#I am making a cultural complaint

[the---hermit]

Not me adding annotations to a book to make it more accessible for my mom when she will read it

[inkedmyths]

Yknow, I do think some of the criticisms about modern vampire media I've seen going around lately are valid in their analysis, but also they simultaneously annoy me, yknow what I mean?

Because yeah sure taking the classic weaknesses out of a vampire can really lessen the impact of what they are and make them overpowered and imbalanced. Yes they were often a metaphor for the upper class and their lifestyles and exploitation. These are valid and fair points! And should be considered!

But so many of these posts are solely looking at the Bram Stoker interpretation of a vampire, and having that be The Only Thing That's Actually A Vampire, and I find that. Kind of irritating and slightly condescending sometimes.

There are all kinds of stories of vampires or blood-drinking monsters from around the world that vary wildly in appearance, abilities and weaknesses. This isn't really a new thing, nobody was ever able to agree on a Set of All Encompassing Rules, some stuff was more common than other rules but not necessarily universal, you get the idea

Plus, like, vampires (and other monsters too!) have been used for a MYRIAD of metaphors, so just the one isn't like, a catch all.

Thirdly and finally idk man I think it has the same vibe as those art videos that are like "Things artists draw WRONG ALL THE TIME! FIXING ART" or "How to Not Make A Mary Sue"

[bucephaly]

congratulations on reconnecting with your cherokee ancestry!!!!! if it's not too nosy could i ask how you got started on this journey? did you know you had native ancestors and decided to look more into it?

Thank you !! It's not nosy! I'll put it under a cut cuz idk how long it'll get

So honestly no, I didn't really know. It's on my dad's dad's side and I never knew him. My grandma divorced my grandpa when my dad was around 10 and his step dad adopted him. Plus he never really talks about or to his family much and I'm only just now getting back in touch with my aunts on facebook

I just remember once my grandma telling me my dad had Cherokee ancestry, and I ignored it cuz i was so sure it was the same granny story everyone around here [in the south] has lol. [I didn't know at the time that my dad was born in WA and his dad was from there, my g grandad moved from OK to WA in the 40s, idk why]

Then later I asked and he messages one of his sisters, who said that their dad went to OK and found that 'his great grandma came off the reservation' and so they assumed my dad was 1/16 and me and my siblings were 1/32 [not true], which they somehow got in their head was 'the lowest the tribe still recognizes' lmao [also not true, if you have an ancestor on the dawes roll you're eligible for CNO citizenship]

Anyway, about a year ago I started doing research on ancestry [my mom luckily had a membership] and I quickly found that my gg grandad and his dad are both on the dawes rolls, the later of whom was a baby during the trail of tears. I'm also a Nancy Ward descendent

I found all this a year ago, got excited for a bit and kept going wildly back and forth abt whether I had any right to reclaim that identity, seeing as how I'm 1: very thin blood and 2: white, but I am eligible for CNO citizenship, but I didn't even know I was until then, but I'd love to learn more, etc etc etc. I kept talking myself out of it saying 'nah dude shut up you're white and you'd be taking resources and shit from others if you went around calling yourself cherokee'

So a year passed and something got me looking into it again abt a month ago, I looked at r/cherokee on reddit and saw some folks being pointed towards a cherokee genealogy Facebook group + people saying that yea anyone who has a documented ancestor on the dawes roll is valid to reconnect etc etc

So I got research done in the genealogy page and everyone was so welcoming, I got invited to a group of Nancy ward descendants, I got into the main cherokee Facebook group and I'm seeing how welcoming everyone in there is etc.. and I'm working on getting documents together to apply for citizenship! [Which is a massive pain since my dad was adopted, those documents are hard to get] and now I'm finally feeling like I can claim that identity ! Obviously I'm not a citizen yet but I'm working on it, and I have no doubt I'll be granted citizenship barring some sort of documentation mishap.

Obviously I'm still learning and reconnecting and I'm also white, I don't claim to know anything abt anything, nor do I claim any sort of oppression or whatever lmao, I'm just learning more and I'm really excited about it! I'm grateful to the cherokee groups I'm in for being so welcoming and open to 'lost' cherokees that were disconnected [and note these are legit groups, like ones that are exclusive to those who are citizens or can prove that they are documented descendants, not some random bullshit Facebook group haha]

I'm also learning the language some! So far I only know a few words and the syllabary, but I plan to jump into the live language classes when they start again in fall.

ᏩᏙ! Thanks for the ask! I'm glad you did ask because I know it's common to just sorta claim cherokee ancestry so I've wanted to explain and all.

[grison-in-space]

from the number of asinine complaints about how "voting is NOT a form of harm reduction" because harm reduction is for ADDICTS! ONLY! I'm seeing around... all coming from OP blogs I don't recognize and which otherwise don't have much presence... well, that coordination alongside the timing of US politics sure feels like the Russian troll bots agitating again. (Yes, they absolutely infested Tumblr; I think @ms-demeanor had a great post about what the bots looked and felt like somewhere that I will have to try and track down tomorrow.)

The thing is, if you actually do know harm reduction well, the complaint makes no sense. It's not as if the origin of harm reduction is a secret or especially hard to find out more about. I am not exactly an expert in the field: I have a educated layperson's interest in public health and infectious disease, I'm a queer feminist of a certain age and therefore have a certain degree of familiarity with AIDS-driven safer sex campaigns, and I'm interested in disability history and self advocacy (and I would in fact clarify harm reduction as a philosophy under this umbrella). So I have about twenty years of experience with harm reduction as a philosophy basically by existing in communities whose history is intertwined with harm reduction, which means I know it well from many different angles, and I know how the story of the philosophy is generally taught.

See, this is a story that starts, as so many stories do, in the 1980s with something monstrous President Reagan was doing. In this case, it was the AIDS epidemic, and Reagan refusing to devote any money or time to what eventually became called AIDS (rather than the original GRIDS, which came with its own baked in homophobia). Knowing themselves abandoned by society in this as in all things, and watching as friends and loved ones died in droves, queers and addicts are two communities who see that they are the only resources that they collectively have to save each other's lives. Queers know that sex, even casual sex, is an important part of people's lives and culture... and people aren't going to stop doing it even if there's a disease, so how can it happen safely? Condoms. Condoms every time, freely available, easy and shameless, shower them on people in the street if you have to. (And other things: this is the origin of the concept of "fluid bonding", for example... both of which were concepts that were immediately adopted in response to COVID, like outdoor socially distsnced greetings and masks and "bubbles." That wasn't an accident. Normalizing sexual health tests and seeing hard results on paper before sex was a thing, too.)

Addicts, too, knew that using was going to happen no matter how earnestly people tried to stop. If it was that easy, addiction wouldn't exist. So: how do you make using safer for longer? If you could stop someone getting HIV before they could bring themselves to get clean, that's a whole life right there. If you could stop someone overdosing once, twice, a dozen times, that's more time you're buying them to claw themselves out of addiction and into a better place. Addicts see, right, needle sharing is getting the diseases spread, so cut down on needle sharing. Well, needles aren't easy to get hold of. Their supply is controlled because people who aren't prescribed needles are theoretically junkies, so taking the needles away makes it harder to use, right— and no one is complicit, and also you see fewer discarded needles lying around where they're unsanitary and unsafe, right? Except that people want to do a buddy a good turn, so they share if there's no other option, and they'll keep a needle going until it's literally too blunt to keep using if need be. So fighting needle sharing means making it easier to get needles to shoot up with: finding a place to discard used ones and get as many fresh ones as you need to use safely!

Making free needles available to junkies and free condoms for the bathhouses was not a popular solution with politicians, for perhaps obvious reasons. Nor was routine testing of the blood supply, because that cost money too. But these things work to stop the spread of disease. Thus the principle of harm reduction: policy interventions in response to communities that frequently engage in risky behavior should focus on whatever reduces aggregate harm by reducing the risk rather than by trying to reduce the behavior. The homos and junkies say look, all your societal judgement in the world hasn't stopped us being homos and junkies yet. You ain't going to look after us? We'll look after our own. And this is the form that takes. Not increasing the pressure to act like people who aren't is, but making it safer to be the people we are while we try to be the happiest versions of ourselves. Even if that means being morally complicit in a whole lot of casual sex and drug abuse.

The thing is, harm reduction is a philosophy rooted in the defiance of people who knew that their society thought they deserved to die painfully, young, invisible and alone. This is not the kind of thing that people come up with and get mad if you adapt it and share it, especially if you tell the story of where it came from. And importantly, harm reduction is not purely the child of addiction: that philosophy, from the get go, was cooked up to apply both to substance abuse and casual sex. It didn't just spread from addiction care; it was born straddling addiction care and queer & feminist health care.

So it doesn't make sense to see actual activists who know harm reduction well complaining that this is a term exhibiting semantic drift when we talk about voting as harm reduction. It's actually a good metaphor: you're reducing the overall risk of the worst case scenario metaphors by voting Democrat, at least until future votes can install a system where multiple parties can flourish on the political scheme. (Democrats and Republicans are essentially coalitions of a pack of arguing factions anyway, and those factions are essentially what would be classed elsewhere as a party in its own right; the US essentially just lumps political granularity rather than splitting it in our political system.) And anyone who understands harm reduction itself knows that.

So it's this wildly inorganic complaint being voiced repeatedly by different sources. Sounds like a pretty good flag for a potential psyop to me.

If you want to learn more about harm reduction and its history, especially from an addiction perspective, I cannot recommend Maia Szalavitz's Undoing Drugs: How Harm Reduction is Changing the Future of Drugs and Addiction (2022) highly enough. Szalavitz has a history of addiction of her own as well as being a clear and accessible writer with an excellent grasp of neuroscience and history. I have a lot of respect for her work.

[yuri-is-online]

Why So Rude? (Or Yuu's BF Asks Crewel for their Hand in Marriage and What Happens Next Will Shock You)

For legal reasons, this is a joke. I have been dealing with a health issue of sorts (i am not dying so no worrying ok? just v annoyed) so writing longer stuff is escaping me at the moment, enjoy some crack while I take a breather. More can be found on my masterlist here.

NO (FLOYD, Rook, and Malleus)

Crewel has been in denial about this "relationship" since it started. Not that his disapproval is really going to stop Floyd, but Crewel 100% refers to him as "Yuu's ex boyfriend" much to the confusion of... everyone who hears that. They do find some common ground in their shared interest in fashion, but Crewel has never forgiven him for his behavior in his class OR his "stealing" Yuu's heart.

Rook on the other hand he didn't have too much of an issue with until he realized just how familiar he seemed to be with his home for someone who had supposedly only been there to visit you. The twenty page letter he wrote to confess his feelings to you didn't help either once he saw the few lines where Rook wrote about the beauty of your finger prints, but he knows his disapproval means very little to someone as obsessed with romance as Rook.

Malleus... is the King of a country genuinely hostile to humans and Crewel thinks he is a little too obsessed with Yuu for his own good. He is also not a fan of how condescending Malleus is towards his disapproval, but it's an issue that will be worked out eventually. They are fighting out of love for the same person, your safety and happiness is all they really care about at the end of the day.

No, but as a joke (Sebek and Jack)

I don't think he has anything against him really, he just wants to see how important tradition and the opinion of his elders actually is to him. When Sebek begins to plead his case because he does not wish to put a wedge between Yuu and their father figure, but cannot deny his feelings for Yuu Crewel's more than happy to "change his mind." He knows you will be happy and well looked after.

Jack is a solid partner, and he is a wolf beastman who speaks of Yuu as his soulmate, his one and only, his eternal life partner and- well. Crewel just can't resist a bit of teasing, he's always been so serious and easy to fluster about these sort of things. The sheepish look on his face when he realizes Crewel has been teasing him makes it very worth it.

I can't stop you can I... (Leona, Kalim, and Rollo)

While Crewel has faith that Leona has what it takes to save his home- he lives in the Sunset Savannah. That is really far away from the Queendom of Roses ( ; ω ; ) have some pity on your poor father he can't travel that far all the time it's bad for his skin. The pressures of being the partner of royalty is something he worries over, but a smug promise from Leona to protect you soothes his worries somewhat.

The flippant way Kalim talks about the assassination attempts is not the way Crewel wants to hear about attempts on your life or heaven forbid your death. Kalim is very sympathetic to this, he has no real argument against how ignorant he was in the past, but he isn't a child anymore. Just filled with a childlike love for the world and determination to make it better. It is hard to say no to that.

Rollo is too much like Trein. His request for your hand in marriage feels like something that the old man would cry tears of genuine joy over, so of course he hates it. Unfortunately he also knows how much this teen grandfather matters to you or whatever so the answer will be yes. At least he has an excuse to visit Fleur City more now.

Give me one good reason. (Azul, Jade, Idia, and Lilia)

Azul was such a good student that he should have zero complaints that you started dating. But he also isn't blind and dislikes being pandered to, which is very much what Azul is doing here. He does wonder briefly if this is a cultural thing and he is being insensitive, but he is still exasperated enough to not immediately say yes. The strange twinkle that comes to Azul's eyes at the prospect of negotiations makes him wish he had though.

Speaking of not being blind, what does the Leech family do and is it legal? Survey says probably yes, but Crewel remembers dealing with Jade's parents while he was in school and has no desire to feed his child to the shar- err eels. Jade immediately begins to sniffle, oh how could Crewel say such bad things about him? A poor innocent eel and blah blah blah. If Jade wasn't such a good partner he'd be cooked.

Crewel understands and appreciates the effort Idia has put in to his personal growth and he has no desire to shit on that... but S.T.Y.X. and the secrecy around it is no joke. He wants to continue having a relationship with Yuu and as soon as Idia reassures him of that he has no more objections.

Lilia is an old man, a war criminal, and a father. Of course Crewel has seen how he was able to live as a student while at NRC but his own credit as a father would be under fire if he didn't object mildly. Lilia has some fun with it and has a bit more respect for him for objecting. So long as the eventual answer is yes.

Yes (Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ruggie, Jamil, and Epel)

While Crewel does have some red flag concerns concerning Riddle's mother, he has no real objections to Riddle himself. He is a perfect gentlemen and the correct amount of nervous to be asking the question. He gets full marks, as if there would ever be any other outcome.

Trey is that sort of solid option that parents really love, but he also has that tight personal relationship with Crewel from his Science Club days. He lives in the Queendom and is tight with his own family there are few better places for Yuu to be.

While Cater isn't Crewel's favorite student, he doesn't hate him or the Shaftlands. He is also not entirely unconvinced that him asking is for a magicam trend but! He has no real major objections. He is more than ready to have two kids, as soon as Cater is willing to admit he could use a stable father figure.

I don't think that Ruggie would even suggest marrige unless he's obtained that stable, high paying job he so baldy wants and has moved his Granny out of the slums. It's the perfect time to ask for permission to propose, and while the Savannah is still super far away (r.i.p. Crewel's skin) he is much more supportive of the two of you and how far you've come.

Similarly to Ruggie, I don't think Jamil would propose to Yuu unless his personal issues with Kalim and his position with the Asim's had been sorted. He wants to actually travel on his honeymoon, and Crewel is very willing to suggest the Queendom of Roses. Jamil's ego is absolutely stroked by how Crewel had zero objections but your adoptive dad doesn't get to see how smug it makes him, Jamil saves the smirks for when you say yes.

I think that Crewel seems to like all of the first years, and Epel is no exception. Sure, his request starts out well put together and polite but devolves into a dialect that leaves Crewel with no idea of what he's saying, but he has a general idea. Of course Epel has his blessing, Harveston sounds like a lovely place for Yuu to live their life in Twisted Wonderland and Epel a perfect person to keep them safe and happy.

He already planned the wedding (Ace, Deuce, Silver and Vil)

I know what you're saying. Crewel approving of Ace? Of course he does! He was in his homeroom class, and Crewel has a soft spot for trouble makers from the Queendom, he was one after all! Sure he might have had some problems with him when you first started dating, but now, when he is deathly serious saying he wants to spend the rest of his life with you? Crewel has been waiting for this since he fist saw carrot head yanking your chain.

Deuce is a much easier sell, Crewel was always a bit harsh on his intelligence, but only because he ran a tight ship and wanted him to reach for the stars. Well he has, and he has you to support him through it, Crewel is so proud of both. He and Dilla have absolutely been hypothetically planning this for years.

While Silver's curse did not endear him to Crewel for his first two years of schooling, he really grew on him when you started going out. He's glad that you've found someone who loves you as much as Silver does, really he is. Unfortunately this means he has to plan a wedding with Lilia, something they both have been doing since you started going out and never talked about. Don't worry! They only intend to fight a lot little bit.

The instant you started dating Vil Crewel entered his mother of the bride era. The permission asking was less Vil wanting to be polite and more him coming up with a way to distract him and convince him to focus on designing the clothes. Thankfully it works and no one other than his dogs have to know just how insane the prospect of his two favorite students marrying made him.

[b00tyliciousbabe]

da vinci

pairing: dacre montgomery x male reader

summary: just the actor fawning over the abundance in your cultural capital.

request: @gayaristocrat YOU ARE THE VISUSLS BBY! thanks sm for your patience, plus the anon who also requested a while back, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing.

notes: happy pride! after FINALLY handing in my art coursework, this is my projection onto the character of the reader. never will i ever pick up another paintbrush - well…also officially finished my exams now so i am a slut for y’all’s requests! flood my inbox (but more importantly my hole) xx

song rec: naomi sharon - definition of love

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

dating dacre was nothing short of a dream. he always made you feel so at ease. he loved how creative you were - the perfect match to his inner theatre kid. taking him to fashion exhibitions + poetry slams, and the actor inviting you to theatre shows, seeing the world through each others’ eyes made the time together even more precious. you first met at a ballet show. he had been dragged to see it by a few of his castmates, but was more so enjoying the bts view of you with the dancers. you were backstage fitting all the dancers and making sure they were all comfortable in what you styled. he managed to peek behind the curtain and saw your beautiful, so focused on draping the fabric of the lead’s skirt.

fuck, you were fine.

but he didn’t think much of it, just some cute guy, with beautiful eyes, who probably had a boyfriend. he took his seat and watched it with his friends. one of them was engaged to one of the dancers and so took dacre to the dressing rooms after the show. after introducing the two of you, y’all were practically drooling over each other. barely a word was said between you, but your hearts’ communicated greater feelings than mere speech ever could. they say love at first sight is something for the big screen, but your initial encounter rivalled the biggest stories of romance any writer could ever craft.

from that night, you practically were together, with the tabloids plastering the two of you holding hands, yachting in capri. the pop culture side of twitter was OBSESSED with your relationship to the actor and was in constant awe with how perfect you guys were for each other.

y/nsupremacy: you guys make my heart smile

user111: they’d make such cute babies

dacrefanclub6: sexiest couple on the internet

there was even a time where he had to do a nude scene in an upcoming blockbuster and the whole world saw how much your man was packing. in his press tour, the panel of interviewers didn’t shy away from your bf’s HUGE deal, some even made inappropriate comments.

‘god bless bottoms like y/n, he be taking that shit better than a pornstar’

‘poor y/n, how does that thing even fit?’

‘checks out…big booty bitches y/n deserves to be fucked by hung men.’

dacre was afraid that you would feel uncomfortable with the constant media comments on your thickness, but he had nothing to fear. you embraced it, you were said to have the best bod in fashion. as much as he tried to keep his life with you private, he lowkey wanted to let the world know that how much of a good boy you were for him.

dacre: ‘in all fairness i ain’t had any complaints from him so…’

dacre: ‘but…our neighbours definitely hate us.’ he remarks with a devilish grin.

everyone was rooting for your relationship, and what better way to show this than him enlisting the joint troops of your fandoms to surprise you whilst you were working in paris. he had gotten some time away from filming and decided to come and visit your atelier in paris. sprawled out on your desk, with needles and materials adorning the creative canvas of the room, he saw you hard at work. with the same vein poking through your forehead as the first time he laid eyes on your angelic physique, he could’ve fallen in love all over again.

‘hey babe’ he came up to you with flowers. ‘you look ravishing tonight’ rolling his r’s with a tenacity that made you smile. his tone always made you feel so safe.

‘i ain’t even dressed yet,’ you protest, dusting off the loose threads and sequins from your sweats. ‘you’re beautiful in whatever you wear,’ coming closer and gripping underneath your butt, ‘even prettier with less on.’ dacre quips as his lips tickle your ear.

‘dacre stop,’ you laugh out. ‘that giggle of yours is so infectious.’ he crashes his lips into you, the flowers dropping haphazardly onto the desk as he pushed his tongue deeper.

he was wearing the blazer you had designed for his birthday last year, paired with a pendant necklace with the first initial of your name on it. he looked so sexy. ‘can’t seem to keep my hands off off of you.’ he breathed, nudging his jacket off.

‘nuh uh, we have dinner reservations.’ nudging him away.

‘fuck. why’d you gotta be so damn sexy?’ he sounded aggravated but you pecked him again, ‘don’t worry, i am all yours tonight.’

taking you to the balcony of a quaint, parisian bistro, the chill of the capital’s air made the two of you even more enamoured, your hearts burning passionately. whilst eating, you got some sauce on the corner of your lips, as he pushes it back into your mouth. ‘gotta get you used to the feeling of a foreign object in your mouth before tonight, don’t i?’ dacre always loved being dirty in public and you made sure to satiate his exhibitionist kink.

after many glasses of wine, you made your way to the louvre. with your many contacts you managed to snag an after hours tour - solo. you were much more of a lightweight than your boyfriend (the man could drink like a pirate and be even more chipper than before) and you couldn’t walk in a straight line for more than a few metres. he let you go so he could see your figure and admire it from afar, but as soon as he saw you stumble, dacre’s hand on your waist guided you to safety and sobriety.

y’all ran throughout the museum, finally landing and kissing in front of the mona lisa. it was such a picturesque moment. the taxi ride back to the hotel was such a fever dream, y’all were all over each other, your chauffeur knew well to close the barrier and give you two some alone time.

‘have i ever told you how beautiful you are?’ he says slurring his speech.

‘tell me again…’ you implored.

‘the most beautiful boy in the world.’ he reassured, pulling you in as the city of paris lit up, illuminating your eyes.

you called him an ‘eager beaver’ as dacre stumbled the two of you into the hotel you were staying at. he grunts between kisses,‘you know you love me.’ serving you with another peck. he stripped your clothes as you followed suit with his own, leaving a chasm of fabric in the corner of the room.

only your shared jewellery was left to remove. you fell back seductively onto the mattress. as dacre crawled on top of you with a dark lust growing in his eyes, you pulled him by the pendant around his neck.

the muscular man laid atop of you, placing each hand on the bed at dip of your waist, using his palms as a fulcrum to steady himself. you glanced down to see the light reflecting off his abs as they danced on the curves of your body.

‘you’re so beautiful.’ he whispered, kissing your cheek and cupping your face.

he lifted himself from your figure, grabbing your thighs and placing your feet at either side of his head.

kissing your legs softly ‘so fucking soft.’ he moaned into your skin. his dick was throbbingly red, precum glazing his cock as he slowly thigh fucked you. he folded his arms around your plush knees, and kept that pace, your fingers grazing his cock head each time it escaped the warm walls of your inner thighs. to your annoyance, he kept this up for what felt like forever. halting, you felt his rock length graze your hole.

‘dacre, put it in already!’ you said with overstimulated passion, earning a snicker from your boyfriend.

knowing that you were beginning to grow impatient, he caresses the flesh of your abdomen. ‘look who’s eager now?’ he smirked.

shut up,’ stroking his happy trail with an endearment. you looked up at him and bit your lip. ‘I need you, please.’ his mouth agape at you ‘of course baby.’

he laced his fingers into yours. rocking slowly into you. his huge dick stretching you out slowly as the the dimly lit room made his ash blue eyes appear dark with lust.

‘fuck, have i missed this pussy’ rhetorically muttering. dacre began whispering sweet nothings into your ear:

‘you’re doing so well.’

‘taking it like my good little boy aren’t you?’

he made you so hot. lifting himself onto his toes, he angled himself directly into you, placing his entire weight on you. fucking down into your hole, your boyfriend was hitting nerves that had been neglected in his absence.

your sphincter began tightening around him, dacre knew what this meant - your release would soon follow. he started kissing your neck, and circled your left nipple with his thumb, goading your orgasm out of you as he started drilling a bit faster. dacre chased his own high begging you to finish with him whilst slurring his words.

‘take it, baby it’s all yours. UGHHHHH’ he busted strongly inside you. his big balls slapped at your butt one last time, reassuring both of you that he had seeded you deeply. you came all over his chest, as he chuckled.

‘love it when you paint me, that’s that sexy shit i like.’ he praised giving you an eskimo kiss to calm you from my high.

‘y/n,’ he whispered, big spooning you.

‘what’s wrong baby?’ you sounded concerned, cradling his hand.

‘nothing love, i just,’ he paused hesitantly.

you turned back to face him. ‘what is it? you know you can tell me anything.’

‘I just need you to know how much i missed you,’

‘oh dacre, you already did an amazing job showing me.’ You joke ‘I feel so…enlightened right now.’

he lets out a sad deep chuckle, turning to him and stroking his cheek ‘I missed you too.’

he gripped your waist, taking your words as a source of comfort. pushing his tongue down your throat.

‘ready for round two,’ you say, massaging his dick with your palm, getting him ready.

‘always.’ he affirms, spanking your ass and turning you over. the first round was very much for your pleasure and to let you know that he had truly craved your body.

but seeing your coke bottle body all splayed out for him? it was here that dacre’s beast was awoken.

‘ass up for me baby.’ he said guiding you to a more comfortable position. he massaged your thick cheeks and started eating you out. his large hands looked abysmally small in comparison to how juicy your ass was.

‘I ain’t gonna show you any mercy this time, you know the safe word, but i don’t think we’ll be needing it.’ he muttered, kissing down your spine before impaling you.

‘shitttt dacre, slow down.’

‘shut the fuck up and take that shit like the pretty, little cockwhore you are.’ dacre degraded, knowing how much you loved his dom/aggressive nature almost as much as his softer side.

dacre began going ham on your poor hole. he stood up as he began pulling you into him from the edge of the bed. with one hand crossed against your cheek and the other in his hair, he had to compose himself - else he come to quickly.

he fucked into you at a painfully quick pace, but it felt so good having him take control. dacre slutted you out almost unconscious for a bit and you were brought back to earth as he hit your second hole.

‘fuck baby,’ ‘I will never get tired of that ass.’ he said watching your thickness bounce against his abs. you started becoming more active, pushing back onto him for a heightened pleasure.

‘shake it for daddy, theeeere ya go, that’s MY shit baby. FUUUUUUUCK.’

‘oh god, your dick is so good, dacre.’ you moan out , which is enough to send him over the edge.

he came as your ass halted at his base. tightenibg around him he started breathing falteringly. ‘baby d-don’t do that, shiiiiit.’ he started leaking like a faucet. trying to thrust inside with some rhythm (to no avail), he collapsed on top of you.

‘I love you so much.’ you say breathlessly.

‘the feeling is so mutual babe.’ he kissed into your skin.

‘y/n, you’re so fucking wet,’ he spoke under his breath. still inside that filled pussy of yours, his cum and your slick provided a juicy lubricant. as he pulled out, the cum oozing out of your wrecked hole pooled into his pubes and on the duvet cover. the two of you were completely oblivious to the mess, and cuddled in the filth you’d created - a filth you were looking forward to adding to in the morning.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

@lysanderplume

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter three]

summary: After a sudden betrothal, you consider what a future in Winterfell may look like.

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving durr), referenced baela x jace, slight timeline alterations

a/n: i feel weird writing smut even though i am an adult and i was writing UNGODLY things as a sixteen-year-old virgin half a decade ago. lmk if you enjoy because i don't have anything else written so if i'm going to keep writing i want to know that it's going to be read!

Cregan wasted no time trying to get me accustomed to Winterfell. As we entered the gates, he led me through with a protective hand on my back, steering me towards the stables first. He introduced me to his horse, Stormfighter, and I smiled at his excitement over the creature. It reminded me of my feelings about Vermithor. 

"You shall have as many horses as you wish," he told me, "perhaps a cream-colored one would pair well with mine. But I suppose you already have a dragon."

"Yes, Vermithor is a good form of transportation. I find horses rather slow now."

He laughed. "I shall build a dragonpit for Vermithor, if you wish it."

I smiled gently. He was so eager to please me. "He is much too big, I'm afraid. He will have to find a nest outside like Aemond's dragon, Vhagar."

"Ah. Not as easy as having a small dragon like your brother's, but perhaps more impressive."

"Vermithor's wingspan creates shadows over entire towns." I knew I was boasting, but Cregan's eyes widened with approval nevertheless. 

"Impressive indeed."

He took me within the palace walls, through warm hallways and into a communal dining hall where Stark bannermen laughed together merrily. One of them noticed Cregan enter, and the group regarded him with respectful My Lord's. I observed a few kitchen girls gossiping by the fire, unafraid of their Lord's presence. It pleased me to think that my future husband was a welcome presence to the people who worked beneath him. The tranquility of the scene put my mind at ease.

"I know Winterfell is less grand than you are used to," he admitted wearily, "but I will do anything to ensure your comfort here."

"You are Warden of the North and take care of your people with ease and no complaint," I turned to him, "there is no greater comfort to me than a Lord husband with a gentle heart."

"Lord husband?"

Jacaerys' voice startles you. He has crept up behind the two of you, and you are suddenly aware of the weight of Cregan's hand still on your lower back.

"Jace," I flushed, "we... I..." 

The words were lost in my mouth, but before me stood my brother, and words were not necessary. He smiled at me and I returned the grin knowing that he understood what had come to pass. He brought me in for a hug. 

"Congratulations," he told me, pulling back and kissing my head. He moved to Cregan and, to my surprise, brought him in for a hug as well. "Brother." he said happily. 

"Thank you, my prince." Cregan stood tall in front of him, pride radiating from him. "We will have a celebratory dinner tonight in the great hall."

"I shall send a raven to my mother." Jace said this with a smile and walked off, but I watched Cregan's expression darken. 

"What is it, qēlos?" I touched his face without thinking. He leaned into my fingertips.

"I realized I never asked your mother permission for your hand," he said, "I was so caught up in the thrill of being yours that..."

"It matters not, it was always my choice." I said firmly. I could tell it still bothered him. "What can I do to make it better?" He thought for a moment. 

"Allow me to come with you to Dragonstone, at the appropriate time. Let me meet the queen and pledge myself to her and you in person. And then..." he trailed off, as if afraid to overstep.

"Yes?"

"I hoped we could have a ceremony in the traditions of House Targaryen. Bind ourselves to one another by blood. If it pleases you."

For him to think of my house and my culture and not only his own made me awash with emotion. 

"It does please me." I whispered, placing a sweet kiss to his lips. He pulled back.

"What did that word mean?" My brows furrowed at his question. 

"What word?"

"The one you said earlier, qua, queh..." 

"Qēlos." I told him. "It means star." 

He hummed and repeated the word under his breath. 

I sought some alone time with Jace so we could talk before my betrothal to Cregan was announced at dinner. I found him in the library of Winterfell, flipping through an old history book. He looked up as I came in. 

"Sister," he greeted, "the Maester suggested I read up on the history of our houses' relationships with one another. That is, the Targaryens and the Starks."

"I hope it's good." 

He smiled. "Even if it wasn't, this marriage would surely do the trick." He stood up, removing his focus from the book below him. "Cregan is a powerful man, little dragon. In many ways. He commands a population that our ancestors have found very hard to control in the past. The North is loyal not to their Warden, but to their Lord Stark. His involvement could mean victory for mother."

I scoffed, suddenly annoyed. I was newly engaged and he could still only talk politics. "Well, what do you suggest I do? Suck his cock every time mother wants a thousand men? I won't be her pawn, I am going to be the Lady of Winterfell."

"I only mean that you now sit beside one of our most important fighters. I... I suppose I don't know what I meant telling you that. I just mean that it pleases me to see you with such an accomplished man. And... I like Cregan. He is good, and you deserve a good man."

"I did worry, at first, that he only asked for my hand because mother sought something from him. But he asked for my hand all those years ago, in a letter he sent me after his time in King's Landing."

"What? Why did you never respond?"

I flushed. "I never opened the letter."

Jace began to cackle. "You're a fool, sister." 

"I know." I snapped at him, slapping his shoulder. I sat down in a chair across the table from him, prompting him to sit as well. "I don't think I would have said yes if I had, though."

"Why not?"

I sighed. "I was not ready, and I knew not what he wanted from me."

"What does he want from you?" Jace was prodding, and I was letting it happen. I looked down at my hands.

"Everything. My heart and soul. I haven't been ready to give it. I have been too afraid that I would give it to the wrong person, or they would capture it and I would never be free again. But I feel free with him. He wants nothing from me, but to love me. And I know if I ask for my soul back, he will give it to me. But I want him to have it. I trust him."

A tear shot down my cheek, taking me by surprise. I didn't realize I had started crying. Jace was still smiling at me. I loved when he smiled, and I had the feeling it would only become more rare. So I returned it, and we were happy together for a moment. 

"When will you wed?" He asked curiously. 

"I have no idea. But Cregan has asked to visit mother in Dragonstone and have a ceremony of her house there."

"That will please her greatly."

I nodded. "Part of me wants it to be slow, so that I can ease into being married. But part of me cannot wait another day. Part of me just wants to be near him, close to him, always." I blushed, realizing what I was insinuating. But Jacaerys was nodding in agreement. 

"You know, you can wait as long as you want. You don't have to wait for the rest, not really."

"What?" I sputtered. He so casually and simply dismantled a norm that had been thrust at us our entire lives. More specifically, me. 

"No one really knows what happens behind closed doors." He shrugged.

"Oh hush, Jace, you only say that because you are a man." I bit.

His face reddened. "Very well, but you have never heard me presume to say that a woman's virtue is ruined alongside her maidenhood."

"Only old men still believe that."

"Exactly. Look, I know how much of a change this is from what you convinced yourself you always wanted. Take a few moons to settle in before you marry him. If anything happens naturally between you two in that period... so be it. You are to be married anyhow."

I was amused by his candor. "My brother, the wildling." I teased. "Tell me, was this enlightened opinion developed when our depraved uncle took you to a brothel when you were ten and three?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know very well I was a child deathly frightened of women, and bedding brothel wenches is different than making love to your betrothed."

It clicked for me. "You mean to tell me that you and Baela..."

He looked at his lap, equally flustered and self-satisfied. As much as it irked me to think of my brother in bed with someone, I found his admission heartwarming. After our grandsire's death, Dragonstone had been dreary and tense. We all walked the halls knowing that our days were numbered. To be unwilling to wait to be with the one you love when each day could be your last - it was romantic. 

"Jace," I grinned at him. I kicked him under the table. "How? I mean, when?"

"Before grandsire died," he admitted, "We just... got caught up in the moment. But I don't regret it. Life is too short."He reached out across the table and playfully pressed his knuckles against my cheek in a faux-punch. "If you are choosing to be free, be free. We may be called into battle on the morrow."

I left our conversation feeling validated in a way I hadn't realized I needed to be. It made me want only one thing: to find my husband-to-be.

I found Cregan in the highest room of a round tower to walk to dinner together. He answered the door and I could tell he had been working from the papers strewn upon his desk. The room was set up as an office, with a small straw mattress in the corner. I guessed that he found himself sleeping here when overwhelmed with work. 

"My beautiful wife," he greeted me, "almost. Come in." 

He brought me in, sitting me in a cushioned chair across from his desk and leaning against that to observe me. I spoke. "I wanted to discuss the wedding. I was not sure how long you wanted our engagement to last, and I wondered how soon before we are married." 

"I had not thought to discuss the details without you," he said, "you are, after all, meant to be in attendance as well."

His words always comforted me, and were always accompanied by a soft smile that I had only seen him give to me. "If it is alright, my Lord, I hoped to wait a few moons before we are wed. I suppose I have not yet come to terms with the reality of saying the vows." 

"We can wait as many moons as you like, little dove. Years, if it is your wish."

I smiled up at him. "You are so easy. You truly have no quarrels?"

"Not if it would go against my Lady's desires." I stood. Our chests were inches apart. I could feel his hot breath on my face.

"There is nothing that you cannot wait for?"

He shuddered. His jaw tightened as if he were in pain. Suddenly, the unbreakable man had a crack running through his thick skin. I ran my fingers up his furs and toyed with the clasp, which carried the Stark sigil. I unclipped it slowly and his cloak fell to the floor. 

"You don't have to wait to touch me," I told him. His eyes were burning holes through mine, darting every other breath to my lips. He bit his lip. 

"I will not sully you, my princess," he said in a low voice. "I am an honorable man."

"And I am an honorable woman," I said firmly. "Therefore we do not dishonor each other."

"Your arithmetic is very confusing, my love."

"But it is correct."

He kissed me with a heat that his kisses had never held before. It was as if now I had given him permission to want me, he could no longer pretend he didn't. His hands roamed up my back, unclasping my cloak and moving to tangle in my hair. Teeth clashed against each other in a dance that we were both leading. One of his large hands came to rest at the base of my throat, then ran lower through the column of my breasts and then he finally moved to cup one. I gasped at the feeling of his fingers kneading at my flesh, slowing down when grazing over my nipple. He stopped kissing me only to flip us and place me on the desk, slotting his hips between my legs. I squealed as he pressed them open, the fabric of my dress falling between my thighs, but he quickly bunched it and moved my dress up past my hips. He smiled at the sight of my smallclothes. 

"I'll have you naked in my bed soon," he grumbled, "but for now, I won't ruin the surprise. I will just give you a taste of the pleasure you shall have for the rest of your life."

His words made me whimper. He kneeled down in front of me, and a surge of embarrassment made me close my eyes as he grasped my undergarments and slid them down my legs. He must have noticed, because no more touches came after I was bare. I opened my eyes to his gaze. 

"I want you to watch me please you," he said gently, more a request than a command. He kissed the inside of my thigh. My hip bone. Slowly, he grew closer to my center, keeping eye contact with me until his mouth connected with my core. 

Oh. 

So this was why people could not wait until after their marriage vows. 

I gasped so loudly that he stopped for a moment until I gently grasped his hair and guided him back to where he was. I could feel him smiling down there and I almost laughed with joy. His tongue danced beautiful choreography against my cunt, expertly drawing pleasure from my body in a way I could never have imagined.

"Cregan... fuck, oh, yes," I could no longer control words from spilling from my mouth. He slowly stroked a finger at my entrance, looking back up at me to ask for permission as he gently prodded at my hole. I nodded and then moaned as his finger intruded me, and if I wasn't mistaken I could have sworn I heard him let out a moan as if it were his own cock that had penetrated me. 

He continued to eat me like a starved man and with the addition of his finger slowly curling inside of me, I knew that something was about to explode within me. My stomach was tightening, my legs shaking and trying to clamp shut against Cregan's head. He fought against them with ease, pressing me further open and leaning into his meal, lapping it up like a wolf feasting on prey. He could feel my peak approaching and his tongue began to focus on my pearl, suckling and kissing the bud with tender care. 

It was too much. My moans had morphed into screams of pleasure, and my hands were yanking at his hair so hard I had no idea how he wasn't hurt. With a few more well-placed licks against my pussy, I could feel myself at the edge.

"Cregan..." I could barely breathe, barely speak. "I'm-I'm-so, so close," I keened. 

"You're perfect," he mumbled against me, "can't believe this is all mine." He dove back in on a mission and I began to fall.

"Oh, oh, yes..." I could only sigh as the tension snapped and a jolt ran through my body. It was electric, and Cregan held my body tightly as it shuddered. He stood slowly, caressing my legs as he did, and removing a handkerchief from his pocket, which he gently ran through my folds. I gasped, sensitive from my orgasm, grasping at his forearm. He only hushed me and kissed my brow. He moved my dress back down to protect my modesty, and picked my undergarments off the floor. 

"I'll keep these as a reminder of the first of many times I ate my wife's cunt," he said, shoving them into his pocket. He picked me up from the desk and set me down in front of him. "How was that? Are you alright?"

I put my arms around his neck. "I have literally never been better."

“I am glad.” He said. He kissed me slowly, his arms absentmindedly running across every plane of my back, mapping the new terrain. "You are..." He looked at me the way people usually looked at me before calling me beautiful. But he said nothing. He only placed a peck on my forehead and fetched our cloaks from the floor, reclasping mine first and then his own.

"I am what?" I asked, now curious.

Cregan shrugged, leading me towards the door. "There isn't a word to describe it."

The silent walk that we took to the great hall was not awkward, but pensive. I liked the feeling of my arm wrapped around his underneath the cloaks. He always pulled me to his side, so he could feel the fabric of our clothes brushing together as we walked. Every few steps I could see him look down at me out of my peripheral vision. At one such time, I caught his gaze and we smiled at each other. He licked his lips slightly, and it reminded me that those same lips had so recently between my legs, and I blushed, my gaze falling to my feet.

"Thinking of something, dove?" He smirked. 

"Just those lips of yours," I reached up and brushed his bottom one with my fingertip. "You've been blessed with a talented mouth."

"I am at your service, forever." He said seriously.

Forever. It seemed an easy enough thing to imagine with Cregan. He felt safe, he was devoted to me. He said he loved me. Could it be that easy? Just to give in to his love? It was tempting, but I sought clarity. What made him love, and why had he found it with me? What if I suddenly stopped doing the thing he loved? The darkest part of my heart told me that as we aged and my beauty faded, his interest in me would falter. 

"Now you surely aren't thinking of me between your legs," he observed, "because you are frowning."

"Just wondering."

"About?"

I sighed. "Do you believe that love fades?"

"Sometimes." He said. His definitive answer stumped me and I could feel a flare of anger arise from it.

"Well, then," I hummed passive-aggressively. It was unbecoming, I knew, especially since I was trying to ascertain that he would not grow tired of my antics and regret our union. Instead of arguing, he chuckled. 

"Why do you speak in riddles? Ask me what I know you have been wondering. I may be a dull Northerner but I am not dimwitted." 

Even in humbling me he was gentle, his voice laced with amusement, as if any complaint I may have could be fixed as simply as commanding him. 

"Why do you love me? I... I am afraid that whatever it is will fade, and you will grow tired of me. And..."

"And?"

"Forgive me."

"What?"

I felt hot tears behind my eyes but I clenched my teeth until they retreated. "Will I forever be your second wife? Not the mother of your children, either, only a... replacement? I'm sorry, my Lord, I should not target your late wife with my own insecurities."

He had stopped us in the hallway, boxing me against the wall and listening intently. Cregan drank every word I said up like honey. After I finished, his palm found my face and I saw the emotions swimming behind his eyes. I regretted terribly the possibility that I may have reopened past wounds.

"I believe love can fade sometimes, in the way that it has for my late wife." He sighed. "Her name was Arra. We were friends in childhood. When my parents suggested our union, her familiarity comforted me. I think that is what I loved about her. She was like home, like being a boy again. But I am no longer a boy." He took my hands. "I will miss Arra until the day I die because she was my friend and bore me a babe. But I did not choose her, and you have been my only thought since the moment I met you. In years of not hearing from you, not knowing if you would ever allow me to become close to you, I still loved you. Every night memories of your wit and bravery haunted me. Fuck, girl, you ruined me for any other woman. The thought of anyone else, for all those moons, was unthinkable. You could not fade from my heart if I tried to pluck you out with a knife."

I hadn't anything to say. 

So I said, "I love you."

[lych33dragoncookie]

Only the masterpieces that survive the fiercest flames earn their place in history.

(Analysis post)

Alright, they absolutely cooked this update. Like, undeniably so. I was admittedly not that huge of a fan of the last 2 beast yeast chapters we got; they had really good ideas, and Mystic Flour is a wonderful character, but... Dark Cacao hasn't really been done enough with for it to feel like it had the amount of weight it could have, and it really doesn't feel like much about him actually changed at all. Combine that with a complete lack of interesting dynamics and you have a lot of very good and genuinely pretty well thought out story concepts with extensive cultural research, executed in a way that feels more like a traditional old-school story that weakens the attachment the audience feels to the components of said story.

Here, though? I have no complaints so far. It was absolutely wild in fact, to the point where I don't think it's gonna happen again (nor am I entirely sure it should ever happen again). This was back to back, non-stop, smack to the face one after the other. The moment the first point of conflict came up, it was just shit happening left and right; even in the mandatory moment of rest where we chill out for a bit, it's revealed that hey, these sandstorms? Yeah the sand is actually ashes. It's the remains of all the people that live here. Whether they died off on their own or were killed by someone else.

And if that wasn't enough, very shortly after;

... It's fucking crack.

So, people die and kill each other here very frequently, and not only are their remains visibly on display, their ashes also become sandstorms that make it near impossible to navigate the land; on top of being something that people snort like cocaine to become more energetic and aggressive.

We started fucking wild, dude. This whole thing is pulling no punches.

Though, I do wanna note; I really, really enjoyed the interactions between Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese. It shows not only how forgiving she is, but how these two have known each other for an incredibly long time, and know each other well. They're incredibly comfortable around each other, despite it all, and despite how brazen and Very Much Not Strategic the queen here can be. I really, really enjoyed them.

Always fun to see a recovering villain do things for good, but in their own unique way that's still not exactly heroic but definitely effective and, at times, very gratifying.

Though I enjoyed all this, there's one thing I wanna talk about above all else.

The star of the show. Note that every single part was enjoyable, of course, and he wouldn't be half as interesting without Golden Cheese Cookie to serve as a parallel, but they've cooked up something special here.

So far, Burning Spice's extent of onscreen appearance is very, very short, but... I don't think I need to tell you that he's already made an impact and a half.

Christ, that's violent. With the sound effects and everything too, god damn. But, I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a pretty superficial source of judgement for this character. It's very very telling of what kind of person he is now, what he's all about, what he's willing to do, what he likes doing, but...

More than anyone else in recent memory, the devil is in the details. So let's look at those details.

Nothing too much so far, other than how much he absolutely loves destruction, but there's already a trend; namely on "Nothing lasts forever. It's as simple as that", "In the end, everything becomes dust.", and "You, too, shall see that destruction is the only way.". There seems to be an infatuation with the natural process of everything fading away, turning to dust and dying out. An entirely honest one, believing that there is just about nothing else to life. These will be important to keep in mind.

Here, we see a bit of his current relationship with his own immortality. He doesn't seem to mind the idea of losing it, finding something that may eventually take him down, but he still takes great pride in it. These lines, in text, seem somewhat miserable (and trust me, they definitely are), but the voicework in just about every language conveys that they are said in a more neutral, even potentially proudly manner. Again, not much on their own, but...

Here's where we get into the fun part.

This. This is the crux of their character. At the start, him and Golden Cheese cookie were more or less the same. Benevolent royalty, close and personal with their subjects. Beloved, and loving.

And then, they lost it all.

One way or another, their kingdoms were lost, reduced to almost nothing. They were overcome by grief, desperate, unable to cope with their loss. One tried to latch on as hard as possible. Preserve what she could, blindly, replacing the harsh truth of reality with an idealized, constructed world, where no one would ever have to know pain ever again. She shut herself off, and retreated in the safety and peace of a false reality. She would rather have lied to both herself and all her subjects than face reality. And eventually, she had to learn to move on. Let herself and her kingdom heal more naturally, facing reality. The other, meanwhile, was desperate to let go. He detached himself, trying to move past the pain of loss. But, of course, he couldn't force it to happen. No one can. And so with the grief of losing that which he held dear, continuing to be faced with the reality that nothing is forever, over and over, while he endured, the world slowly turning to ash around them again and again... It's no wonder something in there eventually cracked.

What will it take to destroy me. Nothing is forever, and yet, I am.

Nothing is forever. And yet, I am.

With time, misery turned to mania, and in an attempt to overcome their grief, they embraced it, in the worst way possible. A coping mechanism gone horrendously wrong. That destruction, that loss, the inevitability of death... It's not painful, no. It doesn't have to be. It can be thrilling. Exhilarating. A new reason to live. If all you care about turns to dust anyways, if that's really the only logical destination... Why not have some fun with it? Why not embody that inevitable, unstoppable force? Why not become what you fear, so you no longer have to be afraid anymore?

... You know, at least that's what I think is going on here. The next chapter could contradict this reading, but... From what all we have right now, it seems like Golden Cheese and Burning Spice are two completely different paths for the exact same type of pain. They are, in a way, the same, but diverge in almost complete opposite ways where it counts.

Spice is genuinely equal parts absolutely terrifying and absolutely miserable; a balance that is incredibly hard to strike in writing, but always absolutely fascinating and wonderful to observe when it happens. I have to say, the more I found out about them, the more I couldn't keep my eyes off everything they have going on.

I'm loving every little bit of this update. Mad props to the devs for cooking something up here that I am genuinely incredibly invested in, almost to the same degree as White Lily and Dark Enchantress. Banger update. Absolute S tier material.

TL;DR: Burning Spice is terrifying, miserable, and ridiculously cool. Everything about this update was an absolute merciless flurry of consecutive gut-punches. And I loved every second of it.

... Now we sit and wait for Shadow Milk's release next year.

[hookhausenschips]

Men Who Know Too Much

Navigation

Summary: The F1 guys shock their girlfriend with their knowledge of protective styles and colors.

Join my taglists here

Drivers: Max, Charles, Lando, Franco, George, Carlos, & Oscar

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Max Verstappen - T1B/Light Blue Lemonade Braids

Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, glaring at her laptop screen as if it had personally offended her. Max, who had just walked into the room, stopped in his tracks, noticing her intense focus.

“Still trying to pick a hairstyle?” he asked, sitting down beside her.

“Yes!” she groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “I’ve gone through Pinterest, Instagram, TikTok—everything! And nothing feels right.”

“Blue,” he said decisively.

Y/N glanced up. “Blue what?”

“Lemonade braids. Like Beyoncé’s style. But with light blue tips,” he said casually.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Max Verstappen, what in the cultural vulture—”

“It’s appreciation, not appropriation,” he interrupted. “The braids would frame your face nicely, and the blue would really pop against your skin tone.”

Her eyes narrowed as she slowly folded her arms. “Okay, Verstappen. How do you know what lemonade braids are? And why are you so specific with the light blue? Who taught you this?”

Max smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. “No one taught me. I might’ve Googled it a while ago.”

“Googled it?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Max, you don’t even Google your own races. Who are you secretly learning about lemonade braids for?”

“No one,” he said, laughing. “I swear. I just remember you saying you liked bold colors, and I thought the light blue would look cool.”

Y/N leaned closer, her gaze scrutinizing him. “So, you’re saying some girl hasn’t slid into your DMs with her lemonade braids, trying to get your attention?”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope. No girls, no DMs. Just me trying to help my girlfriend make a decision without stressing out.”

She narrowed her eyes for another beat before sighing dramatically. “Hmm. Okay. I guess lemonade braids with light blue tips could be cute. But if it looks bad, Max…”

“I’ll take the blame,” he said confidently. “But I know it won’t look bad. You’re going to look amazing.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. “Fine. But next time you randomly pull hair knowledge out of nowhere, I’m interrogating you properly.”

Max grinned, leaning in to kiss her temple. “Deal. But I don’t think you’ll have any complaints once you see yourself in those braids.”

She shook her head, laughing. “You’re lucky I trust you.”

Oscar Piastri - Blonde and Chestnut Bohemian Box Braids

Oscar sat at the dining table, his laptop open in front of him. Meanwhile, Y/N paced back and forth behind him, her arms flailing as she vented.

“This is impossible. How am I supposed to pick something? Every style has pros and cons. What if I pick the wrong one?!” she groaned, dramatically clutching her chest.

Oscar looked up, his expression calm. “You’re overthinking this.”

“I have to overthink, Oscar!” she snapped. “My hair is my crown. One wrong move, and I’m out here looking like a walking disaster.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “What about bohemian box braids?”

Y/N froze mid-step, turning to him with a slow blink. “Come again?”

“Bohemian box braids,” he repeated. “You know, with loose curls throughout. And the color… what is it? 613 for blonde, mixed with 33—the chestnut brown you said you liked?”

Her mouth fell open. “Wait, hold up. You’re telling me you just casually know about boho braids and the specific colors 613 and 33? Am I being pranked right now?”

Oscar shrugged, his lips twitching into a smile. “I pay attention. You’ve mentioned the colors before. Plus, I think the mix of blonde and chestnut would really complement your skin tone.”

“Hmm,” she hummed suspiciously, crossing her arms. “No one just knows about 613 and 33 unless they’re deep in hair TikTok or… unless some girl taught them.”

Oscar raised his hands in mock surrender, his expression innocent. “No girl taught me, I promise. I just remember the things you say.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oscar, don’t lie to me. If there’s some girl who’s been giving you hair tips, let me know now so I can fight her.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Relax, love. There’s no girl. I just want to help you make a choice.”

Y/N eyed him for a moment longer before sighing and sitting beside him. “Okay, fine. Boho braids in blonde and chestnut do sound cute. But if it doesn’t look good—”

“Then I’ll take full responsibility,” he said smoothly, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “But you’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

Charles Leclerc - T4/27 Pop Smoke Braids

Charles sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone, while Y/N flopped dramatically onto the cushions beside him.

“Charles,” she said, dragging out his name like a whine.

“Yes, chérie?” he replied without looking up.

“I still don’t know what to get for my hair tomorrow,” she said, rolling onto her side to face him.

He finally looked at her, setting his phone down. “I’ve got an idea.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You have an idea?”

“Pop Smoke braids,” he said confidently, “with T4/27. The dark brown base and honey blonde mix would look perfect on you.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait, what? Charles, how do you even know about Pop Smoke braids? And why are you out here dropping color codes like you work at a beauty supply store?”

Charles chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “Because I pay attention. You were talking about T4 and 27 the other day, and I remembered. Plus, the style is trendy, and you’d rock it.”

Y/N squinted at him, her lips pursed. “You’re telling me there’s no random girl in your DMs showing you her Pop Smoke braids?”

“No random girl,” he said, shaking his head, amused.

She leaned closer, narrowing her eyes. “And if I check your phone right now, I won’t find you following some hairstylist’s account?”

“Go ahead,” Charles said with a grin. “I have nothing to hide. Besides, I only care about what you look like, and I think Pop Smoke braids would suit you perfectly.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, her lips twitching as she tried not to smile. “You’re lucky you’re charming. Fine, I’ll do it. But if I walk out of that salon looking crazy…”

“You won’t,” he said, his voice gentle. “You’ll look stunning, as always.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, leaning against him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Lando Norris - Fulani Braids (1B Ombré)

Y/N paced the living room, phone in hand, swiping furiously through Pinterest. The hair appointment reminder loomed on her screen like a taunting deadline.

“I don’t know what to do,” she groaned dramatically, tossing her phone onto the couch where Lando lounged. “I can’t just show up to the salon and say, ‘Surprise me.’ What if I leave looking crazy?”

Lando, who’d been half-watching a race replay, looked up with a lazy grin. “You’re overthinking this.”

“Overthinking?” she repeated, incredulous. “This is my hair, Lando. My whole personality is on the line here. What if I get something that doesn’t suit me? What if—”

“Fulani braids,” Lando interrupted smoothly.

Y/N stopped mid-rant. “Fulani braids?”

He nodded, sitting up and placing his phone on the coffee table. “Yeah, you know, the ones with the cute center braid and beads. And you could do that 1B ombré—black roots fading into something lighter.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Ombré,” he repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’d look amazing on you.”

Y/N folded her arms, her suspicion immediate. “Hold up. Lando, where did you learn about Fulani braids? And why do you even know what 1B is?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her interrogation. “Does it matter? I’m just saying it’d look good on you.”

“No, no, no,” she said, stepping closer, her tone demanding. “This doesn’t just come out of nowhere. What girl told you about this? And do I need to fight her?”

Lando laughed, his cheeks tinting pink. “Relax, Y/N. No one told me. I just pay attention! You were talking to your stylist about ombré last month, and I remembered.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Mm-hmm. So you’re saying I’ve never seen you scrolling through some girl’s braids tutorial on Instagram?”

He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Guilty of scrolling. But only because I wanted to be helpful.”

She sighed, shaking her head but unable to stop the small smile creeping onto her face. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Fine, I’ll get Fulani braids. But if it doesn’t turn out good, I’m coming for you.”

“And I’ll take full responsibility,” Lando said confidently, pulling her onto the couch beside him. “But trust me—you’ll look amazing.”

Franco Colapinto - Pink and Black Butterfly Locs

Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling furiously through her phone while Franco lay stretched out on the bed, watching her with mild amusement. She sighed loudly, tossing her phone onto the carpet.

“This is impossible!” she groaned. “Why is choosing a hairstyle so hard?”

Franco chuckled softly, sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees. “Estás haciendo esto más complicado de lo que es,” {You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.} he said. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Because I have to!” she shot back, throwing her hands in the air. “This isn’t just hair—it’s a statement! One wrong choice, and I’m out here looking like I don’t care about myself.”

Franco smirked, shaking his head. “I have an idea,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

Y/N squinted at him, suspicious. “Oh? You, of all people, have a hair idea? Let’s hear it, Colapinto.”

“Butterfly locs,” he said casually. “Pink and black. You’d look increíble.”

Y/N stared at him, completely frozen. “Butterfly locs? Pink and black? Franco, are you serious right now?”

“Sí,” he said with a shrug. “The pink will make it pop, and the black will keep it balanced. It’s perfect for you.”

Her eyes narrowed as she folded her arms. “Okay, explain to me right now how you even know what butterfly locs are. And why you’re out here suggesting color combos like you work at a beauty supply store.”

He smirked, leaning back on his hands. “Te escucho, mi amor. {I listen to you, my love} Plus, I saw a picture on Instagram once, and I thought, ‘This would look amazing on Y/N.’”

Y/N wasn’t buying it. She pointed an accusing finger at him. “Franco, don’t lie to me. Did a girl teach you this? Did she send you a photo? Tell me now so I can fight her.”

He burst out laughing, his grin wide. “No hay ninguna chica, te lo juro. {There’s no girl, I swear.} No DMs, no one teaching me. Just me paying attention to you.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, still skeptical. “You’re telling me no hairstylist slid into your messages, offering tips? Porque si hay una, ya sabe que voy a pelear.” }Because if there is one, she knows I’m going to fight}

“No hay nadie,” {There’s no one} Franco insisted, reaching out to take her hand. “You’re the only person I care about impressing. And I think butterfly locs in pink and black would look increíble on you.”

Y/N eyed him for a moment longer before sighing, a smile creeping onto her face. “Fine. I’ll do it. But if it looks crazy—”

“Confía en mí,” {Trust me} he interrupted, pulling her closer. “You’ll look hermosa. Always do.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, trying not to blush. “Alright, Franco. But I’m serious—if I find out you learned this from some girl…”

“Then I’ll be in trouble,” he said with a laugh, kissing the back of her hand. “But you won’t, porque esto fue todo mi idea.” {Because this was all my idea}

Y/N shook her head, finally laughing. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Fine, butterfly locs it is.”

George Russell - Deep Brown Alicia Keys Braids

Y/N sat on the sofa, staring at her reflection in her phone’s camera, pulling her hair back this way and that. Her lips were pressed into a pout as she tried to visualize every style she’d saved over the past week. George was seated next to her, casually scrolling on his iPad, pretending not to notice her growing frustration.

“I swear, I’m going to lose my mind,” Y/N muttered.

“What now?” George asked, looking over the edge of his screen with a bemused smile.

“This hair appointment!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been staring at pictures for hours, and nothing feels right. I need something timeless, but also unique. Classic, but still fun.”

George set his iPad down and turned fully to face her. “Alright, what about Alicia Keys braids?”

Y/N’s head whipped around so fast, George flinched. “Hold on. What?”

“Alicia Keys braids,” he repeated, completely serious. “You know, with the beads and deep brown—what is it, shade 30? That would look great on you.”

Her eyes widened as she leaned back, staring at him in disbelief. “George William Russell. Where. Did. You. Learn. That?”

George raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What do you mean? I know things.”

“No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head rapidly. “You don’t just know about Alicia Keys braids and shade 30. Someone taught you that. Who is she? And can I fight her?”

George laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “No one taught me, I promise. I’ve just… picked things up from you. And maybe from a few of your magazines lying around.”

“Mmmhmm,” Y/N said, eyeing him skeptically. “So, no hairstylist has slid into your DMs, giving you tips? No random girls sending you pictures of their hair?”

“None,” he said firmly, leaning forward to clasp her hands in his. “I swear, it’s all you. I just happen to think Alicia Keys braids would suit you perfectly. They’re elegant, bold, and beautiful. Just like you.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips, though she kept her eyes narrowed. “Alright, Russell. I’ll bite. But if I hear even whispers of a girl teaching you hair tricks…”

George grinned, pulling her closer. “Then I’ll accept my punishment. But you won’t, because I’m telling the truth.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, finally relaxing into his arms. “Fine. Alicia Keys braids it is. But I’m holding you personally responsible for how it turns out.”

“And I’ll take full credit when you look stunning,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

Y/N smirked. “You’re lucky you’re cute. And that you have good taste.”

George chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I know. That’s why you love me.”

Carlos Sainz - Red Ombré Knotless Braids

Y/N stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom, twisting and tugging at her hair with a frustrated groan. Carlos lay sprawled across the bed behind her, scrolling through his phone and glancing up occasionally as her frustration grew.

“I swear, this is impossible,” she said, spinning around to face him. “I don’t even know why I booked a hair appointment when I can’t decide what to get!”

Carlos propped himself up on one elbow, his brows furrowed slightly. “¿Por qué te estresas tanto, cariño? It’s just hair.” {Why are you stressing so much, darling?}

“Just hair?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “This isn’t ‘just hair,’ Carlos! It’s a protective style! It’s got to be perfect. And I have no clue what to pick!”

He set his phone down, sitting up fully. “Vale, vale. How about medium knotless braids with a T1B/Red ombré?” {Alright, alright}

Y/N froze, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him. “…Did you just say medium knotless braids with T1B/Red ombré?”

Carlos shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Sí. The black to red ombré would look amazing on you. It’s bold, like you.”

“Okay, hold up,” she said, pointing at him accusingly. “How do you know about knotless braids? And why are you out here talking about T1B/Red like you’re a professional colorist?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I pay attention. You showed me pictures once, and I remembered. Plus, I know you like red—it’s a Ferrari color.”

Her eyes narrowed further as she crossed her arms. “Carlos, if I find out some girl taught you this—”

He interrupted, holding up his hands in surrender. “Nadie me enseñó nada. It’s all from you. I just thought the style would suit you.” {No one taught me anything.}

She tilted her head, studying him carefully. “Mmmhmm. So, no secret hairstylist in your DMs? No girl teaching you hair lingo?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No hay ninguna chica, I promise. Just me, trying to help my novia who is stressing herself out.” {There’s no girl}

“Hmm,” she hummed, still skeptical but softening slightly. “Medium knotless braids with red ombré does sound cute…”

Carlos grinned, standing and walking over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Of course it does. You’ll look increíble, as always.”

She glanced at him in the mirror, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Fine. I’ll try it. But if it looks bad, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “But it won’t look bad, because you always look beautiful.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but leaned into his embrace. “You’re lucky you’re charming. And that you know what you’re talking about.”

“Por supuesto,” Carlos said with a grin. “I always know what’s best for you.” {Of course}

•••••••••••••••••••••••

F1 Grid Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @lightdragonrayne, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @dhanihamidi, @xoscar03, @miarabanana, @decafmickey, @icecoldtires, @evesfile, @ysnhua, @mellowluka, @bdreamalot99, @qxeenjen

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @mellowluka, @ysnhua, @omgsuperstarg, @qxeenjen

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x Black!f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Sequel to Breeding. During the pregnancy, the soon- to-be-parents navigate their way through superstitions, a gender reveal, and TikTok videos. 🛑 Warnings: None 🖤 Tag list: @pittieprincess22If, @cyberdejos2, @brideofinfamy, @rainbowdreams-x, @headcaseproductions1, @bearbutlikeprincessbear If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: @wrestlingbaby Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

First Trimester

“Wait, wait, wait,” Damian interrupted, rubbing his forehead. “So you’re saying … you’re saying I can’t tell my parents we’re having a baby for another month?”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” his girlfriend replied. The two of them sat on the very couch she’d told him she was pregnant on, facing each other. “I’m saying it’s something we do in my culture. It’s a practice that’s been passed down for—”

“It’s a superstition,” Damian remarked.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever, it’s a superstition. All I’m asking is that you please respect that. And I really don’t think I’m asking too much. It’s one month.” Damian sighed, gazing softly at her, and really, she’d known he would cave the whole time, but she had to let him get his argument in.

“Alright,” he conceded, “but, hey.” He pointed at her. “Thirteen weeks and a day, and I’m callin’ my mom.”

She giggled. “Of course.”

“And I’m not letting her yell at me the whole time either.”

She gasped, hand on her chest. “You would honestly make your pregnant girlfriend—” Damian tilted his head, eyes wide. “Okay, fine. Crybaby.”

Now he was offended, and he lunged at her suddenly. Even for his giant frame, he was somehow still so gentle and careful with her as he laid her back on the cushions. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, eyes, and all she could do was smile. She might have even purred. Damian moved down her body, avoiding her breasts after her complaint that her nipples were too sensitive to even be looked at, lifting up her shirt when he came to her belly. He kissed her cocoa skin before laying his head down. She brushed her fingers through his soft hair.

“I’m just excited about Damian Junior,” he mumbled against her belly button.

“I am not naming my child Damian Junior,” his girlfriend replied.

“Yeah, well, we can talk about it.”

“The hell we will,” she uttered to herself. And to Damian she said, “I probably shouldn’t even ask, but if it’s a girl—”

“Damina.”

“Oh, lord.”

“Junior.”

“Okay, get off me.” 

💜💜💜

Second Trimester

The party was a little more complex and involved than she’d wanted, but who was she to deny Damian a wrestling-themed gender reveal? Their backyard was beautiful grass, followed by soft sand, and finally, the warm, salty ocean. Usually. Today there was an almost-regulation size wrestling ring surrounded by comfortable chairs, which is where everyone was gathered as Rhea Ripley made her entrance. Her gear was a lot less risqué and a hell of a lot more pink, and she represented a baby girl. Dominik Mysterio was next, greeted by boos simply because of who he was, dressed in blue, representing a baby boy.

Damian and his girlfriend sat in the front row, Damian with his arm around her shoulders, as they watched the match. Rhea and Dom went back and forth for a short while, entertaining the crowd, before it was time for the big reveal. They performed an intricate sequence, which ended in Rhea successfully executing a Riptide, and after a three-count, she was declared the winner, and the baby revealed to be a girl. Damian and his girlfriend turned to each other, both smiling wildly as they hugged one another. She couldn’t help but boast that she’d known all along, Damian rolling his eyes, mumbling for her to take it easy.

The following week on Raw, Damian’s girlfriend watching on television from their home as a surprising bout of morning sickness had prevented her from traveling with him, Damian made his normal entrance. But at the end, he turned his back to the camera that was zooming in, and on the back of the leather jacket he wore were the words girl dad. When again he faced the camera, he winked at the lens, and his girlfriend, now a sobbing mess on the couch, knew it was for her. 

💜💜💜

Third Trimester

Damian set his phone on the counter, making sure his girlfriend was in the frame as she was washing dishes before he pressed record. He approached her from behind, brushing her braids from her shoulder so he could pepper butterfly kisses along the crook of her neck. His big hands slid under her swollen belly and he lifted, relieving the pressure on her back, and her hands fell into the soapy water as she all but collapsed against him. Damian chuckled.

“Oh, wow,” his girlfriend moaned.

“How’s that feel?” Damian asked, though the answer was obvious. 

“You know you’re gonna have to stay like this until I push this baby out, right?” she replied, hardly kidding.

“Absolutely,” Damian replied. “I would do anything for the ladies in my life.” Their daughter chose that moment to kick against his hand a few times, and his embrace tightened around them both. “She must’ve heard me.”

“She always kicks when you’re close.”

💜💜💜

Damian officially announced the birth of their daughter on Instagram three months after her birth, though the WWE community’s speculation was always on point. The photo was only of the baby’s tiny feet, his thumb and his girlfriend’s thumb also in the frame, and it received over a million likes. Their family hadn’t seen the baby either, according to another cultural superstition, which had caused a bit of an outcry on his side, but he’d stood his ground—it was important to the mother of his child, which meant it was important to him.

“She’s perfect,” Damian quietly said as the couple stood beside their daughter's crib, simply watching her sleep.

“Because she’s part you,” his girlfriend said. 

Damian smiled, hugging her to him. “And part you.” A moment of silence and then, “Little Damina.”

“That is not her name!”

[kaeso4ka]

You've learned something about Cybertronian culture. You got to have a nasty conversation with Optimus

Pairing: yandere Optimus Prime x reader

The thought that kept you awake was, of course, the theme of freedom.

The theme of freedom permeated every inch of your life: your core, your essence, your mind. You were woven from the desire to be free. Just like any other person who has been held captive.

But thinking about it always led you to strange paradoxes. Unsolvable paradoxes. Like this one.

You sat on the platform, sawing the back of the working Optimus with your gaze, and couldn't decide where to begin your claim.

You had many complaints about Prime, but this one in particular...

You've never noticed Optimus Prime's arrogance. Quite frankly, you were the more arrogant of the two of you. By right of forced servitude, you tried to respond to Prime's superior strength with aggression.

And yet there was a much deeper issue. Unresolved, making her feel even more insecure.

“Optimus.”

“My Spark?”

“We need to have a serious talk,” it just so happened that you rarely spoke to Optimus. Usually he did the talking. Or you yelled at him. But this wasn't a conversation. It wasn't a discussion, and you knew - according to Megatron - that Optimus was hellbent on talking.

Prime didn't need to be told twice to have his full attention on you. Optimus lowered himself onto the platform next to you, his whole demeanor radiating a willingness to listen.

But instead of starting, you stared at Optimus for a few seconds. It was as if she were trying to find answers to her questions without voicing them.

“I'm not a slave,” the subject opened with a direct statement. You didn't like to voice the obvious, but you had to often, “do you agree?”

Optimus' optics flashed brighter. Prime was almost confused. Almost.

“Y/N...”

“Answer. Do you agree with those words?”

“Yes. You are not a slave,” Optimus accepted the rules of the conversation: he decided to wait for clarification.

“Good,” it became easier. At the very least, “indeed, I am not a slave. I am not a pet. Is that right or wrong?”

“Yes, my Spark. You are not a pet,” Optimus tried to find answers in your gaze, but you weren't looking at him. You weren't looking at anything.

“You're not above me...” you splayed your hands, ”physically, of course I am. But not socially. You're not my king, you're not my God. Your word is not more important than mine. I am your equal. Are you?”

Now Optimus was slow to answer.

“I don't want to lie to you, but let me ask you this: where are you going with this conversation?”

“Ratchet recently shared some articles with me... Cybertronian science articles. He told me to embrace my future culture. And I learned a lot: both that organics up until the war - and even now - were considered almost animal-like; and that Prime always towers over everyone... Even his own Bondmate,” you could barely contain your anger. The disgusting epithets bestowed upon billions of sentient metal fools in their pseudo-scientific articles were infuriating, “I understand my perspective perfectly well. I will be with you. You have and will continue to limit me. But I will not allow you to carry around in your CPU the idea that you are above, better, and more in charge than me. And it's not about the strength of your guns or the processing power of your CPU.”

The fact that Cybertron society has always been divided into stupid classes because of altmode didn't bother you... Until you admitted to yourself: one day you yourself will live in that society. You'll live, but you won't let anyone look down on you from the height of your own ignorance.

On Earth, that was easy. On Cybertron, hardly at all.

“I understand,” Prime's mechanisms sounded quieter, calmer. Even the tone of his voice became even more subdued, “I know how important this is to you. I have always treated you as an equal. Even if there were disagreements between us.”

“Disagreements.” You always had other terms for that, but there wasn't time for them now.

“That makes me happy,” you actually felt better. It would be doubly unpleasant if, somewhere inside, Optimus thought of you as nothing more than his toy. You longed for an equal confrontation, “I was relieved.”

The revelation burst out and hung in the air with a pleasant understanding silence. For the first time in forever.

[goodnightmemes]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS (PART TWO)

episodes: s01e05 - s01e07

❛ I'm trying to think of something more fucked up than this. ❜

❛ Stay out of my head. ❜

❛ I care for him more than he cares for himself. ❜

❛ A whole lot of concern's been wasted on you these past months. ❜

❛ Where are the bodies? ❜

❛ Well, then, I guess you better hope and pray you taught me how to clean up good. ❜

❛ You gonna let him do this to me? ❜

❛I'm never gonna forget what happened here. I hate you both. ❜

❛ Sounds like there's a maniac on the loose. ❜

❛ So much wine in his blood. And beer and whisky. ❜

❛ Happy? We were not happy. ❜

❛ Who am I supposed to love? ❜

❛ Why can't I make one? No matter how much blood I give them, they just lie there gaspin'. ❜

❛ What is this? Look at me. What have you done? ❜

❛ If you could find them, which you won't, they would shred you to strips, because you are built like a bird - because you are a mistake. ❜

❛ He treats us like shit and you take it! Why is that? ❜

❛ Been following you. You ain't been your careful self. ❜

❛ Don't... Don't run off. ❜

❛ Poor dear. She wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders. ❜

❛ Once you put it out there, they decide what it is. It can get away from you. ❜

❛ Assume we are under suspicion. ❜

❛ We should leave the city, start anew. ❜

❛ Should I do like you instead? Read the first pages of every book, pass myself off as cultured? ❜

❛ You draw me into your gloom. ❜

❛ So, quick stop home to do laundry before you fuck off for good. ❜

❛ If what I've read is lies, then tell me what's true. ❜

❛ The vampires out there are vicious. Oh...but you've learned that already. ❜

❛ Come with me!  I thought I could live without you, but I was wrong. ❜

❛ His love is a small box he keeps you in. Don't stay in it. ❜

❛ I fought myself a million times, fought my nature, controlled my temper. I never once harmed you. ❜

❛ Let him go. It's me you want. ❜

❛ Listen to me, and listen very carefully, my infant death. It was never you. ❜

❛ I have patiently waited in vain for you to love me... as I love you. ❜

❛ Just say it. Say, "I am never going to love you". It would help me a great deal to hear that from your lips...your quivering...hateful lips. ❜

❛ Excruciating pain was the proof I was still alive. ❜

❛ You know he's a vampire, right? ❜

❛ NDAs signed by any and all who cross the threshold, eh? ❜

❛ Are you still dreaming about our first meeting? ❜

❛ Are we the sum of our worst moments? Can we be forgiven if we do not forgive others ourselves? ❜

❛ You gonna be my knight in vengeful black? ❜

❛ Save your charity for the needful. ❜

❛ I was someone I don't want to be anymore. I've changed. Let me prove it to you. I'm nothing without you. ❜

❛ If you want me to go away, just say so. I'll obey you. I'll leave your life forever. ❜

❛ This silence is cruel. And you were never cruel. ❜

❛ Write me a song and put your lover's voice on it? What the fuck is wrong with your head? ❜

❛ Put some clothes on and get the fuck out. ❜

❛ The vampire bond. There is no human equivalent. Lover, murderer, maker. ❜

❛ It's a bond that can never fully be severed. A bond like that makes you believe there are only two of you on the planet. ❜

❛ I cried. I called to God. I didn't want this. But I have a capacity for enduring. ❜

❛ We leave the damage so we never forget the damage. ❜

❛ She's grown very protective of me. ❜

❛ I ask these questions because I'm trying to understand you better. ❜

❛ I'm sorry for your losses. ❜

❛ I admire your steadfast pursuit of a game you clearly have no acumen for. ❜

❛ You're ugly when you act like that. ❜

❛ They don't appreciate you like I do. ❜

❛ You're like me. You like to laugh. ❜

❛ Well, now that I'm dead, I can be whoever I want. ❜

❛ I seek refuge from complaints when I visit you, dear. ❜

❛ He's the father of lies. ❜

❛ This life, it does a number on the head, on the soul... if we even have a soul. ❜

❛ When he hurts you again, and he will, come find me. ❜

❛ You don't need me. You think you do, but you don't. You're smarter now. You see trouble coming a mile away. ❜

❛ You left without saying goodbye. Again. ❜

❛ Back in your cage, sweetheart. ❜

❛ We endure each other for [name]’s happiness. ❜

❛ I love you. I don't say it often enough anymore. ❜

❛ You threaten a life which will endure till the end of the world. ❜

❛ Are you a narc? ❜

❛ I want to interview you. ❜

❛ So...question. Can an immortal meet mortality? ❜

❛ We would spend our hours enduring, with little pretense of getting along, locked together in hatred. ❜

❛ Knowledge is the ocean's edge. ❜

❛ They say that Satan lives in this house. ❜

❛ Well, send Saint Peter our regards. ❜

❛ We have to leave this place. ❜

❛ Maybe start by telling me the plan? ❜

❛ You spend an hour alone with him and you're breathing in sync together. ❜

❛ I'll lose myself in him. ❜

❛ You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me. ❜

❛ I came to make peace with you. ❜

❛ No one's comin' to a party thrown by freaks. ❜

❛ You're gonna try to kill him at this party? ❜

❛ I mean, this is all good and... sufficiently creepy. What do you want? ❜

❛ Would you like to know the secret of immortality? ❜

❛ I wanted him dead. I wanted him all to myself. ❜

❛ I'm going to miss this place. ❜

❛ I was his, and he was mine. ❜

❛ Always the petty slights with you. ❜

❛ We are joined by a cord, by a cord that you cannot see, but it is real. It is real. ❜

❛ I have loved you...with all myself. ❜

❛ I'm happy it was you...here with me…at the end. ❜

❛ This horror that had been [name]...I stared helplessly at it. The thing lay still. ❜

❛ Murder? What murder? It was an act of mercy. ❜

❛ You didn't kill him. You spared him, out of some fucked-up idea you had about love. ❜

❛ We have to burn him. It's the only way we'll know! ❜

❛ You don't need a memoir. You need a hundred sessions of EMDR. ❜

❛ You've only heard half the story. ❜

❛ This time, I won't save your life. ❜

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

I've been thinking a lot about expectations this week.

A number of years ago, when I was visiting my brother, he criticized me for not doing something that he expected me to do. It was a frustrating talk because he wasn't at all willing to hear my perspective. But what bothered me the most about it was when I said "you can just ask" and he said "I shouldn't have to".

I was doing everything culturally expected of a good guest, I didn't even know what his extra expectations were, and yet he felt entitled to be mad at me for not automatically knowing them, and not living up to them.

It can be so easy for us to let our expectations get ahead of us, to make assumptions based on our own perspectives, and to then feel let down.

And I feel like I'm seeing a lot of this kind of thing in people's experience with media these days. There seems to be a clash happening between expectations and reality. And people feeling genuinely upset when the reality is not what they wanted.

I'm seeing a lot of complaints and "critiques" that seem to fall in to the category of "this is not how I personally want this to go" or "this doesn't resonate with my personal experience".

To be clear, I'm not saying this in a pointing fingers kind of way, because I have 100% done it myself.

When the trailer for Cutie Pie first came out, I got so excited imagining Kuea as some bad boy living a double life. He was going to be so hard to tame, he was going to put Lian through the wringer, and it was going to be amazing.

What I got was something very different from what I expected, and I struggled with the show.

But it was a really valuable learning moment for me. Because everything in the trailer was in the series. It was my interpretation of it, of those few minutes out of hours of material, my assumptions about the moments not yet shown, that caused me frustration.

That was a turning point in my "let's see where the journey takes us" philosophy. And I have to say, engaging in QL has been a hell of a lot more fun since I learned to let go of what I thought should happen.

I still have critiques of shows, of course I do. Nothing is above criticism. But I don't get so personally affronted now when something doesn't do what I expect. I'm more willing to see where the destination takes us before I decide the journey isn't working.

Of course I am still human, and I still get caught off guard sometimes by expectations I didn't realize I had let slip in.

But I have found my experience immeasurably improved by considering a few things when I'm watching a series:

Am I leading with curiosity, or judgment?

What is happening here culturally? What assumptions am I making based on my own background and country of origin? What happens if I step back and look at the bigger picture of how this culture engages with media? Do I even know, or do I have more to learn?

Is this actually bad... or is it just not for me? Is this just not resonating with me? Is it making me uncomfortable? What can this discomfort tell me about myself? Is it a bad show, or just a show I need to walk away from?

Am I more focused on the story I want told, and not paying enough attention to the story that the creators of the series want to tell? What assumptions am I making about their intent?

Am I only focused on what the value is for me as an individual, and not considering how this may be making other people feel seen or be meeting their needs? Can I acknowledge that there can be inherent value in things that do not give value to me personally?

There is value in critique, but there is also importance in self-reflection and understanding why we are feeling the way that we are, and when our own setting of expectations may be playing a role.

It's funny that in some ways this seems to be a reflection of what a golden age of QL we are living in - there are so many options, and time is so scarce, that I can see why people are frustrated when they feel like a show is not living up to what they wanted.

But as someone who has lived multiple decades without this kind of media, and only relatively recently having been able to experience it...there is a lot more to be gained by reveling in what you are loving than over what you are hating.

[f1ghtsoftly]

All The Women’s News You Missed Last Week 9/16/24-9/23/24:

Hi, this newsletter is late. On Thursday, September 19th, I was the victim of a crime and needed emergency medical care. I am currently recovering with family outside the city. This is the earliest I could get out this project. I appreciate your understanding at this time.

Male Violence/Femicide: 

US: Sean 'Diddy' Combs arrest live updates: Charged with sex trafficking and racketeering 

India: West Bengal Assembly in India passes bill mandating life in prison or death penalty for rape convictions

France: Shocking rape trial highlights the systematic struggles French sexual abuse victims face

Australia: Suspect in 1977 Melbourne cold case arrested in Italy

US: Several Mark Robinson campaign staffers quit as fallout over online posts continues

Italy: Italy holds a trial into the killing of a woman that sparked debate over femicide

US: Harvey Weinstein pleads not guilty to new sexual assault charge 

UK: Harrods' ex-owner Al Fayed raped, assaulted staff over decades, lawyers say 

Reproductive Rights in the USA/Special Focus:

A dramatic rise in pregnant women dying in Texas after abortion ban 

Abortion Bans Have Delayed Emergency Medical Care. In Georgia, Experts Say This Mother’s Death Was Preventable.

Federal judge temporarily blocks Tennessee’s ‘abortion trafficking’ law

‘She should be alive today’ — Harris spotlights woman’s death to blast abortion bans and Trump

Western nations were desperate for Korean babies. Now many adoptees believe they were stolen

Euphoric two years ago, US anti-abortion movement is now divided and worried as election nears

US Senate IVF bill fails after Republicans block it, despite Trump support

Transgender News/Gender Critical:

Australia: Australian woman's complaint at hostel backfires as manager fires back: 'This guest is lucky we didn't press charges on her'

Women’s Achievements: 

US: 2 Black women could make Senate history on Election Day

Sri Lanka: Sri Lanka has more women voters than men but no female presidential candidates

US: ‘Hidden Figures’ of the space race receive Congress’ highest honor at medal ceremony

MISC: 

Sweden: Sweden charges woman with genocide, crimes against humanity in Syria

Arts and Culture: 

Music Review: Katy Perry returns with the uninspired and forgettable ‘143'

Why does ‘The Babadook’ still haunt? Its director, Jennifer Kent, has some answers

JoJo was a teen sensation. At 33, she’s found her voice again

'Agatha All Along' crafts a witch coven community run by women

Demi Lovato’s ‘Child Star’ Is Now Streaming on Hulu and Disney+

As always, this is global and domestic news from a US perspective covering feminist issues and women in the news more generally. As of right now, I do not cover Women’s Sports. Published each Monday afternoon.

I am looking for better sources on women’s arts and culture outside of the English-speaking world, if you know of any-please be in touch.

[dykedvonte]

omg hi if it wouldn't be a bother i'd love if you could expand on your perspective on curly's character representing how patriarchy, rape culture, etc, negatively effect men?

I think Curly is there to represent the idealic person for the scenerior but in a lot of wrong place wrong time and a sort of deconstruction.

Curly’s enabling is never just the “He wouldn’t do that, he’s my friend, I know him.” type. Yes, he is not nearly as concerned as he should be with Jimmy’s behavior but he’s not completely blind to how he can be and is aware that Jimmy is just a guy who had it rough. He clearly is very keen on keeping Jimmy calm for the trip, very accommodating to all of them in a way that he honestly should be but can be used to explain away favoritism. If everyone can get away with a little something than it can then be extended to Jimmy. A big problem of Curly’s is he extends to much curtesy to everyone which a lot of people ignore to just focus on Jimmy and his relationship.

In specifics of rape culture, he’s the sad truth of people don’t immediately cut off the abuser. There is a lot of this in irl cases that can range from the inability to open the selfish not wanting to but here it’s because his relationship with the abuser is also not healthy/abusive, falling into the former with how confined they are despite how it can be seen as bros protecting bros due to how underplayed emotionally unhealthy relationships between men can be. His relationship with Jimmy is not just one of wanting to protect him from himself but keeping him docile, safe to bring around others. There is a tension in almost all of their private scenes where Curly is trying hard to make sure his words are understood and don’t set him off. It’s subtle but real and an aspect of RC that gets overlooked when it’s comes to men coming forward themselves or on behalf of others. The way they can’t directly oppose each other because their safety may be the least of their concerns. They know men and in this case he knows this man won’t target him but the others, especially Anya, case point: not wanting her to tell Jimmy alone.

There is an inherent intimidation that can also happen in male spaces we see Jimmy use due to the specific social condemnation effect he has with Curly. Even if he is a bad friend to Curly, he is a dear friend and a lot of apprehension with men on the side of Curly in RC comes from that social anxiety, that fear and the very real idea you or the person you were trying to help will be further retaliated against/isolated just like we see happen to an extreme in canon. We don’t know how much Curly and Jimmy interacted between the party and the crash. We can assume they didn’t at all or perhaps went on as normal, but we know something changed after the conversation with Anya both at night and in the cockpit.

I think the card being in the locker shows he was gonna make the complaint, taking her ID to get her numbers for the report as it isn’t there before hand. With the recent reblog of how complaints have to be filed, he was likely storing it, possibly it was close to a time he could send something if it was even possible. Though everything was inevitably too late.

Curly is the ideal man on paper in terms of a patriarchal system. In shape, handsome, the top of the pecking order, competent or otherwise on top of his perineal duties. The issue is he is deeply unhappy just as someone like Jimmy who reflects all the negatives. This should be what he wants but he’s realized it’s unfulfilling, boring and he’s given up too much of himself to get up a ladder he doesn’t even remember why he climbed in the first place. He is not keen on keeping that status, I am a contrarian in thinking he honestly didn’t care if the report when on his record, more so he was in shock it happened at all. Didn’t want to believe his friend actually did it and he of all people would have to be the one to turn him in for it. It’s selfish and it’s a personal thought but it’s real. It’s denial because even if you know it’s for justices sake, you grieve the friendship you had and the perceptions that were shattered. It’s not supposed to sound good or noble or kind because it isn’t, it’s human.

All together I think Curly represents a big way these systems negatively affect the men that everyone assume benefits. He’s unhappy with the power he has because it ties him to responsibilities that bring him no fulfillment, he also gets retaliated against by Jimmy because he was never immune and in a way was aware of it. He’s unequipped and nervous to handle such a delicate situation because it isn’t protocol, there’s no protocol. He followed the rules of all the concepts mentioned, trying to do the right and normal thing and it either left him with nothing to show for it or damned him and others in the end.

This is a shorter post than I would write but I just feel like I’ve tackled these aspects so much individually or in lumped together posts that unless it’s something specific I will just create run on tangents.

[yenleak]

A. Remy and her fanbase are the most problematic thing that happened in RC fandom

Not only she is rude to people being realistic/critical about her writing, but also clearly xenophobic and arrogant. I will never forgive her for the fact that she allows artists to draw people of color like this... Why making stories only about them – and their religion... – at all if she can't do any real research and figure out what she should be writing about?

Im also annoyed by the fact that SOTCN has no plot and too many holes in it. How does Livius know about Evthys' presence in that dream, if the dream did not belong to him, but to his ex? And what is generally known about the disease and why don't we hear anything about it? Why buy information about it to find out only the general features that we already heard about in previous chapters?.. It seems like the author herself just kind of threw the whole arc of disease to concentrate on Evthys' runaway.

KFS is weird, also. i am very concerned about the way Remy portrays the atmosphere in the story. The dynamics of relationship between Indians and British are so unclear? At one point they are very normal about presence of the whites, and Devi is so okay with marrying Ian even though they allegedly making plans and so on. I just mean that she has no thoughts other than couple of phrases in the beginning and we see very little of real relationships and historical accurate circumstances. And I think that you should be responsible for portrayal of the whole CULTURE and the least you can do is to make it less fetishized and inaccurate.

The way Remy is fully aware of what shes doing but purposefully ignores the amount of complaints our fandom has. She listens to her russian-speaking followers who do nothing but blindly admire her work without thinking about the representation she gives. And when someone point out on her mistakes she gets mad , subtly aggressive. If you know russian you can just take a look on her telegram channel and replies shes gives. Its arrogant and kind of disrespectful because the rejection of your own mistakes and the eternal justification and blame on others shows your true attitude towards your readers.

My main complaint is only about how illiterate she writes, how much she takes on herself and how she doesn't give a fuck about other cultures. And the fact that so many people love her and then misunderstand POC makes it so much worse