#why are they putting themselves through it

[gf2bellamy]

Hey, you know that one scene where spencer and penelope are taking their fitness test and morgan is the one making them take it so could i please request something where bau reader joins derek

fitness — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: working out ? 😭 a/n: hiii !! this is literally one of my fav scenes in cm also i added a silly little surprise at the end <3

You had to suppress your laughter as you and Derek stood in front of Garcia and Spencer, who were both sitting on the grass, half-heartedly stretching. The sight alone was amusing enough—Garcia’s oversized red sunglasses perched on her nose.

But it was Spencer who truly sent you over the edge. 

The laughter that had been bubbling up inside you finally burst out when you took in his outfit in full detail. 

Spencer Reid was dressed for the world’s most awkward middle school gym class. A red hoodie that was slightly too big for him, blue running shorts that contrasted hilariously with the rest of his ensemble, and—best of all—long white socks pulled up so high they nearly covered his calves.

But the real cherry on top? The red headband wrapped securely around his forehead, pushing his hair back.

“You better not be laughing at me,” Spencer grumbled, already suspicious as he narrowed his eyes at you. 

You pressed your lips together, failing miserably at looking innocent. “No, no, not at all,” you said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s just—wow. I really love the headband, Spence.” 

Derek let out a low chuckle beside you, shaking his head. “Man, you look like you’re about to run a marathon… in 1984.” 

Spencer sighed heavily and dropped his arms in defeat. 

Garcia, on the other hand, was less concerned with Spencer’s wardrobe and more concerned with your presence. “Why are you here?” she asked, lifting her sunglasses slightly to get a better look at you and Derek, her expression filled with suspicion. 

You placed your hands on your hips, grinning. “We’re your new PT teachers.” 

Garcia’s face twisted in horror as she turned to Spencer. “Oh, this is a nightmare.” 

Derek clapped his hands together, nodding. “Walker’s sick, so you two lucky ducks get to train with us instead.” 

“Lucky day,” you added, smirking down at them. 

Garcia groaned, flopping backward dramatically onto the grass. “Kill me now.” 

“You know this whole fit test thing was just a formality, right?” Derek reminded them.“You could’ve gotten the whole thing waived.” 

Spencer, who had been silent up until now, slowly turned his head toward Derek, his mouth falling open slightly in realization. His arms dropped fully to his sides as he let out a soft, defeated, “Are you serious?” 

Derek smirked. “Yup.” 

Spencer groaned, collapsing backward onto the grass next to Garcia. “I hate it here.” 

You grinned and crossed your arms. “Too bad. Now, both of you—up. We’ve got work to do.” 

Garcia peeked up at you from under her sunglasses. “I just want you to know, I am actively plotting my revenge.” 

You laughed, reaching down to offer Spencer a hand. “Noted. But for now, get up, genius. Those calf-high socks aren’t going to run laps by themselves.” 

Spencer sighed dramatically but took your hand anyway. “This is cruel and unusual punishment.” 

Derek just chuckled, stepping back as the two of you prepared to put them through the most entertaining training session of their lives. 

The two of them immediately rushed to the start of the track, eager to get this over with as quickly as possible. But before they could take off, you and Derek exchanged a knowing look. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Derek asked, the biggest, most amused grin stretching across his face. 

Spencer and Garcia both hesitated, looking at each other in confusion. 

“Uh… running the mile?” Garcia answered, her tone more uncertain than confident. 

Derek let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, they didn’t hear,” he muttered, glancing at you. 

You smirked. “Nope.” 

Spencer frowned, adjusting his headband. “Hear what?” 

You crossed your arms, thoroughly enjoying the confusion on their faces. “The fit test is more than just running a mile,” you said, drawing out each word for emphasis. 

Garcia’s face dropped. “Oh no.” 

Spencer blinked. “Excuse me?” 

You gestured toward the empty stretch of field beside the track. “Before you even think about running, first up—push-ups.” 

Garcia groaned like she was in physical pain. “Are you serious? Push-ups? I don’t do push-ups. I do online shopping and deep dives into government databases, not whatever this is.” 

Derek laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.” 

Spencer sighed heavily, already bracing himself for the inevitable. “Fine. How many?” 

You exchanged another look with Derek before he smirked. “As many as you can in one minute.” 

Garcia flopped onto her stomach dramatically, already giving up. “Just let me die here.” 

Spencer, meanwhile, awkwardly positioned himself into something vaguely resembling a push-up stance, his long limbs looking entirely out of place. “I haven’t done these since high school,” he admitted, glancing up at you with mild panic. 

“Then you’re long overdue,” you teased, squatting down next to him. “Alright, genius, let’s see what you’ve got.” 

Spencer took a deep breath, then lowered himself toward the ground—only for his arms to tremble on the way back up. 

Derek chuckled. “Oh, this is gonna be real good.” 

Garcia, still sprawled dramatically on the grass, turned her head slightly to watch. “Reid, just know I am suffering with you in spirit.” 

Spencer exhaled sharply, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment. “Fantastic.” 

After the grueling push-ups, you weren’t about to let them off that easy.

Next up, you led them to a line of small obstacles—nothing too intense, just a few low hurdles.

You gave them an exaggerated, dramatic gesture toward the obstacles. “Alright, ladies and gents, show me what you’ve got.” 

Spencer, still struggling with the remnants of the push-up challenge, eyed the obstacles with dread. He took a tentative step forward, only to trip on the first hurdle. He stumbled and fell flat on his stomach with a thud. 

Unable to suppress it, you burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching your stomach as you doubled over.

“Oh, that was beautiful, Reid,” Derek laughed, wiping a tear from his eye.

Garcia was in no better shape, her face contorted in mock horror as she tried to steady herself on the next hurdle. She managed to clear it with a half-decent leap, but the rest of the obstacles proved a challenge. She let out a little squeal each time she almost stumbled, finally breathing a sigh of relief once she was past them. 

The next station was a set of metal rods—basically, a low horizontal pull-up bar designed to test their upper body strength.

Garcia was surprisingly good at it, pulling herself up with ease, though she let out a few exaggerated groans of exertion with each pull. “I’hate this,” she grumbled between pulls, but still managed to finish the task with a satisfied smirk. 

Spencer, on the other hand, was struggling. He grasped the bar, his arms shaking under the effort. His body barely lifted off the ground, his feet still scraping the dirt.

You raised an eyebrow. “Need a hand, genius?” you teased, watching him grit his teeth as he gave another half-hearted attempt. 

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, but his face betrayed him as he finally managed to pull himself up, only for his feet to immediately touch the ground again. “Okay, maybe I need a little help…” 

Derek shot you a look, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Looks like we’re in for a long day,” he chuckled. 

The next challenge was rope jumping. You had them each take turns skipping across the line of ropes laid out on the grass. Garcia went first, her hops smooth but exaggerated, and she finished in record time, looking proud of herself.

Spencer, however, tripped over the ropes more than once. Every time he landed wrong, his face contorted in frustration, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “Come on, Spence! You can do better than that!” you cheered. 

“I’m trying!” he said, clearly winded from the rope-jumping fiasco. “I didn’t sign up for the circus.” 

“Oh, I think you’re getting the full experience here,” you quipped, watching as he made another attempt, this time managing to hop through with only a few stumbles. 

Finally, you and Derek led them over to the bleachers. You gestured to the steps. “Alright, now for the real fun. You two are going to run up and down these steps until I say stop.” 

Spencer gave a long, dramatic sigh, but Garcia was already off.She sprinted up the first set of stairs.

Spencer, on the other hand, was a different story. 

He began jogging up the steps, but there was something about his posture, that made it impossible for you to keep a straight face.

His knees seemed to lift unnaturally high, and the way he scrambled up the stairs made you laugh out loud. You couldn’t help it—every awkward step he took had you cracking up, and you had to look away to keep from bursting into another fit of laughter. 

Derek’s laughter was more restrained, but you could see his eyes twinkling with amusement as Spencer reached the top of the bleachers, panting and trying to recover.

Spencer caught his breath, shooting you a half-annoyed, half-amused look. “This is torture.” 

You smirked. “It’s character-building.” 

Garcia, having finished her run, leaned against the railing, fanning herself dramatically. “Please, just let me die now.” 

You laughed, crossing your arms. “Not quite yet, Garcia. We’ve still got a few more rounds to go.” 

And with that, you and Derek took them through round after round, pushing them harder than they’d ever been pushed before.

The sun, now dipping lower in the sky, painted the field in warm hues of orange and pink. Spencer and Garcia, both utterly spent, finally collapsed onto the grass , their breaths coming in shallow gasps.

You and Derek exchanged a quick glance, silently communicating. Then, you put your hands on your hips and tilted your head, eyeing them with a smirk. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, feigning confusion. 

Spencer didn’t even look up, his chest heaving as he stared at the sky. “We’re… dying,” he muttered. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You still have to run two miles.” 

At that, Spencer’s head jerked up, his eyes widening. “What? It’s supposed to be one mile!” His voice cracked with disbelief. 

Derek, crossing his arms and leaning against the bench, grinning.“Not on my watch,” he said casually. 

Spencer and Garcia didn’t answer immediately. Instead, they stayed where they were, bodies sprawled out on the grass, still struggling to catch their breath.

You and Derek exchanged a knowing look. It was time to break the news to them. 

“Time to tell them, don’t you think?” you asked, your voice dripping with amusement. 

Derek sighed dramatically but his grin never faltered. “Fine.” He looked down at them both. “We already had your fit test waived.” 

There was a long pause, and then Spencer’s head shot up, his eyes wide with confusion. “What?” 

Garcia’s mouth dropped open, mirroring Spencer’s shock. “Are you kidding me?” 

Derek’s grin grew wider as he looked down at Garcia. “Think about it, babygirl—you’re not even in the field. No need for you to do this.” 

You turned your attention to Spencer, whose expression was one of utter disbelief. “And you, genius, already have enough case hours to qualify. You were good to go a while ago.” 

Garcia, still struggling to form coherent words, finally muttered under her breath, “I’m gonna kill you both.” 

You laughed, crossing your arms. “You can try, but I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to catch us after all this running.” 

Spencer, who was still lying on the grass, barely able to keep his eyes open, added in a half-joking tone, “When I manage to lift my arms, I’ll be able to hold you down.” 

Garcia, however, had already jumped to her feet and was sprinting after Derek, who was trying to escape with all his might.

Spencer turned his head toward you, and you saw that mischievous glint in his eyes. He didn’t even need to speak for you to know what he was planning. 

You immediately held up a hand in warning. “No,” you said, laughing but serious. “Don’t even think about it.” 

But Spencer was already getting up, his limbs wobbly from exhaustion, a grin still playing at the corners of his lips. You could see the gears turning in his head as he watched Garcia chase after Derek, his gaze flickering back to you with a knowing look. 

“No, Spencer!” you said, laughing as you backed away, but it was too late. Spencer was already moving toward you. 

Meanwhile, Garcia had caught Derek, and the two of them were practically rolling on the grass as she tried to pin him down, laughing all the while. “Gotcha!” Garcia exclaimed with a triumphant grin, holding Derek in place despite his efforts to break free. 

Spencer closed the gap between the two of you quickly.

You tried to evade him, but you weren’t fast enough.

The second you turned to look behind you, Spencer grabbed you, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, and pulled you toward him in one swift motion. 

You gasped in surprise, but before you could protest, Spencer whispered in your ear, his voice low but filled with amusement, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were my PT teacher.” 

You froze for a second, your heart skipping a beat as he held you close.

Before you could respond, you caught a glimpse of Derek and Garcia, still oblivious to the moment between you and Spencer as they struggled playfully on the ground. Spencer’s hold on you tightened slightly as he kissed your temple, his lips lingering for a brief, sweet second. 

“You’re gonna have to make it up to me for this,” he murmured, his voice warm and playful. You could feel a shiver run down your spine.

You tried to steady your breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, although your voice lacked any real conviction. 

Spencer grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “I know.” He glanced back over at Garcia and Derek, who were still tangled up in their playful struggle, not noticing a thing.

You tried to suppress the smile that was spreading across your face, your cheeks flushing. “Fine,” you sighed dramatically. “I’ll figure out how to make it up to you. But you’re pushing your luck, Reid.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased with himself. “I’ll take my chances.”

You glanced at Derek and Garcia, who were still obliviously bickering.

"Yeah, well, consider this your warning. Next time, we’re running the bleachers again."

[urrmomzfavorite]

PAC WHY PEOPLE FALL FOR YOU

HEYY bestieee ✨ Let’s move on from that balding man who’s been making you cry and check out my MASTERLIST instead. Let’s find someone who’s actually meant for you—preferably someone with a full head of hair. I mean, I’ve had my Vin Diesel moment too, queen, but let’s be real… it’s not actually him. 💀 Time to upgrade to someone who doesn’t make you question your life choices, okay? 😘

Pile One

You come into people’s lives like a quiet storm. You look so innocent, so pure—but you come with surprises. You will never be what is expected of you, and that’s what people love about you. They never know what they’re going to get; their preconceived ideas of you shatter the second you open your mouth.

You’re incredibly smart, clever with your words, and skilled at finding creative solutions to problems. Your good looks, ability to identify people’s strengths, and ease in forming connections (or conundrums) make you the perfect leader. People get close to admire your beauty, bask in your light, and quickly find themselves wrapped around your finger.

You make people surrender to you—they have no choice but to bow to your power. Some find this uncomfortable, but the ones who swim in the sauce? They demand more, getting lost trying to decipher you. You’re multidimensional, a force to be reckoned with, a beauty that commands worship, and a sharp mind. How could anyone not fall for you?

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile Two

“Did it hurt falling from heaven?” You little demon. Pile Two, you’re intoxicating—a sweet poison. (I’m hearing Sweet Nothing by Calvin Harris playing in the background.) It’s hard to resist you; your sweet words turn people into believers of your gospel. They need to hear you, be near you, and earn your attention. It’s fun… until it gets clingy.

Pile Two, that push-and-pull power play you act so coy about? It’s dangerous. You’re the match to their gasoline. They’d been floating in still water, comfortable in their stillness—then you disrupted it all. You glide through life with ease and charm, and they find you refreshing. “It’s exactly what I needed,” they say. You’re a cold glass of water in the desert—needed, awaited.

You break a lot of hearts, some intentionally, others because people take care of that themselves. They get intrigued by you and talk themselves out of approaching you. But oh boy, no matter what, you linger, becoming a core memory, a core regret.

By the time they realize you’re what they needed, you’re already gone. It’s hard to hold onto you; you feel like a dream. They’ll swear they imagined you, like a mirage… until you reappear, reminding them how dull life felt without you.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile Three

It’s your world, and we’re just living in it. Yes, babe—we’re aware, and we’re into it. (I’m the voice of the people!) Pile Three, you’re impossible to miss. That Easy A line? “Google could find me if I was a crack in concrete.” You know, when she comes back to school after the rumor about her losing her "virginity" spreads. You could easily be sexualized by your peers. They fantasize about having you because you seem unreachable, like they’d need to be someone important just to stand next to you.

You’ve got the it factor, that star quality. You belong under a spotlight, and everyone sees it. Your style? The way you put outfits together? Chef’s kiss. People want to be your friend, your lover, part of your circle—but stay wary of energy vampires. They don’t know if they want to be you or be with you. A little bit of both, perhaps? Probably.

Copycats try to mimic you, but it’s never quite right. You’re authentic; they’re just desperate to be liked. Even if others can’t explain it, they feel the difference. You’re put on a pedestal—and honestly? That’s where you belong. 😘

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

[gffa]

People shouldn't be too hard on Mon!

I absolutely love and is grateful of Freed's understanding and appreciation of the Jedi, apparent in the book, apparent in the interview he'd given for the book:

"For me, the excitement of the time period here, is that I tend to think of 'Star Wars' as a setting with plenty of room for grey area stories and moral ambiguity, but there are very clear lines of good and evil as well. There's no version of 'Star Wars' in which you look at the Emperor and go, 'Well, maybe he had some good ideas.' No, the Emperor is evil. And the Jedi and Luke at their best are good. Everything else exists somewhere in there. This is a period where the remains true but no one really knows that the Emperor is evil.

"As far as the public is concerned, this guy just won the worst war in living memory. The Clone Wars were this horrendous affair and Palpatine has put an end to it. Yes, he's declared himself Emperor but he's not the embodiment of all evil. There's not even a Death Star out there. On the absolute good side, the Jedi have sort of been tarnished in recent years. War scrapes away at the shining morality of any organization."

I think Freed really understands what Lucas meant when he said "The Jedi have been corrupted by this war."

...but I still don't hold it against Mon cause she's going through hell and she spoilerspoilerspoilerspoiler in the later half of the book. I think she's fascinating, wonderful, equally valid character with equally valid viewpoints as Bail within context of their own worlds and experiences in this novel.

The editor of the book said it best:

Bail – knows the truth about Palpatine, the Empire, and the fall of the Jedi. Caught between his commitment to truth and justice at any cost, and the duty he has to the daughter he’s been entrusted to protect.

Mon Mothma – a master politician, who believes – like so many – that opposing Palpatine is part of the regular game of politics. She doesn’t yet realize, Palpatine stood up from the game board years ago, and she’s playing against shadows.

Mon and Bail are allies, but not really friends (at this time). Padme was their link, and now, she’s gone. Where does that leave them?

For Mon and Bail especially, the secrets Bail holds that he cannot reveal leaves a gulf between them. And what does it mean when they find themselves at odds with each other, over truths they cannot speak?

prev anon) I'm talking about their different mindsets and experiences and viewpoints born from those and I'm not excusing Mon's... *spoilers* anyway I hope you enjoy the rest of the book! It's so nice seeing an author like Freed, who usually writes non-force side of sw, handling the jedi with such warmth, understanding and awareness

This was such a reassuring message to get, thank you! I've been avoiding spoilers for the book as best I can, but I'm only a quarter of the way through it and I was wondering how the various themes were going to go, but Freed's interview quotes and your comments have made me glad that I'm picking up what this book is putting down, because that's exactly how I've been reading it. (And why I'm hoping to encourage more people to read it--though, I will give a warning that this book can be uncomfortably prescient about current events in a way that I wouldn't say Alexander Freed Is A Witch, but that can be very hard to read about if you're not in the headspace to deal with a lot of reflections of the dumpster fire we're currently in.) As for Mon, I hope nobody comes down on her for this, because as much as I scream, cry, throw up, etc., over Bail's scenes, in general I lean a bit more towards Mon's way of doing things, because I think her approach is her answer to the question, "But what can actually be truly achieved?" That she is looking at an incredibly shitty situation with only shitty options and asking herself what can she actually get done, what does she have a snowball's chance in hell of success with? And she knows clearing the Jedi's name at this point in time is not on the table, not when there are a million other things that might actually do tangible good for the galaxy. And I don't disagree with that! I love the Jedi more than anyone, but clearing their name isn't more important that, say, trying to stop the Wookiees from being classified as a non-sentient species! Clearing their name isn't important enough to blow all your political capital and having nothing to show for it when there are people who you can help, with a chance that will actually succeed! Bail's idealism isn't stupid, he's incredible and the galaxy needs a shining light like him, it's necessary for the bigger hope for the future, we can't make it through the dark times without bright, shining hope. So even when they don't always think positively of each other, I never get the sense that Bail and Mon don't understand that the other is doing what they think is best. They just disagree on what that is. And it makes sense! Bail knew and was friends with the Jedi! He knows the truth about Palpatine and how important all that Force shit is to what's going on here! Mon is operating with the idea that this is a political battle--and she's not entirely wrong, she's necessary to the recovery of the galaxy, too, just as Luke is necessary to save the day, so too is Leia, and I sort of see that reflected in Bail and Mon's approaches--one is focusing on the mystical and one is focusing on the political and I think both are important here. So, I have nothing but hearts for Mon Mothma and what she's trying to do for the galaxy.

And I don't see them as antagonists here, I see them as two people who look at each other with the understanding that there is deep love and compassion for people in the other, that they want this other person on their side not just for political alliances but because they care, and maybe they want to scream in frustration that the other person can't see what they see, but I don't feel for a second that this is going to end with them anything other than them as friends. Their scene in Rogue One implies she knows about Bail knowing a living Jedi, if not directly knowing about Obi-Wan Kenobi, which isn't something he would tell just anyone. I'm hoping for the same with Saw, there's going to be conflict about their approaches, and I love that that's clearly a theme/why these three characters were chosen as the pillars of this book, that each of them are shown to have their reasons why and that each of them serve a purpose. I scream/cry/throw up more about the Jedi because that's the most fun for me, but I am enthralled with Mon's chapters just as much, the political tightrope she's on, and I would encourage people to read for those aspects just as much as I would encourage them for crying about the Jedi. ANYWAY, EVERYONE SHOULD READ THIS BOOK FOR YOURSELF, I'm having fun with the snippets I'm posting, but the book is so much more than those things! It's one of the best SW for rounding out the characters and filling in the transitions between the movies and TV shows, but in a way that keeps the tension and emotional gut-punches despite that we know where it's going. ALSO, MON MOTHMA AND BAIL ORGANA ARE THE BEST, I'M WILLING TO FIGHT THE INTERNET OVER THIS

[donutwatches]

MHA 3.10 - Symbol of Peace - part 1

Oh I LOVE My Hero Academia, and it's wholesome characters, and it's fun school time scenes, and it's colorful super hero save-the-day plots. It's so fluffy and comforting, right...right...?

If he lives he's gonna be so annoyed at how much hydrogen peroxide he's going to have to use to wash all that blood off his denim.

Why does our big baddie sound so oddly supportive when talking to Shigaraki? I can't tell if there is anything genuine in it or if it is total manipulation. Either way, it's creepy.

Also, love that he came out here in a suit. He may be a villain, but he's going to be well dressed while he does it.

Every group needs a mom friend. Without Iida they might have run out there before thinking and got themselves KO'd.

BAM! I love it when MHA does these stylized shots, with the thick line art, and background effects. It makes it look like a page from a comic book come to life!

Spoken like a true anti-mask boomer. Jokes aside, is All For One's mask keeping him alive? It looks like Darth Vader, but does it have basically the same function as Darth Vader's mask too?

This come across like a kid playing and adding extra special abilities to their play-pretend. Like, "I've got ice powers and freeze you!", "Oh yeah? I've got lava powers 10x, lightning power 100x, and the power of the sun 1000x"

This fight is reminiscent of the season 1 finale in that, everyone assumes it's safe when All Might arrives, but they don't know that he is at a terrible disadvantage. He is weakened, on a time limit, and he is holding back to keep Bakugo safe. I honestly don't know how this is going to end for him.

Ooooh, Deku is scheming, I love it, when this genius schemes! He inherited OFA, but he didn't become a copy of All Might with the more brawny buff approach to heroism. His brain remains his best super power.

Kirishima come through! Put the spotlight on my boooy!

Mom said yes! We got permission, It's GO TIME!

Part 2 coming right up!

Masterlist

TAGLIST

@champion-prism @jessiedead @granny-griffin

@blackaquokat @call-me-copycat @bicheetopuff

@noonthemoon @hyperfixations-and-cringe

@setfiretotheshadows @fleshst4r

[gotigersiguess]

So I've seen a couple of posts about the possibility of Will having a new love interest in season 5 and I have some opinions. I feel like people saying that Will can move on and fall in love with someone else don't take into account the simple fact that this is a TV show and not a real life situation. Will is a fictional character with a specific arc that should end in a more or less satisfying resolution. ST is not some gritty drama, it's a coming of age story with nostalgia and eldritch horror sprinkled in for some funsies. Every character should finish the story with lessons learned. So, what kind of resolution should we expect for a selfless queer boy who has to understand that he is deserving of love he so desperately wants? That he's not some mistake that should settle for less?

Also, that Chekhov's gun painting has to be addressed because it still didn't serve it's purpose in the story. It's a plot device. It's introduced for a reason.

So, here are our options:

The painting lie is revealed, the conflict that follows ends in Mike accepting him and Will moving on. No new romantic interest is introduced. Will is proven right. He is the only character without any romantic prospects for him in the main chunk of the story. Maybe a guy will wink at him in the epilogue. Why would we need to bury our gay if can just make him miserable (but not like all the way and overtly miserable). He has a future, see! He's fine! It's just a devastating real life lesson! That's what Stranger Things is about after all /s.

The painting lie ends the same way as in option 1. Will's coming of age arc ends in him moving on and falling in love with a random plot device character introduced at the start of the season. Somehow, among the horrors and monsters, Will has time to hook up with a random guy. They live happily every after. Rushed and badly written ending for one of the main protagonists, but I guess you tried? Could work if that plot device character was introduced very early on (like season 4) and given depth. Could also work if we resolved the painting situation in season 4. Otherwise, wild choice, but it's better then the first option.

The painting lie ends in Mike understanding and accepting Will while simultaneously propelling Mike's arc of self-acceptance. Climactic! Lot's of fun choices here. Then, follows the falling action. Characters grow, fun stuff. We finally reached the resolution of their arcs. This time it leads to Will being proven wrong. The person he loves and tries to let go off, reciprocates his feelings. Makes sense. Makes for a satisfying ending, happy one on the love-interest front. We've being through hell and can finally be together in the end. Love conquers all, yadda yadda.

I really don't see any other way this could go, honestly. Maybe some very clever and secret option 4.

Would option 3 happen? I sure hope so, otherwise I would question screenwriter's choices. Why put themselves in a mess if you don't want to resolve it in a satisfying way? There was no need for Will to be in love with Mike. Does it help Will's arc in any way? Sure, it ties in with his sexuality stuggles and helps him feel less like a mistake because loving Mike feels natural for him. But this also hinders his arc and creates a whole lot of problems if not resolved properly.

There's also a burning question of Mike's character arc and how much the choice of roping him into a love triangle helps in pushing him towards self-acceptance. Let's face it, Mike's resolution has to be him accepting himself and maturing. Whether it is his struggles with sexuality or his issues with pretending to be someone he's not because of his insecurities. How does Will's love tie into this? How does the painting tie into all of this? Would Mike finding out that someone loves him for who he is end in him...

1. Being with that person and coming to terms with his sexuality because of that

or

2. Understanding that he should be himself around his girlfriend, that he should be communicating his needs and listening to El's needs, that he should stop idolizing El and start seeing her as a real person and not some hero from his comic books.

The second option puts Will once again into position of a couples counselor for the straight main couple of the show. That's the highest level of friendzoning known to man (not to mention what a weird writing choice this is).

[ohburgee]

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝

betrayed!1x1x1x1 x gn-survivor!reader

tw: violence, massacre, blood, capturing an: another 1x1x1x1 I swear I loved this man, like he put you in a poisoned to make you want him more. Imagine playing Forsaken, then got captured by this beautiful specimen,n bloodthirsty killer :3 summary: being a helper and protector for your friends is very risky, but you're willing to save them and defend them, Elliot was your top priority, such an innocent teenager being on this game. when you're both running from this bloodthirsty killer but something was not right when the killer looked at you not in wanting to kill you but something wanted you for another reason.

After surviving a brutal game, you and the other players finally got a chance to rest inside a large cabin. You sat near the fireplace, trying to warm up from the cold that lingered outside. The flickering flames cast a soft glow on the room, offering a rare sense of comfort.

One of the players, Elliot, approached you with a wide smile, holding out a plate of pizza.

"For my savior," he said cheerfully, handing you a slice. You accepted it with a grateful smile.

"I'm so glad you were there... You saved me," Elliot added, sinking into the seat beside you with a relieved sigh.

"It's my mission to help others," you replied, your voice calm but laced with exhaustion.

The two of you enjoyed the warmth of the fire as you talked about the game how close you all came to losing, and the terrifying moments you barely escaped. But just as the tension started to fade, the speakers crackled to life.

"Another round of the game has begun. Prepare for survival."

The announcement echoed through the cabin, cutting the peaceful atmosphere short. Everyone began to gear up, mentally preparing themselves for another brutal match.

Once the game started, players scattered across the map, working to fix the generators. You and Elliot stuck together, cautiously repairing one on the far side of the area.

"I swear some generators take forever to fix," Elliot grumbled, anxiously glancing around.

You scanned the area for any sign of the killer, your heart pounding in your chest. The announcer hadn’t revealed who the killer was this round they just threw you all into the chaos.

Then you heard it. A loud, echoing *thud* growing closer. You and Elliot barely finished fixing the generator when the sound became deafening. Without thinking, you grabbed Elliot and pulled him behind a tree.

He followed your gaze, eyes widening in horror. A green smoke seeped through the cracks in a nearby wall, and out of the mist stepped a figure with long white hair and a cold, menacing aura.

It was 1x1x1x1. Death himself.

Players feared him more than any other killer. He was ruthless, brutal, and relentless. Facing him felt like facing the death.

"It’s him... Why does it have to be him?" Elliot whispered, trembling.

You stayed alert, barely breathing, watching as another player accidentally revealed themselves. 1x immediately locked onto them, sprinting after them with terrifying speed.

"Now’s our chance. Run!" you hissed, grabbing Elliot again. You both bolted toward a nearby structure where a few survivors were fixing another generator. Without a word, you jumped in to help.

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the map someone must have stunned the killer. But you knew it wouldn’t last long. The round dragged on, the tension unbearable.

When the generator was finally fixed, you all decided to stay in the structure, hoping to outlast the killer. Elliot stuck to your side like a lost puppy, as he look around like scared for anything.

"Don’t worry, El. I’m here. I’ll protect you," you whispered, rubbing his back to comfort him.

But the brief peace shattered when a chilling scream pierced the air, followed by the wet, sickening sound of a blade slicing through flesh. You all looked down from the structure to see 1x standing over a lifeless survivor, their body limp in his grasp.

Then he looked up.

His crimson eyes locked onto yours only yours. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face before he bolted toward the structure.

You immediately grabbed Elliot as the other survivors scattered in panic. 1x climbed up the structure with unnatural speed, cutting players down mercilessly. It was a massacre.

You and Elliot ran as fast as you could, desperately searching for a hiding spot. Eventually, you found a secluded area with crumbling walls and a small hole to crawl through.

"Go inside, now," you urged, helping Elliot through the gap before slipping in yourself.

You both crouched in silence, hearts pounding, waiting for the chaos to pass. Then an announcement blared through the speakers:

"One generator remaining."

Peeking through a crack, you spotted the final generator untouched. You bit your lip, heart racing.

"I need to fix that generator," you whispered, turning to Elliot.

"What? No! What if he catches you?" Elliot's voice shook with panic.

"It’s okay. As long as you’re safe, I’ll come back for you. I promise," you reassured him, pulling him into a tight hug before slipping out of the hiding spot.

Carefully, you crept toward the generator and began fixing it, your fingers trembling with urgency. But before you could finish, heavy footsteps echoed nearby.

It was him.

You quickly ducked behind the generator, frantically searching for a distraction. Spotting a small stone you knew it's stupid but it's only thing you can make a distraction, you threw it across the area.

To your shock, it worked. 1x turned and followed the noise. Wasting no time, you went back to fixing the generator, adrenaline surging through you. But just as you were about to finish.

A cold hand wrapped around your arm. You gasped, looking up to see those same blood-red eyes.

It was over.

You closed your eyes, bracing for the inevitable facing your fate. At least Elliot could escape now...

But nothing happened.

Cautiously, you opened your eyes to see 1x studying you, his head tilted in amusement. Then, to your horror, he smiled and that made you feel scared.

"You look adorable when you’re scared... It makes me like you even more," he whispered, voice laced with sinister affection.

Before you could react, he effortlessly lifted you onto his shoulder, black smoke curling around your vision.

"You belong to me now... little survivor," he chuckled, his voice echoing in your head as the darkness consumed you.

From a distance, Elliot peeked out from the hiding spot, eyes wide with terror. He watched helplessly as 1x carried you away, when 1x saw Elliot, 1x finger pressed to his lips in a chilling *shh* gesture.

Elliot wanted to run after you. He wanted to fight. But he was paralyzed by fear.

And so, he stayed hidden watching as 1x disappeared into the shadows, taking you with him.

n: so some of you wondering about mafioso, don't worry I'm still writing for him just want to finish 1x and after this I'll be going to write for mafioso so a fanfic of him coming soon :>

[kabr0ztrousers]

Hiya ! I love your posts, they are all amazing 🫠

I'm not sure if you're really into poly relationships, but i've got this on my mind for a while now.

Reader is dating two monsters, the monsters know each other since kids and get along very well, they are predators, they like to play with their mate as if she is a prey.

Someone tells her they'll eventually hurt her for real and now they're upset, to make her feel safe again, they decide to show off to the whole village how they take care of their mate (if you know what i mean 🫦).

Kabr0z Writes Episode 60: Beauty and the Beasts

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Lashings of oral sex; public sex; exhibitionism; interspecies; knotting; enthusiastic consent; restraints;

A/N: This one sounds like fun, and it's not gonna kill me to write this one and the other I have planned to make up for missing Wednesday.

Plus I get to put out a little more exposition on why there are werewolves in a low-magic world. If there's one thing you've probably worked out about me, I love me some ✨Exposition✨

As always, requests go to the ask box or DMs so they're in the queue when I check it. I won't not do stuff asked for in comments or reblogs, but they won't be in the queue so they're very likely to fall through the cracks

##########################################

The year is 1670. Almost twenty years since everything changed. You were only a small girl then, when the sun darkened and the menfolk of your village changed. You remember them falling to the ground as bones cracked and rearranged, blood streaming from broken faces as snouts and muzzles replaced human mouths and noses, tails bursting from the smalls of their backs, and the fur spreading in patches to cover their skin. Then, the sky lightened again. Those who had changed picked themselves up, strong limbed and sharp toothed, but still themselves despite the monstrous form they had taken.

Other villages suffered the same, boys and men who saw the shadow over the sun turning into monsters. A royal decree came a week later. The changed men were to leave the towns, banished to the forests and woodlands where they would bother the women and the unchanged no longer. So it came to pass that the lupines were driven out. Most were never heard of again, but you still heard stories of children being born in villages with tails and fur, the get of the banished wolfmen.

You were approaching your twenty-fifth year. Despite them being banished you never lost touch with your close friends from youth, a pair of boys named Leo and Michael, if anything, you'd grown even closer to them over the years. You could well understand the tales of wolf-children being born.

Your rendezvous with them had not gone unnoticed either. The men of the village gave you a wide berth, not wanting to get too close to you for fear of your wolfen lovers. The women who would still speak with you warned you to no end that the lupines you cavorted with under the stars and the treetops would be the end of you. Of course, over the years, fewer and fewer women spoke to you. They were all getting married, their husbands forbidding them to consort with the strange woman of the village, warning their children away from you. Little by little, life in civilisation became quieter and quieter, lonelier and lonelier.

You head leant on Leo's belly, complaining about the villagers, gently stroking Michael's back as he topped off the cuddle pile. Michael's tail began to wag as you saw a mischievous grin spread over his features

"What are you thinking" you were starting to match his grin. Michael had the best plans

"Well, if you're miserable there, why not join us lupines? They see you as one of us, why not leave?"

You hummed, it's not like you hadn't thought about it "I don't want them using it as an excuse to come after you..."

Leo snorted "They wouldn't have waited if they weren't so scared of us, though I like the idea of giving them a show of things... They want to banish you? Let's give them a reason"

Michael's grin widened "I have an idea... Mind if Leo and I talk a few minutes alone? I wanna make this a surprise"

That's how you knew this was gonna be good. "Sure, I'll be by the river, need a piss anyway"

You took your time. You couldn't hear them over the flowing water, but you could see them discussing intently from your spot. Every time one of them spoke, the other would get more excited until they were both looking at you. You stood up, letting your skirts cover your ankles again as you walked back to them "Made a decision?"

"Yeah, just about... Oh, one quick thing"

Leo tapped Michael's hand and held up two fists "left or right?"

Michael chose left, the fist was empty, the other revealing a crumpled leaf

Leo smiled "I win"

Michael laughed "Right, now we're ready. Do you trust us?"

"Always" you nodded. You'd known these two since you were children, you helped them get used to walking again on their back-turned legs, you brushed their fur and spent every spare moment with them. You'd trust these two men with your life.

Good thing too. The moment the word left your mouth, Leo tackled you and both of them took off in a sprint. Towards the village.

A lupine can outpace a stallion if they have a mind to, and over a longer distance. Many of the changed men had left the country and were living as condottiere in Italy and France if the tales were true. You could feel why, the wind rushed through your hair as the two wolves charged down the path to the village centre, alarmed cries coming from behind you as the furry blurs sped past terrified peasants.

They stopped at the pillory, placing your head and hands in the wooden frame and shutting it, keeping the latch closed with a stick jammed where the shank of a padlock would fit. You knelt there a moment, head waist-high off the ground, knees on the paved stone below you, a crowd gathering and murmuring as the wolves howled around you, stomping and snarling at the villagers. You tried not to laugh. They're trying to make a scene.

The crowd must have grown to their liking.

"You there! Priest!" Leo pointed at the local clergyman "Come here!"

The crowd pushed the hapless man forward, clutching his bible ahead of him like a shield "W-what are you going to do with me?"

Michael laughed at him, trying to make it sound scary, but only making it harder to keep the grin from your face "You're going to marry us"

The priest stammered a protest, but a showing of sharp teeth from both wolves silenced him. He cleared his throat "We are gathered here today to witness the union of this woman with this" a snarl "These, sorry, these... men? Er, that is to say if any know of any reason why these... people should not be wed, please speak or forever hold your peace" The priest held his eyes shut. Silence fell for a moment, a voice yelled from the back of the crowd "Get on with it!"

"Ahem. Yes. Er" the monk stammered again "Do you take these wolves to be your lawfully wedded, er, husbands?"

You nodded your head "I do" you croaked out, mouth still dry from the run

"And do you-"

"We do" both of your wolf lovers said in unison

The priest drew a cross in the air in front of the three of you "in which case I pronounce you man and wife" The last words were said so quickly it took a moment to process. Then the wolves were upon you.

Michael stood in front of you as Leo stepped behind, tearing the skirt off your rear end, showing you off to the villagers behind you. His tongue went at you, licking your cunt vigorously, making your jaw drop at the ferocity of his touch as he held you open and ate you out. Michael craned his head to watch as he gripped his sheath, the cock inside starting to poke out. The pillory kept your mouth at crotch-height as he slapped his cock on your cheeks, teasing you with the feeling of it as he painted you with his scent. You tried to catch it again and again as the crowd jeered, every time it rubbed against your face, giving you another sniff of his shaft. Until, of course, it didn't.

The crowd cheered as his cock slipped into your mouth, and you started to suck it. Michael grabbed the pillory and started to fuck your face while Leo brought a hand to your clit, sending an orgasm rocking through you as the pad of his finger circled your sensitive nub.

Leo stood up behind you and leant over, his hard cock between your thighs "I'm gonna take your maidenhood, alright?"

You nodded, the cock in your mouth stopping you speaking, the roar of the crowd would drown out any muffled grunts of approval. Thankfully, Leo saw the slight move of your head as you looked into his eye.

The cock pulled out from between your thighs, then plunged into your pussy. Your eyes widened as he pushed in, gently at first but gaining speed with confidence. Your legs bent as your toes curled, the canine cocks ramming into both sides of you building up to another orgasm as the braying, yelling crowd surged your adrenaline.

You felt your pussy squeezing on Leo as Michael hilted himself in your mouth, spraying hot cum down your throat. There was just so much, you felt it dripping from your nose and leaking out of the seal of your lips.

Michael's grunts set Leo off. His knot started to swell in you as he howled, the first load of cum your womb had ever taken, filling you to the brim and over the top. You tried to lock your legs around him, but needn't have bothered, the knot stuck the two of you together.

The crowd started to disperse now, the show was over, all that was left was the gentle licking of your new husbands as their excitement wound down. You each knew the villagers wouldn't do anything about this, there wasn't a watch to speak of and by the time a magistrate blew through you'd be long gone.

It took almost an hour before Leo's knot deflated enough to pull out of you. You opened the pillory with a single push from your back, the flimsy stick giving way immediately. It was only there for show, after all. Together you walked back to the forest where you met with the rest of the lupines. After all, you're family now.

When you finally came with child, you weren't sure which of your men had actually fathered the pups, but you didn't care, they were sure to be great fathers. Plus, you'd even started seeing familiar faces from the village again, moving in with new, furrier husbands.

All's well that ends well, you suppose

####################################

Don't be alarmed that this episode is being published in the evening, rather than 1am, I'm not getting all responsible on you, rather just making sure I'll have steam in the tank for tonight when the next regularly-scheduled episode is going to be written!

One of these days, I'll write a couple ahead of time to build a backlog. Until then, this shit's happening live!

[fadelbison]

AkkAye, AlanGaipa, SandRay, or KantBison?

incredible ask anon - this is at once a question with an extremely dense context to parse through (the vast majority of FKs cinematic universe) and yet what a delightfully short and to the point question.

to no one's surprise I should think:

AlanGaipa

I think the simplest way to explain is that I relate to and, more importantly, like both these characters as individuals and the way that they both love is very precious to me. The only other character in that whole list that I both like and relate to like them is Ray 😂

I love that on the surface, these two seem to follow the principles of opposites attract but actually at their core they are very very similar to each other. I think the contingent of people against AG potentially becoming a thing (for people who did not experience this period of the FK and EM fandoms live: I really need to emphasize this was one of the worst times in fandom for me LOL) that had a good reason was afraid that it's going to be a lazy tying together of jilted exes for the monies but god Aof Noppharnach is not that lazy of a storyteller and I knew exactly from the pilot trailer why these two were ultimately put together.

The reason they escaped the lazy tying together of the jilted exes fate is because first is a horrible simp for khaotung they both struggled to let go of their past loves. In fact that is the very first point at which the fates of these characters start colliding because Gaipa isn't even a jilted ex. They love steadfastly, almost whimsical in the way they've held on to a love so clearly past when they should have let go.

They keep hurting themselves because their desire for connection doesn't die and yet they both have such doggedly focused personalities that they're unable to shift the person they'd once upon a time decided, perhaps even arbitrarily, was the right one for them. But once they've decided to move on?

They have.

Oh man this is the part this is the whole crux of what whispered secrets was about:

Alan doesn’t notice that Kaipa has stopped talking until his voice cuts through the silence once more. Alan is caught by the suddenness of the quiet, ‘do you love him?’ and the full intensity of Kaipa’s gaze directed straight at him. He doesn’t want to answer, desperately looks for the space to draw, once more, the lines that used to exist between them. But the searching look in Kaipa’s eyes, like he’s desperate to be found, cuts at a place inside that Alan long thought dead. It comes unbidden, ‘I have never thought of my feelings for him as anything but love.’  Alan watches as Kaipa blinks rapidly like he’s confused and then it's Alan’s turn to be confused when Kaipa bursts into laughter. Kaipa presses his thumb to Alan’s cheek, rubs a line right at the bottom edge of his glasses, ‘you would do that,’ Kaipa says exasperated, ‘just decide to love a person.’

Alan and Gaipa were two characters at worst conveniently and at best cosmically positioned in the story to relate to each other and find in each other a cheaper sort of comfort of lost love.

But no, they choose. They are characters that choose their fates. They choose to move on and then they choose each other

By the time that Alan flirts with Gaipa at his office, Alan has already refused Wen's care after his accident and Gaipa has already refused to join in on Uncle Jim's party. They meet each other at a weirdly tense time of both their lives and are intrigued by each other enough to enter each other's orbit.

Alan suffers Wen's judgement to bring Gaipa those documents at Wen's new boyfriend's restaurant. He likes him so much already. Alan and Gaipa aren't seeking comfort for their wounds in each other, they're both seizing a good thing that serendipitously came into their lives with no thought of all the ways that it could go wrong, has gone wrong for them, in fact.

For a bitter and jilted adult like me, who's had their heart broken and trampled more than once, this is the true story of a courageous love.

[woman-respecter]

I’m Mizrahi and akajustmerry is just your regular Arab antisemite. I was going to be level headed about this but I am going to be a massive cunt instead.

Any Arab who says their family fought against Zionism is an antisemite. When Mizrahi Jews faced an actual genocide at the hands of Arab countries and forced into Israel (the popular belief is that WE CHOSE TO LEAVE so let that sink in), it was and is still considered anti Zionism. Why? Because most Arabs and Muslims in general have effectively and brilliantly absorbed their antisemitism into “ANTI ZIONISM” since the beginning so no, they can’t possibly ever be antisemitic when Israel is soooo bad and mean and evil :(

If you look at akajustmerry’s account, you will see no sort of self reflection. Arabs have been babied so much by the West that they will never stop to consider the possibility that they can be antisemitic. The typical response is “We’re semites”. Losing all common sense because they refuse to be held accountable. I have lost my fucking mind and been in countless fights with Arabs/Muslims because they refuse to acknowledge that they have oppressed us and they continue to. I know you’re a white Jew in America who probably don’t feel like it’s your place to talk about these things but Mizrahi Jews need your help. Seriously. What you’re dealing with since October 7th has been Soviet antisemitism mixed with Arab antisemitism.

Celebrities wearing those red hand pins “in honor of Palestine”. Girl Arabs have been haunting Mizrahim with red hands since forever. They did it to us during the Farhud, for example. It’s classic blood libel. There’s a joke that Arab antisemites are obsessed with dogs (their go to insult for “Zionists”). Well, they’re obsessed with telling us we have blood on our hands. It is so important that you read and educate yourself about Arab/Islamic antisemitism.

Going back to akajustmerry’s account, you will immediately see a HUGE issue. What is it you may ask? Well, they don’t believe in peace. They believe in a one state solution where Israel is destroyed and Israelis “face the consequences of their inherently evil behavior” aka be genocided again. Their entire account is filled with hatred against Israelis, wanting them be punished and killed, believing in CLASSIC antisemitic conspiracies that are INHERENTLY ANTISEMITIC such as ZOG (ZIONIST OCCUPIED GOVERNMENT). They believe this is okay because Israelis are “white Europeans” but at least half of Israelis (and most “Jews of color”) are Mizrahi who they forcibly removed from the Arab world, claiming we were all Zionists. But to acknowledge this means that they have to own up to their wrongs. so we may be here forever. A lot of us were Zionists but some of us were anti Zionist as communists and that meant NOTHING because all of us paid the price and it’s not the fault of Zionism. It was your classic case of “ugh, the Jews don’t want to be citizens of our countries, they’re scheming behind our backs and are only loyal to themselves”. Because to be Jewish is to be Zionist to Arabs. People don’t realize this but in the Muslim world, Israel and Zionism and Jews are one. which makes sense because most Jews are Zionist. we have integrated Zionism as a major part of us. Let’s not lie. Israel is very important to Jews. More than half of the world’s Jewish population lives there. so their convenient anti Zionism ends up encompassing all of us hence the inevitable antisemitism. The fact that they won’t self reflect or even put up a front where they hide their antisemitism and pretend to care about being accidentally antisemitic to the good ones SAYS A LOT. Akajustmerry got an anon accusing them of being antisemitic and their response was ZIONIST!!! and that was that. When any Jew you don’t like is a Zionist, well. What are you?

Lastly. All I have to say is. there are HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF ARABS. there are OVER A BILLION MUSLIMS. does this ever happen naturally? no. it was through colonization and genocide. they are no stranger to that. and yet Israel is bad? I wouldn’t have any problems with them hating Israel if they were at least honest and fair. They are no stranger to people doing bad things in their name. There are a fuckton of terrorist groups and extremists (majorly fucking up the Middle East btw) who are Muslim/Arab and many many of them are proudly supported by other Muslims/Arabs. To single out Israel is batshit insane. Mizrahi Jews in Europe (for example France) are facing some huge problems because the much larger Muslim population transported their antisemitism problem there. Think Sarah Halimi, Ilan Halimi. The second intifada enabled Muslim extremists in France to create a wave of antisemitism in response to “supporting Palestinians”. Of course any Jew would have to be insane to think Muslims are our enemy. So why are Arabs and Muslims allowed to think that of us, of Israelis and Israel and Zionists in particular? That will never be normal. Wait guys I think it’s…antisemitic….

They always say we cry antisemitism. If you spoke Arabic you’d know Arabic social media is just straight up saying yahud (jew in arabic but casually used as a slur by like everyone) instead of Zionist. They don’t even pretend. Al Jazeera knows their audience and just says yahud when talking about Israel/Israelis/Zionists.

So yeah to pick apart Jews and to say batshit insane things like anything about Israel that’s positive is propaganda. Well that’s fucking insane. it’s a complete denial of reality where Israel and Zionism is not important to the vast majority of Jews. current anti Zionism (and anti Zionism in general) has always been about ignoring reality. Because the common belief in order to pretend you’re not antisemitic JUST ANTI ZIONIST is that well only a few Jews (the bad ones) are Zionist therefore we aren’t the bad guys. but also everyone’s a Zionist because of the Zionist machine since the ZIOS (slur created by David Duke the KKK guy) control the world.

this is a long ask and i don’t 100% agree w every part of it but yeah i think ur right about how oppressed mizrahi jews have been, mostly by arab communities, and how it seems we aren’t allowef to talk about it. amd i absolutely would not be surprised if “fighting zionism” for that person entailed making lebanese mizrahi miserable or worse. i think also it’s funny when these people pretend they care about mizrahi when they can act like ur noble savages oppressed by the evil “white” ashkenazi jews when they are supporting the people who persecuted mizrahi jews most (not that u aren’t also oppressed within the jewish community at times, it’s just a less deadly oppression than literal murder etc)

[onlyangel4]

espresso (the meeting). la knight. smau.

la knight x singer!reader

synopsis: a favour for a friend turns into so much more

warnings: cursing. allusions to smut.

faceclaim: dua lipa

author's note: this will be two parts teeny tiny bit of written work.

wwe posted two stories tagging y/ninsta + rhearipley_wwe

story one written: mami was arrived in la

story two: but she is not alone

rhearipley_wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: someone is supposed to be practicing for tonight. she is not.

wwe posted a story tagging reallaknight

written: the megastar has arrived

y/ninsta posted a story

written: all glammed and ready to watch bestie beat the shit out of people

wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: y/n stuns on our red carpet

wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: what a way to open the show

y/ninsta posted a story tagging rhearipley_wwe

written: that's my girl

performing in front of thousands every night was nothing compared to this. walking into a room of equally as famous people that you did not know. people that already had their established friends while you were the outsider was real fucking scary. but demi would be there soon and she would be able to rescue you from your loneliness.

walking into the venue there was a smile on your lips, one there to mask your nervousness. you just made a beeline to the bar, if you were going to have to endure this alone you might as well get drunk. you ordered your drink and took a seat on a near by high top table, eyes looking over at the groups of people mingling amongst each other, celebrating this massive step forward in wwe history.

“you put on quite the show out there”, a voice spoke from behind you making your head whip around. Eyes landing on a tall hunk of a man whose eyes were boring into you.

“thank you”, you smiled

“now why are you drinking alone, a star like you should have people to celebrate with”, this man saw right through you

“demi is meeting me once she is done with press”

the man kissed his teeth, “expect to be waiting all night then”, he spoke as he pulled out the seat opposite you basically inviting himself to sit with you.

“i’m shaun by the way, but people hear know me as-“

“la knight, i know”, you interrupted causing a smirk to form on the man’s lips.

“so you do know who i am”

“i’ve been friends with demi for years, I have to do my research on her co workers, make sure there are no bad eggs out there”

“and are there?”

“that’s for me to know and you to find out”, you teased softly making the man in front of you laugh.

“you are quite the enigma missy”

“thank you, that’s what I’m going for”, shaun was certainly amused by you. you were a breath of fresh air, someone who was unafraid to be themselves and he was instantly obsessed with you.

you were about to come up with some kind of conversation when your phone buzzed, you pulled it out of your pocket to check it.

a slight frown appeared on your lips as you read the messages. You weren’t mad at demi for being busy. it was just that you guys both had insane travelling schedules so it had been over six months since you had gotten to spend an evening together so you were looking forward to a night out with your best friend.

shaun caught onto your change in mood straight away, “she not coming?”, he asked

“some last minute meeting with the boss”

“that’s alright, just means i have to keep you company”

“i’m sure there are people you would rather spend time with”

shaun was quick to shake his head, “you are the most interesting person in here darling.”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

[makeila04]

Midlife crisis?

Why would Adler feel like he wasn’t enough?

Personal rejection and abandonment: We know he was married and that his marriage ended badly. There are hints that, if you’ve seen my other theories, he lost children, which suggests he may have faced a devastating loss or a conflicted relationship with his family. His attitude toward women in Black Ops 6 and his constant coldness toward female figures like Helen Park and Sevati Dumas could indicate a deeper issue with attachment and intimacy. It’s not about them; it’s about Adler.

Relationship with the CIA: Disposable and irrelevant. The CIA tried to retire him at 49, which must have been a brutal blow for someone whose sense of identity is so tied to his work. His line, "The CIA is like my ex-wife," suggests strong resentment, as if the organization used and discarded him. This fits the idea that he fears becoming irrelevant.

Fear of obsolescence: In Black Ops 6, he’s 54 and still in the field. He could have accepted retirement, but he didn’t. Why? Maybe because without his work, he feels like he’s nobody. His fascination with upgraded weapons in Zombies mode ("The sweet, sweet aroma of capitalism…") can be read as a metaphor: improving his gear is a way to stay competitive, to avoid feeling old or useless.

Adler Complex / Napoleon Complex: This is where the subtext comes in. His language is loaded with references to power, dominance, and compensation:

"You put in money, spit out firepower, and that’s the American way." → The association between money, power, and masculinity reinforces the idea that he needs external symbols to affirm his status.

"I think it even strengthened my hair." → A subtle reference to virility; hair is a classic symbol of youth and masculinity. If Adler feels like he’s aging or that his physical attractiveness and ability aren’t what they used to be, he’s likely compensating with an exaggerated attitude. His seductive and boastful tone could be his way of reaffirming himself: "I’m still dominant. I’m still desirable."

The desire for absolute control: Lines like "Did I give you permission to look at me?" and "Consider it a mercy kill" show that he needs to be in control of every interaction. In Zombies mode, the world is literally collapsing, but he maintains his image of superiority. This suggests that control is his defense mechanism against chaos. His insecurities aren’t about his work. Professionally, Adler is impeccable. There’s no doubt about his competence as an agent or his leadership skills. But personally… that’s where things change.

Yes, we could say he’s having a midlife crisis, though in his case, it’s more intense than the typical midlife crisis because his identity is too tied to his youth and virility. His luxurious lifestyle (expensive clothes, premium cigarettes, and whiskey) doesn’t just reflect refined taste but also a conscious effort to project power, status, and masculinity.

Fear of impotence (in every sense): It’s not just about sex. Impotence can also mean loss of control, loss of dominance, loss of relevance. Men going through age-related crises often seek to reaffirm themselves with symbols of power: expensive cars, premium alcohol, the company of younger women, or extreme adventures. In Adler’s case, these symbols are in his personality: the expensive clothes, his boastful tone, the way he enjoys upgrading his weapons, his seductive and dominant demeanor.

Some lines that reinforce this:

"I think it even strengthened my hair." → Strong hair = youth, virility. If he’s mentioning it, it’s because the idea of losing it worries him.

"The sweet, sweet aroma of capitalism…" → He says it with almost orgasmic pleasure, as if money and power give him a satisfaction that other things no longer can.

"You put in money, spit out firepower, and that’s the American way." → Again, money and power = masculinity.

So… is Adler compensating? Yes, and on multiple levels.

Emotional compensation: He may have once tried to build a personal life and failed. His divorce and the possible loss of his children reinforce this. He doesn’t try again because his defense mechanism is coldness and detachment.

Virility compensation: He’s no longer the young soldier from Vietnam, but he wants to keep seeing and feeling like one. The references to power, dominance, and strength may be his way of reaffirming himself in an aging body.

Existential compensation: If the CIA retires him, he stops being relevant. If he stops fighting, he stops existing. His ego can’t handle being irrelevant, so he keeps fighting even though his time has passed.

Conclusion Adler isn’t a man who doubts his ability on the battlefield, but he is a man who might doubt his ability in his personal life. His crisis isn’t professional; it’s emotional. His language, habits, and attitude are a shield to avoid facing that fear of irrelevance, impotence (in every sense), and loneliness.

You know, you can tell me what you think. How do you see it?

As a bonus: And yes, I’m going to repeat myself and quote myself (in case you didn’t read my other post, no worries), sorry, but I feel like this is an aspect that reinforces my hypothesis, and it’s:

It really broke me how in Black Ops 6, Adler drops a line that says, "Drinking on the job is like going back to Berlin…" while drinking a lethal daiquiri. And, I don’t know why Adler says it with so much pride or bravado (I wouldn’t be proud to say that). The line is a reference to Cold War… so… was Adler really drinking while working, and we just didn’t see it during Cold War? Wow… I guess his alcohol problem started in the 80s and not in 1991, as we see in Black Ops 6, and… that destroys me. How did we never see it? We only realize it in Black Ops 6 when we see his room for the first time while rescuing him from prison—his room is full of beer cans and whiskey bottles, but after the next mission, none of that is there… it’s… weird… and… painful… as if I could do something… ha… but… why does he do it? We always see him so strong, and then suddenly… we discover he has alcohol problems… ouch… and in 1981, Adler was 44, and in 1991, he’s 54…

¿Crisis de la mediana edad?

¿Por qué Adler sentiría que no fue suficiente?

Rechazo y abandono personal

Sabemos que estuvo casado y que su matrimonio terminó mal. Hay indicios de que, si vieron mis otras teorías, perdió hijos, lo que sugiere que pudo haber enfrentado una pérdida devastadora o una relación conflictiva con su familia.

Su actitud con las mujeres en Black Ops 6 y su constante frialdad con figuras femeninas como Helen Park y Sevati Dumas podrían indicar un problema más profundo con el apego y la intimidad, no tiene nada que ver con ellas, sino más bien con Adler.

Relación con la CIA: Descartable e irrelevante

La CIA intentó jubilarlo desde los 49 años, lo cual debió ser un golpe brutal para alguien cuyo sentido de identidad está tan ligado a su trabajo.

Su frase "La CIA es como mi ex esposa" sugiere un resentimiento fuerte, como si la organización lo hubiera usado y desechado. Esto encaja con la idea de que teme volverse irrelevante.

El miedo a la obsolescencia

En Black Ops 6, tiene 54 años y sigue en campo. Podría haber aceptado la jubilación, pero no lo hizo. ¿Por qué? Quizás porque sin su trabajo, siente que no es nadie.

Su fascinación con las armas mejoradas en el modo Zombies ("El dulce, dulce aroma del capitalismo...") puede leerse como una metáfora: mejorar su equipo es una forma de mantenerse competitivo, de evitar sentirse viejo o inútil.

Complejo de Adler / Complejo de Napoleón

Aquí es donde entran los subtextos. Su lenguaje está cargado de referencias a poder, dominio y compensación:

"Metes dinero, escupes potencia de fuego y ese es el estilo estadounidense." → La asociación entre dinero, poder y masculinidad refuerza la idea de que necesita símbolos externos para afirmar su estatus.

"Creo que hasta me fortaleció el cabello." → Una referencia sutil a la virilidad; el cabello es un símbolo clásico de juventud y masculinidad.

Si Adler siente que está envejeciendo o que su atractivo y capacidad física ya no son lo que eran, es probable que compense con una actitud más exagerada. Su tono seductor y sobrador podría ser su manera de reafirmarse: "Sigo siendo dominante. Sigo siendo deseable."

El deseo de control absoluto

Frases como "¿Acaso te di permiso para mirarme?" y "Tómalo como una muerte piadosa" muestran que necesita estar en control de cada interacción.

En el modo Zombies, el mundo está literalmente colapsando, pero él mantiene su imagen de superioridad. Esto sugiere que el control es su mecanismo de defensa contra el caos.

Sus inseguridades no tienen que ver con su trabajo. Profesionalmente, Adler es impecable. No hay dudas sobre su competencia como agente ni sobre su capacidad de liderazgo. Pero en lo personal… ahí es donde la cosa cambia.Sí, podríamos decir que está en una crisis de los 50s, aunque en su caso, es más intensa que la típica crisis de la mediana edad porque su identidad está demasiado ligada a su juventud y virilidad. Su estilo de vida lujoso (ropa cara, cigarrillos y whisky premium) no solo refleja un gusto refinado, sino también un esfuerzo consciente por proyectar poder, estatus y masculinidad.

Miedo a la impotencia (en todos los sentidos)

No es solo lo sexual. La impotencia también puede ser pérdida de control, pérdida de dominio, pérdida de relevancia.

Los hombres con crisis de edad suelen buscar reafirmarse con símbolos de poder: autos caros, alcohol premium, compañía de mujeres jóvenes o aventuras extremas.

En el caso de Adler, estos símbolos están en su personalidad: la ropa cara, su tono sobrador, la forma en que disfruta mejorar sus armas, su tono seductor y dominante.

Algunas frases que refuerzan esto:

"Creo que hasta me fortaleció el cabello." → Cabello fuerte = juventud, virilidad. Si lo está mencionando, es porque la idea de perderlo le preocupa.

"El dulce, dulce aroma del capitalismo..." → Lo dice con un placer casi orgásmico, como si el dinero y el poder le dieran una satisfacción que otras cosas ya no pueden.

"Metes dinero, escupes potencia de fuego y ese es el estilo estadounidense." → Otra vez, dinero y poder = masculinidad.

Entonces… ¿Adler está compensando?

Sí, y en múltiples niveles.

Compensación emocional:

Puede que alguna vez haya intentado construir una vida personal y fracasó. Su divorcio y la posible pérdida de hijos refuerzan esto.

No busca volver a intentarlo porque su mecanismo de defensa es la frialdad y el desapego.

Compensación viril:

Ya no es el joven soldado de Vietnam, pero quiere seguir viéndose y sintiéndose como uno.

Las referencias a poder, dominio y fuerza pueden ser su forma de reafirmarse en un cuerpo que envejece.

Compensación existencial:

Si la CIA lo jubila, deja de ser relevante.

Si deja de pelear, deja de existir.

Su ego no soporta ser irrelevante, así que sigue peleando aunque su tiempo ya haya pasado.

Conclusión

Adler no es un hombre que duda de su capacidad en el campo de batalla, pero sí es un hombre que podría dudar de su capacidad en lo personal. Su crisis no es profesional, es emocional. Su lenguaje, sus hábitos y su actitud son un escudo para no enfrentar ese miedo a la irrelevancia, a la impotencia (en todos los sentidos) y a la soledad.Ya saben, ustedes pueden decirme lo que quieran y qué opinan, ¿cómo lo ven?

Como bonus: Y si, me voy a repetir, y autocitarme (por si no leyeron mi otra publicación, no pasa nada), perdón, pero siento que es un aspecto que refuerza mi hipótesis y es:

Me destrozó mucho como en black ops 6 Adler suelta una frase que dice "Beber en el trabajo, es como volver a Berlín..." al beber daiquiri letal. Y, no sé por qué Adler lo dice con mucho orgullo o fanfarronería (yo no estaría orgulloso de decir eso). La frase es una referencia a cold war... entonces... ¿Adler bebía en serio mientras trabajaba y no lo vimos durante cold war? Wow...supongo que su problema con el alcohol venía desde los 80s y no desde 1991 como sí vemos en black ops 6, y...eso me destroza ¿cómo nunca lo vimos? Solo nos damos cuenta en black ops 6 cuando vemos en su habitación por única vez al rescatarlo de una prisión que su habitación queda llena de botellas de latas de cerveza y whisky pero al terminar la siguiente misión nada de eso está...es...raro...y...doloroso... como si yo pudiera hacer algo...ja....pero...¿por qué lo hace? Lo vemos siempre tan fuerte y de pronto... descubrimos que tiene problemas con el alcohol... auch... y en 1981 Adler tenía 44 años y en 1991 tiene 54 años...

[safeturnip]

hey beautiful, what's a girl like you doing living all by yourse- wait, why are you screaming and pointing a cross at me

words: 2.9k

characters: GeminiTay, PearlescentMoon, Scott Smajor, ImpulseSV

summary: Gem moves into a new apartment and discovers an . . . unwanted guest.

additional tags: horror, feelings of isolation, mild body horror

(written for round 2 of soul searching for @mcyt-soulmate-sweepstakes !!)

AO3 link

***

Gem stared at the screen of her laptop, waiting for it to boot up, silently willing the circuitry to work faster. Stubbornly, the screen remained black, even as the sound of the fans whirring drowned out the ever-present muffled creaking and rattling of the apartment complex’s pipes. While the laptop struggled along, Gem cast a furtive glance around the confines of her two-room apartment—nothing. There was no one else here. It was just her. 

Of course it’s just me, Gem thought, trying to will her thoughts into reassuring territory and falling short. Who else would—

A flash of light from her laptop caught her attention, and she turned back to the offending electronic device. It’d finally turned on, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief, dragging it closer to her across the desk and immediately opening up the search engine, quickly typing in her query. 

“‘DIY exorcism’?” a voice questioned from directly behind Gem, reading out the text in the search bar. Every muscle in Gem’s body locked up. Slowly, she turned in her chair to face the source of that voice, dread pooling in her chest, wishing with every fibre of her being that there would be nothing there. Yet she knew that her paltry wishing was not enough to will away what she knew she’d see. 

Behind her was a woman with long honey-brown hair, and grey-blue eyes that seemed to catch and ensnare the near-dingy lighting of the apartment. Overtop her white T-shirt was a black hoodie, unzipped and with the hood half-pulled over her head, her hands tucked in the pockets of her jean shorts. Her mouth had the slightest tension at the corners like she was torn between laughing or bursting into tears. 

“Planning on evicting me?” the woman asked, tipping her head to the side. “That’d be so rude of you, Gem.” 

Still not saying anything, Gem dug her fingers into the backrest of the chair, staring at the woman—no, the ghost—in front of her.

“Nothing? No Hi, Pearl, how’ve you been? No It’s been so long, I’m so happy to see you again! My feelings are so hurt.” The ghost—Pearl—twisted her expression into something resembling moroseness while Gem continued to stare at her tension-filled trepidation. 

The longer she looked at Pearl, the more off she appeared. Her edges weren’t quite as solid as they should be; they were blurry and almost transparent, as if she was being viewed through a shimmering screen of heat. She was too still—she didn’t blink or breathe, she didn’t shift with the minute, barely-there motions of the truly alive. She didn’t have a shadow, as if light simply forgot that she existed and slid straight through her, as easy as a butcher’s knife through meat and bone and tendon. It was obvious how dead a thing she was. 

Gem hadn’t been blind to the apartment’s faults when she’d purchased it; in fact, the landlord of the apartment complex had told her directly about this unfortunate feature of the room. 

“Yep, it's haunted!” he’d cheerfully informed her when she’d come to view the room. She’d spotted the listing in a newspaper and had been surprised and tentatively optimistic over the low price. The landlord added, ���I’ve set the price so low because of the constant complaints of ‘supernatural’ occurrences happening in the room.” It was clear from the verbal air quotes he’d put around supernatural that he didn’t believe there was anything of the sort actually happening in the room. “You know, the usual horror movie crap—doors closing by themselves; crying and giggling heard when no one else is in the room with you; loud thumps that wake you up in the middle of the night.”

Gem hadn’t responded, just waited for the landlord to run out of words. His hair was the same dark brown as the paneling around the base of the hallway walls, the same dark brown as the door that led to the supposedly haunted apartment room. His eyes were a couple shades lighter than the dark green carpet, raised off the floor here and there from the slight warping of the wood floor beneath. The price of the apartment had already been enough to convince Gem to buy it, she just needed to get to the point where she could put her name down on the lease. 

“Yeah, it’s gotten so bad that all the previous tenants had to leave without notice because of how concerned they were for their safety.” Despite talking about such an off-putting topic, the landlord still had a genial smile on his face, the exact same smile he’d been wearing when Gem first stopped by, a newspaper clipping in her hand and nowhere else to return to. Gem idly wondered if he ever stopped smiling. 

The landlord continued: “My . . . friend said he thinks that there being a ghost in here—” with the hand not braced on his cane, he gestured loosely at the apartment beside them “—is a whole load of hogwash, and honestly, I have to agree with him. I’ve personally stayed in this room for a week and had nothing bad happen to me. If you do plan to move in here, I’m sure you’ll be fine!” 

“Thank you,” Gem said, the first words she’d spoken outside of a polite greeting. She summoned up a pleasant smile, and added, “Do you mind if I take a quick look at the room?” 

“Sure, sure.” The landlord unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Take your time; I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” He shot her a parting two-fingered salute then turned and left, the thump of his cane against the floor muffled by the carpet. 

Gem hadn’t given the apartment more than a cursory sweep—one room that was a bedroom with a kitchen attached, the other room the bathroom—before taking the two flights of stairs down to the landlord’s office. She’d signed the lease, handed over a not-inconsiderable amount of the cash she had left, and the apartment was hers. 

And for a while, everything had been fine. There were no ghosts, no supernatural occurrences, just the normal good and bad that came from living in a new place. 

Good: rent was cheap; the windows were closed, had locks, and were leak-proof; the bed was wedged into one of the corners of the room, surrounded by walls on two out of the four sides; wifi was an amenity included in the rent, which was a pleasant surprise during Gem’s first few days adjusting to the apartment. 

Bad: the floor right by her dresser creaked whenever she walked over it; the rooms were cramped in a way where she’d bang her elbows and knees against furniture she swore was further away the last time she checked; her clothes always somehow managed to slip off the hangers no matter how securely she hung them up. 

But they were minor annoyances she could live around. The more important thing was that she’d found somewhere warm and dry and affordable to live—somewhere far, far away from Scott and Impulse. 

In front of her, Pearl drifted closer—not walked, she would need to have bone and muscle in order to walk—the look in her eyes curious. Gem’s laptop lay forgotten on the desk, beside the television set that took up half of the desk whose default channel was crackling static, all her attention focused on the apparition before her. Pearl looked exactly the same as when Gem had seen her for the very first time. 

Her first appearance hadn’t been accompanied with an ominous thundercrack, or a streak of lightning knifing through the sky, or the temperature dropping to below freezing. It had just been: One day, Gem turned on the lights in the bathroom, then saw, in the mirror behind her, a woman with brown hair and flint-blue eyes. The only reaction to seeing a stranger in her apartment had been the slow, dull thought of Oh—this may as well happen. It hadn’t even registered to her at first that Pearl wasn’t actually there, it wasn’t until the lights flickered and Gem turned around to see nothing, that she’d realized. 

Gem had just thought it to be a one-time thing, had thought it to be a product of too many sleepless nights. But then the strangeness had continued: glasses of water hovering centimetres above the desk’s surface, a spark crackling in the gas range stove when she was in the bathroom, a dark figure lurking in the corner of the room when the only illumination came from the night time street lamps outside. And it was then that the label of the situation was changed from one-off hallucination to a haunting. 

“That’s what I love about you, Gem,” Scott would always say to her, over the remnants of a late breakfast, or at three in the morning when the world was still asleep, or backstage after one of their performances, his wry smile illuminated by dimmed stage lights. “You’re so . . . decisive. It’s—when you want something, you know you want it, and you just go for it! I find that admirable.” 

And when Gem left everything behind, burnt all the bridges between herself and her band members, she couldn’t help but think of Scott telling her that—you’re so decisive. That it was that decisiveness spurring her to move on and away so easily. It was that decisiveness contributing to her decision of staying at this apartment despite the constant haunting in her life, along with her slowly depleting store of money, along with her unwillingness to do it all again, pick up all her possessions and find another place. Of course it was her decisiveness, it was all her own choice to stay in this situation she’d created for herself. 

Pearl was leaning over slightly, peering over Gem’s shoulder to look at the laptop screen, muttering something that sounded like “surprised you’re not looking at the job market”, and it was that decisiveness that had Gem clenching her hands into fists to hide their trembling as she said, “I don’t want you in my space, Pearl.” Gem rested a hand on the keyboard of the laptop, half-turning to continue her search.  “And you refuse to go, so now I have to find a way to force you to leave.” 

If she’d still been facing Pearl, she would’ve seen Pearl’s expression go blank, a wall with its covering facade of wallpaper stripped away to reveal the old, rotting dilapidation hidden underneath. 

A sharp crackle of black static across the screen was Gem’s only warning before an invisible force slammed her laptop shut—Gem was barely able to pull her fingers out of the way. Gem spun around to face Pearl again, and choked back a scream, jolting away so violently that the edge of the desk slammed into her back. She barely registered the pain, her senses overrun by a panicked, clawing horror. 

Pearl had changed. She no longer looked like a young woman—or, that wasn’t quite right; she looked like a person, but only in the loosest of senses. As if she was something that couldn’t possibly be described, and the definition of person had been stretched and pulled at and warped until it could finally fit around Pearl, leaving behind something just close enough to be recognizable, yet simultaneously so unnatural that it had every one of Gem’s instincts crying out for her to run. 

There was something wrong with Pearl’s eyes. They were still the same grey-blue colour, but now they’d become stretched into something awful, lengthening vertically instead of horizontally, as though hooks had been inserted into her upper and lower eyelids and then pulled, forcing her eyes into that horrifying appearance. She hadn’t grown any larger in size, but her body now looked misshapen and elongated, a dead animal’s hide tacked down and spread out across a wooden stretcher. Her torso was now the same length as her legs, her arms and wrists and hands stretched out so that the tips of her fingers reached all the way down to her knees. She was a strung-out amalgamation of joints and limbs pulled gruesomely out of alignment. 

With her transformation came a faint but permeating smell of rot and burning flesh, the light from the corner lamp flickering like a stuttering dying breath. Gem felt cornered, the desk digging into her back, and her gaze darted around the room, searching desperately for an escape or a weapon or some form—any form—of help. Unbidden, she thought, uselessly There is nowhere to hide in this tiny apartment. 

Oh, Gem hadn’t always been afraid of Pearl. In the past, she could handle the radio switching itself on randomly, doors creaking slowly closed by themselves, waking up with her drawers and dressers flung open, their contents strewn messily around the room. But there hadn’t been any violence or outright aggression, there hadn’t been anything to make Gem consciously think she was in danger, and she thought she’d be able to live in relative peace with the ghost that had come with the apartment. But fear was a sneaky bastard. It had snuck up on her so quietly and so gradually that she didn’t notice it until its fingers were digging into her shoulders, its breath was ghosting across the back of her neck. 

It had built and built, an underlying anxiousness of there being something foreign in your space, in an area that was supposed to be safe, that belonged to you and you only. And this sudden terrifying display of Pearl’s—slamming the laptop shut, her deformed appearance, the way she so easily manipulated the space around her—caused that subconscious build-up of fear to spill over, overrunning Gem’s mind, her senses, until all she knew was that scrabbling instinctual terror. 

Pearl opened her mouth to speak, and the movement of her mouth wasn’t right, it was just a fake face mimicking the shape of words, but Gem still understood her perfectly when she said, “You’re stupid to think you can get rid of me, when I’ve been in this apartment for much longer than you have.” 

Abruptly, Gem realized the temperature of the room had dropped, cold slithering through the space and dragging icy nails along Gem’s skin, her sharp, shallow breaths clouding in the air before her. 

“Really, I thought you’d be grateful for the company,” Pearl said. “I’ve seen how you act, how you like to pretend that you’ve moved on from whatever it is you’re running from,” and Gem couldn’t breathe at those words, a vise crushing her lungs, at how Pearl had so easily reached into Gem’s mind and found the doors keeping thoughts Gem was so desperately trying to keep locked away, then wrenched them wide open so that—

Don't think about how she'd gotten a new phone number to ensure no one was able to contact her, but that didn't stop her from, whenever her phone rang, half-expecting to see one of two familiar numbers displayed on the screen. She never did. 

Don’t think about how she would wake up in the morning, warm and disoriented, prepared to go downstairs and see Impulse cooking breakfast for her and Scott. Impulse always was the best at getting up on time in the mornings. But then she'd turn her head to the side and spot the kitchen of her new apartment just a couple steps away, and the reality of her situation would come crashing back down on her. 

Don't think about how she was alone, how if everything truly had gone to plan she would never see Impulse and Scott ever again, and it was better for her this way, better to have isolated herself from them, especially after—

It took every ounce of Gem’s strength to wrestle that flood of memories down and away, but she managed it in the end, resurfacing to the pounding of her heart, adrenaline coursing hotly through her veins, her entire body trembling from fear or cold or sheer helplessness. The time where Gem hadn’t thought Pearl was dangerous felt as distant and far away as a ship sunk on the seafloor for centuries. I’m safe for now, was what she would tell herself whenever inanimate objects would start moving by themselves, whenever she heard an unfamiliar voice murmur nothing-words, and she habitually repeated that to herself now—yet directly on the heels of that assertion was a brand-new, traitorous thought of But for how much longer? 

Pearl reached out with her wrecked, warped hands, with those spindly jointed fingers like the legs of spiders. She went to touch Gem’s shoulders, and Gem simultaneously felt and did not feel. She did not feel Pearl’s fingers or palms upon her body, because Pearl was dead—she felt an invisible heaviness coating her body, weighing her down, pinning her in place as her heart slammed against her rib cage and her breaths came out fast and shallow. 

The thing before her smiled, and it was a terrible thing, hollow and inhuman. “But you’re all by yourself, far away from anything—anyone—familiar. You’re all alone.” Pearl didn’t move, but she seemed to grow in size, looming larger and larger over Gem until she blocked out the view of the rest of the apartment, until she was all Gem could see. “You’ve made sure of that.” 

As suddenly as she'd appeared, Pearl vanished, taking with her the smell of burning decay and the guttering light, leaving Gem alone in her now-freezing apartment. Wrapping her arms around her midsection, Gem curled in on herself, and she shook and shook and struggled to get her breathing under control.

[aprillikesthings]

So I think about Catra and Adora's first time a lot.

Like, okay: first of all, they've wanted each other for how long? How long have they both been lying to themselves and/or other people about how badly they desire each other? I'm sure it started when they were teenagers (ha, and I love how many canon-based fics mention this, that at some point the locker room/showers became a source of mutual, unspoken torture), but at least they were friends then, able to rough-house a bit, and Catra could sleep at Adora's feet.

But then The Sword happens and they spend multiple years apart--and still unable to resist chasing each other in fights. Because fighting is still better than not seeing each other at all, right? But then the portal happens, and they stop even seeing each other.

And those weeks after the Cat gets Saved, the start of them flirting and teasing that's not hidden in taunts and fighting ("did you just jump in fire for me?"), and now there's tons of casual touching ("yeah Adora, concentrate!") but Does it mean something else? Does it? Does it? DOES IT? The agony of not knowing, the risk of being wrong--we even see Catra have that meltdown about it!

The relief and joy of finding their love and desire reciprocated!!!

BUT

I know some people think it takes them weeks or even months to work up to having sex, and I get why. I know I'm in the "it was a few days, tops" camp. But I understand why people disagree.

Because holy shit, the combo of "I've wanted you for as long as I've been capable of wanting" and "our first kiss saved the universe," that just puts so much pressure on their first times being good!

First times are stressful enough!! Do they want this? Am I any good at it? Is this how they like it? Is this how I like it? How do I ask for them to do something different? Is my body what they were expecting or hoping for? What if I'm so nervous I can't enjoy it? What if I take too long to come?

So for Catra and Adora it's also "what if I've wanted this for this long, and then it's Bad/I do it wrong/she doesn't like it/we're not good together"

But also "what if our first kiss saved the universe....and then everything after that sucks"

Add Catra's fear around vulnerability and Adora's desperate desire to please while never thinking of herself and things can get tricky! We can be honest about that! They're both going to struggle with wanting things, with asking for them.

Which is why I think the two most likeliest scenarios are: One, "impulsively go for it the moment they get enough time alone," just to push through that fear all at once--but also because if things are in fact good right away, and then the next thing is good, and the next thing--I just can't see them stopping.

(It's also why there's just SO MANY fics where their first time is "kissing that gets desperate and leads to grinding on each other's thighs," because god forbid they not be in physical contact with as much of each other's bodies as possible)

Or two, working up to things paaaainfully slowly because they're so nervous, and at each step going "okay this is good, we can just keep doing this for a while"

Besides, let's be honest: it is fun to imagine them just making out for an hour lol

All that said! I do think they once they've had sex a few times and get comfortable, they'll get relaxed and playful about it. And then they're not going to be able to keep their hands off each other for a while, aaahaha

Anyway. Here's a long-ass but great meta post I didn't write about how She-Ra is an entire cartoon about queer desire that's still appropriate for kids.

[shehungers]

real talk tho

I talk about working out a lot bc it's become my second major hobby behind writing. I care about building a hot physique, sure, but I also work in a hospital where I'm constantly watching people my age waste away and die (and sometimes I do actually watch them die) or experience the worst days of their lives.

most of the time it isn't their fault. it's chronic ailments. it's things they had no control of. it's things that went wrong in the OR and eventually killed them.

but, sometimes, the reasons why they're there are from things they've done to themselves and those instances are just as hard to see through until the end.

I workout bc I know that I am fortunate to be in remarkable physical health overall. I have so many friends with nerve and pain disorders, disabilities that prevent them from the lives they want to live and I'm not ignorant that I privileged to be able to move and do the things that I do

it's one of the reasons why I don't squander this good health that I have. so I won't be 40 and need hip and knee replacements. so I won't be 60 be under a heart surgeon's knife.

I'm tired of seeing posts saying once you reach 30+ you're expired and doomed to pain every time you wake up. that you should expect to crack and pop like a glow stick and be perpetually exhausted

I'm so so so so so so tired of it

but, I'm also aware that the fitness community is horrifically ableist and they put people who don't workout under the same umbrella: lazy.

and that's not how it fucking works. at all. it's being undereducated and brought up in a system that still preaches that skinny is healthy and most beautiful, that three hours in the gym six days a week is the epitome of healthy living as opposed to eating for your body and moving in meaningful ways

I want to improve my fitness for myself: my health, my confidence, my strength, my readiness to knock people's heads off their fucking shoulders when the time comes

but, I really want to get good so I can help other people. I want to become more empathetic so I can be effective and approachable to people who do want to try something, but they feel like they can't talk to anyone about or ever change anything

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 331

Demon twins? Demon twins. 

Damian? Good at the assassin side of things, at least for a four year old, but Danyal? He’s okay, but he’s far better at things like poisons and bookkeeping. Which is honestly? Okay. They’re the League of Shadows, and sure a majority of the members are assassins, but it’s definitely not all there are. So? Danyal starts getting medical training. 

Not to say that either of the boys don’t know their fair share of violence and healing- it’s just better to let them play to their strengths. One doesn’t keep a league over centuries if they just have one type of warrior, or even just warriors. A variety is needed. 

So one gets trained more towards the business side of things. Damian may be better at wielding the weapons and killing- even if neither have had their first kill quite yet- but Danyal shows far more proficiency at acting, at masking who he is and gathering information. 

Damian, when he’s first sent to their Father, doesn’t mention his twin. Not because he’s jealous or hates him or anything like that. You just don’t talk about someone in an undercover mission in the League, and it’s not something he realizes isn’t a rule everywhere. 

Needless to say, the Bats have more than a mild freakout the first time Damian mentions a twin who will be coming to the manor now that his mission is over. 

[goethefaustworld]

I'll say that, when it comes to doctrine, I would only accept the words from the man, Jesus, himself: I don't really care for the gospel according to John... And I barely tolerate any other than Mark

Regardless, why Corinth? What was Timothy up that required that in a letter? What was the idea on Rome? I can kinda see how the through line is more or less "differentiate yourselves from the morally bankrupt rest of the world," which is present since (arguably) Exodus

But even then, the dietary restrictions, the way to deal with sickness like leprosy, the ideas behind worship, how to treat slaves, building architecture, and even restrictions on the types of fibers to mix have a rather clear purpose beyond spirituality. In that sense, a group of people wandering the desert during the bronze age would condemn homosexuality for a simple reason: to keep their numbers up

So when doing such statements in the eastern side of the Roman empire. Could it be a way to differentiate the movement from the half accepting of homosexuality Romans? But then the bias would become apparent, because the unacceptable thing was being the receiving part. To truly differentiate themselves, they'd need to deny the stigma about bottoming, which would put women on even ground on that field...

I find it ridiculous to blindly believe what someone else promises is unbiased and morally preferable. The gospels either contradict each other or have the exact same lines. I don't really accept Mathew's birth story, the reason being that the purpose of the narrative is to make Jesus similar to Moses: escaping death as a baby for being important. The apostle Mathew didn't even write the gospel!

Don't just blindly trust what people tell you! Jesus taught that! Yes, in the synoptic gospels!

I disagree with you in regards to the evolving nature of "sin"

Looking away from the homosexuality issue, most laws on marriage found in the bible are perfectly antiquated, seeing as we don't treat women as property anymore (for the most part)

Considering that levitical law is where the identification of (male) homosexuality as a sin can be found and it specifies a lot of things people don't really consider sinful (do you avoid mass when menstruating?), I don't find it wise to pretend it's timeless

And most notably, we're not part of a nomadic culture wandering the desert during the bronze age!

You are confusing law with sin. In Leviticus God was giving special laws to the Israelites to set them apart as a holy people. Yes, some laws have changed since that time but sins are still sins.

God gave the Israelites laws on homosexuality but he also described homosexuality as a sin. The Mosaic Law, which you are describing, is part of the old covenant God had with his people. Today, we are under a new covenant. Hence, the New Testament. But this is not an example of god changing his mind or the nature of sin evolving. Everything that happened in the Old Testament was setting the stage for the events of the New Testament. I mean, we can see God basically prophesying Jesus’s crucifixion as early as the story of Adam and Eve.

When Jesus was sacrificed that created for us a way to God without having to follow Mosaic Law. It doesn’t mean God changed his mind here or that the nature of sin evolved.

What is and isn’t a sin has never changed.