#((apparently this group in the community paid for them

[puckinghischier]

Cart Girls & Curly Q’s

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl

notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?

[3k]

Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.

You, however, never wake up dreading your work.

During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.

During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.

The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.

Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.

You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.

Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.

Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.

You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.

As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.

They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.

You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.

Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.

You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.

Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.

You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.

“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.

You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.

“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.

He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.

After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.

Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.

“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.

You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.

“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.

His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.

“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.

You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.

“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.

“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.

You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.

Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.

When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.

You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.

The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.

“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.

You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.

“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.

“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.

You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.

“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.

“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.

He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.

You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.

“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.

“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.

Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.

You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.

Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.

You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.

His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.

“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.

“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”

Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.

“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.

“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”

“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”

“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.

“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.

“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”

He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.

“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.

“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.

“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”

You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.

This earns another laugh from Luke.

“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.

“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”

You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.

You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”

Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.

You pause all movements, staring at Luke.

“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.

Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.

“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.

“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.

“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.

Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.

“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.

Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.

You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.

“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.

You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.

You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.

“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.

Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.

You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.

You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.

As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.

You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.

“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.

You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.

You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.

Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.

Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.

He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.

Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.

You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.

When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.

He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.

“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.

[cloudystevie]

take my heart and start a fire

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 4566

summary || sam and nat play cupid

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, degradation, teasing, dry-humping, daddy kink, pussy slaps, dacryphilia, begging, asphyxiation, unprotected sex, aftercare

author's note || 18+ ONLY. hello, one-bed trope with bucky lives in my mind rent free and i decided to do something about it. enjoy! not proof-read yet. feel free to comment, reblog, and send me requests!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

“Alright, we got two rooms, one with just one bed and one with two beds. Should be enough to cover us tonight.” Sam claps his hands together as Bucky slowly walks up to the group. 

This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out mission. It was not easy by any means, but it was nothing the group hadn’t done before. You weren’t even supposed to be here. Usually, you did most of SHIELD’s groundwork, directing and organizing missions alongside Maria. However, due to issues with communication with one particular agent in the previous mission, Fury had instructed you to be on-site to ensure there would be no gaps in the instructions Maria and Steve were relaying. 

Except there was a gap. There was a gigantic gap in communication when you instructed Bucky to cover the cargo trailers in the westbound direction. Still, he decided you were wasting his time, so he left the trailers unattended, where the enemy was then able to take advantage of his isolation and overpower him. Had Natasha not interfered when she did, you did not even want to think about what could have happened. So you let him know just how pissed off you were the whole ride to the nearest motel since the world decided to unleash torrential rain at this very moment which made it impossible for you guys to navigate the jet out of whatever fucking city you were in. 

Bucky didn’t say a single word. Not when you were yelling at him while patching him up. Not when you wouldn't shut the fuck up because he never fucking listened. Not when you were running into the beat-down motel with its flickering sign on its last life while still screaming at him. 

He just stared at you. And he occasionally clenched his jaw. 

This wasn’t the first time Bucky disobeyed your direct order and it wasn’t the first time he got hurt because of that. You understood him, tried to initiate kindness, and extended a friendly hand toward him. But all he ever did was stare at you. He never spoke to you more than he absolutely needed to. He never paid any attention to you when you would hang out with Steve, Sam, or even Nat and Wanda. And it did sting you just a bit. A pang in your heart every time he walked past you like you didn’t exist because you had developed a crush on him since the first time you saw him a few months ago. When you would put a little extra effort into your appearance every morning because he made you feel little butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach every time you would even cross paths. 

When you did catch him staring at you, the weight of his eyes unmistakable, your heart rate would increase to match the flutters in your stomach, your cheeks heating under his gaze. He would look away immediately as if thrown out of his trance and catapulted into what he truly felt for you.

Disdain. Disgust. Maybe a little lust. 

God, you hated Bucky Barnes. You hated how you didn’t hate him, not even when he dismissed you somehow even more than he ignored everyone else. 

You were going to share a bed with Nat. Bucky and Sam could get the room with two beds because, of course, that was a reasonable conclusion. 

Apparently fucking not.

“I am not sharing a bed with him!” you screeched at Sam and Nat indignantly while the smug pair stood with faux innocent expressions. They needed you and Bucky to sort out whatever tension was between them by any means necessary.

They stayed silent, and you, ever the chatterbox today, decided to refuse. “Nat, I can’t sleep in the same room as him. He hates me! I can’t sleep when I’m stressed!” You whined, pleading with your best friend to take some pity on you. She knew better than anyone what you felt for Bucky, and she also knew love better than anyone when she saw it. 

Sam and Bucky walked a few steps ahead as you approached your door. 

“Sweetie, you and me are the only ones keeping up comms with Steve and Maria. It makes sense for us to be split up tonight so we can at least direct these morons at the same time and handle any issues faster than we’d be able to if we shared a room and they were in the other one.” Natasha knew she was right, and Sam fought back a smirk as their plan was falling into fruition, given the look on your face.

Bucky remained quiet as if he could not possibly care less if you slept on top of him in bed or a ditch.

You were this close to wishing the latter was your inevitable fate. 

“I hate it when you’re right.” As you approach the doors, you mutter and watch Sam take out the room keys.

Sam offers a small smile as Bucky walks in before you, patting you on the head and giving you a forehead kiss, “sweet dreams, pumpkin,” before shutting the door behind you as you roll your eyes.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.” Bucky’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence that had fallen after the lock clicked. His voice was raspy because he hadn’t used it in a while, and you barely held back the shiver that ran down your spine at his tone. 

You take one look at the fraying carpet and decide that it has been years since this floor had some TLC. You look up at him to find his heavy-set eyes already on you, “I’m not sleeping on the floor either.” 

His jaw clenches, and another unreadable emotion swirls in his eyes as he replies, “Guess that settles it, then.” 

You roll your eyes and huff out that you’re jumping in the shower, not waiting for his reply- not that there was one. The water takes a while to warm up, and in the meantime, you peel your clothes off of yourself, dirtied by rainwater and the dirt, debris, and sweat that had accumulated earlier. You step into the shower and try to enjoy the feel of warm water cascading over your sore body. 

You rarely made it onto the field as you genuinely preferred doing the background work, planning missions, writing up plans and procedures, assigning responsibilities to each Avenger and guiding them through the field while you stayed at the headquarters. Your muscles were undoubtedly aware of that fact, as you had to do a lot more hand-to-hand combat due to Bucky’s stupid mistake.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander towards him, knowing you were completely bare just 10 feet away from him, how he would grunt in exertion and deliver calculated blows to his opponent. He was precisely your type: tall, brooding, broad shoulders, thick thighs. He didn’t speak that much, but his words were carefully weighed every time he did. He was so grumpy all the time, such a masculine man. You just loved it. 

You tried not to think about how he didn’t feel the same. And also about the fact that you would be sharing a bed with him. 

The water grew cold, and you realized you had been in the shower for upwards of twenty minutes. You shut off the water and wrap yourself in one of the towels provided by the hotel. You pulled out your pyjama set since there was a possibility that you would have to stay somewhere tonight due to the heavy rain. You didn’t think you were sleeping with Bucky, or you would have grabbed something a bit more conservative. You slip into the white tank top and shorts with a dainty floral design. You mentally prepared yourself to make a bee-line for the bed so you wouldn’t have to face Bucky while wearing next to nothing. 

A few feet away, Bucky was scrolling through the shitty channels playing on the shitty TV, ignoring the way his heart raced when the bathroom door unlocked and you emerged from the small room. He tried so hard not to stare at your outfit, unable to ignore the way all the blood in his body rushed to his dick when your tiny shorts rolled up even higher as you innocently bent over to check over your work laptop for any updates. 

“You really gonna wear that?” He scoffs and immediately realizes it didn’t exactly come out as playful as he would have liked. He winces at himself as you put the laptop back into its case and turn around to face him, and he can't stop himself from quickly glancing over your body. 

Crossing your arms under your chest, unintentionally drawing his attention to your tits, you scoff at him. “If I knew I was gonna be stuck in this shithole with you, then I would have made sure to wear a fucking hazmat suit.” 

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not gonna bite.” He smirked, finally deciding on a channel he liked and turning his attention to it as you stood and stared at him, mouth open because out of all the things you expected him to say, that was not one of them, especially not with the flirtatious lilt to his voice. 

“Do not- do not tell me to relax! And don’t call me that! And- and ugh!” You retort weakly, strutting the few steps it took to get to the other side of the bed, 

Bucky licks his lips as you lay down next to him with your back towards him. Still huffing and puffing like the brat you were. 

He snorts at you, glancing at his watch and turning the TV off. 

“Do not snort at me, James.” Your voice comes out sharp, and he snorts again. 

“Tell me again what I can’t do, sweetheart? " he asks in a mockingly sweet voice. It makes you sick to your stomach.

 With desire.

You ignore him and tug the small comforter towards you, the bed suddenly feeling really small, with Bucky’s large frame taking up more than half of it. 

“Quit stealing the covers.” He grunts out, tugging them back towards him and leaving you bare and exposed to the cool air of the room. You gasp and sit up., using all your force to pull the covers back towards you, and even though you both know he let go, you still stick your tongue out at him. 

He grumbles something under his breath, and you smile victoriously. You’ll let the covers go eventually; you need to bask in your victory for a few minutes. Your mind begins to relax as you snuggle into the bed before you hear a sharp exhale, and somehow, you go from facing the dim wall to being pinned under Bucky. His frame entirely dwarfs yours, and the only light filtering in the room was the street lights and moon, the thin curtains doing nothing to block the shine. You shriek as you’re manhandled so quickly and forced to look into Bucky’s now dark blue eyes.

“Enough. I’ve had enough.” He growls, his hand pinning both your wrists down, and you have to fight yourself to keep in all tells of how aroused you are by the situation. 

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he continues. “Didn’t shut up for two hours straight. Always think you’re right. Always act like you’re smarter than everyone. Always fucking teasing me with your slutty fucking outfits.” He looks down at your tank top, almost angry when he sees your nipples poking through the thin material, but he doesn’t give you a chance to say anything.

Because now, Bucky’s talking. And he’s going to make sure you hear each and every word. 

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” 

A squeak escapes your lips as he presses his body down on yours.

“You think I can’t hear the way your heart rate picks up when I’m around?” His head drops lower, and his voice drops even lower, pulling a whimper from your parted lips. Your mind is spinning as you realize you may not have been as discreet as you thought you were. You entirely forgot to consider the fact that Bucky is a supersoldier, with enhanced hearing.

His rumbling voice cuts through your flurry of thoughts, “You think I can’t fucking smell you?” He practically sneers at you, and you must be a sick, sick person with the way you’re sure you’ve never been more wet in your life. “You think I can’t smell the way you drip from this little pussy every time I walk in the room? Every time someone mentions my goddamn name? I can smell her right now sweetheart. You like me forcing you down don’t you?” His breath fans over your face as you’re forced to focus on him, his body and his scent and his voice overwhelming you. Your body shudders when he gently rocks his crotch against yours, your eyes rolling back into your head. 

“What baby? Cat got your tongue now? You were being such a brat to me earlier.” He grunts, squeezing your cheeks and jaw in his free hand as you subconsciously buck your hips against his. 

“Bucky please…” You whine, squirming against his impenetrable hold. 

He smirks, “what’s wrong honey? You haven’t been this quiet or polite all day.”

“You- you’re being such a meanie! You knew the whole time and just never did anything about it!” You whine, your voice catching in your throat with each languid rock of his crotch angled perfectly against your clit. 

He laughs in your face and takes in the sight before him, your head thrown to the side as your chest heaves, your hips moving in tandem with his, your pouted lips swollen from being bitten so often. You were even more gorgeous like this and Bucky didn’t know that was possible.

“I wanted to see if you’d break first. But then, you just had to walk in here wearing this pathetic excuse of a pyjama set. And I just had to have you honey baby.”

You look back at him, a fiery expression in your eyes, “I don’t think that’s the real reason. I think you just wouldn’t be able to handle me. I think you can’t fuck me the way I need to be.” You spit back, not wanting to submit without a fight despite knowing that was exactly the direction this was going. 

In an instant Bucky’s metal hand was on your throat, squeezing enough to make your eyes blur for a second as you let out a whimper. “Is that right honey? You think I’ve never dealt with a rotten brat like you before? I know you pretend to put up a fight, I know you’re two strokes away from cumming all over yourself just from a little dry-humping. I know brats like you crave attention, but baby when you finally get it you better not run away? You got that?” He asks earnestly, his eyes locking on yours. 

“Do your worst James.” 

The second the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. The kiss is unlike any you’ve had before, it’s immediately messy and passionate, his tongue sliding in yours as he takes the lead, swallowing all your mewls and whimpers, finally letting go of your wrists and your fingers immediately go to his cropped hair, tugging on the short strands as he dominates you. You scramble to pull your shorts down but his hands flick your wrists away, giving you a glare.

“Did I say you could take these off, huh slut?” 

You whimper and shake your head no, finding yourself wanting to submit to him all too quickly.

He slides his briefs down to reveal his cock. You actually drooled a little at the sight of his length and girth, with beads of pre-cum glistening in the dim light of the room. You can’t control yourself as your hands go to wrap around his length, barely able to hold him in your hands as he hisses, bucking his hips into your hands before swatting them away once again.

“You don’t get to touch honey baby. Not yet at least. You yelled at me for hours today, it really hurt my feelings you know.” He muses, beginning to rub his length against your white shorts that are completely drenched through, your pussy sensitive and responsive. “I don’t think you deserve to be fucked sweetheart. You deserve to have this cunt rubbed on and came on. Just used like a cum rag.” He goes a little further, reading your reaction and when your back arches as much as his beefy body allowed you to, he knows you liked it. 

“Please James please I’m sorry, I’ll be good I swear!” You whine, your voice rising in pitch as his bare cock slides up and down the length of your pussy, and even through the layer seperating you, it was euphoric.

“I dunno honey, might have to beg and cry a little more and I’ll see how nice I’m feelin’ tonight.” He smiles cockily, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you. Almost instantly your eyes are watering as you clutch his biceps, morphing your features into big doe eyes and pouted lips, jutting your chest out in an attempt to persuade him further. “I’m sorry for bein’ a brat and yelling at you. I’m sorry for talking back and- and I need you James. Need you to fuck me please I wanted it for so long!” You drag your sentence and bite your lip, tears spiling onto your cheeks. 

He inhales sharply at the sound of your begging, stilling his hips for a moment as he restrains himself from cumming before he’s even seen your bare pussy. And in the next second he ripping your shorts to shreds, making you shriek and you can’t even get a reaction out before he spits onto your already soaked cunt, watching his spit mingle with your own arousal. You moan at the feeling, your hold twitching and practically begging to be filled. 

Bucky breathes in your scent since it envelopes his nostrils without any restrictions for the first time. When he opens his eyes again and sees your hazy expression he decides he can’t wait. He’s not gonna take it slow because he needs to feel you clench around him right now. His flesh index finger teases your pulsing hole, shoving the tip of his finger inside you as you whine, legs spreading for him on instinct. “Fuck she’s just begging to be stuffed isn’t she? Just aching to have my cock stretch her open.” He groans, dropping his forehead to yours as you chant breathy yes’s, mouth falling open and tears continuing down your face as he finally spreads you open on his cock. 

You have never felt so full in your life. Bucky was absolutely larger than average, in all ways. And it was exactly what you had been craving. He moans as you clench around him, your hole trying to push him out but pull him in at the same time. Before you know it he’s balls deep inside of you, your cream coating the hairs at the base of his length as you moan loudly, uncaring of the fact that Sam and Natasha were just a paper-thin wall away.

Your nails dug crescents into Buckys bulging biceps as he allowed you both a few moments to adjust to each other. “Oh my god Bucky you’re so- I’m so full.” Your words are breathy and slurred, and Bucky presses a kiss to each of your cheeks as he slowly grinds his hips into yours, not fully thrusting yet. 

“You know I want this to be more than just a quick fuck. When we get back I wanna take you out, wine and dine you properly.” He whispers against your lips, his hands and voice gentle compared to his earlier disposition. 

You nod your head in agreement, “I want that too Bucky, but I need you to fuck me right now.” 

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling almost entirely out of you, allowing your hole to stretch around his tip before he slams into you, making your back arch and all the breath from your lungs dissipates. You squeal his name as he begins fucking into you with little care to be gentle. Your hands scramble to hold on as the headboard slams into the wall with every push and pull of his hips.

“I thought you said I couldn’t handle you honey baby. But look at you now, so stupid on my dick and just taking what I give you.” He mocks you, his metal hand finding its way to your throat once again and squeezing, relishing in the way you cunt clenches against him when he does. You cry out louder than before and he hisses, slapping his palm over your mouth. He grunts through clenched teeth, “shut the fuck up. You want Sam and Nat to hear you crying for my dick huh? What would they say if they saw strong and independent you, stretched open and cock-drunk, pinned under me and crying for me?”

Your eyes clench shut as your words are unintelligible and muffled by his palm. He coos at you and clicks his tongue, making you shiver. “Don’t think too much honey baby, just take it. This is what you’re meant to do, not be a brat. Just take my cock.” He groans, speeding up his thrusts as the sound of skin slapping skin and your wetness squelching fill the room. 

Your chest begins heaving as the oxygen to your brain takes more effort to get there. You were being propelled to your orgasm as you begin chanting the fact, your voice so pornographic and unlike your own but you can’t even find it in yourself to be shocked.

“‘M gonna cum, m gonna cum! You’re gonna make me cum please Daddy please!” The words leave your lips faster than you can process, and what was about to erupt into the most powerful orgasm you have ever had, was left denied and unsatisfied and you cried out, beginning your protests when Bucky flipped you around, your back to his chest as he shoved himself back inside of you. He pulled you up by your hair and brought his lips to your ears, his cock hitting an even deeper angle as you struggled to keep up.

“What did you call me?” He growls, not letting up his thrusts but expecting you to answer.

Your brain struggles to process his words, but once you do you’re quick to realize you let the word you often used in your fantasies about Bucky slip. You immediately apologize, thinking he must be off-put by your lewdness. 

He cuts your scrambled apologies off with his heavy voice, “say it again. That’s what you’ve been really dying to call me isn’t it. Just needed Daddy to take what he needed from you didn’t you?”

“Oh fuck.” Your head falls against his chest as he wraps his bicep around your throat, forcing you upright, “yes Daddy, needed my Daddy to take care of me.” You slur out, Your hands clutching his bicep as his metal fingers begin playing expertly with your throbbing clit. 

“That’s right slut, I’m your Daddy. I’m your fucking Daddy.” He impales you on his dick, his cock reaching all the rights spots as your brain truly begins to leave you, all you can do is succumb to the pleasure Bucky is inflicting on you. Your pussy clenches harder than it has before as your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach, you try to run from it but Bucky’s strong hold doesn’t allow you to move even a slither away. 

“Oh what does this little pussy clenching mean huh? Tell Daddy baby, tell Daddy what it means when I feel you clench around my cock huh? You gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over yourself like the stupid little toy you are?” His voice is breathless in your ear as he nears his own high, your body shaking as your high begins building to impossible heights. 

You slur out something that resembles his title and an exclamation that you’re gonna cum, and his metal hand slaps your clit once, and then twice, his gravelly voice in your ear degrading you, and your high explodes from your body. You feel it everywhere as you don’t register anything except for pleasure. Pleasure like you’ve never felt before. Bucky drops his forehead to your shoulder, muttering your name through clenched teeth as he calls you a good girl, before stuffing you full of his cum. Thick white ropes paint your swollen walls and it only amplifies your high as you struggle to breathe, your mind and body overwhelmed and overstimulated as Bucky pumps you full of his cum. 

He gently lets you down and your limp body manages to cling onto him, needing to feel him close to you as you reel from your explosive orgasm. He shushes you, kissing your forehead, cooing at you, praising you. Everything you need to avoid experiencing a negative subdrop since he did just put you into such a submissive mindset. 

It takes a couple minutes of his tender words and touches for you to come back to yourself, and when you do he smiles sweetly at you. Pulling out of you and shushing your whines, as he reaches over to his nightstand where there were a few clean hand towels, and he cleans you up, mindful of your sensitivity and he places a kiss right above your clit, his beard scratching the sensitive button making you shudder and mewl. 

He wraps you up in his arms and pulling you closer, nuzzling your cheek with his nose as you blink at him. 

“I was being serious you know, I don’t want this to be a one and done thing. I wanna be yours, if you’ll have me.” He adds, his voice trailing off and you put your hand on his stubbled cheek before pressing your lips to his. 

“That’s all I’ve wanted since I first saw you.” You say softly, basking in being so close to him and having all his attention on you. 

He smiles brightly, pressing his lips to yours with more fervour and flutters in his heart. “You’re mine now sweetie, stuck with me forever. No return policy.” He teases. 

“I think you’re the one who’s stuck with me after you just dicked me down like that. No way am I getting rid of you.” You mumble sleepily, clinging to him as he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and watching you slip into a dreamland state.

For the first time in years, Bucky sleeps a full eight hours. And he wakes up with you by his side.

---------

The next morning, when it’s 9 AM, and you waddle onto the jet, Bucky tailing close behind you, a hand on your back to support your weight, Natasha and Sam share knowing looks, and Sam quickly texts Steve and Tony. He let them know they were on their way, and they owed him and Nat 100 bucks because their plan worked.

[spitefullyjewish]

Okay, this is my third time trying to put this into words. I am very upset, hurt, and honestly terrified. I’m about to share a lot about myself, my family, and a very scary situation happening right now, so for my own safety, I won’t provide too many details.

I live in a secondary city in a South American country. The Jewish community here is very small—around 5,000 people total out of over 50 million. In my city, which has over 3 million people, there are only about 300 Jews. We’re literally on the other side of the world from Israel.

We own a family business, a small clothing factory where we make knitted garments. It was founded by my grandmother 48 years ago. My father is the current manager, and both my sister and I work there. We employ around 80 people. We pay fair and legal wages (not the industry standard in my country), and although times are really hard, we’ve never missed a payment, not once in our 48 years in business. My father paused his own salary and hasn’t received a cent since January, and my sister and I both stopped getting paid for three months. But the people who work with us have always received their salaries as they should.

Now, today, September 30th, (just a couple of days before the start of our high holidays and exactly one week before the first anniversary of October 7th) the biggest and most important public university in my city, in conjunction with the syndicate council, invited the Palestinian ambassador to give a conference about the current situation and the war. Well, apparently, it derailed into open antisemitism and ended up as a conference about how Jews are all thieves and scammers. Because, I kid you not, back in the '90s, a huge group of my country’s biggest companies went bankrupt and couldn’t pay their employees what they owed. One out of about 30 of those companies was owned by Jewish people. So, of course, "we Jews are all liars, scammers, and thieves, just like the Israelis—always trying to take what doesn’t belong to us"

So, what conclusion did they reach at this conference about Palestine and the current war happening on the other side of the world? Well, naturally, they decided to target Jewish-owned businesses in my city (which means our factory and two other small businesses in our area) to protest and vandalize, because we’re all thieves and scammers, and Israel is bad and horrible, and everyone in my city needs to be made aware of that. When are they planning to come? October 7th, of course, when else?

The only reason I even know about this is that one of my Jewish friends decided to attend the conference to hear from the Palestinian ambassador and, risking their own safety, stayed to hear the names of the businesses that are going to be targeted.

I'm hurt and scared and I've been trying not to cry since I found out. These are the people on the left, these we were supposed to be my people, I've marched with them, I've worked and voted with them. I don't know what to do? Please, please tell me how are they different from actual Nazis? How is this situation different from any other jew living in Europe in the 1930's? I guess shannah fucking tovah to me, as if last year wasn't a wake up call. I am fucking awake.

[fatehbaz]

front page news for years now, "the homelessness crisis", newspaper printing letters to the editor from homeowners fretting about the "freeloaders" and how "dirty" homeless people are, the city progressively worsening their cracking down with ordinances. biggest issue in the city. apartments $675 in 2015 though unchanged go for $1500 in 2024. few months ago, significant new ordinance further criminalizing visible homelessness and banning people from parks and trails. multiple "community groups" now that hold events and pool money for advocacy, except they're not raising money to help poor people, they're raising money to pay for ads and banners and posters to say "keep them out of our neighborhood". imagine: in their free time, they go out of their way to attend potlucks, to get together, to talk about how much they don't like homeless people. it's that much of a priority in their lives. the place is reputed as by far "the most progressive city in the region". huge "enlightened (white) liberal" identity thing. many nonprofits.

this week, biking to work through middle class single-family neighborhood full of municipal employees. recoil and frown when i see the first yard sign: "no camping in parks! protect our children! protect our neighborhood!" but encounter more. many more. practically every other yard has the sign. these are administrators, plumbers, public school teachers, receptionists. people you interact with on a daily basis, who often have power over your well-being, who you hope would have your back, and these are the feelings and beliefs they are harboring.

very next morning. the big front page newspaper headline was the city announcing new contract, massive budget and payment to "private security force" to supervise several neighborhoods. giving them the power to issue warnings under city's new ordinances. (this is not the first year the city has paid mercenaries either. they've been doing it for about 5 years. they stand on street corners, tackle and remove "uncooperative" people from shelter vicinity, flaunting armor and weapons, glaring at passersby.) newspaper explains that someone on city council did try to add an amendment. they proposed that maybe the private security force (1) should not carry firearms, and (2) should at least wear body cameras if they were going to be a private company, interacting with the public, with the legal power to issue warnings. but nope. amendment rejected by 7 of the 9 councilors. the private contractors will carry guns and will not wear body cameras.

"most progressive city in the region" full of nonprofit careerists and liberal civil servant types cannot afford to put beds in shelters. cannot afford better social services. but they can apparently afford to pay massive sums to armed mercenaries. they will act with haste to introduce criminalizing ordinances. they will go out of their way even in their free time to rally and shout about keeping "dirty" people away from "our parks!"

[gor3sigil]

Trans drag performers deserve better.

Okay so since y'all seem interested, here we go.

[This is about MY experience as a “former” transmasc drag king, in my local scene. This isn't representative of the drag scene as a whole because drag is a wide, huge scene with pretty much any type of people in it. I have never done paid gig. I only performed a couple of times before deciding to stop.]

I discovered drag with RuPaul like a lot of people, and for a long time, I only knew about drag queens. It’s when I learned about an initiation to drag king happening in my town that I decided to try it. I did a bit of research before the event took place and that's how I learned that drag king is widely undocumented, compared to drag queen. A bit disheartening but I was excited to do something new and especially to get back in my local queer community after 2 years or so of “no contact” with it because trauma (see my post about my first T4T relationship to understand why).

First surprise when I got there, I was the only transmasc present as an attendee. The organiser and person who teached us is agender and go by he/him, and his at the time SO is a transmasc enby but appart from them, I was the only trans person. Most of the others were cis lesbian women. Makes sense. The initiation weekend went really well and we ended up performing in an open scene at the end. I can't count the amount of times I got misgendered by other kings during this weekend and I have to say, it pissed me off so fucking bad because I was the only one getting consistantly misgendered. But I brushed it off and had a blast.

My drag persona is more of a dragula king, really goth, and I did a lipsync performance on a Black Dresses song. I loved it and had a blast. A year or so later, we decided with other drag kings to do a little group to perform together.

Once again, I'm the only trans person.

And that's when the shitshow kinda happened. From all the drag kings present, I was also the only one who wasn't already part of a collective. So the group we had was composed of people from 2 collectives who would basically cheer each other out at every show, and it's great !! But I wasn't being integrated into the group, and I felt defeated. One of the main reasons why I didn't go to drag shows was because I was FLAT BROKE. I couldn't attend these events as they were always or in a bar so you have to at least buy a drink, or had a fee, and I couldn't afford that.

We started doing rehearsals and I set up a discord server for us all to use and organize the said rehearsals. It soon became apparent that they weren't really serious about this group, that they were more involved in their own collectives and it was HELL to have at least one rehearsal a month. But we had a show scheduled for september, and half of the kings weren't ready, didn't know their texts nor songs. I knew it was going to be bad. Also we were confirmed that the gig was going to actually happen 3 days only before, because the people who said they were going to do the visuals NEVER DID and we had to fumble something quick so the event was promoted very fucking late and we weren't sure we could even afford to do it, because not many tickets were sold.

During the rehearsals I got singled out for everything. My voice was dropping because of the T (I had started 8 months prior) and I tried to do my best with the singing parts but got told a few times that my low voice would sound “weird” amongst the sopranos. Also, one of the solo part a king was going to perform was on a very upbeat music and he said we could join IF WE WANTED.

I said I'd pass since it wasn't my style at all.

And when we got to the venue, the venue didn't have any backstage and I had my solo part just after that, so I couldn't just stand there on stage and do nothing. The others in my group KNEW IT as they had performed in this venue BEFORE but just told me “oh, too bad, improvise something” when they were the same ones who told me that taking part in the number was not mandatory.

Regarding the other artists, man, I hated everything. I got misgendered constantly IN KING LIKE - I'M A DRAG KING FFS. Even by others in my group.

When I corrected another performer, a cis gay dude, he laughed at my FACE and told me “but you're trans aren't you like, against gender or something ?”. As I was pre op and still early in my transition I was basically outing myself everytime I told my pronouns and I got so many cis performers ask me invasive questions about my sex life, or being like “yeah I have a trans friend who goes by X but I knew them as Y so it's Y to me but it's not in a disrespectful way you see”.

So yeah, I didn't have a great night. :)

The cis kings called me “girl” or “sis” because “I'm one of them” even after telling them time and time again that I wasn't comfortable with that.

And after this quite disastrous experience, the same ones who called me “girl” and me got into an argument because they wanted to change a song about forced toxic masculinity which is an INCREDIBLY POWERFUL AND BEAUTIFUL SONG into lyrics to talk about femininity. I said that we could use another song then, because there's so few cis men singers who sing about being forced into toxic masculinity and virility that I found that a bit disrespectful to take this important message and make it about women and femininity. There's plenty of songs about that that we could use.

And now guess what ? I was a MEAN MAN who wanted women to NOT TALK ABOUT THEIR ISSUES because I was a very MANLY DUDE DISGUSTING MALE.

The same people who couldn't gender me correctly and called me “sis” a WEEK BEFORE.

So yeah, I got the fuck out and gave up.

I really wish I can perform again one day, but it'll be in another scene.

So PSA: book drag kings, because they are so underrepresented it's disheartening, RESPECT trans drag performers, don't but bioessentialism in drag for the LOVE OF GOD IT'S DRAG. Like imagine being transphobic as a DRAG PERFORMER. Learn the history. And fucking do better.

[aithusarosekiller]

The emeralds are definitely the group that everyone fearfully avoids as much as possible

And not because they're popular or violent, they're just weird to the point of it being unsettling to anyone who knows them. They're just sort of scary and it's not because they try to be, they just are. They're so used to each other that they don't even realise.

People won't think twice about them at first because they're just like any other random friend group but the second you've sat and actually paid attention to them you're avoiding them like the plague. They don't typically have many other close friends outside of their group because people are too wary of them so they've sort of become one group so close-knit that seem to be on the same brainlength permanently.

Like you've got-

Dorcas: who can modify almost any spell to be ten times as powerful as usual. She won't use them against people but she'll make her talent known by practicing and performing spells with her friends where others can see. To her she's just practicing her skill and to her friends it's just 'normal cassie' but it scares the shit out of most people who see it. Even teachers are startled at her skill and power levels. She is also fiercely protective of her group and her younger sister. Not that anyone would dare try anything after seeing how strong her channeling of magic is. She has all the potential to be a popular girl but everyone's fear of her power and her loyalty to her existing friends hold her back from that.

Barty: who is so much of a genius he could outsmart the minister if he wanted. He's clever and a little intimidating but also really good at hiding information about himself. Ask ten different people what he's like and you'll get ten different answers. Nobody ever knows what he's really thinking except apparently his own group. He has ways of having an hour long conversation and extracting your entire life story while sharing nothing in return. He'll sometimes get a small glint in his eye that only his friends seem to understand as a strange mix between inspiration and anger. To an outsider it just looks strange.

Evan: has on multiple occasions set people's essays on fire for talking shit about his friends and always gets away with it through the word of one of his groups. He managed to get an in with snape's gang, the popular Ravenclaws in the year below and the entire Hufflepuff quidditch team. Everyone knows he doesn't actually like any of them- he only truly likes his main group (the emeralds)- but nobody can figure out why he likes to float around and watch others. In reality he just likes knowing how people's minds and dynamics work. Getting people to defend him if he faces trouble is just a bonus

Regulus: he is the confusing one. He's quiet and isn't easily noticed if you aren't paying close attention. But he's smart. Not Barty's level of academic genius, he's a very logical person. He can be given one small piece of information and do almost anything with it, draw any conclusion. He can seemingly communicate a train of thought with his friends just by looking at them to the point where there are rumours of him being a legilimens. He gives the feeling of knowing more than he lets on. To his friends, despite his quietness he is warm and sensitive but where they get that impression from is anybody's guess.

Pandora: who's just on such another level of morbid that people will be scared to whisper about her behind her back incase she or one of the other's hear them. She carries small, probably haunted porcelain dolls with her at all times, which are apparently gifts to her from some of the forest-folk during one of her many visits to the forbidden forest. She is also known to dabble in necromancy, particularly regarding animals. She meddles a lot with whatever niche types of magic she can find with little guidance, which many find scary. She's very empathetic but her curiosity in the morbid only scares people off. She's usually kind to anybody she comes across but that won't stop them from being wary and staying away.

And in their heads they're just another normal group who hang out a lot, understand each other, are liked by the teachers, and help new first years when they get lost. But to the rest of the people in their year as well as the year above and below, they're insane.

[womenaremypriority]

This is so horrific.

———————

I have been following Siro’s story for 30 years, ever since I went to interview her and four other rural midwives in India’s Bihar state in 1996.

They had been identified by a non-governmental organisation as being behind the murder of baby girls in the district of Katihar where, under pressure from the newborns’ parents, they were killing them by feeding them chemicals or simply wringing their necks.

Hakiya Devi, the eldest of the midwives I interviewed, told me at the time she had killed 12 or 13 babies. Another midwife, Dharmi Devi, admitted to killing more - at least 15-20.

It is impossible to ascertain the exact number of babies they may have killed, given the way the data was gathered.

But they featured in a report published in 1995 by an NGO, based on interviews with them and 30 other midwives. If the report’s estimates are accurate, more than 1,000 baby girls were being murdered every year in one district, by just 35 midwives. According to the report, Bihar at the time had more than half a million midwives. And infanticide was not limited to Bihar.

Refusing orders, Hakiya said, was almost never an option for a midwife.

“The family would lock the room and stand behind us with sticks,” says Hakiya Devi. “They’d say: ‘We already have four-five daughters. This will wipe out our wealth. Once we give dowry for our girls, we will starve to death. Now, another girl has been born. Kill her.’

“Who could we complain to? We were scared. If we went to the police, we’d get into trouble. If we spoke up, people would threaten us."

The role of a midwife in rural India is rooted in tradition, and burdened by the harsh realities of poverty and caste. The midwives I interviewed belonged to the lower castes in India’s caste hierarchy. Midwifery was a profession passed on to them by mothers and grandmothers. They lived in a world where refusing orders of powerful, upper-caste families was unthinkable.

The midwife could be promised a sari, a sack of grain or a small amount of money for killing a baby. Sometimes even that was not paid. The birth of a boy earned them about 1,000 rupees. The birth of a girl earned them half.

The reason for this imbalance was steeped in India’s custom of giving a dowry, they explained. Though the custom was outlawed in 1961, it still held strong in the 90s - and indeed continues into the present day.

A dowry can be anything - cash, jewellery, utensils. But for many families, rich or poor, it is the condition of a wedding. And this is what, for many, still makes the birth of a son a celebration and the birth of a daughter a financial burden.

Siro Devi, the only midwife of those I interviewed who is still alive, used a vivid physical image to explain this disparity in status.

“A boy is above the ground - higher. A daughter is below - lower. Whether a son feeds or takes care of his parents or not, they all want a boy.”

The preference for sons can be seen in India’s national-level data. Its most recent census, in 2011, recorded a ratio of 943 women to every 1,000 men. This is nevertheless an improvement on the 1990s - in the 1991 census, the ratio was 927/1,000.

By the time I finished filming the midwives’ testimonies in 1996, a small, silent change had begun. The midwives who once carried out these orders had started to resist. 

This change was instigated by Anila Kumari, a social worker who supported women in the villages around Katihar, and was dedicated to addressing the root causes of these killings.

Anila’s approach was simple. She asked the midwives, “Would you do this to your own daughter?”

Her question apparently pierced years of rationalisation and denial. The midwives got some financial help via community groups and gradually the cycle of violence was interrupted.

Siro, speaking to me in 2007, explained the change.

“Now, whoever asks me to kill, I tell them: ‘Look, give me the child, and I’ll take her to Anila Madam.’”

The midwives rescued at least five newborn girls from families who wanted them killed or had already abandoned them.

One child died, but Anila arranged for the other four to be sent to Bihar’s capital, Patna, to an NGO which organised their adoption.

The story could have ended there. But I wanted to know what had become of those girls who were adopted, and where life had taken them.

Anila’s records were meticulous but they had few details about post-adoption.

Working with a BBC World Service team, I got in touch with a woman called Medha Shekar who, back in the 90s, was researching infanticide in Bihar when the babies rescued by Anila and the midwives began arriving at her NGO. Remarkably, Medha was still in touch with a young woman who, she believed, was one of these rescued babies.

Anila told me that she had given all the girls saved by the midwives the prefix “Kosi” before their name, a homage to the Kosi river in Bihar. Medha remembered that Monica had been named with this “Kosi” prefix before her adoption.

The adoption agency would not let us look at Monica’s records, so we can never be sure. But her origins in Patna, her approximate date of birth and the prefix “Kosi” all point to the same conclusion: Monica is, in all probability, one of the five babies rescued by Anila and the midwives.

When I went to meet her at her parents’ home some 2,000km (1,242 miles) away in Pune, she said she felt lucky to have been adopted by a loving family.

“This is my definition of a normal happy life and I am living it,” she said.

Monica knew that she had been adopted from Bihar. But we were able to give her more details about the circumstances of her adoption.

Earlier this year, Monica travelled to Bihar to meet Anila and Siro. 

Monica saw herself as the culmination of years of hard work by Anila and the midwives.

“Someone prepares a lot to do well in an exam. I feel like that. They did the hard work and now they’re so curious to meet the result… So definitely, I would like to meet them.”

Anila wept tears of joy when she met Monica. But Siro’s response felt different.

She sobbed hard, holding Monica close and combing through her hair.

“I took you [to the orphanage] to save your life… My soul is at peace now,” she told her.

But when, a couple of days later, I attempted to press Siro about her reaction, she resisted further scrutiny.

“What happened in the past is in the past,” she said.

But what is not in the past is the prejudice some still hold against baby girls.

Reports of infanticide are now relatively rare, but sex-selective abortion remains common, despite being illegal since 1994.

If one listens to the traditional folk songs sung during childbirth, known as Sohar, in parts of north India, joy is reserved for the birth of a male child. Even in 2024, it is an effort to get local singers to change the lyrics so that the song celebrates the birth of a girl.

While we were filming our documentary, two baby girls were discovered abandoned in Katihar - one in bushes, another at the roadside, just a few hours old. One later died. The other was put up for adoption.

Before Monica left Bihar, she visited this baby in the Special Adoption Centre in Katihar.

She says she was haunted by the realisation that though female infanticide may have been reduced, abandoning baby girls continues.

“This is a cycle… I can see myself there a few years ago, and now again there’s some girl similar to me.”

But there were to be happier similarities too.

The baby has now been adopted by a couple in the north-eastern state of Assam. They have named her Edha, which means happiness.

“We saw her photo, and we were clear - a baby once abandoned cannot be abandoned twice,” says her adoptive father Gaurav, an officer in the Indian air force.

Every few weeks Gaurav sends me a video of Edha's latest antics. I sometimes share them with Monica.

Looking back, the 30 years spent on this story were never just about the past. It was about confronting uncomfortable truths. The past cannot be undone, but it can be transformed.

And in that transformation, there is hope.

[learnastrowallura]

🧡The Third House in Astrology🧡

The source if this information is The Astrology Podcast (Chris Brennan) on Youtube and from the book The Twelve Houses: Exploring the Houses of the Horoscope by Howard Sasportas + I will apply the knowledge I have acquired on my own 3rd house placements as well

If you have any questions let me know <3

3rd house: interaction, communication, language, mind, mental, forming ideas, concrete, logic, sequential thought, rationale, pragmatism, practicality, intellect, fact, knowledge, siblings, early education, adolescence, writing, speaking, media, connecting information, short term/distance travel, early life, walking, talking, driving, familiarity, friendship, immediate environment, cadent, goddess, moon

Our relationship to/how we perceive knowledge, the elements we tend to focus on based on what is presented right in front of us/our immediate environment, the nature of our relationships with our siblings/uncles/aunts/neighbors/cousins (people that are present within sight; parents could be included as well but not within an important context since they are more significant and we associate other houses with them), how our formative early school education went, our ability to classify/connect/give a structure to pieces of information, what type of information we consume often etc

Personal example: I have Capricorn and Neptune in the third house

First thing I have ever learned or perceived about knowledge is that it is nothing/unimportant/insignificant? But especially if not accompanied by hard work, structure, and apparent success (particularly perceived from others; which would create a certain reputation for me) so this was immediately seen as the end goal for me basically it's giving very Capricorn energy- but then I also have Neptune in Aquarius in the 12th degree in the third house and for me this manifests in focusing on the taboo, eccentric but also SPIRITUAL aspects/topics of life and wanting to learn more about them and kind of making that my focus in this lifetime while channeling that disciplined Capricorn energy into it. I was also top of my class (elementary, middle school) when I was younger since I studied quite hard as well. I was also an only child who dreamed of having siblings and saw sibling relationships as this very beautiful, mystical, otherwordly thing (Neptune) and then later on when I was 13 learned that I DID have them 😭 3 half siblings which was very Aquarius (sudden and fast information) energy too

Other thing I would like to mention is I have my Neptune trining my Jupiter in Libra in the 11th house in the 11th degree and the trine is a harmonious aspect and to me this manifests in my learning experiences being so much more pleasant and comfortable when they are within a context of a group of people with whom I can discuss and share passions, as well as maybe help people in some way

Comment down below your 3rd house sign, planets and aspects

Thank you for reading <3

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Masterlist

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[ghcstao3]

hi again, hope school isn't being too hard on you :( I figured I'd send a few ideas in & you can answer whenever!

IT'S COLD! so how about the 141 during the summer, doing some of your favorite activities! Or maybe a teeny ramble about what each likes doing the most...?

if it's not triggering...SoapGhost in uni. The class they share is for 1 of their majors & the other's minor (or maybe just for extra credits). The extra credit assignment involves taking a day trip somewhere & they're the only 2 who go.

Soap's 2nd job happens to be helping out his local unicorn community, who have all but gone extinct. He comes across the fabled Simon Riley, the Ghost of Soap's hometown, as the poor guy wanders around after being held captive by fey for decades.

school’s just been busy more than anything thankfully!! it’s a lot of work but certainly not too difficult:)

and ahh it was hard to choose from one of these i might have to return to the others. but honestly writing about them in uni is like therapy

-

Simon and John meet in an upper level English literature course.

Well—Simon never really had much say in the matter, not when John had plopped himself down in the seat beside him on the first day even in spite of all the other empty desks in the small classroom. Apparently it’s what John’s heart had desired, and never having been one for unnecessary confrontation, Simon never says anything of it.

He could never really pinpoint when their friendship began, maybe forged through general interest in the topic and whispered comments and jokes about some of the contents during lectures, or maybe through necessity when they’re not familiar with many others in the class, but either way—John ends up becoming one of the better friends Simon’s made in all his years of university.

The thing is, though, with majors that don’t overlap in the slightest—be it Simon’s English major and John’s own in chemistry—they don’t really see much of each other outside of class, unless it means working on a group project. Simon thinks—believes—they’d both like to be friends outside of the course, but… for whatever reason, they each have difficulty initiating anything.

Simon, personally, would like something more. But he doesn’t need it. Just wants John’s company regardless.

But they have their difficulties throughout the semester, that is, until their professor—a sweet old woman, who endures far too much from the few immature students in her class—announces that she had received funding from the department to take interested students to a professional production of Macbeth in a town an hour over. It’s without hesitation that Simon and John both agree to go.

But since it’s so close to finals season, they end up being the only two to go through with attending.

Not that Simon’s complaining—it just means more time spent with John alone. Sort of.

And not to mention he gets to see how nicely John cleans up for the event.

“I’m so glad you boys still came,” their professor says in greeting. “I was afraid no one wanted to go anymore.”

John smiles that stupidly charming smile at her, and Simon’s really beginning to feel the extent of his growing crush on his friend.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” he says.

“Oh, thank you, John.” She glances between them both, some knowing expression appearing briefly on her face before she ushers them inside the theatre. She hands them their tickets, tells them to go ahead, she has some friends from the local university she wants to meet with before the performance starts.

As they settle into their seats, John leans into Simon’s space—closer than he could ever manage at a desk. Simon hopes the theatre’s dark enough that John can’t see the way his ears burn red.

“Warning you now,” John whispers. “I know fuck all about Shakespeare language, so you’re gonna have a lot of explainin’ to do.”

Simon huffs, trying to dispel some of the heat of his blush. “Maybe you should’ve paid more attention in class, then, Johnny.”

John laughs, knocking his shoulder against Simon’s. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been telling me so many jokes during lectures, Mr. English major.”

Simon rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother retaliating. Instead they fall into meaningless conversation until the play begins, quieting only slightly when their professor arrives and sits on the other side of Simon.

The lights dim in the audience, and the performance starts. Simon watches with rapt attention, but true to his word, John asks him far too many questions.

He doesn’t particularly mind, though, when he can feel John’s knee press against his all the while.

John rambles when it’s over, and despite the interrogation, he seemed to understand and enjoy it as much as Simon and their professor had. Simon’s more than content to listen as their professor bids them goodnight, and they both head to the train station while she heads to her car.

Simon isn’t sure what it is that causes it—but the entire ride back, John seems to encroach in his space more than usual, stuck to Simon like glue. Simon does notice his eyes drooping and his head nodding off every once in a while, so he has the excuse of writing it off as exhaustion.

Particularly when John is resting his head on Simon’s shoulder.

“Don’t wanna walk back to my flat,” John laments once they’re climbing off at their stop. “Too far.”

It’s a fit of impulse that has Simon offering, “You could stay at mine? It’s only five minutes.”

And there’s no hesitation when John accepts with a weary grin.

“You’re a lifesaver, Si,” John sighs. “Could kiss you right now.”

Simon freezes. John doesn’t notice as he ambles further away from the train platform.

“What’d you say?”

John pauses, and his brow furrows. He looks to Simon, simultaneously confused and entirely too casual. “Said I could kiss you,” he repeats. “Why? S’that a problem?”

Simon’s gaze falls to the ground as he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not—that’s not—“

“Would you like me to kiss you?” John pushes, peeking up at Simon through thick lashes. Simon knows he’d give in immediately, if he were looking into those sapphire-blue eyes.

“I mean—“ Simon shrugs a shoulder. His blush has returned in full force, from the nape of his neck, to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears. “—I wouldn’t say no.”

“Okay,” John hums, like it’s nothing, before grabbing Simon’s face and doing exactly as promised.

It isn’t anything life changing, but it’s still—it’s still everything Simon could hope for, even here as a chill runs through him from the night’s cool temperature, even if their only sources of light are the moon and a flickering streetlamp.

John eventually pulls away first, delivering a hearty pat to Simon’s chest. “Now get me back to your flat and we can do that again, aye? It’s fuckin’ freezing out here.”

Simon can’t help the smile that appears on his face. His face tingles a little less now, though he’s sure it’s still stained a deep pink. “Sure, Johnny.”

And if they hold hands the entire way back—Simon will just claim it was for warmth.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

A dramatic overture - Bada Lee x reader

You were a bit of an unusual ballet dancer. To put it plainly, you were a bit of a fuckup sometimes. But wasn't everyone? Apparently not, according to your overbearing mother. And your choreographer, the infamous Bada Lee. How you landed in her troupe was a mystery.

Not only was she an insanely talented leader, she had been a phenomenal dancer beforehand. Other girls like Lusher and Tater flourished under her guidance. You, on the other hand still needed some work.

And that is exactly what you did. Day and night you practiced tirelessly. After all, ballet was an art, and weren't all the greats tortured and starving? You were eating still, the only pleasure you allowed yourself. The rest was wake up, go to dance, go home, and then repeat the cycle again and again. But your efforts paid off in the end.

And you had perfected your routine just in time for your audition. You were doing Swan Lake, a staple in the community for dancers and the audience as well. And of course, Bada wanted to put her twist on it. So at the end of the season there would be a special ''modern'' retelling of the plot, with all original choreography from her. You were excited. As stereotypical it was, you loved Swan Lake. It was the ballet that made you want to be a dancer in the first place. And Odile was your dream role ever since you were a child. So you tried to brush off your insecurity and worked for it.

You had been to the studio at such late hours that your parents started to suspect you had a boyfriend. You didn't have the heart to tell them that a boyfriend was the last thing they would ever have to worry about it. So you brushed it off and insted went in during your allocated dinner hours. And since you absolutely hated breakfast and really anthing early in the morning, you were down to one meal a day. It's not like you planned it and it wasn't affecting you that badly. At least thats what you thought at first. But by hour 4 of practice, you were exausted. You did a turn and felt your body go limp. You tried to break your fall in, but you still slammed to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Your fall must have been serious because Bada rushed in. You didn't even know she was in the studio then. You prepared fora lecture and her berating you on your stupidity and carelesness. But instead she let you lean on her and get to her office. There, you sat on a comfortable plush chair as she brought you a sports drink and an icepack. You were too tired to think about where her personal fridge was located and just how big it was. As your pain got lighter, you could focus more on what she was saying.

''And please, be careful. I see you work hard. But don't neglect yourself too much. The most important thing to focus on is your health. And as for the role, don't worry, there's plenty of roles, plenty of other shows.''

While she was right, you were stubborn. But you did not have a death wish, so you scaled back your practices by only 15 minutes, but it's the thought that counts. And also you started packing sandwiches. And little by little, it came time for auditions. Surprisingly, Odile was still popular, so you were up against the stars of your group. Still, they relied on their already existing talent and hadn't really bothered to memorize new techniques. And you had worked hard, building a completely new persona for your dancing. And that did not go unnoticed by Bada. So her decision was easy. Almost as easy as the way you cried tears of joy upon seeing the cast list. You had it. The role was yours. The pain was over.

Little did you know, the pain was just beginning. Now it was just a lot. while Odile was a background character most of the time, there was still her solo. And you dreaded it. Not only the dancing but also dancing with a man. It's not like you had anything against men. In fact, you were on good terms with most of the male members of the troupe. You just couldn't feel the necessary passion and attraction needed to dance with them. And you couldn't fake that love, even on stage for just a few minutes. But you managed. Bada had some minor critiques, which you corrected. And so the first cour of your performances began. Your choreographer had you do a limited summer run with the original production. Then, in the quieter ballet months you'd train again for her version of Swan Lake.

You were excited to play Odile twice. But little did you know, in Bada's version the cast would be all female. And you found out that last.

While you were on your last regular performance, she pulled you aside and told you there would be some changes to the cast list. She watched your face pale for a few seconds before adding that your spot would not change. And you swore she added a wink at the end, just to torment you.

Maybe it was worry. Maybe it was a stomach bug from all the supermarket sandwiches. But you were too sick to make it to rehearsal. You called your choreographer and almost tearfully apologized over and over again. Yet, Bada reassured you. Your role was not in the first acts anyway, so she'd focus on them now. But little did you know, she was simultaneously holding auditions. And she made sure to take down the new cast list before you return.

It was worth the hassle and the looks of bewilderment from the other dancers. Because she essentially saw you go through every stage of gay panic in the span of 5 minutes.

You walked in the studio, seeing her. She queued up the pas de deux music and walked over to the oposite side of the room. She stood on the blocking of your partner's position and motioned for you to take your place. When you were still frozen on your spot, she began explaining.

''We're in Bada's version now. And seeing how abysmall your chemistry was with the male leads, I made some changes.'' she said.

''If I was so bad, why didn't you say something. Why didn't you recast me.'' you questioned.

''You're a good dancer. And besides, it was just Swan Lake. I cannot be revolutional, I don't want to claim I can rewrite the story better. But making my cast all female of my own show, that's another thing. A modern retelling of a classic. With a strong message on how love isn't dictated by the gender binary. These tickets will sell like fresh bread.'' she explained

''And you're coming out of retirement to do this.'' you added, getting it now.

''Jackpot.''

''So you're doing this to get money.''

''I'm doing this for art. And to keep your fees from raising. Costume, set decor, rent on the studio, I'm guessing you don't want to pay that. Unless you do, then get in position.''

Her movements were so fluid. Additionally, she could lift you with ease. The thing is, every time she touched you, it felt like electricity was running through you. So you couldn't really focus and fumbled. Bada was a bit annoyed, but then she started over. Still, you were rattled. Why did this make you feel this way? Bada was attractive. But why would her appearance affect you so much? And now? So you continued to dance, pushing away the thoughts for some time. And it worked for a bit. You two managed to complete the routine. And did it again a few times again, to solidify it.

And then you did it perfectly. You would never use that word lightly, but it was true. It was a million times better than with your male partners. So you were confident that you would nail it.

''Okay, you have the energy now. Let's start learning the routine.'' Bada said.

You were confused. You knew your choreography, and you were wondering if there was a light misstep on your part. And then, Bada started a completely new dance. You wondered when she had the time to choreograph this. It was a completely different way of moving, looking more like a street style. You had never danced like this. But clearly, Bada had. She was so good, even better than with ballet. Was this on purpose? Or was it just her trying to showcase a skill? But why throw you under the bus? You could talk to her about it. Ask her to pull back on some moves, but still add that Bada flare. But you didn't do that. You just tried to copy her moves. You were a professional, so you could pick it up. And it's not like you picked up ballet in one go.

So you tried again. And again. And again. At first, Bada was guiding you very closely, being next to you, correcting your posture with her hands. After a few hours of that, she gets tired of this and sits down, just giving you oral feedback. That frustrated you. And the fact that she kept forcing you to practice over and over again. And at the end of the day, you were just tired and ended up just going home, with no progress on your end. The thing is, you tried again and again. You ended up having a sleepless night in order to get something done. And even though you were dancing like there was no tomorrow, there was little progress.

But you just kept at it. Rehearsing. Going home and dancing there. By the time you went to sleep, it was time to get up again. On days when you weren't training you'd just sleep and eat, calling it a day. You were becoming slovenly. Makeup and brushing your hair were becoming luxuries and so were laundry and showers. And the worst part is, you weren't improving. Street dancing was just not your thing. But it was everyone else's thing. Bada and the whole group could do it. Except you. You were the outcast again. And for no reason. It's not like you were bad at performing in your signature style. What pissed you off the most was surprisingly Bada. She was the incompetent one, not you. She couldn't lead you properly. You hoped she would help and you were called to her office at the end of the day. But instead, you got chewed up. Midway through her rant, someone stormed in, talking to her about a defaced poster and how it was going viral, but not in a good way. She excused herself and promised she'd be back soon. But 5 minutes past. Then 10. Then 15. And the whole time Bada's phone was buzzing with notifications. It was driving you insane. So you reached out to put it on silent mode. But something caught your eye. All the notifs were from a groupchat called TEAM BEBE and the picture was that of the troupe. So you looked at the messages and everyone was talking about you. Lusher, Tatter, even Cheche, they were all bad mouthing you. Making fun of you for the things, that were beyond your control. You had had enough so you just stormed out of there.

So you did the only thing you could think of. You dressed for revenge. First, you went to a salon to reverse the damage to your hair. Then you actually took time and booked a morning makeup session at the MAC counter, making sure to add a striking red lip. To top it all off, you decided to get some new clothes for the rehearsals. A few sexy and black pieces later, you had wiped out your salary. But none of that mattered.

While your transformation was already almost unbelievable, you knew it wasn't enough to shine to dazzle your so-called teammates. But the first person with a target on their back was Bada herself. After all, she was the one that got you into this mess in the first place. So you knew just how to make her regret it. But your plan wasn't exactly foolproof. And you were about to find that out.

First, you joined Bada in your usual practice room. It was surreal to see yourself reflected in so many mirrors while looking like this. You brushed it off. You began the routine and messed up horrendously, this time on purpose. You kept butchering it again and again until Bada stood up begrudgingly to help you. As soon as she got close enough, you pushed her back, watching her topple to the ground, her spine contorting into a graceful, sweeping curve. She was beautiful, even when falling. You wasted no time in straddling her waist, fully prepared to fight her. By then, she was fighting back too, trying to knee you, making you enclose your legs against her thigh. Bada pushes you back, but her hands meet your chest. And you fucking moan. She just raises an eyebrow and looks at you. Then she moves her hands to your hips, making you rock back and forth.

''If a good fuck is all you need to dance correctly, I'll give it to you princess,'' she said. You were about to protest, but she flexed her thigh and you were a goner. You let her take control completely. Bada made you grind your hips on her, to hump her leg like a horny pet. She snapped off the buttons of your leotard, so your bare pussy was rubbing against her. Your wetness was all over her black pants.

''Bada, I'm going to cum.'' with that your mentor bounced her leg up and down. You leaned towards her and kissed her as your orgasm took over you. She helped you ride it out and watched as you rolled over on the floor, panting and tired. Bada watched you for a minute and then said.

''Oh, my darling, I'm just getting started with you, so you better get up.''

Taglist: @withoctober

[wolven91]

Beers With The Fellas

"Hey guys, you coming round to mine tonight? Got a bunch of drinks in." Asked the human suddenly, surprising the work crew.

The rest of the crew looked up from where they were packing away their tools to the diminutive creature. The 'new' additions, that were the humans, were still finding their feet in the wider society despite it being over a year since their disastrous debut. It had to be admitted that they had taken to it rapidly now that they had given a proper opportunity.

That said, they often had odd ideas that left the other races scrabbling to react correctly.

The crew was a mixture of races, none of which really mixed outside of work. It wasn't that they specifically didn't like each other or had unfounded prejudices, it was just... not done? The various races had multiple clashes with one another. Everyone present hadn't been involved in the fighting or even knew someone involved, but it was s still a fact that their respective governments had a cold relation, if at all. The slender taurian, looked to the robust ursidain, who looked to the towering ssypno. When a new species joined the wider community, it was required, expected or demanded that they be given an opportunity to show how they can add to the community, how their culture reacted to others.

It was just good sense, a fresh set of eyes on established processes. Especially saying of just how much the galaxy had stagnated over the last few hundred years. There were rumours that nothing had changed, not even a new recipe in all that time. At least not until the humans showed up.

In the distant past, some races like the vulptanis had interesting technology to add, or others, like the esquinines, had an inspired governmental process. But the humans? Well, they had none of these overt boons.

But what they did have, was ideas. Odd ones, but every now and then a tiny change here or there had a ripple effect that confounded established processes down the line. Some good, some bad.

So, when the human was stood there, arms wide, a broad smile plastered over her face and offered the team to come to her domicile for 'drinks', the crew hesitated when they realised their first gut reaction was to say no. Afterall, you didn't invite practical strangers into your nest, den or home, colleagues or not it was done.

"Sure?" replied the taurian, always first to side with the human, even to his detriment. Male taurians were meant to know how to handle any social situation after all, it was why he oversaw managing the haphazard group.

The ursidain, a male who hadn't quite decided if he liked the tiny, stick thin creatures yet, rolled his eyes whilst facing away from the group, he'd wait, let the rest of them decide before throwing in his own choice with the popular choice. The ssypno clapped his hands together with a joyful look plastered across his face.

"I've never seen a human home before! Of course! Do you need me to bring anything?"

"Only if you want something specific to drink, a friend of mine works in logistics; a bunch of beer, or rather what was described as beer. The kegs got damaged and the snooty sluggat who they were for refused to accept them. They were paid for so he basically gave me a bunch as he needed the warehouse space, should be enough to tide you guys over and I made sure to have plenty of food in so-"

"What time?" Asked the ursidain, not intending to interrupt the human, but to be fair he'd need to go and get washed first. At the mention of food his head had whipped round, ears perked.

"Soon as you're ready, all I'm going to do when I get home is get changed. Apparently, the comet that flew by earlier today has a tail that'll give us a bit of a light show." She explained. It was as a good excuse as any, the ursidain would get to eat, the ssypno would get to satisfy his curiosity and the taurian would suffer through, but watch, monitor and learn what he could.

The team broke up and went their separate ways. It was barely a few hours later, that the trio of aliens met up with one another again as they navigated to the human's apartment. It was an interesting travel, the human's home was a secret, they were banned from revealing it and were escorted at one point by a squad of canids to ensure they weren't being followed. As the 'B' repair team, they were used to getting the crap jobs, the jobs the rest of the teams didn't want. So the fact they got an escort and were brought to a very nice hab-block with all the airs and graces that came with that life?

It stroked their egos ever so gently, endearing them to the human for this opportunity. No rich citizen would invite 'their kind' here normally. Not unless a toilet was broken.

Stepping up to the door, they scratched their claws down the metal plate to announce themselves and moments later their human colleague let them in with a smile and a flourish.

"Hey! Come on through, I rigged up an ice bath on the balcony so if you got anything that needs cooling down, you can stick it in there. Foods next to the doors too!" The female human finished with a chuckle, lightly elbowing the ursidain in the rotund belly. The giant brown bear grinned at his weight being acknowledged; he'd tried hard to ensure he kept up appearances, it was nice that someone other than a fellow ursidain finally paid him a compliment. To the ursidains, to be accused of getting thin was on par with the worst insult one could think of after all.

Stepping through the door, the home wasn't too far removed from the standard template, but the home itself had some odd styleistic choices. The ssypno made no effort to hide his curiosity, moving around, running his fingers over the counter tops. Everything was too small, but he loved the rugs that tied to room together, plus it was nice to have something other than the cold floors beneath him.

He shamelessly stole the idea of rugs everywhere for his own meagre home.

The whole team eventually settled on the balcony that overlooked 'The Great Glass Ceiling' that was the ceiling and sides of all the spinning circular station that residents this side of the station enjoyed for an unobstructed view of space. At first, conversation was hesitant, the nervousness of meeting co-workers outside of a work environment was alien, but with drinks and food available, eventually the walls came down. They settled into the banter they had during the day, realising that they were no different from who they were at work, just more relaxed.

The comet's 'tail' was a sight to behold as micro-meteors lashed the station's shielding creating a display of shooting stars that were hard to come by outside of specific planets. Even the shield added its own glowing display that coloured the darkened residential district.

What came from this evening was a noted high cohesion of the team by upper management and the taurian manager. All of a sudden, during work hours they were far more in sync with one another and became even more so over time. Their efficiency skyrocketed from a lower end of the average to being classed as 'ideal' by the station AI. Upper management, obviously wanted to recapture this lightning in a bottle. So began their plan to enforce 'team building exercises' for all workers outside of work hours. This initiative ended as a unmitigated disaster and almost universally hated when employed with the various other races.

The Administrator of the station instead decided to recreate the original environmental settings while instructing nearby stations to do the same and see what would happen. Several food and drink deliveries were 'refused' for various false reasons and marked as 'free to be taken'. The human, and other humans on other stations, time and again, took the opportunity to share their wealth with their colleagues. Each time the various races took part with these 'drinks with the guys/girls' there was a noted positive increase to their work-life interactions.

Mind bogglingly, they invited near strangers into their homes or to established bars to simply 'make friends' with any species, not just their own.

The social engineering of humans, seemingly unintentionally, was a boon to any workplace should they have access to what was needed, meaning free booze and food, and placed with staff that were openly welcoming to newcomers. It was quietly designed that this would happen should a human appear in a station and request work.

Humans were excruciatingly rare still, but if one enquired about any open positions, a role was created in rapid order where the 'recommended' settings of human friendly crew were available. Each time and every time, the overall productivity, morale and team cohesion increased once the human began making friends in their own strange alien way.

The various AIs of each station communicated with one another and simply made the conditions easier for these humans to work their magic. For the cost of a single delivery of consumables, these humans made work teams who were struggling into top notch employees.

[jazeswhbhaven]

From what I've been seeing it feels like PB is focusing on quantity over quality. Things like Obey Me, TWST, and Nu-Carnival has a sizeable group of characters, but they're not too huge so it allows them to flesh each one out to a certain extent, but then they can introduce a diverse set of cards on each of them so you're not starving too much.

WHB has not only has 6 Kings and one more on the way, but they also keep introducing more nobles and angels. In a way it's not bad, but this is why I seriously feel it is a case of quantity and not enough quality. From what I've seen in this community, characters that have been in the game since Day 1 are being super neglected. Then we a have every new L card released being paywalled, nightmare passes that also have the top rewards paywalled, are more frequent, even this time around the S+ card requires more gold keys and it doesn't have anything remotely special about it whereas the last S+ did which was extremely exclusive only. Honestly it's...really sad. Now you don't NEED these cards and I'm not asking for freebies, but in the end they are asking for your life savings for even just the decent stuff, and then you still have to deal with the gacha to do that.

I personally need a decent amount of characterization to really appreciate a character so I do appreciate the world building but no character has stuck with me yet. So everytime a new one is released I go: "Okay but what about like...the existing ones?" Our last one was Leraye, which I'm sorry, it's just a reskinned of his OG card and I found that really scummy which was probably why he was locked through achievements which...was the saving grace still it was the only time it happened. The story was nice though.

I don't want to come off as ungrateful and I probably am, but I just don't understand PB's decisions on what they're doing anymore. We can't use the "they're a small company" card, I'm sure they're not the only small company, but I don't have any sources, but so far this is the first time I seen company really just throw their community into a blender like this...then again I only played like 3 other gachas which isn't a lot.

💭

hey there 💭 anon!

This observation came right in time with how I'd like to pretty much introduce the game to new players that are flocking in.

PB's decisions as of late to change how we get currencies, paid banners, and the progression of the main story and character building has been a damn journey.

I don't think you're ungrateful, I wouldn't call anyone that honestly because as the consumer YOU are the the one, p2p or f2p, in the end that has be entertained by this nsfw game. The only one in existence that is catered to both women and men audiences. With that in mind, you'd expect to see something worth buying/taking up nearly 8gb of space on your phone for.

When the game was first teased, me and my friend were talking about it and she was overwhelmed by the amount of characters they kept showing, I met her through the Obey Me fandom, so that was our bread and butter for the majority of conversations. When I moved on to WHB, she didn't come with, she stayed for like maybe a week or two and dropped it. I forget mostly why which I could ask her again on her opinion.

But I'll let you in on something I saw the other day, the community over in LaDS has been having some issues with their banners/other gacha related things as well stating that this recent banner is driving players away. I don't play LaDS but PB isn't the only company it seems starting to switch things up when it comes to decisions.

The S+ cards confuse me because what they introduced was hey here's beach Rara (Raphael) and he has an adore mode, a story with mild spice, and you chats/more lore about this bitey boi. I had so much fun reading through that. Amy and Sitri's all we get are the likability things and well from the previous expectation? That made me shake my head. (also for the extra gold keys thing, apparently it's only that high if you want to get it early, the card is going into the banner immediately after the event so in theory we all literally could have waited to pull them so we wouldn't have to spend that amount of gold keys)

As far as content goes, I think ultimately there's too many characters to work with. If anyone on the staff has a brain like me, it would be very easy to neglect characters here and there. I also do not like that Gehenna has yet ANOTHER noble (sorry Amy) but other countries are lackin'.

Also unrelated...WHERE IS GEHENNA'S GROUP PHOTO U G H.

Niflheim needs one too.

All in all I hear you. Chapter 6 and Mammons/Amy's events though have me believing that the best has yet to come, these banners though....we will see... Maybe things will pop off when Asmodeus debuts..

[naminethewriter]

Monstrously Simple Days at College

Chapter One: Welcome Back

Masterpost | Next | Ao3

Story Summary: Humans and Monsters live together in harmony and that means they all get to go to college together. Roman, Remus, Janus, Virgil, Logan and Patton are big group of friends that may be a bit chaotic with all the different monster cultures they hail from. College itself is hard too, but with them all supporting each other, it can't be that bad, can it?

Content Warnings: None

~~*~~

“Remus, you ass, come down right now! You’re not going to get yourself in trouble five seconds after coming back to campus!”

Roman shields her eyes as she looks up at her brother, shaking out her own wings after the long flight back to college. Their second year was going to begin in only a few days and Remus is not going to ruin her reunion with her partners by being a dick and breaking the flight regulations immediately upon coming back.

Thankfully, it seems to have gotten the message as she watches them divebomb back to the ground, aiming directly for her.

“Don’t you dare, you stinking rat!” she screeches and takes off the ground herself, if only a few inches for the better mobility and reaction time she has in the air. Remus stops her fall only a short distance away from her and grins, his sharp teeth glinting in the sun.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I wasn’t going to actually hit you. Too many witnesses.”

“Ha ha,” Roman deadpans, setting her feet back on the ground. “Let’s just go to the dorms so I can pretend I don’t know you.”

Remus snorts.

“Too late for that, I think everyone on campus who isn’t a first year knows us by now.”

Roman chooses to ignore its comment. She is well aware that last year a few different events happened that made both her and her brother, as well as their group of friends rather well known.

“C’mon.”

She sets off, entering the campus grounds through the huge main gate, Remus close on her heels.

“It’s such bullshit that we can’t just fly on campus. Who the hell decided it was a good idea to enforce no-flight-zones anyway?”

“It’s for privacy and community, which you would know if you had paid any attention during orientation last year. I don’t want any randos to fly up to my windows either, so I completely understand why they forbid it on campus entirely. That and those drone things. They’re creepy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get why we’re not allowed to do it around the dorms, but we’re not at the dorms! We’re basically in a park!”

“Go ask your boyfriend, they know stuff like that!”

“My boyfriend isn’t here! And I can’t fly up to find him because of stupid regulations!”

“Too bad for you.”

Roman quickens her steps as her eyes lock onto the thing she’s been searching for after having spotted it during her landing earlier. A black parasol.

“Why the fuck are you in such a hurry?” Remus complains behind her, but she ignores them, instead weaving skillfully through the crowd to reach her partner.

“My dark and stormy thundercloud! Wait up!” she calls ahead and the parasol comes to a stop as the person holding it turns around. The vampire looks at them with tired, bright purple eyes. They yawn before answering.

“Hello prin—“ They cut themselves off, staring at the chains and jewels attached to Roman’s horns with a look of confusion. “—cess?” they finish, uncertain. It takes Roman a moment to figure out what happened.

“Oh! Yes, feminine day. Our uncle came by a few weeks after our birthday and gave me a bunch of horn-jewelry as a present. Apparently, grandma told him I was ‘developing an interest’ and he dug through his horde. He had no idea I was using them as pronoun indicators, but he said he knew a dragon a few centuries back that did the same thing! So, I seemed to have revived a trend without even knowing it!” Roman laughs and Virgil’s shoulders drop in relief.

“I see. I was really confused for a second ‘cause they didn’t trigger anything. And I felt bad assuming just because the jewels are pink that it’s for a feminine day.”

“I can’t deny that that’s part of why I choose it for feminine days, you’re good. I’ll have Logan cast the identifying spell on them as soon as possible so that you don’t get confused by the rest.” It is practical to have a witch for a friend, who can just enchant her jewelry so that people could tell what they indicated with only one look.

“Speaking of Logan, have you seen them yet?” Remus cuts in, suddenly leaning very close to Virgil’s face. Roman hadn’t seen it move and blinks in surprise, but Virgil doesn’t seem startled in any way and just pushes Remus away from them.

“No. I literally just got here myself.”

“An amateur mistake. I arrived here yesterday. It was a lot quieter then,” a smug voice comments to the right of them. Roman turns to see her other partner Janus standing a few feet away, smiling self-satisfactorily at the group.

“What a blessed day to have my eyes fall onto my partners so quickly!” Roman exclaims delightedly and pulls Janus in for a hug. He is more open to public displays of affection than Virgil, who prefers cuddles on the couch.

“Everyone who sees me should consider themselves blessed,” Janus jokes and Virgil rolls their eyes at him.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that, kitty.”

Janus playfully hisses at them and they hiss back, before Remus, again, suddenly inserts herself back into the conversation.

“If you’ve been here a while, have you seen Logan yet?” he asks again, pouting.

“Maybe,” Janus grins. “I won’t tell you for free.”

“No riddles already!” Roman groans. “At least wait a few hours until you try to start your games.”

“I’m a sphynx, Roman. It’s what I do.”

“Yeah, but I’m tired from the flight and I wanna spend some time with my partners. Without my brother. I’ve seen it enough all summer,” she whines.

“I don’t wanna see your face anymore either,” Remus bites back.

“Aren’t you rooming together again?” Virgil asks and both dragons glare at them. They scoff but don’t comment further. As an only child, they never got their ‘brotherly bond’, and they had learned not to question it.

“Anyway!” Remus declares loudly. “I just wanna know where my—” It stops speaking mid-sentence, their head snapping to the side at a concerning angle and her nose twitching. He stands still for two seconds before suddenly sprinting into the crowd of students around them. The other three look after him in confusion.

“Ah,” Virgil says after a moment. “I think I see the tip of Logan’s hat.”

“Like a loyal puppy running after their owner,” Janus huffs and Roman elbows him lightly in the side.

“That’s not something you can make fun of her for. He hasn’t seen Logan almost the entire break, I would’ve been a mess if I hadn’t been able to see either of you for that long.”

Janus raises his hands in defeat.

“Fine. I won’t comment further.”

“Thank you,” Roman smiles and presses a kiss against his cheek. Janus turns his head away to hide his blush, causing Virgil to snort. Before Janus could retaliate however, a new voice carries over to them.

“Hey, kiddos!”

Looking towards the direction of the gate, they could see a pair of blonde ears peak out from between the sea of students and moments later, Patton has made his way over to them.

“It’s so good to see everyone!” he laughs, his tail wagging excitedly. “I missed you all so much!”

“Pat, I saw you last week,” Virgil comments, a fond expression on their face.

“Exactly! A whole week without seeing any of my kiddos is a long time!”

“Well, we’re all together now, padre. And we have a whole semester to have new adventures together!” Roman laughs and pulls him into a hug he gladly accepts.

“I’m looking forward to it! But where’s Lo and Remus? You said everyone’s here, but I don’t see them.”

“Oh, they’re over there somewhere,” Roman points behind her to where Remus had disappeared minutes earlier. “I think they need a moment alone since they haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“I see. Yeah, Logan had a lot of rituals and such to attend, right? I haven’t been able to meet up with them either.”

“I think he said something about planet alignments at the end of the semester and that’s why his coven had a lot of stuff going on,” Virgil adds.

“The positions of the planets do subtly influence the energy of the cosmos at all times, so I’m not surprised that a certain combination of placements would cause a bunch of witches to have a month-long spell fest,” Janus nods as well.

“Thank you for your contribution, oh wise one,” Virgil teases and Janus, seemingly having had enough from their continues comments, walks over to them and simply gives them a quick kiss. As he pulls away, Virgil’s cheeks have a purple tint, showing their embarrassment.

“You’re not the only one who can tease people, darling,” Janus purrs. Virgil half-heartedly hisses at him before hiding their face in the high collar of their cloak. Thankfully for them, Janus doesn’t get a chance to continue his teasing as Logan finally appears out of the crowd. Remus is with them, its arms wrapped around their midsection and firmly pressed to their back. It doesn’t look like they are willing to let go any time soon.

“Salutations everyone. I hope you all had a restful break.”

“Logan!” Patton exclaims happily and moves towards him for a hug but Roman quickly grabs his arm to stop him in the same moment that Remus lets out a growl from his position behind Logan and a small flame shoots out of her mouth.

“It would be best not to get too close to them at the moment, padre,” Roman advises, her hand patting his back in reassurance so that his ears don’t remain pressed to his head. “Remus is probably going to be a bit territorial with Logan for at least the next few hours since they haven’t seen each other in so long.”

Patton looks confused for a moment longer before his expression brightens and he exclaims, “Oh! Because Logan’s his ‘treasure’, right?”

“Exactly. Good memory, Pat.”

“Thanks! But why aren’t you the same way with Verge and Jan then? They’re your ‘treasure’, aren’t they?”

“They are. But I’ve also met up with them several times over the break. And if we couldn’t see each other in person, we texted and stuff.”

“It was very frustrating to be involved in an ever-elongating process of rituals and have my contact with the outside world limited,” Logan huffs, one of his hands continuously patting Remus’ arms around him to calm them from its sudden burst of protectiveness. “I understand the necessity of the procedures since a lot of the spells will not be able to be cast again for centuries, but it was a strenuous process that only ended five days ago. I went to bed afterwards and slept for three days, packed my things yesterday and arrived here earlier this morning.”

“Well, I’m glad you got to have at least some rest,” Patton smiles, and Logan nods to him gratefully.

“Speaking of rest, my arm’s getting tired from holding this parasol and I want to get out of the sun. It’s starting to give me a headache,” Virgil complains.

“Then let us be off to the dorms!” Roman links her arms with Virgil and Janus’ and starts dragging them off.

“Uh, that looks fun, can I join?” Patton giggles and hooks his arm to Janus’ free one when he offers.

“Want to join them or look for a quiet spot?” Logan asks Remus quietly, leaning their head back to see its face. Remus takes a moment to consider, watching his brother and their friends.

“As much as everything in me is screaming to keep you to myself right now, I can’t let Ro-bro get to our room alone. She’s going to start decorating everything and it’s going to piss me off and then we’re going to fight about it and I actually don’t want to get into trouble with the dorm manager on our first day. You’re already settled though, right?”

“Yes, meus, I am. I’m going to stay with you for the rest of the day.”

“Good.” Remus buries his head in Logan’s shoulder and tightens her grip on their midsection for a moment before pulling away a bit and grabbing their hand. “Let’s go before Ro gets it in her head that she can decide which side of the room she’s gonna get.”

~~*~~

Here art the character designs!

Drawn by @prince-rowan-of-the-forest, the link to their post is included in the Masterpost linked above!

Also, fun fact! Roman and Remus might both not identify as male, they agreed that they are each others brother at all times. So despite it being a feminine day for Roman, she is still Remus' brother 💖 💚

[powergayser]

"home"

personal essay on ideas of home from a diaspora desi living in the U.S.

while reading “white spaces and brown traveling bodies: a project of re-working otherness” by roksana badruddoja, i began thinking of ideas of home, and what they mean to me. a portion of this paper, published in 2006, focuses on “home,” and what it means to various south asian women. the paper also discusses race and ethnicity within the context of the united states, and how these desi women are situated within it. i myself have done lots of thinking and writing on these subjects, but i have never fleshed out my ideas of “home.” 

there are many unique struggles and situations that come with growing up in a diaspora. my parents are from india. i was born in ohio. i have lived in ohio my entire life. i have gone to india many times with my mother to visit her family. my father’s family moved to america when he was eight years old, and they still live here. 

throughout my life, i have constantly been asked, “where are you from?”

people are curious. they see me, they see that i am not white, but i am also not black. in america, race is constructed on a black-white binary. those of us who exist outside of the binary have a difficult time situating ourselves within this country. others have a difficult time figuring out where to place us as well, hence the age old question, where are you from?

this question seems so innocent, but it is loaded with racism, otherness, and the idea that we do not belong here. 

when i am in a good mood, i will say that i was born in ohio, but my parents are from india. if i am not, then i simply say “ohio,” and hope that they will leave it. but sometimes, i am asked, “but where are you really from?”

what they want to know is my ethnicity, but they don’t have a way to ask that question. in these situations, i usually turn the question back around, or i flat-out say that this is ridiculous. 

perhaps this is why the idea of “home” has always confused me. from a young age, the white children and adults around me insisted that i could not be american like them, that i was something else, and i did not belong here. eventually, i stopped saying i was american. it is not a label i feel a connection to, and apparently i do not get to decide what i am, so i stopped using it to appease those around me. 

as a child, i mainly listened to bollywood, watched indian films, and hung out with my local indian community outside of school. i went to a predominantly white private school, and i did not connect very well with the children there. my mother also did not connect with any of the parents, so i rarely spent time with people at school outside of school. i did not participate in american culture very much, and did not consume american media outside of disney channel and cartoons. people made fun of me for this, or they acted as though i had committed some grave sin by not listening to taylor swift (i still wouldn’t listen to her if you paid me a million dollars). to this day, there are still many iconic pieces of american media that i have not consumed, and it still stings when people go “really? you haven’t seen that?” 

my local indian community didn’t help with this. the majority of the kids i spent time with primarily consumed american media, and had very little interest in film and music of india. 

i’m also neurodivergent, and i ended up being transgender and queer as well. as i got older, i began to drift from the indian community. i no longer keep up with any of the children i grew up with. i fear that i am too different now. most of them are pursuing careers as doctors and engineers, and i’m struggling to finish college and get my humanities degree. 

alienation was something i felt everywhere: at school, with my family, and in my indian community. i never had a solid group of friends, i never had “my people,” and i could not find my way in the world i inhabited. as an adult who moved out of his parents’ house, it has become easier, but not by much.

when i went to india in december, and informed my partner that i had arrived at my family’s house, she said “welcome home.” 

what is “home?” where is “home?” is it a tangible place that i can exist in? is it a person? or more of an abstract concept? 

in india, perhaps i do feel more at “home.” i am surrounded by a family that loves me, despite not quite understanding me and my ways (they still don’t know i’m not cisgendered anymore, and i am too afraid to tell them). i am surrounded by people who look like me. they aren’t disgusted with me for using my hands to eat. they do not question my love for indian film and music– if anything, they are delighted that i care. they do not ask me, “where are you from?” 

india feels good. but india is not home. there are so many things i love about india, but it is not home, it is a vacation. it is a trip i make with my mother, because my grandmother was bound to the house for the last 20 years of her life, and we used to go to see her. in india, i do not have a schedule, i do not have responsibilities, there is nothing for me to do there but relax, read books, and play games. 

i get bored after a while. i get restless. i become depressed and anxious. there are parts of myself that i cannot share with my family. i cannot go anywhere by myself in india. i do not know enough hindi, telugu, or marathi to get around. if i speak english, with my strange midwest-american accent, it will give me away. i do my best to keep my mouth shut when we are going around the markets and sari shops. 

these days, i see many desis online commenting on the way diaspora desis live. they claim that we are not one of them. we stumble over our words trying to speak our parents’ languages. we don’t always enjoy foods that are traditional in our cultures. we dress differently. we participate in the culture of where we grew up, rather than the culture of south asia. and so, desis from south asia like to say that we are “whitewashed,” that we have forgotten our roots, that this is a decision that we made. it’s not like there is pressure to follow the hegemonic culture and internalize it. it’s not like there are consequences when you don’t follow it. no, no one ever made fun of me for bringing indian food to school, or wearing bindis, or bangles, or my traditional clothing. 

it’s not like i, a diaspora desi living in america, have ever had any struggles at all regarding my identity as the child of immigrants and my place in american society. 

we did not ask to be born here. we did not ask to be born at all. 

america is not home, india is not home, and the shitty townhouse i moved into with my ex is not home, either. what is home? where is it? 

will i ever find it? 

[gacha-incels]

apparently an incel paid to truck protest Genshin Impact because their little flaccid group wants every Korean woman fired from her job. I’m not sure how this will go down since even after attempting to slander her in multiple international communities Mihoyo hasn’t acknowledged them. The artist’s identity was only revealed though illegal leaked documents so they can’t report her without revealing they have seen these illegal documents. They don’t like her 2 tweets where essentially she expressed annoyance about being stalked by a male and said she didn’t like when males make noise when they eat. That’s literally it. This incel put the 🤏 on the first sign which is a stupid as fuck thing to shit your pants over…but that wasn’t even something she used. On the other hand, these incels who tried even reporting her to the Chinese government have said they hope she gets deported to North Korea and has to have a forced abortion. There’s a lot of even nastier stuff that I’ve seen that I don’t even want to write out…They are truly sick and twisted men who are used to Korean companies bowing to their pressure on extremely ridiculous things. I don’t think the truck has gone out yet so I guess you could call this a new developing story in this stupid ass saga. The most recent Korean incel pants shitting event was their hatred of the character Lyney, they mass downvoted his character trailer and had tantrums online. This did nothing except make them look like pathetic babies. screenshots from this tweet

https://twitter.com/guiltyarchive/status/1730946127099490796

[everythingsinred]

Family and the Institution of Alice Academy

Was thinking about this ever since someone (I forgot specifically who, sorry) posed a question like this in the GA discord, asking about (I think) Natsume's extended family or something like that. It was a really interesting concept that I've been thinking a lot about since it was brought up, so here are the thoughts I've accumulated. I'll try to be concise but I have a LOT of thoughts and my brain is messy.

My general opinion at the end of all this thinking I did is that I don't think Academy students typically have very close familial ties after graduating.

I think the most apparent reason for that would be that students are expected to graduate when they are twenty years old. Our main four are exceptions to the rule, coming to the Academy pretty late in life. Most children are taken early, as toddlers or even babies. Natsume, Ruka, and Hotaru's families did all they could to avoid Academy scouting. Mikan was entirely accidental--if she had never met Hotaru, she might have never even found out she was an Alice to begin with. That being said, most kids were separated from their families at a very young age, only to be allowed to reunite with them once they're already adults. For many students, they've been away from their parents for close to two decades.

On top of that, the Academy doesn't allow visitations or phone calls and severely restricts letter communications. Only one child from each class is allowed to return home for one week each year, and that one week does not do much to make up for all the time spent at school.

My point is that by the time students are allowed to see their families again, that familial bond has already been severed, for all intents and purposes. That feeling of closeness and protection no longer exists. Students will feel more closeness and connection to their classmates and even to their teachers than to their parents or siblings, and as a result, I can imagine many graduates not even bothering to visit their families.

While I was pondering this, I made the connection between Academy students and the real life example of a similar situation with Janissaries from the Ottoman Empire. Basically, Janissaries were children stolen from the subjugated people under Ottoman rule. They were taken for the purpose of a "child levy", also known as a "blood tax." Some children were even willingly given by their families due to the possibility of socially advancing, and because the children were promised first class status (sound familiar?). Essentially the children were taken, forced to comply with Ottoman standards and traditions (including forced conversions and circumcisions), and then trained for military service. These soldiers would actually end up being incredibly loyal and efficient, despite likely never seeing their families again.

(Edit: forced circumcisions are particularly heinous when you consider that the children were typically at least 10 years old at the time they were taken.... so.... uh.... not pleasant.... But also interesting that the Janissaries were typically much older than the Alice children at the time of being taken.)

That level of separation doesn't endear ties; it severs them. These Janissaries--very often forcefully taken from their families--ended up growing up with very little connection to their parents or siblings. The feeling of belonging to their previous communities was gone. Absence does not always make the heart grow fonder. This was done as a means of creating a strong military force but also to disillusion subjugated communities and tear away their hope. Their children could always be taken; their communities could always be crushed, even without the use of physical force. It's a very effective tool to oppress a group of people.

(There's actually a lot of similarities between Academy children and Janissaries beside the separation of children from their families. They were also paid for their service and were high ranking; the Academy students are given an allowance and many of them, despite being stolen from their families, have a sense of superiority over non-Alices. They feel like they are treasures, and are of higher value and rank. Additionally, Academy students, especially in the DA class, are highly trained and efficient child soldiers, much like the Janissaries. Janissaries are actually a super interesting historical topic and are worth looking into!)

We can even see the effect of this distance when Yuka escapes the Academy and runs away to her family. Yuka was essentially sold to the Academy, with her parents trading her in exchange for money and status. She was very young, far too young to really understand that her parents had abandoned her. As a result, she romanticized her bond with them, and the longer she was separated from them, the more that bond became fantastical. She made many attempts to escape the school to reunite with her parents and she fantasized about seeing them again. When she finally is able to, it's nothing like she imagined. They're cold, and unfamiliar. They don't recognize her. She doesn't know her brothers. They're related, but there's no real connection.

"I shouldn't have come here."

Yuka's is an extreme example, but I'm sure she's not an exception. For most Academy students, the almost 20 years of separation from their parents would be too much to ignore. They would not recognize each other, or be close. I'm sure many parents did not sell their children like Yuka's family did, but the bond between child and family had not been nurtured the way it should have been, resulting in coldness and distance.

Because of that, I doubt most students even bother seeking their families out, or even if they do, it's to visit a few times before starting a new life with a career. That familial bond, now broken, is difficult to repair. The connections people often feel with their families or hometowns is something Academy students instead feel with each other. They are all Alices, all in the same boat together. That feeling of superiority that many kids feel means they view each other as on the same level, and I'm sure that could interfere with family connection as well.

Thus, I don't think there's many multigenerational Alice families out there with close bonds. I don't think families like Natsume's have strong ties with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. Even the sibling bonds at the Academy are stunted, with the Imai and Shouda siblings being the prime examples of that.

The Imai siblings have a significant age difference, yes, but additionally the Imai parents had a very different approach to Hotaru after seeing what happened with Subaru. They refused to hand her over as easily, wanting to show her important things in life and build happy memories for as long as they could. Even when Hotaru does enter the school, it's more than six months before she even comes across her brother, since the high school and elementary school are not integrated with each other and they do not belong to the same ability class. Similarly, the Shouda siblings are in different ability classes but they have a much smaller age gap. Despite this, Sumire refers to her brother very respectfully, indicating that there isn't a particular closeness.

The Imais fight against this divide, and put in genuine effort into rebuilding their relationship, but it's a difficult process, and one they struggle to admit to for a long time and for various reasons. Familial closeness is not encouraged, not even within the Academy.

(Though Natsume's bond with Aoi is exploited and the school does rely on him caring for her to take advantage of him, but ultimately he is kept from seeing her. Thus, that bond is also severed despite being exploited.)

Additionally, it would make sense to me if many Alice graduates decided to, upon having children, avoid scouting, like Natsume's parents did, and thus ended up moving around a lot to escape Academy notice. Moving around like that and laying low means that you're not going to be hosting huge family reunions or inviting relatives over often, even if all the other points were moot.

Finally, I think all this creates further obstacles for Yuka's wish to "have a family." At some point she says that, for normal people, the desire to settle down with someone and start a family is a pretty modest goal, but for Alices it's almost impossible. Escaping from the school, or even graduating, is a struggle. And you can have a kid, but it's likely that child will be taken from you, just as you were taken, and by the time the child graduates, they will have no connection with you. Wanting to be a potential grandparent, for example, might seem like a definite impossibility, since being a real parent is impossible.

It's even more proof that the Academy exists as an institution to subjugate and undermine Alices, as children and then as parents. Ultimately, an Alice never has control, not as a child and not even as an adult. The pain doesn't end once you've graduated; in fact, it never does.