#Christ has come to teach his people himself

[theinwardlight]

Faith is fearful and defensive when it begins to die inwardly, struggling to maintain itself and reaching out for security and guarantees. In so doing, it removes itself from the hand of the one who has promised to maintain it, and its own manipulations bring it to ruin... [This] occurs wherever, in the face of the immorality of the present age, the gospel of creative love for the abandoned is replaced by the law of what is supposed to be Christian morality, and by penal law. He who is of little faith looks for support and protection for his faith, because it is preyed upon by fear. Such a faith tries to protect its 'most sacred things', God, Christ, doctrine and morality, because it clearly no longer believes that these are sufficiently powerful to maintain themselves.

Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God

#Jürgen Moltmann #The Crucified God #christ #christianity #inward faith #faith #christ has come to teach his people himself #creative love #gospel #theology

[munson-blurbs]

Headcanon: Eddie is a boob man. Best friend Eddie would one day notice your boobs (maybe in a bathing suit or a low cut top or something) and they become his new obsession hehe

Us? Projecting? Never.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unwanted boners, semi-public masturbation (m), Eddie's a perv but he's not thrilled about it, Reader has boobs but no size is given (Eddie loves all boobs, let's be real)

WC: 1.3k

Divider credit to @saradika

Stupid D20. 

Stupid Dustin for tossing it so far across the table. 

Stupid low-cut shirt that exposes your chest when you lean over to collect the die, giving Eddie a stupid boner in the middle of Hellfire Club. 

“Hey, Ed!” Gareth calls out impatiently, snapping his fingers in front of the Dungeon Master’s face. “You wanna tell us if we defeated the demogorgon, or are you just gonna stare off into space?”

Eddie clears his throat. “Sorry. Right.” He tries his best to proceed with the campaign as usual, but all he can think about are your boobs and how grateful he is to be sitting down right now. 

When he adjourns the meeting, he’s still too hard to stand without someone noticing. “I’m just gonna, uh, hang back and brainstorm for a few,” he lies as smoothly as he can. 

“Can’t wait to see what sadistic shit you come up with,” Mike says. The rest of the guys slap him five in agreement as they clamor out the door. 

The only people left in the room are you and Eddie. 

Of course. 

“You don’t have to stick around, Sweetheart.” He tries not to sound too dismissive, plastering a smile on his face. 

“You’re my ride.”

Shit. “Oh. Right.” He hedges a nervous laugh. “I’ll be ready in five.”

You nod. “No worries. I’ll run to the girls’ room while I wait.” Before reaching the door, you notice that Lucas’s character sheet has fluttered to the ground. You reach down and scoop it up, revealing the tops of your bra-covered breasts. 

“Sinclair owes me,” you chirp, placing the paper back on the table, remaining utterly oblivious to the way Eddie is straining against his zipper once again. 

To Eddie’s credit, he tries to stop thinking about them. He really, truly does. 

You’re his best friend. He doesn’t want to constantly think about your boobs, or the way they’d feel pressed against his bare chest, or whether your nipples would harden if he sucked on them, or—

“Mr. Munson!” Ms. O’Donnell’s shrill screech snaps him out of his breast-induced stupor. “Is there a reason why you can’t be bothered to listen while I’m trying to teach?”

“N-No, ma’am.”

She huffs out an irritated sigh. “Since you must know everything already, why don’t you come up and solve the problem for us?” She taps the piece of chalk against the blackboard, leaving tiny white dots in its wake. 

Eddie shakes his head, feeling his cheeks burn red. Humiliating himself when he can’t figure out the value of x will be bad enough, but to fail while his sail is at half-mast? He’ll never recover. 

Fortunately, the old bird relents and turns back to the board to continue her lesson. 

Crisis averted. 

Except…is it?

Because the only thing—things, rather—on Eddie’s mind are your tits. And he isn’t supposed to be imagining himself caressing them while you’re bouncing on his cock, moaning his name, saying that only he can make you feel that good…

He’s racing out of his seat the moment the bell rings, making a mad dash for the Hellfire room, relieved to see that it’s unoccupied. The door barely closes behind him before he’s ambling towards his DM throne and frantically tugging down his jeans and boxers. 

“Fucking Christ,” he whispers, inhaling sharply as his cock is free of its denim restraint. He wraps his hand around it and squeezes in his desperation for an ounce of relief. Pre-cum already leaks from his red, angry tip, and he knows from experience that this is not going away without some…intervention. 

Eddie reluctantly lets go of himself and spits into his open palm. He bites his lower lip to stifle a burgeoning moan as he slowly works his shaft, fingers tightening to simulate what he imagines to be the way you’d feel. 

“Thassit, mmmf, feels s’good.” He closes his eyes and rests the back of his head on his chair. He needs you underneath him so he can watch your breasts jiggle with each snap of his hips. 

“Bet you want my cum, huh? Where do you want it?” Eddie keeps his voice low, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Want it on those pretty tits of yours? Yeah, you fuckin’ do.”

His fist flies over his hardness, choked whimpers escaping his lips. He feels pleasure begin to build and moans your name to bring himself over the edge. 

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s head snaps forward, taking a moment to let reality seep in. He’s not buried deep within you; he’s jerking off in a dark room where he plays Dungeons & Dragons, and you’re standing in the doorway. 

“Eds? You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. ‘M fine,” he lies, silently brainstorming ways to tuck himself back into his pants without you noticing. 

You arch a disbelieving brow. “You sure? Lucas said he saw you running down the hallway—”

“I’m fine!” He insists louder this time. Shaking his head, he bites his lip and attempts to collect himself. 

The two of you have been friends for too long; you know that he’s far from fine when he raises his voice. You walk to him, determined to figure out what’s wrong. 

And then you see it. 

Eddie says nothing, fully focused on covering himself as best he can and avoiding eye contact. 

It doesn’t take long for you to put the pieces together: semi-hard cock in his hand, sweat beading on his forehead, the pleading mentions of your name. 

“Eddie.” You let your fingertips brush against his shoulder. “Did I interrupt?”

He only nods in response. 

“What were you thinking about?”

Eddie exhales a long breath before answering. “You,” he finally answers. “And th-that shirt you wore yesterday.” His cock twitches at the mere reminder of it. 

You grin knowingly. You’d bought it at the mall specifically because of its low-cut neckline, hoping it would catch Eddie’s attention. 

Apparently, it very much had. 

“You liked it?” 

“Loved it.” He starts stroking himself again, almost unaware of his own movements. “Want you to wear it every damn day,” he adds with a hoarse chuckle. 

Swiping your tongue over your lower lip, you lean in and whisper in his ear, “What if I didn’t wear one at all?”

With that, you lift your shirt over your head and unhook your bra, letting them both fall to the ground unceremoniously. Eddie’s eyes widen, gazing at your exposed chest. 

“Oh, baby,” he breathes, his free hand reaching out to touch them. His thumb grazes one nipple and he gives your breast a gentle squeeze. “Baby, they’re perfect.”

You smile, using your hip to nudge the table away and get on your knees in front of him. “Keep going, Eds.”

He nods again, shifting forward a bit so you’re between his legs. “Gonna…gonna cum all over these perfect tits,” he grunts. “Please. Please, I gotta…”

“You can cum on them, Eds.”

And, fuck, does he. Thick ropes spill out of his cock, painting your chest in a sticky film. He’s crying out your name as he does it, milking every last drop. 

He floats down from the high, staring at your chest and admiring the way he’s claimed you. “That…wow,” he manages, laughing nervously. “Let me clean you up.” He reaches for the tissues, wiping whatever is still leaking out of him before sopping up the mess on your breasts. 

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he admits sheepishly, wadding up the Kleenex and tossing it into the trash. “Like, do I take you on a date? Bend you over the table?” He says the second option teasingly, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t turn you down if you agreed to it. 

You re-clasp your bra and shrug on your shirt. “We could try a date,” you say as casually as you can. 

“Dinner and a movie?”

“I’ll wear that shirt.”

--

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #smut #requests

[hammity-hammer]

steve harrington realizing that he’s got no purpose if he’s not protecting the people he loves from outer-dimensional beings, and has a minor (read: major) spiral about it post-vecna & the party fixing everything. he’s just a regular ole 20 something with no purpose— his friends are all in school, except eddie, who managed to pick up an apprenticeship as an electrician; putting all of that wire knowledge to use (just not in cars, he hasn’t hotwired one since 1986 and he’d like to keep it that way si vous plais) and making the rich houses have even cooler guts than they deserve.

the kids end up graduating (their first tries) and heading as one little pack to the same school (don’t ask me which, i’m a college drop out) and steve, eddie, and rob end up staying just outside of indy. rob finished school early, because of course she did, and she found that she may have a knack for hanging around high schoolers, so why not teach them how to become polyglots like she is?

steve still doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing— he bartends at a little club in the gayborhood, because they went there so often that the bartenders just kind of pushed him into it, and don’t get him wrong— mixing drinks and flirting all night is super fun, but it also… is kind of depressing? even if he gets to be around people like him and see them happy— he knows that a lot of alcohol and drugs causes that happiness and he wants so badly for his people to be out and proud and not murdered for it. but he can’t do that,, so he does the next best thing.

he talks with one of the regulars, andy, who owns a little tattoo shop on the corner, and andy invites him to come check it out. so he does the next day he’s free, and holy fucking christ. tattoos aren’t his thing— at least not on himself, but on other people they’re gorgeous. and they’re painful, but you’re turning the pain into art and you get to live with it in your skin and look at it and think about the fact that you’re here and you made it and you fucking survived. and people purposefully put scars into their bodies? and not in the i-battled-literal-other-dimensional-beings-and-won kind of way, or the i-battled-my-personal-demons-and-won kind of way, which both are things he’s dealt with so fucking intimately— but in the i-will-decorate-this-flesh-prison-and-make-it-a-castle kind of way, and that’s fucking beautiful. queer people taking their bodies and making them into art with ink and hot metal and needles and the love that they have for each other and the passion and the fucking spite at the world that keeps them going and making their presences KNOWN.

and maybe he gets some piercings while he’s there— it’s fascinating and feels so weird and freeing when the needle punctures his flesh and the jewelry goes in— and now he’s got a shiny little ring hanging through his earlobe; his nostril; his lip.

he learns that piercings take time and effort and care and that he has to treat himself with love to be able to heal— and that he is deserving of that love and care and dedication, especially from himself.

he keeps going back, maybe not always to get stabbed, but to watch others have it done. to see how different people’s anatomy takes different piercings, how he can’t have a piercing through his cheeks because he bites them too much when he’s anxious, but the girl that just left got both of hers done and they looked good. they fit her face, like little shiny dimples.

eventually, the piercer, killie, asks steve when he’s going to help them with their needles and their piercings— and he doesn’t know how to react because he hadn’t even thought about it and yet… maybe he could help other people fall in love with themselves and their bodies and help turn them into art one day

maybe he could be a pretty boy with his scars and his metal and his missing chunks and his polos and his jeans and his sneakers.

#steve harrington #i just love him your honor #steve as a piercer would be so cute #piercer!steve #im obsessed with this and sent ro a 5 minute long voice memo today talking about him #because he is near and dear to myheart #as someone that got into piercing to help other people feel beautiful #i think that he would love this #and i absolutely think that he wouldnt know what the fuck to do post vecna #and get jealous that everyone else has a thing #and he doesnt have one #because all of his things were always things he shared #and this is one thing that he shares— but not with his friends #just with the people that own the lives that he’s changing #one stabbing at a time #also queer people in the 80s are the reason we even have the modern day piercing industry and i owe them my life #and the piercer’s name is inspired by the person that pierced my lobes when i was five #and my mom indeed has dimple piercings #so those are my little art inspired by life or whatever moments

[justmeinatree]

Let Passion Get Too Much

Summary : niall x louis x reader threesome. that’s all it is.

TW : smut, threesome, anal, double penetration

Word Count : 3.2k

the timing could not have been worse. and why the fuck do connecting doors to hotel rooms not come automatically locked ? neither niall or yourself ever even thought of checking. assuming, for obvious security purposes, that the door would absolutely be locked.

maybe it was the fact that you knew louis was staying on the other side, the fact that actual danger wasn’t present. 

but now, you wholeheartedly wished one of you had checked. because niall was laying on the bed, back sitting slightly up against the headboard, stark naked. and you were on your knees, next to him, hand rolling down niall’s rock hard length, spreading a bead of precum, also stark naked. 

with a bit of pressure on his cock, niall’s eyes closed, a breathy whine could be faintly heard from the back of his throat, making you literally dribble arousal onto the mattress beneath you. 

and that’s the moment louis comes waltzing in, “did i leave my smokes here ?” he asks, looking around the room, not having looked up at you yet.

both you and niall do nothing but stare at louis, frozen into position, your hand wrapped around the base of niall’s cock, one of niall’s hands gripped into your ass. 

but then louis looks up, takes in the scene in front of him, eyes wide, “fuckin hell, please dont cover up on my account,” he exclaims sarcastically.

“teach you to fuckin knock mate,” niall’s hand leaves your body, scrubbing over his face, groaning, “could you please hurry up. we’re kind of busy, yeah”

louis shakes his head, keeping his eyes down, looking around the seating area of the hotel room, where you’d all spent the evening passing joints around, and catching up.

“can’t fuckin find them,” louis mutters to himself, loud enough to make niall groan again, “c’mon louis.”

but you look over at niall, and christ, he knows that look all too well. you want something. something that surely isn’t going to necessarily be in his favour, judging by the size of puppy eyes you were flashing.

and then it dawns on him. a conversation you’d had a long time ago. about wanting to have a threesome. you wanted to try it, finally felt comfortable enough with a partner to know that you’d be totally safe. and with that in mind, other than niall, louis’ the next person in line, in terms of comfort.

“you can’t be fuckin serious,” niall blurts out, eyes locked on yours. “s’him you want ?”

because you’d never explicitly mentioned a name, just said that you’d know it when the time was right. and honestly, what could be more right time than this ?

“hey, you said you wouldn’t judge,” you pout at him, puppy eyes getting bigger, as you look down at him.

“christ, m’not judging, just- c’mon, it’s louis,” niall groans, scrubbing his face again. this was not how niall imagined his night going. he never imagined you’d pick louis of all people. although the more he thinks about it, the more it seems fairly comfortable for everyone. 

but louis’ ears perk up at the mention of his name, looking over again, keeping his eyes up by your faces now that he knows he has to. “sorry, sorry, fuck, they’re not here. i’ll leave, sorry again.”

“louis, wait,” niall calls out, making your eyes go wide, figuring this means that he’s agreed.

louis turns around, looking over at niall, “what is it ?”

niall takes a deep breath, looking over louis with a bit of a chuckle, “christ- “ he cuts himself off, looking at you again, “sure about this ?”

you quickly nod, looking over at louis, “join us ?” you ask lightly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. because to you it was. by now, you’d become really close friends with louis. you were incredibly comfortable with him, there was no shame or awkward discomfort for you in this conversation.

“you- what ?” louis laughs, “are you serious ?”

“please, louis,” you look over at him, biting your lip, crawling off the bed, leaving niall to sit up straighter against the headboard, watching the interaction between you two.

louis’ eyes roam the expanse of your exposed self as you approach him, he was only human afterall, but your body is quickly shielded from his gaze, as you step right up to him, body pressed against his.

his eyes flick over to niall, as his hands instinctively went to your hips, checking in with him, only to find niall nodding back at him, giving him the okay, “s’her you should be checking with.”

as louis’ eyes land on yours again, he finds you smiling back at him, “s’okay to touch. i want you to. will you please join us ?” at the flash of hesitation in his eyes, you add softly, “no shame, louis. if you don’t want to, just say, we’ll never mention it again.”

you watch as his gaze flick between you and niall, two of his best mates, whom are dating and have been for quite some time. but he doesn’t want to say no. he’s curious. 

“what are the rules then ?” louis asks softly, smirking down at you, a wide smile taking over your features, as you make your way back to the bed, pulling him behind you.

you crawl back up onto the mattress, your hand colliding with louis’ chest as he attempts to follow you, his eyebrows furrowing. “gotta strip first,” you smile at him, wanting him naked.

louis chuckles, stripping his clothes off quickly, not wanting to think this through too much, going on feeling, joining you and niall on the bed, looking at you both expectantly, “anything i shouldn’t do then ?”

you look over at niall, having a silent conversation with your eyes, niall shaking his head, “for tonight, nothing’s off limits. we just go with the flow. if anything’s ever not feeling good, we speak up.”

at that, you nod, looking over at louis, who’s nodding as well, his fingertips gliding down your backbone, following the dip in your back, rounding out over your bum.

niall reaches for your hand, pulling you close again, to lock his lips with yours, his cock still incredibly hard.

you groan, getting momentarily lost in the kiss, swinging your leg over his, straddling his thighs, as your hands tangle into his hair.

louis comes up behind you, both hands gripping into the swell of your ass, spreading you apart, his hardening length gliding between your cheeks, biting his lip as he watches.

“think you’ll be able to take us both, love ?” louis asks, watching the head of his dick catch on your puckered hole. watching your body clench every single time.

you whimper against niall’s lips, pulling away momentarily to answer louis, “fuck yes, please. want you both. wanna be so full.”

“such a good girl hmm ?” louis murmurs, pulling his member away from you, in favour of watching his thumb roll around your hole, pressing gently, massaging your tight ring of muscles. “just want to please, dont you ?”

“she’s the fuckin best,” niall hums, biting on your lip, his fingertips tickling over your tummy on their way to grope your breasts, thumbing over your pert nipples. “can’t wait to show off what she can do.”

your hips roll down against niall’s cock, listening to them talk about you as if you weren’t right there, a glimmer of pride from your boyfriend, an intense turn on you seemingly didn’t even realize you had.

“getting a bit needy aren’t ya petal ?” niall groans, having been so hard for what feels like forever now. he watches you nod, your cunt dripping down onto niall’s length steadily, as he passes a bottle of lube over to louis. “she’s done this plenty. shouldn’t take too too much.”

you instantly feel the heat rising up your neck to your cheeks, embarrassment evident in your features now that louis knows you’ve enjoyed anal a bit more than you’ve ever cared to admit.

but niall knows you well, catching the look etched on your face, fingers darting out to smooth over your cheek, as you feel the dribble of cool lube leaving the bottle and hitting your hole.

you flinch slightly, feeling yourself clench, hiding your face in niall’s neck, feeling his hands run up and down your back in comfort, hearing him coo against your hair, “dont need to be embarrassed, pet.”

louis’ eyes flick up at the mention of embarrassment, just as the tip of his middle finger breaches your hole, a breathy moan now fogging up niall’s neck, “s’just me lovie,” louis hums, the tightness around his finger not going unnoticed. “fuckin love that you wanna take us both. love that you’re ready for it.”

louis works his way up to 3 fingers, twisting them around inside you, petting your inner walls, learning what it is that makes you moan loudest. so far, he’s absolutely obsessed with all your pretty sounds, loves that he’s the one able to elicit them from you too.

“think you’re ready, beautiful,” louis coos, his fingers slipping out of you, both hands now gripped into your bum again, watching the gape he’s created. “who’s going first ?”

“ni, please,” you whimper, blinking at niall, watching him nod, needing to feel some sort of relief, your cunt absolutely weeping for it.

“help me, petal,” niall hums, not having the best angle as you’re straddled onto him. without a second though, you reach down, sitting yourself onto his hard length, a loud relief filled moan echoing through the room, from both you and niall.

you work your hips over him a few times, head tipping back onto louis’ shoulder, biting your lip as you breathe in his musky scent. it was so different from niall, yet incredibly comforting as well.

louis’ face dips down to kiss along your shoulder and into your neck, leaving tentative licks as he does, getting a taste at your sweet self for the first time. he couldn’t deny ever having thoughts about you, he always thought you were gorgeous. but he’s met you as niall’s girlfriend, and learned to push the thoughts aside because of it.

but this moment, now that he’s gotten the okay, and he’s slowly pushing into you, his mind goes completely blank.

with your head still leaned on louis’ shoulder, your body starts lightly trembling, breathing getting shallow as you’ve never felt so incredibly full in your life, “fuck, fuck,” you whimper breathily, bottom lip quivering.

louis’ arms were wrapped around your body, holding you up against him, niall’s fingers digging into your hips, as louis’ cock slowly starts thrusting in and out of you, niall staying completely seethed inside you, feeling the drag and pull of his mate’s cock.

“christ, fuckin hell,” niall groans loudly, “can feel you. fuck, can feel you moving,” he whimpers, the overwhelming tightness of it all not only affecting you, but also both men. “gotta fuckin feel this, lou,” niall moans, hands darting out instinctively to grip into louis’ hips, stilling his movements inside you.

as niall starts to roll his hips, you moan louder, if at all possible, a shiver running through your entire body, the head of his cock grinding into your sweet spot deliciously hard, tucked into you with so much less space than usual. 

louis moans as well, one hand reaching out for niall’s arm, the glide of his friend’s cock adding to the intense pleasure, “christ mate, fuck. weren’t kidding eh ?” 

niall shakes his head, all three of you working through breathy pants, niall’s cock thrusting slowly, the overwhelming pressure, overwhelming sensitivity, overwhelming pleasure taking over all of your bodies.

it all starts to unravel for you when you feel louis’ hand gliding down your body, stilling over your stomach, and pressing down, making him feel the head of niall’s cock bumping into you with each thrust. “s’he filling you up good ? fuck, can you feel him in your tummy ? being so good for us, sweet girl. so fucking good.”

as he catches you nod, whining and biting your lip, your brain a little too lost to properly answer him, his hand keeps gliding down, fingertips flicking over your clit, you now really start to lose it. 

your head peels itself from louis’ shoulder, forehead resting on niall’s, your hands gripped tightly into his hair as some sort of anchor. your body starts steadily shaking, gasping for air, your body clenching with every passing flick of louis’ fingers on your sensitive button.

a loud guttural moan rips through you as your body seizes, intense pleasure coursing through your bloodstream, both louis and niall’s lengths pressed up deep inside you, feeling you clenched up tightly on them.

unable to hold himself back, with the tight vice grip you have on his cock, niall’s head drops to your chest, groaning, as he cums, spurts of hot white coating your inner walls, his grip tightened on louis’ hips.

“fuck, are you cumming too ?” louis groans breathily, peering over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him.

“christ, how are you not ?” niall moans, another tremor wracking through his body, as your head falls back onto louis’ shoulder, panting for air, bottom lip trembling as silent tears falls from your eyes, wetting louis’ neck. “so fuckin tight, fuck, fuck,” niall adds, working to catch his breath.

he can hear louis chuckle, feel him slowly pull out and thrust back into you, niall whining loudly as he feels the drag against his overly sensitive prick, reaching back without thinking, fingernails dug into louis’ ass to keep him in place, “don’t you fucking dare.”

“sorry mate, sorry,” louis giggles, resting his head against yours, his hand gently petting your tummy, “feeling alright love ?” as you nod, taking a shuddering breath, making louis coo quietly, “s’a lot yeah ? feeling a bit overwhelmed ?”

“yeah,” you whisper, not trusting your voice entirely, as niall gains some composure, looking up at you, kissing the underside of your chin, “lemme pull out, petal.”

his hands glide from louis’ bum, back onto your hips, holding you steady as he pulls out of you, a large dribble of cum following suit.

you feel your body buckle, muscles going limp, louis being the only thing truly holding you up, as niall pecks a series of kisses over your chest.

“want me to pull out as well ?” you hear louis ask, immediately shaking your head, no. 

“want you to cum inside me too,” you murmur, no more embarrassment present, completely lax with the moment. 

“can i move then ?” he asks quietly, feeling you nod, as he hooks his finger under your chin, turning your face towards his, lips crashing onto yours in your first kiss, beginning to work his cock inside you again.

you whine, a bit sensitive, a quick shiver running down your spine, feeling niall drop down on the bed, shimmying himself further between your legs, his tongue taking a tentative lick at your folds, collecting some of his cum.

you moan louder against louis’ lips, one hand reaching down into niall’s hair on instinct, body relaxing further into louis’, your muscles rendered completely useless. 

louis’ eyes flick down, catching a glimpse at the dark brown tousle of hair between your legs, groaning, “you fuckin tasting yourself ?”

you can feel niall moan, nodding against you, the languid strokes of his tongue collecting each drip of his cum.

“always knew you were fuckin dirty,” louis chuckles breathily, feeling your body start to clamp down again, obviously overly sensitive. “s’ni making you feel good, love ?”

you nod, moaning out a series of yeses, your other hand, the one not in niall’s hair, reaching above you to bring louis’ face back up to yours, kissing him deeply, tongue quickly slipped into his mouth.

“s’louis making you feel good ?” niall asks, breath fanning over your abused cunt, his thumb coming up to swipe repeatedly from your entrance to your clit as he settles further, playfully taking one of louis’ balls in his mouth, pulling away with a pop.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck. everything’s so good,” you groan loudly, gasping for air, completely lost in the feeling of them.

louis groans louder as well, one hand leaving your body to grip into niall’s hair alongside yours, nails scratching at his scalp.

niall shudders, his cock starting to gain interest again, his hand working over himself as he licks his way back up to your clit. his other hand slides behind you, gripping into louis’ ass again, making his hips move faster, harder, working you up more.

“fuckin christ, so fuckin good,” louis groans, head tucked into your neck, arms wrapping around you tighter, thighs starting to shake.

as niall slips his tongue inside you, flicking it over your sensitive walls, louis shudders harder, teeth digging into the skin of your shoulder, whining loudly, “can feel your tongue. fuck, dont stop ni.”

so niall doesn’t stop, his tongue keeps flicking inside you, catching on the underside of louis’ cock through your walls. your body starts convulsing, louis sucking over the bite mark he’s left on you, thrusts growing more and more erratic, the more he feels. feels niall’s tongue. feels you squeezing down on him.

“gonna cum again pet ?” niall hums, mouth still pressed to your sopping cunt, his entire face stuffed against you, struggling to breathe, and not caring one bit, too caught up in the overwhelmingness of it all.

“mhmm, fuck,” you groan out loudly, another orgasm ripping through you, a string of curses coming from behind you, as louis finally lets go, filling you up to the brim.

as you start to come down, louis pulls out of you, niall giving your cunt one last kiss, shimmying his way out from under you, helping you lay down next to him, louis following suit.

“remind me to lose my smokes more often,” louis jokes, a breathy laugh escaping his lips, one hand up in his hair, working at regulating his breathing.

“only one thing left to do,” niall hums, leaning on his elbow to be propped up, looking over you at louis. “after all that, think i deserve a little smooch,” he smirks playfully.

“fuckin hell,” louis laughs, shaking his head, leaning up as well to press his lips to niall’s, both of them laughing through it all.

you hum, laying under them, smirking up at the scene before you, “definitely making a note to steal your smokes sometime.”

Part 2

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#niall horan #louis tomlinson #niall horan smut #louis tomlinson smut #niall horan one shot #louis tomlinson one shot #niall horan x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #niall horan masterlist #louis tomlinson masterlist #niall horan writings #louis tomlinson writings #one direction #nouis #niall horan blurb #louis tomlinson blurb #smut #writings #justmeinatree

[artist-issues]

Your words and your posts have been incredibly disheartening for me to see. My mother left the church. She is not an apostate, but she did question the church’s teachings in secret. She completely left faith when I was born. I have congenital heart defects, which I was born with. I nearly died on the operating table. For this reason, my mother and I do not believe in God, who is said to be all-powerful and all-benevolent. My mother is a wonderful person. She risked her life in the Covid-19 pandemic as she works at a hospital. If anyone deserved to live in an eternal paradise, it would be her. Your LGBTQ+ views have also upset me. My oldest friend, who I have known since before I could even remember, is transgender and gay, and have been more supportive to me as a disabled person than any Christian has been. I’m only 18 years old, yet I know that you chose faith over experiences with the wonderful parts of humanity. Respectfully, please reconsider your views on gay and trans people.

I truly appreciate how thoughtfully and respectfully you typed out this message. It is clear that these matters mean a lot to you and I'm going to go ahead and assume that you aren't speaking out of any kind of hate.

I would just offer you a counter-perspective, and maybe by understanding where I'm coming from, you can see that I'm not speaking out of any kind of hate for people, either. I'm half blind. I was born that way. My twin sister and I were taken by emergency cesareans-section when we were incredibly, dangerously premature. My twin was given no chance of survival; the cesarean was just meant to give me a 50% chance of survival. At the time, my mother was recently married to a 19 year-old drug dealer after her own father abused and abandoned her and her mother. She'd been living apart from the faith for years, rejecting God to follow the occult or whatever political party had hear heart at the time. My father hated God.

But when my sister and I were fighting for life for weeks on end, and nobody was sure if we would live or die, and they had to bring us home with heart monitors because our hearts would literally stop beating several times a night, my mom realized how helpless she was to do anything to save us. And she prayed. And we lived. Both of us. Not only that, but my father, at 19 years old, addicted to drugs since the age of 13, narrowly escaped death and gave his life to Christ. After a whole life of having no social skills unless he was high, doing whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted, and caring about nothing but himself, now he is a Pastor (bi-vocationally; he is also a tradesman working with his hands) and has given me and all my family, and many other families, everything we have in our lives through his dedicated and faithful life. He and my mother have been happily married and serving God with their whole lives for almost thirty years now.

And not only them, but me, my twin sister, my younger sister, my little brother, my grandfather (who was an actual killer and drug addict as well) we all know God. We all have a relationship with Him. And that's the biggest most wonderful gift He gave us, out of all those wonderful things He did for us. Saving my life, my dad's life, my twin's life, changing who they were and making them new people.

I'm not telling you all that to like, compare disabilities or traumas or whatever. That would be ridiculous for lots of reasons. But I'm just trying to be honest.

It's not a religion or a system of beliefs that I've subscribed to. It's not a social flag I live under. It's not something I do just because my parents or the people in my immediate community have shown me. It's because He's real, and He showed Himself to me—when it's just me and Him, and nobody else's opinion or say-so matters— and it's all really true—everything the Bible says. And He's so much better, and so much more benevolent, than anyone on earth can describe to you.

And, at the same time, when you understand who He is, and who we are...the question isn't "how could a good God let anyone go to Hell instead of paradise?" The question is, "how could He let any of us live after what we did?" It's hard. But seriously, just play pretend with me for a bit, if only to "understand my perspective." Pretend there was a God, all-powerful, endlessly loving, in fact, Love Itself. The love that was His very nature spilled out so much that He created—created beautiful, amazing, complex creatures who were intrinsically full of worth and light, and made to reflect Him, that Love, back to Him, and share in it. A big happy family.

And then those creatures from the dirt committed cosmic treason and said "screw You, I don't care if You created me and I don't care if You love me or want to be in relationship with me: I want to be You. I want to call the shots." And those creatures from the dirt basically did the cosmic version of climbing in their father's lap to spit in His face, and go stab each other over fleeting pleasures in the gutter because the mansions He was offering them wasn't as good as pretending they could be gods of their own lives.

That's the story. Thats what happened. Read Genesis, if you have the time and if you're of the heart to. And because of what we chose, we got twisted up. I'm sure you read that, in my posts. So even the thing we were made for—love—got mangled up inside us and we can't express it the right way anymore.

He would've been justified in wiping us out. Starting over with new creatures. We were His creation. He gets to decide what we are and what to do with us: we betrayed and insulted and defied our rightful King. But He's not like that. He had no reason to--no obligation to--but He chose to do the work and make a way for us to be back in relationship with Him. And He chose to do it by subjecting Himself to unimaginable torture and darkness, which would have been ours by right if He hadn't taken it for us.

I know that you love your mom. It is plain to see. And I understand the feeling. But if you really get to know the God of the actual Bible, instead of just the memes and the flawed people who try to explain Him—if you really get to know Him, between you and Him, you'll see that He actually loves your mom more than you do. And He loves you more than you, or anyone, does. Because He knows you both better and more intimately than you even know Yourselves. He made you. It'd be like an author getting to dive down into the story and tell their characters everything about themselves.

That's the kind of love we were made for. The kind of love that is there even though you don't deserve it, even though you're not entitled to it—the kind of love that would die for you while you're still hating Him.

I mean just stop and think about it, clear your brain of everything everyone has ever told you about LGBTQ+ and all that. And just think: can you love someone wholeheartedly and still know they're in the wrong? Even when they wholeheartedly believe they're right? Even when they're hurt by you believing they're in the wrong? Of course you can. Anyone who's had a loved one with a self-destructive habit, like alcohol addiction or an abusive lover or just a toxic personality trait or two, can relate to that common sense. They can say, "of course I love you. That's why I'm telling you to stop doing this, it's hurting you, it's not good for you, I know it doesn't feel that way, but it's the truth."

So if you believe that there are some circumstances where that applies, what makes it so unloving for this hypothetical God, who knows the best thing for your friend and knows your friend better than you do, to say so about being LGBTQ+? Why should LGBTQ+ be any different?

Well, the answer, of course, is that you don't believe it is true that it's wrong. Because, if we rewind, you don't believe in God. But you just told me that you came to that conclusion kind of...after feeling hurt by Him. You almost died, first , then your mom chose to leave Him behind and go ahead and live as if He doesn't exist. And you did, too.

But let's go back to playing pretend. If God exists, then He didn't act how you think He should've, as an "benevolent" God: He didn't do YOUR version of "good." So you abandoned Him. (We're pretending like He exists, from your perspective.) He didn't do your version of good, you feel mistreated, so you walked away from Him.

But He would never do that to you. If He's the kind of person the Bible says He is, He doesn't treat you that way. When you (humanity) didn't do His version (which is the only real version, since He invented it) of good, He didn't abandon you. He totally could have. But instead He made a way for your relationship to get fixed. But you have free will. So He's not going to force you to love Him and accept the gift. If you want to continue for all eternity without being with Him, you can. He gives you that option.

But then don't wonder why people who choose that option don't get "eternal paradise." Because according to the Bible, that's all heaven is: getting to be in relationship with God forever. Fully who He made you to be. If you don't want that, He won't force it: in fact, He couldn't. It wouldn't be just, and He is always just.

The truth is, after what we did to Him, none of us deserve anything from Him. I didn't deserve to survive in that ICU. Neither did my sister. Neither did my father or mother or grandfather. None of us should be allowed to inhale another breath; we're the King's people who betrayed Him and tried to steal His throne. But He is so good that instead He turns around and adopts us.

I know this is rambly. But you messaged me so genuinely, I just sort of wrote this as if I were sitting down and talking it all out, one word in front of the other, with you. I don't know you. I know these are very hot button topics, and very personal issues; but like you, I think they're of the utmost importance.

So I will keep considering the LGBTQ+ and transgender issues—but you have to understand that I'm in service to the King, so to speak. I love Him, He loves me, and He's my God. When I consider any part of reality, it's impossible to do so without Him as the center and standard of truth. Without Him, who gets to decide what's right or wrong? Just me. And on my own, I am inconsistent, selfish, ruinous. But I'm not on my own. And in the meantime, I'll ask you to consider God, the real God, of the Bible. Not what a church of whatever denomination tells you—not to start with. Not what I tell you, or anyone tells you. Just what He said about Himself, straight from the Bible. Let Him speak for Himself. Thanks for reaching out.

#very long post #Asked #answered #Christianity #me #LGBTQ+ #transfenderism #testimony #Christian #Bible #Jesus Christ #Yahweh

[myfruitlessthorns]

The Chosen & Christianity - my thoughts

I have never identified as ‘Christian’ although I was raised Catholic, purely because I have no care for its following all the outdated cultural practices and quite frankly, because of what people have made ‘Christianity’ out to be. However, I have and always will find the intrinsic values of Christianity really dear to me. If you take away everything else, at its core (like all other religions that are clouded in cultural and historical biases), it’s all about love and compassion and kindness and it really warms my heart.

So yes, has The Chosen - a TV show about real humans, sinners and outcasts, still being adored by Christ - made me love Christianity again? Absolutely. Has it healed my image of religion as paternalistic - by portraying Jesus for all he really is - good and kind and loving - without having all the extra added bits that make religion daunting and unwelcoming? Yes. Does it make me feel loved and safe and accepted as a queer person? Yes. I find myself closer to Christ more than ever.

Now some of you may not agree with queer people because of what the bible says, but I would say, for every time the bible has ‘condemned’ homosexuality (this in itself is a debate, but besides), ten times over has it has emphasised the importance of loving people and being kind to people and not judging them for their sins, for you yourself are not sinless. Surely, that makes these values 10x more important than condemning queer folks and kicking them out of churches???

If you identify as ‘Christian’ but judge and make outcasts of people, how are you a follower of Christ - he who went out and made friends with outcasts? What is TRULY more important in this religion? Compassion, which fundamentally underpins Christianity (and humanity!!!), or abiding by tradition, sacrificing kindness in efforts to adhere to strict rules.

It’s people make religion scary, not the teachings themselves. People make it out to be something that judges and condemns, rather than grows and nurtures - people make people distance from the Church, and that is so upsetting to me, because Jesus Himself was such a welcoming man.

For that reason, I don’t think I’ll ever identify as Christian because of how rejected I feel in the church, especially for being queer. Despite that, perhaps because it’s a part of my childhood and my heritage, no other belief system can ever come close to the comfort of being close to Christianity and Jesus. I will always carry it’s values and morals in my heart, if anything and shows like The Chosen remind me how much I love Christ (just not his church at times) - but hey, many of Christ’s followers themselves were the same. Good people who didn’t find solace in ‘good society’ and instead found solace in him <3

Anyway, really happy I started this show because it made me realise that I truly love Jesus a lot :) and on that note, shout out to Quakerism for being my fav branch of Christianity - y’all are so kind and peaceful and accepting and actually warm my heart 💗

#the chosen #queer community #queer christian #christianity

[yoga-onion]

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (18)

T for Tinne (Holly) - July 18th - August 5th

“Tree of Sacrifice - 8th month of the Celtic Tree Calendar (Ref)”

Colour: red; Star: Mars, Saturn: Gemstone: ruby, bloodstone; Gender: male; Patrons: Taranis, Jesus Christ, Thor, Lugh; Symbols: discord + humanity, blood + compassion, endless love

When it comes to holly, there is no one who doesn't know the prickly leaves and red berries. The evergreen holly tree has dense branches, and thanks to its glossy evergreen foliage, the holly tree remains unchanged through over time and throughout the year. 

Since ancient times, holly has represented the robust vitality and masculine strength of nature. It was closely associated with birth and rebirth rituals and the transmission of esoteric knowledge, and was particularly linked with unconditional love, and eventually came to symbolise all gods dedicated to sacrifice. The holly is also known as a tree that protects fairies and, as with all 'fairy trees', legend has it that cutting it down will bring bad luck. People in the past planted holly near their houses because it was said to ward off evil and stop lightning from striking.

It is said that long ago, when the island of Britain was still called Albion, prehistoric Britain was protected by a giant called Gogmagog. This giant who covered his entire body with holly branches and leaves, primeval god Gogmagog, eventually became known by the name 'the Holly King'. The giant held a holly bush as a club and is said to be the twin brother of the 'King of Oak'. In the medieval story 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight', the Holly King appears as the immortal Green Knight and Sir Gawain as the Oak King. 

The Holly King, who rules over the six months leading up to the summer solstice and winter solstice, takes the throne after the Oak King dedicates himself to the summer solstice bonfire. Then, in a cycle of death and rebirth, he sacrifices himself to give way once more to the Oak King on the winter solstice. Hence, Oak King and Holly king represent two phases of nature's guardian deities.

The Celtic festival of Lughnasadh (Lughnasa) takes place at the end of the holly month. This celebrates the rebirth of Lugh, the god of light (the sun) and crafts, and is celebrated on 1 August in the UK, Ireland and Europe at the Harvest Festival. This is also the Anglo-Saxon festival of Lammas.

The evergreen holly, which does not die out even when all plants have died, symbolises a strong life force and is a 'good omen' tree. The druids (Ref2), who regarded holly as a particularly sacred tree, proceeded to bring holly into the house during the winter months. The holly, with its red berries and bright foliage, which exalts the soul, was a protector of elves and fairies from the harsh cold. So, during the winter, they do not misbehave.

Any holly brought into the house must be returned to the outdoors by 'Imbolc Eve'. It's because if holly leaves remain in the house after that, misfortune will befall them.

This was retained in Christianity as Twelfth Night (also known as Epiphany Eve). In Christianity, which teaches that holly eventually grew from the ground on which Jesus walked, the thorny leaves and red berries of holly represent the Passion and shed blood of Jesus.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (18)

TはTinne (ﾋｲﾗｷﾞ) - 7月18日～8月4日

『犠牲の木 〜 ケルトの木の暦（参照）の第8月』

色: 赤; 星: 火星、土星: 宝石: ルビー、ブラッドストーン (血石) ; 性: 男性; 守護神: タラニス、イエス・キリスト、トール、ルー; シンボル: 不和＋人間性、血＋憐れみ、限りなき愛

ヒイラギといえば、棘のある葉と赤い実、知らない人はいないだろう。常緑樹のヒイラギは、びっしりと枝を張り、またつやつやとした常緑の葉のおかげてヒイラギは、時の移ろいにも変わらぬ姿を見せている。

昔からヒイラギは自然のたくましい生命力や男性的な力強さを表してきた。古代では、誕生や再生の儀式、秘伝の伝授などに縁が深いものとされ、とりわけ無償の愛と関係があり、やがて犠牲に捧げられたすべての神々を象徴するようになった。ヒイラギは妖精を守る木としても知られ、「妖精の木」がすべてそうであるように、伐採すると不幸をもたらすという言い伝えがある。昔の人は家の近くにヒイラギを植えていたが、それは魔除けになり、雷が落ちなくなると言われていたからだ。

その昔、ブリテンがまだアルビオンと呼ばれていた頃の、太古のブリテン島はゴグマゴグという巨人が守っていたといわれている。このヒイラギの枝や葉で全身を覆った巨人、太古の神ゴグマゴグはやがて「ヒイラギの王」の名で知られるようになった。その巨人はヒイラギの茂みを棍棒として持ち、「オークの王」の双子の兄弟であるといわれている。中世の物語『ガウェイン卿と緑の騎士』では、ヒイラギの王が不死身の緑の騎士として、ガウェイン卿はオークの王として登場する。夏至かた冬至に至る半年間を治めるヒイラギ王は、オーク王が夏至のかがり火に身を捧げた後、王位につく。そして、死と再生を繰り返すサイクルの中で、冬至の日に、自らを犠牲にしてふたたびオーク王に道を譲る。オーク王とヒイラギ王は自然の守護神の二つの局面を表している。

ヒイラギの月が終わる頃にはケルトの祭典、ルーナサが行われる。これは、光 (太陽) と技芸の神、ルーの再生を祝うもので、英国、アイルランド、ヨーロッパでは、8月1日に収穫祭が開かれる。これはアングロサクソン人のラマス祭にも当たる。

すべての植物が枯れても死に絶えることを知らない常緑樹のヒイラギは屈強な生命力を象徴し、「吉兆」の木でもある。ヒイラギを特に神聖な木として崇めていたドルイド（参照2）は、冬の間はヒイラギを家の中に持ち込むように進めた。赤い実と鮮やかな葉が魂を昂揚させるヒイラギは、厳しい寒さから妖精やエルフを守ってくれる存在だった。だから、冬の間、妖精たちは悪さをしない。家の中に持ち込まれたヒイラギは、「インボルクのイヴ」までには必ず屋外に戻さなければならない。その後にも家の中にヒイラギの葉が残っていると、不幸が訪れるからだ。

これが十二夜（エピファニー・イブとも知られる）としてキリスト教に残された。イエスが歩いた地面からはやがてヒイラギが生えてきたと教えるキリスト教では、ヒイラギの棘のある葉と赤い実は、イエスの受難と流し血を表している。

#trees #tree legend #tree myths #folklore #mythology #legend #celtic belief #holly #celtic calender #holly king #oak king #art #nature #imbolc

[mister-ious]

i was watching the russian terminator channel and it got me thinking.. What if Ghost did this?

He doesn’t even know how this happened. Filming a YouTube video about how to use a tourniquet? How to manoeuvre an assault rifle? What type of knobhead would even be curious about this?

... Well, if they're curious about it they would've gone and signed up to the military, no? Why would they watch a video online?

Price waffled on. Something about 'getting people to join the military', something about 'sharing experiences', whatever bullshit reason he listened to during whatever meeting he had about this.. YouTube channel..

Ghost was even more perturbed that he had to be in the first few videos. Out of everyone else, it was him. Why and how has this been allowed? Couldn't Soap have done this? Gaz? No—they were informed about this channel before Ghost and they've decided to concoct a plan. A plan to make their lieutenant teach and tell a bunch of internet rando's about the military.

Soap and Gaz were nowhere to be found when Price were looking for them to film, hiding in the dark corners of base (literally just ducking, looking away, and running whenever they spot Price).

Ghost was absolutely miffed when they didn’t get to find other volunteers to replace him. In front of the camera on a tripod he quietly sighs and grunts, psyching himself up to be the introduction of the video, adjusting his clip-on mic. He claps, the noise muffled slightly by his gloves.

“Okay..” He starts gruffly, spotting Soap’s head sticking out of a bush from his peripherals, glaring at the mohawk. “Welcome to this video. I’m here to show you we operate..” he turns around to point at the guns behind him, “Our weapons.”

It was a lineup of the usual rifles . Some pistols and shotguns—snipers are for the next video they said.

Anyway, Ghost continued on with the video, explaining and presenting apathetically, with some of the rookies holding the guns the way that he told them to. He further glosses over the routine protocols that come with handling guns.

The video ends quite abruptly. Immediately cutting the camera recording after he’d shown the last gun. Ghost doesn’t say the ‘goodbyeandthanksforwatchingthevideolikeandsubscribe!’ farewell. Maybe it was for the best.

A week passes. Six hundred thousand views. Thirty thousand likes.

@celebrityslefttoe: this video has awakened something inside of me

@sochi_22: I’m no better than a man ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

@rarecursor: 8:07 (a clip of him adjusting one of the soldiers’ hold on the gun) I VOLUNTEER. I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE.

@matsurijun: yall need to Go Outside

@prickly9685: where do i sign up 😋?

@WilliamHughes787: Great video! Very interesting!

@amiable4744: sir yes sirr.. enlisting now..

“Ghost. Look at this.” Soap grins, handing Ghost the iPad.

“… Jesus Christ.” Ghost pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he furrows his brows, groaning.

Soap lets out a deep and full cackle, nudging Ghost’s shoulder. “See? T’was a great idea to let ye do the video!”

To be fair, he looked absolutely delectable in the video. He wore a fitted long sleeve camo shirt, hugging his muscles very nicely, paired with camo cargo pants that he made look like skinny jeans. He wore a normal black balaclava, showing off his hazel eyes and his eyebrows were always creased downwards, with this slightly pissed off look.

Because of this positive reaction from the algorithm, Ghost kept appearing in future videos and even filmed a Q&A!

Continuation

#youtuber ghost LOLLL #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #ghost headcanons #soap mactavish headcanons

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

Eyeless jack with a reader who's like him, kinda like they also got sacrificed but their a toddler who didn't get taught anything doesn't speak properly at all, probably not potty trained.

I NEED PAPA JACK BEING A PROTECTIVE DAD

Hey love! I don’t feel totally comfortable making the reader so young, so I’ll give you headcannons of EJ being a father and a protective one at that!

FATHER EYELESS JACK

He’s a demon and he’s POSSESSIVE.

Ain’t no one touchin his baby.

He rips anyone apart that hurts his kid. Honestly he’d serve them for breakfast too while he’s at it

He’ll do anything for his kid and it shows

Only lets his kid around certain creeps, Sally, Toby, Tim, Brian, and Jane. Mayyyybe Clocky if he’s feeling kind. He’s not the biggest fan of her

Cooks all the food himself. If his kid can only eat people food, he’ll make it from scratch. And if his kid only eats good ol’ human meat then he’ll go hunting whenever they ask

Honestly the creeps beg him to cook for them

But!! He teaches his kid how to hunt early on and he loves going on long trips with them

Depending on what your headcannon is, if his kid has the same tar eye situation, he’ll make his baby a nice mask to match

Maybe they’ll even have a crafts day?

Jack teaches his kid everything they need to know. Math, reading, science, but not street smarts… He’s not all that great at that part…

He went to medical school for christs sake!

That’s where he depends on the proxies, they teach his kid all these street smarts that Jack could never do

When it’s bedtime he always has a story to tell. I headcannon that he has a really hard time seeing so reading in dark light isn’t really a thing for him.

So of course he has all the stories memorized!

If his kid really can’t sleep and they come trudging into his room, he’ll scoop them into his arms and his warmth is just enough to wash them with sleep. On top of the way he purrs for being close to the one he loves?

Oh they’re asleep in no time

In conclusion, he’s one of the best father’s out of all the creeps

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcannons #creepypasta requests #creepypasta hcs #eyeless jack headcannons #eyeless jack #eyeless jack creepypasta #jack nyras #asks open #anon ask

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about Buck and learning and or teaching.

Something something about Buck teaching when he really needed to be learning.

I just keep thinking about how the show has increasingly - especially last season - put Buck into the role of 'teacher' - including his coma dream. (i'm using teacher for the lack of a better term!) and how in the aftermath of the coma dream - he's been trying to teach but it hasn't worked - instead he's been learning.

I've been musing on the fact that even back in season 1 Buck has been in a teacher role -

Abby learning to chose herself and go for her happiness,

Bobby learning to let people in and Buck being a major part of that because of their developing father-son type relationship

'teaching' Eddie that he could rely on other people for help

Maddie learning at Bucks hand that she didn't need to keep running, that she could lean on him for support and build a new life for herself

Ravi being tutored by Buck in the fire house

even Lucy being given advice by Buck - teaching her through his own experiences in dumb luck

Buck making himself into a teacher in his coma dream and the idea that all these people he has helped teach teaching him that he has a place with them and that he is important

and so many more examples through the seasons that I won't list or I'd be here forever!

Because there has been a lot of emphasis on teaching and learning since Buck woke up from his coma - he learnt he was good at maths, but then wasn't allowed to help Chris with his maths homework because it would be cheating.

used his maths skills to win at Poker - but got taught lessons even in victory - rather than teaching others lessons (whatever they might have been)

Natalia being interested in him because he could teach her about death and things going south pretty quickly when it became evident that Buck needed to learn how to live again rather than be stuck in death

And now we've had several mentions by Tommy of him teaching Buck things - teaching him to fly, teaching him Mauy Thai, all the way to him being his bi awakening is teaching him about a part of himself he didn't know. Things are turned on their head - Buck is the student not the master now

Even with Eddie this season, we've seen him teaching Buck things - rather than Eddie learning from him - Eddie handing over this really important thing going on with Chris - Eddie knowing that Buck would be a better option - that Chris would open up to him more - is teaching Buck about his importance in the Diaz family - re-enforcing that he is part of their life. Its also Eddie who has had the good advice for Buck this time rather than the other way round.

Something something about 'you like to be the guy with the answers' to Buck becoming the guy with the (maths) answers - only for it to fade away and now he's having to learn

Something something about the tie to Buck and death and the resurrection and how Christ was the teacher up to and immediately after his death and resurrection when he left others on earth to spread his teachings and he ascended to learn at the right hand of god

Something something about how that is the key to happiness and that is what Buck has figured out and that is why his journey to figuring that out has had him wearing the bright blue - because in Christianity - that shade of blue is the colour of the kingdom of heaven (because it is the colour of the sky!) so putting Buck in it at all these key markers of his journey is showing him as being on the road to ascension.

This post is a mess - I don't even know what it is any more! I started with one idea about teaching and Tommy and then more kept coming and we ended up here!!!!

#I know technically that they all teach and learn from each other and that others were also involved in these scenes #but I'm just interested in the fact that the tables have now been turned on Buck specifically and he is now the student #I think thats interesting as a character study - Buck who learnt to survive on his own and teach himself now getting to go back to learning #look here I am - atheist me blabbering on about religious symbolism around Buck once again!!! #Im fascinated in it though - especially in relation to Eddies catholic guilt and the way that the show is using much more #scientific symbolism around him - hearts and guts and the mind - all working organs (or groups of organs) #that have these metaphorical and intuitive attributes attached to them #but all have important real world functions that a human need to survive #and the fact that we've got Buck to this point of 'ascension' and Eddie effectively working on the last of the three - the gut #well I think that is pretty telling - once Eddie has his gut under control/ worked out (catholic guilt) then he will be in a position to #'ascend' as well. #and don't even get me started on the triangle symbolisim within all of this - the holy trinity and the trifecta of heart mind and gut #because they are playing into the triangles this season - literally every where!!! #I feel like at this point if they put Buck in purple (esp if hes wearing it when buddie go canon) - the holiest of colours and #one associated with magic -then I will be the one ascending - because that would be the ultimate #this show is insane!! #it makes me insane - I'm insane!! #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc #911 meta

[certifiedl0verboy]

hurts just right

introducing mothbart who has quickly become my favorite monster. this was literally supposed to be a fuckin' microfic but tell me why it's over 3k. anyway, this is for @sixlane, who came up with this meetcute. thank u for spending time talking to me about mothbart. and thank u to @theapocryphaofantares for also entertaining this idea with me.

bartylily | mothman au | words: 3.5k

The first time that Barty saw her was when she hit him with her car.

It was the one night that he decided that maybe walking around would be better—he’d been flying around all day and he got lazy. Walking was less work than flying.

But see, Barty knew better than to just walk along the road or even near the road. He was a cryptid, for Christ’s sake, and the most well looked for, too. They even gave him a sick nickname—Mothman. Not the most original name, but humans love it and who was he to judge? People come to West Virginia all the time to try and spot him, but he was pretty good at keeping himself hidden. So imagine his surprise when he thought he could just cross the road to get to the other side of the forest without getting caught and then being slammed into by a car.

The impact made him roll over the hood, and Barty felt his soul leave his body. He truly thought at that moment that this was it, this was the end and he supposed he lived an alright life. He didn’t really get to do the things that he had hoped for—like maybe go around the country and explore a bit. Or maybe actually see if sasquatches were real.

Then he realized that he was fine, he was clearly being dramatic. It takes more than a fucking car to bring him down. But he was annoyed—because who the fuck drives without their lights on? Especially at night? And on a road with no streetlights? He wanted to give whoever a piece of his mind, maybe even try and traumatize them a little—teach them a lesson. As much as he wanted to, though, he knew he needed to get out of there before whoever this was saw more than they should’ve. Barty quickly got up from the wet pavement, groaning while standing up. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that his wings were fine, and when he extended them out a little, he let out a sigh of relief when there wasn’t any noticeable damage.

He felt his head, touching his antennas, and grumbled to himself when he felt that his left one was bent. He hated when that shit happened—not that he’s been hit by cars often. But his antennas were the most painful to try and put back into place when they’ve been bent. Inhaling a deep breath, he yanked his antenna and pulled it straight, flinching when there was a sharp pain that ran through his head.

He brought his attention over to the vehicle, and the hood of this ugly, old green piece of shit car was very much dented (served them right for being an absolute moron). He blinked a few times when the car lights suddenly turned on (a little too late for that), practically shining right into his eyes.

And when he was able to focus better, Barty could’ve sworn that his heart fell out of his chest when he laid eyes on her.

Sat there was a girl frozen in place with a horrified expression. Large, green eyes stared back at him, and he could tell that she was not only freaked out but also intrigued by what she saw. He watched as she slapped her hand over her mouth, clearly needing a moment to process what just happened before she was struggling to get her seatbelt off. He wanted to see more of her looks—get a real, nice close up of her and make sure that he’s not being fucked around with by some kind of deity. There was no way that someone as beautiful as her existed, but here he was, being proved wrong.

He had to get out of there before he decided to do something stupid—like casually introduce himself and maybe ask her to hit him again to see if he was hallucinating.

So he took off before she could get out of her car.

☾ ☾ ☾

Barty saw her the next morning.

After he bolted out of there, he perched himself on a tree a few miles away. He checked himself, making sure that there weren’t any major injuries other than a few scratches here and there. He was exhausted at this point, and who knew that getting hit by a car would take so much energy out of him. He made himself comfortable on the branch and allowed himself to fall asleep.

When he woke up, he figured he should at least go check out the area where he got hit. He’s not sure what compelled him to make him want to go back—it just felt like he was being pulled there, and it was a feeling that he hadn’t felt before. His wings weren’t sore anymore, so flying out there wasn’t too bad.

He landed on a tree that was closer to the road, where he had a clear view of everything. He could see that there was a car just parked in the middle of the road, and it wasn’t the one that hit him last night.

Two people were standing outside, looking around at the opposite side of the forest.

“—I swear to God, James, I know what I saw—”

“Lily, I’m sure it was a deer or something. It was late—”

“Deer can’t fly, James,” the girl snapped. When they both turned around, Barty recognized the girl right away.

And she looked fucking ethereal when she didn’t look scared out of her mind. The sun made her red hair glisten and it fell over her shoulders. Barty could see the scattered freckles covering her arms and face. She looked annoyed, and when Barty looked at the guy next to her, he could see why she was annoyed.

He looked like a douche canoe.

“Listen, it was dark outside, you forgot to turn on your lights while driving,” the guy—James—said. “I’m sorry that there’s damage to your car, I told you that you could borrow mine while you search for a new one.”

“I don’t care about my car,” the girl—Lily—said. “I just want to find what I hit.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find it,” James replied, sighing. He walked over to the driver's side of the car and opened the door. “Come on, Lily, let’s go.”

Barty watched as James shut the car door, and Lily just stood out there, staring into the woods as if Barty was going to come out and say hello.

He wanted to—you know—say hello, but he knew better and stayed put. Lily shook her head and turned around, making her way to the car and getting inside the passenger seat. The two of them drove away, and Barty rolled his eyes.

“You’re never going to see her again,” Barty told himself. “Get real.”

☾ ☾ ☾

Barty saw Lily a couple of days after the incident.

It was late at night, the stars were out and the frogs were croaking loudly. Barty had just finished scaring off some annoying teenagers away from the TNT bunkers, and he was hoping to have some peace and quiet but that clearly wasn’t the case.

Because in front of him was Lily.

Lily wearing a baby pink tank top and a pair of shorts.

Barty wanted to devour her.

She had a look of determination and irritation on her face, and he couldn’t detect a single ounce of fear radiating from her. It was kind of freaky because he’s never had someone just not be scared of him.

Her flashlight was right on him, shining on his fuzzy chest and he watched as Lily slowly brought the beam of light up to his face. Her gaze was intense, and Barty still could not understand how she wasn’t afraid of him. Instead, it was more becoming like he was afraid of her. He's confused, because she seemed afraid when she first saw him, but now looking back on it, it was probably more like she was scared that she hit something rather than what she hit. How could she not be terrified of him? Was it the antennas? The red eyes? The fucking wings? He knew they could be fucking goofy looking but come on.

Either way, this was a first.

“Uh,” Barty said, tilting his head, bringing his hand up to try and block the light. “Did you need something?”

Oh, God. Barty wanted to smack himself in the face. Out of all the things he said, that’s what he picked? He literally had a fucking goddess standing in front of him, and he already made himself look like an idiot. Not only that, but this was his first conversation with an actual human in years. He spent his time talking to himself or talking to a large toad that he named Evan. So, this? Talking to a beautiful girl like Lily? It was a curse and a blessing.

“I hit you with my car,” Lily stated.

“Yeah, you did—Sorry, are you not freaked out right now?”

“Am I supposed to be afraid of some weirdo dressed up like a moth?”

“Excuse me?” Barty asked, glaring. A pretty girl with a pretty feisty mouth on her. He can work with that. "You think I'm a what?"

"A weirdo?"

"Who the fuck are you calling a weirdo?"

“You can’t expect me to think that Mothman is real.”

“You hit me with your car and you’re insulting me?” Barty asked. “Where is my apology, huh?”

Lily walked up closer to him, the flashlight held in her right hand. She was tiny compared to him, the height difference was throwing him off. She shoved her left index finger on his lower chest.

“Prove it.”

“Prove what? That you fuckin’ hit me with your car?”

“No,” Lily replied, rolling her eyes. She put her hands on her hips, the flashlight pointing towards a tree. “Prove to me that you’re real.”

Oh, she’s bold.

“I don’t have to prove you shit,” Barty said. “You should know better than to be in the woods at night alone, princess.”

“My friends have my location, so if you’re thinking about kidnapping me or murdering me, I wouldn’t try it.”

“What? You’re the one who came after me,” Barty replied. “If anything, I should be the one worried since you’re the one stalking me.”

“I’m not stalking you,” Lily scoffed. “I just wanted to figure out what I hit, and now I know it’s some guy dressed up like Mothman. Are you wearing stilts under that suit?”

“I am Mothman,” Barty deadpanned.

“Yeah, okay,” Lily said, sarcasm dripping from her words. “Anyway, I’m heading back to my car now, so don’t even think about following me.”

“What car? You totaled it when you slammed into me.”

“It’s my friend’s car,” Lily replied. “Not that you need that information.”

“So then why did you give it?”

“You’re nosy,” Lily pointed out.

Barty snorted. “I’m nosy? You’re the one who is giving out information left and right.”

“Whatever, grow up, look for a new hobby, and stop dressing up like a fake creature,” Lily said. “And maybe look both ways before crossing the road or you’ll get hit again.”

“Maybe you should try driving with your headlights on.”

Lily ignored his comment and turned around. She started to walk away from Barty, and she waved behind her, saying goodbye.

And for some reason, that one gesture pissed him off. He’s never had anyone just wave him off like that, or even insult him like that in five minutes. He couldn’t help it though—his eyes wandered straight to her ass. He watched as she kept walking away until she was out of view, and the only thing that kept replaying in his head was:

Lily had a nice fucking ass.

He never took himself as that kind of cryptid—one that drooled over humans or fantasized himself with one. He couldn’t deny what was clearly a fact: Lily was hot.

And look, Barty was aware that he explicitly said that he wasn’t going to prove Lily anything, but after watching her just walk away like he meant nothing was a slap in the face. He knew exactly what he was going to do and how he was going to do it.

He waited a while before figuring that Lily was in the car and was already driving down the road—she wasn’t that deep in the woods. He started to flap his wings and when he got good momentum, he ascended into the air and looked around once he was above the trees.

And there she was—driving that stupid car that she was in earlier when she came there with James.

He glided over to her car, hovering over it and keeping up with the speed of the car. He decided that now was the best time to just go for it—do what he’s known best for. He obnoxiously landed hard on the roof of the car and let out a laugh due to the thrill of scaring someone off.

However, his laugh was cut off because what he wasn’t expecting was for Lily to slam on the breaks.

Barty, losing his balance, flew off the top of the car and hit the pavement, rolling multiple times before finally coming to a stop. He let out a loud groan and fluttered his eyes closed.

“—Oh my God, are you okay?” Lily asked, running out of the car. She crouched down next to Barty and frantically started hovering her hands over him. It was like she couldn’t figure out where to start looking for injuries, but also taking in that he was clearly not human. “You’re such an idiot!”

“How are you so fucking normal about this?” Barty asked, voice cracking. He looked up at her and the headlights shining on her made Barty think that Lily was an angel, but so far her actions had been pretty demonic, in his opinion. She was in a state of panic, her eyes searching Barty’s and he could tell when it finally clicked for her.

“Oh,” Lily gasped, shaking her head and moving away from him. “Oh, you’re actually—”

“I told you,” Barty said.

“You flew on top of my car!”

“It’s not your car.”

“Does that really matter right now?”

“It does, because you hit me with your actual car, and now your friend’s car is fucked up, too.”

“And who is to blame for that?” Lily muttered. She took a deep breath and scooted closer to Barty, and this time, she was taking him all in. Her eyes wandered from his face, to his wings, to his chest, to his legs. “Jesus, Mothman—”

“Barty,” he said, trying to sit up. Lily grabbed his arm and used all her weight to pull him up gently.

“What?”

“My name is Barty,” he told her.

“Okay, Barty,” Lily said calmly. “It looks like you have some cuts on your legs, and I can look at them and clean them up if you want.”

“Nah,” Barty said. “They’ll heal on their own.”

“Wait, really?”

“Perks of not being human, I guess.”

“God, I can’t believe I hit Mothman with my car.”

“Maybe don’t go telling people that.”

Lily snorts. “No one would even believe me if I said that.”

“How come you’re not afraid?” Barty asked, looking at her.

Lily shrugged, her tank top strap falling off her shoulder. “I don’t know. There’s something about you that makes me feel the opposite, like I trust you.”

She stood up and wiped off her bare legs from the bits of gravel that were stuck onto them. Barty followed suit, standing up. He extended his wings to see if there were any cuts on them too, and when he saw small ones, he frowned. His wings always took longer to heal, so if he wanted to go anywhere, he’d have to walk until the cuts went away.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lily asked. She carefully places her hand on Barty’s arm, and he almost melts into it because he’s never been touched by anyone like this before. Soft and gentle—feelings that Barty thought he’d never experience.

“Peachy,” Barty replied. “You should get home. It’s late.”

“I don’t want to just leave you—”

“It’s fine.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Why? So you can try and do another hit-and-run?” Barty asked, grinning. He couldn’t actually believe that Lily wanted to try and see him again, but it was almost too good to be true.

“No, I—I don’t know, I’m just curious about you. I can’t properly explain it.”

“There’s nothing curious about me.”

“You’re literally a monster—”

“I would prefer the term cryptid, sweetheart,” Barty said. “Monster is a bit rude, don’t you think?”

“My name is Lily,” she said. “Not ‘sweetheart.’”

“Lily, huh?” He said. He had to act like he didn’t already know her name, he didn’t want her to know that he’d seen her before and eavesdropped on her conversation with her friend from a couple of days prior. “Cute.”

Lily’s cheeks started to turn into a soft shade of pink, biting her lip as she turned her head away, refusing to make eye contact. “Oh, thanks, I guess. Your name is...nice.”

Barty smirked and brought two fingers up to her cheek, forcing her to look at him. She looked up and stared at him, and he had this whole witty comment that he was going to make, but he forgot all about it due to him getting lost in her. Seeing her up this close, seeing the freckles all over her face—he wanted to sit down and just count every single one of them if she’d let him. He wanted to tell her how he could get lost in her eyes which were suddenly now his favorite shade of green. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair and fuck, maybe he’d even try and learn how to braid hair or some shit if it meant being able to just touch her in any way that he could.

Lily was a light that Barty wanted to orbit around forever.

There was no other way to explain that Lily made him feel like he was meant to be here. Here, in front of her, as if being pulled away from her was going to destroy him.

Well, that was a bit dramatic.

However, he’d rather get hit by a thousand cars than have Lily leave.

But he knew that she had to.

“Thanks for the forced compliment, princess,” Barty said, dropping his hand. “But go home. We’ll find each other again one day, I’m sure.”

"And what if we don't?"

"Then we don't."

"I'm sorry, you know," Lily said, frowning. "For hitting you."

"See? Was that apology so hard?"

"God, you're so annoying," she murmured.

"And you think you're not?"

Lily smiled, and Barty wanted to see that every day.

Realistically, he knew that he couldn't. It wouldn't work. Anything Barty wanted never worked out for him, so why would this situation be any different?

"Come on, go home," Barty said.

Lily hesitantly nodded her head and walked over to the running car. Barty watched her get into the vehicle as he moved to the side of the road, not really wanting to get hit a second time.

If Lily looked back when she drove away, Barty wouldn’t know. He was too caught up in staring at the ground, already missing someone he hardly knew.

#bartylily #barty crouch jr #lily evans #barty x lily #the marauders #rarepair #the marauders era #lily x barty #mothman au #au #harry potter #mothbart #i'll never leave u mothbart #i'll think about u forever #can't wait to write more mothbart #india's writing #lane tag<3 #kolowv tag <3

[theinwardlight]

From Christopher Stern, "Quaker Worship: We Cannot Do It on Our Own"

#christopher stern #quaker worship #quaker meeting #Christ has come to teach his people himself #George Fox

[aristocratic-otter]

How odd...it is Wednesday, right? I haven't seen any posts! Well, I'll get one started, even though it's late.

Thank you to these folks who tagged me last week : @blackberrysummerblog, @theearlgreymage, @nausikaaa, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @cutestkilla, @artsyunderstudy, @thewholelemon, @youarenevertooold, @nightimedreamersghost, @best--dress, @j-nipper-95, @prettygoododds, @alexalexinii, @hushed-chorus, 

From Saving Simon Snow:

I clear my throat, because imagining him nude under the spray leads to imagining myself joining him there, and then what sorts of activities could happen then, and my vocal cords are clogging up again. “Of course,” I say, and then wince, because my voice comes out higher pitched than usual. 

Why is this so awkward? So we had sex. People do that every day. (I don’t do that every day) (I guess it is rather a big deal for me). I’m almost relieved when Simon turns to trudge up the stairs without another word. 

From Snow Fox

There’s something different about Simon when he returns from escorting Baz home. He’s more silent. More serious. And he throws himself into the life of the camp with a grim determination. 

The very next day after his return, he approaches Shepard and I at the breakfast fire and abruptly offers to teach the both of us to shoot. I’ve been angling for such lessons since we joined the rebellion officially, but Simon’s always been too tired or distracted, and I haven’t wanted to push. 

I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but I also won’t ignore the change in my best friend. 

From TikTok Dancer:

Because we’ve made it. We’re in the big time, for real. All four of us have six figure incomes, and Snow’s income would probably be in the millions if he accepted every endorsement opportunity he was offered. He’s content though, with what he has. He gets to dance as much as he wants, he has a home to call his own and lifelong friends in me, Agatha and Penny. 

I just wish he was happy. 

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

I linger in the shadows of the doorway and watch Baz’s glee over his hot bath. 

It makes me happy that he’s happy. But I also feel odd and trembly in my gut. I’m not used to feeling odd when I look at Baz. I look at him all the time. But when he stripped to his skin to get into the bath, I couldn’t help but notice how much his body had changed from the first time I saw him. 

From The Heart in the Well

“Baz,” I whisper. “What are you doing?”

He looks up at me and I’ve seen eyes like his on religious paintings of Christ dying on the cross. Simultaneously resigned, sad, and almost peaceful. “I’m sorry, Simon,” he says, his voice gentle.

Too gentle. 

I have a sudden premonition of where this is going. “No!” I shout, and scramble towards him. But he’s faster. 

From Cupid’s Shield:

Penny sighed and rested her head on her fist, pinning me in place with her glare. “Simon, you can’t tell me you’ve never heard of Cupid. Even Normals have heard of him. And I know we covered Greek and Roman gods in magickal history class.”

“Cupid,” I repeated, feeling wrong-footed and stupid. “You don’t mean the fat baby who shoots heart shaped arrows, do you?”

Tagging: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @angelsfalling16, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @ic3-que3n, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @upuntil6am, @whatevertheweather, @whogaveyoupermission, @messofthejess, @facewithoutheart, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @larkral, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer, @thewholelemon, @rimeswithpurple, and @mooncello

#co/ws/awtwb #wip wednesday #snowbaz #carry on through the ages #cotta 2023 #carry on reverse bang #american revolution au #Age of Sail au #Tik Tok AU #Forced Marriage #dubcon

[wordy-little-witch]

Okay so I have been…. Thinking big thinks about Agere!Buggy I can’t really put anywhere else so don’t mind me if I just drop this here. Tw for involuntary regression and Buggy having a not so fun time being little tough.

Personally I can really easily see as Buggy being someone who you… wouldn’t necessarily pick out as being regressed when it happens, partly because his upbringing was more unusual, living on a pirate ship and all, which means what he wants and needs tend to be different from people who grew up with a relatively normal childhood on an island or similar.

Buggy gets even more of a temper when he starts to regress, flips out more, seems to be ticked off at the smallest things, but not in his usually flamboyant, constant screaming manner, but more in a way that insinuates that he’s five minutes away from completly shutting down. When he finally retreats to a place where he’s alone he will most likely wreck parts of his room in anger and frustration, before breaking down quietly sobbing, because what Buggy longs for during those times aren’t toys or games specifically. When he feels small he longs for the feeling of someone playfully ruffling his hair and telling him „It’s gonna be fine kid.“ he longs for the times someone lifted him and Shanks on their shoulders while his family their crew was celebrating till deep into the night, he misses gruff men with calloused hands teaching him how to tie a decent knot. He misses a time before he had to grow up way, way quicker than even he would have thought, a time where Roger dying seemed like a nightmare you half remember the next day thinking to yourself how you could even come up with something like that. A time where Shanks would drive him to insanity but he also was certain he would sail him to the edge of the world. And no toys and no games will ever give that back to him.

Closing this angst fest out with saying that I actually do believe he could still gain some comfort from being little if the circumstances allow it. Both Mihawk and Crocodile fill in roles that in some ways would have fit in well with the Oro Jackson back in the day.

Crocodile is a big and intimidating man, not really cruel to him anymore but it would be a stretch to call him „nice“, yet little Buggy immediately feels relaxed in his presence, maybe even more so than big Buggy. He can count on Crocodile to protect him, even if he’s scolding the clown for being a pain in the ass, he doesn’t have to worry about anyone when he’s with Crocodile, strong, smart, wise Crocodile, who always seems to hug him just a bit closer when he feels small, even if he tries to play it off as casual pda towards his lover when they are in public.

The same goes for Mihawk, who’s imposing in a different way, but who has a natural knack at finding out what Buggy needs. Who can snark „Your bad mood is intolerable. You should lay down until you cooled off.“ and Buggy can whine and moan all he wants about that, his big side even haughtily proclaiming he doesn’t need to listen to Mihawk seriously assign him „Nap time“, but who more often than not find himself waking up next to Mihawk on their fancy couch, the swordsman reading a book next to him and seemingly paying no attention to him, but also Buggy doesn’t remember that he laid down with a blanket when he first slinked up next to Mihawk in the first place.

And if there was ever any room for a happy ending including Shanks, their crews would definetly see them emerge from the woods of an island they have just docked at, late in the evening. Both of their captains bantering and laughing, carrying a bucket of fish they just caught. They both look like messes, full of dirt and apperantly fruit juices, and Shanks just laughs when Yasopp asks what on earth they where doing. „We found some blackberry bushes and had a blackberry fight.“ neither of their crews fully get it but they do notice that their captains seem lighter after those days.

Jesus christ on a motorbike YES YESYES GIMME ALL YOUR THOUGHTS I will hoard them like a dragon I SwEaR!!!!!

Buggy would absolutely have really hyperspecific needs that he can't articulate or even fully grasp, big OR little.

Like.

The bit with Crocodile?? That makes him teeter more than most things. Big, Warm, Calloused Hands make him melt in every way imaginable but when Croc pats his head or gives him a squeeze, part of him just unfurls a teeny tiny little bit.

Mihawk just showing his care casually and quietly is always a good tale, especially with "assigning nap time" and the casual little blanket bit, just aaaaAAAA♡♡♡♡

And the TEMPER tes, Buggy has negative emotional regulation skills, but regressed?? That threshold just EVAPORATES. He'll slip sway, rage, and shatter alone because solitude is the safest thing to him. Maybe a few HIGHLY trusted people know, but... honestly, I think it'd be wild if Cabaji and Mohji knew, but once the Impel Down Thing happened and they went with Alvida as a captain, it fundamentally Altered Buggy's trust in them. Like. On the one hand, absolutely survival, he gets it, but on the other hand that's his crew, his people, and it stings ((and reminds him of another crew, one he trusted with his heart and soul and safety, who left him in pieces, bloodied and hunted because his father was killed and nobody was enough of an adult to help the literal children in their care)).

Also:

Buggy having weird little things he associates with childhood and the sensation there, it all being unusual to most is absolutely true 110%, no 1000000%. Learning knots just AAAAAAA Buggy regressing and his favorite toy being a rope kinda kills me /pos AND /neg.

Just. Imagine fir a minute all these small things culminating up until Crocodile and Mihawk get faced with smth mundane and typical like a stuffed animal or a certain toy, and Buggy just.... doesn't understand. He doesn't even recognize it. He's not entirely sure what the heck this thing is even meant for. Crocodile bought it, bc he's the type to spoil people, and Mihawk helped pick it out bc it was a generic thing, but there's zero recognition. And that hurts.

They knew Buggy's regression went hand in hand with the traumas and experiences he had, but this... it just slots all these pieces together in both men's heads that this honestly happened. Buggy was hurt as a child; an innocent child was stained in fear and blood and grief.

As for Shanks, I can see Buggy and him being aware of the stints where Buggy goes NUCLEAR even as a child, and them having a tentative system set up because they were Red and Blue, Shanks and Buggy, the literal embodiments of Ride Or Die. They are a package deal, Do Not Separate. So when it was just them after Roger disbanded the crew, they already had a solid basis. Roger helped somewhat, but nearing the end, he was sicker. They began pulling back, trying to let him rest as much as they could. So on their own, not much changed.

I'm also incredibly soft for the Shanks-And-Buggy-Never-Really-Separated concept ((#Thanks-Stereden)) so just. Them having frequent calls over Denden, safe and protected from prying ears, where Buggy was Big, Little, In Between and Shanks delighting in it all.

The day they all meet up, crews mingling, they go into the woods to look for a treasure maybe, and Buggy is always the safest with Shanks, can actually let loose a little more, can just BE. And one thing leads to another and they find the blackberries and Buggy drops because who else can he trust but his Red? His Red who is so very vulnerable, looking off to the treeline... they come back a mess, tired but happy, and Buggy's still not quite Big but not fully Small, but he's comfortable, he's happy, and he's very very excited to drag Red over to Hawky and Croccy because the got SO many fishes and berries and it isn't beri, but they're still good-!!

Ough I'm feral, shaking the bars of my cage THANK YOU ILYSM this ask made my dayyyyy ♡♡♡♡♡♡

#little buggy #agere buggy #agere one piece #sfw agere #buggy the clown #buggy headcanons #he's just a little guy #i will project on the clown #asks

[failchild]

(big pentiment spoilers and talk about suicide) i feel like there's a clear divide of opinion regarding the game's ending, and that correlates to how a person frames andreas running into the burning library. like, to me it's undeniably an act of desperation and suicide—he's attempting to control the one disaster he can, and in doing so is totally okay with dying for something so arbitrary. which is why him coming back in act 3 hits so hard (for meeee) because he wanted to die, but he couldn't! he's forced to find meaning in the life he hated so much...and he slowly heals and is able to teach young artists again when so much of his depression came from the loss of that very thing

on the other hand i think there are people who didn't catch on to how depressed andreas was—which is probably why they aren't totally satisfied with his reappearance. if he died heroically to save the people of tassing or whatever then it makes sense to feel that way, but in reality he "died" in a delirium trying to save, like, four books. not the tragic hero's death that some people might've framed it as!

anyways whatever...it never occurred to me that andreas might still be alive so when i saw him again in claus's room i screamed and started to tear up because he tried to kill himself but he failed and now he has to live with that and move forward!!! and that's such a wholly realized character arc it makes me go crazy. can't at all imagine how him being really dead would help the story.

jesus christ i wrote a lot. okay. did you know that medieval monks would have a tonsure day where they all lined up to get their tonsures shaved and they fought over who would get to go first because the last monks in line were left with dull razors and wet towels

#pentiment spoilers

[hardly-an-escape]

listen, I see your fanon conviction that Hob dislikes Shakespeare on principle after what happened in 1589, and I raise you: Hob learning about the anti-Stratfordians in the mid-19th century and immediately and wholeheartedly coming down on the opposite side of whatever that nonsense is:

you can’t tell me Mister Hob “Bob Everyman” Gadling, who’s visited the heights and depths of the early modern human experience, is going to accept the argument that one needs must be an educated nobleman in order to write great works of literature

or that someone of humble and obscure origins doesn’t have the fine sensibilities and creativity to understand and portray the breadth of emotion in Shakespeare’s plays

(Hob himself is intensely average and though he may not be able to write them, he can sure as hell understand them)

imagine, if you will, Hob constantly getting into trouble when arguing with anti-Stratfordians because half of his evidence is based on the fact that he knows it was Will Shakespeare because he fucking met Will Shakespeare

Hob constantly disgusted at the tendency of Certain Kinds of People to make things far far more complicated than they need to be, i.e… English spelling has never been consistent especially where names are concerned, there are no hidden ciphers, nobody faked their death or hid undiscovered manuscripts in any tombs, Ockham’s Razor for Christ’s sake etc. etc.

he teaches a seminar on the Shakespeare authorship question and it’s one of the most well-attended in the university’s history because he’s gained a reputation as an extremely animated lecturer

“listen, the man may have been a twat on a personal level but twats can be geniuses too”

(I blame @qqueenofhades for this because her fic AITWW is making me think A Lot about Hob and History and I already have feelings about Shakespeare authorship)

#The Sandman #Sandman meta #Hob Gadling #Shakespeare #Dreamling #Shakespeare authorship #reposting this from my main blog bc I think it may have been hidden from search results and I want to know what people think #my writing