#please dont hate me

[save-mohamed-family]

In a humble tent, the cat "Loza" trembled from exhaustion, searching for safety amid the cold and fear. Beside her sat Abdulrahman, the kind-hearted boy who knew nothing but love and compassion.

One cold night, Loza gave birth to four tiny kittens inside the tent. Their faint cries blended with the sound of the wind, as if they were mourning the harshness of the world they had entered.

But the joy did not last long...

Abdulrahman suffered severe burns after a shell landed near the tent where he was playing.

He is now in the intensive care unit at Al-Maamadani Hospital.

Meanwhile, Loza and her little kittens wait for him every day at the entrance of the tent, missing his embrace — the small world of safety and love he once gave them.

Today,

Abdulrahman needs us, just as Loza once needed him.

He needs treatment so he can heal, smile again, and return to his little family.

Please donate to help Abdulrahman recover and come back to the life — and the little hearts — that await him every morning.

Donate to Abdulrahman here🔗 .

@bunnydracula @determinate-negation @thatdiabolicalfeminist @riding-with-the-wild-hunt

[meddeef]

Kaoru and Kojiro would have dating rumours about them spread like wildfire and Kaoru would respond like: “I can’t understand why anyone would think that” but he spends his entire day talking to Kojiro, sitting with him at lunch and fighting with him during class and he even walks home with the guy.

Like okay buddy, it’s okay to be a little in love with your best friend, no-one’s gonna hurt you..

[maladaptivewritings]

Head-canons about Ghost

Including: Appearance, domestic life quirks, and more

Simon Riley is an elusive man, unknown appearance and private life. If he were to have a life outside of the military, so to combat this predicament, this is my list of HC's and some reasonings.

Appearance

His hair is a perpetually in the awkward growth phase, he gets a buzz right before deployment. He doesn't get it cut when he returns, just letting it be. The only routine self-maintenance is shaving his face, he hates the feeling of facial hair against his mask.

Speaking of hair, his hair is a mousey blond. Growing up it was closer to bright blond until he was around fifteen; when he was assumed dead he dyed it a chestnut brown. The first time it was dyed it stained his ears for over a week, he didn't know if he would laugh or cry.

Dark eyes, like devoid of light unless the sun hits it perfectly. You'll feel him watching you from a mile away. When the light does hit it, they are a stunning ochre.

His sleeve was done during a slightly manic moment, when he returned from one of his first long missions. He did it in two sittings, most of the flames were done in the second.

He's 6'3, barefoot and 6'5 with his gear on. He wasn't tall growing up, shooting up the summer he turned 17.

Scars, the majority clustered on his hands. Picking at scabs in the field, he fidgets on the little knicks and gashes if left alone on rounds. He doesn't really he does it. His oldest is a gash on his brow, no fun story just tripped as a child, got cut when his dad started throwing shit busted his face.

His Skin is a strange neutral tone, if he were to go out in the sun he'd tan easily. If he were to tan, it would reveal freckles across his nose bridge.

Thinking about his nose, it's crooked and bent from many uneven breaks healing over time. Scar from his lip just barely reaching it.

Domestically

He hates grocery shopping, but refuses to be a hermit. He know's that he could get them delivered, but he’s too stubborn and will show up to a small corner store wearing sunglasses at night with a mask and headphones. The clerk knows not to question it at this point.

Doesn't often drink beer or wine, whiskey of course is his vice. Though if dragged to the bar he will order tequila shots, and if he actually for once gets drunk he'll order a cocktail. (Soap has a photo of Simon drinking a fishbowl)

Smells like cigarettes no matter what, He will wear cologne when home from deployment and he's mastered how to pair it. No one knows this or cares, it's his little secret. The cologne he often wears is a sweet orange, with vanilla. Laswell got it for him, She saw his traumatized ass and decided to try and help.

Refuses to go to therapy, depending on how long he's home for he may meet with Price for 'coffee' every few weeks and chat. Simon thinks Price does this with the other guys. He doesn't.

Orders food atleast once a week, normally Thursdays. Theres a pub a block away he will pick it up from on his jog, same meal every time and same time every week.

Has the cilantro tastes like soap gene, Gaz does make fun of this.

Has no clue how to feed himself when he gets back from deployment, will either snack all day or not eat at all.

Weirdly into dinosaur movies, you'd think it was a bit but genuinely loves Jurassic park.

Specifically likes rock bands that most hate because they don't fit the mold. This is mainly being petty and liking what his father would hate.

Deployment Simon

The mask is soaked in hydrogen peroxide before he left, he cleans and mends it himself. He can sew, just not well. The skull is attached with fishing wire.

Hates coffee, would rather deal with the caffeinated gum. Soap once got him a Frap as an experiment one time when they're on base. He loves them.

Traumatized as fuck, he legit will dissociate when moving locations. Price only knows, neither says anytime about it.

Dry Humor to cope, most of the jokes came from his old history teacher in secondary school. He was a former soldier during the Falklands war, his time in the military was brief because his leg was severely injured. The only good role model Simon had.

Never personalizes gear, especially guns. Finds it dumb when he see's it being done.

In his mind will make jokes about whats going on. This had led to him accidentally saying "chat clip that" after he beat his personal record for kills before being noticed. Soap will not let him live this down.

His expectations of living to see tomorrow goes from 100 to 0 real quick, willing to take tasks no one else wants. If it weren't for Riley joining on certain missions, he'd definitely be in a pauper's feild.

Mentally,

Should be on so many mood stabilizers, claims it would just be a nuisance. Medicates with energy drinks and cigarettes.

High-functioning autism, undiagnosed.

C-ptsd, obviously

High-functioning depression and anxiety.

Talks to Price, sometimes Laswell about everything going on. He doesn't realize that he's venting.

No one lets him drive, too many suicide jokes.

Very petty, Cat-of-a-man. Will force himself to like things that his father would hate, as well as to prove a point to others.

Only has like a handful of colorful things in his office and home. Most its gifts from the rest of the guys or cards from the lady across the street who he may shovel the snow for.

One-Sided beef with southern U.S. Only due to Graves anymore, but he does appreciate Sweet-Tea.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ The Legend of a Faceless Harbinger

(Imagine Headless Horseman Capitano x reader. No, I won’t elaborate.)

✧ In an unassuming village nestled by a quaint, insignificant hamlet, you lived in a humble farmhouse. A modest living, with but a few sheep and a tightly held community. Everyone knew each other in the village, for its residents were few, fostering familiarity among its inhabitants and their whereabouts. 

The villagers liked tales of premonition and the paranormal – stories of vengeful Hilichurls, weeping Seelies, or berserk Witches who burn everything in their path. However, one of the legends was about a Faceless Knight, bloodstained and brooding, with a mighty steed supporting his towering frame. Legend has it that the Knight’s armor once shone silver and pristine, but after years of bloodshed and gruesome battles, the knight’s body shifted to that of a monster; the same ones he once swore to destroy. Now faceless, monstrous, and donning a void-like helmet - the Knight rides off into the night, galloping between the living and dead. 

✧ You, on the other hand, disregarded such gossip. If the night was scary because a headless knight reigned dominion over it, then why did you always find solace in it, when the sky is clear and the stars are shining? 

You lived by the outskirts and were content taking care of your small flock of chickens and sheep. You had your fresh bread, a small basket of eggs, and homemade dairy. In the early hours of dawn, you took care of your abode, small patches of vegetables sprouting by the sunlight. And in the late hours of dusk, you sat by the windowsill from your bedroom, gazing up at the stars above. 

Yet as you silently watched the night, a hidden figure, merging with the shadows gazed back at you. His horse neighed softly until a clawed hand patted its head. 

✧ One day, a couple of sheep wandered off from your farmhouse and went missing. The weather was cloudy and the gray clouds threatened a heavy pour if you didn't hurry and found your wandering flock. With your trusty shepherd's crook, you hurried off to run into the forest hoping you'd find them somewhere nearby.

Once you reached the wild forest, it didn't take long to spot your wandering sheep, running in the direction of their baaing. They huddled close by the bushes, grazing on the grass leisurely. You smiled in silent relief, reaching closer toward them until suddenly - you halted. Amidst the dense foliage, a figure emerged, and it dawned on you that your sheep were not simply loitering there by chance. They had been intentionally led here, and at the sight of the stranger, you tensed, clutching your trusty crook. A man on horseback drew nearer, his jet-black steed carefully moving. But the figure was even taller. Dark armor and clanking chains were not as imposing as the sight of his featureless, hollow helmet met you head-on.

It was the faceless Knight. He kept his distance, but his helmet directed straight at you, wordless and careful. With a slight incline of his head, he observed your sheep turning towards you, providing you the opportunity to safely guide your flock home. And as for you? You quivered like a lamb, petrified at the sight of a man of his stature, with only the murky depths of his helmet meeting your gaze.

Thus, you fled. Pushing your sheep hastily from the forest, you didn't look back at the mancing knight. Your heart hammered and you swiftly led your animals back to your farm, locking them in their barn and fearing for your own life. 

✧ In the upcoming days, you didn’t dare to exit your house’s safety. You were convinced that you were living your last days, however, nothing amiss occurred. Instead, things got better in your farmhouse. You don’t know why, but The animals scarcely strayed, the howls of wolves seldom pierced the night, and neither hilichurls nor bothersome slimes encroached upon your land.

You felt an air of change in your quaint farmhouse, despite your sense of alarm remaining after meeting the brooding Harbinger. 

Occasionally, at the earliest hours of dawn, when you get up, you are greeted with small flowers on the steps of the house. Sometimes it’s plucked lamp grass, and at other times it’s a wreath of valberry leaves. In a state of befuddlement, you’d blink, looking back and forth around your entrance. 

You had a secret protector, and your heart yearned to thank whoever that was. 

✧ If someone was leaving you small gifts of flora and guarding your house, it was only courteous to thank them. Therefore, you came up with a plan to leave a small assortment of items in a basket as a response. From time to time, by the footsteps of your house, you’d leave a basket with fresh apples. Sometimes, it would be a loaf of bread you baked. These signs of gratitude persisted, and in return, the gifts grew in magnitude. From small bouquets to rare artifacts and even warm pelts. 

The routine of offerings and gifts became a way of silent communication with your generous benefactor.

Until one late afternoon, you heard screaming right outside your farmhouse. You dashed out of the house and noticed that the usual basket was gone. You just had it filled with homegrown fruits and baked goods, yet it was missing entirely. When you turned your attention towards the commotion, you gasped in surprise at the sight.

The same faceless Knight, in his clad black armor, dragging a kicking peasant with a firm grip. The man was kicking and screaming in horror, his wrist already marred by the Harbinger’s grip. However, what surprised you, was that the basket was in his arms.

“Please let me go-! I didn’t know! I didn’t know to whom it belonged,” - the peasant was thrown hard onto the ground right in front of your feet, the basket and its good rolling out. 

“Lies are inexcusable. And stealing deserves its punishment.” 

The Harbinger spoke firmly, marching straight at the man. Overcoming your shock, you understood - this person stole the basket of food you left, but then the receiver who protected your farmhouse all this time is… 

You shook your head, and before the faceless entity could take a step closer to the thief, you stood with your arms out - “Wait!”

The Harbinger stopped in an instant, that faceless mask going silent as the armored hand tightly closed into a fist. The peasant was shaking behind you.

“It’s not worth it, just some homegrown food anyway. P-please, let this man go.” 

“He stole what you worked hard for. That which is not meant to be his.” 

“I know, but it is not a fair punishment to spill blood in return!”

The headless harbinger let out a low rumble, his massive form towering over you and the begging thief. After a prolonged moment of tense silence, he stated his verdict.

“You were lucky to be granted mercy. Heed my words, there won’t be a next time. Go.” 

The words were short but decisive, spoken out of pure malevolence towards the one who took your offerings that were intended for him. Crawling on his knees, the man shook and thanked you both for mercy, scurrying off the ground of your farmhouse and running away. 

✧ You kneeled by the fallen basket, picking up some of the flowers and fruits that rolled to the grassy ground. As you silently picked them up, you almost flinched when an armored hand appeared in front of you, offering you assistance to get up. When you raised your gaze - a hallow, pitch-black helmet looked back at you. 

You placed your hand delicately onto his.

“Excuse me, Mr… uh, Knight. I thank you for catching the thief and my goods. But may I ask: was it you who brought those gifts by the entrance of my house?”

He remains silent for a moment, and you couldn’t tell whether he was contemplating his answer or studying every nuance of your face up close. After a long moment, he slowly nods his head "Yes." 

A sigh of relief escaped you. Partly due to your fear of the frightening figure, but also because of your suspicion about who the unseen protector of your farmhouse was.

“Then it was you who kept my rural home safe from monsters or predators.” - you nodded, remembering how your flock of sheep was huddled close and safe even when they all got lost before. “You won’t hurt me…?”

“I could never. You have my vow.” 

His voice no longer held that firm animosity it did when he spoke to the thief. Now it was low and deep. His form helped you pick up the dropped belongings and walked you back to the farm.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, a tranquil stillness enveloped the surroundings as you dutifully trailed behind him. A novel sense of anticipation washed over you, distinct from the usual apprehension. For the Harbinger, it was not his first time remaining close to the soil of your modest abode. In fact, he always remained nearby. However, he felt immense guilt for giving you such fright. 

“...I owe you an apology. I intruded on your ground when I caught the thief. But even less honorably so, I never revealed myself formally to you. I did not wish to see you scared.”  

You listened closely, witnessing the sincerity in his movements. You stood close to the pastors, the grass rustling idly by the night breeze. His ominous figure is a stark contrast to you and your cozy dwelling.

“I understand… I do not blame you. I must also apologize for my startled demeanor. I never expected it would be you who actually helped me all this time.” 

The knight tilts his head to the side, keeping a polite hand with yours as he lets you sit on the grass. Every movement he did for you was cautionary and gentle. The two of you sat on the ground, the night sky illuminating the first stars of the night. 

“I just wish to know… Why such kindness?” - you asked at last, easing up the courage to look him straight into the hollowness of his helmet. 

The anticipated question made the Harbinger go quiet. He couldn't deny it, but he found solace in watching you work. How diligently you took care of your animals, how you watered the vegetation, how you smiled joyously when you’d return with a basket full of fresh eggs. It was a tender sight, even as the harbinger maintained his distance on the forest's periphery, secretly yearning to draw nearer to you.

He wished to tell you so much. About how he finds you to be the loveliest person in all of these lands, the most sincere and hardworking. How he enjoys gazing at you the same way you gaze at the stars. Yet now, being in your proximity, the sight of your beauty up close had rendered his thoughts useless and all he could manage was:

"Perhaps I’m utterly infatuated by you."

[crimsonfrostx]

A Road Well Traveled (Azriel x Reader)

Part 1

Word Count: 1902 Warnings: None, I think

Part 2

It was a quiet night, the wind blowing softly through your hair as you walked around the city, enjoying the beautiful scenes of Velaris as you passed by. It's been a long time since you’ve been here, after all. You stop in your tracks as the way was blocked by a dark figure covered in shadows.

"A bit lost, are you?" says the suave voice of Azriel, his wings tucked in tight behind him, hazel eyes honed in on your form. You grin slowly, eyes trailing up the shadowsinger’s familiar form. "I'm never truly lost," you reply smoothly, bright eyes meeting his gaze.

He chuckles lightly, amused by your reply as he leans against a wall, his shadows billowing around him like a cloak. "Oh, you never change, do you?" he drawled in a low, velvety tone, his gaze roaming over you leisurely. "Hello, to you too, Azriel," you laughed, dropping your lightly packed bag at your feet.

Azriel's lips quirk upward into a smirk as he leans against the wall, observing you in quiet amusement. "You know," he says, "the last time I saw you, you were about ready to kick my ass for some reason." You hum, tapping your chin in thought. "I can come up with a reason now, if you prefer. Or, you can walk yourself over here and give an old friend a hug," you offer with a slow, teasing grin. 

Azriel raises an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "An old friend, huh?" He pushes off the wall and crosses the distance between you in a few easy strides. He scoops you into an embrace, his strong arms encircling you tightly. 

You squeal happily, arms circling around his neck and holding him just as tight. "It's been too long," you sigh into his shoulder, your feet kicking in the air like a small child. Azriel's arms tighten around you as he chuckles, his cheek brushing against your hair. "Much too long," he agrees, savoring the feeling of your body against his. "I've missed you, you know."

You lean into him, savoring the familiar body against yours just as much, his shadows snaking around you in greeting. "I've missed you more," you breathe out, and you're sure that you mean it. After everything that’s happened, you couldn’t imagine staying away from Azriel any longer.

Azriel presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand sliding through your hair. "There's no need for a contest," he murmurs with a smirk. When did he adapt Rhysand’s charm? You think idly for a moment, wondering if he truly has changed that much since you’ve been gone. No, surely he’s always been this way. If you remembered anything, it was Azriel’s heart stopping smile, not easily won by others. If you were lucky enough to be graced by its appearance, then you were a precious and rare sort. His shadows dance around you, twining affectionately between the two of you as if they, too, missed you.

You huff a laugh, leaning back to meet his gaze. "Don't let Cassian hear you say that. How is the big brute anyway?" You inquire, studying his facial features without stepping out of his arms. You took the chance to scan his features.

 His bronze skin was darker and as flawless as the last time you’d had seen him, his Illyrian tattoos peaking around the collar of his training leathers. The elegant planes of his face seemed sculpted and defined, you guessed it must have been from age. His inky black hair had grown longer too, the bottoms now curling around his rounded ears. Of course you noted the new sporadic scars that littered what you could see of his powerful body. 

Azriel's smirk turns into a genuine smile as he thinks of his friend. "Cassian is doing well. The same as ever, getting into trouble and causing havoc wherever he goes." He runs his thumb along your cheek, his gaze intent on your face, as if he's trying to commit every detail to memory. "Although he did mention he missed your delightful company," he adds teasingly.

You roll your eyes and step out of his hold, fixing your hair. "Of course, who wouldn't?" You send a wink his way, giggling in delight as shadowy strands wrap around your wrist. 

Azriel chuckles, his gaze lingering on your wrist as the shadowy strands twine themselves around it. He takes a step closer, eyeing the possessive gesture of his shadows with amusement. Leaning in, he murmurs near your ear, "My shadows are still quite fond of you, it seems."

"As they usually are. Really, Azriel, you should treat them better," you tease, your fingers dancing through the dark strands, still absolutely mesmerized by the mischievous shadows as the day you first saw them. 

Azriel's lips twitch in a small smirk as he watches your fingers run through his shadows. "Oh, I treat them just fine," he retorts, his gaze shifting to your fingers as they move across the tendrils. "Although, they might disagree with me if you keep doing that. They might just want to claim you for themselves."

"I'd cherish them forever," you grin up at him, dropping your hand to your side and reclaiming your bag off the street. "Now, are we going to catch up out here, or, are you going to show a lady to our High Lord's home?" you raise your eyebrows, watching him and waiting expectantly. 

Azriel chuckles, his gaze still fixated on the shadows that lingered on your wrist. "Of course, my lady," he says, the title rolling off his tongue smoothly. He gestured for you to walk ahead, the tendrils of his shadows reluctantly sliding away from you as he followed at your side.

You set an easy pace, following his guidance throughout your former city. "So, what have I missed?" You try to ask lightly, as if you hadn’t disappeared in the middle of the night without any warning. 

Azriel walks beside you , his gaze sweeping over the familiar streets of Velaris as he begins recounting what you’ve missed. "Well, Feyre and Rhys have been married for a few years now. Their little one is growing more mischievous day by day."

He glances at you, a small smile on his face. "Cassian finally found himself a mate, too. Though it's a constant struggle between them, as it always is with Cassian." You cast a sideways glance at him in surprise. "Is it this Nesta I've heard so much about? Feyre's older sister?" While away, you’ve heard whispers of the human turned High Fae, once engaged to Spring’s High Lord, now married and sharing power with Night Court’s High Lord. In addition, her older sisters’ being dragged into the middle of the Hybern mess and now High Fae as well. You were happy for Rhys, glad he had found someone to settle down with. A mate no less. 

Azriel nods, his gaze focused on the road before you. "Yes, indeed. Nesta and Cassian are an... interesting pair, to say the least." A sly smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he glances at you. "They seem to be constantly at each other's throats. I've never seen Cassian so riled up because of a female."

"It appears the Archeron’s are fascinating females," you breathe out, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. "And, you? Have you found yourself a pretty female to settle down with?" You ask innocently, though the tightness in your chest might say otherwise. You pushed the feeling to the side, hoping one of your closest friends had found his happiness.

Azriel's steps falter for a brief moment, his expression remaining carefully neutral as he looks at you. He takes a moment before replying, a hint of melancholy in his eyes that he quickly buries. "No, I haven't," he says quietly, his gaze returning to the path in front of him.

You glance away, your heart aching for him but can't stop the hope threading throughout your chest, leaving a bittersweet taste on your tongue. "You'll find someone, Az," you say quietly, eyes focusing as you near what you recognize as the Townhouse.

Azriel's jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to you briefly before looking away. "Perhaps one day," he murmurs, the tone of indifference masking the quiet ache in his heart. He stops in front of the Townhouse, gesturing for you to approach it first. "After you," he says politely, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

You pause, looking up at the building that held such fond memories of your life with your friends and family. Even the darkest parts of your past seemed easier to look back on with time. Taking a deep, centering breath, you move forward and turn the door knob. The entrance way looks the same as you remembered, crossing the threshold and putting your bag by the door, a habit you’ve learned through your travels, though you doubt you’ll have to make a hasty escape. You hope, anyway.

Azriel follows you into the Townhouse, closing the door behind him. The shadows that billowed around him fade into obscurity, blending into the corners of the room, as he watches you study the familiar surroundings. He leans against the wall, his gaze fixed on your form as you take in everything around you. "It hasn't changed much," he comments quietly, his eyes roaming over you.

You hum in agreement, a nervous energy filling you at the thought of seeing the rest of your family. "Maybe I should come back during the day. It's late," you offer weakly, glancing towards the door behind you. Thoughts of them not taking your sudden reappearance well settles over you. You couldn’t handle seeing them hate the sight of you. Not after what you’ve done to survive the last few years.

Azriel's gaze sharpens as he sees the hesitation on your face. He moves away from the wall, standing closer to you, towering over your form. "Is there something bothering you?" he asks in a low tone, his gaze searching your face. You look up, meeting his worried gaze. "It's not that, Az," you start quietly, glancing back towards where you can hear chatter and laughter, coming from the dining room. They must still have their family dinners. You weren't sure if luck was on your side, or not. "It's just been a while," you worried, your fingers twisting themselves in front of you, another habit you found hard to break.

Hazel eyes flicker towards the dining room, his expression hardening ever so slightly when he realizes where the noise is coming from. He looks back at you, noting the worry in your expression, the way your fingers twist together. He steps closer, his hands gently enveloping yours, stilling the nervous movement. "You don't have to do this tonight," he murmurs, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand.

Azriel had always been your solid ground, keeping you steady and strong in the face of whatever opponent they were pointing at. Tonight, your opponents were your family, and you weren't sure that his steady and scarred hands could keep you together this time. Before you can say anything or move, a figure rounded the corner, a surprised gasp hitting your ears. Mor breathed your name softly out into the room, and suddenly it was too late to run.

A/N: This is my first story posted here, so I'm a little nervous.

Dividers by diviniyae

[kaworumii]

went MIA but im back for now with a WIP!

took a day and a half would've been done in like 8-10 hours if i wasn't as lazy just a tiny bit lazy but ITS DONE now for the lineart and coloring...yay, also in one frame it kinda looks like they kissed, i was sweating bcuz my older brother wouldve saw and gave me a side eye

my animating is limited sadly i can only do 2 second animations but if i put the frame rate to 1 it could b 24 secs... (clip studio pro only allows 24 FRAMES AHGG)

[turiancalibrationcoil]

"i play mass effect for the plot!"

the plot:

[jollyart]

My rendition of what happened after that drunken night [part 1]/[?]

[Part2]

Listen, I know it's not the naruhina doujin, but I love these two so much and I think they deserve MORE INTERACTION AND LOVE. More parts will be posted so stay tuned!

[flesh-andsoul]

my mind sounds like static

[drroxxyred]

After 500 years, I finally finished this one

It's one of my most cursed drawings yet, I'm cringe but free

Oh god it's awful HAHAHAH

[justkitkatthings]

Baker!Simon, who retired from the task force after Johnny died because life's too short to not do what we love and our favorite masked man has a secret passion for baking. And you, with your important CEO job or whatever and unhealthy addiction to caffeine and baked goods. It was love at first bite.

Simon's bakery became your frequent on the way to work (and sometimes even on the way home because you deserve a sweet treat). Soon enough, he knew your 'usual' and had it ready before you even came in. The day you try to switch it up, he genuinely thinks something is wrong with you or you've been replaced by an imposter because his sweet'art would never. And when you try to argue with him he just slides your order even closer to you on the counter, not even making you pay for it this time.

Which only sparks him giving you free goodies even more. He just needed someone to taste test his seasonal pastry, luvie, stop being weird about it and someone ordered wrong, pretty, just take the damn coffee.

And you’re absolutely not complaining. How could you when this ruggedly handsome man who owns your favorite coffee shop gives you free stuff? But, with your job in the business world, you've learned that nothing is ever free, so you give him something to eat in return ;)

[number1epiclover]

Sh!t posting (epic! The musical edition)

I have this fanfiction idea, and feel free to steal it, but like in the Oddessy (if I remember correctly) Antonius is closer in age to Tele than the epic fandom headcanon age for Tele.So like either crack treated seriously or like an abusive, whump, smut fic. I don't know I'm just giving out ideas, (please tag me if you steal it I love fanfics)

So the main plot idea is like after Little Wolf we all know the popular headcanon is that Antonius is sitting when he says boy so like maybe their in a dinning hall.

And after everyone leaves, Antonius comes back and like antagonizes him. And Antonius wraps his legs around his neck or something and continues to threaten Telemachus, talking about despite being closer in age to Telemachus he'll still marry Penelope and become king, and threats Penelope and stuff.

Maybe his legs are crushing his wind pipes and Telemachus in a act of pure self defense and self preservation just says.

"if you want to marry a royal, I'll marry you just leave my mother be"

And of course Telemachus is muffled so Antonius loosens his thighs so Telemachus can breath. Of course Antonius the power hungry prick says yes. Of course he does. Maybe Antonius to really only make him feel worse calls him a pet name as he leaves.

Maybe Telemachus goes to his mother's room and cries, asking her why he did that. Maybe before that Athena tries to help come up with a plan or a strategy but Telemachus gets stressed out and just cries to his mom.

I don't know, this is less of a shit post now, and more like a serious fanfic idea. Ask about this au because I have more ideas.

[burningpenguinwitch]

can i say something? please don’t come at me but i feel like characterizing Mel King as ace is…too easy? I’m not ace nor on the spectrum so take all this with a grain of salt, but it is sort of common for audiences to hc autistic characters as ace, and in The Pitt, where there’s little explicit romance but a lot of planting seeds for future seasons, it feels like saying she’s ace comes back to this way of infantilizing people on the spectrum? In a way, people are uncomfortable with autistic characters demonstrating sexual attraction, so the idea of them being ace sort of, pushes those uncomfortable feelings away.

I know ace people can have sex and romantic relationships/feelings, and I know autistic people can be ace, absolutely. It’s just, I see Mel as this incredibly devoted person, carer, but it’s clear she’s desperate for connection, closeness, and her having an affair (sexual/emotional) with Langdon, a married man, feels like a much more interesting route to take for a female character with her morals and values.

(This is echoing a sentiment I’ve read from @delinquentkru)

Anyways, JUST MY OPINION.

[maiooo-0]

Some cats and dog💛💜💛💜

[gravity-magnet]

heres my dujmb ugly 2doc kissing from a couple days ago that almost killed me

[save-mohamed-family]

I kindly ask you to post our story and encourage your friends to do the same. My family and I are holding on to hope, waiting for someone to hear our pain. We are overwhelmed with grief, and your support could be the light we so desperately need in this dark time.

@nefariousfool 🙏🙏🙏🙏