#and i fully believe that they will make it better

[fastandcarlos]

Little Boy Growing Up : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: you can't contain your emotions as your son attends nursery for the very first time

As the car came to a stop, a lump ran down your throat as you studied the building that you had toured a couple of weeks ago. Next to you, Daniel was just as nervous, knowing what was about to come, not quite sure he was fully prepared for it. 

“Shall we go in?” You smiled, turning back in your seat to look at your son. “This is the place where you’re going to be staying today sweetheart.” 

“Let’s go!” Your son cheered, hurrying to get out of the car. 

Daniel climbed out and walked around to help him get out, unfastening her seatbelt and lifting him out of her seat. “I can’t believe my baby boy is growing up.” 

“Daniel,” you chuckled, climbing out of the car too and giving your son a hug. “He’s only going to nursery, he’s not going to prom or anything just yet.” 

Since you agreed to start taking your son to nursery, Daniel had been relatively calm. But now that he was here, he was struggling to contain his emotion and not let it get the better of him. 

“Baby,” you whispered, pulling your son closer to you. “Do you think you could go and give daddy a really big squeeze, I think he’d love that right now.” 

Your son did as you asked, sprinting over to Daniel and leaping into his arms. “Are you excited?” Daniel asked him, forcing a smile onto his face. “What am I going to do without you by my side today?” 

“You’ll have fun too,” your son assured him. 

Your eyes were drawn to the tight hold that Daniel had on him, refusing to let him go. “Come on, we can’t stand out in the car park all day,” you tried to tell them both. 

Daniel reluctantly let your son go as you took his hand, Daniel deciding it was best for him to wait in the car. A member of nursery staff was immediately at the door with a warm smile, especially as she saw how excited your son was. 

“Hi sweet boy,” she chimed, kneeling down so that she was at his height. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” 

Your mouth opened to say goodbye, but your son was already off and beginning to explore the place. You handed his bag over, standing in astonishment at how easily he took to nursery, quickly finding the toys that he liked and talking to the other children who were with them playing. 

“It’s nice not to deal with tears for once,” the staff member joked. “I’ll make sure to keep an extra close eye on him today and see how he settles in. If we have any problems, I’ll make sure to give you a call.” 

You waved goodbye before heading back across to the car. As you opened the door, Daniel quickly wiped underneath both of his eyes before smiling across at you. 

“Everything good?” You asked, watching Daniel closely. His head nodded, but the look on his face told you a completely different story.  

You stayed still for a moment before reaching across and taking a hold of Daniel’s hand, silently reminding him that you were right there with him. 

“I didn’t think I’d find this so hard,” he admitted in a whisper, “especially as he’s found it all so easy.” 

“It’s nice to know he’s excited,” you responded. 

Daniel hummed in agreement, “I’m glad that he was looking forward to this, I guess I just wasn’t looking forward to losing him.” 

“You’ve not lost him Daniel, you’ll see him in seven hours.” 

The two of them had always been undeniably close, when Daniel was home every second was spent with your son, hanging out, doing whatever they wanted to do, making as many memories together as possible. 

Daniel had worked hard on preparing your son for nursery, prepping him with skills, conversation starters and teaching him about sharing too. Daniel wanted his son to be liked, he knew that he would be popular, he was a mini Daniel after all. 

Your hand squeezed against Daniel’s tightly, “I bet he would want for us to enjoy ourselves whilst he’s at nursery you know Daniel.” 

Daniel’s eyes widened, “I can’t believe I have to spend my day with you now, can’t I go and get him back and hang out with him instead?” 

“Excuse me, we’ll have a great time together.” 

Daniel’s eyes rolled as you hit against his arm, encouraging him to put his foot down and get driving. You knew that he was only messing with you, but at the same time, you knew no one could fill the void that your son left in his life when he wasn’t around. 

“He’s going to learn a lot being at nursery, he’ll grow as a person,” you told Daniel. 

“There’s plenty that I could teach him though,” he argued. 

Your head shook as Daniel continued to protest. Although he had taught your son plenty, there were some things in life that a parent couldn’t teach their child. 

“He’s going to be around kids his own age, not around stinky drivers who are sweaty and gross,” you teased, “and it means we get more time together too.” 

Daniel’s eyes narrowed back across at you, “there’s nothing wrong with hanging out with racing drivers, we actually happen to be pretty cool guys.” 

“I know, I was stupid enough to marry one of them.” 

As the two of you pulled out from the nursery, you could see Daniel arguing with himself. There was a small part of him that wanted to run in and take your son, but he knew that he couldn’t, eventually listening to you and driving away, as much as it killed him. 

Despite his protests, Daniel knew that nursery was going to be good for your son, it was a chance for him to see more, do more, meet new people, everything that Daniel had ever wanted for him.  

After a few minutes he began to relax again, leaning back in his chair as he focused on the road, trying to forget about the fact that he had lost his little man for a few hours. 

“What are we going to do now that it’s just the two of us?” You asked him. 

Daniel’s eyes flickered across to you, “well, seeing as I’ve essentially just lost a child, there’s a bit of a void in my life now that needs to be filled.” 

“You’ve not lost your child, he’s just growing up, that’s what we all do Daniel.” 

His shoulders shrugged, but still his eyes looked suggestively across at you. Now that your son was growing up, the two of you had more time on your hands again, and Daniel definitely wasn’t happy just settling on having one child. 

“We’ve been blessed with one incredible child; would it be so bad if we thought about another one?” Daniel quizzed, offering you a wide smile. “Doesn’t now seem like the perfect time to start thinking about these things, like you said, we’re not getting any younger.” 

“How long have you been planning this?” You chuckled, shaking your head across at him. “We’ve just said goodbye to one child for the day and now you’re planning the next one.” 

Daniel’s shoulders shrugged, an innocent expression etched upon his face. “I’m not necessarily thinking about having a child straight away, but it’s important that we get lots of practice in for it beforehand.” 

“Is that really where your mind is at? You’re impossible sometimes Daniel Ricciardo.” 

“Hey, look at you! Can you blame me?” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[wilwheaton]

Certain people, growing out of trauma and exhaustion which I fully understand, believe there’s some power or badassery or even a species of courage in saying, “yeah, since when does Donald Trump follow the law!?!?” or “Just admit that we have no power!!!” But it’s actually precisely the opposite. That’s the most pernicious form of anticipatory obedience. Deciding that all of this stuff has already happened is not only inaccurate but self-defeating. It’s amplifying threats Trump hasn’t been able or willing to make good on. A better answer, both more effective and more dignified, is to say, “Okay, let’s see you try.” It’s not easy. There are lots of road blocks. It requires maintaining a lot of public support. It requires patience.

The Most Pernicious Anticipatory Obedience Hides in Plain Sight

[marzipanandminutiae]

Twh corset apologism is insane. Every medical professional with knowledge to day says wearing a back support all day every day is BAD for you!!!!!! "Less supportive" corsets were better for people and also it's funny how corsets are apparently the savior of big titty women to you but comfortable flexible corset that holds your tits in shouldn't be worm because if regressive? fuck off

I literally had to read this like three times to understand what you were saying and I'm still not fully sure I do

first of all, most doctors say that wearing back braces does not cause muscle atrophy. they're pretty quick to reassure people of that online, in a way that makes it kind of hilarious that they believe it of corsets that support the same muscles as aforesaid braces. here is a study on the matter, and a search for "do back braces cause muscle atrophy" will turn up a lot more info for you

secondly, I don't know what you're talking about re: "comfortable flexible corset that holds your tits in." are you referring to bras? if so, there's certainly nothing inherently wrong with them; the support from the shoulders can be less comfortable for some people than the support from over/underneath that a corset provides, but I've never said one is unilaterally better than the other for everyone

are you talking about 1920s corsets or corset/binder combos? because if so...yeah that's not "comfortable;" it's Spanx + a binder. It was designed to flatten, not merely support, and it was basically an elastic band squishing your torso. I'm sure that wasn't a universal torture device either- women got things done in it, clearly -but it's hardly the ideal support option

or you could be talking about something else entirely. it's really hard to say

anyway. corsets were not unilaterally awful. the medical "evidence" against them is over a century old across the board, often guesswork at best and misrepresentation of preserved specimens at worst, from doctors who had no access to modern diagnostic tools and also thought vigorous exercise could cause uterine prolapse. reliable primary sources suggest that most women did not wear them in a way that caused physical injury or significant discomfort, on a daily basis. of course not all women found even moderately-laced corsets comfortable, and it would be naïve to suggest that tightlacing never happened. but those are not the claims I'm making here

if that's "corset apologism," then I'm a horrible, brainwashed corset apologist, babey

[aikya-kat-44]

This is my life.

I always knew something was off about my friendships. I was told by adults I was overthinking. Then I found out the truth when I was 5.

Because my best friend, after ages giving those subtle signs, finally revealed their dislike of being my friend.

I thought they were the one person I could always count on. I was wrong. I would never quite trust anyone fully again.

Do you know what it's like to watch your mother cry? Believing she is ugly because of her dark skin, wishing she was fair like you. It is heartbreaking. I wanted to take her tears away. I wanted to hug her and never let go. Do you know what it's like to know that your parents are working their butts off to give you a better life than they had, only for you to push away food for no reason even you could explain? Do you know what it's like to cry alone in your room about seemingly nothing?

My teachers hated me for doing things everyone else was supposed to. Because I'm brown and I didn't bring in Indian food for them as a 'gift' every lunchtime. Because I used to point out their mistakes in class when they made them. Because I didn't have to pay attention to succeed in school. Because I didn't pay attention. Because no matter what, I was in the wrong and everyone else was in the right.

So I learned to lie. The people in my life taught me that it wasn't safe to be myself outside, so I wore a mask. One that made me 'good'. One that made me palatable. One that locked away almost all of who I truly was.

I made new friendships that were born to die every time. I learned not to get too attached, to distance myself to avoid hurting others. I got a reputation for being calm and mature for my age. I suppose you could almost call me popular. Except all popular really was was to live surrounded by false friends. But somewhere along the way I made a true friend. One who supported me. One who didn't treat me like I had to earn the right to exist in their social sphere by changing myself to fit in.

I would feel guilty for taking up their time. I would feel like I was using them every time I told them one of my problems. Because I had always been taught I was manipulative and unwanted, so now I believed it.

I almost felt wanted, then. My friends had become family. I belonged.

I suppose my brief happiness was never meant to last. Because one night, someone flicked a switch. We grew up, maybe. Maybe an evil sleep demon whispered in all their ears but mine. But suddenly all my friends were fighting. Everyone seemed to hate everyone else. And, once again, I was no longer welcome.

Alone again, as always.

I moved house. It made things worse.

I hated the new place where I lived. My parents, who had always been the most supportive and loving people in my life, thought I was overreacting (even they'd never understand). All I could do was cry the night away. I felt both too numb and too emotional at the same time.

My new teachers liked me about as much as my old ones had. But I was falling behind in my schoolwork. I had always been good at school without trying, but now, for the first time, I was getting average grades, and I lacked the motivation to even look at a question for more than 1 minute. It was an endless spiral of frustration, confusion and doubt.

High school is, after all, where dreams go to die.

There were people just as homophobic and racist at my new school as at my old one. But there were people who were nice. So nice. I wanted desperately to be friends with them. But I knew I could not, because I had bullied myself into believing I would destroy any connections I made. That I was unworthy of affection. It's like I was cursed to be forever longing, looking from the outside in.

So every time people got close to me, I started acting like the jerk I believed myself to be. Pushing them away before I could hurt them. Before I could be hurt. I could outneurotypical the neurotypicals practically when masking, when I had to make a good impression on someone who I would only know on basic terms, but when it came to trying to forge meaningful bonds I had no words. I couldn't. I had a hundred million words to lie with, but not one that could capture the truth. To make someone understand. All I wanted was for someone to understand. Nobody understands. Everybody seemed to hate me.

That is why when my friend disagrees with me, and screams that I am manipulative and always make things too hard, all I can do is agree with them.

a bottom-tier autistic experience is being told throughout your entire childhood that you are just an overthinker when it comes to social situations and later finding out that your friends did, in fact, hate being around you and tried to communicate that through weird little hints

[juanitascribbles]

I want to talk a bit about a part of Ralph's character that I don't see brought up as much as other aspects of WIR, and that's the concept of self-sabotage. I put it under a read-more because it's rather long.

Obviously, one of the main themes in this movie is self-acceptance, and that part is not exactly subtle. Ralph very plainly states that he believes he "can't make things - just break them," and while he does say that he can be a "good guy" I don't think he's really confident in that fact during the course of the movie. He brushes off most negative comments he receives, but we can see that others' perceptions of him have impacted his perception of himself and the actions he's taken (or hasn't taken) throughout his life. Vanellope greatly helps him change his perspective and accept himself, but I think he had the capacity to do this on his own. This is where the theme of self-sabotage comes in.

Ralph places the entirety of his problems, solutions to said problems, and self-worth on external factors, and while yes a big part of his problems do come from discrimination and being ostracized, he also exacerbates his own problems. He has many resources fully available to him the whole time. He just doesn't take advantage of them because he feels he can't, perhaps feels he doesn't deserve it, or maybe because it doesn't even occur to him that he can.

For example, the dump:

We see at the end of the movie that Ralph has built himself a home, and he does it entirely on his own. Note how the pieces he uses to build his house are right behind him in the beginning of the movie.

Living in the dump is out of his control, but what has always been in his control is the ability to make himself a better home right where he was at. He simply didn't do it because he didn't believe he could and (I assume) never tried.

Next we have the Bad-Anon meeting.

Ralph makes it very clear that he is lonely and wants a friend, but he has had the opportunity to make friends for years and never did. When he's told that the other villains have felt the same things he feels, he's surprised. But why? It makes complete sense that others in similar situations as Ralph would feel the same as him. He simply assumed that they wouldn't. "There's no point in going. They wouldn't understand me anyway. Nobody does" might be a reason he never went. Perhaps the idea of reaching out to others was too uncomfortable for him (Vanellope does mention him needing to go outside of his comfort zone). On top of this, he isn't receptive to the advice he's given at the end of their meeting. They didn't tell him what he wanted to hear so in his mind they still just don't "get" him. He blocks himself from making useful connections because of his own perceptions and assumptions.

Finally, I want to touch on Ralph's poor hygiene.

Throughout the movie, Ralph's poor hygiene is commented on by several characters (including himself) and on the surface is treated as a joke. What I find interesting is the juxtaposition between his own lack of cleanliness and his reaction to unclean things around him.

He is very squeamish. Despite living in a dump and smelling awful, he has no tolerance for any "gross" things he comes into contact with and lists the lack of hygiene as a negative. I do think this is, in part, a result of external factors he cannot control. Like the previous examples, however, I think this is also a result of neglecting himself and not taking advantage of the resources that have always been around him. I am inferring a bit, but hear me out.

Ralph can't access the penthouse to wash up, but it's highly likely he could have access to facilities in other games had he allowed himself to open up and simply ask for help. I'm sure any of the bad guys from his Bad-Anon meetings would be more than happy to offer him the resources he needs. There are a ton of other games that likely have accessible facilities, and he's not exactly barred from entering them. Surge Protector does not hinder him from entering or leaving any game, despite the frequent stops. Instead of using the washroom in Tappers to clean himself up, he (allegedly) passes out in it after drinking all night. Ralph is rather depressed at the beginning of his journey, and maintaining proper hygiene is something a lot of depressed people struggle with.

I think self-sabotage, isolation, and rejecting available resources is something a lot of people can relate to. Of course there will always be circumstances that are out of our control, but often there are things we are fully capable of taking into our own hands and making the effort to change. We simply for some reason believe that we can't or are too scared to try. The negative feelings we have about ourselves and allowing ourselves to remain stuck in our current situations can become more comfortable than the idea of external or internal change and taking risks.

For Ralph, he doesn't seem to take much action to change what he can on his own until he's reached a boiling point. He's consistently passive (or passive-agressive) until his negative feelings become too much to bear, and it definitely bites him in the ass or... face ig.

This is something I've struggled with and continue to struggle with to this day. While I'm not at all claiming this movie is the first or last to cover these topics (or even the most subtle or the best ever at doing so), I do think it's very well done. These themes definitely resonate more with me now that I'm older and have experienced more of these feelings myself. It's just one of all the little elements wrapped up in a candy coated 8-bit bow that makes this movie so special to me.

[haniyassers-blog]

Hani’s Story: Struggles and Hope in a Time of War

In a world full of noise and fast-moving events, we are living in a profound silence, as if we have vanished from existence without anyone hearing our voice. My family and I live in harsh conditions in a school that has been turned into a shelter for displaced people in southern Gaza, under unbearable heat and in a place filled with pain and tears.

We’ve lost our home, we’ve lost everything, even the sense of safety. I live with my sick mother who suffers from chronic illnesses and requires constant care, my brother who was injured in a previous accident and now lives with a 70% disability, and my younger siblings who don’t understand why we are living in such difficult conditions.

Each day that passes, I feel like we are sinking deeper into our suffering. Every message I send goes unanswered, as if we are invisible, as if we are living in this world only to witness our pain without anyone noticing us. Yet, despite all this, I still hold onto hope, believing that there are people who will hear us, who will care about what we are going through. Not for the sake of money, but so that we can feel that we still matter, that someone remembers us.

I am not asking you for money, I am simply asking you to share my story, to ask about us, to remember us in your prayers or your posts. The hope that I am trying to hold onto for my family is slowly fading, and I need someone to acknowledge our existence, to lift this heavy silence surrounding us.

By sharing this story, you can make a big difference. Nothing is harder than feeling forgotten, but every word, every share, every small gesture can bring back hope for a better tomorrow. We are not asking for much, just that you be part of this hope.

Your support means hope to us.

Thank you for your care.

My campaign is legitimate and fully documented. You can verify this through the following links:

🔹 Shab Hussein

🔹 90 Ghost

🔹 Gazavetters My number is 5 on the list.

Every support or share makes a big difference and restores hope in our lives.

Thank you for your care and support, which gives us the strength to continue.

[theeoriginals]

“It was- not love at first sight, but familiarity. Like, oh, it’s you.” With Klaus or Elijah please! Something to make me feel better while I do this awful assignment 🥲

deep breaths | elijah mikaelson

pairing: elijah mikaelson x reader (no y/n!)

warnings: noneeee this is just sweet

author’s note: i wrote this at work on my phone just now so sorry if it’s not the best <3

The thing is, Elijah Mikaelson has lived many, many lives. He has had so many names, faces, stories, and voices he can hardly remember them all at this point. That, he supposes, is just part of the curse of immortality. Esther likely didn’t think that far ahead out of her grief when she turned them all into monsters. She didn’t think to consider that she wasn’t saving herself anymore loss, she was cursing her children, leading them to damnation and then blaming them for what she did.

Elijah would likely live another thousand years before he was able to fully comprehend all of the tangled, contradictory emotions that came with vampirism. A gift and a curse, like most things.

What he could for certain say was that he’s loved just as much as he’s hated. He would even argue that you can’t possibly know what it means to hate someone unless you loved them before, unless you still loved them. And although he believed that, he was not someone to give second chances often. At least not to anyone besides his siblings— though that was a different beast altogether.

Elijah knew that even if he hated someone, someone else could love that person just as much. He’d seen it often enough, felt betrayal in his gut like a stake to the heart.

Love, in all of its glory, was not often kind to Elijah.

So whenever his siblings found it necessary to tease him for being so uptight and closed off, he did nothing more than roll his eyes, because it was much easier than telling them that he was scared. Truly, deeply, in his ancient bones, he was scared. Not of love itself, but of the continuously growing sense that he would never truly find real love. And perhaps it was entirely too human of him to think that way, and perhaps it made him weak to some, but Elijah knows that his brothers and sisters more than anyone crave love just as much as he does. He knows they feel it just as deeply as he does, that want in their bones that rushed through their blood, the want for someone to just come in and never leave.

It’s hard to find that when you outlive most people. Harder than one might think, even if you fall in love with an immortal being. It’s not just that he’ll outlive most everyone he could fall in love with, either. It’s that every time it seems he’s done it, he’s fallen in love even knowing it won’t last but letting it happen anyway, it doesn’t— it doesn’t fill that void inside of him.

It doesn’t flood his mind and his body, it doesn’t fill him with life, it doesn’t make him want to breathe.

Elijah doesn’t have to breathe, but he wants someone to make him feel like he has to.

For the past thousand years he’s fought and won and lost, and he’s done his best to keep his family alive despite everything they do to drive him insane, despite the fact that they try to kill each other more than anyone else. He has been holding his breath for a thousand years, fighting and fighting and fighting. He wants to exhale.

He can’t explain this to his siblings. They would understand, he knows, but it’s something he’s never said out loud to himself let alone anyone else. Saying it out loud makes it real, and he can’t— he can’t admit it. When you are drowning, when you are holding your breath, you don’t realize you’re drowning for a long time. And the moment that you do, you realize that you can’t breathe and suddenly you’re gasping for air and you’ve all but killed yourself.

Elijah can’t admit that he’s drowning.

He sighs loudly, and it’s not an exhale and it doesn’t lift that weight off of his shoulders. It’s an expression of his annoyance with his siblings, because this far into their collective immortality, all they live for is getting on each other’s nerves.

And here at Rousseau’s is the last place he wants to entertain their petulance. You never know who could be listening, and Elijah really doesn’t want anyone less than favorable to hear about his love life, or lack thereof.

“I wish you’d just bring someone home to meet us at least once!”

“I wish I could go out and have a drink without being harassed by you people,” Elijah says moodily.

Rebekah pushes her bottom lip out in a pout and widens her eyes in a way that has always gotten her anything she wants from anyone ever. Elijah is, in fact, very aware that he and his brothers have worked overtime in making her as ridiculously spoiled and entitled as she is and yet he still manages to be surprised when she behaves like this.

“We aren’t harassing you, Elijah, we want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”

He sighs again and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again and fixing them on Rebekah and Klaus. “It’s not wrong. But I don’t know what you expect me to do about my lack of prospects, it’s not like the perfect person can be conjured at whim.”

Klaus lifts a finger and Elijah knows that he’s going to say something ridiculous before he even speaks. The gleam in his eye never bodes well for anyone. “I bet we could find a witch to do just that. We could compile all of your wants and desires in a partner and get a witch to mix it all together for you. Problem solved, Elijah has a soulmate!”

Elijah gives his brother a deadpan look. “Is this witch Victor Frankenstein?”

Rebekah snorts in amusement, and Elijah dutifully ignores it.

“Be creative, Elijah! Open your mind,” Klaus swipes an arm out dramatically, sloshing his drink over the side of his glass, splashing a few drops of bourbon onto Elijah’s suit jacket.

Elijah’s lip curls in distaste and he gives his brother a look of disdain that goes ignored.

“I have an open mind, what I don’t have is an open schedule,”

“You are not as busy as you like to believe,” Rebekah drawls out, finishing off her own drink. “Your life will never change if you don’t go out and do something different! You’ll be stagnant forever, and I do mean forever, brother,”

“I will never be stagnant with your dramatics, Rebekah,”

She rolls her eyes at his avoidant response. “Your love life is stagnant. I don’t even think stagnant is the proper word, it is downright nonexistent. It is extinct.”

“Thank you, Rebekah,”

“Even if you have a sleazy, completely forgettable one night stand, you need to do something. You’re constantly dealing with us, you need to focus on yourself!”

Elijah pours the rest of his bourbon down his throat, barely tasting it as he swallows. “Maybe if you did less idiotic things that I have to deal with I’d have a more active love life. And truly, I’m not sure why I’m being lectured when you two are the furthest thing from romantically successful.”

“I have a child, I’m plenty romantically successful!”

“She was conceived during a drunken one night stand with a werewolf who is now married to someone else.”

“The details don’t matter, I have a child to show for it. I have a father’s wisdom now, you should listen to me!”

Elijah raises an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I am not part dog and therefore am actually incapable of reproducing much like you thought you were. And considering the trials and tribulations we went through with Hope, I can’t imagine I’d have any better luck in my own venture to fatherhood.”

“You’re being purposefully obtuse,”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Elijah simpers, gesturing to the bartender for another round for them.

“I have a challenge,” Rebekah cuts in before Klaus can continue their bickering, and Elijah narrows his eyes at the determined gleam in her eyes.

“I don’t like this,”

Rebekah dismisses him with a flutter of her fingers. “The next person to walk through that door, I want you to go and talk to them. You don’t have to have a one night stand, you absolute prude, but you need to speak to someone that you’re not related to, and that isn’t trying to kill you.”

“Rebekah—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Just do this one thing for me, for your darling little sister,”

“My darling little sister—”

“Shut up, look! Someone’s walking inside, get ready to go be your charming self,”

Elijah groans and turns to look at the door as it opens and someone walks through. He sighs again, weighted, empty, scared.

When he lifts his gaze, though, he finds a woman. He takes her in— eyes, nose, lips, hair— and thinks beautiful.

The bar is as crowded as ever, no breaks in sight for the bartenders and waiters, and he’s tucked away at a table with Klaus and Rebekah in the back corner because they are particularly antisocial and Klaus really just wanted to use this outing as a way to remind everyone that they are still here, and that New Orleans is still theirs. The exit is across the room, Elijah has not paid much attention to the distance at all, and yet now.

Now, the crowd of people in between him and the door is frozen and endless. Elijah’s standing before he realizes, and it feels like he’s stepping around the people frozen mid-laugh, mid-drink, mid-bite, because the world has stopped just long enough for him to cross the room.

He parts the crowd and stops before her, eyes roaming over her face. Committing it to memory and vowing to keep it there for the rest of his eternal years.

She looks at him with a smile, blinking at him slowly like she’s got all the time in the world. There’s a necklace sitting on her chest that has a familiar blue stone hanging off of it and he inhales sharply.

He thinks vampire, perhaps a coincidence but things rarely are for him and it’s something new to think that she is immortal, too, of course more fragile than an Original but if she’s smart, and he knows that she is, he can feel it, then she’ll last just as long.

“Hi,” She speaks first, and the world starts up again, the noise comes back and people unfreeze. Now that he’s stood here before her, the world can keep spinning, but it had to wait— it just had to wait for him to catch up.

“Hello,” He responds quietly, too quiet for the bar, but she hears it anyway. “I’m Elijah.”

Her smile widens and she says, “I think I knew that already,” and then she tells him her name and Elijah repeats it for himself, and then for her, and then he turns it over in his head a hundred times over so it never gets lost.

She tilts her head slightly, looking up at him. “Were you trying to leave? Am I in your way?”

“No,” He responds quickly, almost rushed. “Not unless you’re leaving, too.”

She seems pleased at his response and the longer he looks in her eyes, he thinks he’s found a new favorite color.

“I’m not leaving,”

Elijah exhales, and the weight is gone, and the void is no more. And he thinks— oh.

There you are.

[malcolmschmitz]

The problem I had with it wasn't that it was About Sports. I liked the weird football, and I liked Jon Bois' writing.

The problem is that in an effort to make it About Sports, Bois completely denigrated every other part of the human experience in a way that I found off-puttingly cynical. It's not just that eye wouldn't play sports, it's that --

Okay, so, in The Left Hand Of Darkness, Ursula K. Leguin has a line about how Genly is trying to explain to the King of Karhide why he'd want to join basically-the-Federation. And he says something along the lines of "I couldn't explain the real reasons you'd want to join the Ekumen and explore space. Curiosity. Wonder. Delight. None of these things exist in the language of kings."

...The language of sports is also the language of kings. Most sports games - even the cerebral ones like chess- are about conquest, power, and domination. There's no room for curiosity and wonder on a football field. And that's fine. There doesn't need to be. People need an outlet for their need to CONQUER and BE STRONG, and sports is a way, way, way better outlet for that than most of the things humanity has come up with.

I have no problem with the weird football. I firmly believe that if you gave Americans 10,000 years of immortality, they would invent Weird Football and American society could easily come to revolve around it. I think people like my grandparents- who are incredibly sporty and spend most of their time playing tennis and golf- would follow it avidly. I can buy that most or all people would at least participate.

...But Bois expects the reader to believe that in, give or take, 10,000 years of immortality, people would fully give up on curiosity, wonder, and delight. Bois expects the reader to believe that in, give or take, 10k years of immortality, everyone but a few cranks would speak the language of kings and only the language of kings.

I cannot believe that, and it makes me really sad to imagine a world where that's true. I liked where 17776 was going with the satellites and the football, but I had to put it down because its view of humanity was just too bleak for me. It wasn't about the sports, it was about the deliberate absence of all the other things that make life worth living.

Reducing that to "but EYE wouldn't play SPORTSBALL" is ... kinda mean and reductive.

i see a lot of criticism towards 17776 along the lines of “ugh if humanity actually stopped aging or dying and people really did just live forever they would not spend their time playing football… that is not what EYE would do with MY time…. this is so unrealistic….. clearly the author just wanted to write about sports 🙄😒” and like. yeah. yes. exactly. jon bois is a sports writer and sports analyst who wanted to examine why people love sports and why sports have cultural staying power and why he especially finds sports compelling and what sports have to say about the human condition and our ability to care. so he made up a fake scenario about humans being immortal and then he made it about sports. and he wrote about sports. the story is titled ‘what sports will look like in the future.’ if that isn’t something that you can vibe with then maybe the story simply is not for you

[tojisth3rdwife]

For her…

syn: a certain time of year was particularly hard for Toji, and you start to understand why..

cw: angst. grief. mamaguro🥹🕊️

a/n: idk..was in my feels today i guess🫠 relax and enjoy some bittersweetness with me

No one ever flat out told you why one day out of the year was just…different..at the Fushiguro house.

You were pretty perceptive of the change in Toji’s demeanor. The melancholic sheen over his eyes when he’d look at you, barely holding eye contact when you asked him a question and him being dismissive if it had anything to do with how he was acting.

He wasn’t mean or less patient with you or Megumi. He was just..different. He didn't say much. His laughter sounded a tad off, even forced at times. He slept a bit longer, usually blaming it on a recent job or his age, jokingly of course.

He moved around as if he operated on autopilot, unlike the agile and conscientious man you’d learned Toji to be . You’d catch him zoning out alot or being a little more forgetful than usual. Less focused, as if his mind was somewhere far away. Another place. Another time.

One summer morning you noticed a bottle of strawberry soda in the back of the fridge, tucked behind several items as if it were purposely placed there. Hidden. You’d only seen it because Megumi struggled to reach something on the same shelf, so you helped him You'd been meaning to ask Toji since when he even iiked that brand, seeing as how you never saw him or Megs drink it. You didn’t know him to be much of a soda drinker unless it was the occasional Coke on a scalding hot day.

But when you went back the next day to find it, it was gone. When you finally asked him about it, he’d just say he got it for Megs but he never drank it, and it had been in there for a while so he threw it out. That would have been believable if you didn’t find the same bottle hidden a little better in the back of the fridge again that following year around the same time.

“It's for my mom.” Megumi’s raspy voice makes you flinch from where he spooked you on the other side of the door. He was now tall enough to see over it, his lithe form springing up with each passing day it seemed. You blinked at him in surprise, your mouth gaping and in search of a reasonable excuse to be holding the soda that you’d dug out from the depths of the ice box. The chilled glass bottle was clutched against your chest when the spikey-headed boy stepped towards the open fridge to reach around you for a yogurt drink.

"Oh...I wasn't.." you stammered, only for the broody adolescent to interrupt you.

“It's her birthday tomorrow,” Megumi mutters shortly after he peels the cap back a little to take a sip, not saying anything else about the soda before walking away.

You watched him exit the kitchen in silence, an odd sensation tingling in your chest. You never heard Megumi speak of his late mother. Not even when he was smaller. From what you know, Toji's wife passed away shortly after Megumi was born. Something about an underlying heart condition that worsened after giving birth. Megs wasn't even a year old yet, so it made some sense that he didn't speak of her. He probably had no memories of his mother and was always accustomed to it just being him and his dad.

Until now at least...

Your attention returns to the soda, its slow-rising bubbles lining the neck of the glass bottle as you turn it slowly in your hand.

So every year, around his late wife's birthday, Toji bought the same brand of strawberry soda. For her.

Now that you thought of it, there was always this errand he’d always have to run on a certain day every year. Too consumed with life and work, you didn't realize it was on the same day. Every year.

An errand that would take him far out of the city very early in the morning.

You would roll over in the bed groggily, noting Toji sitting on the edge of his side. He’d be leaned over, lacing up his boots, fully dressed and smelling good. You knew sometimes he and Shiu would meet up early to discuss business so you never asked for details when he'd kiss your forehead goodbye.

He always came back to you around noon with a bouquet of sunflowers and red roses though, from a shop way out of the way, with a card that would read the same thing every time.

For you, just because <3

Toji knew you loved them and it made you less curious about his mysterious errand when he came back bearing gifts. In hindsight, you felt stupid and selfish for thinking they were 'just because' flowers now that you knew what this day meant to him.

Especially when you looked up the flower shop and found out it was less than a mile away from a cemetery.

That was why one year, days before he could find time to go to the store, and days after he gave you the heads up on his early morning errand, Toji found the newly bought bottle of strawberry soda in the fridge. You weren't around when he found it, which made the lump in Toji's throat even thicker at the realization.

He never really told you that every July 7th, he would visit a little florist's shop at the edge of a small town an hour away, where the owner would have a special arrangement that Toji ordered every year waiting for him. Preserved lilies and pink roses, a small bag of items from the convenience store across the street, and two glass bottles of soda (one strawberry and one Coke ) rest in his passenger seat for another 3 to 5 minutes as he pulls into the parking space that was always empty.

The morning sun warms his skin on his walk across the grass. Flowers, and plastic bag in tow, Toji steps with purpose on his way to his wife's grave. For a few minutes, he takes his time using the items in the small bag to scrub and rinse any dirt or grime tainting the granite. In the early years, Toji would visit and clean her grave stone frequently. He’d even bring baby Megumi with him since they still lived in the small town. The place where he and his wife made a life together.

But one day, after about 2 years had passed and Megumi became more active, Toji he realized that staying stuck in his grief was causing him to miss out on being mentally present in his child’s life.

And he knew she wouldn’t want that..

So he came alone now, placing the flowers down to replace the ones that had withered away, along with the opened bottle of strawberry soda nestled perfectly in the grass.

Toji squats to sit in front of the grave with his own beverage dangling between his knuckles, popping the cap off with his teeth and leaning forward to clink it gently against his wife's before taking a sip.

He would then spend about an hour or more just sitting there. Usually, he'd talk, not caring about how awkward it felt anymore.

He'd start out by wishing her happy birthday and telling her about how big Megumi is getting. How much he looks like her and all the little quirks he has that remind him of her. How smart and independent he is and how he takes care of his dad just as much as his dad takes care of him. He tells her about how he is doing. About his health and any recent injuries or ailments as a result of his job. He'd leave out what he still did to make money, even though he was sure she already knew. He'd talk about how getting older isn't as scary to him as it used to be, especially when he had someone that made him feel young again.

He'd tell her about how you came into his life and how hesitant he was about allowing you into his heart. Not that he had much of a choice. You just made it that easy. Leading with friendship, fostering a bond that wasn’t driven by lust or uninhibited emotions. Showing up for Megumi when he couldn’t due to work or making sure the both of them were taking proper care of themselves.

It always stuck in his mind how you never let his trauma or baggage scare you away, even if it should have, and how much your presence changed the way he saw love and life after losing someone so precious.

He would express the guilt he felt in loving you and her simultaneously. He didn't understand it. It wasn't as if there was a hierarchy in his heart, ranking one person over the other. He just couldn’t do that when he loved you both im different ways. It was just as if his heart had grown and all that she taught him about love years ago allowed more to pour in, making space for you.

He'd thank her for being his first love and for giving him the greatest gifts he could ever ask for. For teaching him how to love, and in turn, how to be loved as well.

That part of his conversation always got him emotional, and a breeze that didn’t touch anything but him with blow over his tearstained face. Even his hair would be tussled, reminiscent of the way his wife would tease his messy raven tresses in attempt to cheer him up.

Then he would smile, clear his throat and tell her he’d be back this time next year before rising to stand.

On his drive back, he’d glance at the new custom bouquet of sunflowers and red roses now in his passenger, his heart still twinged with a confusing mixture of guilt and relief riddling him. Relief to be leaving that small old town that only reminded him of a life that was now over. The life he thought would last much longer than it did. Every place held a memory that was colored yellow and blue in his mind, stored deep but never forgotten.

His guilt came mostly from the fact that he never could find a way to tell you why the birthday of his late wife was so hard for him and why he just needed to make that yearly trip on his own to visit her.

So one could only imagine the shock Toji felt that following year when he opened his fridge and found his late wife’s favorite soda.

Front and center. Not hidden or tucked away in the back. Unseen and easily forgotten. With a yellow sticky note placed over the label, easy to see and read.

In your handwriting…

For her, just because <3

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

hi I saw you do requests but you don't have a faq I can find so please feel free to ignore if this isn't ur vibe but!!! I absolutely Love the past two shockwave x reader petplay fics you've written and i was wondering if you could write something for shockwave trusting his human to get him off in a more submissive bottoming way? like him on the receiving end and maybe submitting to them (in a sort of role-playing situation. we obv know he's like. yknow lol)

if that isn't ur vibe could you write him maybe rewarding + praising his human after working a long, grueling shift ? 😭🥺 thank you!!!

I’m glad you like them!!!! It makes me so happy that people like my writing 😭

I have another Shockwave petplay fic in my drafts but it’s gonna be a lot longer than other two :3c

I just had a long grueling shift a couple days ago soooooooooo

Shockwave x reader, gender neutral, racially ambiguous, SFW (for once), reader’s job is vague, reader goes nonverbal, stressed out reader, Shockwave pampers reader with a bath

Shockwave already knew you were home when he was alerted that the door to the modified bunker you both lived in had been opened.

He turned his attention from his current tinkering to the security camera he had installed at the entrance. He expected to see you making a silly face at him or flipping him off playfully or even just going about your business. Instead he saw you slumped over tossing your bag onto the floor and kicking off your shoes with enough force he could hear the small thunk of them against the floor.

While very few, including Shockwave himself, would say he was in tune to the emotions of others right now your emotions were very obvious. He let out an exvent before pushing himself up out of his chair and making his way towards you.

You heard his metal pedes clanking against the cement floor. His yellow optic shone in the dark hallway as he turned around the corner to greet you.

Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy a telltale sign that you had been crying. The little sniffles you made only confirmed his hypothesis.

“(Y/N),” Shockwave’s voice was cold and even as if he was simply regarding your presence as fact but you knew better.

You looked up at your robotic lover while rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. Shockwave reached his servo down to rub at your cheek. The soft skin there cold and clammy from your tears. He gently cupped your face in his servo as he knelt down with his canon resting over his knee.

“Are you injured?” His servo basically encompassed half your body as he stroked at your face with his thumb. You shook your head to Shockwave’s question. “I would like to confirm,” Shockwave said leaning down closer to you. “It’s not that I don’t trust you to tell me when you’re injured but I need to make sure you are not damaged.”

Shockwave felt up your body gently looking for any discomfort while he scanned you over with his optic. When he was finished he let he servo rest against your back cradling you where you stood.

“You are fully operational,” Shockwave said mostly to himself. “Has something happened?”

You groaned curling against his servo. That was all the confirmation he needed. “We have implemented a safety plan for when you are in distress,” Shockwave pushed against your back so you’d shuffle closer to him. “I believe it would be most logical to follow our agreed upon methods to help you.”

You looked up at Shockwave with big wet eyes. You reached your hands up at him with your fingers spread wide. He let out an amused exvent as he picked you up and with the same motion stood up to his full height.

He placed you upon his protruding chasis with your upper body resting against his cyclopian helm and his servo cupping your lap to keep you balanced. Your arms flung around his optic in a tight hug as your body started to shake once again stricken with tears. Shockwave’s finials flattened backwards upset with your current state. His digits stroked lovingly over your lap to comfort you as your tears wetted the side of his optic helm.

“Would you like to bathe before changing into your sleep coverings?” Shockwave asked tenderly.

He could feel you nod against his helm. His grip on your lap tightened protectively as he started to make his way towards the human washroom he had put together for you. It coincided with the wash rack he had built for his own sanitary purposes making your bathroom look like a carwash with a vanity. It was oddly cute how Shockwave would combine your necessary spaces. While he always claimed it was “-only logical due to our limited habitable space,” you knew he simply just wanted you around him at all times.

While Shockwave secretly wished you’d quit your job for this very reason he understood that the current economic system you lived under didn’t allow that just yet. Shockwave fantasizes about having you as his perfect house spouse preparing him his energon and helping with him relax after a long day working in his lab. In fact, how cute would you be as his little lab assistant? The idea made the scientist giddy and his spark skip a pulse at the idea. However, Shockwave would keep his self indulgent fantasies to himself for now. He still needed to care for his beautiful partner as they shiver so sadly in his servo.

The doors to your shared bathroom slid open with a whirring noise. You peaked out from your hiding place against Shockwave’s helm to watch him make his way to the human part of the washroom.

“Do you believe speaking about your day will help you cope with your current stress?” Shockwave asked as he knelt down next to the tub. Using the end of his canon arm, he tilted the spout handle into the on position letting the bathroom be filled with the sound of rushing water. He messed with the handle adjusting it until he saw that the temperature was fit enough for you. You only shook your head to his question.

“Very well, sweetspark,” Shockwave turned his helm to look at your poor body slumped against his shoulder. “I need you to test the water to make sure it is to your liking.” You nod letting Shockwave gently lift you off his shoulder and onto the tile floor. You reach your hand under the water then nod before twisting the plug to the bath closed.

Shockwave stroked your back gently. “I will fetch your scented items while you undress.” You looked over your shoulder at Shockwave and gave him a grateful smile. You could hear the whirring of his metal joints as he lifted himself up and moved towards your vanity. He poked through the cabinets looking for your special bath supplies as you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

“Will this suffice?” Shockwave asked holding up the bag of epsom salts in your direction. You nodded now fully nude and stepping into the warm water. Shockwave kneeled back down gently tipping a good amount of the salt into your water before resealing the bag and setting it down next to the tub.

“You have worked so hard today,” Shockwave said while stroking your hair with one of his digits. “I believe you deserve to rest.”

You felt your bones turn to mush as you pushed your head up against Shockwave’s finger. You could hear a soft amused hum from the mech before he grabbed your wash cloth and favorite soap. It was honestly impressive how gentle and accurate Shockwave was when handling your things seeing as he was at least five times your size.

When he deemed the wash cloth properly lathered in soap he nudged your arm with his canon so you’d lift it out of the water for him. “You do not need to prove your worth through your work ethic,” Shockwave said softly as he rubbed the soapy cloth up your arm. It was a bit awkward for him to maneuver the wash cloth due to his size but you didn’t even care to notice. “I already know your worth, my love.”

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as Shockwave rubbed the wash cloth along your back making sure to massage you with his fingers. “Now you will rest while I take care of my sparkmate.”

[countessravengrey]

I'd also like to point out that this is exactly what the original post was talking about. Practicing accessibility is a form of activism. A person, disabled or not, may not always be able to share in the most accessible way. They may not have the spoons. Being as inclusive as possible is good, but shaming people when they aren't isn't.

Sometimes the best we can do is pass things on and hope that someone can continue the work, can pick up where we left off.

On another note, there's a major irony in the fact that the onus of responsibility to lead by example in activism often falls to the marginalized group. I know the chastiser may not have known that OP is disabled, but this happens all the time.

I had several white friends come to me when 2020 blew up after the George Floyd murder and subsequent protests occurred, asking me what they should do to make amends or get more educated. I share memes, posts, and articles in the hope that someone somewhere will listen and take initiative, so I'm not just screaming into the void about my own oppressed state.

Likewise, there's a lot of pressure on disabled folks to be perfect about accessibility for other disabled folks because we understand their plight better than abled folks and therfore have no excuse, despite many of our disabilities being the literal reason we can't.

And perhaps because intersectionality has become more prevalent, people from one marginalized group are even expected to get everything right when it comes to marginalized groups they're not even a part of.

It's all fucking exhausting. Worse, early analysis is saying that pressured performative activism and identity politics is one of the reasons we lost the election. Don't know if I fully believe that, but I'm not surprised. We're all tired, marginalized groups more so, and disabled folks, who are already battling chronic illness and fatigue, often in addition to being part of another marginalized group, sit at the bottom of the heap. And we're all sick of hearing about it.

So, maybe let's all give each other a little break, pitch in where we're able, and recognize that none of us is perfect in this fight. Pick your battles, rather than virtue signaling that you're a better activist than the other person.

[syndrossi]

I love the way you write Ned. I love that, while he is clearly cognizant of the fact that Jon isn’t technically his son, he is willing to utterly destroy his honor and reputation to keep him safe. (Though it is clear that he knows it would be… very bad for him if someone was to put any of the pieces together about his origins at this stage too.) And I hope that bb!Jon gets a chance to really reckon with that love - different from the love he receives from Daemon, hampered by their circumstances, but still a profound love.

I do also hope someone, once everything is out in the open, has a chance to marvel at the depth of treason Ned was willing to commit to for his family.

Also, Raymar could literally just ask Ned how Jon is related to him, and I think Ned would tell him. (The lies they are having to tell to stay safe in Winterfell and their physical appearance would make prevarication unlikely.)

Yeah, Ned's love is such an interesting thing to reckon with. It's more in the background of Resonant, the candle that Jon holds up to Daemon's bonfire, but Ned's had to be more subtle and came with a lot more baggage than Daemon's. He was brave in many ways with his love, but in ways that were difficult for Jon to feel because he didn't know Ned's secrets.

His bravery was more political: committing treason, as you said, lying to his best friend and king, lying to his wife and staining his honor. But as far as letting himself fully love (not just protect!) Jon the way he longed for--there was this chasm between them. So much of Ned's pain and loss and even guilt was tangled up in his birth.

His father was a man who Lyanna had loved, rather than the monster everyone else in the North believed him to be. Whose death I doubt Ned felt much regret over, but his wife and children--that was horrific enough that it permanently drove a wedge between him and Robert. Ned never trusted him or looked at him the same way after that. So Rhaegar, and through him, Jon, is a reminder of Robert's failings.

And his mother was Ned's beloved sister, whose "kidnapping" claimed the lives of his brother and father in a truly sickening fashion before ultimately taking hers. When he looks at Jon, who else can he see but Lyanna and remember all the Starks who died so that Jon could be born?

Ned loves Jon, and would die to protect him, but in the way that is most important to Jon, his bravery failed him: in telling him the truth so that he could understand that any perceived distance on Ned's part had nothing to do with Jon being his bastard son and a reminder of his dishonor, because he wasn't. So much of Jon's own pain is tangled up in what it means to be a bastard--to be assumed evil, ambitious, lustful. So much so that when he does have any ambition of his own, it comes with guilt and a reactive "but I shouldn't!"

Without that knowledge, Jon distanced himself in response, partly in self-defense. Robb became "Stark." "Father" became "Lord Stark" more often than not. Lady Stark claimed he was trying to insinuate himself into her family, to claim a role that didn't belong to him, out of ambition. And Jon did everything in his power to counter that argument. "Look, see? I don't put on airs and pretend to be the same as my father's true children. I am Jon, but I am also Snow. I am deferential toward Robb and my half-siblings, because they are my betters. They are the ones who deserve our father's full love."

(How many times did Jon have to play damage control when Ned was too affectionate? And honestly, Ned himself. Cat herself was part of that distance. He felt guilty even about lying to Cat and the pain it had caused her, so he was just--constantly trying to tiptoe around emotional landmines. His own and Cat's.)

Now I know the common rebuttal is "of course he didn't tell Jon, that's not the kind of secret you can entrust to a kid or even a young teen!" But this is Ned. I don't think that level of shrewdness factored much into it, other than possibly as an excuse to cling to / reason to procrastinate. Once Jon was ten, he was pretty much old enough to know to keep a secret.

None of which means Ned didn't love Jon a great deal, or sacrifice to protect him. It just means that it was complicated in a way that his love for Robb, Sansa, Arya, etc wasn't.

(And truly, Ned wouldn't go to the lengths Daemon would, for the sheer fact that Daemon is not an inherently good/honorable person. Daemon's love is of the undeniably selfish "I would burn the world for you" brand.)

Restoration!Ned is even braver in his love, from a sheer "taking on breathtaking political risk" standpoint. These two children appear, so clearly Jon's kin, and the craziest fork in the road appears: "reveal their identity and your treachery is revealed with obvious consequences to Jon" vs "destroy the honor you had finally rebuilt over time and distance from its original stain, risking your family in the process, to protect Jon." (The third fork "see that these children disappear quietly and remain a strange rumor" never occurs to Ned, because unlike Robert, he doesn't countenance the murder of children.)

And Resonant!Jon is actually in the best spot to understand how much he is risking for him (other him), since he does know the truth this time around. It's easier to see the love where growing up, the inequity/distance stood out to him.

/essay oops

On the Raymar front, that really does pretty much seal it. If Ned says they're Jon's uncles, and he believes Rhaella is their mother, then pretty much no one else could be Jon's father, given that Lyanna must be his mother. Any additional children Rhaella might have had after he was summerhalled would have almost certainly been too young to marry her. A "spare" prince would have much better prospects than a woman 8 years his senior.

[cronasluvr]

DIFFERENT.

rafe cameron x male reader

genre: smut

warnings: cursing, pet names, dirty-talk, penetration, smut, alcohol, drugs, noncon/dubcon, not proof-read

a/n: mb for the inconsistent posting T-T I didn’t have much motivation but I came up with this! also sorry if its not the best ;(

Rafe loved parties. He loved every aspect of them like the drinks, the drugs, but mostly the sex. Rafe enjoyed selling drugs to randoms and also getting drunk but sex would always top those things, he loved how he never had to stick with the same person and could fuck any girl he wanted. 

They always would be wrapped around his finger and Rafe would just leave them to fend for themselves after he was satisfied. He knew it was toxic but thats the only way he felt a sense of power, he wanted to be better than his dad so this would help him feel something and nothing could stop him. 

Rafe had a reputation of being the perfect kook; Rich, hot, and straight, so whenever any boys would try to pounce on him or tease him with sexual jokes he would decline right away and never look back.

His friend was hosting a party that started around sunset and of course Rafe was gonna be there, he just recently got new drugs so he was definitely excited for the money.  It had already been a while since the party had started and business was booming, the only downside was he hadn’t had much sex yet so it was getting a little boring. Rafe kept selling for a little while until he had enough, he was indeed of pussy right now.

You were doing homework until your phone started to ring, “M/n!!! It’s the weekend let’s go to Toppers Partttyy.” it was your bestfriend, “I have homework to do not today.” You said while continuing, “Cmonn you never go out and plus everyone’s gonna be there including Rafe Cameron.” they say the last part teasingly.

You never understood the hype of Rafe Cameron, yes you believed Rafe was handsome but thats it. You’d always questioned why girls would be all over him other than his looks. You knew Rafe sold  drugs so you would stay far from him just in case, but at the end of the day you decided that a break would be okay.

You sigh annoyingly “Okay fine whatever, pick me up in 20.” You heard your friend yelp in excitement, “See ya in 20!!” They hanged up. After that conversation you decided to get up and get ready, you decided to wear a basic tee and jorts with sandals. After a while your friend finally arrived, “Ready m/n??” They said excitedly, “I guess”. You both start making your way to Toppers house.

Rafe was halfway drunk by now and decided to snort another line. You arrived to the party and your friend decided to split up to get drinks. You were walking through the crowd and saw Rafe, he looked at you and you both made eye contact. He looked at you with hungry eyes but you look away and walk to the kitchen for drinks. 

At first you told yourself you wouldn’t get too drunk but now you’re here tripping and stumbling all over, you couldn’t find your friend so you decided to dance with the crowd. Rafe was fully gone at this point but then he decided to let some energy out and began to walk toward the crowd, as he approached the crowd he saw you dancing in the middle.

You were having the time of your life until you felt somebody press against your back, “Having fun m/n?” Rafe whispered in your ear, your face started to heat up and you turned around to meet his face. Inches apart you felt his breath against your lips and smelt the alcohol from his mouth, “G-good” you said with slurred words, “Thats good, just keep dancing” he says as he places his hands on your hips and starts making you grind on him. Your face starts heating up more but you continue to grind on him, “Just like that” he encourages, you both stay in that position for a little more till next thing you know hes pushing you against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist.

At this point you both are making out with each other and it felt so good, “M-mm!” you moan out as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He continues to fight with your tongue until he wins dominance and starts making you breathless. You pull away and look into his eyes in awe, “You taste so good baby”, he carries you into one of the bedrooms and lays you on the bed, “R-rafe, i n-need you”, you say looking at him with hungry eyes. 

You knew this was wrong but it felt so good, “here let’s get you naked” he moves his hand toward your top and starts remove it with your pants too. Your face turns even more red, “You look so cute like this” he looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, you move your hands toward his shirt and help him take it off. 

You trace your hands on his biceps in awe, “You like that?” He smirks and begins to kiss your neck, “M-mmm” you moan out. He stops at your nipples and starts sucking them, “R-rafe!” You moan even louder, “Sensitive huh?” He stares up at your face while biting your nipple, “f-fuck!” you bite your lip to contain your moans. 

He slurps them even more and your body jerks in pleasure, “M-more!” you beg as you move your hand to guide his head, he doesn’t listen and teases you while continuing to suck on your nipples while watching you squirm under him.

“o-oh my god!” you moan out while stopping his movements, “n-need your c-cock” you beg even more, “Whatever you need then baby” as he begins to start unzipping his pants and letting his cock free from his boxers. He lowers your pants down along with your underwear and spits on his head, “Let me just get this needy hole ready” he smirks and starts inserting one finger into your hole, “O-oh f-fuck” you moan while clenching the bed sheets. 

He adds more fingers until he gets to three and starts hitting your prostate, “Mmm so wet for me” he looks at you squirm even more under him, “I-Im close!!” you moan out as he quickly pulls all his fingers out, “Not yet baby”, you look up at him with teary eyes. Rafe began to slowly insert his cock into your gummy walls and you couldn’t hold back, “S-so big, s-so full!!” you loudly moan out, he began to start thrusting into you with a fast pace. 

You came undone onto your stomach but he continued, “You feel that baby its in your stomach” he moves even faster and leans in to start making out with you. You felt another high incoming and you started to scratch his back from the pleasure, “C-close daddy!!”, “Fuck m/n!”and with one final thrust you both come undone. “Mmm so warm”, he says while kissing your lips and still continuing to thrust slowly into your hole to ride his high out, you moan quietly and begin to lose consciousness. 

He looks up at your face and finds you sleeping, “we only had one round :[“ he says a little annoyed but decides to get up and clean you both. He didn’t understand why he just had sex with you, but it felt so right to him so he knew you were different.

The next day you felt warmth with his arms wrapped around your body, you turn to face him and see him sleeping peacefully, “what a cutie” as you peck his nose, falling back to sleep content.

[chronicsyd]

Nope not done! I do have a question:

I wonder what Mel’s reaction would have been Had Lest told her about Salo mentioning to Ambessa how much influence/power the Kiramman name wields?

Because when Mel’s talking to Elora about Ambessa’s plan she says that it’s foolish that they’re gathering an audience of houses. Elora mentions that “her mother is anything but a fool” and that “there must be an angle she’s missing”

And she’s right, they both are missing an angle.

That angle being Salo mentioning the Kiramman name. Because I do believe that Caitlyn was on Ambessa’s radar since she overpowered Salo in their chamber back in the first episode, but him mentioning this was that tad bit of info she needed to fully switch her sights Onto Caitlyn.

Lest doesn’t mention this because it doesn’t seem like the most pertinent information (despite being revealed that it was actually the most important bit). The things she mentions are them gathering an audience to put Salo in the hot seat, and Amara. Because that seems to be the more important information. And Lest wasn’t in the room, only listening. So she doesn’t see Ambessa’s reaction to him saying this about the Kiramman’s.

The thing is, Mel knows her mother better than anyone. So Had Lest mentioned this tad bit of info to her, I’m guessing that red flags probably would have started popping up for Mel. Because she also knows that the Kiramman name is incredibly powerful, and something that her mother could easily use. And that Ambessa using Salo over Caitlyn would be too foolish for her, so it would make sense that her mother would go after Caitlyn instead.

Now, would Mel have been able to do anything with the Black Rose still on her ass? Ehhh hard to say, because she sends Elora out to find out what happened to Amara earlier, and was only kidnapped just before the assembly even happened. So perhaps knowing this earlier maybe she would have been able to confront Ambessa about it.

(And maybe having a similar scene to the “stay away from Jayce” bit back from S1, because while she cares for Jayce more than Caitlyn, she does try to comfort Caitlyn as well, she does care about her, Especially if her mothers suddenly taken an interest in her. She see’s Caitlyn as someone who’s dealing with a bunch of grief and pain. The absolute worst (best) kind of person for Ambessa to have as part of her caliber. Yeah I’d imagine Mel would be a little pissed about it)

(Speaking of which: does Ambessa even KNOW that her daughters missing rn? Or is she too busy morphing Caitlyn into the wolf she wanted Mel to be to even notice?)

[lethalbutterfly]

Several months before the election, my boss, a Trump supporter, was saying something about how the 2020 election was rigged, Trump only lost because "they" (presumably just a general sense of conspiratorial authoritarian democrats in government?) gave all the mail-in ballots to Biden.

And my response to this was something along the lines of "Even if that were true, what do you propose we do about it? I hate to say it, but if you can't trust the process by which votes are counted, then you don't actually believe in democracy. There's no place to go from there other than having you personally count the votes yourself, or to just not have elections altogether."

My position on this is that the make-or-break issue for me this election was weather or not Democracy should exist. There were plenty of other reasons why I voted for Kamala, but that one was the most important. Trump said during a rally he would "fix it so you don't have to vote anymore" he said during the debate that he still does not accept the results of the previous election. There was one party actively advertising themselves as disestablishing the checks and balances of our government as they have been done 2016, and going on to promise rigged elections, and they've laid plenty of groundwork for it:

Gerrymandering favors the republican party in most places. Statistically, the higher the voter turnout, the greater the margin democrats win by. In the entire >300 year history of our government, there have been only 3 times that the electoral vote has disagreed with the popular vote- ALL THREE times in favor of the republican party (granted their platform was drastically different back in 1876 when it benefited Hayes, they weren't the insane racist maniacs they are today, the fact that the other 2/3rds of this deeply anomalous occurrence happened within the most recent 25 years of our country's existence is another anomaly in and of itself). And last but not least, the same sentiment echoed by my boss in the wake of the 2020 election, the conspiracy that the votes themselves simply cannot be trusted, which is difficult to argue and disprove without intimate specialized knowledge of how votes are counted, and which makes it very easy for someone who lost the vote to forcibly claim the presidency, if there's widespread sentiment that he didn't REALLY lose despite what the numbers say.

What I'm trying to build up to here is that, since I positioned free elections as my #1 issue for this election, I cannot very well go around and claim that the election is wrong, can I? I wish it were a mistake. The world would be better off if it were a mistake, but there's no evidence for that, and trying to delegitimize the election is the strategy used by those who don't want there to be elections at all. Or at least don't want elections to be heeded. Was the election fair? No. There was voter suppression and disenfranchisement just like there always is, but it was out in the open, just like it always is, not in privately stuffed ballots or secretly hacked machines. We can fight against the unfairness of the election by trying to reduce or eliminate gerrymandering and the electoral college in favor of a popular vote, and by supporting ranked choice voting, but fighting for those goals is going to be extremely difficult when the presidency (and the Supreme Court for that matter) is held by the party whose power is cemented by those things.

Maybe it won't be for everyone, but it has been a small solace to me that this is the will of the American people, and not a miscarriage of justice carried out by a fully rigged system. It was not the decision of oligarchs that there should not be a democracy, but democratically elected that there should not be a democracy (ironic).

And before anyone reading this gives into Despair at the way I'm phrasing this, I would like to add something else:

I have several friends who are both more politically minded and just generally more intelligent than I, and they belive that, in spite of Trump's campaign promises to the contrary, there WILL still be an election in 2028. He will, most likely, not be able to get so far as fully abolishing elections in a single term. It will be an election less fair than what we just went through, more people are going to be disenfranchised depending on how much of Project2025/Agenda47 gets passed. And I know that the mere existence of voting in 4 years being considered a victory is setting the bar so low it's a tripping hazard in hell. But it is not unrecoverable. In 2020, we turned Georgia and Nevada blue. Trump voters are going to feel betrayed when their grocery prices are driven further up by deregulation and inflation. This election teaches us that regardless of who is really responsible for the hardships of Americans, most voters will simply blame whatever party is in charge at the time.

It's going to take a lot more work, but it's possible.

(I myself regret not doing more to send out calls and texts for the campaign, speak up against misinformation, and just monetarily donate tbh. I intend to do these things when 2028 rolls around, as well as look for other opportunities along the way.)

If your democrat friends start muttering about stolen election conspiracy theories, the time to have a sit down with them and express your concerns is NOW, while you still have a chance to reach them, not 6 months from now when they're fully conspiracy-pilled.

Here's some of the talking points and why they're bullshit:

'10 million votes don't just disappear!' -> Joe Biden's 81 million votes were a statistical outlier, sparked by the recent experience of the Trump presidency. The democrats failed to maintain that sense of urgency, but Harris still got more votes than Hillary Clinton, more than Obama and more than any previous democratic candidate. These numbers are not weird at all.

'The Republicans tried to infiltrate election- and vote counting organizations!' -> yeah, they did, and yet hundreds of independent legal observers didn't see anything go wrong enough to raise any alarms. Independent exit polls are also very consistently similar to the counted votes. Tons of international organizations specialized in this stuff observed the election and didn't see a reason to raise the alarm.

'But I know a dozen democrats whose mail-in votes were not counted!' -> In any election a certain number of votes are registered as invalid because something was wrong with the ballot. In a country the size of the US, that translates to many thousands of votes. The internet allows these people to find each other, creating the false impression that a suspiciously large group of voted was not valid.

'Musk used Star Link to mess with electronic voting!' -> Electronic voting machines are not connected to the internet and dozens of independent media have already debunked this myth. It is absolutely impossible to use Star Link to fake election results.

'There is voter disenfranchisement!' -> This is true. This has always been true, for every election. It's an issue worth talking about but it's not a special secret conspiracy that's unique to this election.

But just as importantly as the facts: sit down with your friend and talk about the anxiety that's behind their conspiracy leanings. Acknowledge their pain and fear. Help them find ways to feel less powerless and regain their sense of agency. Take them to a mutual aid event, involve them in a fundraising event for a marginalized group, invite them to a local community effort. If they spend more time feeling connection and empowerment and less time doom scrolling online, they're far more likely to stay in reality.

[riotbrrrd]

Idk, I don't think it's surprising nor disappointing that Cait doesn't hold on to the fascist line in her heart for longer than an episode. She's presented as very self-driven from the start of the show -- follows what she believes will make herself feel good -- and it's made explicitely clear how she responds to grief -- "I know I shouldn't hate them it's just there's a hole in me that I must fill" and ambessa might believe that she is filling it, it's obvious that narratively speaking the show was going to go the "not even hate or violence actually is satisfying" route. Tale as old as time honestly.

It also, to me, makes the fascist slide even better-tasting, like, it's so easy for her to remain at the top of the food chain that she can just slide in and out of fascism without thinking about consequences? Yeah.

(It also obviously is like, a part of the narrative that can't be examined through cait alone. Piltover as a city and as a government was fascist before Ambessa offered martial power to Cait. Piltover already had violent repressions of the Lanes which are what built the original status quo! The reality that the show confronts is that all this violence was never actually put away, and was ready to be redeployed at the first occasion, and that people don't need to be fully convinced by the necessity of that violence for a system can be put in place. Alienation does the rest of the work)

No, the real unconvincing part is how Maddie goes "you could stop it all" in a heartbeat, when she's the one who seemed to have been introduced as politically principled. But well, she's only been here for an episode and a half, so like, it's whatever.