#i can’t decide whether you should live or die

[nach0]

Singing murder songs under my breath while playing murder games > everything else

[cjoatprehn]

[jaegersol]

..

[howtofightwrite]

For a character that virtually can’t die and regenerates in order to keep living, how do you make action interesting? Emphasize they still feel pain, why they’re doing it?

I'm actually going to step back a bit from this question first, and complement it. This is a very honest question, and something most writers who include violence in their work, should really think about. Even if you don't think you have characters like this, you do.

Now, I'm going to dunk on Ben “Yahtzee” Croshaw for a moment. Ages ago (I think it was in one of his Resistance reviews), Yahtzee described, “threatening to blow up the world,” as the laziest form of raising the stakes. Because, “hey, I live on a world.” He's mostly correct. Threatening your protagonist's life is even lazier. In the vast majority of cases, your audience knows you won't go through with it. That you won't kill off your protagonists.

With that in mind, when you decide your protagonist is completely immortal, that changes less about how you write them than you might expect. The biggest difference is simply that they're directly aware of their plot armor, rather than them engaging in faux indecision based on their perceived mortality. Again, this is something that every writer who uses violence should think about, at least a bit. It is natural for a character to fear for their life, and have reservations about risking their life, but making the part where your character's lives are on the line isn't automatically suspenseful. In a lot of cases (consciously or not), your audience will call your bluff, when you threaten to kill off a major character.

If you think back to major character deaths where something drops them without warning, part of what makes those scenes work is the lack of (apparent) setup. The writer didn't spend pages teasing you with the idea, they just went for the throat and ended that character on the spot. This is more respectful of your audience, because you're not telling them, “well, I might kill this character, or I might not.”

To be clear, I'm not saying that there's no place for teasing your audience with a character's impending demise, just pointing out that in a lot of cases, this won't generate the kind of suspense you'd hope for.

So, to get back on topic, how do you make it interesting? Remember that while this character can't die, the same is not true for the characters around them. Depending on the tone you're going for, you could create an absolutely brutal crucible effect, where everyone around your immortal gets burned off, sooner or later. Whether that's literal, or figurative, is up to you. Even if your character can't die, watching people they care about suffer and die is going to have an effect on them.

You probably don't need to draw special attention to the physical pain they experience, but you do want to be aware of it. Especially in the context of how pain affects the victim's behavior. Beyond that, there is probably an element of pain being far more annoying to the immortal than it would be to a normal person. They know it's not telling them anything meaningful, but it is distracting.

Long-term, both of these can easily result in personality shifts. And, legitimately, this is a scenario where a character may be immortal, but they would still experience significant changes over time, and with the growing emotional pain, could have very adverse effects on your personality. This does have some very real, “live long enough to see yourself become the villain,” potential. How many friends can you lose before you stop caring? How many funerals can you attend before you start taking the phrase, “you're either part of the solution or part of the problem,” a little too far? How many times can you pick yourself up off the pavement a blood-covered alleyway, surrounded by corpses, before you start to forget what made you human in the first place?

And, that's not the only option. The simplest answer for maintaining tension when one of your characters is immortal is keeping your eye on what they're trying to accomplish. Keep track of their objectives, because I guarantee they can fail those. Even just keeping their own nature concealed from the mortal world is probably fairly important, because of the idea that men in hazmat suits will drag them away to some research lab and poke them until they figure out how to replicate their immortality, is a classic (and potentially plausible) threat. (Bonus points, if you're wanting to loop in something like the medieval inquisitions, or some other secret societies that could pose this kind of a threat.)

So, what do you do? To dig out an old cliché threat, “there are fates worse than death,” and it's probably worth exploring them. This also opens up new possibilities for threats. Finally, it's worth remembering that immortality does not guarantee success. If your character is hoping for that, it might be time to give them a very harsh lesson.

-Starke

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[neo-nomatrix]

Give you the world

Joel Miller x reader

summary: You love Joel more than you can explain, you just can’t figure out if he feels the same

warnings: age gap, angst ig

my last joel fic

a/n: could be read as a part two of my last Joel fic but it can be read as a stand alone

You haven’t seen Joel truly happy in a while, the closest it’s come to is now. You’re standing with Ellie when Joel runs up to his brother, Tommy, who you’ve heard little about. You swear you hear him sniffling as he walks back to you.

The gates of Jackson are unbelievable. It’s somehow so incredibly warm despite the thick layer of snow below your feet. Everyone is beyond inviting and kind, it reminds you of before the outbreak.

“It’s amazing here,” you tell Tommy and Maria as you, Joel, and Ellie eat the plates of food in front of you.

“I’m glad you all like it,” Maria responds, smiling,

“It’s safe here,” Joel mumbles while leaning over his plate.

You can tell he’s thinking about something, whether it’s a good thing or not, you don’t know.

-

Maria leads you and Ellie to your home for the next day? week? month? You’re still not sure how long you’ll spend here. You secretly hope it’s a long time but you can tell it won’t last.

Since you’ve arrived you haven’t seen Joel in at least three hours.

“Hey, El, do you know where Joel is?” you ask the girl, slightly concerned.

“No, are you going out looking for him?” she asks.

“Probably, don’t know where I should start though,” You respond.

Something drew you to the carpenter's shed when you were searching for Joel. You peer into the window and as you suspected you saw him sitting there. Toying with new boots you assumed Tommy had given him. As you open the door Joel didn’t look up like you had expected.

“Joel,” You say quietly.

“Joel,” you say again, this time tapping his shoulder and using a firmer voice.

He slightly jolted back like he was shocked.

“Oh, hey,” he said reluctantly.

“Is something the matter? You seem upset,” You ask worried.

“How’d you like it if you stayed here for a while?”

“This sounds like a trick,” you tell him.

“I’ve asked Tommy to take Ellie the rest of the way. I’m gonna leave too, and you’re gonna stay here,” He said, his eyes not meeting yours.

“What?” you say, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

“And what makes you think you can just decide that for us?”

“It’s the best option for you and Ellie,” he said.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Like hell it is! Joel, you are the only person I trust right now, and as far as I'm concerned you are the only person who can take care of me. You promised me you’d protect me, you fucking promised!” You’re both standing now, in a fit of rage you start lightly hitting his chest with your fists.

“Hey, hey I know what I said. You can call me a liar all you want. Just please, stay here. Where you’re safe. This is how i’m protecting you,” He says, you don’t miss the way his voice breaks.

“Joel, don't do this! I’ll never fucking forgive you. I’m gonna hate you if you do this,” You sob into his chest as he holds your clenched hands.

“I’m sorry, I'm so sorry. I just- I just can’t take care of you. I’m worthless to you now,” At this point his eyes are threatening tears too.

“You can’t! You can’t leave me too. No, no, no, I won't let you.”

“Doll, you have to trust me. I’d give up everything for you if I could. But you’re young, you have so much more life to live. If I take you with me I'm endangering that. And I'd rather die than see you hurt,” he admits as he picks up his boots and leaves you to settle with your own pain.

_

Ellie had told you about her own fight with Joel only a few hours after your own. Part of you still can’t believe he would just let go of the two of you so easily.

You’re walking beside Ellie and Tommy to the stables. You’re still processing the fact that this is “the end.”

“So what? This is it? Everything we did all for just this,” Ellie asks you.

“Maybe not,” you nod towards Joel who’s standing by one of the horses.

“Are you here to say goodbye?” You ask Joel, walking up to him.

“Look, I still think you’d be safer here and Ellie would be better off with Tommy. But you both deserve a choice. You can-” Joel gets cut off by Ellie throwing her bag at him.

“Let’s just go already,” she tells the both of you.

“You have every right to hate me, doll. I don’t blame you if you want to stay here now. But I need you to know how much you mean to me, okay?” Joel says, his hands cup your face.

You sure as hell don’t miss the way his eyes finally meet yours.

[coolchulainn]

shalem is normal this is just what being an artist is like

here's the text in the first image but with more readable formatting and actual punctuation:

So it’s a fairly common sentiment among actors that once you pick up the profession your every action becomes subject to the framework of the performance, right? Even in the midst of your most intense emotional breakdowns there’s this part of you that is assessing how it looks and feels, and how you might artificially recreate these moments to convey the same impression of emotion to a hypothetical future audience. And with this comes the constant nagging feeling that even your most sincere expressions of yourself are simply a performance of traits, rather than an expression of your actual self, and that’s for the actors that weren’t raised by a theater murder cult that assigned you a personality to act out for the rest of your life or die.

And in a sense I am fortunate that the personality they decided on for me is “modest and gentle”, because this made it fairly easy for me to blend into the background of society after I ran away and built an imitation of a normal life for myself. But it’s precisely because that is the personality I was assigned that I have no idea whether I ever actually escaped or was simply allowed to leave, because I cannot be sure that this desire to escape is actually my own. I ruined my stage debut because I did not want to kill someone, but the personality that retained a conscience that wanted to leave was assigned to me by the very people who wanted me to surrender that conscience. And I have no recollection of what I was like before I began to act according to that role, so the role of modest and gentle Shalem is all I have as a self to act according to, and even while I physically distance myself from the Crimson Troupe my life and self continue to be defined by their decisions about what that life and self should be.

And if I really did not want to kill I could easily live out the rest of my days as a logistics operator never seeing the blood of another person, right? But I became a combat operator by my own choice. I cannot avert my eyes from the beauty of slaughter that the Crimson Troupe raised me to see. I am hopelessly drawn to the battlefield for the way it resembles the stage that I once so desperately sought to escape and cannot deny the rush I feel when I splatter some poor schmuck’s brains out with my shield. I mean, you’ve seen how I get out there right, I’m setting myself on fire and everything because I can’t stop thinking about wanting to see their heads on a platter. Did you know my debut was going to be Salome btw.

[carmybears]

Stay

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: meeting Carmy's sister for the first time. tw for panic attacks.

word count: 2.9K

The sound of shattering ceramic in the other room makes your head snap up with a start. Across the couch from you, Sugar’s eyebrows knit together in concern — an expression you can only think of as “older sister face”—as she calls out to her brother.

“Everything ok in there, Carm?”

“Guess we know why he’s a chef and not a dish washer,” Pete chuckles, giving her a good natured pat on the knee in reassurance.

When you don’t hear a sound in the other room, you feel a lump begin to grow in your throat. 

“I should go check on-“ Sugar starts.

“No, no I got it,” you volunteer, recalling Carmy’s previous statements to you about this sister’s sixth sense for knowing when he’s in trouble (and scolding him for being a “soft shitty bitch” whenever he refuses her help).

“I was gonna refill my drink here in a minute anyway. Can I get you some more wine?” You ask, but don’t wait for an answer as you hurry to your feet and out of the room, leaving the wine glasses forgotten on the table.

__

This was your first time meeting Carmy’s sister.

In the months since you started dating, you had already become well acquainted with his work family, but you knew that Carmy had some hesitations about introducing you to his real family. In the wake of Mikey’s death, he had been putting effort into mending his relationship with his sister, although progress didn’t necessarily come easy. Regardless, someone (probably Richie) let it slip to Sugar that “some girl” had been coming around the restaurant, “making Carmen all smiley.” Before you knew it, Carmy was begrudgingly extending his sister’s invitation to come around for dinner at her house.

The night of the dinner, Carmy drove you out to Sugar’s and you fretted the whole way there about how you looked, what small talk you would make, whether she’d like the bottle of wine you’d brought. But every time Carmy heard the insecurity creeping into your voice, he reached over and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, thumb running softly over your knuckles.

When you arrived, you were greeted by Sugar and Pete, already standing on the front doorstep, ready to pull you into a warm hug.

“It’s so good to meet you!” Sugar tells you with a squeeze. “God, look at you. You’re out of his league.”

She turns and says this with a wink to her brother before pulling him into an embrace as well.

Pete claps you on the shoulder warmly. “Good to have you here - it’s always nice to get another outsiders perspective on these two.”

Dinner itself is phenomenal—you learn that Sugar makes an eggplant parmesan that is to die for and you can’t help but wonder whether aptitude in the kitchen is genetic. Although, you do feel a bit like you’re on display for the first few hours of the evening because every time Carmy even so much as looks at you, Sugar’s eyes widen in delight like a kid on Christmas morning. Eventually Carmy nudges her arm and shakes his head at her, mumbling something about not wanting to scare you off.

At the end of the meal, you stand with your plate in hand, more than happy to help clean up after the amazing meal Sugar had prepared for you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Sugar fusses, reaching out to take the plate.

“No, no I insist. Dinner was so great, it’s the least I can do.”

“How about I get the dishes,” Carmy offers, turning to his sister. “You can go tell embarrassing stories about me in the other room or something. I don’t need to be there when you pull out my sixth grade yearbook picture.”

Sugar looks like she wants to continue to debate the matter but decides against it, settling for topping off your wine glass and motioning to the living room around the corner.

You stack your dishes beside the sink and give Carmy’s arm a quick squeeze. "God, I bet you were such an awkward sixth grader.”

His lips pull into a brief smile and he lets out a knowing chuckle.

“Believe me, I was.” He plants a quick peck on your cheek. “I’ll be out there in a few.”

_

When you enter the kitchen, Carmy’s back is to you as he stands at the sink and you see shards of ceramic – one of Sugar’s dinner plates—scattered on the floor surrounding his feet. Only when you step in closer do you notice the white knuckle grip that Carmy has on the countertop and the way he’s leaning against the granite for stability.

“Carmy?” your voice is panicked as you rush over to his side, sidestepping the worst of the broken dishware on the floor.

When you reach him, all of the color has drained from Carmy’s face and he’s got a fist pressed tightly to his chest as he sucks in frantic, shallow breaths. He blinks heavily, eyes squeezing together as if in pain, and you register something like fear in his eyes when he reopens them.

Your heart catches in your throat as you reach out to him, extending a shaking hand to cover his fist, now clawing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Carmy, Carm –“ You try to keep your voice a soothing tone as you press your fingertips lightly at his jaw. “Carmen.”

His gaze shifts and he starts, seemingly just now aware of your presence. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“Carmy, honey, you’re having a panic attack,” you tell him. “Let’s sit you down, alright?”

At first, you start to steer him toward the kitchen table before he hesitates, keeping his feet planted firmly where he stands. When you look up, you realize why – the table is in full view of the living room, directly in the line of sight of Sugar and Pete.

“Ok, c’mere,” you coax him in the opposite direction, finding an open space away from the broken plate where Carmy can slide to the floor, back pressed up against the cabinets as you settle onto the ground in front of him, gripping his hand firmly in yours.

“If you breathe, you’re gonna feel a lot better. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

He gulps in a shaking breath, which he immediately exhales. Not great, but it’s a start.

“Ok, that’s good,” you nod, rubbing your hand in circles on his back. “This time, I want you to do that for two seconds. I’ll do it with you, ok.”

You breathe in audibly through your nose, counting out the seconds on your fingers as Carmy does the same.

“That’s better, let’s do it again.”

Again, Carmy breathes and you squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“You’re doing great, baby. Now lemme see you hold that breath for two seconds and then exhale out real slow.”

You continue to guide him in his breathing, counting out loud as he gradually builds up to taking longer, deeper breaths. Some of the color seems to have come back into his face, and you can feel his pulse thumping in his wrist, still rapid, but not alarmingly so.

When you stop counting aloud, Carmy continues taking the long breaths on his own, tilting his head back to rest against the cabinet with his eyes closed. You readjust your position on the floor so that you’re sitting beside him, bodies pressed together hip to shoulder as you continue rubbing small circles on his back.

A shadow crosses the doorway, and you see Sugar enter the kitchen, a look of alarm crossing her face.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, willing her not to make a sound. It’s ok, you mouth to her.

The look of concern never leaves her face, but she nods trustingly and retreats back to the living room.

A few minutes later, you feel Carmy squeeze your hand tightly and you turn to look at him. His eyes are red and look more sullen than usual, but otherwise he looks fine.

“Thank you,” he rasps, not quite meeting your eye as he rakes a hand nervously through his hair and shifts his weight as he begins to stand. “I’m just gonna, uh, splash some water on my face. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” you promise.

Carmy disappears down the hall and you hear the click of a door and the faucet running a second later. In his absence, you find a broom and dustpan, cleaning up the broken plate the best you can before Carmy returns.

He says nothing when he comes back, just eyes the now clean floor and nods curtly. The pinched expression on his face tells you that he’s just barely holding something back, so you keep your questions to yourself and allow him to twine your fingers together before leading you back to the living room.

“Uh oh, there are the lovebirds,” Pete chimes when you return. “I was getting scared that you two might be up to trouble.”

Sugar’s face contorts from exasperation to defeat, but you see Carmy smile out of the corner of your eye, acting as if nothing had just happened in the kitchen as he addresses his brother in law.

“Not too much trouble, unless you’re asking the plates. Let me know how much I owe you for that, by the way.”

Pete shakes his head. “You don’t wanna know dude. That shit’s Crate & Barrel – costs an arm and a leg.”

--

Thankfully, the rest of the evening passes without incident, and you almost forget about the scene in the kitchen. Almost.

You and Carmy had brought along a box of Marcus’s latest donut creations for dessert, which the four of you happily dive into, swiping crumbs from your plate when you’re done. Sugar and Carmy take turns telling stories about each other, and Pete even brings up a few stories from his childhood, prompting you to take mental bets with yourself about his upbringing (your money is on him being an only child from an upper middle class family in Nebraska; only a flyover state could produce such a degree of loud, overconfident politeness in a man like Pete).

It’s only when you catch Carmy yawning out of the corner of your eye that you all take note of the late hour and begin the process of saying goodbye. You shrug in to your coat and Sugar loads up your arms with leftovers from dinner, all the while begging Carmy to leave the final two donuts at the house for her and Pete.

In a whirlwind, you are pulled into a warm hug and a kiss is pressed into your cheek as you stand on the doorstep with Carmy. As the two of you start down the front steps toward the car, you hear Sugar’s voice behind you.

“Carmy? Can I see you a sec?”

You sense Carmy’s hesitation but he lingers back as you proceed to the car, depositing the leftover food safely in the backseat. When you turn back, the Berzattos are standing close together, voices low and heads tilted toward each other in conversation. The warm glow of the porchlight catches in a few strands of their hair, illuminating them both in an angelic glow as Sugar pulls Carmy into a final hug and says her goodbyes.

Carmy ambles over to the car, and in the dim moonlight, you notice how weary his face looks now that he’s no longer putting on a polite charade for his sister and brother-in-law.

“Baby, how about you let me drive,” you suggest, running a hand down the rough woolen sleeve of his plaid jacket. “No offense, but you look like you got hit by a bus.”

Carmy looks at you a moment and a wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “That’s how I usually look.”

“Well, then it looks like you got hit by a bigger bus than usual.”

He lets out a dry laugh and hands the keys over to you.

You crank the heat in his car the moment you start the vehicle, needing a dry blast of heat to cut through the damp chill of early fall in Chicago. With mirrors and seats adjusted, you pull away from the curb and Carmy directs you out of Sugar’s neighborhood, the headlights of the vehicle cutting through the darkness of Sugar’s suburban streets.

“I think that went really well,” Carmy remarks after directing you to make a left turn onto a more familiar street. “Sugar loves you.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t love me,” you chuckle, bringing the car to a stop at a red light.

“She told me so,” he insists. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already requested to follow you on Instagram and is plotting to invite you to book club with her college friends.”

“Book club? Do they read anything interesting?”

The light turns green and you make the turn onto the highway, accelerating steadily as you merge with traffic. For a few miles, you and Carmy sit together in silence. You swallow the lump that has been gradually forming in your throat since dessert and your palms grow slick as you wonder how best to speak to Carmy about what happened tonight. You suppose you could just let it be for now, although you have a sneaking suspicion, knowing Carmy, that he won’t bring it up unprompted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the city lights sliding over Carmy’s features as you speed back toward home – red and green lights casting long shadows over his cheekbones, fanned out under his eyelashes.

Your chest constricts as you make the decision to dive in.

“So do you get panic attacks a lot?”

There is a beat of silence before he exhales heavily. “How do you define a lot?”

You give him a stern look over the center console before fixing your eyes back on the road, his hands fidgeting in your peripheral vision.

“I started getting them a lot around the time I came back here,” He admitted slowly. “I suppose I probably used to have a version of them back in New York, y’know, with the whole vomit before work thing. But really, it’s been since Mikey.”

You nod silently, flicking the blinker with your left hand as you change lanes, knowing that your exit is coming up.

“This is the first time I’ve had one since meeting you, though. The last time, Syd had just started at The Beef and I just ran out on her, hauled ass to get to the Al Anon meeting across town. I dunno how to explain it, but I just had to get out of the Restaurant, away from Mikey. It had started to feel to real, y’know? Like he was alive again.”

He lets out a long breath, scratching at the crown of his head as he tended to do whenever he was getting stressed or uncomfortable.

“That’s how it felt tonight too –With you meeting Sugar and all. I was standin’ there doing the dishes and thinking God, this is going great and the thought occurred to me that I couldn’t wait for you to meet Mikey.”

Carmy’s still fidgeting, fingers drumming against his thigh, toying with a loose thread on his jacket. You reach out to him and lay your hand over his, squeezing lightly.

He squeezes back and whispers, so quietly that you almost don’t hear it. “He would’ve loved you.”

Your throat feels tight and you’re surprised to feel the prickle of tears stinging your eyes as you listen to his confession.

“I wish I could have met him, Carmy. I really do.”

You take your exit off the highway and zigzag your way down the surrounding streets until you come to Carmy’s apartment, fortunate enough to find parking on your first pass down the street. As soon as you open the car doors, the damp chill of the autumn air raises goosebumps up and down your arms with a shiver.

You’ve barely stepped onto the sidewalk when Carmy tugs you into a tight hug, arms wrapped tightly around your torso as he presses his lips to your forehead. You squeeze your arms around him as you bury your face into the curve of his shoulder and feel him let out a long breath. You stand there for nearly a full minute, wrapped up in each other, unmoving until Carmy finally steps away.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight?” he asks, motioning his head in the direction of his building.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask, a bit surprised. Up to this point of your relationship, Carmy had always had a habit of retreating back after sharing such vulnerable pieces of himself – his relationship with his brother, his anxieties about the restaurant. You’d always respected his space, understanding that he’d come back around when he wasn’t feeling so raw. Honestly, you had already expected that tonight you’d be catching the L home and wouldn’t hear from him until tomorrow, so it came as a surprise when he nodded yes, blue eyes pleading with you in ways that words couldn’t.

“Of course I’ll stay,” you promised him. And as you walked arm in arm into the building, you hoped he knew that you would always stay if he needed you to.

[in-study-hell]

I can’t decide whether you should live or die ~

[highonmarvel]

Dilated [I]

Steve Rogers bumps into a woman whose pupils are larger than normal.

Previous Part: [Prologue]

content warnings here!

You startle at the contact and quickly slap his hands off, immediately groaning at the cramp suffocating your left upper arm as you pull it back. You can’t really see the tall man in front of you through your watery eyes, and you can’t wipe your eyes due to your sweaty palms.

You’re struggling to really comprehend what he’s saying; you know he asked if you’re okay, and then?

“Can I take you home?” his voice comes through hazily.

“Wh- What?” you ask, the question immediately flying out of your head as your eyes rapidly scan the streets, like looking for signs of danger, when you’re sure there aren’t any.

“Can I take you home,” he repeats, slowly and louder. You turn your head to wipe your face on your shoulder as he continues, “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

That’s Captain America, no?

With your eyes less blurry now, you’re just able to make out the blue eyes and golden hair under the warm streetlights.

“Okay!” is all you can muster, and you’re not sure to what he took it: okay to take you home or okay that’s his name? Maybe you should give your name in response but you don’t, you can’t. When he asks for your address, you snap something at him that you think is where you live, though you can’t tell through your irritation; he’s really agitating you for some reason; he’s done nothing, but he’s got you annoyed, or maybe you’re just annoyed in general after Sharon cut you off. You wonder why, because it’s not like she doesn’t have a supply, and it’s not like she cares whether you live or die.

You stumble a few times and sway slightly as you stay just a little ahead of him in beat to get to your flat but refuse his offer of a strong, steady arm around your waist to keep your stable. You don’t want to touch him at all, feeling hot and hotter even just walking beside him, everything radiating heat, but especially his body.

You get to the entrance of your building and push your shoulder against the door to stumble into the hall. You don’t notice Steve come in behind you under he places a large hand on the small of your back and you jump in fright with a yelp, whipping around to face him.

“Sorry!” he apologises, “I’m sorry, but I really need to make sure you get in safe. Is that okay?”

You wish he would stop talking, and you guess he knows you’re not really processing what he’s saying, but you don’t really have the drive to snap at him, just letting him trail you as you walk up four flights of stairs to get to your door. He stays alert behind you, ready for you to fall backwards and into his arms, but you make it, surprising even yourself.

You fumble with your keys, ignoring his offer to help as you drop the key four times before you get it in the lock and then another three trying to turn it. You don’t kick off your shoes, don’t take off your jacket or even pull your sling bag off, you just crash face first into the couch and fall right asleep.

***

Steve is surprised at your exhaustion. His first guess was heroin withdrawal but that’s more likely to cause insomnia, and then he worries you may have died in front of him, but your breathing slowly returning to regular and your snoring assure him you’re alive. Well, barely.

He has to stay overnight, how can he just leave you like this? Tomorrow will probably be worse, you can’t be alone by yourself right now. He’s not sure if he should pull a blanket over you, take your shoes off and rest your head more comfortably on a pillow. He decides to leave you, worried if he takes one thing off he may not be able to stop.

But he should probably get something to help you, right? And he needs a glass of water himself. Your kitchen opens right into the living room so it’s easy to find. He pours himself an ice cold glass, sipping it as he walks back to you and settles in an armchair across from the sofa you’re passed out on. Your place isn’t really decorated; he can see lighter squares against your walls, and wonders if you sold those pieces of if you’ve recently moved and a previous tenant took their frames.

Maybe you’re an artist; he’s heard artists are tortured, a lot of them do drugs, or maybe a musician; he should probably check your bedroom to be sure, just to learn about you so tomorrow he can get you the appropriate help.

There are only two doors, one leading to the bathroom. He’s immediately drawn to your medicine cabinet to check if you’ve got anything here, because if you do, he needs to get rid of it. He finds more bottles of sleeping pills than needed and a prescription for depression or anxiety meds, making a mental note to flush the sedatives down the toilet in a few hours; not now, he doesn’t want to wake you.

Adjacent to the bathroom is what he assumes if your bedroom door, which he is right about, and as messy as expected (he wondered how your living room, kitchen and bathroom appeared tidy enough—if you were in this state often, you’d definitely be unable to maintain even basic cleaning). Maybe you didn’t use those rooms. Not even the bathroom?

Clothes are scattered on the floor and pillows and blankets have been thrown off the bed, sheets too, leaving a bare mattress with a small bloodstain on it. A desk sits by the window, looking out to just another red brick apartment complex, with a broken laptop and scraps of paper cluttering the surface and the ground, a small bin overflowing with paper and broken pens.

He finds a manuscript laying on the floor—so you’re a writer—and finally he can put a name to your face. Should he clean your room, or is that really weird? In less than an hour he’s developing this caring instinct, and he tells himself it’s just his job, Captain America wanting to help everyone and all, he’s a superhero after and before all.

Steve gets another cold glass of water and settles in his seat across from you. For the first time tonight, you look at peace; your eye lids aren’t moving as rapidly, your breathing is steady and deep, your limbs aren’t trembling, muscles aren’t cramped, and your wild sweating has slowed, though he can still even see the layer sticking to your skin.

***

When you peel your eyes open, you’re grateful for the overcast weather, though you’re still a little blinded by the light. You feel like pure shit: weak and sore with a pounding headache and overwhelming nausea. You turn your head to vomit off the couch, surprised to land it in a bucket waiting for you and not your stained carpet. Blinking is hardly helping as you try to get your lashes to unstick each time they flutter. Your heartbeat is slow, slow enough that were you feeling more aware, it would concern you, and you wonder if you’re dying.

You’re hardly regaining full consciousness when your gaze finally lands on a man sitting across from you. You scream as you sit up and jump further back into the couch, but you can’t hold yourself up for long before you tumble back to the cushions, your shoulder hitting the edge making you wince in pain and heavy head lolling over the armrest, straining your neck.

“Relax, relax, you’re gonna hurt yourself, you need to calm down. I’m Steve,” he introduces himself in a friendly manner but he doesn’t smile, instead scanning your face with furrowed brows like he’s looking for any injuries.

He looks like the man from last night, yeah, and it takes you a few moments to grasp that he’s Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. Your breathing rate increases as your mind races to find a reason as to why Captain America is in your apartment. You vaguely remember being turned away again by Sharon last night, and you remember someone mentioning she was dealing some more serious shit than what you needed, had he found out about that? Thought you were an accomplice? Or maybe you were in danger; maybe Sharon had found out you knew and was going to kill you, and he was here for protection. Did you do something really illegal last night to the point one of the world’s greatest superheroes had to watch over you?

“I know who you are what are you doing here?” you plead for an answer, desperation coating your tone as your heart beats wildly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he coos, taking a step towards you and keeping his hands visible, like approaching a stray dog, “I was really, really concerned about you last night, I couldn’t in good faith leave you, I had to make sure you got home safe.”

But… it’s the morning. Did he stay all night? You kind of hope he did instead of leaving and somehow breaking into your place when you were passed out, if anything.

You’re shaking, and you can’t tell if it’s from withdrawal or if you’re scared. But why would you be scared? You have the world’s greatest protector concerned with your health and safety. Something about him is unsettling, and at first you think it’s just your agitation finding reasons for anxiety when there are none. He was just being nice, being so much more helpful than you could have ever asked for, but you can’t help but wonder, wouldn’t he have better things to do? More serious threats to take care of? Why would an Avenger prowl the streets and take such an interest in a random woman rather than an inter-dimensional threat?

Something just isn’t sitting right, and you can’t tell if it’s your scattered imagination or a real possibility of danger.

⍟

[taglist; @cjand10, @pr300877, fill out this form if you’d like to be added]

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Rules

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Your risky flying seriously pisses off your instructor at Top Gun and you're about to find out why.

CW: age gap (20-25 years), angsty angst - you've been warned <3

WC: 1600+

“What were you thinking?” Maverick roars, storming into the women’s locker room. “Are you insane?”

“What the hell are you doing in here?” you yell in outrage. Thankfully, the room is empty and you’ve already changed.

“You could have died!” he shouts, slamming the side of his fist into a locker on his way toward you.

“I’m fine!” you protest. “Pilots make controlled landings with one engine all the damn time.”

“You were not in control!” His voice echoes around the room.

“I landed, didn’t I?”

Maverick stops before he’s reached you, bringing a fist to his face as if he’s trying to temper his rage. He lowers his gaze, shaking his head while trying to breathe through the episode. His jaw is clenched tightly as he glances up at you from underneath his furrowed eyebrows.

You hadn’t set out to anger him but, if you were being honest, his reaction doesn’t altogether upset you. You’ve had a crush on your instructor since he walked into the hangar on your first day at Top Gun, but he’s displayed no romantic interest in you whatsoever. In fact, his interactions with you have all been strictly professional and have always occurred in public.

The fact that he is so distraught over your risky landing that he’s burst into the women’s locker room to reprimand you shows that he has reasonably strong feelings about whether you live or die. Which you appreciate.

Maverick breathes out slowly. “You put yourself and your crew in jeopardy,” he says hoarsely. “I can’t have that happen on my watch,” he adds, his jaw shifting as he tries to keep it steady.

“Captain Mitchell, I’m telling you, I had full control” –

“You disobeyed a direct order!” His voice begins to rise again as he steps closer to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “With all due respect, sir,” you say, “it was the wrong one.”

“That’s not for you to decide!” he shouts. “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

“I didn’t want to lose the plane –” you start, but he interrupts you.

“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses.

You sigh. “Fine, sir. I didn’t want to punch out and be grounded for the next six months doing rehab.”

“No, you’d rather leave here in a body bag,” he says with contempt.

You look down, affected by the hostility in his tone. “It won’t happen again,” you respond quietly.

“You’re damn right it won’t,” he says aggressively, taking another step toward you.

You bite your lip, glancing up at him guiltily. You’re surprised to see the tears in his eyes that he’s desperately trying to blink away. “Please don’t kick me out,” you whisper.

He presses his lips together into a thin line and gives his head a slight shake. “I should,” he says, running a hand over his mouth. “But you’re my best pilot.”

You take a shallow breath, feeling the tension in the room as if it were a physical thing. “Thank you,” you mutter, not sure if you’re thanking him for calling you his best pilot or for not stripping you of your wings.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and you take the opportunity to study him. He’s still in his flight suit which means he came straight here after landing his own jet. His stern expression has softened a touch, although his jaw is still set, and his light eyes seem to be searching for something to look at other than you.

You try in vain to ignore how sexy he looks despite the animosity twisting his features. You’ve wanted him for so long that it almost hurts to look at him. He’s nearly twice your age, and yet, somehow, that only makes him hotter. The fact that he takes his position of authority so seriously that his gaze has never lingered on you for longer than a second, despite your not-so-subtle flirting at the Hard Deck several nights this week, makes him practically irresistible – you haven’t met many men in your life who’ve been immune to your charms. You’ve fantasized about him enough that this entire scenario feels like just another one of your daydreams, except it’ll likely end much sooner than you’d like.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Maverick says quietly, his voice breaking over the last few words. He closes his eyes for a moment.

He glances back at you and your heart starts racing when your eyes meet. He watches you steadily and you feel as though you might melt under the intensity of his gaze. This is the longest he’s ever maintained eye contact, but you’ll be damned if you look away first. You lick your lips, biting into them nervously, and Maverick’s gaze flits down to witness the action.

Your breath catches when his eyes linger on your mouth. The way he tilts his head before glancing back into your eyes makes your head spin. You want him to step closer, but he obstinately keeps his distance, despite the aching look in his eye.

You decide to throw caution to the wind, peeling your back away from the cold steel of the locker behind you. You take a step forward, lifting your eyes to meet his once more.

His breathing quickens, but he still watches you without looking away – something he’s never allowed himself to do before. “Y/N,” he cautions, furrowing his eyebrows.

You take the desperation in his voice as a sign that he is conflicted, so you draw nearer.

“Y/N,” he repeats, this time in a whisper. You’ve gotten so close that you can feel his breath warm your cheek, but Maverick isn’t stepping away.

You swallow, stretching out your neck to bring your lips closer to his. You feel the violent flurry of butterflies as they descend upon your insides like a swarm of furious locusts. “Captain Mitchell,” you manage to utter.

“Y/N,” he says more forcefully. You feel his hands close around your arms, his grip tightening as he takes a step away from you. “We can’t,” he breathes, holding you at arm’s length.

You stare at him as his façade falls apart. The longing he’s tried so hard to suppress is written all over his face. You understand his reservations but, ultimately, you just want him too much. And now that you know he wants you too, no quantity of moral misgivings is going to stop you. You take a breath and then a defiant step forward. His outstretched arms yield easily as you advance and you can tell that his self-control is hanging by a thread. You lift your face to look at him.

Maverick’s hands slide up your arms, his chest rising and falling at a quickening pace. You feel his fingers skim over your shoulders and glide up your neck until he’s holding your face in his hands. He closes his eyes, letting his forehead meet yours as his ragged breaths warm the space between your lips and his.

Your eyes are half-closed, watching his lips part slowly. But the moment his mouth brushes over yours, your eyes flutter closed and you sink into him instinctively. The force of the kiss is dizzying. Maverick moves forward, absorbing you as the two of you slam into the lockers in behind with impossible force. The impact rattles the metal and the clatter reverberates around the empty room.

His tongue curves into your open mouth as you let out a small gasp, while his hand grips your hip, pressing you into the locker. His mouth moves over yours hungrily, as though kissing you is hardly enough, although the soft touch of his fingers as they glide down the side of your neck is the perfect counterpart to his aggressive kissing style.

But just as his hand begins to slip under your shirt, Maverick pulls away. He turns his back to you, holding a hand to his mouth as he breathes heavily into the silence.

“Maverick” – you start, but he holds up a hand, turning to look at you with a grim expression.

“I have to go,” he says so quietly that his voice cracks.

You stare at him in alarm even as he doesn’t move from the spot.

Maverick closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. “I am twice your age, Y/N,” he says.

You swallow anxiously. “So?”

He scoffs, meeting your gaze. “I am your instructor. There are rules.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Since when does Pete Mitchell care about the rules?”

“I care about this one.”

You hold his gaze as he watches you, his teeth grazing his bottom lip, his breathing still uneven from his momentary lapse in self-regulation. “What do you care about more?” you ask quietly.

He flinches slightly as if your words have stung him. “I think you know,” he responds in a whisper, trying to break eye contact but, even as his head turns away, his gaze remains fixed on you.

Your heart is close to leaping right out of your body, but still, you shake your head.

He lets out an unsteady sigh, setting his jaw as he watches you wistfully. “If I don’t walk out right now,” he says, “I won’t be able to walk out at all.”

You feel the whirlwind intensify inside of you. “Then don’t.”

He chuckles, glancing back at you and, for a moment, you think that he might close the gap between the two of you in half a second, but he does no such thing. Instead, he says, “I am leaving because I care about you.” He gives you one last, heartbreaking look. “And you deserve better than this.”

Read Part 2

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[angrybell]

The West - including the Biden Administration, the United Nations, the EU, and a host of “liberal” democracies - put the gun in the hand of the Hamas terrorist who killed her. They have excused, ignored, and funded Hamas and PA. They do this under the guise of “humanitarian” donations.

All those donations have done have ensured that something which should have been settled in one war in 1949 continues to this day. No other nation on this planet has had to deal with a situation like this. No other set of “refugees” are treated like the Arabs who fled during the 1948 - 1949 Israeli War of Independence.

Gina is dead because the rest of the world never said “enough”, the matter has been decided and moved on. They never required the Egyptians, Jordanians, Syrians, and Lebanese to end the apartheid practices, practices which deny basic liberties to people who are born with their borders from attaining, among other things, citizenship, employment in their chosen professions, ownership of land, and host of other things that reduced the Arabs to islands of concentration refugee camps in Arab countries.

Egypt and Jordan bear particular blame. Both controlled sections of occupied Israel, sections that they cynically renamed as colonizers do. Changing the Judea and Samaria into “The West Bank” while Egypt kept the Gaza Strip. Both had the power to establish a “Palestinian State”. Neither did. Rather they incorporated the land into their countries but denied the people living there full citizenship. They keep the camps quiet by promising them that they would eventually help them establish a “Palestinian” state once Israel had been eradicated.

And the West allowed this status quo to remain. They allowed and funded a network of refugee camps to exist. They turned a blind eye when they were transformed into cesspools of hate, preaching revenge against an enemy that had the temerity to not roll over and die. UNWRA schools for generations have taught antisemitism that even Hitler would say was over the top.

So, financed by the west, with no incentive to do anything but remain obdurate and unwilling to compromise, fermented terror groups, each more extreme than the other, sometimes only distinguished by whether they were Marxist in their ideology or whether they were Islamist.

No matter what atrocity, the money never stopped flowing to the Arabs. Raid across the border? Here’s your money. Smash the head of a baby open with a Kalashnikov becuase you don’t think the Jewish baby is worth the cost of a bullet? Here’s money to pay for more. They always claim that the money is subject to oversight, to make sure what it is not spent on anything but “humanitarian” goods. But the fact of the matter remains that every dollar, pound, duetschmark, and euro that the Arabs don;t have to have to spend on infrastructure is one that they can spend on the next bomb, suicide attacker, rocket, or rifle.

And, for all the “humanitarian” supplies that are purchased with the West’s money, does it make it to the, supposedly, innocent Gazans? Most of it doesn’t. Hams doesn’t even try to hide it. They released a video showing how they took pipes meant for Gaza’s water infrastructure and turned them into rockets. What did the west do? Protested Israel’s attempt to deprive Hamas of more materials to built rockets and tunnels.

And is Hamas ever held accountable for what it does? Have the Bow Street runners ever tried to serve a warrant on one of theirs when they visit the UK?

No.

Instead they target, harass, and hold back Israel. When Israel had the gall to destroy the nuclear weapons facility at Osirak, was it congratulated? No. Reagan with held weapons supplies.

Has Biden ever turned off the funds to Hamas prior to the most recent attack? I can’t find any evidence of that. Actually, we may still be funding the UNWRA camps right now. The progressive do a good show of commiserating with Israel and the Jews when Hamas kills Jews. Personally, I think they like seeing dead Jews. I think it allows the progressives show some moral outrage.

But is it followed up by anything concrete? Not really. They say “oh we’re sorry your people died. … But no, you can’t go in and finish off the people who kill your people. You have to follow all the rules that the terrorists brazenly ignore or we will sick the ICC - which admits it has no jurisdiction but is willing to say it does have jurisdiction despite its own rules - on you so that your people will be subject to arrest if they travel anywhere.

Is that unfair? I don’t really care.

Progressives/Liberals, whatever they are called, don’t care about Jews unless its how much the Jews are donating to their campaigns. The fact that Reform Judaism does not recognize this is as serious a lapse as when the American Jewish community gave FDR a pass for not calling out Hitler’s treatment of the Jews prior to and during the war. We as a Jewish community in the US and the world need to recognize that blind obedience to leftist groups is not something we should be doing, and quite frankly, is not something we will survive given the bigotry festering those parties which is becoming more and more mainstream.

Don’t believe me? Ilham Omar and Rashida Tlaib are congresswomen who have repeatedly made it clear they hate the Jews. And they have been barely censured. They have been funded by the Democratic Party and suffered no lack of support in primary season.

The argument is always that Israel hasn’t gone far enough to appease the Arabs. What more did Israel have to do to show they would appease them than when they put Jerusalem on the table back during the Clinton Administration’s brokered talks. Arafat rejected it because it wasn’t enough. He wanted an undefined more.

And the argument is even more ridiculous when it comes to Hamas. Hamas’ charter and statements are clear: they will not negotiate any settlement with Israel. Their goal is the destruction of the Jewish state and the removal or death of all Jews between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea. Incidentally, for those who don’t know, that is exactly what the various terror groups mean when they say “From the River to the Sea, Palestine shall be free.” Its is a statement of intent to commit genocide.

But the West keeps trying to a force a settlement where the PA and Hamas do not want a settlement. Only Israel does. That has been the same story since 1947 when the UN tried to create two states and failed. It failed, not because the Jewish yishuv rejected the plan. They accepted the plan even though it would mean the loss of Jersusalem and a small country bisected in part by an Arab state filled with people who had demonstrated history of trying to kill them. No, the Arabs rejected the proposal.

A Hamas coward killed her. But the West handed him the loaded weapon.

[wren-kitchens]

happy halloween! this is an idea me and stiff were talking about last night and of course I forgot about it until the very last minute soo

“your costume is stupid, by the way.”

jimmy squawks in surprise, almost falling over his own feet as he stumbles backwards from the voice. he knows even before he looks that it’s joel—who else would go out of their way to let him know that his ‘costume’ is stupid. he can’t decide whether or not to be offended by this—after all, it isn’t even a costume. 

every halloween, jimmy has debated going as his true form- as a canary, and every halloween, jimmy has backed out and gone in one of the cheap costumes he found at the corner shop. after all, what if people found out that he is a canary? what would they think if they knew they had an omen of death in their house? maybe they’d connect the dots, just as jimmy has, and they’d realise that jimmy is more than just clumsy- than just unlucky. 

but this halloween, jimmy confessed about being unsure whether to wear his ‘costume’ or just use the same dracula one that still has pizza stains from last year. joel being joel, of course, told him that it’s no use getting het up about some silly old costume, and that he should wear what he wants. (joel also said he’d look dumb either way, but it was said with love and jimmy is choosing to ignore it.)

and so.. here he is. in all his canary glory. big ol’ omen of death, ready to bring all his friends to their graves. this was a very bad idea.

“I thought you said to wear what I wanted?” jimmy says, with a distinct lack of the indignation he was trying to muster.

“yeah but- canaries aren’t scary.” joel (who has come as a werewolf this year—tail, ears and everything) is grinning. there’s a distinct fondness to it that seems entirely unconscious, and jimmy can’t exactly take the attempted insult to heart.

“yes they are!” jimmy scowls. that kind of thinking is going to get joel killed someday. “besides, it’s not like youroutfit is scary either.”

joel splutters, and jimmy can’t help the snort at how offended he looks. “wh- i’m a wolf! i’m so scary!”

“you look more like a puppy.” jimmy teases. “you’re less scary and more.. cute.”

joel’s jaw drops and jimmy laughs. it’s been so long, he realises, since he’s been able to laugh so genuinely about something.

“okay, mr canary.” joel says, folding his arms. “at least dogs can actually hurt you.”

the nickname of ‘mr canary’ hits jimmy like a smack in the face. “canaries mean that death is coming. they’re dangerous- more dangerous than a dog.”

joel scoffs. “lad- canaries stop death. they actually prevent danger.”

it’s as if all the air has been knocked out of jimmy’s lungs. “they- they what?” he manages.

“they stop death.” joel repeats, gentler. he’s clearly confused as to why this elicited such a reaction from jimmy, but he keeps going. “y’know they- when they’re in the mines, they warn the miners of gas, so the miners can get out before they all die. canaries stop death.”

and- fuck. he had it so wrong all this time. all these years of fearing for the lives of his friends simply because he was with them, all these years of believing that his very existence was a curse to those around him, all these years of hating who he was..

it was all a lie.

canaries stop death.

“so see, your costume is-“

joel doesn’t manage to finish his sentence because jimmy is upon him, burying his face in joel’s hair, wrapping his arms around him, tears pouring down his face. all this time, all this time.

“thank you.” jimmy whispers through his grief.

“‘course dude.” joel whispers back, his own voice breaking a little. what a sap. “I, uh- it isn’t a costume, is it?”

“how could you tell?” jimmy laughs a little, and he’s still crying, but he’s so happy.

“just- just a hunch.” joel jokes back, squeezing him tighter. “do you- do you wanna go somewhere a little more private, or are you cool to sob in front of the punch bowl a bit more?”

jimmy snorts as he pulls back and wipes his eyes. “the punch should be left alone in this time of crisis.”

[deadlyflames]

This is a playlist I made for a fic I'm working on to explore an au post 3x09 where Klaus actually reacts to the MFG recruiting Mikael to try to kill him. And things go down hill for everyone from there.

This is definitely a dark (kinda toxic) version of Klonnie, but I like dark ships ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Let Me Crawl Inside Your Veins

I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME - Choke ~ "if I could burn this town, I wouldn't hesitate to smile while you suffocate and die"

MILCK - Devil Devil ~ "to think I would ever settle for that devious dance between you and me"

Scissor Sisters - I Can’t Decide ~ "I can't decide whether you should live or die"

Melanie Martinez - Tag, You’re It ~ "little bit of poison in me, I can taste your skin in my teeth"

Shinedown - I Own You ~ "strip down, show me flesh and bone, cause now I own you"

Nicole Dollanganger - Dog Teeth ~ "you draw blood just to taste it, you hold bones just to break them"

Depeche Mode - Corrupt ~ "you'd be calling out my name, begging me to play my games"

Florence + The Machine - Seven Devils ~ "I've come to burn your kingdom down, and no fires and no lakes can put the fire out"

Sickick - Mind Games ~ "once I grip onto your mind and soul your brightness starts to dim"

Ellise - Nightmares ~ "so sick of thinking of all the things you need from me, who you think that I should be"

I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME - Bleed Magic ~ "to drain you, and bleed your magic out"

Blood Red Shoes - God Complex ~ "you left me high and you left me dry, then you fed me to the wolves"

Shayfer James - Villainous Thing ~ "cause youre a villainous thing, and I don't think anyone knows"

Digital Daggers - The Devil Within ~ "I'm gonna make you suffer, this hell you put me in, I'm underneath your skin, the devil within"

Muse - Undisclosed Desires ~ "I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart"

Valerie Broussard - A Little Wicked ~ "to that king I will bow, at least for now; one of these days a-comin', I'm gonna take that boy's crown"

Miike Snow - Genghis Khan ~ "but you can't be free, cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene"

Blue Foundation - Eyes on Fire ~ "and I'm not scared of your stolen power, see right through you any hour"

Rosenfeld - I Want To ~ "your on my mind, been there all night, I've been missing seeing my midnight queen"

renforshort - mind games ~ "taking up my headspace, sleeping in your brain, I swear this boy is deadly, he loves these silly games"

Air Traffic Controler - This Is Love ~ "you could kill me and you should, I'm an idiot for thinking this was anything but blood"

BANKS - Beggin For Thread ~ "strapped down to something that you don't understand, don't know what you were getting yourself into"

Three Days Grace - I Hate Everything About You ~ "I hate everything about you, why do I love you?"

Halsey - Hold Me Down ~ "I sold my soul to a three-piece and he told me I was holy, he's got me down on both knees, but it's the devil that's tryna hold me down"

The Bravery - Hatef - - k ~ "I will show no mercy for you, you had no mercy for me, the only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly"

Florence + The Machine - Howl ~ "drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart, my fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in"

Troye Sivan - BITE ~ "you can coax the cold right out of me, drape me in your warmth"

Daughter - Landfill ~ "'cause this is torturous, electricity between both of us, and this is dangerous, 'cause I want you so much, but I hate your guts"

Super Pipo - I Wanna Be Your Slave ~ "I wanna make you quiet, I wanna make you nervous, I wanna set you free but I'm too fucking jealous"

girl in red - bad idea! ~ "you pushed me up against my wall, threw my clothes down on the floor, 'darling, are you ready for more?'"

Nine Inch Nails - Closer ~ "I wanna fuck you like an animal, my whole existence is flawed, you get me closer to God"

Halsey - Young God ~ "there's a light in the crack that's separating your thighs, and if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight"

SIAMES - The Wolf ~ "out of my head, of my heart and my mind, 'cause I can feel how your flesh now is crying out for more"

Lana Del Ray - Once Upon a Dream ~ "yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem, but if I know you, I know what you'll do, you'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream"

Dutch Melrose - RUNRUNRUN ~ "run for your life, gonna tear out your heart, it'll always be mine, oh, there she go losing my head, say you'll love me to death"

Melanie Martinez - Toxic ~ "with a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride, you're toxic, I'm slippin' under, with a taste of a poison paradise, I'm addicted to you, don't you know that you're toxic?"

Aesthetic Perfection - Big Bad Wolf ~ "because, my dear, you look so good, you're good enough to eat, I'll never let you, once I have sunk in my teeth into you"

AURORA - A Dangerous Thing ~ "something about you is soft like an angel, and something inside you is violence and danger, I knew from the moment we met, you are a dangerous thing"

Reignwolf - I Want You ~ "I get the feeling that you just don't understand, I'm crying wolf and I'll always be your man"

BANKS - Waiting Game ~ "what if the way we started made it something cursed from the start? what if it only gets colder? would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this was smart?"

The Brobecks - If You Like It Or Not ~ "oh my girl, just give me a chance, I don't want to explain, I just want to dance on the graves, on the graves of every girl that I knew before you, they're all dead to me too"

Zella Day - Shadow Preachers ~ "I close my eyes, just close the door, you want a minute, I'll give you more, maybe I don't want you either, we're both unsettled, nighttime creatures"

Neon Trees - Your Surrender ~ "I got close to your skin while you were sleeping, I taste the salt on your hands, I reached out to touch you, the morning light disarms you, won't you let me in?"

Charli XCX - enemy ~ "you’re the only one who knows the way I’m really feelin’, now it’s really clear to me, you could do a little damage, you could cut me deeper, maybe you’re my enemy"

Sleeping At Last - Dark Horse ~ "So you wanna play with magic, girl you should know what youre falling for, baby do you dare to do this"

Billie Eilish - ocean eyes ~ "I'm scared, I've never fallen from quite this high, falling into your ocean eyes"

The Neighbourhood - A Little Death ~ "I want you to touch me there, make me feel like I'm breathing, feel like I'm human"

Of Monsters and Men - Silhouettes ~ "a thousand silhouettes dancing on my chest, no matter where I sleep, you are haunting me"

Hozier - NFWMB ~ "give your heart and soul to charity, 'cause the rest of you, the best of you, honey, belongs to me"

Melanie Martinez - Carousel ~ "and it's all fun and games 'til somebody falls in love, but you already bought a ticket and there's no turning back now"

Muse - I Belong to You ~ "How much pain has cracked your soul? How much love would make you whole? You're my guiding lightning strike"

Billie Eilish - hostage ~ "let me crawl inside your veins, I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain, it's not like me to be so mean, you're all I wanted, just let me hold you like a hostage"

BOBI ANDONOV, Son Lux - Smoke - Son Lux Remix ~ "now you got me where you want me cause I'm on the ropes, baby, don't make me rush, 'cause I only wanna save you slow and breathe you in like smoke"

Taylor Swift - Wildest Dreams ~ "Nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take me down, he's so tall and handsome as hell, he's so bad, but he does it so well"

The Civil Wars - Poison and Wine ~ "oh, your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine, you think your dreams are the same as mine, oh, I don't love you, but I always will"

Stateless - Bloodstream ~ "I think I might've inhaled you, I could feel you behind my eyes, you've gotten into my bloodstream, I could feel you flowing in me"

Beyoncé - Crazy In Love - Remix ~ "it's the way that you know what I thought I knew, it's the beat that my heart skips when I'm with you, but I still don't understand just how your love can do what no one else can"

Måneskin - FOR YOUR LOVE ~ "I wanna be a good man and see you smile, and I wanna swim between your thighs, I wanna fuck you 'til you scream and cry, I wanna hold you in my arms tonight"

Florence + The Machine - Cosmic Love ~ "The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, you've left me in the dark, no dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight in the shadow of your heart"

Fall Out Boy - The Last Of The Real Ones ~ "I am a collapsing star with tunnel vision, but only for you, my head is stripped just like a screw that’s been tightened too many times, when I think of you"

Paris Paloma - the fruits ~ "As you eat it up whole, my body and my blood, you've claimed it now, so come drink up"

Tamino - Persephone ~ "indeed, it's wrong to keep you near me, one could call me cruel and deceiving, but in your sacred air I am full of light, your loving arms are the true delight"

Halsey - Graveyard ~ "it's funny how the warning signs can feel like they're butterflies, 'cause I keep diggin' myself down deeper, I won't stop 'til I get where you are"

Tom Odell - Can’t Pretend ~ "oh, feel our bodies grow, and our souls they play, yeah love I hope you know how much my heart depends"

Lana Del Ray - Dark Paradise ~ "every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise, no one compares to you, I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side"

Arctic Monkeys - R U Mine? ~ "satisfaction feels like a distant memory, and I can't help myself, all I wanna ever say is, 'Are you mine?'"

Avril Lavigne - I Fell In Love With The Devil ~ "got me playin' with fire, baby, hand me the lighter, tastes just like danger, chaotic anger"

Hozier - Sunlight ~ "I had been lost to you, sunlight, and flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight, oh, your love is sunlight"

Fleurie - Love and War ~ "broken pieces of the night, sing like hollow lullabies, you and I, always in disguises; lover, hunter, friend and enemy, you will always be every one of these"

Tamer - Beautiful Crime ~ "take what you need, say your goodbyes, I gave you everything and it's a beautiful crime"

The Crane Wives - Pretty Little Things ~ "but trust is now something I make people earn, so I'm not inclined to just give it away to a pair of blue eyes with some nice things to say"

alt-J - Breezeblocks ~ "please don't go, I'll eat you whole, I love you so, I love you so, I love you so"

Billie Eilish - Bored ~ "givin' you what you're beggin' for, givin' you what you say I need, I don't want any settled scores, I just want you to set me free"

Steve Lacy - Dark Red ~ "why I feel this way, I don't know, baby I think of her so much, it drives me crazy, I just don't want her to leave me"

Melanie Martinez - EVIL ~ "took me way too long to put this to bed, lovin' you was lethal, guess that makes me evil"

Set It Off - The Haunting ~ "no one will love you like I did, will touch you like I did, so good luck finding something better"

Olivia Rodrigo - Can’t Catch Me Now ~ "I'm in the trees, I'm in the breeze, my footsteps on the ground, you'll see my face in every place, but you can't catch me now"

Ramin Karimloo - You’ll Be Back ~ "when you're gone, I'll go mad, so don't throw away this thing we had, 'cause when push comes to shove, I will kill your friends and family to remind you of my love"

Taylor Swift - my tears ricochet ~ "and I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want, just not home, and you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones"

Arctic Monkeys - 505 ~ "when you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect? I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck, or I did last time I checked"

Olivia Rodrigo - vampire ~ "I see the parties and the diamonds sometimes when I close my eyes, six months of torture you sold as some forbidden paradise, I loved you truly, gotta laugh at the stupidity"

Taylor Swift, Bon Iver - exile~ "we always walked a very thin line, you didn't even hear me out (you didn't even hear me out), you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)"

The Neighbourhood - Baby Came Home ~ "baby just came back around, told me she's leaving this town, said she needs time to explore, she said I can't love her no more"

Taylor Swift - Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve ~ "I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep, the wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign, I regret you all the time"

The xx - Fiction ~ "were we torn apart by the break of day? you're more than I can believe would ever come my way"

Paramore - Interlude: I’m Not Angry Anymore ~ "I'm not angry anymore, well, sometimes I am, I don't think badly of you, well, sometimes I do"

Black Math - Flesh and Bone ~ "this bleeding heart that's in my hands, I fell apart, I walk alone, beside myself, nowhere to go, my flesh and bone"

Penelope Scott - Feel Better ~ "of course I don't wanna feel better! can you fucking imagine?! no one's ever gonna love me like that again, I don't wanna get over it, I wanna rip the stars to shreds"

Coldplay - The Scientist ~ "come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry, you don't know how lovely you are, I had to find you, tell you I need you, tell you I set you apart"

Florence + The Machine - Shake It Out ~ "and it's hard to dance with the devil on your back, and given half the chance would I take any of it back? it's a fine romance, but it's left me so undone, it's always darkest before the dawn"

[futbol16]

Happy New Year  • Alexia Putellas

Request:  Could you write a fic where reader posts a picture of her kissing someone but you can't see who, Alexia also posts a picture in the same location and fans go crazy trying to figure out if the person reader is kissing is Alexia

Word count: 930

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand for the umpteenth time and you quietly groan as you reach for it. Alexia shifts in your arms as you do so, tiredly opening her eyes.

“Are you this popular every morning?” she sleepily jokes to which you only hum with a nod of your head.

“But I haven’t been on the pitch the past week and we didn’t have media day” you mumble as you look back at her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion “I don’t know what’s going on” the brunette next to you lets out a breathy chuckle and moves further into you to burry her head in your shoulder like that would help her get back to sleep. You smile down at her before you unlock your phone, giving yourself a minute to adjust to the brightness. Somewhat aimlessly you scroll through the notifications until one of them catches your eye, an article of sorts.

Loved-up Ballon D'or winners?

Barcelona superstars Y/N Y/L/N and Alexia Putellas found love on the pitch?

Read more

“What?” you murmur to yourself, the midfielder momentarily looking up from her place in your neck but you shake your head at her. You weren’t sure if this was one of the many dating rumors or someone actually found out about the two of you. 

The device in your hand vibrates again and you finally click back to your most recent post that the fans seem to be hooked on. It wasn’t a usual post from you, actually it was one you thought over long and hard whether you should post it or not, but you have. You stare at the picture for a second with a small smile. Although not much was visible other than you and the sea behind you, it was very obvious that you had someone in your arms. 

That someone was Alexia, but you didn’t think the fans would somehow figure that out because you couldn’t see her face in the photo. What you could see though was your arms around a girl’s waist, said girl’s arms around your neck holding you close in a slightly leant back position. And with your own head covering her face it didn’t take a genius to realize the two of you were kissing.

Still, people couldn’t have just guessed who was in your arms, not without proof and so you decide to take a look at the comments of your Instagram post.

Pretty sure our favorite woso dating rumor just got confirmed! Look at the location tagged and then Alexia’s post!

¡Ay dios mío, estaban en la misma playa! (Oh my God, they were on the same beach)

This is the best thing today after Christen’s Preath photo dump!

You groan aloud as you mentally facepalm yourself. You knew it wasn’t smart of you to post the location of the picture but you hadn’t thought Alexia would post anything. But she had, a picture of her standing next to a palm tree with a sign pointing to the direction of the beach you had posted your picture from. She does look really pretty though, but when does she not.

“What is it mi amor?” your girlfriend seems much more awake now as she looks at you questioningly and you wordlessly hand her your phone. She stares at you confused for a second until you voice your thoughts.

“I think they’ve found out about us” you quietly tell her, afraid of any type of reaction. The two of you hadn’t talked a lot about going public, both of you were very private about your personal lives and you wanted to keep your relationship to yourselves. Only your closest friends knew about it, your teammates. 

“I’m sorry Ale, I know this isn’t how you wanted this to go and I know we wanted to keep it quiet but I just liked the picture so much… and I ended up posting it” you start your apologies, genuine worry written all over your face. Your words die in your throat as the brunette slowly starts smiling a smile that turns into a fond look. 

“Ale? I really am sorr-” you’re cut off by her lips on yours, lips you’d never deny a kiss from and you melt into her warm body as her thumb strokes your cheek.

“It’s okay querida, it was bound to happen at some point. I’m actually happy it happened now, I know we said we wouldn’t come out to the world yet but I’ve been waiting to finally get to show you off as my girlfriend. And anyway, I probably would have posted a kiss from midnight of new years by accident” the two of you giggle at the admission and all of the worry from before leaves your body. 

“I’m surprised we kept it between us for this long, two years huh?” you cheekily smiled at her as she took you in her embrace. 

“The best two years” she gets out before she pulls you into her again and the two of you get lost in each other. 

Two days later your phone is once again going off, Alexia’s in a similar state next to yours on the coffee table. Except this time there’s nothing for the fans to figure out because your love for each other is clear as day. The picture of the two of you kissing with fireworks going off behind you is one you will cherish forever and the football community seems to feel the same way.

“Happy new year my love”

“Feliz Año Nuevo mi amor”

[cinememed]

₍ 🎞 ₎   annihilation  (2018)  rp  starters  ! featuring mature themes . some lines have been slightly adjusted for rp purposes .

some questions will ruin you if you are denied the answer long enough.

almost all of us self-destruct. in some way, in some part of our lives.

these aren't decisions, they're... impulses.

i thought i was a person. i had a life. and now i'm not so sure.

i love seeing the moon in daytime.

so weird you say that. i was about to make the exact same point.

you know he's listening right now, don't you?

okay. mistakes were made.

i keep looking for you, but you never seem to be around.

all work and no play. it’s not healthy.

i thought you were gone – gone forever.

i get really turned on when you patronize me. it's really hot.

you think i come out into the garden, pining, looking up at the sky?

are you kidding me? what do you think i do when you’re away?

i deserve a better explanation than… no explanation.

i remembered you. i remembered your face.

you probably feel dreadful. queasy. a nasty metal taste in the mouth.

so let’s cut the shit – i’m done answering questions. it’s your turn.

i can’t talk about that. you understand.

you still haven’t told me anything about what’s going on or what i’m doing here!

it's impressive to have escaped. to this point at least.

the chances are zero if i don’t even try.

it’s not simply a question of your motivation. there are processes to observe.

i was thinking we should bond or something. considering we’re travel buddies.

you get used to it. you have to accept it, because it’s there.

this is not something you do if your life is in perfect harmony.

i’m done sleeping for the night.

i’ll do it alone, if need be. you simply decide whether you’re coming with me.

you’re saying we get out by going deeper in?

my secret? is that not our secret?

none of this is possible. but it is what’s happening.

it doesn’t just hurt us, and kill us. it changes us.

it’s not exactly the first time i’ve been in your bed, or you in mine.

you know it’s not me you hate. it’s yourself.

you’re wrong. but you’re also not interested hearing in the truth.

i can’t survive these injuries. you know that.

it’s a terrible thought. to die frightened and in pain.

please. don’t ask me to do this.

i had to know what it was. what was waiting. i had to know.

it’s going to annihilate us. that’s what it is. that’s what’s waiting.

[queerbrownvegan]

Ecologies of collapse in Palestine 🇵🇸 

I don’t think we can solve the climate crisis if we can’t even decide whether or not Palestinians are going through a genocide. 

I’m afraid the [dominant] environmental movement has failed to clearly define what it means to liberate the world from an oppressive system. Removing a part of the apparatus is not systemic change. 

People have turned their backs on the United Nations 🇺🇳 for trying to call attention to the several human rights violations happening and that Israel’s government must be held accountable. Brazil 🇧🇷 government has named the incident one of the world's most terrible war crimes. Turkey 🇹🇷 has filed a lawsuit in international courts to hold the war criminal accountable. France 🇫🇷 has called for a ceasefire. None of these governments are innocent either, but it begs the question, why can't our governments take a stance against genocide?

Despite the rise of Islamophobia and antisemitism, we must continue to fight alongside our Muslim & Jewish communities, calling for an end to genocide. Critiquing an oppressive government should not be seen as antisemitic. Consuming ourselves to victimhood and weaponizing tears over the bloodshed of bodies blown up is a tool of the oppressor. A ceasefire includes the return of hostages. Validation of the count of death in Israelíes is also recognized. I don’t think many of the people asking for Free Palestine are not saying that both sides can’t grieve, but when it comes to weaponizing grief and tears to prohibit critiquing of a government, that is the issue. Media platforms are heavily censoring accounts while also perpetuating misinformation. When it comes to holding the government accountable, it seems that it can never be the case because one’s country is purely ethical and just does not exist where the majority of oppressive governments have conducted genocide, violence, and displacement under business. 

Many of you were never on the same page with liberating the world nor my work. Many of you saw Indigenous communities as museums for your curiosity and inspiration for your spiritual journeys to repackage to people who lack depth in their relationship with the land. Many of you committed to Black Lives Matter because you extracted from Black culture for your benefit and recognized you weren’t as racist as your neighbor or friend. Many of you committed to LGBTQ+ movements only to know that your rainbow started in the US and ended in the US, but anything deemed othering is unattractive. Many of you became feminist under the guise of equality but for only those who looked like you. 

But may we also have grace for those who are scared to speak up because their employers, friends, or opportunities are at the line, which could further cause them to be deprived in an economic system where people choose their ability to live and die. I’m not angry at you, nor do I know your situation, but I know my situation has allowed me to say I’ve already lost things I thought I wanted, but I’m still alive. Isn’t being alive the most sacred thing to ourselves that we don’t wish to be taken?  It wasn’t a billionaire, corporation, or institution that kept me grounded and alive. It was my community that made sure I survived.

Remember, we can solve the climate crisis by bringing awareness to the horrors unfolding in Gaza.