#And decides to make it everyone's problem

[manicmanuscription]

Unapologetically Selfish

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, fluff, gaslighting(?) not proofread bc author is lazy

Word Count: 10599

Summary: When both of your jobs have your time with each other limited, Azriel makes the decision to keep you all to himself. Content to let his family think he'd finally lost his mind but an accidental meeting has the IC realizing Azriel truly does have a secret mate.

─── ♡ ───

Cassian was…concerned, to say the least. 

He fully believed Azriel was loosing his god damned mind and with each passing day this assumption only worsened. 

It all started three years ago, Azriel becoming almost scarce from time to time. With no explanation other than vague answers. It didn’t happen a lot and Cassian respected his brother needed his space some time, it wasn’t unusual for the Spymaster to slink off in the shadows. But then after a year his disappearance’s become nearly constant. 

Cassian and Rhysand finally cornered their brother after they demanded he show up for a monthly family dinner, the whole inner circle was getting concerned and decided that the two Illyrians were the best equipped to deal with this. 

Azriel had blankly looked at his brothers a small furrow in his brow as he sat through their interrogation. He hadn’t even realized he had been gone that much to be frank. Just… after meeting you? He wanted to spend every second of the day by your side, the mating bond simply not enough for how deeply he felt for you. 

After realizing the worry he was causing his family he pursed his lips and quite reluctantly told his brothers that he had found his mate. 

The look on the High Lord and General of the Night Court was absolutely priceless, their mouths hanging open as a stunned expression took over their usually stoic faces. 

Not even five minutes later the whole family knew, everyone pestering him for information like when they would get to meet you, what your name was, what did you do, how did you meet, where have you been this entire time. 

“Wait!” Feyre said as Mor had opened another bottle of wine and started excitedly pouring everyone a glass. “Is that why you asked Rhysand for a few months off?” 

The whole Inner Circle froze at Azriel’s simple nod. They all knew the implications of what that meant and Cassian was the first to speak. “You had a mating ceremony and none of us knew?” His voice thick with emotion. 

Azriel struggled with his next words. His heart a lump in his throat. He was never a talkative male, especially not about his feelings. 

“I-“ 

The truth was he was an incredibly selfish bastard. Of course he wanted his family to meet you, you were the most radiant person he ever had the pleasure of breathing next to and that was precisely the problem. He wanted you all to himself. 

“I’m sorry.” He said clearing his throat. “Would you like to meet her?” The house erupted with enthusiastic yes’s as his words seemed to smooth over the transgression. 

Eight months after that conversation, and after 6 canceled dinners 2 rescheduled lunches and just a straight up no show for drinks, The Night Court decided Azriel was…delusional. 

Of course they came to this conclusion delicately and most definitely amongst themselves after long and heated conversations.

Once again Rhysand and Cassian were sent to talk with the elusive spymaster and why he would make up such a lie. 

Azriel just refused their nonsense once again. He had told them the truth and it was their fault they didn’t believe it. He had barely seen you these last couple months as you had been working on the Continent and he had other tasks assigned to him. He told his brothers this and they just gave each other a look, one he simply ignored. 

Soon…the teasing started. Once the Inner Circle realized Azriel was doubling down on his ‘delusions’ Cassian promptly started joking about the fake wife and mate Azriel had. A few offhand comments here and there that become more and more frequent, of course Nesta and the rest of their family told him to shut up, but for Cassian it came from a place of love. 

He had tried talking to his brother, tried helping him through this. Cassian’s mind spinning, he truly thought Azriel had finally cracked, that his dearest brother was so alone he had made up an imaginary mate just to prove something. 

So his teasing was his last ditch effort, the final playing card to hopefully get Azriel to just admit he lied, than Cassian would take him out for drinks and be his shoulder to cry on for whatever issue that was obviously going on. 

Except it didn’t work. Azriel just grew more and more distant, if he wasn’t working he was simply…elsewhere. The last time Azriel ever made an effort to be around his family was when he suddenly up and decided to move out of the House of Wind, throwing a small house party for a beautiful cottage he purchased along the coast. 

Rhysand had to force Azriel to come to family dinners, in which sometimes the Spymaster simply never showed up and when he did his mind seemed distant and detached. 

Everyone was getting increasingly worried, especially Cassian. Azriel was incredibly important to him and although Cassian would never admit this, he felt responsible for him. Sometimes his brother didn’t know how to take care of himself, especially emotionally and whenever that happened The General had always been there, happily helping him whenever he could, making sure his heart and mind were protected, fighting off Azriel’s demons when he couldn’t do it himself. 

And he had never seen his brother so…aloof, distant and he had never thought his mental health would have gotten so bad he had made up a mate. So finally, Cassian and Rhys decided it was time for an intervention. 

———

Azriel.. for the life of him could not wait for his brothers to get out of his house. 

He loved them dearly and he knew he had been acting stranger and stranger these last few years, he knew his family thought he was certifiably insane and that great Shadowsinger of the fearsome Night Court had finally snapped and of course he cared, he knew that his actions had his brothers spinning and Nesta’s newly revealed pregnancy didn’t help Cassian’s grey hairs, and he had tried countless times to explain to them that he wasn’t insane, that you were real and beautiful and had utterly and completely captured his heart. 

But without the proof, his brothers simply didn’t believe him. Azriel wanted you to meet his family, gods did he want you too. But his time with you was becoming more and more rare. 

If you weren’t on the Continent you were with Thesan and if you weren’t with Thesan you were with Helion, leading all sorts of medical discoveries he simply could not comprehend no matter how hard he tried, this new medical project you were taking on meant that he hadn’t seen you in months, his body and heart ached for you and he truly had never felt such longing in his life. His brother’s insisting that he was insane certainly wasn’t helping his heartache.  

“I…” Cassian swallowed. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore Az.” He whispered finally and Azriel truly felt the guilt he had been burying down hit him as if he had been struck at the look on his brother’s face. 

He opened his mouth to say something but ultimately couldn’t find the words as Cassian left his home office, his footsteps echoing the utter doom and gloom he felt not only at your disappearance but at the raging guilt he felt for putting everyone in this situation in the first place. 

“Please…Just talk to us Az-“ Rhys started but he put his hand up. “Just, Go..please, we can talk about this later.” Azriel pleaded and Rhysand must’ve seen the look on his face so he pursed his lips and followed the General out of his brother’s home. 

———

You couldn’t wait to get home not only to the house you’d built together but to your mate. Every fiber of your being ached for him, and it physically hurt to be away from him for so long. 

So finally you had announced to your team and your dearest friend Thesan you were taking a well deserved break and decided to surprise your mate. 

You desperately needed to see him, hold him, breathe him in. Your soul was raging for the distance to finally be closed and so you planned a surprise trip, so you shut off the bond to him, which had sent him into a wild panic but you soothed it temporarily saying you were busy and needed to focus. But really you knew you couldn’t hide the excitement at finally arriving home, your chest was alight with nerves as you opened the door to your house, your fingers nervously playing with your hair as you couldn’t stop the giddy smile from erupting across your face. 

This was space was yours. For the first time you had not just a house but a home, and a lot of your tension eased at finally stepping into the carefully curated space you and Azriel had created. You could smell him everywhere, and it insantly made your frayed nerves ease, your body already relaxing at just finally being home.

It had been six long months without touching him, seeing him, with only fleeting reassurance and love sent down the bond and you needed him. Now. 

You were so excited you didn’t see the tall and bulky Illyrian warrior standing in your hallway staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. You crashed into a hard wall of muscle in your haste to get to your mate and immediately pulled back. 

“Your…not Azriel.” You stated, looking him up and down with a small frown etched on your face, something primal recoiling at the thought of another male in your house.

“Neither are you?” The male stated his voice with a slight edge, eyes wary as he looked you up and down, as if you were a threat. His fingers twitching and you immediately pulled away from him noticing his dangerous expression. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here? I think the question is what the hell are you doing in my house.” You asked stepping another few paces away from him but still crossing your arms over your chest as you looked him up and down. He wore red siphons on his hands and his long brown hair had a few greys all tied together in a low bun. Cassian, then you assumed.

“Wait..I’m sorry what?” The male sputtered, his vicious stance immediately softening into one of shock. You didn’t notice the High Lord standing behind him with an equal look of surprise as their brains finally processed the information. Their brother hadn’t cracked, he had been telling the truth about all of it. The traveling, the courtship, that he was in fact married and mated. 

Shadows twisted in the corner before scurrying off down the hall and in just a few seconds you were being tugged into a warm chest and spun around as scarred hands possessively held your waist. You giggled at the touch, the bond in your chest thrummed with light as peace finally settled in your bones. Home you were finally home. He set you down and you leaned up pulling his face close to yours as you peppered him with kisses. Gods you had missed him so much. He smiled softly at your touch shadows almost completely engulfing you as they too missed you. 

“Hey, Hello? We’re still here.” Cassian snapped his fingers to get your attention and Azriel growled darkly at the intrusion. You had been gone for six months you were his not his family’s. It wasn’t just a want that made him grip you even tighter at the thought of his family taking away your time with their endless interrogation no, no it was a need that thrummed throughout the fiber of his being. He needed to mark you up and hold you close and worship every single inch of skin on your body. He needed to completely immerse himself into you. 

Rhysand must have seen the look on his face or heard something in his mind because he gently gripped Cassian’s shoulders. “If you neither of you show up to breakfast tomorrow we will hunt you down or simply show up here.” It was said in a playful tone but Azriel understood the threat behind it, he was going to have to finally introduce you whether he liked it or not and with a simple wave of agreement from Azriel the two males winnowed away and he pressed himself further against you. Breathing in your scent all his stress and worry melting away as he did. The bond had been pulled so taut with the distance it had ached with the worst pain possible. 

“I missed you.” You breathed out softly, he grunted in agreement. “Let me take you far away from here and show you how much I missed you.” He whispered as he pressed soft kisses down the side of your neck, you giggled and his heart beat faster at the noise. “You are not getting of that easy again Spymaster.” You spoke with another laugh. His hands tightened even further on your hips with frustration, one of them sliding up to tangle in your hair as he kissed you, his tongue sliding in your lips claiming your’s with a deep desire that settled in his bones. You’d leave again soon and now he’d have to share your limited time with someone else. He tugged at your bottom lip possessively at the thought and lifted you in his arms your legs straddling as his waist as he walked you to your bedroom to show you exactly how much you were his. 

————— 

The Inner Circle anxiously awaited The General and High Lord’s arrival, waiting on any news of Azriel’s mental health when they finally winnowed in. Shocked grins overtaking their expressions. There was a beat of silence before Cassian spoke up. “You’ll never guess what the actual fuck just happened.” 

[a-really-weird-cat]

Hi god from bible

I have been given free will and I have decided to make that everyone's problem.

hi! i’m god. from bible. why are you doing that

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 1

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Tags: Intro, bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader

Summery: Meeting your new bodyguards doesn't go as smoothly as everyone hoped..

‘I don’t need a group of bodyguards,’ you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Your manager Yoona doesn’t even look at you anymore and you fight the urge to stamp your feet like a little child to get her attention. You won’t stoop that low though, so instead you place your hands on your hips and glare at the woman who’s been by your side since you debuted about two years ago. 

‘We’re not having this discussion again, y/n,’ Yoona says, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen. ‘Your popularity is growing by the day, you’ve received multiple death threats in the last few months and in case you forgot, last week someone tried to break into your home.’ 

Your shoulders deflate and your hands fall down beside your body. You can’t really argue with that, but you’ve grown so accustomed to having Faris at your side as your one and only bodyguard, that the thought of eight men taking his place makes you shiver. Who the hell needed eight freaking bodyguards? You weren’t a princess for fuck’s sake. 

Yoona finally looks at you then. ‘It’s very important to us to keep you safe, darling. I know it will be an adjustment, but you’ll get used to it.’ 

‘But eight?’ you argue, trying once more. ‘Do I really need eight men following my every move?’ 

‘That’s why we’re placing some of them around you with other jobs as well, kind of like undercover bodyguards,’ Yoona smiles at you like that makes it any better. 

You slump down in the chair across from Yoona and frown at her. What could bodyguards possibly go undercover as in your team? Woman, sure, no problem, but a muscled man? They’d stand out immediately. 

‘What do you mean?’ you ask carefully, not sure if you even want to know. 

‘They all have multiple skill sets, but we decided on adding three of them as your dancers and one will probably step in as a personal assistant of sorts,’ Yoona explains, her eyes once more on her phone screen. 

‘Why?’ you blurt out. ‘I don’t even need new dancers? We’re not firing anyone are we?’ 

You were perfectly happy with your team as it was and it would kill you to let any of them go because Yoona decided you needed eight freaking men to watch you. 

Yoona sighed and put down her phone. ‘We’re not firing anyone, but Dohyun is still recovering from his injury and Ju-won has asked for a few months off to visit his family. As for why, it will allow them to be around you more casually.’ 

Damnit. That actually made sense. 

‘And you’re sure they can dance?’ you ask, already knowing the answer. Yoona would never suggest something like this if they couldn’t. 

‘Yes, y/n, they can dance. I think you’ll be impressed actually.’ 

That makes you curious. Yoona isn’t easily impressed, so if she thinks you’ll approve, they must be good. Maybe you should give them a chance, or just be such a brat they run away screaming. 

‘Fine,’ you sigh. ‘When will I meet them?’ 

Yoona looks at her watch and your eyes widen at the movement. She wouldn’t do this to you, would she? 

‘They’ll be here in an hour to meet you,’ Yoona says and you let out a relieved breath. ‘You better be back here by then or I will let one of them drag you here by your ear.’ 

‘Bossy much,’ you whisper, but you don’t really mean it. You luckily have a very good relationship with your manager and even though she drives you up a wall sometimes, you know she has your best interest at heart. 

Yoona rolls her eyes at you and waves her hand at the door. ‘Go be bratty somewhere else, I’ll see you in an hour.’ 

You bark out a laugh and jump up from the chair. ‘As you wish, my Queen,’ you say, doing a little courtesy. 

Your current bodyguard Faris is waiting for you in the hallway, a smile on his handsome face as he spots you. 

‘Good talk?’ he asks, following one step behind you. 

‘You knew about this, didn’t you?’ you ask, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

‘I’m the one who recommended them actually,’ Faris says and only his quick reflexes stop him from walking straight into your back as you stop walking immediately at his words. 

‘What?’ you turn around to frown at him. ‘Why would you do that to me?’ 

Faris raises his eyebrows and stares down at you with a knowing look, his arms crossing over his chest. 

‘Fine,’ you roll your eyes at him. ‘I know why, Yoona was so kind to remind me, but I still don’t get why it has to be eight.’ 

‘It might seem excessive to you Nabi,’ Faris says, addressing you with your stage name which he knows usually softens you. ‘But you don’t see all that we see and trust me when I say that once you’re on tour, you’ll be happy to have them by your side. It gets crazy out there.’ 

‘I know that, but undercover bodyguards?’ you make a face. ‘I’m not royalty.’ 

Faris chuckles and with a gentle push on your shoulder, he guides you further through the hallway and towards the studio you were working at before Yoona called you to her office. It was one of the things you really liked about your agency. Nearly everything you needed was in the same building. 

‘You may as well be and I trust Chan and his guys to keep you safe,’ Faris says as he holds a door open for you. 

‘So you really know them?’ you ask, sitting down at the desk you were working at before. Your laptop is still open on the editing program you work with and there are multiple notebooks, paper coffee cups and empty candy wrappers spread all around it. ‘Did you work with them before?’ 

‘I trained 3RACHA actually,’ Faris nods. ‘Chan and I had multiple gigs together after that and I’ve only heard good things about the others as well. I’m confident I’m leaving you in good hands.’ 

‘You shouldn’t be leaving me at all,’ you groan, throwing your head back against your chair. ‘But I understand and I hope that when I have a husband one day, he'll do the same for me.’ 

Faris just smiles at that and gets comfortable on the couch facing the door. He knows better than to get into this conversation with you again. Last time you ended up facetiming his wife in tears and he ended up having to calm down two crying women. 

‘Wait, did you just say sriracha?’ you sit up in your chair when your brain suddenly realizes what he had just said. ‘As in the hot sauce?’

‘No, I said 3RACHA, that’s what they called themselves back then,’ Faris replies, glancing at you. ‘I think they made music together in their free time, before they started their own company.’ 

Huh. Interesting. Why on earth would they go from making music together to becoming bodyguards? 

‘So all eight of them made music together?’ you ask curiously. 

‘No, just Chan, Jisung and Changbin. I think they mostly rapped, but if you’re interested in knowing more, you can always ask. It could break the ice when you meet them,’ Faris suggests, winking at you. 

‘I’ll pass, I don’t want them to think I’m happy about this arrangement,’ you murmur, turning your chair so your back is to Faris. ‘Will you tell me when it’s time to go?’ 

‘Don’t I always?’ he chuckles. 

You flip him off without looking and put on your headphones. Time to edit some more music. 

****

You’re so engrossed in your music, that it takes Faris multiple tries to get you to put down your headphones. He even goes as far as opening the blinds to let the light in, making you whimper and flinch by the intrusion of it. 

‘Alright, alright,’ you yell, your eyes scrunched close. ‘I beg for mercy, I’ll come with you.’ 

Faris laughs and closes the blinds, once again developing the room in darkness, just how you like it. He has scolded you many times before about how bad it is for your eyes to squint at your screen in a dark room, but you rarely listen to him about it. 

‘If you think about telling my new watch dogs this trick of yours, I’ll haunt you,’ you warn Faris when the two of you walk towards Yoona’s office. 

Faris makes a movement with his hands as if he’s zipping his lips closed and you nod happily at him, trusting him to keep his word. 

‘How late are we?’ you ask, having forgotten your phone in the studio when Faris basically dragged you out by your arm. 

‘About five minutes too early,’ he smiles proudly. 

Of fucking course. He’s been working with you for two years so he knows all your annoying traits by now, including having a habit of being late because you simply forget the time when you’re working. 

‘What will I do without you,’ you pout at him, ignoring the nervous butterflies in your stomach as you near Yoona’s office. 

‘You’ll be just fine, Nabi,’ Faris says and you’re not sure if he means it as a reply to what you just said or as a reassurance before meeting your new team of bodyguards. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn towards Faris. ‘How do I look?’ 

‘I thought you didn’t care?’ he grins, but he reaches out to flatten a few wild strands of your hair. 

You blow him a kiss, put on a straight face and turn around to knock on the door before pushing it open. The first thing you’re greeted with is the silhouette of 4 men standing with their back to you. Each of them have broad muscular shoulders that are clearly visible under the black suit jacket they’re wearing, the fabric straining like they’re wearing a size too small. 

The man on the right turns around when you enter and you nearly gasp at his beauty. His hair is styled to show a little v of his forehead and the black strands nearly reach his eyes. Jesus. He could be a model if he wanted too. He raises his eyebrows at you when you just stare at him for a moment, before he nudges the man next to him. 

‘Are you fucking kidding me,’ you mutter under your breathe when the other man turns around and piercing eyes meet yours. 

Of course he’s beautiful as well. What the hell was Yoona thinking? 

‘Ah, Y/N, there you are,’ Yoona says when she notices you. ‘On time, even.’ 

You roll your eyes and stroll forward to her desk, ignoring the four men as you make your way around them. In that little moment you forget there’s supposed to be more of them and when you turn to stand next to Yoona and see the chairs in front of her desk filled with four more gorgeous men, you nearly stumble. 

Yoona grins at you and you narrow your eyes at the woman. 

‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’ you grumble at her. ‘Where did you even find them? heaven?’ 

One of the men snorts before trying to cover it up with a cough. 

‘Don’t mind her gentleman, she’s in a mood today,’ Yoona smiles. 

‘I wonder why,’ you mutter, sending a fake smile in the direction of the bodyguards. 

‘That’s alright, it must be a lot to take in,’ one of them says with such a deep voice that your eyes widen. 

It must look comical, cause the same man that snorted earlier, lets out a giggle. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, it’s how everyone reacts to first hearing Felix’s voice,’ 

You want to focus on him calling you Miss, but the urge to see which face belongs to the deep voice is stronger.

‘Who’s Felix?’ you ask, your eyes searching the men in front of you. 

‘I am,’ the only blonde man of the group says, lifting his hand to show you where he is. He’s absolutely stunning with freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. 

‘Holy shit, is that your real voice?’ you ask without thinking, slapping your hand in front of your mouth as soon as the words come out. 

He laughs and a few of the other men chuckle as well. 

‘It is, sometimes it gets even deeper,’ he says. 

‘Yeah, Lix actually has like three different voices,’ the man who called you Miss grins. 

It’s getting annoying not to know his name, but you don’t want to ask and seem interested. Luckily one of the men at the back seems to read your mind somehow. 

‘Why don’t we all introduce ourselves, my name is Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan. I’m the leader and head of your security team as of now. So if you experience any problems with our service in any way, I’m the one you can come to.’ 

‘Noted,’ you mumble, ignoring Yoona’s glare at your rudeness. 

So that’s Chan. Faris forgot to mention how beautiful his trainee was and you were so going to punch his arm for that later. 

‘I’m Lee Minho,’ the one with the piercing stare says. ‘I’ll be joining your dance team.’ 

Fuck. Of course he is. 

‘So will I,’ Felix smiles. ‘Lee Felix.’

‘And me, Hwang Hyunjin,’ the man closest to you winks. 

Great. They were absolutely going to kill you. In more ways than one. 

Biting your lip you wait for the last four to introduce themselves and pray to all the gods that Miss guy is going to be your assistant. He already feels like the most easy going out of all eight and if you need to work with one of them closely, you’d rather it be him than anyone else. 

‘Kim Seungmin, I’ll be one of your bodyguards’ the one who noticed you first says, his eyes flicking up and down your body as if he’s calculating how much of a flight risk you are. 

Oh just you wait and see buddy. 

‘I’m Yang Jeongin, but you can call me Innie or Ayen,’ the very cute man in front of Seungmin smiles and you nearly smile back at him. 

Finally the man you’ve been waiting for speaks up. ‘I’m Han Jisung, your new assistant.’ 

You cheer in your head, keeping a straight face as you look at the last man. He’s definitely the most buff of them all, his biceps really testing the fabric of his suit jacket. 

‘And I’m Seo Changbin, also part of your daily bodyguard squad.’ 

‘You’re all way too beautiful to be bodyguards,’ you say, crossing your arms with a frown while tapping your foot on the ground. 

Yoona makes a noise beside you and you don’t dare to look at her. She’ll definitely lecture you later, but this is all on her anyways. 

‘Worried your fans will fawn over us?’ Jisung jokes, winking at you. 

Your lips tip up in a tiny smile, but you quickly straighten your face. It was going to be hard to be a brat to them, but you were nothing if you weren’t stubborn. You’re not going to just warm up to them because they were hot and funny. Nope. Not going to happen. 

‘More like you’d be too busy worrying about your good looks to protect me,’ you say, raising your eyebrows at them. 

‘Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,’ Minho grumbles, placing his hand on Jisung’s shoulder as if to comfort him. ‘You won’t have to worry about that, looking this good doesn’t cost us much.’

You open your mouth to reply, but Yoona gets up and goes to stand next to you. 

‘That’s enough Y/N,’ she hisses before smiling her million dollar smile to the men. ‘As you can see Y/N hasn’t really warmed up to the idea of having this many eyes on her all the time.’ 

‘Don’t you have that all the time though,’ Seungmin says directly to you. 

You glare at him. ‘That’s not the same. 

He just shrugs. ‘We don’t want anything from you like your fans or stalkers. We’re not here to be your friends, we’re just here to keep you safe. That’s all that should matter.’ 

His words hit you harder than they should and you can’t help but flinch. The idol life isn't great for maintaining friendships and since you weren’t in a group, the only people you really had around you to talk to were your bodyguard Faris, Yoona and your dancers. You didn’t have a best friend, or even really friends in general, not since high school ended. 

‘Min!’ Chan calls out, glaring at the man. 

You square your shoulders and tilt your head, putting another fake smile on your face. ‘It’s fine, he’s right isn’t he.’ 

‘No, he’s not,’ Chan shakes his head. ‘Listen-’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you repeat, interrupting him. ‘How about I’ll show Jisung his office and we can go over the schedule for next week?’ 

Chan frowns down at you, sharing a look with Jisung and Yoona, but then he nods. You give him a nod back in thanks and without looking at any of the other guys you make a beeline for the door, hoping Jisung will follow you. 

‘Well, that went great,’ you hear someone say before you step outside. 

Faris frowns when he sees the look on your face, but he doesn’t say anything and falls into step behind you like he always does. It’s one of the things you love about him, he always knows when to not ask questions. You can hear him and Jisung quietly talking behind you, but you don’t mind, they know each other after all. 

‘Well, here we are,’ you say, opening the door of the small office area next to the studio you usually work at. ‘You can arrange everything how you like and if you need anything you can ask Yoona.’ 

‘I wasn’t expecting an office,’ Jisung smiles at you, stepping inside the room to take a look. 

It’s not much. Just a desk with a comfortable chair and a computer, a two person couch and in the corner there’s a bookcase that so far only houses a cactus, your first three albums and a box with documents your last assistant left behind. 

‘Of course you get an office, can’t have you shacking up with me in the studio,’ you say, trying to joke with him. 

‘Hey, about what Seungmin said,’ Jisung starts, sitting down in his desk chair and twirling around. ‘He’s just very serious about his job, he didn’t really mean the part about us not being your friends.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you shrug. ‘You’re not really meant to be my friends anyways, you’re hired to protect me.’ 

‘Yeah, you don’t look too happy about that. Why is that?’ Jisung asks and he sounds genuinely curious. ‘I mean, sure we’re a whole lot, but isn’t it nice to know you’ll be safe?’ 

‘Safe? Yes. Watched by eight, I repeat, eight men? No thank you, I don’t need that.’ 

Jisung tilts his head and purses his lips in thought, like he’s actually trying to see this from your side. ‘I get it, I do, I’ve lived with most of them for the last few years and like I said, we can be a lot.’ 

‘But?’ you ask, falling down on the couch in front of Jisung’s new desk. ‘I feel there’s a but there.’ 

‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Jisung leans his chin on his palm as he looks at you. ‘We’ve seen the threats Y/N, we’ve seen the video’s of handsy fans, we’ve seen the footage of that dude trying to break into your house. It’s a miracle really that nothing has happened to you so far with only Faris by your side.’ 

‘He’s right, Nabi,’ Faris says from his spot by the door. 

‘Okay, maybe more than one bodyguard would be better,’ you say slowly. ‘But eight? I still think it’s a bit much, especially the undercover bit.’ 

Jisung shrugs and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. ‘Maybe so, but at least you’ll know you will be safe.’ 

‘I guess,’ you mumble. 

‘Wanna go over the schedule for next week with me?’ Jisung asks. ‘Get your mind off all this for a bit?’ 

You jump up from the couch immediately and walk around the desk to stand next to him while he starts up the computer. 

****

About half an hour later you’re fairly confident Jisung will make a good assistant. He’s written down your interviews and gigs for the coming month and made a list of all the things he wanted to take care of before that. It was cute how he wanted to do it right. 

‘Knock, knock,’ a voice called out from the door and when you looked up you saw Chan and Changbin hugging Faris. 

‘How’s it going here?’ Chan smiles at you as he walks inside, his hands in his pocket. He probably tried to come off less intimidating like that, but it didn’t really work. 

‘Fine,’ you say, looking at the computer screen again. 

If you kept your eyes on him you’d probably drool all over your favorite studio outfit. That man was way too fine. 

‘It’s going great, Channie,’ Jisung says. ‘We’ve been getting along perfectly without the ice kings here.’ 

‘Don’t let them hear you call them that,’ Chan chuckles, moving to sit on the couch. ‘I hope we’ll be able to make this work, Y/N. I take great pride in my work and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel comfortable around us.’ 

Ugh. Why did he have to be so kind too? 

‘Thank you,’ you mutter, your eyes still on the screen. 

‘We’ll promise not to impose your privacy too much when we move in, but–’ 

Your head snaps up to look at him then and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jisung covering his face with his hands. 

‘What did you just say?’ you ask, standing up. ‘Please tell me I didn’t just hear you say the words moving in?’ 

‘Uhm,’ Chan tilts his head in confusion. ‘I thought you knew?’ 

‘Knew. What?’ you growl, your fingers balling up in fists. 

‘Oh boy,’ Jisung whispers and you turn to glare at him. 

‘You knew about this?’ 

‘Uhm, we all did? And we figured so would you,’ he shrugs, looking at you with big innocent eyes. 

You close your eyes, not at all immune to those brown doe eyes. If you keep looking at him you will stop being angry and you can’t do that. Not now. 

‘If somebody doesn’t tell me very soon what exactly this thing I’m supposed to know is, I will scream,’ you clench your jaw and take a shaky breath. 

This can’t be happening. They are not moving into your house with you. Yoona won’t do that to you, not after your talk this morning. Right? You close your eyes in frustration, already knowing the answer to your own question. She will. 

‘Such a drama queen,’ a new voice speaks up from the door and when you turn your head, already seeing red, you see Minho smirking at you. 

Changbin and Faris look concerned and when you look back at Chan, he actually looks like he’s pitying you. Fuck. 

‘Just say it already.’

‘Well, we’re supposed to move into your new house with you,’ Chan says, confirming it. 

Oh hell no. 

a/n: eeeeeeekkk I'm so excited for this series you have no idea!! I wasn't going to upload till tomorrow, but @staylovesmiley made me flip a coin and here I am at midnight, feeding you the first chapter.

Please let me know your thoughts <3

taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @hannahisnotblue @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[bonbonly]

If you are such a hore for charles rn, maybe we could get more sugar daddy charles? Maybe him punishing you for some reason?

you're spoiling me so badly right now PUHLEASE

bon's thoughts (18+)

sugardaddy!charles had specifically told you to get back home at 8:00 because he was going to take you out for dinner. you should've known your friends had different plans for you, though. they knew about your arrangement with the older man, and they couldn't stop giggling. you had asked charles to buy you some expensive purses, and he was happy that you were asking him to indulge you so he bought them. only problem was that you had gotten them for your friends who kept pestering you in between classes for those items. every time you’d sneak a new gucci bag for your best friend, you’d grow more worried that charles would one day ask you where all the bags he bought for you were. his money was only for you, not for your friends.

you received a text from charles at 6:30, asking you to finish your last class and head over to his place so you could wear an elegant red dress he bought you, and the gucci bag. you freak out, turning to your friend and begging her to give the bag back just for tonight but she frowned, telling you the bag was all the way back at her house 500 miles from the university. you nearly fainted at her words. charles was going to punish you for this, you were sure of it. so, you decided to do what you always did - ignore his texts because truth be told, you did like the angry sex that followed - but it was better than him not gifting you anything if he found out you’d been giving them to your friends, little miss saint.

“where’s the bag?” was the first question charles asked you when you finally returned home, “i searched all over your closet, mon chérie, i cannot find any of your bags.”

you gulp, awkwardly laughing, “a-about that actually…”

charles is laughing at the dinner table with some of his colleagues. he had been laughing this entire time, which you thought was a good sign but then again, he was never this cheerful. some of the people at the table stand up to grab some extra food, and you turn to face charles, leaning in to whisper into his ear,

"y-you're not mad at me?" you ask.

"mad? no," he responds, and you let out a sigh in relief, "no, i'm fuming, my love."

your jaw drops, and you feel him squeeze your thigh harshly, enough for it to hurt just a tiny bit. your eyes snap down to where his thumb is caressing the fat of your skin before he snickers under his breath, "my money is for your benefit. if i wanted to give money to your friends, i'd be a charity foundation, not your sugar daddy, is that clear?"

you nod your head, "i-i'm sorry, i kept trying to tell them no but they wouldn't listen! i would never try to go against you like that, you know-" your words are cut off as his fingers trail up your thigh, cupping your heat. you stiffen in your seat, making sure no one was looking to see what was happening under the table. charles' fingertips drag along your clothed cunt, and he smiles at the way you're squirming in your seat, begging him to stop, "no, not now. what if someone sees?"

"let everyone see how i use you, how you're mine and only mine. i must fuck you too hard because your brain just can't seem to understand it, hm? ma chérie, you're on the thinnest of ice as we speak right now. you're going to take my fingers for the rest of the night, and not a word out of you. not one sound." charles kisses your cheek, fingers pushing your panties to the side before collecting your arousal around your slick folds. you bite your tongue, trying not to whimper when his fingers push into your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. when the guests start coming back, you squish your thighs together as an effort to stop him but he glares at you, using his free hand to hold your thigh open as his fingers curl inside you.

"dinner's really good, right?" a woman asks you and you moan out loud,

"mhm, so good," you force a smile, narrowing your eyes at charles who's pumping his fingers faster inside you, a proud look on his face,

"my baby loves restaurants like this, i would take her to each one if she didn't want to waste my money so much," his eyes flicker at you, loving the way you're clearly struggling to hold it together. no noise, no sound, those words echo in your mind and you take massive bites of your food to occupy your mouth so you won't accidentally slip out another moan. thankfully, a performance in the background had just ended as the audience roars into applause, you let out a guttural moan that's disguised. you slump against your chair, chest heaving as charles pulls his fingers out and sucks your juices off, licking them clean before staring at you,

"if they ask, i'll tell them you're in the bathroom. they'll leave in a few minutes to the bar anyway," he instructs and you open your mouth to argue but he's quickly shoving you under the table. you want to use his money for your friends, wasting his time and energy to buy whatever you want? you can wait and do what he wants now, he doesn't care. he unbuckles his belt carefully, eyes flickering to his friends whose backs face him. they're too busy watching the singer on stage pour her heart out into a verse. he chuckles as he wraps the table's cloth around your face, only your mouth visible to him and he pulls out his throbbing member, shoving it down your throat without warning. your gags are silenced instantly and charles grips the back of your head, thrusting ruthlessly into your mouth as tears slip your eyes,

"you like it when i use you like this, right?" charles whispers, crouching down to make it look like he's on his phone, "fuck, using my money for your friends? how sweet, so sweet of you, mon chérie. so kind and helpful! i didn't know my little girl was this sweet to her friends at the expense of my money." he hisses, hands going under the table to yank your hair so that your mouth could open even wider for him. his balls slap against your chin, and he has to quiet his grunts as his thrusts become more erratic.

"fuck, i cannot wait to take you back home and fuck you properly. make sure you cannot walk for days so you won't come up with something stupid like this again." he scoffs, groaning under his breath as he shoots ropes of his cum down your throat. when he pulls out, he admires the sight of his cum dribbilng down your neck, dropping onto your full breasts that almost spill out of your dress.

"stay there for 5 minutes." charles says, "in the meantime, make yourself useful for me," and he sticks his thumb in your mouth, watching you suck diligently as he waits for his friends to leave.

[authenticbunni]

There is no mental fighting/struggle

Girl you is lost. Manifesting is not that complicated at all. You just have to simply decide.

Before you scroll, I know you’ve seen people say that all the time, and it just never wrapped around your complexed mind. I used to have that problem too, I feel you. I have a complexed mind, and even though most people say you don’t have to know everything, I did so I can wrap it around my mind and knowing more actually helped me de-complex my mind. Now that I understand it I’m going to explain some reason as to maybe why you’ve been struggling to just decide.

I’ve put it into two parts if you don’t feel like you need to read everything. Accountability and 4D = 3D NOT 3D = 4D

Accountability

I think where you go wrong is not realizing everything in your life that you’ve ever interacted with or did is from your thoughts. You’re still in a mindset of “how could this have happened? This is not my fault? This is not my doing?” Now that’s human, people always try to blame, don’t beat yourself up. But when you’re trying to manifest and blame every single thing in your life on everyone else, you’re never going to manifest because you can’t take accountability. If you can’t take accountability of your own life, how can you even have full control over your own life.

That was a really hard pill for me to swallow, when it came to taking accountability for the doings in my life. TRUST ME! When I had to move away from Florida, when I had a brutal falling out with my bf. I had to realize that was my fault. Both of those were not in my favor or desires, but I thought so much about those outcomes that it eventually happened.

Once you take accountability you realize the only thing you’ve been struggling with is you. The only thing you’ve been fighting off is you. The only struggle you’ve been going through is you. You have accepted those thoughts into your mind, and now you’ve become them. Now, don’t get panicky or feel like you gotta do a whole bunch of stuff to get past this. Just simply let them pass. Know that these are just thoughts and you have the power to accept and decline them with ease, because you’re subconscious mind always follows your lead without thinking twice.

4D = 3D NOT 3D = 4D

What I mean by the equation is. Your imagination controls/creates your reflection. Your mind is your true reality, and your 3D reflects that. Your 3D does not make you, you make you

4D = reality

3D = reflection (of your 4D)

Stop separating the two, they are always in the same equation. Your 3D is as changeable and flexible as your imagination. I didn’t realize this until I actually saw it happen.

Back to the brutal falling out with my bf. Prior we were just friends but he was pretty regular, talking here, having conversations. But due to dwelling in negative thoughts, in less than I think 1 or 2 days he completely took a 180 and flipped the switch. He hated me, and never wanted to talk to me. During this is completely shock on why this would happened because “I thought I was doing everything right” after a few I realize I was more strong on thinking he hated me, saw me as a nuisance. (Okay that’s enough, I don’t wanna talk about it tm cuz I’m manifesting him back) but that was the work of my manifestation.

As of right now that’s all I can think of, I might make another post or add on to this post. But yeah, those are the reasons I think people have a hard time with. If you feel like this wasn’t enough details for you, that’s fine I’m glad I at least helped u a lil bit 😋.

[snapdougles]

okay so I'm gonna try keep this brief so I'm not here forever, but here's the thing, this isn't new, actually people have tried using computers for therapy since the 60s:

Meet ELIZA

ELIZA is a simple computer program that responds to questions it is asked in a way meant to emulate a therapist, it did this so well, even it's creator was concerned at how quickly people started to empathize with it and consider it to not be a machine but a sentient being.

Humans are really good at recognising human like traits, and latching on to them, we decide that things with traits like us, are humanlike like us, similiarly, things that lack those human traits, will have their humanlikeness diminished.

This is great at finding likeminded tribes, terrible at identifying any sort of truth though.

To start my next point, I'm just gonna preface it with yeah therapy is good, therapists are good, it's not an easy job, and therapy with a person probably better than with an 'AI', but saying 'bots' (i don't think AI is the right description here,) can't help is just not correct, as measurably, they can, and do.

One of the advantages of therapy is having someone to prompt you to think in ways that you aren't used to, therapists can't peer magically into peoples minds, they are prompting the patient to express their experience, and try to help them to realize things they might not be aware of

"And how does that make you feel?"

Immediate follow up, obviously therapists do way more than this, this isn't gonna help everyone, and it isn't gonna automatically solve problems, but a lot of the time people just need help reframing issues into terms that they can understand and deal with, and bots can help with that.

Whether you think this is good/bad, right/wrong or useful at all is up to you, but ruling it out as being non-functional because "ai bad" is bad praxis.

sources:

guys. please

[oceanicwriting]

jealousy.

summary: everyone knew, touching mattheo riddle's girl was a sure death sentence. did anyone know you were his girl? no, and maybe that led to things ending up the way they did inside his truck.

pairing(s): mattheo riddle x fem!reader

a/n: this one took me a while to write, hope you like it!

+18 smut, rough car sex, violence, spanking, degradation, cursing, toxic (?)

ㅤㅤㅤit was a perfect night. you and your friends are having fun in the cold light of the night, sharing alcohol and practical jokes. george was sitting next to you, laughing at the story carol was narrating with exaggerated expressions. hearing the boys' laughter join yours was like a warm hug to the soul.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen your friend finishes telling her story, managing to get laughter out of both spectators, you can feel it. in the distance between the people, mattheo looks straight in your direction. you would have been worried that more than one of your classmates would notice, but they all seemed to be too busy with their own lives.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you want another drink? —carol asks, forcing you to look away from the brunette.

ㅤㅤㅤthe glass of alcohol is still half-drunk in your hands, fearing that if you drink much more, you might not be able to stop. you look at your friend, and he doesn't look like he's in any condition to drink much more.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i think george shouldn't drink any more —you say, stifling your laughter.

ㅤㅤㅤcarol mocks the boy before going off to find more alcohol for his glass. george, on the other hand, looks at you with eyes so wide they could explode. just looking at him makes you laugh, but you should have assumed it would get much worse.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what? —you ask when he's moved his mouth, but nothing came out of it.

ㅤㅤㅤyou move closer, putting your ear close to his lips to hear him well.

ㅤㅤㅤ—where's carol? —he repeats with the words dragging in the air and poorly pronounced.

ㅤㅤㅤyou carefully tells george to lie down a little, obeying you without problem. on the floor, covered with the other end of the blanket you were sitting on, your friend loses consciousness in a second.

ㅤㅤㅤ—on five minutes. —you don't have to turn to see him to know that it's mattheo riddle himself. his voice is full of anger—. i'll wait for you in the truck. ten meters south.

ㅤㅤㅤyou catch your lower lip between your teeth and watch as mattheo now passes unconcerned through your field of vision.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen carol returns, she brings with her another group of friends who entertain you for a while. finally, when you make your escape into the darkness of the forest, you know you're minutes late. you had to admit that you were anxious to meet him.

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo's truck is a huge black car, and it's parked between a bunch of huge trees. as expected, he's there too, standing with the glass of alcohol hanging in his left hand and a half-finished cigarette in the other.

ㅤㅤㅤ—mattheo —you greet, but he doesn't say anything.

ㅤㅤㅤthe two of you have been seeing each other secretly for seven months, thanks to the night that mattheo got his first taste of the girl he had so desired. you. although you had decided that it would be purely physical, for some time now, you have begun to feel emotions that you had pushed away from you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—get in the truck —he demands, opening the door to the back seats.

ㅤㅤㅤyou frown, confused—: what's wrong?

ㅤㅤㅤyou weren't going to lie. the relationship with mattheo was dominant and exciting all the time. that's why, when his deep voice orders you something, it's impossible not to feel your body burn with desire.

ㅤㅤㅤ—get in the fucking truck.

ㅤㅤㅤas you get in, you sit next to the window. mattheo doesn't get in behind you because he stays downstairs to take one last drag of the cigarette and drink the alcohol in his glass. after that, he's inside the truck, closing the door and looking at you from head to toe.

ㅤㅤㅤfrom one moment to the next, attracted by the force that his hands exert on your legs, you are sitting next to him with his lips biting and kissing without any shame. the taste of liquor, mixed with cigarette, is so perfect that the intrusion of his tongue only makes the kiss more exquisite.

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo always kissed you as if it were the last time he does it. his tongue entering to steal your breath and his lips caressing yours with a dominant delicacy. you liked it. you really liked the way he always made each kiss an intense one.

ㅤㅤㅤyou can feel his hands squeeze your waist and, guided by the sensation, you raise your hands to his neck to deepen the exchange even more. then, leaving you surprised, he moves away.

ㅤㅤㅤ—who gave you permission to touch me? —your breath hitches at the way his dark eyes rake over you—. laughing at my own face, and you think you can touch me. it's so funny.

ㅤㅤㅤhe pushes you away, letting you fall back against the leather seats. his hand catches yours above your head, leaving you immobilized.

ㅤㅤㅤ—with stupid george? what a ridiculous name.

ㅤㅤㅤyou try to say something in defense of your friend, but his mouth crashes into yours firmly. his free hand slips under your clothes, squeezing your breasts, making you shiver from the cold.

ㅤㅤㅤ—george is my friend —you say, when he has stopped kissing you to take off your shirt.

ㅤㅤㅤthe laugh that leaves his lips is sour, and you can see how his jealous gaze doesn't believe your words. in your head, your hands are now tied with your own clothing.

ㅤㅤㅤ—trying to make me look stupid, bitch? —he questions, taking off your skirt to look at you. his hard cock vibrates from the perfect view he has of your body—. you're going to suffer so much that you'll want so much more.

ㅤㅤㅤhe doesn't let you speak when he pushes the fabric of your skirt into your mouth. you struggle to breathe through your nose, but you manage to stay calm when his hard cock is released from his pants. the stifled gasp only makes a silly smile appear on mattheo's lips, so satisfied that it could have left you begging for more.

ㅤㅤㅤ—already waiting for me? my needy girl. tell me, are you already wet and waiting for me to sink my cock into you? oh, let me check it out —he says, biting your ear and running his fingers through your wet folds—. i'm never wrong, right?

ㅤㅤㅤhis icy hand arouses much more than the need for his touch, and you move your hips in search of a stronger sensation.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you want it so much that it's impossible for you to wait, right? would you have asked stupid george? —the mention of your friend makes you roll your eyes, a gesture that mattheo doesn't ignore but doesn't mention either.

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo's penis slides through your pussy, caressing the wetness and sensation of your panties pressing against you. his hips moving until they brush against your clit makes you let out soft moans, enjoying the friction of his hot skin.

ㅤㅤㅤthe car windows were already fogged up by the heat of your bodies together, but there wasn't enough heat for you. you needed a lot more from him. with a soft whimper, you try to get the boy's attention, who, without stopping moving, looks at you attentively.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you look so pathetic crying for my cock —he says, mockingly with a half smile and still moving between the wetness of your folds—. a little slut. that's what you are, isn't it?

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo releases your breasts, and one of his hands squeezes your nipple. the sensations mixing together make you want to reach down to take off your panties and insert the boy's member yourself, but with the slightest movement, he stops touching you. the lack of connection feels like torture.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you really want to do that? —mattheo says, slowly removing your panties—. so gorgeous and insolent.

ㅤㅤㅤhe positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his hard cock transmitting heat to your entrance ready to deal with everything. the problem is that he doesn't move, looking at you with a soft smile.

ㅤㅤㅤ—how much do you want it? show me how much you want it, bitch.

ㅤㅤㅤthe tears that gathered in your eyes slide down your face at the need to have him. pushing your own body from the wall of the car to get as close as you can from there. you move, whimpering to have him inside you. the mere thought of you crying for something he'd give you without asking twice makes him vibrate throughout his half-naked body.

ㅤㅤㅤwith a single thrust he sinks into you, making you feel his balls stuck to your throbbing pussy. the muffled cry is silenced by the garment in your mouth and mattheo's growl. he moves closer to your torso, tracing a path of saliva at the same time that his hips begin to move.

ㅤㅤㅤ—so fucking tight. do you want me inside you so much that you squeeze me so as not to come out?

ㅤㅤㅤhis words are like gasoline on the fire, making you clench your muscles tightly and moan. the pace is fast, sinking completely every so often. from one moment to the next your hips are raised by the strength of his arms and, without stopping or slowing down, he begins to touch a part of your body that makes you scream and moan much louder.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, cum for me, bitch. i can feel how much you want it.

ㅤㅤㅤyour whole body shivers, increasing the heat of your face and losing your mind when his last movements are so deep that the sound of your skin colliding becomes obscene. mattheo curses, and with that, your hot liquid embraces his member. he had also cum inside you.

ㅤㅤㅤyou tried to breathe better, but it's so difficult when you had just exploded in front of him. his member is still inside you, and he doesn't seem to have any intentions of coming out for now. you don't know if it's because he notices your difficulty in catching your breath or he wants to listen to you, but he takes your skirt off your mouth, turning you around in a maneuver that allows him to remain buried in you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—m-mattheo... —the aftermath of your own orgasm still doesn't let you think clearly—. it's just you.

ㅤㅤㅤyou can feel it, his flaccid penis becoming hard again.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i just want you to fuck me. i-i want you to be the only one who can kiss me and see me naked.

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo kisses your shoulder, back, and neck. you try to move your hips in search of the friction you need, but his hand slams against your buttock with excessive force. your vagina only reacts by squeezing his member.

ㅤㅤㅤ—how could i think you're lying to me when you have my cock embraced so deliciously? —his hips begin to move again—. i want everyone to hear you, so they know how I'm the only man capable of filling this delicious and wet pussy.

ㅤㅤㅤhis slow and tortuous movements draw soft moans from you, but in a second he increases the speed to hear you scream between the beautiful sounds of your mouth. mattheo, who has no sense of anything, helps you keep up the pace to find himself balls deep inside you. then, when he knows you're close, he suddenly pulls out.

ㅤㅤㅤ—w-what..?

ㅤㅤㅤ—i want you to say it again. i want to hear you say how much you want it —he demands, so fervently that you could die in his arms—. tell me how much you love me.

ㅤㅤㅤyou try to find the words in your head, but you can’t. his hard cock threatens to enter again, and when you jerk your hips in search of him, he spanks you again, making you moan.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, say it. i can be here all night.

ㅤㅤㅤhe knows that you have already diminished the force of your orgasm, so he enters you again. it is so hard and fast that it doesn’t take long for you to feel like you will explode again. mattheo threatens to pull out again, but you don’t allow it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—o-only you mattheo, only you can have me like this. p-please. i love you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—that’s how i like it, my little bitch.

ㅤㅤㅤhis hand tangles in your hair, pulling so that your last moans can reach his ears better. with his last deep thrusts, your entire field of vision becomes blurred, and a muffled cry leaves your lips as you expel your liquids for the second time. your body falls like a dead weight on the seats of the car, while you hear mattheo breathing heavily.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come here.

ㅤㅤㅤwith a handkerchief in the pocket of his pants, he cleans the seats, then both of you. from the floor of the car, he picks up your underwear to dress yourself with them and his shirt.

ㅤㅤㅤ—tomorrow everyone will know who you belong to. and i'm not saying this because of all the marks i've left on you —he says, laughing at the sight of your chest covered in hickeys and bites—. i'll take care of letting them know myself.

ㅤㅤㅤyou look at him, trying to find some trick in his brown eyes, but there's nothing. he was being honest, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Can you do a fic where Dallas or Sodapop argues with reader's dad (reader has daddy issues)

Summary: Dallas gets into an argument with your dad Warnings: bad parent, reader has daddy issues, confrontation, smoking, Author's Note: i wrote this for dally cuz this is a more dally thing to do yk. this is lowkey a little bad because i have to get back in the groove of writing.

As the toughest in the gang, Dallas makes it his personal job to stick up for the stragglers in the group. Johnny owes a lot of his life to Dallas, who's fished him out of many sticky situations, but thats just who Dally was. His kindness came in layers, peeling back over time and care. He would never lord over the fact that he can swing a meaner punch than you, but instead helped you cultivate a skill that could up your survival. Often, Dallas grit his teeth together in frustration, watching you hold back tears from another rough day with your father, but he held back out of respect for you and your family. Today was no different, almost. You plopped down on the curb beside him, eyeing him and his cancer stick over. He passed it to you before turning his eyes back to the horizon. You inhaled, the earthy and cheap cigarette smoke corroding against your throat. You ashed it against the cement before handing it back. "What's on your mind, doll?" He asked, after a fermata of silence. You shook your head. "Nothin'" "Don't lie to me," He said, no malicious intent in his voice. "Just the usual" You mumble against the thick fabric of your winter sweater. "What'd he do this time" He asked, putting out the tired cigarette and turning his attention to you fully. The smoke curled around him in long and thin loops and made him look more heavenly than a greaser. You smiled at the thought and felt the tears fall because of your squinting eyes. "Just blew up on me again, for no reason," You sobbed a bit, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes. "No reason?" He asked and you nodded. "Oh well," You sighed, "Can't do much about it," You said, voice breaking, dropping your head into your lap. "Oh, bullshit. C'mon," He got up quickly and grabbed your arm. You stumbled behind him. "What are you doing?!" You asked, eyes wide. "I'm gonna chew him out, 'cuz apparently his mother never did," He said, exasperated. You decided to not point out the irony and followed along in silence. Dallas knocked against the worn door aggressively. There was no answer at first but you rolled your eyes and knocked again. Your dad opened the door, an annoyed expression etched on him and deep on the wrinkles of his expression. "What?" He asked, deadpan and blunt. "The fuck is wrong with you?" Dallas spat, his New York accent poking through. "What!?" He repeated, shocked. "What the HELL is wrong with you?" He shouted, pushing your dad against the shoulders, squaring him up. "Young man, listen here-" He scrambled backwards, utterly caught off guard. "No, YOU listen here you little shit," Dallas started, "I don't got the goddamn time to deal with everyone's problems here. So you better shut your damn mouth around Y/n, cuz if I get one more damn WORD about what you're doing again, I'm going to knock your fucking block off." Without another word, he stormed out while dragging you behind and slammed the door. "Jesus Christ, Dallas!" You gasped. "Yeah, yeah," He said, before turning to you. "Look, doll, I know that doesn't make 100% sure he won't do it again, but tell me if he makes you cry again and I'll follow through, promise" He said, patting you on your shoulder before taking off. "Thanks Dal," You called after him and he sent you a lopside grin as he walked away.

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

🎄 Hallmark Christmas Movie AU Part 3 🎄

(part 1) ❄️(part 2)

At this point in the script, we need Simon/his family/the town to face some kind of problem that Wille can help solve in a way that doesn’t rely on his royal status, lets him spend more time with Simon and helps him understand what he’s really passionate about. So what I’m thinking is that Simon’s school or maybe the town community centre is putting on a Christmas play. Actually it’s probably a musical so Simon is very involved. It’s an annual thing that the town is completely obsessed with. It’s not Christmas without it, basically. But now there’s a problem: the beautiful hand-painted scenery flats they always use got damaged somehow (Hallmark Force Majeure) and they’re unusable. Everyone is devastated; the flats are a classic and everybody loves them. They can do the play without them but it just won’t be the same. Nobody is available to paint new ones at such short notice. Except a certain prince who is there on holiday so he has nothing to do besides make eyes at his crush and who took up painting some years ago as a way to calm his anxiety.

So Wille offers to repaint the flats. Mostly he wants to impress Simon and spend more time with him, but he also really likes the thought of being actually useful. I don’t know how long it would take in real life but in fantasy world it takes exactly the amount of time they have. Simon keeps him company whenever he can and enjoys watching him paint and the cute little frown he has on his face when he’s concentrating. They talk and joke and flirt and get to know each other better. Wille thinks that he should probably be trying to protect his heart because he knows that this can never be anything more than a little holiday romance – someone as wonderful as Simon doesn’t belong in his dreary life. But he knows that it’s a lost cause. He’s falling hard and fast and there’s no stopping it, so he decides to just enjoy it while he can.

As Wille paints, at first he’s trying to copy the old flats based on photos, but then he gets ideas for changes and improvements. He doesn’t think he should do that, though; it’s a tradition and he shouldn’t break it. But Simon encourages him to be creative and just do what he feels is right, and Wille finds that he’s really enjoying the process. (See, it’s a metaphor! We are not in a subtle genre.)

And you can guess what happens. At some point Wille gets some paint on his face and Simon tries to wipe it off. They were laughing about something just a second ago but suddenly they’re not. Simon’s thumb brushes over Wille’s cheekbone, smearing the paint. Wille’s nose nudges Simon’s, and their lips finally meet in a kiss that’s been days in the making. It’s soft and brief. They break apart to check in with each other, grin, and the next thing Wille knows is he’s dropping the paint brush and pulling Simon closer, closer, closer.

Simon ends up with paint on the back of his shirt and in his hair, but he doesn’t mind.

[thebellekeys]

Wow, way to show you have no understanding of the problem I'm getting at with my post.

Imagine seeing an individual getting a PhD in art history and instead of blaming the workings of late-stage capitalism for the difficulty it brings them to get a job, you blame... the person that literally contributed to new, valuable knowledge in a field that's been studied for hundreds of years at the tertiary level? You blame the university for offering *checks notes* a literal university degree solely because of its lack of market value? Assigning value to a degree solely based on capitalist return is exactly the problem.

I'm not in support of dumping 100k on any degree, frankly, especially when there is more than enough money to support R&D in developed countries. I would never take out a loan like that myself. But if a person is capable of academically succeeding at such a high level, it is rather crude of society to punish them for not automatically subscribing to largely volatile markets when it comes to their studies.

We should be campaigning for educational reform, demanding more information about funding agencies' checks and balances, and responding to the needs of society by envisioning job opportunities for persons in the arts and humanities. We as a society need to acknowledge scholarly pursuits are inherently valuable. We should not be penalizing students who have made the choice to study history and literature. Because there will come a time in a few decades when AI starts putting STEM people out of a job too, and then we'll all be in the same boat suffering when ten Elon Musks rule the word and decide everyone else isn't worth the time, that everyone else just isn't getting degrees with "market value".

But, lol, the only other post on your blog is one blaming the people who give a shit about Palestine and genocide for Trump winning the election instead of all the conservatives that supported him en masse regardless of "whatever's going on in the West Bank", so nothing I say is gonna make a difference to you.

And a reminder that higher education cannot be considered truly democratised if students can still be doomed to poverty with multiple or advanced arts and Humanities degrees...

[redgoldblue]

so assuming Avery is actually pregnant / doesn't early-trimester miscarry (which is not a given), there's two reasonable ways this can go, right. number one is she gets an abortion, the plotline is used to pull them all back together again, and they all have some collective hurt/comfort about it. number two, the one i would write - don't get me wrong, i'm all for women getting career-driven abortions, but hear me out - is the one where she does have the baby. under the cut bc it got long.

she goes to med school at first while pregnant - Max is right, it can be done, people in my cohort did it - and either gets lucky with the timing of the actual birth being during holidays, or just works her way to getting time off for a few weeks around it. And then... there's a baby. And you know what else there is? There's two dads (because we're 100% Mamma Mia-ing this bitch. they never find out who the bio dad is and they never seriously try. Baby comes out with Avery's exact skin tone so that's no clue.), and an entire cruise ship worth of backup babysitters. So Avery goes back to med school, and leaves the baby with Tristan and Max.

And, yes, raising a baby while also running an infirmary with a rotating cast of temporary substitute nurses filling Avery's role isn't the easiest thing they've ever done, but Robert loves fulfilling grandparent duties any time he's not on duty; Rosie gets one of those strap-on baby carriers and walks her (i don't know why i've decided the baby is a her but i have now) around the engine room pointing out parts and explaining concepts and hey, the baby never complains about her Michigan stories; Corey gets a cart and a bundle of clean sheets and pushes her down the corridors until the smell of laundry powder automatically makes her start laughing.

Max and Tristan make a pact to send Avery at least two photos a day - which ends up getting supplemented by everyone else who's with Baby - and FaceTime her most days, and whenever she gets a few days off she meets them in port. (The most expensive part of baby-raising ends up being her flights to wherever the Odyssey happens to be at the time, at least until Robert finds out and figures out a way to start paying her 'maternity leave', despite her insistence that the whole point of this is that she isn't maternity-leaving and he should probably be paying himself that and anyway, isn't she technically not an employee right now?)

And the thing is, during this time, Max and Tristan start... realising some things. Like how neither of them feel like they've lost their only partner, because they.. haven't. Like how the co-parenting's been working out better than either of them expected, because they fell instantly (minus a few minor bumps) into a shared rhythm. Like how sometimes they look at the other one holding Baby and feel like their heart's about to explode.

Also, they've both started sleeping in Max's bed. Because Baby's spent so much time sleeping in the corner of the infirmary that now if she wakes up at night and can't see both of them, she starts crying inconsolably. And obviously Max's suite is more suited to multiple inhabitants, and they're usually too damn exhausted to even remember the first time they were in this bed together.

(usually. most of the time. and when they're not, they don't make it the other's problem)

So at the end of the first year of this, the last two days of the year's last cruise have been packed with crisis after crisis after demanding patient after crisis, and as soon as they finally wave the last passenger off they hand Baby gratefully over to Robert and go crash out in Max's bed.

Avery was supposed to be meeting them on board tomorrow, but her last exam gets unexpectedly moved up by a day (believe me, med school loves to pull that kind of shit on you), so a couple hours after the passengers have gone, she shows up to surprise them. And finds Robert (a known ody3 shipper) first, who lets her take Baby with minimal captainly sulking about it, and while she rocks and kisses Baby, tells her (as a known ody3 shipper) that the two dads will be on the Pelican deck, but they're probably asleep.

Avery kinda frowns at him, but doesn't question it, and takes Baby up with her to Max's suite to find them. And they are both fast asleep, on either side of Max's bed with a space carefully preserved between them (because it's usually where Baby would be and they're both terrified of accidentally rolling onto her in the middle of the night). She's also exhausted after exams, so she crawls into it, lies on her back with Baby on top of her chest, and goes straight to sleep.

Tristan and Max wake up before her, and when they look across at each other, at Avery and Baby between them, they both simultaneously realise, oh. oh. oh, this - this three, two-and-half, four people, all together - this is it. this is the love, this is the children, this might even be the home - the second, third, fourth bucket list items to happen in this bed.

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

The space between

Chapter One: The Cameron’s

AN; Hi! I haven’t posted in forever but, I’m writing this new series, I posted it on wattpad first, but decided to just post it here as well, I hope everyone enjoys! No warnings for the first chapter.

Moving across the United States solely for her fathers selfish intent was definitely not enjoyable.

She had tried everything, asking to stay with her aunt, her godmother, getting her own apartment.

Yet her father had a good point. She couldn’t afford to live alone in California- they already struggled as a family, what made her think she could somehow push it alone?

The central valley, the farming area of California, not the sunny, beachy, enjoyable part. More like constant cow shit smell, allergies from shaken trees and lots of traffic.

Her dad was a hard working man. Always trying to keep the family up, and so was her mom. Growing up a farmers daughter wasn’t easy. Handed down clothes, same shoes for all four years of high school. Yet she had everything she ever wanted and more, what could she complain about?

The front door swung open, her father basically chasing after her as she threw her bag on the ground and stomped into the kitchen to see her mom cooking.

“You are allowing this?”

Eve yelled, her moms eyes growing a bit wide as she set the knife down to turn to her husband who stood next to her daughter out of breath from chasing her up the long driveway.

“It’s not in my hands.”

Eves mother shrugged as she picked the silver knife back up, chopping at the carrots.

Eve let out a laugh as she rubbed her forehead then looked at her dad.

“North Carolina? That’s across the country dad.”

Eves dad, Carlos, frowned, his hands gripping at his cap that he now held in his hands, his facial hair growing grayer by the day.

“Sweetheart, it’s too much to live here- farms not doing good, we don’t sell like we did when you were a baby. I got a great opportunity over there.”

Suddenly, Eve felt guilty for acting like she did, her heart rate slowing drastically as her lips turned downwards. She quickly stepped forward, her arms wrapping around her dad as she squeezed him, nodding her head as her chin rested on his shoulder.

“Alright.”

It all happened so quickly after that.

Some wealthy family bought out their land in a matter of days, giving them just the perfect amount of money to make that horrid trip.

It felt like months but in reality it only took two days to get to their new house. The main problem was, they weren’t really able to see the house they bought till they arrived.

It wasn't horrible, simple three bedroom house, the neighbors were pretty quiet too. Everything was to quiet. Seeing her dad happy like he was is what made the move worth it.

That new house feeling is always hard to shake off. Eve sat on the front porch, writing in her journal when she heard the sound of tires against the gravel of the driveway. Her eyes shot up to see a truck pulling in, her thumb clicking at her pen as she tilted her head back towards the kitchen window.

“Dad! Somebody’s here!”

Her dad usually replied fast but she got silence, rolling her eyes as she closed her journal and stood up, hearing somebody walk up the steps, The creaking making her head snap back almost instantly as she set her stuff down on the chair.

“Can I help you?”

A tall man, he looked clean, like he was from the bay area where she was from but she knew that probably couldn’t be true. The nice plaid shirt he wore tucked into his jeans, his facial hair gruff yet cleaned up. He probably had the most perfect teeth she’d ever seen.

“Carlos here?”

The older man asked as he pulled off his sunglasses, his blue eyes squinting as she looked him up and down, a concerned look on her face.

“Who’s asking?”

His chuckle made her upper lip curl slightly, about to introduce himself before her dad swung the front door open, wiping the oil off his hands.

“Mr.Cameron, So sorry I was over in the garage.”

“Please, Just call me Ward.”

Eve felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she grabbed her journal and pens and went to walk past her dad who gripped at her shoulder.

“This is my daughter Eve.”

Eve let out a quiet sigh, looking at her dad and tucking her journal under her arm before she turned around and put on a smile, her arm extending as she shook his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasures mine- I wanted to formally invite you to dinner at my house tonight, thought we could discuss some of the things we talked about over the phone?”

Ward spoke as Eve pushed past her dad and turned the corner, staying against the wall to listen to their conversation.

“I can bring my family?”

Carlos asked as he set his gloves down on the small shelf by the front door.

“Of course please, bring everyone.”

Ward laughed, patting Carlos’ shoulder before he began to walk down the steps of the porch.

“Seven pm okay? I’ll make sure I send you the address!”

As soon as her dad shut the door she turned from the corner, ready to protest but Carlos put his hand up and went to walk down the hallway.

“You’re going- I don’t wanna hear it.”

He spoke sternly as he washed his hands in the kitchen, Looking over as Eve leaned against the doorframe.

“I don’t even have nice clothes.”

Carlos rolled his eyes, drying his hands with a towel before digging into his back pocket and pulling out a crisp fifty dollar bill.

“Don’t tell your mom.”

Eve couldn’t help but smile as she grabbed the bill from his hand, kissing his cheek softly and grabbing the keys from the shelf and walking down the driveway.

Her first time going into town and she looked like.. shit. Her shorts torn up, and the one shirt she had on. She shrugged as she slipped on her sunglasses, starting up her dads truck.

No clue where she was going, she pulled up to a curb at the start of a strip of stores. Living this close to the water would definitely have to be something she would need to get use to. She shoved the trucks keys into her pocket and tugged at the door to make sure it was locked.

The sunglasses pulled the strands of her hair back as she slipped them over her head when she stepped into a store, Thankfully it was the perfect time of year for dresses, Eves hands separated the hangers looking for her size, not looking up when she heard the jingle of the bell again. She pulled one of the hangers off the rack looking at a beautiful solid black dress, her fingers digging for the tag. A huff of air leaving her as she saw the price, quickly putting it back.

Almost literally jumping out of her skin as one of the employees suddenly showed up right beside her, her body having a physical reaction as she jumped back and almost fell into the rack of jackets behind her.

“Need help finding something?”

She could hear her heart beating in her ears, but she shook her head with a slight laugh.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

Eve nodded as she started looking at the dresses again, side eyeing the employee who stood in the same exact place.

“If I have any questions I of course would let you know.”

Eve spoke awkwardly, not sure what her reasoning was for just standing there. Eve cleared her throat and stepped back with one of the dresses, the employee's hand reaching out to reorganize the rack.

“That’s a seventy five dollar dress.”

The woman laughed slightly as Eve looked at the mirror holding it up to her frame, her eyebrows frowning as she looked over at her.

“Okay?”

She couldn’t help but scoff as she held the hanger in her hand still, what was she trying to say? She was having a really hard time grasping exactly what she meant- if she even had a point.

“I think you should go.”

The woman pulled the dress from Eves hands, making her laugh in disbelief, right when she was about to speak, another girl from behind her spoke

“And what If she had the money to pay for it? You want that dress? I’ll buy it for you, If it’s really that serious.”

The girl looked just as agitated as Eve, her head tilted as the employee rolled her eyes and handed the girl the dress.

“Sure Sarah.”

Sarah.

Eve turned the Sarah who was putting the dress back on the rack, her head tilting towards the door.

“There’s a better place down the street trust me, don’t give them your money.”

“I’m Eve by the way.”

Sarah nodded as she walked out the door. Eve followed cautiously, looking behind her with squinted eyes as she tried to see if there was a number she could call to complain.

Sarah noticed, shaking her head as her and Eve walked side by side.

“This strip doesn’t really have corporate numbers- they probably mistreat people all the time because of pogue status you know.”

What? Eve looked at Sarah confused as they walked into the new shop.

“What’s a pogue?”

Sarah was already ahead of her, flipping through racks with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times. “You’ve got to try this one,” she said, holding up a sleek black dress that clung to her fingers.

Eve shook her head quickly. “I don’t think black’s my color.”

Sarah rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, instead pulling another gown off the rack. This one was a soft lavender, the fabric so light it seemed to look almost see through. “What about this? It’s subtle but stunning. Perfect for you.”

Eve hesitated, glancing at the price tag. Her stomach dropped. “Sarah, I can’t afford this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music.

Sarah waved her off, tossing the dress into Eve’s arms. “Don’t worry about it. My dad’s got a tab here. Just try it on.”

But Eve didn’t believe in luck like that, especially considering she has no plans on leaving her house just like she did back at home. The town truthfully was beautiful though, riding with her windows down gave her a feeling she hadn’t felt once in her life.

Once she got back home, she walked into the house seeing her mom curling her hair, yelling at her younger sister, making her quietly step into her room to get ready.

The dress fit her perfectly, the dark purple fabric going down to her shins, knowing if it had went any higher her mom would’ve thrown a fit about modesty. She walked out the kitchen, seeing her dad trying to clip his watch on his own, her heels clicking as she stepped over to him and grabbed the watch from his wrist, carefully clipping it on for him.

“My beautiful.”

Her dad smiled as he kissed her forehead, making her smile as she fixed his collar for him.

“Please be good, Mr.Cameron is a good man, with lots of money. We need this.”

Eve looked up at her dad and nodded her head as she held the necklace he had made for her in her hand.

“I wouldn’t mess up anything for you, I don’t have it In me.”

The drive to Cameron's house felt longer than it should’ve. Watching the houses go from one to two stories, to green lawns to gated communities definitely made her rethink where they stayed.

Seeing her dad pull into the curved driveway, her eyes probably sparkling as she stared at the large house it led up to. That's why he dressed like he did. Of course they had to sit in the car and listen to her dads seven minute pep talk about what they can and cannot say, by the time it was time to go inside all her anxiety had bubbled up to a point she was scared she was going to really say something stupid now.

Carlos reached for the handle on the door and knocked, listening to the rhythm echo through the huge home in front of them. Eve fixed her posture as the door swung open, the man from earlier today having a wide smile on his face as he shook her dads hand and greeted her mom and sisters.

Forcing her smile once again as she greeted him, thanking him for inviting them to her home. The thank you wasn’t forced though, the house was huge. Probably the biggest place she’s ever been- in her life. Her eyes ran up the staircase that was right in front of the front door, her heels clicking against their floor as the adults quickly made their way into the kitchen area, already rambling on about the drive across the country and old farmland.

Eve walked into the living room area, the lights off and the moon shining through the windows. She walked closer to the large frames, looking out to see the breathtaking view, her hands resting at her sides as she heard the muffled conversation from the room over.

What could somebody possibly do for a job to be able to live like this? Her gaze switched from the window to the beautiful pottery on the small tables in the room, her fingers grazing over the table, way too scared to touch the pots in fear they would somehow crumble beneath her finger tips.

“Eve?”

Eves head turned instantly at the familiar voice, smiling slightly to see the girl she had met earlier today, in a beautiful orange dress, her hair curled as she smiled back at her.

“Sarah-“

She hurried over to her, laughing in confusion as she looked her up and down.

“You look- beautiful.”

Sarah smiled, tipping her head slightly as her hands pushed out to clap slightly.

“I mean look at you, I picked out the perfect dress right? This was the dinner you mentioned?”

Eve nodded awkwardly as she rubbed her arm, was this her family's house? How embarrassing she didn’t even know or remember their last name when she was asked about it earlier in the day.

“Ward is your dad?”

Eve asked as they started to walk to the dining room area.

“Yep. Sarah Cameron, that’s me.”

How awkward. Eve couldn’t help but admire the life that Sarah had laid in front of her, yet she was still so kind. Lost in her own thoughts, Eve was taken aback when Sarah grabbed her arm and stopped her just short of the dining room entrance.

“There’s this thing going on tonight, at my boyfriend's house. You should come. You can meet some people.”

Yeah, she was way too nice. Eve stared at her for a few seconds before she looked into the dining hall to see Ward and her dad laughing, Rose and her mom admiring each other's outfits.

“I don’t know.. my dad he’s super strict, never lets me leave the house.”

Sarah gave her an exasperated look, but before Eve could finish her protest, Sarah swept into the room.

“Where is Rafe?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough to catch Ward’s attention.

Ward looked up from the conversation he was having with Carlos, his brow furrowing slightly before waving a dismissive hand. “You know how he is,” he said with a chuckle, returning to the discussion about farmland and markets.

Eve shrugged, hoping that would be the end of it. Sarah shook her head and grabbed both of her arms.

“I’ll tell them that we met earlier today and we instantly clicked, you’re telling me your dad doesn’t want you making friends?”

“Who’s Rafe?”

The girl asked as a course was set in front of them, her stomach grumbling as she realized she really hadn’t eaten a single thing today.

Ward cut off Sarah as she went to speak.

“My son, told him we were having guests but unfortunately he missed your family's wonderful presence.”

Eve laughed as she took a bite of the food, her eyebrows frowning as she looked down at the plate, her hand covering her mouth.

“What is this? That’s delicious.”

The table laughed at her sincere reaction, silence lingering as everyone ate before Sarah chimed in.

“Dad, could Eve stay the night? I know it seems like we just met twenty minutes ago but we met earlier today down at the strip.”

Ward was a bit too enthusiastic to say yes, looking over at Carlos who was staring at Eve. Knowing he hated it when he was put on the spot for things like this.

“I have no problem with it all.”

What a horrible liar. Eve couldn’t help but smile as she looked over at Sarah, taking another bite of her food as she winked at her.

——————————————————————

“Don’t fall though”

Sarah gasped as Eve climbed down through the window holding onto the frame, the two laughing as they ran across the yard holding their shoes in their hands.

Once they got to the actual street, Sarah said it wasn’t far to her boyfriends house so the two walked down the sidewalk, the crickets almost as loud as them.

The walk was pretty silent, Sarah must’ve noticed Eve admiring all the big houses, her gaze constantly away from the road.

“You’re quiet,” she finally said, glancing over.

Eve shrugged, her eyes still fixed on the street ahead. “Just… admiring how different this place is from where I grew up.”

Sarah laughed, a sound as light as the breeze. “Yeah, it’s pretty here, I guess. But after a while, it all just feels… the same. You’ll see what I mean.”

Once the two showed up, Sarah tugged her through the crowd of people and let go of her, running over to a boy and jumping on his back, her mood quickly shifted once she jumped off his back and smacked the arm of another boy across from her, even though eve was far from the scene she could tell they were arguing.

Eve stepped forward, smiling slightly as she cleared her throat. Sarah’s gaze went from the boy back to her, sighing as she grabbed Eves shoulder.

“This is Eve,” Sarah said, her tone slightly clipped. “Her family just moved here. Her dad’s working with ours. Eve, this is Rafe.”

Rafe turned to her then, his blue eyes piercing as they met hers. For a moment, the noise around them faded, and all Eve could hear was her own heartbeat, he was tall, and he seemed slightly out of it, his eyes hazy and a lazy smirk on his face.

“Rafe,” he said, his voice low and smooth as he extended his hand.

“Eve,” she replied, slipping her hand into his. His grip was firm, his hand warm against hers, and the contact sent a strange jolt up her arm.

"She's from California," Sarah added quickly, her tone sharp as she stood next to Topper, who offered a casual nod and introduced himself without much enthusiasm.

"So, you're full Kook, huh? Must be expensive out there," Topper quipped with a smug grin, swirling the drink in his hand.

Eve furrowed her brows, confused. Kook? What was that supposed to mean?

"What's a Kook?" she asked, glancing between them.

Rafe chuckled low, his smirk growing as he took a deliberate sip of his drink. The way his blue eyes lingered on her made her feel like the punchline to an inside joke she wasn’t in on.

"Just... don’t worry about it," Sarah sighed, clearly exasperated as she stepped over to a small drink station. She poured a glass and handed it to Eve.

"Yeah," Rafe drawled, leaning against the wall with casual confidence. "Don’t trouble yourself with the losers down there in the Cut." His tone was smooth, but there was a distinct edge, as though he relished the jab.

Eve accepted the drink from Sarah, still trying to piece together what was going on. "The Cut? What’s that supposed to mean?"

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered under her breath, "Oh God, here we go..." before shooting a warning glance at Rafe.

"It means," Rafe said, stepping closer, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, "you’re better off sticking with the right crowd. You wouldn’t want to end up on the wrong side of town."

Eve narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the glass. The way he said it left a sour taste in her mouth, but before she could respond, Sarah cut in.

“Let me show you the view, it's insane.”

Sarah grabbed her arm, looking back at Rafe and Topper with a warning glance before she dragged Eve away.

Her grip on the drink tightened as a wave of embarrassment crept in. What did he mean by “the wrong side of town?” Was it obvious that she didn’t belong here?

Sarah’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s... complicated.”

Eve forced a smile, nodding even though she wasn’t sure what to say. “Complicated” was putting it lightly. She could still feel the weight of Rafe’s gaze, as if he’d peeled back a layer of her she wasn’t ready to share.

Sarah leaned against the railing of the porch, the wind blowing through her hair.

“Please really don’t take what Rafe, or what anybody says. A lot of them are pretty.. well dumb.”

Sarah and Eve laughed together, Sarah frowning slightly to see Eve swirl her drink around in her hand.

“I’ll be honest my dad had to drag me here, I left my whole life behind to be here.”

Eve spoke with a nod as she took a sip of the nasty mixed drink, licking her lips as Sarah nodded.

“I get it. You’re feeling out of place but it takes time, I promise you.”

Eve went to speak again but was cut off by the door swinging open. “

Sarah,” Rafe spoke with a sigh, his tone casual but somehow charged, “Kelce’s looking for you. Something about needing help with the keg.”

Sarah groaned, rubbing her forehead. “He’s a grown man; he can figure it out.”

“Yeah, well,” Rafe drawled, “he’s not doing a great job of proving that right now.”

Sarah gave Eve a small smile. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let him scare you.”

Eve tried to laugh, but it came out more as a nervous chuckle. As Sarah disappeared into the house, Eve found herself alone with Rafe.

[starsfic]

Monkie Kid prompt:

Nezha discusses his sacrifice against the dragon king with MK after the events of the pillar

(He seems like the right person to talk to about this with MK)

Anon: nezha seeing mk was yet another prophecy child of chaos, that would sacrifice himself for his family sake. He wishes he'd have listened to the group sooner, maybe they could of avoided that heartbreaking outcome had he just helped them from the beginning

Nezha’s death had never been discussed in the family since their welcome to the celestial court.

Some part of it may have been because they all had different things to do and stayed far from each other. Nezha had certainly made sure he was never really alone with Li Jing since then. It may have also been because that was what had been expected of him. Nezha had shamed the family, put their home at risk, and enraged the gods. 

If killing himself would deal with the problem…

Nezha absently wondered if, at least he and his brothers talked about it, he would stop having nightmares about it.

Qi Xiaotian was ready to have nightmares, he could tell.

In the aftermath of whatever happened at the pillar, Sun Wukong and his little band had gathered at the pig’s noodle shop. Nezha hung outside, unsure whether to knock or just go away. The windows were open, allowing him a peek inside the building.

Most of the mortals were talking, doing this and that, setting up the table or making food. A fresh pot of tea was being poured by the demon with the cat, Mo, who seemed content to just sit and watch, right next to Qi Xiaotian.

He was the only one sitting and seemed to be by himself, despite the room being filled with people. As Nezha watched, he could see at least one person look at him, try to smile, and look away, wiping away tears. Wukong looked visibly haunted as he cut and diced vegetables and fruits, wearing a loose hanfu Nezha hadn’t seen him wear in years. 

It only made the guilt in his chest sour even more.

Nezha crept to the door carefully and pushed the bamboo aside. His eyes met Xiaotian, who gave a start. “Nezha?”

It was enough for everyone to whirl around, teeth bared. He immediately held up his hands at the sight of Wukong and the knife. He knew, logically, that his friend-not-friend would never actually stab him, but Wukong’s glamor on his eyes was dropped and he was clearly upset and the logical thing at that to do was put his hands up. “Can I speak with you? In private?”

“No,” the pig said as Xiaotian said “Sure.”

“Kid-”

“If he does anything, you’ll probably hear,” Xiaotian said, standing up and picking up Mo. “I promise, I’m not going to do something stupid.”

Nezha’s mouth went dry at the words.

…It was more than he ever got.

Xiaotian walked out and led him to the mouth of an alleyway next to the shop. Mo squeezed his way out of his arms and settled on his shoulder, meowing at Nezha until he pet him. “I thought you were in Heaven already,” the mortal man said. “What brings you around?”

“You should go to therapy.”

The minute he said it, he was tempted to bang his head against the nearest wall. It was there, it was just a step away. He didn’t even give a hello! Xiaotian blinked, gaping at him. “Excuse me?”

“I- You should go to therapy,” Nezha said, deciding to dig down. “I…I’m starting therapy because when you offered to sacrifice yourself, I agreed with you.” He felt his hands clenched. “If I was in your place, I would have done it without a thought.”

“Then why do you make it sound like it’s a bad thing?” Xiaotian asked, not unkindly. “It’s the world.”

“Sometimes the world isn’t enough,” Nezha said, his thoughts scrambling together. “I killed myself to save my village.” Xiaotian’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t look surprised. It was, after all, an important part of his story, right next to the slaying of Ao Bing. “I thought, when I was resurrected, that I would be at peace or at least determined.” There was no regret, even now, and Nezha knew that wasn’t normal.

Xiaotian blinked. “But you just felt tired,” he guessed, drawing attention to the grey under his eyes.

“Yes,” Nezha nodded. Some urge seized him and he reached up, squeezing Xiaotian’s other shoulder. Mo reached out to sniff it. “You and I are a lot alike. I…worry that we may be similar in this as well. So, please.”

The warmth of the home seemed to increase.

“For the people who love you, take care of yourself.”

[wat3rm370n]

Jay Bhattacharya is anti-vax.

He's anti-vax for the same reason that Florida Man Ron Desantis is anti-vax even without Joe Ladapo.

https://wat3rm370n.tumblr.com/post/768897389699432448/florida-man-is-anti-vax

Being anti-mandate is anti-vax because vaccination is a community level public health measure. High uptake is what stems transmission. It’s how vaccines work best for everyone. So being against vaccine mandates is anti-vax. Being pro "natural infection" is also anti-vax.

Jay Bhattacharya AND Marty Makary also cavort with all sorts of anti-vaxxers, and someone pro-vax would not do that. If pushed, these people will go with the anti-vaxxers, because they already have, after all.

https://teamshuman.substack.com/p/trucker-convoy-adjacent-symposium

They all seem to be funded by the same big money too. All connected to fossil fuel at the heart of everything on the right and the money could explain a lot of that.

https://heated.world/p/ai-is-guzzling-gas

https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:ifcx5e6vwjvy2oqoynshleqv/post/3ldppcl2gpc2k

The connections are truly dizzying, and I've spent way way too much time connecting these dots, and most people do not want to hear it.

https://medium.com/@watermelonpunch.com/lefty-zine-promoting-right-wing-pseudoscience-protocols-of-an-expensive-concierge-clinic-f73b758dbbff

https://medium.com/@watermelonpunch.com/vaughn-what-team-is-he-actually-on-c4df1a3a8ae8

Generally eugenics is also anti-vax, because of pseudoscience fantasies about "evolution".

https://chloehumbert.substack.com/p/eugenics-as-an-ideology

The pain point here is that there are MANY Republican politicians and conservative voters who want vaccines and do not buy into anti-vax nonsense and want protection for themselves and their family.

Some of these pro-vaccination conservatives live in my neighborhood in Scranton Pennsylvania in fact. I remember many loud conversations in my neighborhood over hedges back in 2021, in fact. The average Republican who voted for Trump didn't vote to get rid of vaccines, they're not even paying attention to that extremely online crap. They just thought none of it mattered anymore because they're steeped in pro-biz disinfo and didn't think more broadly than "covid is no big deal anymore" (not realizing that it's partly because of vaccines that most Americans got initially but which wane in effectiveness over months and certainly years, and also partly because the entire political spectrum decided grandma had to be sacrificed to the false god The Economy, to appease violent anti-maskers, or at least in order to justify Fridays at the packed nightclub).

https://teamshuman.substack.com/p/journalist-trusts-right-wing-covid-denial

But one of the biggest problems is that the coalition is not so much a coalition of cranks, it's a coalition of high demand authoritarian groups (aka cults), many which favour eugenics ideology, and many that are anti-science unfortunately, and even worse, are run by a lot of people making money on selling quacky products linked to anti-vax disinfo. And these people are clearly ready to to sell their own snake oil.

https://www.nbcnews.com/health/health-news/trump-fbi-director-kash-patel-vaccine-detox-supplements-rcna182434

MIT Initiative on the Digital Economy - Thinker-Fest: Session 1 - Fireside Chat - How to Fix the “Splinternet” Mar 3, 2023

But as they say, online is not the totality of real life.

People need to start talking about vaccine uptake with their neighbors over the hedges again. We need billboards more than we need tweets or facebook ai slop and interacting with bots on bluesky while trapped in info cocoons and echo chamber silos created by manipulative block and subscribe lists.

https://chloehumbert.substack.com/p/grass-is-not-much-greener-on-blue-sky

https://www.rauhauser.net/p/blueskys-bubble-blues

https://sci-hub.se/10.1086/225469

Trumpism’s healthcare fracture-lines

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/20/clinical-trial-by-ordeal/#spoiled-his-brand-new-rattle

There was never any question as to whether Trump would implement Project 2025, the 900-page brick of terrifying and unhinged policy prescriptions edited by the Heritage Foundation. He would not implement it, because he could not implement it. No one could. It's impossible.

This isn't a statement about constitutional limits on executive authority or the realpolitik of getting bizarre and stupid policies past judges or through a hair-thin Congressional majority. This is a statement about the incoherence of Project 2025 itself. You probably haven't read it. Few have. Realistically, few people are going to read a 900-page group work of neofeudalist fanfic shit out by the most esoteric Fedsoc weirdos the world has ever seen.

But one person who did read Project 2025 was the leftist historian Rick Perlstein, who was the first person to really dig into what a fucking mess that thing is:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/14/fracture-lines/#disassembly-manual

Perlstein's excellent analysis doesn't claim that Project 2025's authors aren't sincere in their intentions to wreak great harm upon the nation and its people; rather, his point is that Project 2025 is filled with contradictory, mutually exclusive proposals written by people who fundamentally disagree with one another, and who each have enough power within the Trump coalition that all of thier proposals have to be included in a document like this:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-07-10-project-2025-republican-presidencies-tradition/

Project 2025 isn't just a guide to the masturbatory fantasies of the worst people in American politics – far more importantly, it is a detailed map of the fracture lines in the GOP coalition, the places where it is liable to split and shatter. This is an important point if you want to do more about Trumpism than run around feeling miserable and scared. If you want to fight, Project 2025 is a guide to the weak spots where an attack will do the most damage.

Perlstein's insight continues to be borne out as the Trump regime makes ready to take power. In a new story for KFF News, Stephanie Armour and Julie Rovner describe the irreconcilable differences among Trump's picks for the country's top public health authorities:

https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/trump-rfk-kennedy-health-hhs-fda-cdc-vaccines-covid-weldon/

The brain-worm-infected-elephant in the room is, of course, RFK Jr, who has been announced as Trump's head of Health and Human Services. RFK Jr is a notorious antivaxer, chairman of Children’s Health Defense, a notorious anti-vaccine group. Kennedy's view is shared by Trump's chosen CDC boss, Dave Weldon, a physician who has repeated the dangerous lie that vaccinations cause autism. Mehmet "Dr Oz" Oz, the TV "physician" Trump wants to put in charge of Medicare/Medicaid, calls vaccines "oversold" and advocates for treating covid with hydroxychloroquine, another thoroughly debunked hoax:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/health/2024/12/17/hydroxychloroquine-study-covid-19-retracted-trump/77051671007/

However, other top Trump public health picks emphatically support vaccines. Marty Makary is Trump's choice for FDA commissioner; he's a Johns Hopkins trained surgeon who says vaccines "save lives" (but he peddles the lethal, unscientific hoax that childhood vaccines should be "spread out"). Jay Bhattacharya, the economist/MD whom Trump wants to put in charge of the NIH, supports vaccines (he is also one of the country's leading proponents of the eugenicist idea of accepting the mass death of elderly, sick and disabled people rather than imposing quarantines during epidemics). Then there's Janette Nesheiwat, whom Trump has asked to serve as the nation's surgeon general; she calls vaccines "a gift from God."

Like "Bidenism," Trumpism is a fragile coalition of people who thoroughly and irreconcilably disagree with one another. During the Biden administration, this resulted in self-inflicted injuries like appointing the brilliant trustbuster Lina Khan to run the FTC, but also appointing the pro-monopoly corporate lawyer Jacqueline Scott Corley to a lifetime seat as a federal judge, from which perch she ruled against Khan's no-brainer suit to block the Microsoft-Activision merger:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/judge-rules-for-microsoft-mergers

The Trump coalition is even broader than the Biden coalition. That's how he won the 2024 election. But that also means that Trumpism is more fractious and off-balance, and hence will be easier to disrupt, because it is riven by people in senior positions who hate one another and are actively working for each others' political demise.

The Trump coalition is a coalition of *cranks*. I'm using "crank" here in a technical, non-pejorative sense. I am a crank, after all. A crank is someone who is overwhelmingly passionate about a single issue, whose uncrossable bright lines are not broadly shared. Cranks can be right or they can be wrong, but we're hard to be in coalition with, because we are uncompromisingly passionate about things that other people largely don't even notice, let alone care about. You can be a crank whose single issue is eliminating water fluoridation, even though this is very, very stupid and dangerous:

https://yourlocalepidemiologist.substack.com/p/the-fluoride-debate

Or you can be a crank about digital rights, a subject that, for decades, was viewed as by turns either unserious or as a sneaky way of shilling for Big Tech (thankfully, that's changing):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/18/greetings-fellow-pirates/#arrrrrrrrrr

Cranks make hard coalition partners. Trump's cranks are cranked up about different things - vaccines, culture war trans panics, eugenics - and are total normies about other things. The eugenicist MD/economist who wants to "let 'er rip" rather than engage in nonpharmaceutical pandemic interventions is gonna be horrified by total abortion bans and antivax. These cranks are on a collision course with one another.

This is on prominent display in these public health appointments, and we're very likely about to get a test of the cohesiveness and capability of the second Trump administration, thanks to bird flu. Now that bird flu has infected humans in multiple US states, there is every chance that we will have to confront a public health emergency in the coming weeks. If that happens, the Trump public health divisions over masking, quarantine and (especially) vaccines (Kennedy called the covid vaccine the "deadliest" ever made, without any evidence) will become the most important issue in the country, under constant and pitiless scrutiny, and criticism.

Trump's public health shambles is by no means unique. The lesson of Project 2025 is that the entire Trump project is one factional squabble away from collapse at all times.

[weministertomonsters]

The Alien Emissary

Or, It's Hard To Be An Emissary When Everything In Space Hates You

➤ Wordcount - 1.9k (ignore the double spacing, the format always gets fucked when I write on my phone. I'll fix it later!)

──────────────────

Sweat drips down your temple as you yank the decelerator on the shiny new spacecraft you just stole from a bunch of angry aliens. When your superior broke protocol to squeeze every last drop of advantage out of the deal, the alien race you were negotiating with decided to solve the problem by lighting his ass on fire. Bye, Frank. The show of aggression made everyone trigger-happy, and within seconds, bullets were flying on what had once been neutral ground.

You’re not built for warfare. Your expertise lies in intergalactic extraterrestrial correspondence, preferably from the safety of a comfy spaceship. So you hauled ass and ran for shelter, which just so happened to be the Vathri shuttle; a smallish, compact transportation vehicle nowhere near as flashy as one of their motherships. You had no trouble finding the cockpit and silently thanked the stars for your former career in piloting as you got the shuttle off the ground.

Before the Vathri could notice what was happening, you had sealed the entrance ports to keep them out. There was plenty of spear-waving and shard-snapping, but none of them want to attack their own spacecraft, so you took off without a hitch. By the time they realized you’d taken their only mode of transportation, it was too late. You can only hope they have another way to call their mothership for a ride. You're not too worried because the tech-savvy Vathri are probably already tracking you, thirsting for blood.

You wipe the sweat from your brow and drop into the pilot’s seat, scanning the unfamiliar controls for a tracking system to make sure they can't locate you too easily. Despite your piloting experience, the Vathri controls are difficult to decipher, like trying to use a keyboard made for a foreign language. Every dial and button looks like a potential disaster. Two buttons in particular catch your attention—a blinking red one, ominous and foreboding, placed next to a glowy green button. Some real Matrix-level bullshit. After a moment’s hesitation, you reach for the green button.

A fuzzy sound echoes over the intercom, followed by a glitchy, deep voice: “Inadvisable.”

Well, shit.

“Who’s this? Are you the system?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder just in case. The voice came through the speakers, and there’s no one behind you.

The response takes a moment, but the voice comes again. "No."

"Who are you? Are you one of them?"

"Partially."

"What does that mean?"

"I am Vathri, but I am not with this contingent."

"Um, how's that?" You manage to find the hover feature and turn it on, multitasking figuring the shuttle out and talking to the voice.

"I am a prisoner of the Vathri State."

"Wait, so you're on this shuttle?" Your eyes widen in alarm.

"How else would we be in conversation? I am chained in the hold."

"Great, then stay there. The last thing I want to add to my list of crimes is assisting in a jailbreak," you mutter.

Now that you're hovering, the last thing you want is something sneaking up on you. There are much worse things than the Vathri out here. The Vathri you're talking to takes so long to speak again that you almost forget about it as you search the compartments on the dashboard for a manual. Unlikely, but you're not one to go without checking these kinds of things. Everything is scrupulously clean. There are even any bits and bobs in the compartments. The small square screen in front of you looks like it's for scoping, so you turn that on. Bingo. Your surroundings blink on the screen, which is nice and empty.

"A platoon of Vathri is headed your way," the intercom buzzes. "And they make haste."

"No!" You look at the screen and the prisoner is right.

An indicator has just shown up on the radar and it's coming up fast. The system beeps politely to let you know. You grab the controls and kick the little spacecraft into gear. You might not know A from B, but you do know how to fly things in general. The shuttle shoots forward smooth as butter sliding across a hot plate, and you grapple with the steering, which suddenly seems to have a mind of its own.

"Careful," you mutter, leaning back in the seat and reminding yourself to breathe.

You haven't got a helmet on to enhance your vision, so you have to rely on your human eyesight and just pray you don't fly straight into asteroid spray. There's probably a mode for that on the scoping system but it's beyond your understanding. You can't just mash buttons and hope something goes well. You're sweating again.

"I can assist you."

"I'm handling it," you snap, jolting in your seat. Your almost forgotten about them. "We're fine."

"You have little knowledge of the controls and have effectively made this spacecraft a potential coffin."

"How are you seeing what I'm doing anyway?" You demand, taking a hard right.

The shuttle wheels around so sharply that it does a neat little flip over your pursuers. There's a thump in the hold, and you wince.

"I guess you're not strapped in. Sorry," you mutter. You can't help but gasp when you see the behemoth of a ship that's after you. It's black and the gloss on the exterior makes it look slippery. It's clearly meant for stealth and packed with heavy artillery. The spiked flare on top resembles a shark's fin, and you nearly shear the hull of the shuttle open on it. That's how close the ship is.

"Shit!" You scream. "What the fuck is that?"

"A Deathglider," the imprisoned Vathri says. Their voice sounds far away. "Calm yourself, human. You will lose control."

"That thing is massive! Oh my god, I'm so fucked," you moan, pushing the acceleration as high as it can go.

The Deathglider is too big for quick turns, but it has triple the thrusters and once it curves around, it's quickly gaining on you again.

"I can pilot the craft."

"Not a chance!" You snap. "I'm managing!"

Indeed, you are. If you can turn the correct scoping mode on, you might be able to lose them in an asteroid field. If your sense of direction is still holding true, then you know from the briefing earlier today that there's one nearby. You're confident you can pull it off up until the Deathglider starts shooting at you. The first shot misses by a good twenty feet—or maybe that was a warning—and your mouth falls open as you see the metal shaft of the bullet burning past the cockpit window.

"I'm human, you assholes!" You holler into the air. "I made a mistake, but I'm not that big of a threat! Stop with the missiles!"

"I do not believe they are much interested in you."

"Oh yeah? Then why in the blazes..."

"That was for me."

You gasp and steer to the left as the Deathglider takes a second shot. Another near miss; and now the system is giving you a warning of the engine overheating. Your ride isn't meant to accelerate this fast and for so long.

"What the hell did you even do, kill the Queen?" You demand. "Why do you have a army after you?"

"I fucked the Princess."

"Come again?"

"Is that not the word you use? To fuck—"

"I heard you the first time! I thought you were joking!" You screech.

"They are almost upon us. Let me help you."

This entire time, the Vathri's voice has remained at the same eerily unaffected pitch. If they're scared of dying in an exploding ball of shrapnel, they don't sound like it. You give up trying to do this alone when the next shot takes out one of the thrusters. Luckily, it clips clean off instead of going up in a fiery blaze, but unless there's a miracle, the shuttle will soon be dead in the black water of space.

"Tell me what to do," you say.

"Press the third button to the left of the scoping system. It will mask us. Then turn and fly underneath the Deathglider. It will buy us a few minutes. Long enough to unlock my—"

"Okay, third button, got it." You're panting as the system starts making a blaring sound to warn you of the incoming projectile which is a huge ship hurtling towards you.

You press the button, flip the shuttle over, and dip under the Deathglider with what feels like moments to spare. You book it in the other direction, so concentrated on getting away that it takes you a while to notice that everything is invisible. Including yourself. The visual of space stretching above and beneath you, sparkling with stars, is impossibly beautiful. At the same time, not being able to see your body creates a disconnect with your brain, and your vision starts to go all funny.

"Press the red button!" Finally, there's some haste in that voice. You feel a warm ping of smugness.

"Huh... What button?" You mumble as your ears pop from the pressure. "What?"

"The red-" What comes after that is a jumble of Vathri that grates in your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

It's just enough to prevent you from falling asleep and remind you that you're in some kind of danger. The Vathri told you to do something... Your body moves like it's in a pool of syrup. You know your hands are there somewhere, but you can't see them and everything feels numb. You pat the invisible dashboard, poking at things. You press something and the shuttle powers down and starts to float, tipping belly-up like a bloated fish. With what feels like the last of your energy, you smack your hand down in the spot where you remember the red button to be.

Nothing happens, or so you think. Your eyes start to close. You're strapped into the seat, but it feels like the seatbelt came loose at some point and you're slipping. Your head seems to be drifting away from your body. Suddenly, blinding lights sting your eyes, which snap open and stream with prickling pain. You're coughing and gasping for air as the pressure lifts off of you and you're able to breathe again. The interior has returned, and the scenery of space is whizzing by outside the window as the shuttle flies. You unclip your seatbelt and stand, bumping into something.

It takes a moment for your vision to connect to your brain, which fires up with an enthusiastic thought: that's an absolute unit of an alien. The imprisoned Vathri is now standing right in front of you, leaning over the controls. You did it, you set him free. Your movements still feel a little wobbly, so when you lean in to see what he's doing, you sort of tip off balance against his side. He's warm and it's nice. He glances at you.

"Did you do it? Are we safe?" You ask.

"We have bought ourselves a few hours." He straightens and turns to you. "I apologize for the oversight with the cloaking. I did not realize it would affect you so."

"It's nothing a few minutes won't fix," you reply woozily.

Famous last words, because you end up passing out.

──────────────────

I'm aliveee! Passing out is the easiest way to close a scene but I think I use it too often. Oops? Also, are the spaceship shenanigans accurate to scifi? Don't know, don't care. I had lots of fun writing it and I intend to write more. I have another story somewhere that is very similar to this one. They're kind of the same idea that I just keep sort of rewriting until I'm happy with it? I think I'm happy with it now.

[cravingpepsimax]

i think a lot of the reason why antishippers have been so much more of a problem recently is bc everyone assumes that if you say something sucks or even just voice personal dislike, it has to be because it is somehow Morally Bad, or else you’re being an asshole. and that means a lot of people end up relying on disgust as a moral compass, which is a terrible way to define one’s morality!

like, obviously, i’m not saying people should harass people or make cringe blogs or whatever. but i think someone should be able to like. joke with their friends about seeing something and going “ew” without having to do the seinfeld “NOT THAT THERE’S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT” bit. or say they think some kind of art is bad without having to be like “it’s ok if you like it!! it’s just not for me”

because it’s not that the sentiment being expressed is bad, being able to think something is bad or gross and not deciding no one should like it ever is good and important. it’s the fact that it’s even mentioned in the first place. when someone says “x is bad/gross”, the default assumption should be “they are expressing their own opinion/reaction to it”. you should have to SPECIFY if you are doing some kind of moral analysis of the work, or the fetish, or the ship, or what-have-you, but that’s assumed to be the default meaning! why??

if i say “alice x bob is a bad ship”, and you respond with “there’s nothing wrong with alice x bob!”, you are Not making an argument, and you are assuming that i am assigning some kind of moral judgement to alice x bob. something being of poor quality and something being evil are two different things