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#9 Brutal Truths About
thewealthystatus · 3 months
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barblaz-arts · 7 months
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I haven’t sent any of the other messages, and this is the first time I’m even seeing your opinions on this matter as I’ve followed you for your Wenclair art.
I’m an Israeli citizen. On October 7th thousands of Hamas terrorists went into Israeli villages (on Israel’s territory) and raped, shot, beheaded, burned alive and murdered 1400 CIVILIANS. They kidnapped 230 more citizens into the Gaza Strip, including babies and the elderly (no idea if they are alive, as Hamas didn’t let the Red Cross or anyone else see them and REFUSED any deal to release them, despite all the lies they are spreading). Hamas uploaded videos of them doing these deeds, they were proud of them. We are still not done counting our dead, 3 weeks later, because of the state they were left in. We identify people by DNA pulled from pieces of skull tissue, by CT scans of burned masses of flesh showing parents hugging their children as they were burned alive.
A little bit of history. In 2005 Israel completely pulled out of Gaza, and handed it over to the Palestinians. In 2007 Hamas was elected to lead the Gaza Strip. This is an organization that in its charter says loud and clear they want to murder Jews. It’s not hidden, there is no question about it. They are proud of it. And since 2007 they have not allowed for an election in Gaza, they have stolen international aid money to build terror infrastructure and embedded themselves deep within their civilian population (just a few days ago evidence was provided that Hamas built their HQ under a hospital, specifically because they knew Israel wouldn’t bomb it).
The truth is, the pictures from Gaza are heartbreaking. The civilians are suffering and it’s making me sick. But how is Israel supposed to respond to the massacre of October 7th? Just pretend it didn’t happen? No country would. Israel isn’t targeting the civilian population though, unlike Hamas. I’m not saying innocent civilians aren’t killed, they very sadly are because war is horrible. But it’s always an accident, they are never the targets. Hamas is the target.
Israel has its part in creating Hamas just like the USA had its part in creating ISIS and Taliban. Still doesn’t excuse terrorism. Israel didn’t deserve the October 7th massacre anymore than the USA deserved 9/11. I hope that you can appreciate that.
The truth is, there are innocent civilians on both sides here that are suffering. Things aren’t black and white, and they never were with this conflict. And if you want to have a discussion I’ll happily talk to you privately, answer questions as best as I can. But only if we come from a place of mutual respect. If you want to block me, that’s fine too.
I do want to let you know while I can that your art is beautiful and made me smile on multiple occasions. I hope you continue it. And I wish you luck with everything and hope that we all have peaceful days in the future.
First of all. Gaza was not given to Palestine. Israel put them there and had Gaza serve as an open air prison.
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You can't go around saying "Israel has its part in creating Hamas but it still doesn't excuse terrorism" then go around saying that this genocide is justified because "What else are we supposed to do after what happened in Oct 7?" What a double standard. You do not get to say that what happened to them makes you feel bad but say that you were left with no other choice. You dont get to say that Hamas being born from 70+ of brutality is still not an excuse to kill but also say Israel doing the same thing is justified.
Now, of course this does not mean that I side with Hamas. Never have, never will. I side with Palestinians, something so many Zionists cannot seem to comprehend, because they see killing them as one and the same.
Listing off those atrocities, though heartbreaking, as I will always mourn the innocent, still does not change my stance or how I feel. I feel like a broken recorder, constantly having to repeat that the civilians in Gaza did not do those and in turn did not deserve any of this. The hostages don't either of course, and the families of the ones still held captive are furious with their government for choosing to bomb them along with Hamas like some sort of sacrifice, like what you are implying the civilian deaths to be. Just unfortunate casualties for the greater good.
You can go ahead and say that only Hamas were meant to be targeted all you want, but they did not need to cut off their water so they're not even able to clean and defecate. They did not need to cut off power and render hospitals useless. And NO they did not need to bomb those same hospitals, even IF it were true that it was a Hamas base. And they did not need to use phosphorus bombs to do it. This has, and always will be about Israel's hatred of arabs and Muslims, as it was 70 years ago before Hamas even existed, as it still is now.
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Tell me, if the past two or so weeks was really about Hamas, then why are these people mocking the civilians that are mourning their families' death as they starve?
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None of this should have happened. Hell, you shouldn't even be living where you are in the first place. No one has any right to colonize. Whatever white supremacists or religious reason anyone says.
Of course this does not mean that I believe all jews or Israeli are as evil as the pieces of shit in that tiktok compilation or the powerful pile of dung that rule your country. There are Isreali and Jews protesting for Palestine as well, and I deeply admire them for their bravery and to feel compassion for the other side and act on it.
It's baffling how you're aware that Israel is responsible for Hamas creation but still, maybe not want it, but think all you can do is reluctantly accept the unavoidable. Because this was definitely avoidable. But your government actively wants this, and frankly I dont think it cares about you. It does not care about the soldiers they send out and the people that died and the hostages that were taken. They are using you as an excuse for more death and money.
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"Those thinking of revenge should be ashamed," said by one of the survivors of Oct 7. And she is right. You are demanding the wrong things of your government.
And no, I will not be talking to anyone about this in my direct messages. Talking about it privately makes it feel like some debate to be won, when this shouldn't be a debate at all. The reason why I answer these kinds of asks is to make people aware of what is happening. I'm just some girl, I cannot fight for Palestine in any way that can directly save a life and I dont have the financial capability to donate, but I can do this. We can make those sick excuses of humans on top know that we know of their stink and we will not give it any excuse.
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squgs · 10 months
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I've seen people responding to it being pointed out that Daemon is so obviously a worse person than Alicent or Criston by saying that "at least he isn't a hypocrite" or "at least he doesn't pretend he's better than he is." Which is perhaps accurate, but is really just saying "at least Daemon doesn't make any attempt to be a good person or voice any desire to be better."
This leads me to something I've been noticing: none of the team black characters voice or show any regret for their misdeeds while team green characters do so constantly. Daemon never apologizes or show any regret for any of the brutally evil things he does. Alicent on the other hand is constantly looking apologetic and regretful, even when she didn't do anything like in the case of Larys killing his family.
After the eye incident Alicent is extremely regretful and apologetic for her actions while Rhaenyra isn't at all. In fact Rhaenyra's response is to seek out more power through marrying Daemon so that she can more effectively hurt anyone who states an obvious truth. Her children similarly show no regret for escalating that fight, nor seem at all apologetic for having permanently disfigured Aemond.
The comparison is most striking between Criston and Daemon who have semi similar misbehavior that only Criston acknowledges in any way as bad. First in episode 5 they both smash someone's face in. Daemon's is clearly premeditated and his entire reason for being in the vale, while Criston's was planned at most ten minutes before it was carried out and was a response to an assumed attempt to blackmail him. Daemon has absolutely no shame about the murder, even going so far as to try to claim his victim's inheritance. Criston on the other hand is so ashamed that he tries to kill himself. They both also have incidents of misogynistic language. Criston calls Rhaenyra a cunt once and promptly apologizes. Daemon refers to his first wife as a 'bronze bitch' more than he uses her name and calls Alicent a whore. He does not apologize for any of those instances or show any indication that he doesn't think those are appropriate things to call a woman. Finally in episodes 8 and 9 Criston and Daemon each attack a man from behind after he insults their wife. Neither is their best moment, but again Criston is pretty clearly regretful of it, and it seems like he didn't mean to kill Beesbury and that he just forgot how fragile old people are. Daemon on the other hand clearly intended to murder Vaemond and was happy to quip about it and then chuckle when he's mentioned again.
The one sort of exception to this is Rhaenyra's toast to Alicent in episode 8. She does apologize in that scene. However, she isn't apologizing for mistreating Alicent. All she is apologizing for is not helping to take care of Viserys and not acknowledging her care taking previously, which like it definitely means something that she said that, but implicit in what she says is the idea that it's Alicent's role and duty to be taking care of him. There's kind of an implication that Rhaenyra views Alicent as having redeemed herself through serving Viserys when in reality her care taking is just another facet of Viserys's abuse, abuse that is never acknowledged or apologized for. Still I do love that scene and the way it is beautifully, pathetically, sad that Rhaenyra can only connect and forgive Alicent when she's in her subservient role and that Alicent is so desperate for connection with Rhaenyra that she will accept that barest hint of an apology even in the face of all the evidence that it's meaningless.
Now one would think that some characters regretting their misdeeds would be viewed as a sign of them being better people, but I think it actually has the opposite effect. Because the green characters are shown being regretful, their misdeeds are focused on and emphasized. In episode 5 it's possible to forget that Daemon killed his wife at the start of the episode, because it seems like he's forgotten as well. However it's impossible to forget what Criston does because his actions for the rest of the episode are all a reaction to his shame and horror about having just murdered someone. Then in the next episode when Criston has his one instance of misogyny, the entire show pauses to take note of it and wait for him to apologize (which he does!), but on the numerous occasions when Daemon is misogynistic the show breezes right past it, treating it as just a bad boy Daemon moment. Daemon's misdeeds can be enjoyed without an imediate reminder of how evil he is, letting him be a cool fun badass, while Criston's can't. You can't look at him awkwerdly and regretfully standing over Beesbury's body and say 'oh wow, such a badass male wife he really told Beesbury to keep his Wife's name out of his fucking mouth.' Though to be clear I also very much judge anyone who says that about Daemon killing Vaemond.
This is seen again in the eye incident. For most of the audience that goes into the incident not thinking that Rhaenyra is a significantly worse person than Alicent (a reasonable assumption), Alicent being extremely regretful afterwards while Rhaenyra isn't at all, is an indication that Alicent acted far worse than Rhaenyra did. A misreading that is helped by Rhaenyra's call for violence being couched in the 'sharply questioned' euphemism while Alicent's is stated outright. That is perhaps Alicent's most badass scene where she does her best to stand up to her abuser and those who allow that abuse in defense of their children, going so far as to physically fight back (though Rhaenyra perhaps wasn't the best choice of target), but the audience doesn't have any encouragement to see her badassery, instead we're to wallow in her shame at having fought back and watch her shrink back into herself with the implication that that's what she should be doing.
This pattern shows a fascinating tension between the events portrayed in the show and their framing. The show gives us two groups of people who range from very flawed to evil, but they are framed as a group of heroes and a group of villains. The greens are villains and their actions can only confirm that, while the blacks are heroes and their actions no matter how violent can only provide more evidence of heroism. I don't know how much actual meaning can be made from that tension, I wouldn't even be surprised if it was entirely accidental, but it is at the very least interesting enough to note.
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ficnation · 3 months
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Chapter 9: Intentions
Series: “Eat Your Heart Out ”Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,7k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, canon divergence A/n: I know we're still not out of Su-zukana, but we're getting there. I probably won't follow everything that happens in the show. I will skip through some parts. Also I'm not super satisfied with the last scene no matter how many times I rewrite it, so I'm leaving it like this. (unedited)
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Hannibal and Will’s eyes lock in a silent duel, the latter’s gaze unforgiving, tinged with feigned ignorance. Will Graham wishes he could stop caring about what happened and what is yet to happen, but he can only pretend.
He studies the psychiatrist from head to toe, silently pleading for a sign from the universe that would reveal what sick ideas were brewing in his mind.
“You were able to reconstruct this killer’s fantasies,” Hannibal’s voice is almost a melody. “One dead creature giving birth to another. The bird, his victim’s new beating heart. Her soul given wings.”
Will’s gaze shifts away from the man before him, his mind conjuring the brutal image of Sarah Craber’s lifeless body, her eyes forever staring into the void. The way the psychiatrist describes it aligns with your words, and Will finds himself reluctantly agreeing. It’s a brutal kind of poetry, one that leaves an indelible mark on the soul.
“Rebirths can only ever be symbolic,” Will states, seemingly uninterested.
“You’ve been reborn.”
That piques his interest; he looks at Hannibal with raised brows. “Wasn’t that the goal of my therapy?”
A pregnant pause hangs between them as the other man carefully selects his words. Will finds it disappointing when the topic of conversation is swiftly shifted.
“How does it feel consulting again with Jack Crawford and the FBI? Last time, it nearly destroyed you.”
Will blinks rapidly and licks his lips in annoyance, a subtle sign of his inner turmoil. He knows he can’t allow his emotions to overpower him. Certainly not now.
“Last time, you nearly destroyed me,” he states the obvious. Hannibal’s gaze shifts to his hands lying in his lap, a subtle indication of his own contemplation.
“After everything that has happened, Will, you still believe—” his words trail off into silence as Will cuts him off swiftly, his voice almost amused.
“Stop right there.”
Hannibal blinks slowly, meeting the other man’s gaze head-on. Will notices he almost looks ashamed, but he’s not entirely convinced that the killer in front of him is capable of feeling anything, let alone shame.
“You may have to pretend, but I don’t,” Will asserts, his tone firm and unwavering.
Hannibal’s gaze softens, a glimmer of understanding flickering in his eyes. “No, you don’t,” he agrees, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. “Not with me.”
There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a moment of unspoken connection between them, despite the chasm of their differences.
“I don’t expect you to admit anything. You can’t. But I prefer sins of omission to outright lies, Dr. Lecter. Don’t lie to me.” Each word is enunciated with deliberate care, emphasizing the gravity of the statement.
As their eyes meet, the sunlight streams through the window, casting a golden hue that dances across their faces. The gentle rays illuminate the room, creating a warm and serene atmosphere despite the tension between them. The dim sunlight seems to linger, as if highlighting the intensity of their quiet exchange and emphasizing the gravity of the moment.
“Will you return the courtesy?” the psychiatrist’s question hangs in the air, awaiting a response.
Will remains silent, knowing that Hannibal will interpret his lack of response as agreement.
“Why have you resumed your therapy?” his voice is steady, probing for the truth.
“Can’t just talk to any psychiatrist about what’s kicking round my head.” Will replies, his tone casual yet guarded. Hannibal scrutinizes him closely, searching for any telltale signs of deception or sincerity.
“Does she know?”
“About me being back in therapy with you? Yes.”
“You know that’s not what I meant, Will. Does she know?”
Will sits in silence for an excruciatingly long moment, contemplating which pieces of truth he should divulge and which he should leave behind.
The room grows unbearably hot and airless, and his breath comes quick and heavy. He can feel his heart hammering against his chest, demanding to be let out. He’s struggling with a familiar feeling, the kind that threatens to overwhelm—to swallow him whole. And he’s powerless against it.
Finally, he finds the words, but they’re hardly a relief to the growing burden in his chest. “Yes.”
“What did you tell her, Will?” Hannibal’s voice carries more curiosity than anger. Will isn’t sure if he expected something more profound or revealing from his response.
“Everything.”
Hannibal’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but his expression remains unreadable.
Will feels an intense urge to elaborate, to fill in the missing pieces, to explain the whole picture. But he bites his tongue, choosing to stay silent instead, to keep his secrets. Hannibal remains still for a moment, taking in the information, assessing Will and his answer.
After a while, he speaks, “Does she know why?”
“Hannibal, I don’t even know why you did what you did.”
“Perhaps you never will,” Hannibal replies cryptically, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow, piercing Will like a knife. “And yet, you came to me in spite of that.”
“You wanted her to come back. Why?” Will asks. He’s not going to give up that easily.
“Because she’s brilliant, Will. She understands people in ways no one ever has. She’s perceptive and intuitive, and she’s not afraid to stare into the abyss. I’ve been searching for such an individual for a very long time.”
“I reckon asking you to leave her alone would be futile,” Will suggests with a resigned tone.
“Indeed,” Hannibal acknowledges with a faint smile. “But I promise to handle the situation delicately.”
“Handle it delicately?” Will asks, unable to keep the surprise and amusement from his voice. He’s never expected such words from Dr. Lecter, not when it comes to you. “Can you promise me she’ll be safe?”
Hannibal hesitates for a moment, clearly weighing his answer before speaking. “I can promise you that I have no intention of harming her,” he replies, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “However, I am also aware that my intentions may not always be the most relevant factor when it comes to such matters.”
Will finds himself contemplating the psychiatrist’s words, feeling an intense frustration at the answer, despite knowing that Hannibal will never offer more. He wants to ask further questions, to keep digging for answers, but the words won’t form. He’s been given an answer. For better or worse, that will have to be enough.
He speaks, his voice barely registering above a whisper, “Thank you.”
“Do you fantasize about killing me, Will?”
“Yes.” Now, more than ever.
Hannibal raises an eyebrow, his eyes studying the other man carefully. The question hangs in the air for a silent moment, the two men locked in a tense staring contest. Will breaks his gaze, his eyes dropping to his lap. There’s an uncomfortably long pause, one that leaves him feeling more exposed than he ever has.
The psychiatrist speaks again, his voice carefully measured but still carrying a hint of curiosity, “Tell me. How would you do it?”
Will feels an intense surge of anxiety, the idea of sharing his murderous fantasies almost too much to bear. His heart beats rapidly, his breaths come short and shallow, and his palms are damp with sweat. He hesitates, taking a deep breath in an failed attempt to settle his nerves.
Finally, he answers, his voice trembling slightly as he speaks, “With my hands.”
“Then we haven’t moved past apologies and forgiveness, have we?” Hannibal studies his face quietly for a moment, his eyes scanning Will’s features, searching for any hint of deceit.
“We’ve moved past a lot of things. I discovered a truth about myself when I tried to have you killed,” Will says slowly, a hint of reluctance in his voice. 
Hannibal’s gaze remains unwavering, a steady, almost calming presence. He’s unfazed by Will’s blunt statement, his face uncommonly relaxed as he listens.
“That doing bad things to bad people makes you feel good?”
Will blinks and nods, a tinge of surprise in his eyes. No one has spoken this truth before, not even himself. But the words seem to provide a sense of closure. There is no judgment, no criticism; merely a statement of fact, a mutual understanding.
“Yes.”
“I need to know if you’re going to try to kill me again, Will.”
“I don’t want to kill you anymore, Dr. Lecter.” The man swallows and shakes his head. “Not now that I finally find you interesting.”
There’s an intense silence between them, Hannibal’s face betraying no sign of shock or surprise at the confession. The man merely listens calmly, processing Will’s words as he studies the man’s every feature.
“Your honesty is both refreshing and concerning,” the psychiatrist says with surprising ease.
“Thank my wife. She makes an honest man out of me.”
As you lie asleep in your bed, the quiet of the night envelops you, broken only by the gentle hum of the old bedside lamp and the crackling of the fireplace. You’re lost in a dreamless slumber, your mind temporarily free from the weight of the day’s responsibilities. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve had in a while. Sadly, it doesn’t last long.
The shrill ring of your phone shatters the stillness, jolting you awake with a start. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, heart pounding with a mixture of confusion and apprehension.
With a groan, you swipe to answer the call, your voice husky with sleep as you mutter a tired, “Hello?”
On the other end, Jack’s voice crackles through the line, urgent and insistent. “Agent Avant, we need you at the crime scene immediately. There’s been a development in the case.”
The words cut through the fog of drowsiness, instantly sharpening your focus. You sit up in bed, running a hand through your tousled hair as you process Jack’s message. “What kind of development?”
“I can’t discuss it over the phone. I’ll send you the adress. Get here as soon as you can.”
“Understood,” you reply, your tone firm and decisive. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
With a sense of urgency, you throw off your covers and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You reach for your clothes, hastily dressing in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, your mind already racing with possibilities. You grab your badge and gun, slipping them into their accustomed places on your belt, and make your way to the door.
As you step out into the cool night air, you feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Though weary from the abrupt interruption to your rest, you know that duty calls, and you’re ready to answer it with unwavering resolve, just like in the good old days.
With each step towards your car, you embrace the night’s unexpected summons, steeling yourself for the challenges that lie ahead. In the world of law enforcement, there’s no such thing as ordinary hours—only the relentless pursuit of justice, no matter the hour or the cost. Oh, how you hate it.
You slide into the driver’s seat of your car, the engine rumbling to life beneath you as you buckle up and prepare to head to the address Jack has sent you. You’re glad to have your own car back; depending on Will wouldn’t do you any good in situations like this.
Before pulling away, you instinctively reach for your phone, hoping for a message from your husband to ease your mind.
As the soft glow of the screen illuminates your face, you quickly navigate to your messages, heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread. But as you scan through the notifications, disappointment washes over you—there are no new messages from Will, and he isn’t home either.
A knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a nagging sense of worry gnawing at your thoughts. You remind yourself that Will was never one to provide constant updates on his whereabouts. He’s always been independent, often immersed in his work with little regard for the passage of time. Yet the silence from him tonight feels different somehow, unsettling in its absence.
Pushing aside your concerns for the moment, you tuck your phone back into your pocket and focus on the road ahead. There will be time to address your worries later, but for now, duty calls, and you must answer—no matter the personal cost. With a determined set to your jaw, you shift into gear and press on into the night. Having agreed to return to work for Crawford, you’re determined to give it your all.
“We found Sarah Craber’s grave and fifteen others,” Jack Crawford informs you the moment you step out of the vehicle.
“Fifteen?” you repeat, unable to hide the stunned note in your voice. You knew the killer had murdered others before Sarah Craber, but the discovery of fifteen additional victims is shocking on a whole different level. “How long has he been active?”
Jack’s face is grim, his expression somber as he speaks. “The earliest victim was buried eight years ago. The most recent grave is only two weeks old.”
You dare to focus your eyes on the crime scene behind your boss’ back. The sight in front of you takes your breath away—not in a good way.
The dim light of the night provides only limited visibility, casting the landscape in shadows and silhouettes. Yet, the shapes around you paint a clear picture, a horrifying image of a killer’s work. 
You can see the dug-out graves, dotted here and there—the final resting places of his victims. You can see the rows of police tape, marking off a boundary that no one is allowed to cross. You can see the solemn faces of the technicians, the detectives, the forensics, and other members of the investigative team.
“Fucking hell, Crawford.”
There’s a beat of silent hesitation before he continues, “And I’m afraid it gets even worse—”
You look at him with wide eyes, annoyance bubbling up beneath the surface of your skin. “You said I didn’t have to look at the bodies. You said that to me, Jack.”
“I said you didn’t have to get close to the bodies,” he corrects you with a hint of irritation. “But you’ll have to see them, at least from a distance. We have to assess the situation, and you’re our best profiler. It’s your job.”
“I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Didn’t you? You came back to the agency. This is what we do. You know that.”
“Yes, I came back. But you said I wouldn’t have to see the bodies.”
Jack sighs, a hint of impatience in his voice. “I thought I could shield you from that side of it, but it’s not worth risking your expertise when you can make a valuable contribution here.”
You feel your blood boil as you duck under the police tape and head toward the graves. “Let’s just get this fucking done,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your frustration evident in every word.
As you make your way toward the nearest body, the reality of the situation begins to sink in. It’s one thing to know that a serial killer has been active in this community for years, but it’s a completely different thing to actually see the proof of his crimes. The graves offer no comforting illusion—they’re real, and they represent the brutal truth and senselessness of the killer’s actions.
As you gaze upon the rows of bodies, or rather what was left of them, a realization dawns upon you with striking clarity.
“They’re all women?” you remark, the observation coming swiftly and without hesitation as your eyes sweep over the somber landscape.
Each marker bears testament to the lives lost, their identities hidden by the earth until this moment. There’s a solemnity in the uniformity of the graves, a shared narrative of female lives cut short, each one a story untold and a voice silenced.
In that moment, amidst the hushed whispers of the wind and the solemn rustle of leaves, you can’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for the women who now rest beneath the earth, their stories lost to time but not forgotten.
“Alright, he got comfortable.”
“Too comfortable?” Jack questions, eyebrow raised, ready to find out if you’re close to catching the serial killer.
You nod in agreement. “Way too comfortable.”
When a predator becomes comfortable, it means they believe they’re in control. And when they’re think they’re in control, they’re more likely to make mistakes.
The killer’s overconfidence in his ability to evade detection is evident. He’s been operating for years, right under your noses, taking the lives of innocent women and burying them in shallow graves that are easy to uncover once people start paying attention. You realize that this killer has been playing a dangerous game long enough to develop a deep sense of hubris; he truly believes he’s invincible. Arrogance seeps from every part of his crimes.
“So, it’s not Peter Bernardone?”
You crouch nearby one of the dug-out holes and observe as a forensic inspects the decomposing body. “Tell me, Jack, does Peter Bernardone ooze arrogance?”
Jack ignores your snarky remark as he considers your question for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I wouldn’t say so,” he decides. “Quite the opposite.”
“You really had to think about that one, huh?” You snort and shake your head in disbelief. “That man is a sheep, Jack. And this was done by a big bad wolf.”
Jack allows himself to crack a small smile at your analogy. “You’re right, this doesn’t fit Peter Bernardone; the arrogance doesn’t match the man. But there are a few others I have my eye on.”
“No, I don’t think he’s one of them.” 
Jack raises an eyebrow. “I’m interested to know who you think it is then.”
“How the hell would I know?” you retort, shrugging your shoulders in frustration.
“Your job is to figure that out,” Jack scolds you, growing tired of your complaints and excuses. “So what are you going to do now, Agent Avant?”
“I—” you start, then stand back up with a sigh. “I will find a bottle of good booze to lull me to sleep today.”
Jack’s face softens at the joke, the slightest hint of a smile gracing his lips. “That sounds like a plan. I don’t suppose you’re going to share?”
“You’re welcome anytime, boss.”
Jack nods, then gestures for you to continue examining the bodies. “Go on. We’re not done here yet.”
“Thought sharing the booze meant we’re ditching,” you mumble in resignation.
“Not until we’re finished here.” Jack indicates the bodies in front of you. “This is hardly the kind of case where you can get drunk and call it a day, Agent Avant. We still have work to do.”
“Alrighty.”
When you return home, the cold seems to have intensified. You lock the car, clutching a bottle of cheap wine under your arm. Sure, you could have splurged on something better, but right now, good taste isn’t your priority. You are aiming for a one-way ticket to Drunkville, with fingers crossed that the morning hangover won’t be too punishing.
The cold air nips at your cheeks, the bottle of wine under your arm a tangible reminder of the purpose of your excursion. You seek a distraction, anything to divert your mind from the day’s grim events. Yet, even as you hum a lighthearted tune, your thoughts stubbornly gravitate back to the graves and the haunting visages of the deceased women interred in the damp soil.
A complex array of emotions churns within you—grief, anger, irritation... perhaps even a touch of admiration? It was an unsettling sensation, one that you had experienced all too often before.
You dare to look ahead, your eyes tracing the outline of the forest behind the house, barely visible in the darkness of the night. It’s a mistake.
As soon as your gaze settles on the trees, you hear a faint scream emanating from that direction. You try to convince yourself it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you, but you can’t shake the feeling of unease that settles over you.
The scream gives you pause, causing you to hesitate on the icy pavement. You entertain the fleeting thought that it might be your tired mind, but then it comes again—a desperate cry for help echoing from somewhere near the woods behind the house. The sound sends a chill down your spine, a stark reminder of your solitude in this desolate place.
Despite knowing better, your legs carry you forward through the clearing behind the house, drawing you closer and closer to the trees where the sound originated. The urgency in the scream compels you to move, your heart pounding in your chest as you approach the edge of the forest.
Your footsteps are unsteady on the icy ground as you pause just outside the woods, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. The dense trees obscure your vision, and the faint light barely penetrates the forest, leaving your visibility limited to mere feet around you. You press on, determined to uncover the source of the distressing sound.
The screaming fades into silence, leaving only the sound of your own unsteady breathing echoing in the stillness of the night. You slip further into the woods, each step cautious and deliberate, the snow crunching under your boots. Despite the chill in the air, your clothes provide little warmth against the biting cold, and the shelter of the trees does little to shield you from the relentless wind.
The wind carries the cold air deep into your lungs, making your breath come out in cloudy puffs. Your coat offers little protection, and you feel the wind whistling through it, chilling your body to the core.
You take a few more steps, the trees growing thicker around you with each passing moment. 
You pause, listening intently, trying to discern the direction from which the cries for help emanated. But in the silence of the night, your own heavy breathing is the only sound that reaches your ears. 
The shrill of a scream shatters the stillness of the air, bursting through right behind your back, no more than a few feet away. It’s so loud that you instinctively cover your ears, feeling the jolt reverberate through your entire body.
In the chaos, the bottle of wine slips from your grasp, crashing to the ground and shattering upon impact with a nearby rock. Red wine splashes onto your boots and calves, staining the pristine snow with dark splotches.
You gape at the scene with wide eyes, heart racing in your chest as adrenaline floods your system. Your whirl around in an instant, your eyes scanning the area for any sign of the origin of the scream.
But the woods remain still, enveloped in an eerie silence, with only the moonlight filtering through the trees, casting shifting shadows that seem to dance around you. A shiver runs down your spine as you become acutely aware of just how isolated you are in this dark forest, surrounded by unknown dangers.
Your legs carry you as fast as they can, propelling you back the way you came, away from the ominousness of the forest. Panic surges through you, urging you to flee, to escape the darkness closing in around you.
Every step feels like an eternity as you race through the woods, your heart pounding in your chest, the echo of the scream still ringing in your ears. All you can think about is getting away, getting back to safety, away from whatever lurks in the shadows. Your senses are on high alert, every rustle of leaves and crack of twigs makes you jump.
The darkness seems to press in on you from all sides, suffocating and oppressive. Adrenaline courses through your veins, fueling your desperate flight through the underbrush.
You can’t see what’s behind you, but you can feel its presence, a looming specter haunting your every step. Terror grips you in its icy grasp, driving you onward, even as your legs threaten to give out beneath you. You push through the pain, pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion in your frantic bid for escape.
You look behind you, but all you can see is darkness. You’re just about to reach the clearing when you collide with someone with so much force that it takes both of you down.
Your breath rushes out in a startled gasp as you scramble to disentangle yourself from the other person, heart hammering in your chest. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you push yourself away from them, scrambling backward on all fours until you’re a safe distance away. Panic surges within you, making your movements frantic as you try to orient yourself in the darkness. The shadows obscure the details, making it difficult to see who or what has you so rattled.
The person mutters your name in panic. It’s Will.
The instant you hear the familiar voice, you know that you’re safe—that whatever was chasing you is gone. You let out a shaky sigh and release the tension in your muscles, suddenly realizing how close you were to losing control of the situation.
But his sudden appearance leaves you confused, and you can’t help but ask, “What are you doing out here?”
“I heard your scream. Are you alright?” He stumbles in your direction in panic, hands outstretched to grab your arms.
The confusion only grows as you listen to his question, certain that you never made a sound. You didn’t scream, yet he’s insistent that he heard it. And even though you know your voice would be distinctive in the silence of the woods, he still seems to be under the impression that you were the one who called out for him.
“I didn’t scream,” you insist, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to make sense of the situation. “I heard it too, but it wasn’t me.”
You don’t know what to make of it, and the uncertainty makes your nerves flare. You start backing away from his touch, keeping an eye on him as you try to make sense of what’s happening.
“I don’t understand,” you murmur, your voice trembling slightly with a mixture of fear and confusion. “I didn’t scream. It wasn’t me.”
“What do you mean you didn’t scream?” He seems taken aback by your response, his gaze darting around as he tries to process what you’re saying. “I ran here as fast as I could after I heard you. Are you trying to tell me I imagined it?”
You can feel the tension in his voice, the confusion mirrored in his expression. There’s a palpable sense of urgency in his demeanor, as if he’s desperately trying to make sense of the situation.
You shake your head vigorously, repeating like a mantra, “It wasn’t me.”
“Then who was it?” He glances around the woods again, searching for clues in the darkness. “Who else could be out here?”
“Let’s go home,” you say, ignoring his question and rising to your feet with the help of his steady arms.
Your legs still feel shaky after the run through the woods, and you lean on his arms for support as you try to regain your bearings. The cold air nips at your cheeks, making it hard to breathe, and the sudden burst of adrenaline has left you feeling exhausted. You let him guide you toward the house, not wanting to spend another moment in the dark woods.
“Don’t ever let me near those woods again,” you mutter, the words tumbling out without thought. Your voice trembles with a mix of fear and frustration, the events of the past few hours weighing heavily on your mind.
As you take the final few steps toward the house, you’re grateful to be out of the forest, but a lingering unease gnaws at you. Something about the whole evening feels off, and the fact that Will is here only adds to your discomfort.
As his arms envelop you, you feel a creeping unease settle over you, intensifying with each passing moment. His embrace should be reassuring, but instead, it triggers a disturbing sense of déjà vu. In this moment, you find yourself unable to be reassured by anyone or anything.
His eyes seem to darken, and before your startled gaze, antlers begin to emerge from his head, a surreal and terrifying transformation unfolding before your eyes.
The longer he holds you, the more your anxiety mounts, until you can no longer bear it, pulling away sharply, desperate to escape the unsettling sensations gripping you. Blinking in disbelief, you look back at him, finding no trace of the eerie transformation you just witnessed.
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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 3 months
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Was reading over the reverie arc tag and saw that you said to re-ask you about Im after what happened is revealed. (I'd provide the link but tumblr won't let me) So, while not much was revealed, thoughts?
what i think is really interesting about imu is how they compare and contrast to the other characters who have been set up for us as endgame villains, those being blackbeard and akainu. compared to both of them, imu is established quite late in the series, and how they will fit into the unrolling narrative and themes of the story is still somewhat unclear.
both blackbeard and akainu are established firmly well before they enter the main story as primary antagonists. we hear about blackbeard as far back as alabasta and meet him in jaya, while akainu is first seen in robin's enies lobby flashback and mentioned even before that. and they each also embody a strong thematic conflict with the main characters that is going to need to be overcome by the end of the story.
blackbeard mirrors luffy in his pursuit of the pirate king's throne, existing in the same lineage of villains as doflamingo and big mom. it seems almost certain that he will be the final and most difficult fellow challenger for the title of pirate king that luffy will need to face, and the eventual showdown between the blackbeards and strawhats has been telegraphed for quite some time. the question this conflict asks is, what does it mean to be a pirate? what does it mean to be a pirate king?
meanwhile, akainu is the embodiment of authoritarianism. he's the law, brutal and indiscriminate; he represents the order that would stifle freedom. he is much more alike to antagonists like rob lucci and cp-9. while i usually try to avoid speculation on this blog, i think akainu's final defeat will probably not be at luffy's hands; i think a showdown with sabo is much more likely. and the reason i think this is because the question that the conflict with akainu asks is, what does real justice look like? this is ultimately the question of the conflict between the marines and the revolutionaries; they are two armies fighting over whether the current order will be maintained or torn down and built anew.
so, then, imu. we meet them quite late in the game, and still know very little about them. however, i do think this is in itself thematically resonant; we see almost no trace of imu anywhere else until we reach mariejois itself, because they have been deliberately erased from the world. imu is tied, specifically and inextricably, to the mystery of the void century, of the erased history, and we will only learn the truth about them when we learn the truth about everything else.
imu's role in the story seems to be specifically to finally provide a direct antagonist to the overarching myth arc of the void century, the forgotten ancient kingdom, and the will of d; the imperial crimes of the world government, shoved endlessly under the rug. can you build a world-spanning kingdom on a lie? will it stand? for how long? there can be no such thing as an immortal empire no matter how much force you might use to make it so. you can't pin the sun in place in the sky.
while it's impossible to really guess this conflict is going to unfold given how much information we still don't have, my top three guesses for who will be primarily involved are robin (for obvious reasons; unraveling the truth of the void century is her dream, and imu stands directly in the way of that), vivi (also obvious; imu is targeting her directly), and law (both because his new goal is to unravel the meaning of the will of d and because it seems significant that imu is likely a previous recipient of the ope-ope no mi's immortality technique).
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pxnsneverland · 23 days
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Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 4)
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8| Part 9
plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.
pairings: biker!austin butler x oc
word count: 2510
warnings/notes: n/a
Chapter 4: Calm Before the Storm
The slender fingers of dawn crept through the gaps in the heavy, hand-hewn blinds, casting long, spectral shadows across the timber floor. Bonnie stirred from the depths of a dream-filled solace, her eyes fluttering open to the ceiling above. She lay nestled in Austin's muscular embrace. His chest rose and fell against her back in a rhythm that sang a lullaby of protection, a serenade of safety in this world of wolves and violence.
Her mind echoed with the echo of last night's conversation; Austin's voice rumbling like distant thunder, fierce and unyielding as he told her about the approaching full moon, his duty to the pack, his defiance for her safety. A sense of foreboding filled her heart at the thought of what this could mean for them - for him.
"Bonnie?" he murmured sleepily.
She sat up quickly removing herself from his embrace suddenly feeling very self conscious. “I-I’m fine. Sorry to wake you.”
Austin blinked away sleep, his blue eyes, as cool and piercing as a winter's dawn, focused on Bonnie. He sat up, the quilt pooling around his waist, revealing his chiseled torso.
"Don’t lie to me," he rumbled, reaching for her. His hand captured her wrist gently, but firmly. "You've got that look in your eyes. What're you thinking?"
What was she thinking? She was thinking about how muscular he had become and how cute he looked when he was just getting out of sleep. No, she had to stop. Austin was her childhood friend, the one who had always looked out for her and always kept her safe. This friendship was more important than whatever was currently tugging on her heart. Besides, she didn’t have time to think about it. Not with the impending full moon.
“I’m just hungry,” she partially lied, “I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.”
Austin's eyes softened with understanding and concern. He let out a little sigh, and then gave her a soft smile that reached his eyes, a rare sight that was only bestowed to Bonnie. "Let me fix you something to eat."
He got up, grabbing a loose shirt off the floor and shrugging into it before moving towards the small kitchen at the far corner of the cabin. Bonnie watched as he busied himself preparing some food for her - his broad shoulders taut with strength, blonde hair tousled from sleep falling over his forehead.
The sound of sizzling soon filled the quietness of the space, and Austin turned round momentarily, giving Bonnie a comforting smile that made her heart flutter erratically.
Bonnie found herself watching Austin intently. His focus was entirely on the food he was preparing, yet there was a certain grace about him - a lethal elegance that contradicted his rugged exterior. A sudden pang of emotion flowed through her veins, strong and unbidden.
"I'm making some eggs and bacon," he said, "Should only take a minute."
The rustling of pans filled the cabin as he cracked some eggs into a bowl and chopped up some vegetables. The smell of frying bacon wafted through the air, mixing with the scent of freshly cut wood from the fireplace. Alongside it, there was a hint of his delicious musk that lingered in the air from last night. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of food.
A few minutes later, Austin placed a plate in front of her on the bed, its contents steaming gently. She sat up slowly, taking in the thick-cut bacon and two sunny-side-up eggs arranged neatly on top of toast points. Her mouth watered at the sight and smell of it all. The scent of breakfast filled her senses as she picked up her fork to take a bite of egg yolk oozing over its edge. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste - warm buttery toast cradling flavorful egg yolk, interspersed with salty bacon and slightly charred bits. Austin watched her intently, studying her reactions to everything - including the way she ate his food. It made something stir within him deep inside.
"This is amazing," Bonnie commented between bites.
He chuckled softly from across the room where he sat on one of the log benches by the fireplace, finishing his own meal. "I try my best."
Finishing breakfast quickly, she felt more grounded and content than she had in hours. Despite everything that loomed over them both, this small moment felt like normalcy again; just them being themselves amongst nature's beauty around them.The hearty breakfast did wonders for Bonnie's empty stomach and the fresh air cleared her mind. She leaned back against the pillows, taking in deep breaths of the earthy scent of pinewood mixed with Austin's masculine musk that lingered in the air, wishing she could hold onto this peaceful moment forever. "Thank you," she whispered between bites.
Austin nodded, his head turning slightly towards her with a small smile playing on his lips. He stood up abruptly, stretching his strong arms above his head before grabbing a cloth to clean up any dishes left behind.
The clang of metal on metal resounded as he placed dishes into the sink filled with soapy water. The sizzling sound faded away as he turned off the stove top before returning to sit again near her by the fireplace. He watched her with those calculated blue eyes which seemed to see straight through her thoughts - those intense gazes making Bonnie's heart skip beats once more.
She couldn't help but notice how his body radiated heat; each flex of his muscles shifting under his clothes sent waves of warmth towards her direction. She tried not to focus too much on it but couldn't help herself; his broad shoulders tapering down into a strong V-shape torso leading to lean hips. His blonde hair fell over one eye, giving him a boyish charm despite the roughness around him - an irresistible mix that awakened something inside her.
She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, blushing as she looked away, hoping he hadn't noticed her staring.
"What is it?" Austin asked suddenly, his icy eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Bonnie's flushed face.
"Nothing," she stammered, shaking her head.
Austin chuckled, a deep, hearty sound that vibrated through the cabin.
"You're a terrible liar, Bon," he teased lightly, moving closer to her. He reached out and gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. The touch sent shivers down Bonnie's spine.
The air between them crackled with tension as Bonnie found herself getting lost in those piercing blue eyes again. The distance between them seemed to shrink, making her heartbeat quicken. Austin's proximity and the way his eyes bore into hers was unsettling yet exciting. She swallowed hard, trying to gather herself.
The peaceful moment was abruptly shattered by a guttural growl that resonated outside the rustic cabin. Austin sprang from the bed, his heart pounding with fear and adrenaline. He rushed to the window and cautiously opened it. In the distance, he could see the headlights of a bike pulling up to the cabin. Cursing under his breath, Austin knew exactly who it was - Jerry, who always seemed to show up at the most inconvenient times.
Without hesitation, Austin grabbed Bonnie's hand and pulled her out of bed, rushing her to the back door. He swung it open as quietly as possible and gestured for her to hide outside. She looked at him with confusion and worry etched on her face. "Who is that?" she whispered.
"Jerry," Austin gritted through clenched teeth. "That son of a bitch would be the only person to come visit me after just seeing me last night. How did he even get along with me in jail?"
Bonnie froze in shock. "You went to jail?" Her voice trembled with concern.
Austin didn't have time to explain now - there would be plenty of time for that later. "Just go hide," he urged, motioning for her to find a place to conceal herself. Just as a knock sounded at the door, he made sure Bonnie was safely hidden before quickly answering it himself, bracing himself for whatever lies or excuses Jerry had concocted this time around.
"S'up, boss?" Jerry greeted brusquely, his figure massive and imposing even in the early sunlight. His gruff voice echoed eerily through the silence as he kicked the kickstand down on his bike and began lumbering towards the porch.
Austin, who had long learned the art of concealing his true emotions, casually leaned against the doorframe with an air of indifference. "Jerry," he replied coolly, keeping his voice steady. He watched as Jerry squinted at him suspiciously, his broad shoulders visibly tensing under the worn-out leather jacket he always wore.
The two men eyed each other for a moment, taking in each other's hardened exterior. Jerry broke the silence first, grunting as he took a step closer to Austin. "Thought you might want some company after being in the slammer for so long," he said nonchalantly, scratching at his grizzled beard.
Austin nodded curtly, not wanting to engage in any further conversation than necessary. "I don’t."
Jerry raised an eyebrow at Austin's curt response, a hint of suspicion flashing in his gaze. He didn't say anything for a moment, studying Austin's stoic expression. Austin's heart pounded against his ribs like a wild drum. He maintained his indifferent facade, curling his hand tighter around the door frame. Jerry shrugged, looked around the cabin, then back at Austin. There was a silent standoff between the two men for a moment before Jerry finally broke it by saying, "Come on, now. It’s just friendly concern for you. That’s all."
"Right," Austin responded, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Since when did you start caring?"
Jerry gave a shrug, the creeping sunlight highlighting the scars that marred his rough features. "Times change," he said cryptically.
The air seemed to thin between them, the tension palpable. Austin clenched his jaw as he contemplated Jerry's words. His right-hand man had never shown any sign of concern before. Something was amiss.
"Well, your sudden change of heart is touching," Austin said, injecting a note of sarcasm into his words, "But I don't need company. I need quiet."
Austin didn't miss the flash of annoyance that crossed Jerry's face at his refusal. His large hands curled into fists, knuckles whitening visibly. But instead of lashing out as Austin expected, Jerry slowly unclenched his fists and relaxed his stance.
"Alright," Jerry said gruffly, turning away and heading back towards his bike. But before he could hop onto it, he paused and turned back to Austin. "Just remember," He said, his eyes cold and hard. “Tomorrow is the full moon. The pack will expect you to lead the hunt since you’re back.”
With that, he revved his bike loudly before roaring down the dirt path away from the cabin, leaving Austin alone once more in the serene wilderness. Austin watched him until he was nothing more than a speck in the distance, a feeling of unease settling deep in his gut.
Austin took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unnerving encounter. As soon as he was sure Jerry was far enough away, he called out to Bonnie who emerged from her hiding spot behind a large tree. Her eyes were wide with fear.
"Is it safe?" She asked tentatively.
Austin nodded, stepping forward to embrace her in his arms. He breathed in the familiar scent of her hair, a mix of vanilla and honey from her shampoo. She didn't resist but her arms hung limply at her sides. "What about the hunt? Jerry has a point. They'll be expecting you." It would be suspicious if he didn't show up for the pack's regular hunts, especially since it had been awhile since his last one. Someone would come looking for him and find Bonnie in the midst of her first full moon transformation.
Austin sighed, rubbing circles on Bonnie's back to soothe her. "I know," he said gruffly, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew what the full moon would do to her, how it would awaken the beast within her. It was something he wished she never had to experience.
"I can't leave you alone during your first transformation, Bon," he admitted, his grip tightening slightly around her small frame. "It's painful... and dangerous."
"But what about the gang?" Bonnie asked worriedly, her voice muffled in Austin's chest. She knew better than anyone how crucial Austin's role was in the gang and how dangerous it was for him to defy their expectations.
Austin sighed heavily again, running a hand through his messy hair. It wasn't going to be easy dealing with the gang's questions and suspicions. But he had an idea - a risky one. He pulled away from Bonnie, looking down at her with determination burning in his blue eyes.
"You mean more to me than any gang or code," Austin's voice resonated with sincerity as he spoke, his eyes locked onto Bonnie's. She understood the weight of his words, their predicament a testament to their bond. "There's an old bomb shelter underground in the woods, a few miles from here. My dad used it to train me when I first turned. It's secure, no way out once you're in. During the hunt, amidst the chaos and bloodlust, I'll slip away to be with you." The plan was daring, risking exposure if anyone caught wind of Austin's intentions. Yet, he hoped his aggressive display at the bar had deterred prying eyes.
Fidgeting nervously with her hands, Bonnie longed for Austin's presence during her impending transformation but not at the expense of his allegiance to the pack. While she had never felt tied to their ways, it had always been different for Austin. His destiny seemed predetermined by his father's legacy within the Blood Moon Riders.
"Austin... during my first shift, I won't be myself," Bonnie confessed worriedly, haunted by visions of losing control to primal instincts and savagery. “Austin…I won’t be myself during my first transformation. Dad said it was like having no control over your body, thinking of nothing but blood and rage and tearing things apart. What if I hurt you?”
Austin met her apprehension with a smirk that drew a pout from Bonnie as she crossed her arms defensively. Stepping closer, he reassured her with unwavering confidence. "As an alpha, I possess strength beyond that of regular werewolves. If things go awry, I can hold my ground against you."
"But won't the full moon affect you too?" Bonnie pressed on anxiously.
Acknowledging the challenge in her gaze, Austin admitted candidly about controlling his own transformations except during pack hunts under the full moon when primal urges surfaced briefly before being suppressed by guilt and remorse once blood was shed.
Before Bonnie could voice further concerns, Austin interjected firmly yet tenderly. "No arguments," he asserted with conviction in his eyes,"I will protect you."
"Even from myself?" Bonnie questioned softly, uncertainty lingering between them like an unspoken dare.
With a resolute nod and a steadfast gaze fixed on hers, Austin affirmed his vow without hesitation: "From everything."
Stay tuned for part 5!! Click HERE to view!
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hischierdevils · 1 year
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Close As Strangers | Q.H.
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note: thank you to my cal anon for suggesting I write something based off of Close As Strangers by 5sos
summary: you realize that quinn doesn’t have to be physically gone for you to miss him
warnings: ANGST
wc: 1.7K
I'm afraid that I might be losing you
And every night that we spend alone
It kills me thinking of you on your own
And I wish I was back home next to you
When Quinn got back to the hotel after the game he was exhausted. He was two days into a ten day road trip and it was already hard to come back to an empty bed. As he changes out of his suit and gets ready for bed, he wonders what you’re doing. 
The two of you weren’t on very good terms when he left. The team had a couple of brutal losses back to back and Quinn had blamed it on himself. He internalized everything, coming home from the rink and ignoring you as he ran through the game in his mind trying to find all of his mistakes. 
The two of you had been together for a year already, so he thought you knew by now not to take it personally when he withdrew from you but you’d taken to sleeping on the couch a few nights before he left. He had stood by the door with his suitcase waiting for his goodbye kiss but you simply waved him off, barely looking in his direction. 
You hadn’t texted him before or after the game. He doesn’t even know if you watched it. You usually always send him a good luck text even though he never replies because he’s usually on the phone with his Dad. The last message in your text thread is you asking if the two of you could have a date night before he left. It had gone unanswered because he was in the gym with Petey. Besides, the two of you lived together. He saw you all the time. 
Now he lays in bed alone, wishing he could hold you in his arms as he falls asleep. He tosses and turns a few times before clutching the extra pillow and pulling it to his chest. You always start off spooning when the two of you fall asleep and then during the night you always somehow end up on top of Quinn. He teases you about it but he doesn’t mind. He loves waking up to you laying on his chest. 
Quinn lays in bed for what feels like hours but sleep never comes. His mind is full of thoughts of you and he starts to convince himself that you won't be there when he returns home. The thought is enough to make him sit up in bed and reach for his phone. It’s 12:30 a.m. his time which means it’s only 9:30 p.m. your time. 
Late night calls and another text
Is this as good as we're gonna get?
Another time zone taking me away from you
Your phone begins to ring with an incoming facetime as you take your makeup off. Quinn’s name comes up so you click accept and prop your phone up on the counter so you can continue your nightly routine. 
“Hey beautiful.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you wash your face. Of course he’s all cute and caring when he’s in a completely different timezone. 
“Hey. How was the game?” You ask. 
“We won. Did you watch it?” It’s so dark on his side of the screen that you can barely see his face. 
“No.” You respond as you reach for a towel to pat-dry your face. You did turn the game on for a moment but it hurt too much to see him smiling and laughing with his teammates during warm ups so you turned it back off. “I’m glad you won.”
“What did you do tonight?” You know he’s asking because he wants to know why you didn’t watch the game. How could you knowing the outcome of the game would determine if you got to talk to your boyfriend tonight? 
You take a minute to answer, dabbing moisturizer on your face before putting all of your products away. “Nothing, really.” You finally respond as you shut off the bathroom light and make your way into the bedroom you share with Quinn. “I had dinner and read my book.” The truth is you picked at your dinner before throwing most of it out. You tried watching his game but couldn’t stomach it, so you opened a book and stared at the same page for an hour. 
Quinn shifts on his side of the phone. When did it become so hard for the two of you to talk? “Sounds like a nice night.” 
When you first started dating, you stayed up for hours talking about anything and everything with him. Now you can’t even bring yourself to tell him you miss him. “Yeah, I guess.” 
“I love you.” He says as you get into bed. His pillow still smells like him and you’re suddenly overwhelmed with grief, as if the relationship is already over. 
“I miss you.” You whisper with tears in your eyes. 
On the phone I can tell that you wanna move on
Through the tears I can hear that I shouldn't have gone
Every day gets harder to stay away from you
Quinn sits up quickly when he hears you start to cry and he turns on his bedside lamp so you can see his face. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here.” His heart breaks as he listens to you sob. “I’ll be home soon.”
“Even when you’re here you’re not here, Quinn.” You tell him between gasps. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” 
“Y/n.” Tears begin to line his own eyes as he looks at the dark screen. He can’t see your face and he’s not sure if he wants to. “You don’t mean that. We’ll get through this.” 
“I don’t even know what we’re supposed to get through!” Your voice turns angry, making him wince. “You barely speak to me anymore Quinn. We don’t act like a couple. We’re just strangers that happen to live in the same house.” 
He realizes how much he’s been taking you for granted and his tears start to fall quickly. All he wants to do is reach through the phone and hold you. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’ve had a lot going on with the-”
“The team, I know.” Your voice is bitter. 
“Hockey’s my job y/n, you knew that going into this.” He bites back. 
“I knew that you’d have to leave for away games.” You’re not sobbing anymore but he can tell you’re still crying. “I didn’t realize how you played affected if I would get a good night kiss or not.” 
“That’s not true.” 
“Can you tell me the last time we kissed, Quintin?” He winces at the use of his full name. You never call him that. It hurts even more when he realizes that he doesn’t know the last time he kissed you. Surely it couldn’t have been longer than a week, right?
“I love you y/n.” He says through his tears. 
He hears you sigh. “I’m going to bed.” 
What does that mean? Are you broken up? “Can I call you tomorrow?” 
“I guess that depends on the game, huh?” You hang up before he can respond, leaving him staring at his own reflection. He told you twice that he loved you and you hadn’t said it back.
Are we wasting time
Talking on a broken line?
Telling you I haven't seen your face in ages
I feel like we're as close as strangers
You called off of work the next day. You’d spent most of the night crying after talking to Quinn and you woke up with a headache. You had no idea where the two of you stood or what you even wanted. You love Quinn, at least you thought you did. The Quinn you see now is just a shell of who he used to be. It almost seems like he decided that since you lived together he didn’t have to try anymore. 
You woke up to a good morning text from him so you responded wishing him luck at his game before you move to sit on the couch. Wearing one of Quinn’s hoodies with tears in your eyes, you search your laptop for affordable apartments in the Vancouver area. The thought of breaking up is killing you but so is the thought of staying. 
You don’t hear anything else from him before the game starts but you find yourself pulling it up on the tv anyway. You set your laptop down on the floor and watch the tv until you spot Quinn in a close-up. You wish you could say he looks miserable. That maybe he’s hurting just as much as you are but there’s nothing about his appearance that signifies that. 
His game though, is another story. He’s playing the worst game you’ve ever seen him play. You should turn it off, knowing there’s no chance you’ll be hearing from him tonight, but it’s like watching a car accident. You don’t want to watch but you can’t look away. 
With five seconds left in the second period, there’s a lot of traffic around the Canucks net and Quinn ends up taking a deflected puck straight to the face. He’s helped off the ice and goes straight down the tunnel. You watch in horror as the rest of the period plays out, waiting for news of him. He doesn’t come back on the ice and the game goes to second intermission. 
“Please be okay.” You whisper to yourself as you snuggle into Quinn’s hoodie. “Please.” 
Five minutes later, your phone is ringing. You answer right away when you see it’s Quinn. “Are you okay?” 
“Do you still love me?” His question throws you off. 
“What? Quinn…” Your mind is reeling. He just took a puck to the face and that’s what he’s worried about?
“Please don’t leave, okay?” His voice breaks up over the line. “I need you to be there when I get home.” There’s noise in the background and then ruffling. “I have to go.” 
“Quinn.” You say his name so he’ll stay on the line. “I need you to be here when you get home.” 
“I will be.” He says and then hangs up. 
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otdiaftg · 3 months
Text
"My handlers," Nathaniel repeats. "I am not your property." "But you are in our custody." "Are you arresting me?" "Right now we're acting in good faith and assuming we will have your full cooperation. If we need to take a more aggressive approach, we will do so. We've got a string of offenses we could charge you with, starting with the fake IDs in your wallet and escalating to your mother's current whereabouts. Just let us know if we've got to play hardball."
Nathaniel makes a rude noise. "You couldn't at least use an Exy idiom? I hate baseball." "Right now what you do or do not hate is of little concern to us," Towns says. "We only care about the truth." "I'll trade you truth for truth," Nathaniel says. "My teammates were caught in a riot last night. The Palmetto State Foxes," he elaborates, though he is sure the agents have pieced at least that much together since picking him up at his father's house. "Were they hurt?" "Eighty-six people ended up in the hospital, including three of your teammates," Browning says. "They were treated and summarily released. Minor injuries. They were lucky. A couple people ended up in the ICU." "We made contact with Coach Wymack shortly after you were admitted here and asked him to bring his people for questioning," Towns adds. He checks his watch and says, "They should be wrapping things up soon. When we're done with them they are free to return to South Carolina." He doesn't say "without you", but Nathaniel hears it in his tone. "It's your turn," Browning says. "Where is your mother?" Nathaniel tells them about running into his father in Seattle and the vicious attack they weren't fast enough to escape. He tells them about fire and sand and burying her on the coast. It is brutally unfair that she hadn't lived long enough to see Nathan die, but Nathaniel keeps that bitter misery to himself. "All this time you were hiding out in Seattle?" Browning says, sounding annoyed by their oversight. "No," Nathaniel says. "That was just the last real stop before Arizona." "What came before Seattle?" "I want to see my teammates." "What came before Seattle?" Browning repeats. Nathaniel presses his mouth into a hard line and stares at the ceiling.
Day: Saturday, March 9th / 10th* Time: 9:05 AM EST
*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.
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bonebabbles · 3 months
Text
Slash's Famous Scene
Here we are, lads. Everyone's favorite scene in the totally best arc of WC. The one where Slash pins a pregnant woman to the ground and licks her face, while threatening her fetuses and cutting her cheek open so Clear Sky can have more man pain.
So far I've been using "fridging" as synonymous with the brutal killing of a female character to advance a male character's arc; but I do want to remind everyone that the term "fridging" describes disproportionate violence done to women in the service of their husband/brother/father/son's arcs. It doesn't HAVE to be death; it can also be battery, maiming, depowering, or sexual assault.
So far, 8 women have died to serve male arcs, most of them for Clear Sky specifically. Fluttering Bird, Bright Stream, Storm, Misty, Bumble, Turtle Tail, Rainswept Flower, and Petal. Now Star Flower gets sexually harassed and kidnapped, bringing the arc's fridge total to 9.
Anyway content warning, obviously. It's still Warrior Cats and doesn't get too graphic, but this bag contains a dead dove.
First, Clear Sky gets another toesucking from the ghost of his wife who died after leaving his controlling ass. Specifically, after he threw his disabled brother out of his Clan, and after his lust for seeing random people (including his brother) get mauled at the border resulted in the death of Fox.
She tells him that his behavior never drove anyone away, it was all totally not his fault. I'm waiting for a laugh track and it never comes. The apologetics in this arc are unrivaled.
Then, Clear Sky wakes up and his pregnant wife is not next to him. So he goes looking for her and sees her being flanked by Slash and his memorable minions, Grunt 1 and Grunt 2. Star Flower is so possessed by fear that she doesn't move.
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They REALLY need to sell that Slash is TRUE evil, PURE evil, because of the wet fart that is Clear Sky's redemption arc. They're saying that Clear Sky ISN'T bad, because he is not this. A dirty, sadistic monster who coos evilly about how he's going to hurt the kittens in his wife's belly and cruelly twitches his whiskers.
(as a petty side detail, please also note that this passage cannot even keep Slash's fur color straight. Behold, a cat so evil that he cannot even remain a brown tabby! He turns gray when he commits nefarious deeds! Ashfurification included!)
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Star Flower is the one being pinned to the ground and having her face cut open as Slash screams about how she promised her father she'd be his mate, but this scene is about Clear Sky's distress. Star Flower is an object to this narrative, which these two men are in conflict over.
The pinning, the violence, the sexual implications, are being done to make Slash as monstrous as possible to contrast to Clear Sky. Slash doesn't kill anyone, so the narrative needs to make you SO UPSET your emotions are thrown into overdrive, so you'll accept how truly terrible he is.
The simple truth that this rancid book is trying to make you ignore, is that Clear Sky is exponentially more deadly. He has caused harm so unspeakable that they have to describe his bloody murders in passive voice. They "died" now, instead of "were killed," and the violent system he created is presented as "making up" for the trauma he's caused to the survivors.
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"Pushing his muzzle close to her injured cheek, he licked the blood from her fur with a long, lingering lap."
Think critically about the characters they are presenting and the actions they make them do. None of these are real people. They are writing choices. They have portrayed Slash as a perverted, domineering, child-abusing savage, so Clear Sky the Settler can look good in comparison.
then Star Flower gets dragged off, kicking and struggling, feeble and completely unable to defend herself as clear sky thinks about how she might die along with his fetuses.
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Obviously Clear Sky is so very stressed out by all this and needs to blow off some steam, so he smacks the nearest woman and starts screeching about how Star Flower is more loyal than the son he abuses
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The first thing he does after the Slash event was physically assault the nearest woman. I can't... I don't have the words. Are you seeing this. Do you see what I am fucking dealing with. literally the first woman he sees.
"DOES THAT FEEL LIKE AN ACT??" He bellowed like a fucking wifebeater at the girl whose face is bleeding because he cut her in a fit of rage. That's fine as long as you don't lustfully lick it afterwards I guess!!!
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redheadspark · 3 months
Note
Hi! Could I request Oliver Wood with 1, 5 and/or 9, please?
A/N - Awww, so cute for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this, anon!
Sweet
Summary - Oliver was always sweet
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Warnings - Just some cute fluff :)
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“To the Gryffindor Quidditch Team for a slamming victory against Slytherin, and for being the unmatched Champions!”
The entire Common Room was cheering so loud that as windows were shaking from the mass volume.  Streams of Red and Gold were floating down from the high ceilings as Butterbeer was now being poured out from the barrels, brought in compliments from the Three Broomsticks and its owner for the victory over Slytherin.  It was a brutal game, too close to call every once in a while and everyone was on the edge of their seats.  But thanks to Harry Potter, being the fantastic seeker he was, he caught the snitch right at the right moment when it felt like Gryffindor was going to be defeated.
Victory never tasted so sweet.
You watched the game with excitement and drive, being a fan of the game yourself yet not wishing to be on the team since you were merely an okay flyer.  But you still loved showing your support to your house and for the exciting game, going to the matches when you needed a break from studying or from being in the castle.  
You watched as the Gryffindor team was being hugged and congratulated by the other Gryffindors students, yet your eyes were on the Captain himself.  Oliver Wood was shaking hands with everyone, his face filled with brightness and victory as he was hugging some of his friends and chatting with others while perched over at the desks along the wall.  You were being a wallflower by the stairs that head to the dorms, talking to one or two of your friends about the game as you saw Oliver look over in your direction.
The flicker in his eyes, how bright they were instead of the dark brown they usually were, and the small smile on his lips that was rare to see, made your heart stumble a bit.
“So, I’ve heard the Slytherin Captain is already ripping into his team about the game!  Thank goodness for Potter as our seeker!” One of your friends, a fellow 6th year, said in relief as you chuckled.
“Those Slytherins never stood a chance this year, especially with their chasers and how slow they were on their brooms,” You explained as your friends listened, “I swear, they use their brawn instead of their brains,”
“Oliver knew exactly how to block them anywho, even when they were being brutal on him!” Your other friends said in agreement as you took a sip from your butterbeer, “The team won’t be the same without him when he leaves!”
You simply smiled, knowing she was telling the truth while they both told you they were going grab some chocolate frogs that were donated from Honeydukes, thanks to the Wesley Twins and their mutual respect for the Honeydukes owner. You liked leaning against the wall, watching all of the Gryffindors chatting together and talking about the heated match, the sweet scent of sweets filling the air while someone else turned on a small radio to play music.  
It was then you felt a hand slip into yours from behind, a chest lightly pressed against your back and the swift scent of leather gloves filling your nostrils along with sweat.  You felt your heartbeat quicken and you lost your breath.
“Come with me,” You heard a whisper against your ear, feeling the hand tug you a bit as you went along in that direction.  You’re turned, an arm wrapping around your waist to tuck you into the deserted stairwell that leads to the dorm.  It was dark, the small glow from the Common Room was your only source of light as you were then kissing the person who stole you away from the party.
Oliver Wood, your boyfriend. And the love of your life.
You grinned against his lips as he wrapped you close in his arms, your fingers moving up to ruffle his hair that was still a bit wet from his shower after the game while his fingers were drumming against your lower waist.  Finally, you pulled away and pressed your forehead against his own as you two were simply holding each other.  The party was still going on, but it was now muffled a bit as Oliver finally spoke and looked at you with so much love in his eyes.
“I couldn’t find ya after the game-“ He started to explain as you shook your head.
“You were swarmed by everyone and you were celebrating, it’s okay—“ You reasoned, but Oliver hugged you tightly and a bit deeper.  You sighed, leaning into him to let him hold you a bit more.  Oliver always loved to hug you for more than a few seconds, almost drinking you in and not wishing to let the moment slip away.  He was always a fan of physical touch when it came to you, but it was simply like holding your hand or keeping an arm around you.  
You two have been dating for a year now, being friends first before acting on your feelings.  Even though he was an intense Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, he was softer when he was with you.  He liked it that way, his walls that he would have up would come down when it was the pair of you. 
“I wanted to find you first,” Oliver admitted against your hold as you simply held him tight, “You’ve been my biggest fan and put up with my schedule and all, and I just wanted to find ya and kiss ya in front of everyone,”
“I’d rather share a kiss with you with just the two of us,” You countered, Oliver pulling away and staring at you lovingly while you beamed at him, “I like what we have together, it’s just for us,”
It was true that you both hid your relationship from everyone else, but it was what you both wanted in the first place.  Oliver didn’t want his relationship with you to be known and to be scrutinized by his teammates, nor did you want to hear it from your friends as well.  It was nice to have something with just Oliver, being able to sneak away for the day at Hogsmeade on a Sunday, studying together during off hours in the library when everyone else was gone, or simply enjoying each other’s company.  
You still went to his matches to cheer him on, knowing it would build him up.  He would still help you study when you would struggle in classes.  You both lifted each other up in low times and brought joy in the higher times. Neither one of you wished for it to be tinted or stained, so keeping this between the pair of you was what was best.
“How about you and I celebrate on our own, a proper celebration?” You asked him, seeing him smile from the thought, “I know there is a private room at the Three Broomsticks that we can use,”
“How do you know that?” He asked in curiosity, you shrugging with a smirk on your face.
“Since I work there on the weekends and am on friendly terms with the owner…” You suggested though Oliver was chuckling, “And I didn’t get a thank you for the complimentary Butterbeer by the way,”
Oliver rolled his eyes, tucking you back in his hold some more as he lightly kissed your lips, “Thank you,” He paused, kissing you again, “Thank you,” Another Kiss that was deeper, “And thank you…”
His intense kiss made you swoon, and you both were tucked away from the raging party as you kissed under the shining moonlight that poured in.
The End.
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February Prompt Session
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Text
Happy 4th December - No, we are not there yet
Sorry in advance, this is a bit of rant, which is not something I usually post. But it's a wet Monday morning and I've had a really frustrating weekend, and today, on this anniversary of maybe the biggest piece of gaylor lore, the pictures and headlines I'm seeing just tipped me over the edge into a rant.
So, on this 4th December 2023 it is 9 years to the day that the world woke up to grainy pictures and videos of Taylor Swift, the world's most famous popstar and America's ultimate good girl, allegedly kissing a woman at a 1975 concert. And the tabloids and social media went crazy over it. And not in a good way. I remember the way I felt, so very nauseated about reading words like 'lesbian affair', 'shocking' and 'fling', not just on Taylor and Karlie's behalf, but the way it made me feel about myself, too. I was brutally reminded that 'lesbian' in 2014 was still seen as a dirty word and society's default was to see sapphic relationships as something scandalous and a fall from grace, rather than something beautiful. To this day I look at this photo and can't help but feel awed by the love and intimacy that their body language exudes, but the world didn't see it that way, they were just obsessing over whether they kissed or not and how to spin that into a dirty story.
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That was almost a decade ago. So, have we made progress? Is it all fixed and every queer person (especially artists and celebrities) can live authentically and freely? Well, no, of course not, as was possibly proven again this weekend by Billie Eilish, who confirmed that she is gay (more or less unplanned) in an interview. Nobody should be surprised as she was never subtle about her queerness, yet it cost her over 100,000 social media followers in just 24 hours after explicitly coming out. Being gay, especially for women, is only acceptable when mainstream society don't have to see it. Don't talk about it and God forbid, don't kiss in public. Never mind that straight people do it all the time. The very same tabloid paper that printed kissgate pictures with the word 'shocking' next to them, put Taylor on the cover two years later and described her romance with Tom Hiddleston as 'exciting' and 'sexy'. And on the very morning I see the tweet about Billie, I find this message in my inbox:
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Why indeed...? And I was of course expecting Taylor to show up at another football game, but to see her looking somber in a Carol-esque red fur coat, while her partner and all her friends are having a lovely time in LA... it just makes me angry today. Yes, maybe we've made progress in same ways, but we are still so far from where we need to be for everyone to be able to come out without repercussion. In a better world, Taylor would have been in a gorgeous dress next to her wife, rather than sitting next to the girl who would have bullied us in High School.
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(And btw, not only was Rebel Wilson blackmailed into coming out by the Sydney Morning Herold, she has lost thousands of followers and has pretty much focused on film making rather than acting since coming out. Maybe this was always her plan, but also, maybe not. Interesting, that film making is also seemingly becoming Taylor's second career leg...)
So, anon who sent me the question above, take this as my answer. Why is the most famous popstar in the world not out in 2023? Most likely because it would cost her so much of what she's worked hard for over the last 17 years. Not withstanding that the answer may also be 🛴 and what he did in 2019 that prevented her from coming out then, the world is just not a very good place for a celebrity to be anything other than straight, white and cisgender. And after 10 years of activism in LGBTQ+ organisations, today I feel a bit deflated by that. But with every single person who feels brave enough to shout their truth from the rooftops, we break down the walls a little more each time. 🌈
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crystals-cave · 6 months
Text
PAC: How will December 2023 be like for you?
Hey Everyone❄️
Welcome to your December 2023 reading🔮
We’re reaching the final month of this year!
For those of you going through winter right now, I hope you stay warm in the upcoming few months⛄️🎄
Pick a pile that sparks a memory in you - it could be a person/place/music/ object etc. If more than 1 pile sparks a memory in you, pick the pile that evokes the strongest emotions in you. However, if you feel strongly for both, you may go ahead and read more than 1 pile.
As this is a general reading, do take what resonates for you and take the rest with a pinch of salt.
Warning: this reading will be blunt and brutally honest. There will be no sugar-coating at all. Do keep it in mind as you proceed with this reading⚠️
Note: all pictures used in this reading are taken by me
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Pile 1 | Pile 2
Pile 3 | Pile 4
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Pile 1
10 of Swords
9 of Swords (rx)
King of Swords (rx)
The Hierophant
The Tower
Hello Pile 1 🌪️
First of all, I would like to congratulate you — most of you in this pile are about to go through a huge growth this month.
At the start of the month, I see that there is something on your mind hurting you so badly as though it is physical pain. Whatever on your mind haunts you even in your dreams. Your nightmares only stop once you get it off your chest, and whatever it is will be really ugly.
Despite all the hurt and cruelty it might bring, it is necessary to resolve it now than letting it snowball and hitting you back tenfold. The truth, be it good or bad, will always make you feel lighter than the lies that weigh you down.
Once you get it off your chest, things will slowly get better for you. For a great portion of you, I see that mercy is granted for you and you’re eventually forgiven. (Did you do someone/something wrong?) You will be surprised by this forgiveness but this incident in December is here to teach you an important life lesson.
For some, you’ll learn the pain of carrying guilt and lies, and the remaining of you will learn the weight of forgiveness.
Although it will be a rather heavy month for you, I would like to encourage you to stay strong. At times, growth can be casual and slow but other times we learn through mistakes/hardships.
Hang in there 🖤
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Pile 2
The Chariot (rx)
8 of Pentacles
Knight of Pentacles (rx)
3 of Wands (rx)
8 of Wands
King of Swords (rx)
Hi Pile 2 🍂
I know that you’ve been really been going though it for some time and things are pretty rough for you. You feel as though things never progress no matter how ward you work, as though everything is at a standstill. You may have thought that things will get better as you work but you just get discouraged everytime.
However, I see that this December will be the end of your stagnancy. What has been stillness before will be so full of activity you can hardly remember what quietness feels like. Everything will be busy.
Despite the change, you should also beware of jealousy. All the buzz that comes alive for you this month also attracts envy. While you can’t control how they feel about your positive change, you can protect yourself by not flaunting it to them. Afterall some people in their twisted way see flaunting as a green light to sabotage/backstab others.
Best wishes 🖤
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Pile 3
Strength
Judgement
3 of Pentacles
4 of Cups
2 of Pentacles (rx)
Welcome, Pile 3 🌻
For the earlier half of December, I see that you’re full of action. Even when you’re not on the move, you have this quiet confidence about yourself that people admire. Though I feel that you have always been like that.
As the month progresses, you’ll feel yourself go through a transformation. In the past, you realize that people always try to learn the way you do things — how you dress, how you speak etc. This time, it will be you who will try to learn from others instead. You start to see strengths of others and try to learn from them.
At the start, some of them may be put off and refuse to teach you as they believe you are just humouring them and not taking them seriously. As you show persistance, they will eventually cave and share with you their teachings.
When you realize that there is something to learn from everyone and initiate to connect and learn your peers, you are also starting an important exchange for everyone. I see that this exchange likely happens in a work/school setting and is likely to bring you to even greater heights.
All the best! 🖤
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Pile 4
The Moon
The High Priestess (rx)
Judgement (rx)
Knight of Cups
6 of Swords
The Star
Page of Wands (rx)
Hello Pile 4⚡️
Right off the bat, I see that you’ll be troubled for the earlier part of this December. You seem to have hidden foe(s) and have yet to uncover who they are or why they are against you.
It can be quite scary to deal with something like that, but life must still go on. Regardless of what is to come, you still have to carry on with life as per usual.
Around mid-December, there will be an arrival of a messenger to guide your way out of this trouble.
As happy as this ending may sound, this can actually trap you in an endless cycle. The root of the issue stems from your indecisiveness.
Dragging things out and prolonging your decisions will only cause confusion and uncertainty. If you are unsure, read up and consult others. If you still can’t decide, list out all your pros and cons and compare what you have more to gain or lose.
Irregardless of your choice, there will be those who support it and those who are against it. But at least you know of what people are unhappy about. Having a problem to solve is better than sitting ducks and leaving people hanging for an answer.
Stay strong 🖤
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x-candy-guts-x · 1 year
Text
Yautja x human ft worm on a string
I had some more thoughts :)
•It’s really interesting to me how humans are at their core a prey species. You can argue that forwards facing eyes are a trait of predators however it’s seen in basically all monkeys and apes and they are primarily vegetarians. They eat small prey like insects or small mammals but aren’t on the scale of say k-9’s, felines, and other obligatory carnivores. I believe it’s primarily a trait derived from our deeply social species. Our eyes are a huge part of our kinds communication wether we are looking at something or someone. We follow the direction of peoples eyes when talking. It’s been a great tool in our development.
•that being said I feel like predatory species like the yautja would find it fascinating to watch a human go from prey species to brutal predator in a matter of moments due to any given circumstances. Our instincts to danger are typically the five F’s. Fight, flight, freeze, fawn and faint. (For those of you who don’t know freeze is when you become unresponsive much like a deer in the headlight. Fawn is when you try to essentially suck up to the threat and get them to calm down and no longer be a threat. This is usually seen in abusive relationships where people will try to appease their abusor by avoiding conflict or doing whatever they can to get the abusor in a good mood again even at their own detriment. And faint is well.. faint lol.)
•Humans developed carrion stomachs due to our tendency to go after the largest strongest prey possible. We had so much meat we couldn’t eat it all and it would spoil. Our stomachs developed strong acids to kill bacteria in meat that has been sitting.
•humans are one of the only species on the planet to actively hunt the largest and strongest of any animal in a given herd/group. Which I think is something the yautja relate too.
•for humans this was out of necessity. The biggest animal provided the most food for our large social groups. We needed to provide the most food for our people. And our ability to kill from a distance and out do our prey in endurance allowed us to not have to worry about energy expenditure like big cats who hunt alone and need to conserve as much as possible thus hunting whatever is the easiest.
•we did this for so long that we developed predatory instincts. However at our core we still have prey instincts. Your yautja finds that cute. :)
•he is much larger, stronger and deadlier than you without armor and weapons. Sharp teeth and claws with a scaled hide and muscle structure that could knock over a bus is nothing to sneeze at. He absolutely adores the difference between the two of you. Your much smaller form with soft skin and tiny blunt teeth and nails is endearing. But this also makes him extra worried for you when you go hunting. He has to remember that humans are fine predators but only when they have someone else to rely on.
•humans are NOT meant to be alone. In virtually anything. Todays society will have you believe in toxic ideals like pulling yourself up by your boot straps and not needing to rely on anyone. But humans at their very core are meant to be in large deeply socially bonded groups. It takes a village to raise 1 human properly. And our society has forgotten that. Your yautja finds it deeply unsettling when he finds out that your culture is not as social as it seems from the outside looking in. With everyone living so close together and there being so many people in such small areas you’d think everyone would know everybody. But it couldn’t be further from the truth. Single parents and fear stricken neighbors run rampant in most of the cities. So when he sees you pack bonding with a roomba he takes it upon himself to be your best friend.
•that’s another thing. Humans are so social we pack bond with virtually anything. We crave intimacy so badly (not like that you pervs) that we will pack bond with ANYTHING. You name it. A dog? So common. A car? Strange to him but not uncommon for one to become at least a little attached to something important like that. A fuzzy noodle with googly eyes attached? It’s a worm on a string? Ok we’re getting you some help.
•your getting dragged to an oomanologist and he prescribes you a pet.
•your pet ate the worm on a string
•there were tears
•he’s secretly happy about it
•he actually tried to get rid of it several times. Garbage shoot? You walked in on him mid act. Burn it? The bastard wouldn’t even reach the fire because the string kept getting tangled to twigs and branches that hovered above it. A tall shelf? Well he found you sitting on top of the fridge like a gargoyle once so that was out of the question.
•your yautja regularly has to remember that he’s a lot bigger than you and you are so smol. His voice alone can startle you if your not expecting it! There goes the prey instincts again. Loud noises are not your friend that’s for sure.
•did you know that in alien vs predator they used tiger roar sound effects for the yautja roars? They actually do this in a lot of movies and it pisses me off especially when they attach it to things like mountain lions who literally can’t roar but that’s besides the point- anyway tiger roars are actually capable of STUNNING their prey. There’s something about the volume and frequency that actually temporarily stubs other creatures. If the yautja canonically roar similar to tigers and he accidentally stuns you OmG.
•so much purring
•he’s on his knees hugging you trying to make himself small.
•this dude cannot navigate your human home.
•he broke a dining room chair sitting in it
• he’s too big for the hallways without ducking and turning sideways partially sometimes.
•hand holding is so cute. Ur hands are just so tiny compared to his
•he does research on monkeys and sees how grooming is a very important social que and he connects this to humans. Unfortunately he didn’t think that humans were so prudish around nudity so when he just picked you up and threw you into a big tub he was NOT ready for those hands.
•predator instincts activate 🔫
•he almost drowned
•mildly scared of you
•your so small how are you that strong
•when y’all do get comfortable enough though he loves bath time :)
•scratches your little head with his claws (lightly) a lot
•plays with your hair a lot especially in the tub
•your self care routine becomes his care for human routine
•honestly? He fucking prides himself on how well taken care of you are. He flaunts you like you have a pedigree
• “my ooman is better than yours”
•que fight
•you become friends with the other human and while they’re fighting, you guys are sitting in the dirt playing games.
•they come back like ?? Hello? Did you not see us? WERE U EVEN WATCHING?
•you get mad at him? He went and got you new worms
•all the colors
•he has a worm for his ships dash. He chills. Sometimes you catch him playing with it
•I had more ideas but I forgot
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questintheskies · 2 months
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1. CM Punk says people in AEW felt “betrayed” when he visited WWE Raw backstage in May 2023.
2. CM Punk confirms that no one came to pick him up at the airport for AEW All In, didn’t cry about it, calls it irresponsible.
3. CM Punk says he told Tony Khan that “this place [AEW] is a fucking joke, you're a clown”. Then he quit AEW.
4. “I don't like the drama but the truth is the truth. He's not a boss, he's a nice guy. That's a detriment to the company [AEW] but it's not my company." — CM Punk when asked about Tony Khan
5. CM Punk talking about AEW: Says it’s not a real or sustainable business, not about selling tickets, not about drawing money. Having good matches maybe which there’s nothing wrong with. Will always exist as long as Tony Khan keeps pumping money into it.
6. “If you're more than happy with some goof saying you had a 5 star match & the building is a quarter full…then we're not in the same business." — CM Punk
7. CM Punk was a consultant to Tony Khan in AEW, working with 2 contracts. One was a talent contract, the other was the consultant contract.
8. CM Punk believed AEW was an alternative to what WWE was. But 90% of the problems he had or identified about AEW were the very things that made AEW different…
He's happy that AEW exists because it allows wrestlers to make more money, but then also says "guaranteed money kind of ruined pro wrestling. If you had to get paid off the house, things would be a lot different"
9. CM Punk on the infamous Hangman Page promo before DoN.
Says Hangman went off the script, and that he wanted to double leg him and “murder” him on live TV if it wasn't for his professionalism. Says he went to TK and the lawyers to get the situation fixed.
10. CM Punk says nobody in AEW talked to him for 6 months after Brawl Out, he had to sort his tricep surgery by himself. He says the difference between getting injured in both companies is “night and day”
11. “I don’t regret my time there (AEW). Im just brutally honest about some things — And it’s done.
I hope they’re happy, I known I am. I would like to leave it at that. I understand fans and the tribalism, I’m a Blackhawks, I’m a Chicago Cubs fan, so I will always troll and needle White Sox fans, or Blues fans, or Predator’s you know?
But some of the shit was so outlandish, talking about my Dog and all this awful stuff”
12. CM Punk says before joining AEW, he was close to re-joining WWE, even before being on WWE Backstage.
He said they had a handshake deal in place but then it didn’t happen. He says Nick Khan lead the charge even before Khan joined WWE as he was with CAA.
13. CM Punk says stories of him being violent backstage are overblown and not true. (Earlier he admitted to choking a co-worker backstage and wanting to murder Hangman Adam Page for going off script)
14. CM Punk didn't have a non-compete clause after being fired from AEW.
15. Samoa Joe told him to stop acting up at All In Wembley, so he did. Then he turned to Khan and told him, “This place is fucking joke, man. You’re a clown. I quit.” Joe and Jerry Lynn came to his room and got him to do the PPV opening match. He said he was “too fired up” then and now rehashing it, and will probably regret talking about it, but “that’s what happened.”
16. He says he wrestled the match for Joe, referee Paul Turner, Lynn who was the agent on the match, and the fans. But he knew it was his last time wrestling Joe, and in the company.
17. He hasn’t spoken to Khan since backstage at Wembley when he quit. He didn’t do anything to make him fear for his life, as Khan said when announcing Punk’s firing on Dynamite, but Punk sayd “he is who he is.” He believes there was a “concerted effort to try to slander [him] and try to ruin [his] character.”
18. Spreading “rumors and lies and bullshit” was the genesis of all his issues at AEW. He thinks it might have been jealousy or envy, but doesn’t understand why anyone would try to dim the star of the company’s top guy.
19. Punk says his remarks at the post-All In scrum weren’t planned, but when he saw “reporters” there who are friends with other wrestlers and who wrote things about him without checking with him, it set him off. He does say it’s in his “top three CM Punk promos”, though.
20. There was nothing it the scrum that Khan hadn’t heard before. Punk doesn’t think he can talk about what happened afterwards. Confirms he is referring to Brawl Out, but says he “didn’t have to sign an NDA for anything I did wrong.” He has nothing he wanted to hide, but Khan wanted him to sign an NDA — he doesn’t know why.
21. As to why he did agree to come back, “I have a lot of friends there”, and Khan wasn’t going to let him go. Rather than sit at home, he thought he’d try to “get some guys together and have some fun shows.”
22. Asked if there’s anything he’s proud of from his time in AEW, he says he made a lot of friends and got to a lot of “cool shit” — specifically mentioning getting to work with Sting. “I think the positives outweigh the negatives”.
23. He talks about attending an indie show recently and telling someone that what happens there works at that level, as evidenced by it selling out an arcade bar, “but that shit doesn’t fly on national television — I think that’s being proven right now.”
24. He’s proud of the work he did with MJF, and thinks MJF’s future is bright as he’s immensely talented. He wasn’t great when he catered to the “niche internet audience”.
25. Punk doesn’t think he’ll ever bury the hatchet with Colt Cabana. He says Cabana approached him at some point before the All Out ‘22 incident, but he told him he wouldn’t speak to him without a lawyer present.
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maia-radfemdu · 1 year
Note
Russophobia isn’t any better than Islamophobia. It’s not cute how jingoistic the left has gotten, y’all are seriously worse than the right after 9/11.
Whatever u say bestie <3 I'm Eastern European. Russia has put the entire region through hell for centuries. There's a lot of genetational trauma surrounding Russia in my country due to them being absolutely brutal and raping everything that moved during WW2. My great grandma remembered those times. There are women alive right now who used to hid as young girls because Russians would come and destroy evreything they could get their hands on. Sounds a bit too familiar, doesn't it? I'm sorry I don't care about the victimization of poor little innocent Russians who go around putting destroyed Mariupol as their aesthetic wallpaper and think it's glorious to rape and murder Ukrainian children whose only fault is being Ukrainian. I'm sorry I don't care about people who think they have the superior culture and have done evreything they could to erase not just one other culture off the map, but several others. I'm sorry I don't care about Russians who go to ex USSR countries expecting evreyone to cater to them and think it's a violation of human rights not to speak to them in Russian. I'm sorry I don't care about people who have looted my country and took away chunks of it just because they could and wanted to. I'm sorry I don't care about people who are actively committing genocide as we speak and have forced friends dear to me to live a life that could crumble at any given moment, a life without any security and guarantee, a life of agony and seeing evreything they hold dear destroyed, spat on and left to rot. I have a friend who was forced to take her young baby and raise him in a country she knew nothing of, completely alone. Why? We both know why.
Truth is I AM NOT SORRY and never will be! Not for Russians who bask in their colonial glory. The truth is the majority of them support the genocide against Ukrainians, and those who don't are apathetic towards it and adopt the same lethargic laissez-faire attitude they always had. It's not them, it's never them. Except it is.
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tarotwitchy · 2 years
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{pick-a-card readings}
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PILE 1 — 2 — 3
PILE 4 — 5 — 6
It's been quite a while since my last PAC, so... here I am, back with another one!
This PAC's theme is "What is your Secret Power" that you can use to your advantage in your life's pursuit and interaction with people.
This is a general reading. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn't. You can choose up to 2 piles.
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Pile 1
Queen of Wands • Page of Wands • 5 of Cups • 6 of Wands • 10 of Swords • 6 of Pentacles
🤎 Resilience
🤎 Perseverance
🤎 Risk-taker
🤎 Positive Outcome-oriented
🤎 Patience and forgiving with oneself
[Your Secret Power is that you are a Fighter. Not the brawler type. You're the one that fights for their life, and their right to enjoy freedom. You're also very resilient and perseverant in the face of challenges that can easily demolish others' ego. You take calculated risks that you think will yield the best outcome, and you are a positive thinker. When faced with a setback, you don't allow yourself to stay in the dumps for long. You can pick yourself back up, and keep moving forward].
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Pile 2
7 of Wands • Queen of Cups • Knight of Cups • 2 of Swords • 3 of Wands • The Fool
🤎 Emotionally Mature
🤎 Gentle, yet firm
🤎 Outspoken
🤎 Open-minded
🤎 Pioneer
[Your Secret Power is that you are an Advocate. You are a champion of the underdogs, and of yourself. Whenever you see injustice happening around you, you're not afraid to speak up and defend your beliefs. Your open-mindedness serves as a gift that keep on giving, as you use it to expand your worldview that positively impacts not only your own life but the lives and the environment of other people. You believe that emotional maturity is very integral for humanity to move forward as a whole. Fresh ideas also come to you quite easily].
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Pile 3
High Priestess • The Lovers • Knight of Pentacles • 9 of Cups • 9 of Wands • Strength
🤎 Truth-seeker
🤎 Decisiveness
🤎 Determined
🤎 Objective
🤎 Dignified
[Your Secret Power is that you are the Defender of the Truth! You're the one who people go to when they need to know the truth about themselves, and their situations because you see through them unbiased. You don't like sugarcoating the real facts because you know — by experience — that people's self-development are hindered by false pretenses. You also would prefer that others tell you the truth as it is than being kept in the dark. And you absolutely take pride in your objectivity in deciding upon things, and not being blinded by sweet-talkers! Most probably, you're the type of person to find out the real truths of a certain thing that someone is trying to convince people about].
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Pile 4
Page of Swords • Knight of Cups • The Star • Page of Wands • Agape • The Hanged Man
🤎 Innovative
🤎 Inclusive
🤎 Self-awareness
🤎 Groundedness
🤎 Healing-oriented
[Your Secret Power is that you are a Healer. You have seen and experienced the pains of life firsthand, and your soul is called upon to mitigate the suffering of others — and of yourself. You believe that even though life is as harsh as it is, we need not make it harder and more painful for one another. Hence, you think of empathetic ways to make sure you and the people around you are tapping into their highest self. You also don't believe that one person's pain is greater than the other; you believe that all is valid, and it isn't a competition. The world desperately needs more people like you, in all honesty].
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Pile 5
10 of Wands • Death • 7 of Swords • The Moon • 6 of Wands • 5 of Pentacles
🤎 Adaptable
🤎 Acknowledging
🤎 Responsible
🤎 Cunning
🤎 Self-preserving
[Your Secret Power is that you are The Balance. With all these cards present, you know the spoils of life can be brutal, and can easily make any person weary and hopeless. This is why you are given the ability to discern when to strive the hardest, and when to fold your cards and preserve your energy. You also understand that hard work does not always yield victory. There will always be losses to cut, but you know how to play the unfair game of life with shrewdness. You can harness this power by elevating yourself above others who undermined your abilities, and yet, still keep a level head to keep you afloat from all the negativities other people try to pass on to you].
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Pile 6
10 of Wands • Ace of Wands (R) • Queen of Cups • Page of Cups • Agape • 4 of Wands
🤎 Benevolent
🤎 Courageous
🤎 Giving
🤎 Fair and Just
🤎 Dedicated
[Your Secret Power is that you are The Guardian. Do not be mistaken; kindness is not synonymous with weakness. And a lot of people will find that out as soon as they misstep the boundaries of your benevolent. You have the insight to nurture kindness and goodness amongst all of us in order to lessen the influence of hatred and greediness. You believe that being good can be practiced and should be taught at a young age so that children can grow up to be well-rounded and empathic adults that can positively impact their community. As they say, the prevention of wrongdoings is infinitely better than doing damage control, and that is the power given to you].
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If you liked this reading, consider purchasing a personalized tarot reading from me! ✨
{masterlist}
Copyright © 2022 by TarotWitchy
[Do not repost, copy, or reword]
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