#;; and caused countless death and suffering

[noscomnias]

"even though we may take different paths, i am... still his little sister."

[drbtinglecannon]

How Belos remembers Caleb back in the human realm:

How Caleb actually was back in the human realm:

This is such a good addition to the ways the story has shown us over and over that Philip is an intentionally unreliable narrator.

Now, Luz is also an unreliable narrator as we've seen a few times, but with Luz it's clearly unintentional and a side effect of RSD, where she takes on more guilt than is warranted. Philip on the other hand, rewrites the story to make himself look better and be absolved of all guilt each time.

First we see it in "Elsewhere and Elsewhen", when Philip is exposed for purposely fabricating the entries in his journal, which we were following since Luz discovered it back in "Through The Looking Glass Ruins". It was deliberate on his part to doctor his own personal journal that he later personally delivers to a library, all centuries before he ever became Belos. And it worked! Philip appeared much kinder and genuinely curious of the Boiling Isles, so much so both the audience and Luz had sympathy for him, yet it was all a lie on his journey of genocide. He set about fabricating sympathy for himself long before he had any power or chance of destroying the Isles, relaying how deeply manipulative he is.

Then we see it again in "Hollow Mind", with Belos having a fake mindscape full of fabricated propaganda of his reign that hid his real memories of his life and actions. His own subconscious greeted them in a purposely innocent persona to lower their guard, then revealed himself after he got what he wanted. The layers of manipulation and dishonesty it takes to create such cognitive dissonance just on the off change his mind is ever explored is something that cannot be understated. Even further than purposely fabricating his journal, he stripped away parts of his own memory and presented his Inner Belos as a child all to garner, again, more sympathy.

Now we see it again here, in "Thanks To Them", where the first time the show directly shows us Caleb in the human realm outside of Belos' memory of him, he looks miserable. He has heavy bags under his eyes, sunken in cheeks, and a truly despondent expression.

It's entirely possible Caleb hid his misery from Philip, being the older child and having to take on responsibility to protect his younger brother, and it's also possible Caleb did enjoy his childhood and was genuinely happy in those earlier memories. But as this new shot shows us, Caleb eventually stops appearing that way and grows depressed being in the human realm, yet conveniently there's no memory Philip has that shows this stage of Caleb.

We can even dig a little further into some of the mindscape memories to see more of the framework for this final reveal.

Here we have the last memory of Caleb before the Boiling Isles memories start:

This is also the first memory where Philip isn't smiling. Caleb is smiling though, and this is the most in the light Caleb has appeared in a memory since the one of him carving that mask. Caleb slowly turned further away from the lighting throughout Belos' early memories, being shrouded in more and more darkness in each one, but this memory when Philip looks unhappy for the first time is when Caleb's finally turning back towards the light, and it's most likely the memory of when Caleb left the human realm.

Then here we have the first memory Caleb's eyes become visible:

The moment they reunited is when Philip finally remembers Caleb's eyes. And boy does he look drastically different from the man in the mirror. He doesn't have eyebags, his cheeks are no longer sunken in, and he looks happy.

This moment is also when Philip decides to kill him.

Because he looked too happy here in this world Philip thinks is hell.

And he looked far happier there than he did back home.

So Philip wipes away those details from his memory. Like he does every other detail that makes him appear to be in the wrong.

And we finally have the proof of it. When Belos said "Out of all the grimwalkers, you looked the most like him" he meant it, even after he willingly rewrote his own memories of Caleb to reflect differently.

[brionysea]

this man is pissing me off

[heirscrchd]

jet 🤝 azula

being so traumatized that your actions over time become far more radical than your friends can handle and so end up being abandoned/betrayed by them

[frecklenog]

i want you all to understand this.

insulin pens are very often used by diabetic children (or their parents, but they were very easy to use during the short time i was prescribed them when i was a child myself). they’re less cumbersome, produce less waste, and are far easier than pulling insulin from a vial with a single use syringe, as syringes are much more susceptible to air bubbles, which result in the diabetic not getting enough medication. i’m explaining this part because i know that some diabetic adults do also use them, and i’m sure that that’s true of diabetic adults in palestine with such scarce resources. when it’s life or death, you can’t really be picky.

the israeli occupation is now banning insulin pens from entering gaza.

lack of insulin results in diabetic ketoacidosis — essentially a very, very dangerous version of the effects of the keto diet. insulin is a key for the sugar from one’s food (both slow and fast acting, since all food has some carbohydrates, from nuts to potatoes to table sugar) to get from their bloodstream into their cells. without insulin, the body resorts to eating through its own fat stores rather than the sugar it cannot access and tries to flush the excess glucose that is in the blood through the urine. this results in weight loss, headaches, nausea, dehydration, blurred vision, abdominal pain, impaired mental faculties, and, if left untreated, will result in a coma, and eventually death within a matter of weeks. not “can.” it will kill you if not treated, and was largely considered a lethal diagnosis until insulin was discovered in the early 1900s and made readily available in 1922.

i’ve been in dka. admittedly, i was very young and have blocked much of it out. but i do remember that it fucking sucked. i couldn’t focus on anything, i was ravenous no matter how much i ate, and the room spinning to the point i felt like i was going to throw up became an increasingly regular occurrence. i was seven years old and wasting away like i was starved. i was dying. a few more days, and i likely would’ve gone into a coma and might not be here now.

to inflict that, willingly and knowingly, on innocent people, is nothing short of a crime against humanity, and violates the geneva conventions (item 2.a.ii. torture or inhumane treatment, including biological experiments and item 2.a.iii. willfully causing great suffering or serious injury to body or health). not that the israeli occupation cares, of course, as south african prosecutors have already extensively detailed their crimes in the icj, and this one in particular has already been committed near-countless times.

this entire occupation is a genocide, and this is only one more nail in that coffin. but, as a diabetic — as a human being who has been in that state and was lucky enough to have the resources to live almost another fifteen years (with the anniversary of my own diagnosis about halfway through next month), i can’t find the words to express my disgust and rage anymore. maybe it’s selfish to be so deeply impacted by this particular blow. i don’t know. but these people have done nothing wrong but be disabled in gaza, and as someone with the same disability, i know that no one deserves this, even if they have committed a crime (which, again, these civilians, largely children, have not). i will not fucking stand for it.

we need a ceasefire. we need an end to the occupation. we need a free palestine. now.

here’s a masterpost of how you can help.

EDIT: here’s a post on how to help diabetics in gaza specifically

[supportgaza]

Dear, free world: Apathy No More!

Note 1: Resharing my post from my terminated Tumblr account (@mahmoudkhalafff).

Note 2: Short-term goal of 30k for evacuation has been thankfully achieved. I am consulting with the Irish Refugee Council and Doras in Ireland regarding the procedures and requirements for issuing reunification visas once the crossing is operational and my family can evacuate for Egypt. We are a big family of many brothers and sisters who have so many children. They are scattered in different areas in the Gaza Strip including the North of Gaza where they can be very hard contact sometimes.

Many other Gazans in Limerick are working hard and reaching out to Irish politicians and MPs to facilitate a safe passage for their families out of Gaza to Ireland.

When piles and piles of people are apathetic when it comes to the genocide unfolding in Gaza, be the source of relief, hope, and support for the stranded helpless besieged people there. Astonishingly, our life in Gaza turned upside down in an instant?! We woke up one day to realize that a massive-scale war was to be launched against more than 2 million people in Gaza. My Facebook timeline was filled with countless posts in which Gazans publicly asked for forgiveness before their expected imminent mass murder. Can you imagine what it feels like reading all these scary posts and wondering if you should say a final 'Goodbye'?!

Then, Gazans ventured on their own version of Via Dolorosa (Way of Suffering) which included multiple forced displacements, acute life-threatening shortages of water and food, lost jobs, humiliation, mass destruction, injuries, and murder.

It is beyond shocking and sickening how desensitized our world has become to see all the horrifying images of children's body parts scattered everywhere and not lift a finger to stop this ruthless and inhumane genocide. I can say with all certitude on behalf of my people in Gaza that we have lost hope in all the vile desensitized regimes and politicians of the world.

However, we still have strong faith in the lovers and supporters of our just cause who never cease to shower us with their heartwarming words of support and uplifting wishes. Our belief in your humanity and support for our just cause drives us to ask you for help in this worst crisis in our history since the Nakba.

Please do consider donating, reblogging, and sharing.

Note: Vetted by:

1. @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi # 151 on the spreadsheet of Vetted Gaza Fundraisers List]

2. @riding-with-the-wild-hunt Here .

Tagging for reach <3

@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @ibtisams @vakarians-babe @90-ghost @sayruq @fairuzfan @sar-soor @fallahifag

@el-shab-hussein @taamarrud @humanvoicebox

@plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @nabulsi @stil-lindigo @soon-palestine @communistchilchuck @palestinegenocide @northgazaupdates2 @northgazaupdates @ghost-and-a-half @kyra45-helping-others @kyra45 @commissions4aid-international @feluka @appsa

@tortiefrancis @jinnazah @irhabiya @mazzikah

@stuckinapril @schoolhater @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @turian @ot3 @fromjannah

@neechees @brutalikhoa @khanger @malcriada

@determinate-negation @pcktknife @postanagramgenerator

@troythecatfish @commissions4aid-international 

[starleska]

i think ‘Big’ Jack Horner is Disney, and here’s why

many of us have had the pleasure of seeing the incredible Puss in Boots: The Last Wish by now, and were blown away by its clever writing, enchanting animation and emotional character arcs. yet there is one character who booted the trend of having a reason for his behaviour, and outright refused to experience any growth whatsoever.

let’s talk about ‘Big’ Jack Horner, and why i think he’s supposed to represent Disney:

‘Big’ Jack Horner isn’t just an antagonist in The Last Wish - he’s a villain. a self-obsessed, exploitative, murderous, petty, cruel bastard of a man whose awful behaviour isn’t just motivated by personal slights or childhood trauma: he sincerely enjoys hurting other people. whether it’s cheating his goons (’The Serpent Sisters’) out of a fair payment for their services or being excited about shooting a puppy in the face, there’s no denying that Jack delights in causing others pain and suffering. but what does he have to do with Disney?

let’s answer that question with another question: do you think that Jack, when placed next to the other antagonists - Goldi, The Three Bears, even Death - sticks out like a sore, plum-coloured thumb?

of course he does! but why? well, let’s look at Jack on a surface level. Jack is a monolith of a human being. not only is he physically huge and intimidating, he is the inheritor of an enormous pastry fortune and operates in the manner of a mob boss, with countless resources and a whole variety of powerful magical items at his disposal. indeed, Jack employs a crack team of bakers/assassins called ‘The Baker’s Dozen’ to carry out many of his tasks. although Jack does harm others himself, it is because of these resources - including the people who work for him - that he is able to bypass many of the obstacles faced by our protagonists in an honest and character-developing way (e.g., the Pocket Full O’Posies in The Dark Forest). Jack doesn’t need to have a character arc the way the other characters do, because he is so wealthy and owns so much.

but Jack’s reason for owning so much and being obsessed with magic and magical items isn’t through intellectual curiosity, or a traumatic backstory where he needed to learn how to wield magic. do you know what Jack’s covert motivation for owning all of the magic in the world is?

it’s money.

when we get the flashback of Jack’s childhood, dancing for the entertainment of an audience using his nursery rhyme, we see him becoming jealous of Pinocchio - and we see Gepetto in the back, absolutely raking in the cash. if we consider this flashback as that crucial moment within which Jack decided to become what he is today - and the presence of our off-brand Jiminy Cricket inclines us to think so - then we can understand that Jack decided that from that moment forward, he would own all of the magic. 

let’s go back to The Baker’s Dozen for a moment. this team of highly-competent, multidisciplinary artisans do everything for Jack, whether it’s baking the pies which make him rich, or laying down their lives at his service. we aren’t given an in-universe reason for why they do this. yes, Jack is feared, but he is still the subject of mockery due to his humble beginnings as a nursery rhyme character. it certainly isn’t due to being treated or paid well. however, if we view the Baker’s Dozen as a metaphor for overworked, exploited artists whose views are routinely dismissed by the money-hungry, powerful corporation who owns their craft...things start to add up, don’t they? considering historic allegations of worker abuse at the hands of Disney, having Jack Horner literally step on their spines and encourage them to flex takes on a whole different meaning. 

it doesn’t end there. do you recognise the items that Jack pulls out of his Mary Poppins bag when his Baker’s Dozen are being destroyed by the Pocket Full O’Posies - the items that he calls ‘the big guns’? it’s the broomstick from Fantasia, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty, the size snacks from Alice in Wonderland, and a knock-off Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio - all references to some of Disney’s earliest and most famous films.

still don’t believe me? well, let’s recap more of the items Jack has in his repertoire:

a hook-hand (referencing Captain Hook in Peter Pan)

a trident (referencing King Triton in The Little Mermaid)

poison apple bombs (referencing The Evil Queen in Snow White)

a glass slipper (again referencing Cinderella)

remember what happens when the knock-off Jiminy Cricket (interesting that there are so many Pinocchio references specifically, huh?) is horrified that Jack is losing so many men? Jack says he isn’t worried about losing the manpower, because he has a bottomless bag full of magical weapons. Jack literally gets his power off of the backs of his workers. sounds a lot like a big company justifying worker layoffs and exploitation because they have so many properties and are too big to fail, doesn’t it? 

hell, Jack doesn’t even know what half of these items do! when he’s using the unicorn horns as ammo, he is surprised that they cause people to explode in a shower of confetti. viewing Jack through this lens, it’s difficult not to think about enormous corporations gobbling up properties and churning out content with little to no regard for their artists (looking back at The Baker’s Dozen - some of whom do perish in the fight with the unicorn horns) or what the properties are about. we haven’t even touched on Jack coveting the Wishing Star, a recurring motif in countless Disney movies as representing magic, dreams, and boundless creativity. 

now, i hear you saying, ‘but Star! why would DreamWorks bother writing their bad guy as a metaphor for Disney?’ believe it or not, this isn’t the first time that DreamWorks have done this. in case you didn’t know, Lord Farquaad is a caricature of Michael Eisner, former chairman and CEO of The Walt Disney Company. the production of Shrek was actually quite troubled; animators who were perceived as having failed on other projects were ‘Shreked’, or sent to work on Shrek, instead of working on other (presumed to be more lucrative) films. of course, DreamWorks was co-founded by previous Disney CEO Jeffrey Katzenberg, hence the animosity towards Disney and its works evident in the Shrek franchise. this is what formed the story of Shrek: an ugly, crude outsider character taking on the clean-cut moralising of a dictator hell-bent on a so-called ‘perfect’ world, all created against the creative backdrop of a painful separation from Disney and a great deal of pent-up rage. 

the irreverent, crass and sometimes adult humour of Shrek was a middle finger to Disney’s high-censorship control on animation. this is why Lord Farquaad (which you may have noticed sounds a bit like ‘Fuckwad’) is so obsessed with Duloc being ‘perfect’, and why he couldn’t stand the freedom of the fairy tale creatures who are the heroes of the first Shrek movie.

in fact, this kind of meta-commentary permeates the Shrek franchise: 

The Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2, despite being a fairy tale creature herself, is highly prejudiced against characters who break out of their perceived social norms: i.e., Shrek marrying Princess Fiona and getting his Happily Ever After. she is an expansion of the control left over by Lord Farquaad, and rich because of her monopolisation of fairy tale creatures and their stories. 

Prince Charming in Shrek the Third fails miserably to capitalise on these themes, but we’ll get back to him! 

Rumpelstiltskin from Shrek Forever After tackles the gluttony of franchise reboots, and how soulless and rooted in corporate greed attempts to reboot often are. whilst not necessarily Disney-specific, Shrek Forever After follows the box office bomb that was Shrek the Third: a movie which noticeably fails to write a compelling narrative approaching any of the themes of the previous two films. the writers learned from their mistakes and wrote a movie which satirised their own selling-out of the franchise, becoming hollow and unnecessary and ‘perfect’ - the very thing they were making fun of in the earlier Shrek films.

there is one more area i’d like to touch on: Jack Horner’s source material. we know that Little Jack Horner is quite obscure: an 18th-century English nursery rhyme involving a boy who pulls a plum out of a pie with his thumb, and congratulates himself for his fortitude. but did you know that from its earliest conception, Little Jack Horner was associated with foolishness and dishonesty?

it’s true: the simple yet inexplicable nature of the poem was lambasted for being infantile, and quickly became the subject of revision, moralisation, and even political satire. it is no mistake that to ‘be under one’s thumb’ (as many of the characters in The Last Wish are to Jack, both literally and figuratively) means to be under one’s decisive control. the choice of Jack Horner for the villain of The Last Wish is a clever one, because we could easily have ended up with a sympathetic Jack, whose ostracisation as ‘not even a fairy tale’ may have led to a justifiable motive, even for his specific brand of cruelty. but instead, the writers of The Last Wish have gone one step further; they’ve transformed a source affiliated with idiocy and deception into a metaphor for a global multimedia conglomerate...all while portraying him as simultaneously terrifying, powerful, and ridiculous. 

it has been over a decade since Shrek Forever After was released, and Disney has changed dramatically in that time. a global giant, Disney now owns more enormous money-making properties than ever thought possible, and consistently capitalises on nostalgia for its early properties to make more money and accumulate power. since breaking out of its exclusive licensing agreement with Disney in 2016, DreamWorks has had no official connection to Disney, making the ground for mockery and satirisation of the company which spawned the studio all the more fertile. ‘Big’ Jack Horner is not just a glamorous return to form for the dreadful, unapologetically evil villain which Disney has eschewed in modern times - he’s a hulking, egocentric monster whose avarice rivals that only of the corporation he’s inspired by. 

and those are my thoughts on ‘Big’ Jack Horner! of course this is by no means the definitive interpretation - we should all just have fun with the movie and come up with whatever theories we like 🥰💖 i’d love to hear your thoughts on him and The Last Wish in general - he’s definitely one of my favourite bad guys to be released in the past few years!

thanks so much for reading, and have yourselves a wonderful day 🥰

[coke-vapor]

if there ever was to be a war against the gods, i don’t think anyone from pjo would be on their side, percy says he understands luke’s perspective in hoo and you can see parts of that in the choices he makes. after everything they’ve gone through at the hands of the gods? they’d never side with them again.

but the person i want to focus on is will.

will who lost everything in the first war, will who saw countless kids, his siblings die in that war. who was thrust into the role of camp counsellor at only 12 after witnessing michael and lee die only days before. will who saw even more kids die fighting gaea. will who saw jason grace, one of the bravest demigods hes ever met, die on a quest for his now-human once-god father. jason who after giving his entire life to the gods, got nothing in return. will who knows a drop of the pain nico, the person will loves with everything, has suffered because of the gods and their cruelty towards him, not to mention all he suffered indirectly because of them. will who went to tartarus, faced the trauma of it as well as being faced with his past and the losses he’s faced. will who survived as a child of apollo. that will. that will being so tired of seeing the pain and death caused by the gods, he simply… stops caring about the gods.

he’d still rather not use violence still. if theres a way to work it out without violence hed prefer that. but if the need comes will can be absolutely terrifying in a fight. no one expects will to be capable of pain, being the camps head healer and generally a kind person; until the same camp songs sung to sooth scared kids as their bones heal are now screeched at a ear shattering volume, using light to permanently blind without remorse, manipulating plagues to spread instead of heal. will is terrifying if he gets angry enough. if facing him, one is reminded that the sun is still a burning ball of gas, and not something to screw around with and neither is will solace. god forbid you lay a hand on someone will cares about. it will never be forgotten.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Could you do Orc Tribal Leader X Reader on your wedding night?

A/N: I SWEAR I'm literally just writing the same stuff over again b/c I had a story just like this, but you know what I never get tired of it because its like a top fantasy bro. Hope this one was better than that version at least

Content warnings: Forced Marriage, kidnapping, attempted escapes, nonconsensual touching, infantilization of reader  

Synopsis: Your village, destroyed and burned. Your life picks up somewhere you would never have imagined. Maybe, death is a better option than being an orc’s spouse. 

Word Count: Approx. 2600 

The autumn solstice was a bountiful, beholden time of year. From the greeneries of cabbage and the fowls hatched in summer now fully grown, there was much to be harvested and ripened for the taking. Your town was boisterous, full of life with a variety of competitors and businesses attempting to lurch at any tourist’s or local’s wallet to get them to buy countless crops, meat, and woven goods.  

Your tiny tea shop, suffering from last July’s drought, was finally starting to perk up with re-growth. Black tea, jasmine, bergamot, even hybrid blends like crushed raspberry and chamomile-- you could assemble enough to raise prices, label the small reaping as an imported foreign good luck charm that when drunken, blessed women with marriage prospects and men with wealth.  

That was, before however, you became bound and gagged to a chair, pleasantries being exchanged around you in a language harsh in your ears. The fires... You remember them well, the putrid stench of charred meat from the butcher next door, his body even more ablaze. Your jade boxes of fine silk bags meant for holding gifts of tea, becoming laden with ash and dust. Every scrap of money you saved up under the floorboards disappearing into floating particles and melted coins.  

“Brutes,” Your uncle called them, “deranged beasts with only two things in mind: bloodlust and greed.” 

Orcs were not well-received in a conservative, fearful town of humans. Even the elves, seen as symbols of beauty in mortal standards, were causes of paranoia and irritation whenever they made their rounds nearby.  

It was no wonder that the lines of tusked, olive-fleshed creatures in animal skin were spotted, the guards of your small city went on a rampage. Bows and arrows were no match for iron bones and teeth of steel.  

You, were no match for anything wider than a tree trunk. So when fire caught to your village, your home now rampaged for its finest ‘offerings’ to the orcs, you were left to be eaten by the licking flames. And yet, was it a blessing or a curse that one of the warriors decided to haul you on his back, doting on how “nicely you’ll do” as a wedding gift. You didn’t realize that the gift was to be part of the ceremony yourself.  

With smoke in your lungs and your eyes blurred by dirt and ash, you watched the ceiling cave in on your tiny tea-filled shack, bright orange and red dancing from behind the window panes as you drifted away.  

Daraktan is spoken all around you, harshly and with flicking tongues. You can hear snippets of English, wondering what’s going on behind the black veil covering your head. You don’t dare remove it, recalling what the orc woman, supposedly your now husband’s ‘mother’ telling you in your native tongue.  

“Touch this, and you will surely die. My alfhild will remove it, when it is time.”  

And so, you wait. Digging your fingernails into your palms, crying quietly in heavy furs and leather, the occasional hand coming to pull your shaky one to their mouths, kissing the tip of your index finger.  

“Aka’magosh..” They mumble to you, seemingly more at the body to your right. 

The calloused hand of someone much larger than you, whom you have assumed is your husband from his constant appearance nearby, occasionally comes to grace your back, to rest a hand on the top of your head, to smoothen your veil or the soft fur shawl on your legs.  

His hearty laugh hurts your ears, the jingles of the metal jewelry he adorns constantly making noise as he shifts.  

“Please..” You whisper, praying, to whoever may be listening. Why you? Why, out of all the fair, eligible humans of your town, were you picked out from the rubble to be “saved”? To be married to a faceless orcish man, who would surely break you in half before morning? 

The bitter cold of coming winter brushes against your legs. You can feel that you’re not inside wooden walls, and yet unnatural lighting seems to shine through your veil at times.  

“Omulork, I think I will take my… wedding gift, to be with in solitude.” 

Loud, deep laughs fill the room, the guttural voices of female orcs being swallowed up by uncountable numbers of warriors surrounding you. Your body shivered as a gust of wind blew in, the autumn breeze barely being kept at bay from where you sat.  

“Enjoy the festivities, shedzvagas!”  

His unique husk leaves everyone in the room to cheer in their orcish language, tough and painful pats coming to your back, the festive shakes to your shoulder nearly making you topple. 

That same heated, abrasive hand comes to grab your roped wrists, lurching you firmly, yet gently from your place on the ground. Panic started to fill your stomach as it rose to your chest, the warm aura of an orc next to you radiating to heat you from the chilly weather outside.  

Now. It was now or never. You didn’t want to think anymore what he would do to you when you were alone, when you had no one to cry to for help.  

Your feet moved before the thought finished crossing your mind. Your hands shook as you stumbled in a sprint forward. You passed thick bodies as you ran blindly, making it a mere five steps before a pair of meaty hands grabbed you by the hips. 

“A feisty one, Gar’mak!” The sounds of the orc woman who forced you into your wedding attire spoke up, a drunken laugh leaving her plump lips. “Alfhild, better not leave it out of your sight.” 

You hated how clear the English they used was to your ears, how human they all sounded, how when they spoke in your native tongue-- it was meant for your ears. She wanted you to know, to let the fear soak into your chattering teeth.  

The orc keeping you captive merely laughed, tossing your weightless body to his shoulder just like he had done when pulling you from the cobble of what was left of your tea shop. 

You screamed, biting down on what you could reach from under your veil. But the salty, thick flesh from beneath you was aloof, offering no reaction as a double pat was brought to your buttocks.  

“Now now, Djenifor, don’t fuss.” Gar’mak mused, each step he took forward making your body thump against his. He held a tight grip on you, not caring for the scratches you layered his back with. “I won’t try to hurt you… I will keep you safe, try my best to keep your fragile body in one piece.”  

The coldening night air was a drastic change to the room of heavy body heat and weighty movement where the wedding ritual and festivities were held. Now, it was quiet. You could hear the loud chattering begin to drift, songs and chants rising again as they once had when you were unceremoniously married to your new ‘husband.’  

Gar’mak patted your butt again, moving down to rub at the back of your thigh with a gentle, firm rhythm. He seemed to hum to himself, satisfied with the nights events. Scored himself a spouse and the treasured belongings of a human town.  

He must be pretty proud of himself, you seethed.  

The tears were beginning to sting the corners of your eyes, frantically scratching at the orcs back when you felt the warmth of an enclosed area meet your skin.  

“No, no--” You began to kick, trying to shove off the arm holding you steady on the orcs’ shoulder.  

“Settle down now--” Gar’mak ordered softly, putting you down on the fuzzy ground. You managed to hit his face, the hard scrape of tusks scratching your hand as a firm nose nearly cracked your knuckles.  

The orc went silent. Quiet in rage, he rips your veil away with a grip hard enough to tear hair out if he so desired.  

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the dimly lit tent, lanterns glowing at the corners as the mass of a creature leers over you. You forgot just how… big, orcs were. From afar they looked small, bigger than a human, but no threat due to distance. But now… he was above you, twice your height, twice your size, twice if not thrice everything. His palm the size of your skull, his eyes gleaming and looking over your body, weak with exhaustion and fright.  

Small, intentional scars were placed under his auburn eyes, some kind of tribe symbol you were sure. Thick eyebrows furrowed at the way tears decorated your cheeks, the exhales from his flat nose blowing hot breath on your chest.  

“Please, I, I can’t, I don’t belong--” You fumble over yourself, trying to slide back on the floor of soft wolf and caribou furs.  

“Shh, shh now,” The orc puts a hand to your ankle, an action that jerks you to a stop. “I won’t hurt you, lebam…” 

You sincerely doubt that, but the sentiment sounds genuine from his broken, baritone voice. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, pulling slowly with immeasurable strength at your leg. You slide towards him with little strain, even with your muscles going rigid for you to stand your place, your fingernails digging into the ground beneath you.  

You shake out your name, reluctant to give it.  

“Ah. What a human name; a scared wee human, aren’t you?” 

You don’t dare to respond, waiting for the sound of your snapping ankle. 

“They call me Gar’mak, though that may be too difficult for simple human brains. Mak is fine, little Djenifor…” 

You don’t want to call him anything, to refer to him at all-- yet, he looks keen to hear you say it. There’s an expectation in his eyes, a flick of his giant tongue against his lips.  

“Mak..” You mumble, trying not to gag.  

“Yes…” The orc’s hand frees your leg, caressing up to your cheek as he wipes away a forgotten wet stream of tears.  

“Please, just let me go--” You beg under your breath, scared of the way he seems to be eyeing your knees, your frail neck, your round ears.  

“You know that’s not going to happen,” He doesn’t seem angry at you for asking, just… Sorry. “We are bound forever now; even the gods couldn’t tear us apart. Wherever you go, I will find you. Whenever I leave, you will feel me gone. By sunrise tomorrow your scars will be given, and you will become one of us.”  

The panic begins to settle once again in your stomach. Maybe, tonight, yes-- tonight, if you could escape. You could-- just maybe you could find a way, past their all-seeing eyes, their all-hearing ears, escape to the mountains they took to get you here. 

 “But can’t you change it back?” Your voice cracks, expression twisting into an ugly cry as you feel thick fingers dig into your hair. “Just, we can go back-- just let me be…”  

You sob for what feels like too long, hours maybe, Gar’mak’s eyes never leaving you as he pulls you to his thigh. He brings a cotton blanket to your legs as he shushes you, the tenderness of his eyes a foreign sight compared to the façade he forced you to endure during the night's festivities.  

When your cries had turned to miserable, quiet sniffles, a muscled knuckle finds its way under your chin. He turns your head to look at him, eyes red and droopy as you try to think of any method of escape.  

“You’ll learn to like it here, human.” Gar’mak thinks for a moment, caressing your leg with a single finger.  

 “We are far more civilized than your kind-- far more… Fair. You’ll be treated well. The spouses of warriors do not go unfed, unbathed. Unloved, most of all. You will be cherished; I will cherish you, as long as you let me.”  

The orc grips your jaw in his hand, firm enough to where his fingers made dimples in your cheeks, but softly to where you felt like a mouse in someone’s closing palm. A kiss was planted to your temple, your body pushed deep against your husband’s as he holds you close enough to suffocate. You wait for him to choke life from you, and yet it never comes. He is harsh with his touches, but not harsh enough to hurt.  

“Please, let's finish tonight how it was meant to go, hm? Let me hold you…” He murmurs, all soft and lamblike into your ear. It sends shivers down to your soles, hot breath layering your neck as he looks at your lips with such intensity.  

You fear saying no, but the word rises up to your throat.  

It doesn’t make it out in time. Lips engulf yours, the stiff coldness of bone-colored tusks brushing against your face as Gar’mak holds you tight. Just one kiss is enough to make his demeanor act up.  

Your unassuming, comfort-driven spot on his lap is altered swiftly. You find yourself straddling the orcs’ waist, a hand pressed against the back of your head as your tied hands remain useless against his chest.  

You don’t know whether to speak, to scream, to bite at his lips-- but you remain flexile, afraid of the rough hand holding your skull so tenderly, the other gripping your thigh to wrap around his flank. You’re like a resistant doll, licked lips becoming tender as the orc pushes against you with such tenacity.  

You see his eyes open, staring into your wide, unblinking ones. They seem to communicate more than just lust-- its desire, desire for your reciprocation.  

Gar’mak waits… he kisses you, eyes narrowed on standby for your submission. They’re hazy and make you wonder if this is enough to make him release his brutish side, the part that showed no mercy for your neighbors or your home. What would happen, if you broke away or dared to claw at him?  

That thought doesn’t stay for long, not when the tough hand on the back of your head moves to your neck, squeezing just enough to bruise.  

You wince, lips pursing in reaction just in time for his next tongued assault.  

That slight opening of your mouth, the press of your lips against his, is all he needed. You find yourself twisted beneath his body as you’re brought to lay on the furry floor, the orc lying above you.  

“That’s right, I’ll be soft Djenifor… just do as I command, keep smelling so sweetly for me.” 

Scars litter his shoulders and collarbone, metal necklaces and piercings dangling on his olive-green, lightly haired chest as you fear how much it would take for him to crush you.  

He’s so quiet, letting go of your mouth as the orc’s curled tongue licks a slow, wet stripe down your jaw. His hands grab your thighs to wrap your legs around him, intent on keeping you steady and so close you practically breathe the same air.  

Before he leans to kiss you feverishly again, the orc brushes your cheek with his knuckles, petting down the amalgamated fabrics you wear to commemorate your wedding.  

 “You’re so lucky I found you first, that I had saved you from that rubble without layering an extra scratch; my brethren would not be so kind.”  

He kisses your cheek, a soft, hungry grin playing on his plumped and tusked lips. “So stay pliant like this for me, wee human, and you won’t feel any pain.” 

You lay rigidly, squeezing your eyes shut as a tender, all-consuming kiss eats you up, preparing you for the night’s affairs.  

[19-1-20-25-18]

Last info post. After this there will be more of full artworks.

Bill suffers from BPD and Stanford has autism.

Bill didn't realize that something was wrong with him until Ford created for him an analogue of pills for what he used to live with. He did not understand that constant outbursts of anger are not normal, that constant mood swings are also not the norm. Many do not see or hear what he sees when he is alone. After Bill began the course of treatment that Ford would prescribe with the advice of several therapists, he began to miss the old feelings. He didn't give out anything that could bring him joy again, or the filled feeling in his chest that was so pleasant to him. He was ready to face again what was hurting him and others. Bill didn't need sleep, but the side effects of the pills, which Stanford hadn't foreseen, were literally disabling his consciousness. He felt detached from the world, as if everything he did was meaningless. Nothing was as enjoyable as before. He tried to drown out these thoughts with work, not allowing himself to relax even for a minute, so as not to face the reality of what was happening again. But the further he went, the further he got away from Ford. He didn't like it.

This pushed him to give up the pills from time to time, after which all the symptoms returned with renewed vigor. Paranoia, mood swings, hallucinations in the form of his parents and their screams before death. He could hear them… "Why did you do that?" The emptiness inside him that he so desperately wanted to fill was coming back, hurting himself and a loved one. He stopped loving again, the world was divided into "black and white", when at one moment he was ready to sing Ford's praises, but at the slightest mistake, Ford turned into something terrible, something that was not worthy of love and something that deserved pain and all the anger and despair that Bill was testing it. Obsessive thoughts of murder, uncontrollable actions, a feeling of unbearable loneliness. All this came back to him with a new wave. It happened that Ford found Bill in a room full of broken things and torn wallpaper on which triangles were painted in blood… _

Bill has many forms. From young women to senile old men. He changed them depending on what people needed, he became someone they wanted to see and love. Having assumed his current appearance, he planned to cause terror in people and show his authority even with his appearance. But even with this look, Ford fell in love with him. It was only after that that Bill decided that this will be the only form he would take.

Bill can only relax when he is next to Ford. In all other situations, he cannot afford himself to do this, both for personal reasons and for reasons of his work.

Bill can also read minds, but after he married Ford, he never did this to him, as he respects him and his personal space.

At their first kiss, Bill couldn't keep his human form because of the influx of emotions. If Ford had reacted in any way incorrectly or said something that might have seemed wrong to Bill, he would have been dead a long time ago.

Ford has been investigating the origin of the triangle on ancient records for a long time. While Bill was with him all the time and listened to Ford's theories, sometimes agreeing with him or confusing him or carrying complete nonsense like: "I'm sure this triangle would be a good kisser."

During all the time that Bill was in the human dimension, he had countless husbands and wives whom he could never love. They either left him, or Bill left on his own. It happened that because of boredom, he stayed with a person for the rest of their life, emotionlessly watching their last moments of existence. And it was only with Ford that he could feel what love was. And along with this, the fear of losing a loved one, the excitement for him. If before that he did not know what the meaning of human life was: so short and worthless, now this "pathetic life" was all he lived for.

[pxob]

angel eyes

Genya Shinazugawa x Fem!Reader

Word count: 5524

Category: Enemies to lovers, slow burn romance, angst and fluff.

Warnings: Manga spoilers (if you squint), mentions of death, blood and injury and swearing.

Prologue 

Kanae-sama and Shinobu-sama had taken you in as a child after a demon attack had brutally slaughtered your parents. From that day on, you harboured a deep resentment towards the foul creatures that had caused so much pain and suffering, not just to you but to countless others as well.

Despite the trauma you had endured, your gratitude towards the Kocho family never wavered. They had taken you in, provided you with a loving home, and helped you heal from the devastating loss of your parents. 

While Kanao was timid and obedient, you were more like a replica of Kanae-sama's personality - kind, loving, and easy-going, except when it came to your deep-seated resentment towards demons. 

Your bond with Kanae-sama was as tight as any sibling relationship could be. Shinobu-sama recognised your deep connection with her biological sister and would even let her strict personality slip around you. From dawn until dusk, you trained with Kanae-sama and shared meals with her every evening. You were inseparable, to the point where Shinobu-sama had to physically intervene to separate the two of you. 

Until she died at the hands of Upper Moon 2. The news spread like wildfire, and you threw yourself into training with tireless resolve, determined to become the Tsuguko that Kanae-sama had hoped for. 

Kanao and Shinobu-sama were worried about you day and night, and despite Kanao's silent presence, she never left your side. She was aware of the hole in your heart that may never be filled again after Kanae-sama's death. 

A part of you, gone. 

“You’re not going to like this,” Aoi said as a way of greeting. She was standing at the sliding door of yours and Shinobu-sama’s research room. 

“Aoi-chan,” you looked up at her from your microscope. “What are you unhappy about now?” You teased. 

“Oh, it’s not me who's going to be unhappy,” Aoi said, giving you a knowing smile. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity as you heard a pair of unfamiliar footsteps approaching. 

Aoi stepped aside and introduced you to the boy. "This is Shinobu-sama's Tsuguko," she said, "She'll be giving you frequent check-ups, so please treat her with respect." Her words dripped with venom as she added, "And if you don't, I'll poison your medication." 

The boy stood in the same spot where Aoi had been moments before, his impressive height looming over her. He donned the uniform of a demon slayer, and his muscular physique strained against the tight sleeves. As you observed him closely, you couldn't help but count the numerous scars that littered his body. 

You also couldn't help but notice the unruly, unevenly cut hair on his head that resembled a rooster's comb. 

“You’re fucken kiddin’ me,” were his first words. 

You smiled in realisation, remembering clearly where you first met this boy.

Upon reaching the mountain top, you both were met with the discord of yelling and bodies shifting aggressively on the cobblestone path. 

“This is for starin’ at me, ya yellow-headed freak,” the boy shouted as he grabbed the other young boy by his yellow kimono. 

The examinees were scattered, murmuring, yet none intervened. 

“I WASN’T STARING AT YOU!” He shrieked. 

Everyone held their breath, waiting to see what would happen next. 

“Ya were, dickwad,” the boy replied, his fist raised menacingly. 

Without hesitation, you swiftly made your way towards the boy, grabbing his wrist tightly. 

“It’s rude to assault strangers,” you said calmly, a smile plastered onto your face. 

"The fuck," he said aggressively as he tried to retract his wrist from your grasp, you tightened your grip even more. 

The yellow-haired boy fled the moment he saw an opening, tears streaming down his cheeks as he trembled uncontrollably. 

“Let go, bitch,” he spat out, face turning red. 

Kanao took a step toward him, a silent threat emanating from her. 

“It’s okay, Kanao,” you said kindly, “Some people are unfortunate to not have been taught basic manners.” 

The bystanders began to chuckle lightly. 

"One day, I hope he learns to be kind," you said, twisting his wrist firmly. "Otherwise, his attitude will be the death of him." You then took hold of his elbow, manoeuvring it into a lock and guided him towards the ground. 

A resonating thump followed as he hollered below you. 

“YOU FUCKEN BITCH I’LL SLAUGHTER YOU!” 

“Your attitude has not changed since then it seems,” you stood, slowly walking towards him. 

He had grown an incredible amount in the short time since you last saw him, a clear indication of Himejima's rigorous training regimen and, most likely, his constant consumption of demon flesh. 

"Thank you for bringing him here, Aoi-chan," you said, the boy was staring back at you with a bewildered expression. "You may go now," you added, dismissing Aoi with a nod of your head. 

“Please come in,” you said, turning and leading the way towards the working desk, where there were two chairs on opposite sides of the table. “Please take a seat,” you gestured towards one of the chairs, noticing that the boy was still standing by the door. 

"I'm not coming in," he declares, looking down the hallway, averting his gaze. 

"Why is that? I won't bite," you joke with a friendly smile. But the boy remains rooted to the spot. 

“What’s your name?” you asked politely. 

“None of your business,” he snapped back. 

“Okay, none of your business,” he scoffed at that. “I’m going to be putting my valuable time and efforts into you-” 

“That was your choice,” he cut you off rudely.

Classic 

“Himejina-san informed me all about your case,” You walked towards the cabinet, situated on the far side of the room, where you stored all sorts of medicinal concoctions. Your gaze scanned the shelves, searching for the specific one you needed, after a few moments of searching, you finally found the right vial and walked back towards him. 

As you approached him, you noticed he was watching you every step of the way. You held out the vial and said, "I've created this specifically for your special case. It's designed to help mitigate any extraneous effects that may arise." 

The boy's eyes narrowed sceptically as he glanced back and forth between you and the vial. He hesitated before finally speaking up, "What if you poisoned this shit?" 

"Don't worry," you said. "It's completely safe.” 

He took the vial and inspected it closely. "Should you ever feel overwhelmed with the powers of the demons you consume, this should help ease it," you explained. "I recommend that you drink a tablespoon every half day and come back to me every week to check in on your progress." 

You took a step back from him and flashed a teasing smile. "And maybe then, you'll finally feel comfortable enough to share your name with me!" 

His face contorted into an irked expression, and he turned to walk away upon hearing your comment. As he strode down the hallway, you noticed him tuck the vial into his pocket and observed his ears turning red. 

A few days later, a group of three new demon slayers arrived at the Butterfly Mansion and were granted the privilege of staying there. You recognised each one of them from the mountain top of the final selection. Among them was the yellow-haired boy named Zenitsu, who seemed to recognise you even more. He took a considerable liking to you, constantly fawning whenever he catches sight of you. 

But what surprised everyone was the presence of a demon among them. It was unprecedented to have a demon among the ranks of the demon slayers; however, despite this, you have taken a liking in investigating the demon named Nezuko. 

Kanae-sama had a goal of eventually living in peace with demons. If Kanae-sama were here, she would have loved Nezuko, a sweet young girl who can easily be seen as a younger sister figure to almost anyone. 

“Zenitsu-san, your drool is creating a puddle on the ground,” you said as you were training. 

He sighed dreamily, “You’re so radiant, etherial, powerful-” 

You promptly resumed your training as Zenitsu's words started to sound like white noise. 

As he continued to ogle over you, another presence approached the training grounds. He stopped immediately upon seeing you training, his eyes scanning over your movements with interest. 

He watched as you effortlessly destroyed every single bamboo target with just a few swings of your Nichirin blade. Your movements were so swift and precise, as if you were dancing through the air. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy and spite as he watched you move with such ease and grace. 

He wondered how many hours of practice and dedication it must have taken to reach such a level of skill. 

He could tell that you had been a Tsuguko for quite some time, likely honing your skills through rigorous training and practice. If you continued at this pace, he couldn't help but wonder if you might become a Hashira in a matter of months. And what was even more impressive was that you would be the second youngest among the Hashira, which made your potential all the more remarkable. 

The thought of someone else reaching such a high level of skill and potential while he remained stagnant infuriated him. It stung even more because he had always wanted to impress his brother, the only person he ever truly wanted to please. But seeing your abilities, he couldn't help but feel like he would never be good enough in his brother's eyes. 

You turned around, a smirk spreading across your face as beads of sweat rolled down your serene complexion. "Oh, didn’t see you there," you said with a chuckle. "I'm glad you came back."

Zenitsu's eyes snapped to where you were now looking and he yelped, "SCARY MAN!" 

The boy turned to face Zenitsu and said, "Piss off, creep.” 

His words made Zenitsu run to where his other two companions were within the mansion. 

You headed towards the engawa, where a carafe of water was waiting for you. As you walked away, he couldn't help but survey the damage you had done to all of your targets. It was clear that you had accomplished it all without using any specific techniques, leaving him in awe. "How did you do that?" he blurted out. 

As you finished gulping the water, swiping the rouge droplets from your chin you asked, “Do what?” 

He pointed towards the targets, now reduced to mere fragments joining with the dirt on the ground. 

You let out a small laugh, "How did I do it without using any breathing technique?" You walked towards his side, "You're quite observant. How about you tell me your name and I'll teach you a thing or two?" You teased. 

"Genya Shinazugawa," he replied straight to the point. 

You grinned and said, "I meditate for an hour every morning and night." 

He looked at you with disbelief and asked, "Ya kidding, right?" He visibly deflated and continued, "Ya tellin’ me you sit on your ass and breathe for two hours a day? That's fucken ridiculous," his tone laced with disdain. 

"You'll understand one day," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice, and then pivoted on your heel. "Let's start your check-up, Genya-san." 

“Take off your shirt,” you instructed. 

Genya stuttered in surprise, “What?” 

As you reached for the stethoscope from the table drawer, you said, "I need to listen to your lungs and heart for any defects.” 

“Oh.” 

Respecting Genya's privacy, you continued facing the opposite direction as he removed his upper layers. You could hear the rustling of clothes and then the sound of them falling to the floor. Once you sensed that he had finished, you turned around to face him. 

You couldn't help but marvel at his physique. At his age, he was unbelievably ripped with muscles and scars that seemed to accentuate his sculpted form, as if he was crafted from the finest quality marble. You rubbed your eyes, pretending as if something had gotten into them and then looked at him, only to find that he was already staring back at you. 

“Please have a seat,” you gestured towards the chair beside the table. 

He complied, appearing to be more cooperative than before. You pulled a stool in front of him and noticed him tense up, every muscle in his body taut. 

You clenched your jaw, put on the earpieces, and carefully placed the stethoscope on his left pectoral, listening to the booming beat of his heart.

 "Why is your heart beating so quickly, Genya-san?" You prodded, looking up at him through your lashes. 

"Drank tea," he replied too quickly. 

As you removed the stethoscope from his pectoral and stood up, you noticed that he was staring out the window. 

"Are you nervous, Genya-san?" you asked, trying to provoke a response. 

He snapped his eyes toward you. "Fuck no," he said, his voice tense. 

You towered over him as he remained seated in the chair, observing the way his jaw clenched and unclenched and his hands balled up in fists. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly walked around to his back and brought the stethoscope above his scapula. 

“Genya-san,” you said softly. 

"What?" he said sharply. 

"Your lungs aren't expanding and contracting properly," you pointed out, a clear indication that he was holding his breath. "I'm going to need you to take some deep breaths for me."

Reluctantly, he complied and you listened carefully to his breathing. His lungs seemed to be contracting more than they should for someone at rest. 

You took a step back and removed the stethoscope, gaping at the size of his back. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to clear the improper thoughts that had crept into your mind. 

He hastily gathered the clothes lying on the floor and put them on. “Has the medicine been helpful to you in any way?” you asked. 

He responded with a grunt. 

“I need you to respond verbally, Genya-san,” you insisted. 

“Yes,” he snapped. 

"Very well," you said, making your way to the table and focusing on the array of ingredients on your shelves, trying to regain your composure. 

"You're healthy. I'll just need you to avoid drinking tea before our next check-up," you concluded. 

You heard the sound of the door sliding opening. "Please close the door on your way out," you said delicately, not turning around to face him. He did exactly that, saying nothing but walking out of the room. You swore under your breath. 

As he sped down the hallway, his mind raced and his heart pounded with a sense of urgency. 

He knew he couldn't deal with you anymore. The thought of being trapped within four walls with you made his stomach leap, a clear indication of disgust.

Your soft spoken voice, loving eyes and kind touches had a way of making him feel at ease. He couldn't help but notice how you treated everyone with kindness, even those who mistreated you. It was intoxicating and he couldn't comprehend how someone could be so selfless. 

Your angel eyes saw good in many evil, it was something that both repulsed and charmed him at the same time. He couldn't understand how you could be so forgiving and compassionate, yet he found himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

As he rushed out of the mansion, he bumped into a red-headed boy, barely registering his presence. The boy yelled something after him, but all Genya could think of was getting away from you. He needed to breathe, to clear his head, because the more he allowed himself to be drawn towards you, the more his carefully constructed plan to reach his brother began to crumble. 

He knew he couldn't afford to let himself catch feelings for you. It would only make things more complicated and could jeopardise everything he had worked so hard for. But the more he thought about you, the more he found himself unable to resist your angelic nature. 

Genya's frustration boiled over as he ran his hands through his hair, yanking on his locks in anger. "FUCK!" he shouted, lashing out and kicking a nearby rock, sending it careening into the trees. 

Today was the day of another weekly checkup. 

You were prepared, steeling yourself to remain professional and composed despite the tension that lingered between you. 

As you waited for Genya's arrival, you reviewed your notes and made sure everything was in order. Despite trying to remain composed, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. 

It was a little late, later than he had previously arrived. You tried to push the feeling aside, reminding yourself that anything could have delayed him and it was better to wait patiently. 

The sun had already set and the night stars were becoming prominent outside your window. 

"Where is he?" you muttered to yourself, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

You couldn't help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the appointment, perhaps because of his stubborn nature or his reluctance to be confined in the medical room. 

So be it, Genya. 

Despite trying to distract yourself with training, your thoughts kept wandering back to Genya. It had been several days since you last saw him, and you couldn't help but wonder where he was and what he was doing. 

But you pushed those thoughts aside and focused on your role as a mentor to Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu. You spent long hours helping them hone their skills and improve their techniques. Tanjiro, in particular, showed remarkable progress and you couldn't help but feel proud of him. 

"Tanjiro-san, you're improving at an astonishing rate!" You praised him. 

"It's all thanks to everyone here, including you," he replied with a grin. 

One of the things that made you happiest was being able to help others. You had a big heart and always went out of your way to offer assistance, even when it wasn't necessary. Seeing others improve and achieve their goals gave you a sense of fulfilment that was hard to describe. 

"You too Inosuke-san, well done!" You gave his arm a genuine squeeze, acknowledging his effort. 

Inosuke mumbled something behind his mask, but you could sense the delight in his tone. 

Zenitsu, on the other hand, couldn't help but interject. 

"But what about me,” he whined. "Am I improving too?" 

"Well, Zenitsu-san, you're definitely...trying," you said diplomatically. 

Zenitsu pouted, clearly hoping for more praise, but you knew he had a lot of work to do before he could truly become a skilled demon slayer. 

Despite his flaws, however, you couldn't help but feel a soft spot for him. You looked around the training grounds and realised you needed to get back to your research. 

"I'll leave you all to your training," with a wave goodbye, you turned and walked away while they bowed in response. 

As you strode, you heard the sound of yelling and pleading coming from inside the mansion.

Your curiosity piqued, you quickened your pace and soon noticed droplets of blood on the hardwood floor. Your hand instinctively reached for the hilt of your sword. 

Running, you followed the trails of blood and desperate cries, your heart racing with fear and anticipation. Finally, you skidded to a stop, frozen at the sight before you. 

Genya had always been aware of the risks that came with being a demon slayer. But this particular demon had been stronger than he had anticipated and had managed to inflict injuries that were more severe than he was used to.

Genya relied on consuming the flesh of other demons to heal his own wounds, but this time he had not been successful in consuming a single thing from the demon. This lack of regeneration made the wounds even more excruciating and difficult to deal with. 

Despite the pain, his first thought was to find you, the medical expert who could treat his injuries. He knew that he needed your help to heal and get back on his feet. With that in mind, he had managed to make his way to the mansion, gritting his teeth through the pain as he focused on reaching you. 

Naho, Kiyo, and Sumi trembled in fear as Genya strode through the gates of the Butterfly Mansion, paying no heed to his open wounds. 

He was stubborn to reach you. He trusted only you to treat him or even touch him. 

Blood dripped from his wounds, leaving a trail on the floorboards of the mansion as he made his way towards your office. He ignored the cries of the three girls, driven solely by the hunger to reach you. 

“You’re dripping blood on the floor, please stop!” Naho begged. 

“Let us help you, Genya-sama, it will only get worse!” Kiyo added. 

“Shut up,” he snarled. He didn't mean to sound so hostile, but he needed to reach you without distractions. 

The sound of the girls’ screams echoed in Genya’s ears as he shoved his way towards your office, ignoring the pain that shot through his body with every step. 

His hand left bloody smears on the door as he pushed it open, desperate to find you. But when he stumbled into the room, he found it empty. 

His vision was blurry, and he was seeing spots, the pain almost unbearable. He staggered backwards, using the wall to steady himself as he tried to call out for you. 

Suddenly, he heard the skid of someone stopping behind the three girls who were still screaming in terror. He turned his head, his eyes fixing on you as you stood there with your hand on the hilt of your sword. 

You were frozen in place, clearly shocked by the bloody and battered figure of him. 

“Genya Shinazugawa!” You gasped in shock, your hand instinctively flying to cover your mouth. 

You gently moved Sumi out of the way to reach him. As you got closer, you saw the bloody handprints on the door and the exhaustion on Genya's face. Your heart sank at the sight of his injuries. 

“Please prepare the first aid materials in the infirmary,” you commanded the three girls, they ran quickly. 

"Genya, what happened?" You asked, your voice trembling with concern as you took a closer look at him. 

“Demon,” he said softly. “In a lotta pain,” he added. 

You nodded, your mind already racing with what needed to be done. "Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said. 

You gently took Genya's hand and led him towards the infirmary, careful not to aggravate his wounds. Despite the excruciating pain he must have been experiencing, he stiffened at the sudden contact. You noticed this and quickly dropped your hand, apologising, "Sorry, I should have asked." 

Genya grabbed your hand and held it tightly. "No," he said, "I liked it." 

Your eyes widened at his bold statement, and a blush crept onto your face. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you led him into the infirmary.

After a few hours of tending to Genya's wounds, he finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a deep slumber. 

You sat by his bedside, watching over him as he slept. As you gazed at him, you noticed how peaceful he looked, with his breathing slow and steady. 

With your heightened senses, you slowly turned to catch a glimpse of a white-haired man standing silently by the door. 

He lifted his index finger to his lips, signalling for you to stay quiet. 

You nodded in understanding, still surprised by his unexpected arrival. 

He sat himself softly on Genya's bed and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. Your eyes widened as you pieced together the resemblance between the two of them. 

Sanemi Shinazugawa left a kiss on his brother's forehead. 

After Sanemi finished looking at his brother, satisfied with the amount of care given to him, he walked towards you and whispered in your ear, “Thank you.” He then walked out of the room. 

The next morning, you decided to bring breakfast to Genya, wanting to compensate for his sore body with a meal served in bed. As you entered the room, you found him sitting up and staring out of the window, watching the lush trees dance in the fresh air. 

"Good morning," you greeted him with a beautiful smile, holding a tray of food in your hands. 

"Mornin’," he grumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep. 

You couldn't help but feel a little flustered at the sound of his voice. 

"I brought you some food," you said, making your way to him. "May I sit?" you gestured towards the bed. 

"Feel free," he replied softly. 

You sat down next to him and placed the food on his lap, pouring a glass of water from his side table. Genya was about to grab a spoonful of food for himself, but you gave him a warning glance. 

"What?" he looked confused. 

You took the spoon from his fingers and guided it to his mouth, feeding him yourself. 

His face turned bright red as he promptly covered it with his large hand, grabbing your wrist. "I can feed myself," he whispered. 

"I know," you replied with a teasing smile. "But I can't help enjoy seeing you blush.” 

He stared at you intently, as if searching for something in your eyes. 

“You need to eat, Genya-san,” you reminded him. 

He opened his mouth and you brought the spoonful of food towards him. He gratefully accepted it and sighed in satisfaction after swallowing it. Then, you brought the glass of water to his cracked lips. 

Water escaped from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. You quickly wiped it away with your thumb, but as soon as your skin made contact with his, you felt a jolt run through you. You looked up at him and noticed that his eyes had clouded over and his ears were red. 

"I'M SO JEALOUS!" Zenitsu exclaimed loudly. 

"Shut up!" Inosuke swatted Zenitsu’s head. 

Genya turned his attention to the door, where Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Tanjiro were peeking in. 

"Get. The. Fuck. Out!" Genya bellowed, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Nezuko-chan," you said while sitting on the engawa, gently smoothing out her hair. She was lying on your lap as the two of you basked in the moonlight. 

She let out an enthusiastic hum, and her small hands reached up to grasp yours, nuzzling her cheek against your palm. 

The gesture made your heart swell with warmth, and you couldn't help but think that this is how Kanae-sama must have felt when you were younger. 

You chuckled softly as you noticed Genya’s attempting to spy on the two of you from the hallways of the mansion. "Ganya-san thinks I can't see him spying on us," you said with amusement. 

He made his presence even more obvious by speaking up, "Ya know you got a demon on your lap, right?" he said. 

"I am most aware," you smiled at him. 

The moonlight highlighted your features even more, making you look ethereal. 

"Why do you smile," he asked, his curiosity piqued. "When you feel so angry all the time?" 

His sudden analysis caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but feel a little surprised. 

Nezuko gazed up at you, her eyes full of curiosity and admiration. You couldn't help but think of Kanae-sama and how she used to play with your hair in the same way you were now with Nezuko. 

Genya's words had stirred up memories of Kanae-sama and the pain of her loss came flooding back. Your throat started to tighten, and tears welled up in your eyes. "Fuck," Genya was taken aback by your sudden change in attitude.

Nezuko's sudden embrace took you by surprise. You cried hard on her shoulder, the memories of Kanae-sama and the pain of losing her flooded back to you. Your tears wet her kimono, but she didn't seem to mind. It was as if she understood your pain, despite being a demon. 

Genya watched with a mixture of confusion and concern. He had never seen this side of you before, and it made him realise how little he knew about you. He always saw you as the kind-hearted person with a beautiful smile on your face, always ready to help anyone in need. 

It was difficult for him to see you in so much pain, and he didn't know how to comfort you. 

He hesitantly placed a hand on your head, and you made a muffled sound of surprise from the sudden touch. You turned around and looked at him through your wet lashes, tears still running down your cheeks. 

“I got you,” he said, looking you in the eyes and giving you soft smile. 

He sat down next to you, allowing his shoulder to touch yours. You felt a flutter in your chest at the contact and didn't dare move, afraid the moment might end. 

You looked down to check on Nezuko, she had fallen asleep in your embrace.

Genya's took your hand in his, it was so warm in yours as he ran his thumb along your knuckles. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of being close to him as you both gazed up at the night sky. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Genya shifted slightly, looking down at you. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "So beautiful."

Two months had passed since Genya started his frequent check-ups, and your relationship had blossomed into something beautiful. You found comfort and joy in each other's company, and Genya seemed to have found a sense of purpose being around you. 

On this particular day, the two of you were sitting on the engawa, overlooking the stunning garden of the butterfly mansion. The fragrant scent of flowers wafted through the air, and the gentle rustling of leaves added to the serene atmosphere. 

You had previously mentioned to Genya that you would meditate for two hours a day, and he had expressed interest in joining you. 

Sitting in silence, Genya found it increasingly difficult to stay still. His legs were losing feeling, his nose was itching, and he was just so close yet so far from you. It was pissing him off that he couldn't hold your hand, kiss your forehead, or have you play with his hair. 

As he tried to resist the urge to sneeze, Genya's nose continued to twitch uncontrollably. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable sitting in silence next to you, struggling to maintain stillness during meditation. He wanted nothing more than to hold your hand, feel the warmth of your touch, or have you play with his hair. But he knew that any movement on his part would break the stillness of the moment. 

Despite his discomfort, he refused to touch his nose. He had noticed that you had an amazing sense of spatial awareness, and he didn't want to risk breaking the peaceful atmosphere with even the slightest movement. So, he tried to hold on as long as possible, hoping the sneeze would subside on its own. 

It did not, it only got worst. 

He slowly opened one eye, feeling a bit apprehensive about disturbing your meditation, but then he couldn't resist the urge to steal a glance at you. However, he quickly regretted it when he realised that you were already staring back at him, a small smile on your face. 

"Have you been starin’ at me all this fucken time?" he snarled. 

"Yep," you chirped. 

"You little-" Genya was about to say something but you jumped up, giggling, and ran towards the garden. 

As you both tumbled to the grass, laughter filled the air. You could feel the soft blades of grass tickling your skin as Genya playfully pinned you down, his weight making it impossible for you to move. You looked up at him, his chest heaving from the chase, his eyes burning with mischief. 

You playfully pouted, pretending to be upset that Genya had caught you, but your smile gave you away. 

Genya couldn't help but notice the pout on your lips, and his eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes and mouth. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should make a move, but before he could do anything, you took the initiative. 

You pulled him towards you and pressed your lips against his. 

He was frozen at first, hands grabbing chunks of grass in an attempt to restrict himself, but he couldn't resist your allure. You whispered his name, which undid him, and he responded by deepening the kiss. 

As the kiss broke, both of you were left breathless. Genya looked into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with emotion. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, while he pulled you onto his lap. 

For a few moments, both of you remained entranced in each other's presence, the world around you fading away as your hearts beat as one. 

[natsarrownecklacx]

Cruelty Is An Art Form

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count- 1,920

Summary- Your the daughter of one of New York’s most known Mob leaders. Unfortunately, you’ve caught the attention of New York’s most feared Mob leader, Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings- Minors this fic isn’t for you, Allusion to murder, Dark Mob Natasha, Thigh riding, marking, allusion to non con.

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

There is no evil known to mankind worse than Natasha Romanoff. Of this, you are almost certain. 

Sure there are other terrible things that plague the world like famine, natural disasters and horrific diseases, but the difference between Natasha and all of those things is that, when it comes to how they affect people, it isn’t their fault. All of those things are more or less out of our control, and the way they impact people, out of their control. 

Natasha however, is practiced with her cruelty. Each and every ounce of pain and suffering she inflicts is calculated and purposefully. She takes a pride in it that could only be measured to that of a parent towards their child or an artist towards their art.

Usually when a person contains this type of passion for cruelty it would be contained to the unfortunate few people who find themselves in the presence of the evil being who cultivates it. For example serial killers or people with an affinity for torture and their victims.

Sadly this isn’t the case with Natasha Romanoff, who has enough power and influence that her cruelty spans over hundreds if not thousands of people, even if they do not realize it. As the leader of one of the most powerful and dangerous gangs in New York City, Natasha’s control spans just over triple the city's population. 

She is known throughout the underworld of gang leaders as the “black widow”, the name being given to her in recognition of the countless bodies she has left up and down the coast of many cities across the globe. 

No one would dare mess with her, in any way, unless they had a death wish. Even then, unless that person wanted to die in the most slow and torturous ways even the darkest minds could not conceive, they would stay far, far away from her. 

Which is something you’ve, thankfully, managed to do for all twenty years of your life, despite your fathers standing as a rival gang leader in New York. One that, for the past few months, Natasha has been taking territory from.

To Natasha anyone other than herself and the few people of her inner circle are merely ants ready to be squashed under her boot at a moments notice, even purely for her own twisted entertainment. So she did not know, nor did she care, who’s territory she was taking over, nor did she fear any backlash from the unknown ant.

Your father let her behavior slide, for the sake of peace and to avoid the possibility of innocent civilians getting harmed in the crossfire if he were to start a war between his own gang and the widows. 

He has warned you to stay far away from her, away from any territory she deemed her own, in fear that she may recognise you and harm you for the sake of sending a message to not only him but the other leaders in the city. 

So you did as he asked and stayed away, not wanting to cause any problems for your father or anyone else. But how were you to know that while you were on a night out with your friends that the redhead would choose the exact bar you occupied and claim it as her own, killing the previous owner where he sat in his office before strolling her way up to the bar to order herself a glass of vodka.

Natasha sits at the bar, glass in hand as she lazily surveys the room, looking for someone to sate her need for the night, getting her use out of the unwitting victim before killing them.

As she moves her gaze around the room her eyes land on you, a pretty girl on the dance floor moving her hips along to the music in a way that catches Natasha’s attention and stops her mid way raising her glass to her mouth. 

She watches you for a few moments, her darkening eyes drinking in every sway and move of your body as you lose yourself to the music and atmosphere around you, dangerously unaware of the predator approaching. 

Natasha is unaware of who you are and in all honesty, she doesn’t care, her plan for you remains the same. Act like the sweet gentle woman she never will be, convince you to accompany her back to her mansion, use you like a toy until the sun comes up and then discard you like the broken used thing you will be once she's finished with you. 

Natasha approaches you, reaching a hand out to your waist, moving her body against yours to the beat of the music. She treads lightly, not wanting to scare you off before she can get you at least into her car. The idea of making a public scene tonight just seems like an annoying headache for the redhead.

Feeling a feminine body slid in behind you mould to your own does not bother you, even as her hands slid sensually around your waist, pulling you flush against her. You relish in the attention from the unknown woman. 

Natasha drags her lips against the pulse point of your neck causing you to tilt your head back, needing to give her more room. She suctions her lips to your neck, intent on leaving a mark and branding you as hers. Her toy for the night, her slut made to proudly wear her marks. 

You can’t help the moan that quietly spills from your lips at the action, leaning your head back against her shoulder and moving your left hand up to grip the hair on the back of her neck, holding her in place while she leaves her marks on your skin. 

Natasha slides her arms fully around your waist, tightening her hold on you and locking you in place as she slots her thigh between your legs. Your breath catches in your throat at the action and a whimper follows soon after when the mystery woman whispers “Move your hips, baby” in your ear hotly. 

You do as she says, moving your hips slowly up and down her suit clad thigh. Her warm mouth continues its attack on the delicate skin of your neck, nipping and biting every so often to ensure her marks are clear. 

The whole interaction makes you want to melt against her, melt into her, succumb to the pleasure the woman is bringing you. That is, until she tenses the muscles in her leg, the hard muscle hitting your clit just right in a way that has you moaning out “fuck” and tightening your hold on the redheads hair to the point that you cause her pain. 

Natasha bites down hard on your neck in retaliation, the force of her teeth strong enough to nearly draw blood. 

You gasp and quickly jerk your body away from her. Natasha loosens her hold, allowing you to turn and face her but still keeps you in her grasp. You spin around quickly, determined to tell her off for such a violent act. 

Your breath is stolen from your lungs the second your eyes land on the woman your father spent countless day’s warning you away from. 

Your eyes fill with fear, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead, and you try to take a step back. 

Natasha only tightens her grip on your waist, a smirk falling against her lips while confusion flickers behind her eyes. She can see from the look on your face that you know who she is, what she is capable of, yet she doesn’t know how. Word of the infamous black widow isn’t exactly common knowledge with the civilians in the city. 

“You know me.” Natasha muses, tilting her head to the side slightly, her eyes lighting up when she feels you try to step away from her again. “And you're afraid.” She says, the smirk on her face nearly doubling in size, as she takes a step toward you. 

Your eyes move frantically around the room, desperately looking for the men your father sent with you everywhere. Your body guards, as you call them, or your “protection detail” as they like to call themselves. 

Natasha’s hold on your waist tightens again, pulling you flush with her front and ignoring your attempts to squirm away. Your attention turns back to her and you have to gulp down your fear at the sight of the look in her eyes. It truly feels to you as though she is a starved, deranged predator and you are her prey. 

Natasha takes a moment to look you over, appraising you, while you squirm under her heavy stare, your eyes move away from her, unable to continue looking at her with the intensity of the moment.

“You're a pretty little thing aren’t you.” Natasha muses, gripping your jaw in her rough, calloused fingers and forcing you to look at her. Using her hold on your face she pulls you closer to her, until you are just a breath away. 

Your mind tells you to slap her, to spit in her face, kick her between the legs and run as fast as your feet can carry you. Your survival instincts tell you otherwise, screaming at you that if you want to survive then you have to keep her as calm as possible until your fathers men realize where you are.

So you stand as still as you can, your hands making fists at your sides in an attempt to keep them from shaking. Natasha’s eyes glance down to your clenched fists, a smile sliding its way onto her face before her eyes move back to your face.

She moves her mouth next to your ear, her warm breath hitting your skin while she whispers to you. “Let me tell you a secret little dove.” You feel her lips smile against your skin, trailing a short path up and down the skin of your cheek before she speaks again. “I like it when pretty girls like you are afraid. The look you all get in your eyes when your afraid for your life…” 

Natasha moves her hands to rest on the small of your back, moving your body in one swift jerk so that your thigh rests between her legs. She doesn’t waste a second before grinding down on the plush skin of your thigh, a grown falling from her lips at sensation. “... it gets me so, so wet, angel.” 

Natasha feels more than hears the gasp that leaves your mouth, feels the air hit her face as she pulls back to look at you again. That annoying smirk is back on her face, her eyes dark with lust and need. You jerk your leg from between hers, narrowing your eyes at the fake pout she wears at the action.

Natasha tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, her eyes never leaving your face as she whistles a tune you’d never heard before. Within the blink of an eye nearly fifty bodies hit the floor, each of them going down silently, without so much as a scream, as though someone had simply powered them off.

You look around in shock and horror, your mind running through how she could have done something like that and if you’d be next. 

“Don’t worry, angel.” Natasha coos, her voice a poor imitation of someone attempting to be soothing. “I won���t kill you.” She smiles, bringing her hands up to cup your face.

“You're of no use to me dead.”

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

A/n- Currently obsessed with dark mob boss Nat, let me know what you think so far, part two will be out this day next week

Part Two

[workersolidarity]

[ 📸 A child named Jana Ayyad, who was displaced into Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, suffers from extremely poor health caused by malnutrition resulting from the continued closure of the southern border crossings. In a report published by the UN-affiliated agency that classifies famines, northern Gaza has been determined to not yet to be in famine, a result of an unexpected increase in aid, while Gaza on the whole remains on the brink of famine and catastrophe. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

WAR IN GAZA, DAY 263: DESTRUCTION OF INFRASTRUCTURE PRESENTS DANGERS TO CIVILIANS IN GAZA, ISRAELI OCCUPATION TO DRAFT ULTRA-ORTHODOX JEWS FOR MILITARY SERVICE, "INTENSE" PHASE OF GAZA WAR TO END, BOMBING RAIDS CONTINUE AS MASS MURDER OF PALESTINIANS GOES ON ANOTHER DAY

On 263rd day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 32 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 139 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

Following weeks of Israeli ground incursions into the northern Gaza Strip, as well as Rafah to the south, large portions of Gaza's Palestinian population have been displaced into central Gaza, into cities such as Deir al-Balah, the Al-Mawasi area, and the Bureij Camp.

Following their displacement, the Israeli occupation army began heavily bombing the local public infrastructure, leaving central Gaza, in particular targeting public infrastructure, including wells and sewage lines, spilling sewage while trash collection has ceased. All of this directly nearby areas where tens of thousands of Palestinian families are forced to reside in tent cities.

Speaking with the local media, resident Umm al-Abd Baalousha and her family live in a small tent erected near the sea water desalinization plant in Deir al-Balah, in central Gaza, an area where previous Israeli bombing has led sewage to overflow into the streets where piles of garbage grow ever larger as basic services are now impossible due to the ongoing genocidal war.

Baalousha told the local media she is a refugee from the Jabalia Camp, in Gaza's north, where the Israeli occupation forces recently launched a deadly invasion, destroying or damaging nearly every building and forcing her family to seek shelter in Rafah.

Soon after, they were displaced again by the Israeli invasion into Rafah beginning several weeks ago. The family was forced to seek shelter once again, now a refugee living in a tent in Deir al-Balah, in central Gaza.

“We did not find another place to flee to from the city of Rafah in the far south, with the occupation beginning its ground military operation, other than this area (in Deir al-Balah), which is characterized by its proximity to the water desalination plant, but the disaster began to unfold with the overflow of sewage," Baalousha told the local media.

"Children in the area cannot move easily, unless accompanied by an adult, due to the high level of wastewater in the place and the matter not being addressed by the responsible authorities," she added.

The same can be said for countless other residents of Gaza, many of whom have been forced into unsafe, or sometimes outright dangerous living conditions, surrounded by garbage, sewage, sickness and death, often being starved.

According to a report published today, June 25th, by the UN-affiliated IPC Global Famine Review Committee, although the amount of food going into the northern Gaza Strip has increased, the food situation in the Palestinian enclave is "catastrophic", while there remains a "high and sustained risk of Famine across the whole Gaza Strip."

"The prolonged nature of the crises means that this risk remains at least as high as at any time during the past few months," the report says.

"The FRC encourages all stakeholders who use the IPC for high-level decision-making to understand that whether a Famine classification is confirmed or not does not in any manner change the fact that extreme human suffering is without a doubt currently ongoing in the Gaza Strip, and does not change the immediate humanitarian imperative to address this civilian suffering by enabling complete, safe, unhindered, and sustained humanitarian access into and throughout the Gaza Strip, including through ceasing hostilities. All actors should not wait until a Famine classification is made to act accordingly," the report concluded.

In more news, the Israeli entity's High Court of Justice has ruled today the occupation army must draft Ultra-Orthodox men into the Israeli military.

According to the Occupation media, due to there no longer being a legal framework for the exclusion of Haredi men from the Israeli draft, the Israeli High Court has ordered the military to begin drafting the Ultra-Orthodox immediately.

Though the High Court did not determine a rate at which they must be drafted, it instead told the government it could draft Yeshiva students gradually or quickly, but that it must begin actively working to conscript the Ultra-Orthodox.

The Court ruling concluded that a June, 2023 government order instructing the army not to begin drafting Ultra-Orthodox men was illegal because the law exempting them from conscription had expired and was not renewed by the Israeli Knesset.

The Israeli media states that some 63'000 exemptions for Ultra-Orthodox men were reported by the Court's documentation.

The Israeli High Court writes that, “In these days, in the midst of a severe war, the burden of inequality is more acute than ever — and requires the promotion of a sustainable solution to this issue.”

“Non-enforcement of the provisions of the Security Service Law creates severe discrimination between those who are required to serve," the Court is quoted as saying.

Meanwhile, Israeli occupation Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, gave interview with the Hebrew media in which he said that the "period of intense fighting in Gaza is about to end," adding that "This does not mean that the war is about to end, but rather its intense phase is about to end."

Trending news analysis of Netanyahu's recent comments suggest that, with the risk of Netanyahu's position crumbling if the war comes to an end.

Analysis suggests that at the conclusion of the Rafah operation, the bulk of the Israeli occupation's military violence is likely to shift north towards Hezbollah in southern Lebanon, just rinse the Gaza operation and repeat south of Lebanon.

In the meantime, in the Gaza Strip, the slaughter continued, albeit at a slower pace in recent days as the Zionist entity begins refocusing its attention north. Still, dozens of civilians were killed and more than one hundred wounded over the last 24-hours.

In the early morning hours of Tuesday, an Israeli warplane bombed a gathering of civilians on Al-Wahda Street near Al-Shifa Hospital, west of Gaza City, killing five Palestinian civilians, including two children, and resulting in a number of others wounded to varying degrees. The wounded were taken to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in the city.

Soon after, the Israeli occupation forces bombed two UNRWA shelter schools in a series of raids that killed 16 civilians, with most of the victims being women and children.

The Israeli bombardment targeted several areas of Khan Yunis, in Gaza's south, along with the Al-Maghazi and Al-Shati Refugee Camps in the central and northern Gaza Strip, respectively.

According to Palestinian sources, the Zionist army bombed two UNRWA shelter schools housing displaced families in the Al-Shati Camp and in the Al-Daraj neighborhood of Gaza city.

The Civil Defense reported the recovery of five Palestinians who were killed, including children, and several others wounded as a result of the bombing of the "Asmaa" School housing displaced civilians in the Al-Shati Camp, west of Gaza City.

Similarly, local Civil Defense crews said they'd recovered the bodies 6 Palestinians as a result of the occupation army's bombing of the Abdel Fattah Hamoud School,in the Jaffa area of central Gaza City.

In further raids, occupation fighter jets bombarded a home belonging to the Al-Zamili family in the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City.

Meanwhile, the systematic destruction of neighborhoods such as the Saudi and Tal al-Sultan neighborhoods, west of the city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, continued as well. With near constant bombings, artillery shelling and tank fire being reported, as well as the death of a man who was killed as a result of Israeli bombing in the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood.

As Tuesday went on, the Zionist entity renewed its attacks, and further bombed into the night.

At midnight, Israeli warplanes bombed a house in the city of Beit Lahiya, north of Gaza, killing at least 3 Palestinians, and wounding a dozen others, while the Zionist army also bombed several homes in Gaza City and Rafah.

The Israeli occupation forces bombed several homes in southwestern Gaza City, including the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, in northern Gaza, while in Gaza's south, the Israeli occupation bombed the Saudi neighborhood, west of Rafah.

Further Israeli airstrikes and artillery shelling hammered neighborhoods northeast of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, while airstrikes also hit the Nuseirat Camp in central Gaza.

As a result of the Zionist entity's ongoing war of extermination against the Palestinian population of the Gaza Strip, the current death toll now exceeds 37'658 killed, including over 15'000 children and at least 10'000 women, while another 86'237 others have been wounded since October 7th, 2023.

June 25th, 2024.

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#photosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[towerofdoubt]

“The VALIANT WARRIOR SQUADRON is a serialized collection of short stories following an American soldier named Joseph Baker, in an alternate earth, year 2040. After developing psychic powers from a bio-terrorist weapons misfire, Joseph is inducted into VWS-1 special forces to fight a neo-nazi organization that has caused death and suffering for countless people, including Joseph himself. Not only fighting for right over wrong, and for personal revenge, Joseph fights to preserve a fleeting sense of normalcy in an increasingly tumultuous and unsure world. The Valiant Warrior Squadron explores the importance of putting aside personal differences to create a united front against fascism, while also taking inspiration from anime and video games such as the works of Hideo Kojima and Koichi Ohata. If you are looking for an adult-geared story about war and fascism with a diverse cast of heroes (including multiple large, bulky monster women!) The Valiant Warrior Squadron might be for you!

The thrilling and dire adventure is available to read HERE for FREE on TUMBLR and WORDPRESS!

[fandoms-x-reader]

Replay - Good Ending

Requested By: @f4gg0t-4-0b3y-m3

Part 1 - Part 2

Summary: No matter how hard you try to save your friends, death is unavoidable and they all meet their end. The Seven Demon Brothers + Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon & Solomon Featuring Luke, Raphael, Mephisto & Thirteen Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 6,671

You weren’t sure exactly how many days had passed since that party where everyone found out the truth about you and the things you had experienced.

It was hard to keep track of time when you were doing the same thing day in and day out. 

Everyone had been spending countless hours trying to formulate a plan to survive - to “cheat death”.

You wouldn’t have believed such a thing was possible if it weren't for the fact that your friends were all either angels or demons.

And the one that wasn’t either of those was an immortal sorcerer. 

You were their motivation to keep going. 

You had only opened up a little bit about the things you had seen.

It hurt you to talk about it. It hurt to recall all of the images of the ones you loved dying in front of you.

They were each curious in their own way about what had happened and how they died. 

But none of them were curious enough to ask you and cause the pain of remembering just to satisfy their interests.

They never wanted you to have to lose them again.

They could see the mental, emotional, and physical toll this whole situation had taken on you. 

They could see how exhausted you were.

You needed to escape from this turmoil for your own health. And they would each do their part in making sure it happened.

Besides the effects that their deaths had on you, they also had their own selfish reason for not wanting the timeline to restart once again - they didn’t want to forget you.

They couldn’t imagine it. They didn’t want to imagine it.

You meant so much to them. You had changed them all for the better. You had made so many memories with them.

They didn’t want to forget those memories and relive them. 

They wanted to keep the ones they had and cherish them.

And those reasons were what stirred them all on.

Maybe it was the memories that they held onto that increased their endurance.

Or maybe it was their love for you that pushed them to fight even harder.

Whatever it was - it worked.

It was a hard battle.

It was a long and gruesome fight and no one came out unscathed. But, it was over.

All the pain and suffering that you had been relentlessly going through to try and find a way to save your friends was finished.

The horror movie that you had been trapped in had finally concluded.

And you couldn’t help but feel emotional as relief washed over you.

You felt a huge pressure taken off of you as you felt like for the first time in a very long time, you could relax. 

The Devildom wasn’t in peril. Your friends weren’t in danger.

You made it.

Now, all there was left to do was tend to the wounds they had acquired during the fight.

Lucifer was the strongest for the reason.

There hadn’t been a time in his life when Lucifer didn’t feel the need to protect his family. 

Even in the Celestial Realm, he always made sure to look out for his younger siblings, ensuring their safety at every turn and doing what he could to guide them in the right direction.

So when you told Lucifer that everyone died, he nearly lost control.

The image of losing his siblings he always fought so hard to protect nearly broke him.

And if they had died multiple times that meant that he failed multiple times.

He refused to fail you or anyone else again.

Despite how well he presented himself, Lucifer was a demon just like the others. And when he was angry, he tended to lose control. 

So when the fight first started and he saw the first of his brothers get wounded, his initial reaction was to lash out and attempt to kill everything in sight.

But you were there with him and begged him to keep a level head. 

In your past experiences, being hot-headed is what always led to his demise.

Normally Lucifer was too prideful to listen to others when it came to fighting. He would control the situation and do as he pleased.

But he had seen the pain and desperation in your eyes, and it sparked something inside of him. 

He did as you asked. His attacks were calculated instead of rushed and it’s what kept him alive. 

You were gently cleaning a cut on Lucifer’s forehead, taking special care in every movement you made to make sure you didn’t aggravate his injury any further.

Lucifer took in your scent, secretly admitting to himself that you were the only one he would allow to be this close to him.

He had been relieved when no one had perished in the fight, but he could only imagine what you must be feeling like.

He studied your features a bit more and saw the deep bags under your eyes from your restless nights and the way you were standing told him that your muscles ached from the constant work you put them under.

You finished tending to the gash on his forehead and Lucifer immediately picked you up bridal style, lying you down in his bed.

It was his turn to take care of you now.

He could feel a few tears run down your cheeks as he held you close to him and he knew that they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of relief.

He gently ran his fingers through your hair before telling you, “You can rest now, darling. It’s over.”

Lucifer was the one who protected his family and he was going to make sure he protected you from ever feeling pain like this again.

There was a comfortable silence between you and Mammon as you gently wrapped a bandage around his wrist.

Mammon looked at you with so much adoration as he watched your features. 

You were concentrating so hard, trying to make sure the bandage wasn’t too tight or too loose.

The scene brought back fond memories for him of when he wrapped your wrist.

It was right after the TSL battle between you and Levi. Levi had lost control and attacked.

Mammon tried to save you but Lucifer had gotten to you first and got the situation under control, ensuring that you wouldn’t be harmed.

Only for you to fall and injure your wrist anyway.

Mammon remembered being so jealous when Lucifer was the one who saved you. He recalled the words he said to you that day as clearly as if he had said them yesterday.

“Listen. The next time your life’s in danger, I’m gonna be the one to save you, all right? Don’t you forget that. And if I can’t manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it?! I don’t want no one else steppin’ in and savin’ you, all right?! It’s me or no one, understand?”

He wanted to laugh at how stupid he sounded back then - saying how he wanted to be the only one you depended on one second and then calling you a dumb human that he could care less about the next.

But you always saw through his tsundere act and you never pushed him away because of it.

And the words he had spoken that day still held some truth. He wanted to be the one to save you. He was the one who saved you. And he had made sure to survive just for you.

You had finished wrapping his hand and Mammon took his eyes off of you for a moment to inspect your work. It was a job well done.

Mammon opened his mouth to tell you as much but stopped in his tracks when he saw a tear starting to fall down your cheek.

Mammon panicked slightly as he pulled you down onto the bed next to him, gently cupping your cheek with his good hand.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mammon asked, desperately searching your eyes for an answer to what was upsetting you.

You leaned into his touch as you looked into his cobalt eyes. 

“I’m just glad I didn’t lose you again,” you admitted and a deep blush coated Mammon’s cheeks.

The night that you spent together after the party, you had promised him that he wouldn’t lose you.

But it never occurred to him that he didn’t make the same promise. And he could see how worried you were about it. 

Mammon dared himself to lean forward, placing his lips on yours in a gentle kiss.

He was so thankful when you immediately leaned into the kiss, proving that it was something you had both been equally craving.

“You’ll never have to lose me again,” Mammon promised you, barely above a whisper.

He knew that the future was uncertain. He knew that something bad could happen at any given moment.

But, the fact was that he had found the love of his life. And he wouldn’t allow anything to separate the two of you again.

Levi had put on a brave face for you.

He didn’t want you to see how much he was freaking out internally at the thought of losing everyone he cared about. At losing you. At possibly losing his own life.

For once he wanted to be the main character.

He wanted to be the hero who saved the day instead of the sidekick who merely provided motivation and help when necessary.

And heroes didn’t have mental breakdowns in front of their love interests.

But on the inside, Levi was dying. 

He spent so much time worrying about his insecurities and speaking to himself in a derogatory way.

And he was scared now more than ever that he wouldn’t be enough.

Levi was a General in the Celestial Realm but when peace had been established and he was no longer needed, he became an introvert.

When he fell, he earned a new title - The Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, but he never had the opportunity to use it in any capacity.

Typically the only thing that name gave him was control over Lotan.

But after promising you he would not only survive but help everyone else survive as well, Levi had to remember what being a general meant.

You gave him all the courage he needed to prove why he was the third most powerful among his brothers. 

He fought dauntlessly and took out a large number of enemies and you had never been so proud of the quiet otaku.

He was nervous to look at the wounds he received during battle, a bit anxious about the way they would look.

But luckily, you had offered to tend to them for him.

Levi was flustered the entire time, not used to you being this close to him, and he did his best to control his nerves while your hands brushed over different spots of his body.

“You were like a knight in shining armor out there, Levi,” you complimented him as if he needed another reason to blush.

“Do you know what the hero always gets as a reward for saving the day?” you questioned with a small smile.

Levi’s eyebrows knitted together for a moment, trying to find the answer to your question.

When the realization dawned on him, his cheeks were hot and bright red.

You let out a small chuckle at his reaction before moving closer and pressing your lips to his. 

“Thank you for being my savior - and my player two,” you told him honestly, before wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug.

He was definitely going to play the hero role more often.

Satan wasn’t generally an optimist. He was a realist.

He analyzed the details of the situation and predicted the proper outcome that was expected to happen.

He was straightforward with his words, seeing no point in sugarcoating the truth or speaking lies to make someone feel better.

But that all changed for him when the two of you were together after he had found out about his death.

He knew that given the fact that you hadn’t been able to prevent the inevitable from happening before, that it would most likely happen again. 

And if the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, then - by definition - you were insane.

But that insanity is what kept bringing you back to him. That insanity is what gave him the opportunity to know and fall in love with you over and over again.

So, if being insane meant that the two of you got to be together, then he wanted to be insane with you.

And when he held you his his arms that night, he couldn’t help but betray his beliefs and tell you what you wanted to hear.

He promised you that your story wasn’t going to end this time - that he would find a way to make sure that it continued.

He knew there was no proof that he could keep that promise. He knew that the odds were incredibly low.

But he would say them to you repeatedly if only to provide you a little bit of comfort.

He wanted to keep that promise to you, but his expectations were low.

He fought with everything he had, but he still felt like his efforts wouldn’t pay off in the end.

He believed he would suffer the same fate that you had told him about.

So when the final enemy dropped and he found himself still alive, he was as surprised as you were. He was as relieved as you were. 

And now here you were, standing in front of him and gently tending to a wound he had received on his shoulder.

You were close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from your body and he was itching to pull you into his lap once more.

He had tried to do so almost immediately after the two of you reached his room, but you playfully scolded him for it.

He knew that his wound needed to be treated, but it was the furthest thing from his mind. 

It was at the forefront of yours though and you made sure to thoroughly clean it and cover it to ensure that it wouldn’t get infected.

You weren’t even sure if demons got infections the same way that humans did, but you weren’t taking any chances.

The moment you were finished placing the bandage on his shoulder, Satan’s arms were around you, pulling you on top of him and holding you close.

You let out a small chuckle as you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck. Your arm wrapped around the opposite side of his neck, hugging him back just as tightly.

You stayed like that for a moment before leaning slightly away and pressing a small kiss to his injured shoulder.

The action brought a blush to Satan’s cheeks but left him wanting more.

And so he gently titled your chin up and placed his lips on yours, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek as he savored every moment of the kiss.

He was ready to continue your love story and he couldn’t wait for the next chapter.

Asmo hated getting his hands dirty. 

He hated the idea of possibly chipping a nail or bruising his delicate skin.

When he was up in the Celestial Realm, his natural beauty is what earned him the nickname of the “Jewel of the Heavens”.

It was a title he wore with pride, knowing that everyone admired him even though he didn’t do much.

Up there he wasn’t afraid of fighting alongside his brothers because he felt like he would be beautiful no matter what.

That all changed when he fell from grace and became the Avatar of Lust.

Losing the angel part of him made him feel like he wasn’t as attractive and given the sin he had been designated to represent, that was unacceptable.

He heavily researched all of the best skin and hair products to use to amplify his beauty. He had a reputation to uphold.

And because he put so much effort into always making sure he looked perfect, he despised anything that would ruin his hard work.

But, for you, he would do anything.

If it meant keeping you safe and keeping himself safe for you, he would do whatever was necessary.

And, the battle he fought definitely left its mark on him.

He had multiple cuts on his arms and legs, but they were minor and would heal on their own.

The one that hurt was the large bruise that had blossomed on his cheek. 

He had been avoiding looking in the mirror, afraid of how he would feel when he saw the ugly mark that spread across his face.

But then you came to him and offered to help him apply ice to the bruise.

And your hand was so warm as it rested on his other cheek, gently tilting his head in the right direction and keeping it there so you could hold the ice pack to the contusion.

“You were amazing out there,” you complimented him and despite the pain he was feeling, Asmo smiled up at you. 

“You think so?” he asked, a feeling of happiness taking over his senses. It’s how he always felt when he was in your presence.

You nodded your head and gently removed the ice pack, not wanting to harm his skin by holding the ice to it for too long at one time.

“You were worth the bruises and cuts,” Asmo admitted softly, his amber eyes lighting up as they connected with yours.

His words melted your heart and you felt the need to help make him feel better.

“Well, since you fought so bravely for me, I feel like it’s only fair that I take care of you until you heal,” you replied, taking a few steps closer.

You gently lifted his arm and placed a chaste kiss to every injury that you could see and then did the same to his other arm.

You ended your onslaught of kisses with a final one to his cheek where the bruise was.

Asmo closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling as your lips lingered on his cheek for just a little longer.

He wouldn’t be upset if he got hurt again in the future - as long as you were there to kiss every wound. 

Beel had been the most anxious about the entire situation.

He hadn’t been able to stop the nightmares from taking over his mind since you told him about everyone dying. 

He couldn’t imagine losing his brothers the way he had lost Lilith. He couldn’t imagine losing his friends. 

He would find a way to protect everyone and that included you.

Beel hadn’t been in a life-or-death situation since he and his brothers fell.

Back in the Celestial Realm, he was one of the most renowned warriors. 

He was great at fighting which is why he always stepped up when it came to protecting his family.

But, he never would have thought he would find himself in another situation where he had to fight. Where he had to protect his family or he would lose him.

He was fearless and relentless in his attacks and while it was one of the reasons everyone made it out alive, it also meant he had received numerous wounds. 

You were stitching up what felt like the third or fourth gash on Beel’s upper arm as he happily ate with his free hand.

After working up such a big appetite, he hadn’t stopped eating since he got home, even when you told him you needed to take care of his injuries.

But the one thing that pulled his attention away from his food was when he noticed the tears streaming down your face. 

He furrowed his eyebrows as he ate the last bite of food so that he could use his hands to cradle your face and force you to look away from his arm and into his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, carefully wiping away your tears.

You hadn’t even realized you had been crying until he said something and you touched your cheek as if to confirm his accusations were true.

“I guess I’m just…happy. It’s finally over,” you admitted and Beel gave you a small smile at your words.

He knew what it was like to be plagued by nightmares and he was glad that yours was finally over.

You leaned in and placed a kiss to Beel’s lips and his eyes widened in surprise before slowly melting into it. 

When you pulled away you told him, “Thank you for protecting everyone.”

Beel pulled you into a hug, attempting to slow his heart rate from your display of affection.

He told you he would protect you and his family and he meant it. He would always protect you.

Belphie may have been the youngest among his brothers, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t powerful in his own right.

He knew how to fight and he tended to fight dirty.

If he couldn’t overpower the enemies the same way his older brothers could then he would manipulate them and outmaneuver them - whatever he had to do to pull his own weight in the fight.

He stayed especially close to you and Beel, always making sure the two of you were in his line of sight so that if he had to take a blow for one of you, he could.

Under no circumstances would he let one of you die in front of him.

He tended to follow his brothers’ lead and would attack at specific moments that would prove most beneficial.

Work smarter, not harder.

Naturally, when it was all over, the first thing Belphie wanted to do was sleep.

He worked really hard out there on the battlefield and he needed to recharge his batteries.

You, however, refused to let him do so without treating his injuries first.

Belphie tried to protest at first, even going so far as to beg you to let him sleep.

But when he realized he wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep before you took care of him, he let out a dramatic sigh and gave in, allowing you to do what was necessary.

“Thank you for not dying,” you told him and he let out a snort. 

He wasn’t sure how much power he had in choosing his own fate but if that’s what you wanted to believe to make you feel better, then he would play along.

“You’re welcome,” he replied as you finished what you were doing.

Belphie immediately pulled you into the bed with him, wrapping his arms around you as he rested his head on your chest.

He did what you wanted him to do and now it was your turn.

You comfortingly ran your fingers through Belphie’s hair and he relaxed under your touch.

You didn’t mind him laying on top of you like this because it was just further proof that he survived. That he was there with you.

Belphie had been desperately wanting sleep but now that he was lying in your arms, his mind was racing with a hundred things he wanted to say and it was keeping him awake.

After a few more moments, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked at you. 

You locked eyes with him and you could see the adoration he held in them.

After everything that happened in his past, he never would have thought a human could have such a strong hold over him.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, committing the way your lips felt against his to memory.

He told you that he would never forget about you and it wasn’t just a promise he made to comfort you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Because he didn’t know what he would do without you. 

Even though you told them that everyone else had died and that you survived, it didn’t mean that you weren’t equally at risk. 

One wrong move and you could have been taken from him.

“Thank you for not dying too,” he stated and you smiled up at him.

“You’re welcome,”  you replied and he fell back into your arms, pulling you even closer.  

Diavolo felt an immense amount of pressure on his shoulders when he heard about the tragic deaths of everyone he had come to know and love.

He was the presiding ruler of the Devildom and it was his responsibility to protect those that resided in his kingdom.

He wasn’t sure what mistakes he made in the past that allowed for them to all meet their end.

But he was determined to not make a single one this time.

Being born as a royal in the Devildom, Diavolo grew up training how to fight and he was very good at it.

He led the charge against the enemies with Barbatos advising his every step and the brothers backing up his every move.

He truly blossomed in his role as the future King of the Devildom. 

And while he wished he could say that his motivation to fight valiantly was because of his desire to protect his citizens, you were at the forefront of his mind.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how he couldn’t let you down. How he had to protect you. How he had to come back to you.

You were what drove him forward and spurred on each and every attack.

And as you stood in front of him, your body pressed against his as you helped him with his abrasions, Diavolo couldn’t help but wonder - when did you become so important to him?

He would put everything on the line for you, and while most would take advantage of a prince in that position, you were different.

You would never ask him to do that and he loved you even more for it.

He had told you that he would make you his Queen if he could and he never once regretted speaking those words to you.

He had many fantasies of the two of you ruling side by side and he thought those dreams would never be able to come to fruition after you told him about the horrible events that took place.

He thought that his dreams of making you his would be ripped from him.

And now that you were both here, both of you alive and - for the most part - healthy, Diavolo wanted to make those dreams a reality.

He wouldn’t wait for something else to come up and risk separating the two of you again.

He didn’t even wait for you to finish tending to his wounds when he pulled you into him and passionately crashed his lips to yours.

He didn’t care how long it took or who he needed to convince, you would rule alongside him. 

Now that he had you, he was never letting you go and you were happy to take your place by his side.

Barbatos was one of the most powerful demons you could have fighting on your side.

He served Lord Diavolo closely for a reason and it wasn’t just for his ability to provide excellent service.

His age provided an expansive amount of experience and his wisdom provided an excellent point of view when making a battle plan.

Barbatos knew every fighting technique and strategy. He knew every formation that would be advantageous and which ones to avoid.

After hearing the news of everyone’s massacre from you, Diavolo had asked Barbatos to look into the future and see how it happened.

There were multiple different scenarios. Different catalysts caused a different set of events to occur.

And Barbatos prepared for every single one of them.

You were hoping that he would pull through for you and he wanted to prove that he was someone you could depend on.

He wanted to prove that he was someone you could trust.

His advice and instructions had paid off.

He had given everyone a summary of the things he had learned and you had seen them effectively putting that information to use.

It prevented them from getting seriously injured and even allowed them to pull off surprise attacks that permitted your friends to gain the upper hand. 

Barbatos had gotten injured during the battle, but he wasn’t planning on making those injuries known.

It was his job to service others, not to have others tend to him.

After making sure the others were properly taken care of he disappeared to his room to treat his own wounds.

He let out a small gasp as he saw you there, already waiting for him with a kit in hand. 

You motioned for Barbatos to sit down and he did as you asked, knowing it would be pointless to try and argue with you.

Barbatos didn’t have any noticeable wounds on him but you had seen him get struck on the back and you knew that it would be a hard injury for him to take care of by himself.

You asked him to take off his shirt, albeit with a blush covering your cheeks, and he complied.

You did your best to not stare as you walked behind him to start cleaning and bandaging the cut. 

Your hands were efficient and gentle while treating the laceration and Barbatos tried to fill his mind with random thoughts to keep it from thinking about the way your hands felt on his skin.

He could feel your breath fanning down his back and a shiver went down his spine. He did his best to hide it from you though.

When you were done, you hugged him from behind, your arms wrapping around his chest as you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck.

Barbatos was blushing, his heart racing, as he tried to process the shock of your movement.

“Thank you for being there for me and for helping end things once and for all,” you told him.

Your lips being so close to his ear made him flustered as he placed his arms over yours, attempting to hug you back.

“I told you - I’ll always be here for you,” he replied, a smile gracing his features even though you couldn’t see it. 

You pulled away to place a kiss on his cheek and he took the opportunity to spin around and pull you into his arms, where he planned on keeping you for the rest of the night.

During the fight, Simeon was the one who kept the most watchful eye over you.

He was a powerful angel and did what he could to help the others fight.

But, every few seconds he kept getting distracted by you.

He knew it was dangerous to take your focus off your enemy, but he was just so worried that you would get hurt. He couldn’t help it.

His concern didn’t go unnoticed. 

You recognized the way his eyes hardly left your figure and the way you felt his wing wrap around you when he felt like an attack was getting a little too close to you.

He had taken multiple lacerations that were meant for you, and he didn’t even flinch when they hit him.

He gladly took them, making sure you came out of the battle unscathed. He couldn’t handle seeing you hurt.

And because of his strong efforts to protect you, you felt like you owed Simeon some extra TLC once it was all over.

He winced slightly as you cleaned a cut on his cheek and you immediately retracted your hand as if it betrayed you.

“I’m sorry!” you told him and he gave you a warm smile as he gently grabbed your wrist and led it back to his cheek.

“It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it is all,” he replied and you gave him a small smile, continuing to treat his injury, being extra careful this time.

“How are you feeling?” Simeon asked you as you gently placed a bandage over the lesion.

You sat down next to him and he turned his head slightly to the side, urging you to be honest with him.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally allowed yourself to feel the emotions you had been bottling up.

As soon as Simeon saw you crying, he pulled you into his arms, gently rubbing his hand over your back and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m just so relieved it’s over,” you admitted and Simeon nodded his head, understanding where you were coming from.

“I would have kept my promise, you know?” Simeon asked and you pulled back to look up at the angel.

“Even if we couldn’t stop it, I would have found my way to you,” Simeon told you gently running the back of his hand over your cheek, letting his thumb brush your lower lip before falling away.

You immediately leaned forward and pressed your lips to Simeon’s wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him as close as possible.

You only broke away when you needed to breathe and you looked into his blue eyes.

“I would have found my way back to you too,” you told him genuinely and Simeon believed you. 

He believed that the two of you were destined for each other, and now that you had both survived, he was going to make the most of the time that the two of you had with each other.

Like everyone else, Solomon had made you the promise that he wouldn’t stop the tragic events that you had experienced from happening.

He made you a promise that you would never have to go through all of that pain again.

He made you a promise that he would never leave you again.

And he did everything in his power to ensure that he kept that promise.

It didn’t matter how many incantations he had to perform or how many times he had to put up protective barriers around everyone.

He didn’t care if it took every last ounce of magical energy that he had. 

He helped make sure that everyone made it out of there safe.

Solomon played the support role rather than being at the front of the battle so he didn’t have a ton of physical injuries.

But he was far more exhausted than any of the others.

He knew that his job was one of the most important ones and he would be damned if he didn’t do it to perfection.

He refused to let any of his friends die.

But at the end of the day, no matter how immortal or powerful he was, Solomon was still human.

And he had his limits on how much magic he could use at one time.

He had pushed himself nearly to his breaking point, hardly able to stand after it was all said and done. 

You took him back to Purgatory Hall and got him in his bed.

Solomon didn’t like looking weak, but in front of you, he didn’t mind.

You made him his favorite tea and snack and brought it to him, sitting next to him on the bed.

You gently wiped any sweat from his brow and continuously placed the back of your hand on his forehead to check for a fever.

Not that Solomon would ever complain. He enjoyed the feeling of your hand on his forehead as you leaned close to him. 

After the tenth time of resting your hand against his forehead, Solomon reached up and interlaced your fingers with his.

“Is my adorable apprentice worried about me?” Solomon asked with a cheeky smile and your cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“Maybe…you pushed yourself really hard out there,” you replied and he could see the concern in your eyes.

“I had a promise to keep,” Solomon replied nonchalantly before gently squeezing your hand and adding, “I’m fine - I just need to rest.”

You nodded your head, adjusting his blankets a bit and Solomon took advantage of the moment to tell you, “If you want to help, you could always rest with me.”

He let out a small chuckle at your flustered expression and decided to tease you just a little more by stating, “I would recover much faster if you were next to me.”

You knew that he was taunting you, but you did as he asked anyway, slipping under the covers and resting your head on his chest.

Solomon’s arms wrapped around you and he had a happy smile on his face as he held you close to him.

“Just this once,” you told him with a smirk.

You knew it was a lie. He knew it was a lie. 

After all, even though you restarted the timeline multiple times, you found your way back to him and he wasn’t letting you go.

Luke may be considered young when it came to angels, but he wasn’t stupid.

The gravity of your words hit him just as hard as it hit everyone else.

His expectations of him surviving were low and it wasn’t beneath him to admit that he was scared.

When he managed to escape with only a few minor injuries, Luke had made up his mind to try more new things even if it scared him. 

He would make sure to spend as much time with you as possible and maybe - just maybe - he wouldn’t be so hard on the others for being demons.

But if they decided to do something that he would consider bad or evil, then all bets were off the table.

*

Mephisto already felt like a failure when you told him that everyone died, including Diavolo.

It was his job to protect the throne and if Diavolo died then he had failed his only purpose.

He made an extra effort to protect Diavolo in the fight and was so grateful when everyone managed to escape.

It wasn’t lost on him that he could have lost his life in that battle though. And now that he’d been granted more time, he would use it to his advantage.

So what if he wanted to spend more time with you? Don’t mistake him for falling under your spell like Lucifer.

He just wanted to see what all the fuss was about…

*

Raphael had come almost instantly when Simeon told him what was happening.

The Celestial Realm and the Devildom may not always get along, but he was happy to fight alongside everyone when it came to a common enemy.

It was clear that the war may not have been won without Raphael’s help and your abundant gratitude was enough to finally bring a blush to the high-ranking angel’s cheeks.

He tried not to get caught up in the affairs of the exchange program, but it was hard to not want to when you had that look of adoration in your eyes as you looked at him.

Perhaps he would have to bring you to the Celestial Realm sometime and show you his favorite spots.

*

Thirteen was both excited and disappointed at how everything played out.

She didn’t really want to lose everyone she had come to know, but at the same time, she was a reaper.

Without death, she would be out of a job.

In all seriousness though, she was tired of the boys stealing your attention.

You all just escaped death and she had been very nervous about possibly having to reap your soul this early.

From now on, she would be making sure she got as much time with you as she wanted.

And if anyone wanted to protest, she had the perfect trap for them!

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

Tempted to make an alternate ending where only MC dies

[sophieinwonderland]

An Endogenic Response to a Message Towards Endogenic Systems

Trigger Warning: Death Threats, Harassment, Cyberbullying, Ableism, Slurs, Hate Groups

@loafofcatbread

Aren't you one of the moderators of Aspen's server? You are, right?

You all specifically came onto this website to spread hate. Aspen said she wants to normalize cyberbullying endogenic systems. And you're using our tags to post hateful messages to our community because you want to hurt us. That's your intent in being here. Causing pain and suffering to other people for existing.

Why deny it and try to play victim?

Amazing how you accuse us of sending slurs and death threats while Aspen is calling us "Schizo." Specifically while bragging about using it as a slur.

And... you know we can see your reblogs, right Loaf???

And for death threats... we can also see YOUR LIKES!

Yes! We see you, Loaf! Just like we see Aspen!

We see your hypocrisy. We see your bullying. And we aren't going to tolerate it.

I don't know if any endogenic systems have been sending death threats or slurs in response to you all invading our spaces with the intent of hurting and bullying us. I haven't seen this happening, and I would strongly discourage anyone from stooping to your level.

But I DO know what you all have been doing.

You and your disgusting pals aren't allowed to play victim here! Sorry.

And for your talk of misinformation, I've yet to see anything even resembling a source for the claims your side have made. Anti-endos love to assert thing. They like to say whatever nonsense they can come up with as if it's a fact and then expect people just accept it.

But they can't cite in professionals who can back them up because none exist.

And when pro-endos respond with sources, the modus operandi of you all have been to throw slurs and ad hominems as Aspen did when she was sent a link to my post debunking her video.

Maybe you think you're educated because you got all your information of plurality from a popular Tiktoker with an inflated ego and no actual background in psychology or any sources to support her claims, but that's not education. That's indoctrination.

You and your hive have been indoctrinated.

Finally, over the years, I've seen countless traumagenic systems be attacked, bullied and fakeclaimed for being pro-endo, mixed origin or presenting in ways anti-endos deem unusual. And anti-endos, by their nature, encourage fakeclaiming. They encourage invalidating systems. And this has increased stigma of traumagenic systems, normalizing hate against systems of all types.

You are NOT an ally to traumagenic systems.

You're an ally to a hate group.

And it's so sad that you can't even see it...