#and it’s not just he belongs there. it’s that he KNOWS it
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jewishvitya · 3 days ago
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This is Andrey X, a Jewish Israeli pro-Palestine activist.
I don't know how to describe this video so I'll just write out what he's saying:
That is the beginning of an Israeli settlement. And this is the Palestinian village of Umm al-Hiran. Which is right now under a demolition order, in order to expand the settlement that way.
And we are not in the West Bank. We are in the Naqab desert. Every single Palestinian in that village has an Israeli passport. And yet they're being expelled to make way for a Jewish settlement.
And look at the hills around us. This place is empty. If Israel wants to build a settlement, they can do it anywhere. And yet they choose to do it here. Because the only purpose of that settlement is to expel Palestinians from their land.
This is happening all over the Naqab desert. Currently 14 Palestinian Bedouin communities are under demolition orders. And thousands of people are set to become homeless.
This is the most blatant illustration that Israel is an ethno-nationalist apartheid state. The Palestinians of Umm al-Hiran have the exact same citizenship as the settlers who are about to move into their land. And yet the Palestinians are being ethnically cleansed just because they belong to an ethno-cultural group that the Israeli state wants to suppress as much as possible.
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sheep-from-rad · 2 days ago
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this is inspired by @luludeluluramblings 's neglected! influencer! **I'll expand this later, I'm eepy**
*I don't own Rät. It belongs to Penelope Scott. Batfam belongs to DC*
Not gonna lie, everytime I read a Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader (I wish we have more defiant one tbh, i have parental issues and I tell you I will never ever forgive my parents fast. It's my dad's fault I don't know how to ask for help and that everytime he's near me all my danger senses are high up. Ending this here before it becomes a rant/vent lol) all I can hear in my brain is Rät by Penelope Scott
Maybe we can do it like this: Neglected! reader uses music to let frustrations out and leading to them becoming this anon singer online. Reader started out with being a black screen singer at first, making covers of songs and then later they started when gaining popularity they started having this anime avatar or an anime persona (maybe even a vtuber model) and original songs left and right.
Reader lives a normal life flying under the radar in daylight but when alone they sing their hearts out in different songs, they even learn different languages for foreign songs too. I can imagine reader singing Japanese songs too something around Kikuo to One OK Rock covers.
AND THEN the big fight with Damian, reader really can't bear living in the mansion anymore. They bear it too much and now the bottle is already full. Before they left they dropped the song cover of Rät or maybe it's not even a cover in this AU, maybe they wrote the song in this AU. Gotham immediately loved the song maybe even tried to decipher the song too because singer! reader just dropped it and disappeared.
The song immediately gained notoriety because to the people of Gotham the song sounded like a protest. A question to the current hierarchy, a question to heroes and how villains came to be. No one still notices that the reader is missing until Tim was tasked to clean up some camera file storage around the mansion.
Tim watches every footage before cleaning it, no matter how boring it was to see if something went amiss while they are out on their secret vigilante nightlife. What did he find on the camera footage? He found the reader going around their bedroom and to the attic back and forth with a microphone and few recording equipment. When he reviewed the attic footage he found clips and clips of reader singing, editing, and uploading videos.
Suddenly, the last song they dropped made sense. The lyrics made sense. It was about them not about Gotham society.
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theonottsbxtch · 2 days ago
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I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43
an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this
summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.
wc: 4.4k
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She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.
She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.
Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.
Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.
But he didn’t.
Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.
It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?
It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.
No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.
The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.
Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.
And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”
He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.
And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.
“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.
Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”
There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.
“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.
“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.
His first race was in Monza.
And Franco had made sure she’d be there.
The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.
She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.
She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.
“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”
She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.
“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”
It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”
The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”
A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”
The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”
It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.
“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”
The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.
As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”
She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.
And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.
The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.
The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.
A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.
“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”
“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”
He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”
She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”
He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”
She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.
“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”
“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”
For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.
“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”
She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”
He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.
“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.
“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”
She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.
He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”
The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.
She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.
“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.
“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.
She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.
When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.
Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.
It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.
“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”
She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.
“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”
Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”
She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”
Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.
Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.
“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”
Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”
She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.
“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.
Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”
And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.
A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.
She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.
Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.
“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”
She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.
He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”
She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”
“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”
But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.
Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.
But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.
Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.
She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.
By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.
Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.
“¡Mira! Is that really you?”
She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.
“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.
He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”
“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.
“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.
She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.
The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”
He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”
They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.
As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.
Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.
to be continued…?
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condemning-twitter · 2 hours ago
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Alright, since the idiot above keeps trying to tell me (a German who took advanced classes in history) what wing Nazis were... let's wrap this up.
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Mr. "mustache man wouldn't lie to us" probably also believes that the Democratic People's Republic of Korea is a democratic republic and not... a dictatorship. But shockers! Totalitarian leaders are fully capable and willing to rebrand a term for propaganda purposes. In the case of the NSDAP, they rebranded the term "socialist" to gain the sympathies of the working class who were, at the time, struggling financially.
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What this user is referring to is authoritarianism, not leftism. Notably, authoritarianism can occur independently from the "left vs right" political spectrum, as "authoritarianism vs libertarianism" is its very own political spectrum.
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This is why infringements on your freedoms such as a ban on guns, free speech, and blind loyalty have nothing to do with being "left wing" or "right wing".
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The core values of leftism are
(1) Freedom: Emancipating people from being held under forceful control, and giving them opportunities to exercise conscious choice over their lives without arbitrary constraints or coercion.
(2) Equality: Bringing about situations where people are of the same or similar standing in certain important respects, or by certain criteria of measurement.
(3) Justice: Ensuring that people are treated and provided for fairly, adequately, and correctly, according to their rightful due.
(4) Solidarity: Recognising the reciprocal bonds and shared purposes that tie people together, and their duties to support each other in their mutual common interest.
(5) Pluralism: Acknowledging that people are separate individuals who belong to various groups, and encouraging people to foster the many heterogeneous and incommensurable aspects of their identities.
(6) Progress: Pursuing the continuous onward advance of society by developing ever new and better ways to bring about improvements in people’s lives.
Source
Nazis incorporated NONE of that.
(1) Freedom: Nazis removed various freedoms from their citizens with the "Reichstagsbrandverordnung", overriding articles 114, 115, 117, 118, 123, 124 and 153 of the Weimar Republic. They restricted freedom of speech and speech, right to assembly, and the German "Briefgeheimnis" (privacy of letters), and enabled house searches.
(2) Equality: Nazis promoted a racial hierarchy with "Aryans" at the top. Gender roles were promoted, for example, through the establishment of the BDM which was separated from the general HJ.
(3) Justice: No justice or fairness without equality. See the point above.
(4) Solidarity: Nazis systematically excluded groups they deemed "unworthy". Exclusionary solidarity is not solidarity, otherwise nepotism and corruption would count as "solidarity" among capitalists.
(5) Pluralism: Nazis imposed a homogenous state identity upon all its citizens and purged all those who did not fit that standard. Not only did this logic apply to ethnic groups but also to sexualities, gender identities, disabilities, political affiliations, ...
(6) Progress: Now, read all of the above again and try telling me Nazis were "progressive".
For further comparisons between leftist and Nazi values, check out the following post.
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Huh. Funny. So you are telling me that IN SPITE of Mustache Man believing Communism (and by extension Socialism) to be a Jewish conspiracy, he rejected both. The WHY DID HE PROMOTE IT? Seeing the error?
Quite obviously, "Socialism" meant something different to Mustache Man than to modern Socialists. In other words, Hitler never intended to practice Socialism and DEFINITELY not in the way we know it.
Side notes:
Excessive use of "..." it sounds like you are an edgy 14-year-old who is desperately trying to sound cool
Trump is about to run the US economy into the dirt because Capitalism is just as fucking stupid as Communism; mixed models so far have achieved the best results in maintaining high living standards among the entire population
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I couldn't have said it better myself.
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fastandcarlos · 6 hours ago
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Baby In Papaya : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris
summary: as your son starts to join you in the mclaren paddock, it doesn't take long for him to earn his own piece of papaya too
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The noise in the garage quietened as soon as the team watched you walk in, holding onto the hand of your son. Lando stood up straight away, kneeling down with his arms wide open as your son ran through and jumped straight into Lando’s hold. 
“Hi buddy,” Lando grinned, pressing a kiss against his cheek before placing him back on his feet, allowing him to say hello to the other faces around the garage that he knew. 
Once you had placed your bag down, you made your way over to Lando too, feeling his lips peck against your cheek, his arm snake around your waist. Zak was quick to come and greet you, letting you know just how excited the team were to have you back in the garage again. 
“Anything you need today, you let us know,” he told you, making sure that you were looked after. Since having your son, it was your first time at a race, and the team were keen to make life as easy for you as they possibly could. 
After saying hello, your son ran back over to Lando, hiding behind his leg as the noise got louder. With everyone stood in a huddle, Zak reached up onto one of the shelves, pulling down a box and holding it out to you. 
“We got a little something for the little man to welcome him to McLaren,” Zak told you. 
“Really, you guys are adorable,” you grinned, taking the box from Zak. 
With your son’s help you lifted the lid off, greeted by a patch of papaya straight away. As you reached in, the material unfolded to reveal a McLaren shirt, a smaller replica of the one that Lando wore around the garage. 
Your son’s eyes lit up as he realised that he had been given the same as what Lando wore, bouncing up and down on his feet. “What do you say?” You asked him, watching him peer around from behind Lando and thank Zak for the gift he had given him. 
Soon enough, your son had taken his top off, his arms stretched up in the air. You knew exactly what he wanted, placing the new shirt over his head, pulling it down as it fit perfectly around his little body. 
No one was more excited than Lando though as he knelt down, standing next to your son. They were almost identical in their matching shirts, exactly what Lando had always dreamt of. 
“You look so handsome,” you smiled across at them both. 
“I’m just like daddy now, aren’t I?” 
Your head nodded in reply to your son, “hopefully it stops at the shirt, if it extends to driving race cars too, I think might have a breakdown.” 
Several chuckles came from around the paddock as the team went back to their jobs, leaving you, Lando and your son sat in one corner of the garage, with Oscar soon inviting himself over to join the three of you too. 
“When you were pregnant Lando used to talk about how he wanted to match with his child,” Oscar informed you, “it was all he talked about.” 
“Did he now?” You teased, “funny how you never told me that.” 
Lando shot a glare across at Oscar who had a proud smile on his face, lifting your son and placing him into his lap as he continued to admire his shirt. 
“I was thinking we could head out on a paddock tour in a bit,” Lando spoke, wanting to make sure that his son got the full experience of the garage, even if he was a little too young to be able to take it all in. 
“Will it be safe enough to take him around?” You quizzed, a little more doubtful than Lando was. “It’s busy out there, especially with all the car parts being moved around too.” 
Lando nodded confidently, not wanting you to worry. “I’ll be right there with you guys so you won’t be by yourselves. And if he gets lost, at least everyone will know that he belongs to McLaren now too.” 
Your eyes rolled as Lando proudly admired how amazing your son looked in the shirt once again. It had been a long time since you’d seen him so excited, knowing just how long he’d waited to show your son around, you just couldn’t say no to him. 
As he watched your head nod, Lando’s eyes lit up. “There’s so many people who have been pestering to meet him.” 
“I’m trusting you," you warned, poking against Lando's side. You looked across at Oscar who couldn’t help but laugh at you both, remembering how much fun it was to have you at the paddock. “This might be the stupidest decision that I’ve made in my life.” 
Oscar cleared his throat from beside you, “I’d argue that your stupidest decision was choosing to sleep with this guy,” he joked, smirking in Lando’s direction. “I mean even after all these years I wonder what it was that you ever saw in Lando.” 
“I’m sat right here,” Lando reminded you, speaking as if he was invisible. ”And obviously she saw how devilishly handsome I was, otherwise we wouldn’t have our little papaya baby sat here right now.” 
He was Lando’s pride and joy, on the edge of his seat with excitement about being able to introduce him to everyone. Before you knew it, he was up and holding onto your son to carry him round, hurrying you up so that he could take you around with him. 
As Lando began to walk, you hung back, with Oscar deciding to join you too. “Do you have any idea how excited he’s been to do this?” He asked you. 
“I imagine he’s been unbearable,” you laughed. 
Oscar nodded, never failing to be surprised by how well you knew Lando. “I think everyone has been driven slightly up the wall listening to him this weekend. He’s told me five times alone that you were coming, just in case I happened to forget.” 
Ahead of you, Lando walked with a spring in his step, allowing his son to wave to just about everyone. A few of the other drivers came over, keen to meet the little boy that they had heard so much about. Your son was adorable at the best of times, but dressed in papaya, he had everyone obsessing over him. 
“I think someone’s enjoying themselves,” Lando smiled back at you as yet another driver waved goodbye. Lando bounced your son in his hold, making sure that you saw just how big his smile was. 
“Is it our son, or is it secretly you?” You joked. 
“I’m having the time of my life,” Lando proudly admitted, unable to contain himself. “I always knew it anyway, but papaya really does suit my boy.” 
Your head shook at Lando’s grin, “it was only a matter of time before I ended up losing my son to McLaren, wasn’t it?” 
“His whole wardrobe will be papaya soon, I’ll make sure it’s packed out with plenty of merch,” Lando assured you, “and everyone will know that he is daddy’s biggest fan.” 
“I remember the days when I was your biggest fan,” you joked, “now I’ve just been pushed aside like I’m nothing thanks to our child.” 
“Don’t worry, there’s a place for you at number two.” 
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
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inkedinshadows · 2 days ago
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A Place Called Home
Pairing: Azriel x f!reader
Summary: Follow Azriel as he recalls all the places where he's lived but never belonged, until he finds the one where he finally does.
Warnings: a bit of Inner Circle slander, I guess? But not really tbh. Mentions of wing clipping
Word count: 2.1k
A/N: I don't know what I think of this one tbh. It's not exactly what I had in mind, but I've made my peace with it. @azrielappreciationweek
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Azriel had never belonged in his father's mansion. He never once believed he did. But he didn't belong in Illyria, either.
Though he was Illyrian, he always disapproved of their backward traditions, especially regarding females.
He had seen how his mother was treated; he knew what had happened to Cassian’s, and too many times during his training in Windhaven, he had to witness brutal clippings without being able to stop them.
How could he belong in such a place? A place where females were treated as little more than objects and breeding mares, where children were taught to fight as soon as they could walk and left to care for themselves in the mud and cold?
He had done horrible things—most of which to protect his family and court—and they still haunted him in his sleep at times. But he liked to think that he was at least better than the Illyrian brutes he had grown up among. That there were certain lines even he wouldn't cross.
Illyria was a beautiful land, with its snow-capped mountains and frozen lakes. It could be merciless and harsh, but that was nature. Its inhabitants, however, chose to be that way, and Azriel had long since lost faith in any change.
~~~~~~
He didn't belong in Rosehall, either.
He was always welcome there and visited as often as he could, but that was his mother’s house. He had bought it for her as soon as he had enough money.
It was her safe place, her haven, where she didn't have to worry about anything and where she wasn't anyone's servant. Azriel remembered the tears shining in her eyes the first time he brought her there, when the house was still empty and cold.
It had taken him a long time to convince her that she didn't need to worry about money. He worked directly for the High Lord now, and he was paid well enough for her to furnish the house however she liked.
She had still tried not to spend too much, but she had chosen each piece of furniture and decoration with attentive care. It was the first time she had a place she could call her own after centuries of living, and Azriel liked what she had done with it. The place was simple yet elegant, with cream-colored walls and wooden furniture. Colorful flowers bloomed on the windowsills, and paintings hung in the hallway and the living room. She had even made sure to have a bedroom for him, so he could stay as long as he wished.
But Azriel's favorite part of Rosehall was probably the delicious smell of food wafting through the rooms. Now that she no longer had to cook for domineering males, she had rediscovered her passion for cooking. Whether it was spices, freshly baked bread, or roasted meat, the smell never failed to make his mouth water.
Yes, Azriel enjoyed his time in Rosehall and tried to visit as often as he could, but it was still his mother’s house—not his.
~~~~~~
He belonged in the Inner Circle, he guessed. Though sometimes he felt like he didn't.
Azriel cared about Amren; after all, he had known her for centuries. But it was still Amren. How many times had it been just the two of them, spending time like normal friends? Once, maybe twice, and even then, their conversations had mostly revolved around Court matters. Sometimes he wondered if they would have ever approached each other at all if it hadn't been for Rhys bringing them together.
And then there was Mor. He had spent centuries quietly loving her, longing for something he could never have. He had long since stopped believing that her concerned glances and gentle touches meant anything beyond deep affection—sisterly affection. Yet he'd held on to those feelings even when they started to fade, because he had never known anything different. It was a twisted form of both protection and punishment: if he still loved her, then he wouldn't risk his heart being broken by another rejection. Yet knowing Mor would never feel the same, that she had her own lovers and relationships, was like being stabbed in the chest. He wasn't sure when it started to hurt a little less each time he thought about it.
With that pain easing, the resentment he'd carried buried deep down for most of his life began to fade as well. He never once held it against Cassian. He knew it wasn't his fault Mor had chosen him. Who would have chosen Azriel anyway? He wished things were different, but he didn't blame either of them. It still chafed, though. It was something he couldn't shake, like a shadow lingered on the edges of his heart, and it resurfaced whenever he saw Mor and Cassian together.
And his brother… Azriel loved him deeply, and he was grateful to have him in his life. But there was no denying how different they were, and sometimes it felt as if Cassian didn't really understand him. There was a rage inside Azriel, rarely rising to the surface but it was there, born the moment he'd seen his mother's fear in the presence of his father. That rage never left. It grew until Azriel had to learn how to contain it, to live with it, for the sake of the people around him and his own.
Cassian never really understood it. Rhys did, though. Azriel knew that if he pushed, Rhysand would match him. Yet his brother still tried to thaw and tame that icy rage he had grown so accustomed to, which was probably an honorable aim—if Azriel hadn't lived with it so long that he wasn't sure who he would be without it.
He loved his family deeply, and he knew they loved him back. But they didn't always understand him, and he often felt out of place among them.
~~~~~~
Velaris was his home, and he'd do anything to protect it. He tortured and killed for that very reason many times. But at the end of the day, the City of Starlight was just that—a city. No matter how beautiful or welcoming, it was too vast a place to call home.
He had never bothered buying an apartment or a town house for himself. Maybe he should have. But the House of Wind had always been enough, with its views and endless rooms. It was practical living there—there was the training ring, the hall where Rhys held court, and the library for when he wanted some quiet.
But the House of Wind belonged to Rhys. Now that he had given it as a mating present to Nesta and Cassian, it was theirs. They assured him he could still live there, that his room would always be his, but Azriel had preferred to move out. He had no interest in living there during their mating frenzy.
The townhouse and the river house belonged, once again, to Rhys and Feyre. They never made him feel like he owed them anything for staying there—Elain lived there too, after all—but Azriel longed for a place he could call his own. Yet the idea of buying an apartment had still felt too definitive. He had tried, but none of the places he'd seen made him want to own them.
He had almost given up hope of finding a place he could call home, but then he met you. And he realized, after five hundred years, that maybe home wasn't a place at all.
“Az?”
Your voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present, to the feel of you in his arms and your big eyes staring up at him.
“Baby, are you listening to me?”
Azriel blinked, slightly shaking his head to chase away the remnants of his past. He looked down at you, and his heart fluttered at the love shining in your eyes.
“Hi,” you said with a soft smile. Your hand came up to cup his face, the touch warm and familiar. “I lost you. Where did you go?”
“Sorry,” he breathed. “I was just thinking.”
You waited patiently, giving him the freedom to continue or return to your conversion. Embarrassment flooded Azriel as he realized he couldn't remember what you were talking about.
He held you imperceptibly tighter, trying to find the right words to convey what he felt.
“I never felt like I fit in anywhere,” he said eventually. His voice was quiet even in the silence of the room, and he struggled to keep his eyes open when all he wanted to do was lean into your touch. “I've been looking for where I belong for centuries.”
It came easy to voice those thoughts to you. You never judged. You listened, and then you gave your opinion or simply shared your own thoughts. You saw all of him, and you didn't run from it. You accepted him. You loved him.
Sometimes, Azriel still wondered if it was all a dream or if you were really a part of his life.
“And have you found it?” you murmured, your thumb brushing his cheek just below his eye.
Azriel nodded. “I found it.” He took your hand, gently removing it from his face to bring it closer to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss to your palm, his lips lingering on your skin before he repeated the gesture with your fingertips. Your smile was soft as he murmured, “I found you.”
Your eyes, which had been following the movements of his lips, shot up to meet his. Even after a year together, he was still mesmerized by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. It was so easy to read you, and right now, blended with your unconditional love, he could see curiosity and amusement playing on your features.
“Me?” you repeated, your voice a murmur.
Azriel nodded once more, letting go of your hand only to bring his own up to your cheek. “Yes, you, my love.” He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he breathed in your scent. “It doesn’t matter where we are. You’re where I belong. You’re my home.”
Wherever you went, he would follow. If you woke up one day and told him you wanted to move to the Spring Court, or even to Vallahan far east on the continent, he would go with you. He would go with you to the end of the world if you asked.
He could feel your heart beating faster in your chest, and a playful smile appeared on your lips as you pulled back to look into his eyes. “So… is this the right moment to tell you that I wanted to ask you to move in?”
Azriel stared at you, eyes wide, a huge grin slowly spreading across his face. His arms tightened around you, and then you squealed in surprise as his hands found your backside and he picked you up. The sound was quickly swallowed by his lips crashing against yours, and you could do nothing but kiss him back and wrap your legs around his waist, careful not to brush against his wings.
You were both breathing slightly faster when Azriel pulled back, but he didn’t let you go. If anything, he held you tighter, as if worried you might disappear.
“I’ll take it that’s a yes?” you chuckled. Your fingers brushed the hair on the back of his neck, his wings rustling quietly at the sensation.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Of course it’s a yes, love.”
He didn’t care if your apartment wasn’t suited for an Illyrian, if he had to carefully maneuver his wings to avoid knocking things over. He had already spent so much time at your place that he was used to it by now. The thought of staying there permanently—of waking up with you in his arms every morning, of coming back after a long day knowing you’d be there too—filled him with so much joy that his heart could burst.
You beamed, and all Azriel wanted to do was to spin you around and never let you go. And so, he did, because nothing was stopping him. He was going to share a home with his love, and nothing had ever made him this happy before.
As he spun you around, you threw your head back and laughed joyfully, the sound echoing off the walls. Azriel’s laughter joined yours when he stilled, and then you were kissing him again.
After more than five hundred years, he finally knew where he belonged. And it wasn’t a place.
It was with you.
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General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch
Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever
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lndsismaeverything · 3 days ago
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Lnds men taking their kids(s) to first day of school
Y'all I can't I accidentally posted this shit half way through writing. Which reminds me why I don't like writting 🫠but here yalll go
Xavier : daughter
Xavier would be the type to be waking up late for his daughter first day of school and other school days But lucky you woke them both in time before they're gonna run late , bec you had an early mission today Even if they run late your husband could just teleport with your daughter to the school "this is a crime for waking up this early just for school " you husband complain next to him was his daughter robbing her eyes with one hand and the other holding her dad hand You already prepared everything last night, packed her bags, set her uniform on the hanger and also asked her and your husband what kind of breakfast they want
You both get out of the house and head towards the elevator "Sorry I can't go with you bunbun, but daddy will drop you off " you apologize to your daughter as u can't bring her to school for the first day you give your husband and your daughter a good bye kiss before heading off in your motorcycle going the opposite direction "Looks like it's just you and me princess hold my hand and don't let go "
Sure he could just teleport there, but- " do you want me to carry you? " your daughter just nodded, with that Xavier lifted her up walked towards the school while his daughter took a lol nap on the way there
Arriving at the school and looking around which class his daughter will be staying, he puts her down and kneel to her level
" so this is where I'm going to stay in a few hours?" Your daughter looked around the classroom
Xavier just nodded and patted her head before telling " yup, just like what we talked about last night. after that I pick u up and maybe mommy too "
" okay... But promise me to pick me up in time okay Daddy " she holds her pinky out, without any hesitation Xavier wraps his pinks with hers " I promise ''
Soon after both you and your husband pick up your daughter from kindergarten.
" Daddy ! , mommy! You came in time! " she runs towards you guys and hugs both of your legs
Overall your daughter first day of school when better then her classmates. Because she didn't know why everyone cried at there parents. It's not like they leaving them there forever .
Or they didn't had the talk the night before
Zayne : son
Let's say like father like son.
It wasn't hard to wake your son up for the first day of school . Because you don't have to wake him up by the time you when to his room he was already getting dressed
So you decided to make some morning breakfast and their lunches. Breakfast was something simple , fluffy pancakes with some whipped cream and berries dusted with power sugar
As for lunch some rice with stir fried chicken with some vegetables including carrots. Even if they both don't like carrots they will eat them no matter what because you made them , and also why , you took this advantage to feed them some carrots ( bec it's good for the eyes ). But not very day, just a few time a month
After they finished eating your son and husband took their belongings and head towards the door, as you about to join them they stopped you
" my love , I think is best if you take some rest. You had a rough day yesterday. Let me take care of our lil snowflake to school "
" but it's his first day "
" it's okay mommy, dad is right you need to take extra rest and beside you can go with me tomorrow also you can pick me up after school "
What a wonderful husband and son you have taking care of you
Both getting in the car zayne check if his son putting his seatbelt on from the mirror , with that he head straight to his son school
First day of school was just like other days but just a lil different. He just had to sit at his desk and listen to the teacher for a few hour
Your son classmates where jealousy of his lunchbox , of course when they ask if they can have a bite he immediately said no, even when they asked for the carrots .
A no is a no
You son highlight of the day was when you pick him up from school and headed toward his dad workplace on your motorcycle. He likes being around his dad office learning and observing him because in the future he wants to be like his dad so he can take care of you in the future
Rafayel : daughter
Everything was going smoothly ,everything . From waking both them up and getting ready for school .
Rafayel definitely spent about half an hour dressing his pretty daughter up.
" are we going for pigtails or a messy bun orrrr braids?"
" which color bows do you want? "
" let's add some sparkles these glitter spay will do just perfect"
From eating a light seafood breakfast and heading out of the door and into his sports car everything was smooth sailing
Until you where standing at the school gates. Everyone looked at your husband sport car, you knew and HE KNEW. As it shows it on his face but don't mind him he loves the attention he's getting from the people
Looking for your daughter classroom was easy. The hardest part was letting her go and your husband to let go of her
" Rafayel, darling please let her go."
It was going well, you told your daughter that she's gonna stay here for a few hours and then picking her up. Until...
You're about to leave with Rafayel until you daughter runs up crying for the both of you. And your darling husband lost it.
You husband and daughter hugged each as you both cry creating a scene that got looks from everyone
Let's say you spend the whole 15mins to break the two of them apart with the teacher help of course. The teacher comfort her and you do the same with your daughter and husband.
Rafayel pouted the entire way to his car his red eyes are hiding behind his sunglasses
" I can't believe you Rafayel " your husband just scoffed at you as you laughed at him. He continue to opened the door for you before closing it .
Rafayel drives you to your work which u have him a kiss afterwards.
" one more goodbye kiss " it wasn't one it turned into 10
At home Rafayel watch his clock tiks , he wishes it would go afters. When it was finally time to pick you and your daughter up he was the happiest man he could be on earth
The moment your daughter and you husband eyes meet they both started running towards each other. Embracing each other like they been separated for 800years
Stylus : twin boys
It's not surprises that sylus woke up and made breakfast for all of you when you came down from the stairs as you just dress the twins up for school
You set up the table with the help of the twins of course. You put your twins lunches in there bag and you do the same with yours before heading out to the garage
Sylus debate on driving his SUV or take the bikes. You ended up with the bikes and making a wager out of it
" whoever make it there first is the victor and the last one there will grand the victor one wish" which sylus words you put on your helmet and so does the twins
" mommy vs daddy . This will be easy" your oldest said towards your youngest " get ready because mommy will win " your youngest fights back to his older twin
The race started when Mephisto cawed three times .
"Caw...caw... CAWWW" and off y'all go
Sylus ended up winning and your oldest son cheered and demanded his twin to give him his dessert for tonight . He agreed but-" next time I'll come back for your ass "
You dropped the twins in there class and sylus took some photos so he can print it and put it in his photo album, for future memories
The both of you said goodbyes to your kids and head back towards your bikes
" oh sweetie I haven't tell you want I wish for as victorious. I want us to try for another kid a daughter this time ." Feeling the heat rise up your cheeks,You punch his shoulder earning a chuckle from him " I'm being serious sweetie "
After it was time to pick up your twins from school. The both of decides it was best to take the SUV instead of the bikes
When the two of you arrived there was a sight to see. Your twins boys already a line a group. It looks like ther where playing cops and robbers in the playground . Your twin boys being the cops and some other
It looks like they where making a plan to capture the robbers. Both of them took leaderships and successfully capture all the robbers and putting them in jail
" looks like they took leadership after their father " you told your husband smiling at the twins working together
"Don't worry our daughter will take after you, sweetie" you just punch him again and called the twins as it time to go home
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khorneschosen · 3 days ago
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You're asking to have an argument about Trump's previous term to this one.
When it's quite clear the issue is about which side has the most empathy, common sense, and tolerance.
And when it comes to common sense y'all have none common sense belongs to a philosophy that you no longer practice or believe in.
It's a bumpkin version of rationalism, which Marxist outright deny the existence of. So you guys don't have common sense because you guys aren't rationalist or for that matter rational. Hence why existentialism formed as a reaction to the fact that the prophecy of Marx never came to fruition.
The masses and the proletarian never revolted on mass capitalism didn't become one giant monopoly nor is it really in danger of ever becoming a monopoly where the state is not involved.
What's more the standard living and wealth of the people living under capitalism or even quasi or broken capitalism are still doing better than all the people states of the world Even when those people states have access to a great deal of resources from the rest of the world.
This is by the way why market socialism is the big new hot push, what they really should call it however is modern Chinese socialism.
And however has the exact same problems of a socialist government with fewer tools to be able to deal with it. It's basically the state controls you and you control the factories but we control you so we control the factories anyway. Which is remarkably how national socialism works, you know it as fascism.
And then when it comes to empathy you guys have what can only really be described as transactional collective empathy. If a person or a group does what you say you have a great deal of empathy for them so much so that you'll let them get away with anything however if any member of that group goes against you or is even really just neutral and a way that you can't abide, even a small way you have no empathy for them.
And we've seen that when it comes to cishet white men for a while, and Asians and Jews recently, and even more recently Arabs and Hispanics who do not vote Democrat.
What I'm really describing here is just an in-group preference based on political or philosophical lines, But even then it's more based around whether or not that particular group is useful to you. Because despite everything destiny is one of your guys and y'all treat him like shit, because at times he dares to challenge you guys on some of your worst excesses and on your own terms. In a way that you simply cannot ignore. You can't rightly call him a conservative because the evidence of your own eyes and mind do not allow you to.
This too by the way goes for tolerance, The one axiom that you seem to have in group and outgroup preferences for being your politics and how useful someone is to the cause, you have no tolerance for it.
Meanwhile conservatives come from various different areas of influence. The Protestant and Catholics have long had their doctrine changed to better meet and work with reality. The capitalists are hard realists to the point of irrational pragmatism at times. And the nationalists are operating on a very old form of your system but they do it just for the people within their own nation. Which is just demanding that the benefactors be within their national boundaries.
Oh and liberals have a strong philosophical tradition that goes back to the enlightenment. Of course I mean classical liberals rather than communist calling themselves liberal because it's a lot easier than calling themselves a communist.
So as far as logic goes they're nowhere near as bad.
And as for empathy they are by definition conservatives they are being challenged and at every point of the challenge they have allowed you to challenge them in ways that they frankly shouldn't have. That their own code would have allowed them to crush you at any point and yet refuse to out of empathy intolerance for your kind.
And we're talking collectively right we're not talking about individual examples because if that's the case we'll be here all night but in the broadest strokes conservatives do have empathy tolerance and they're far more logical. I mean even scientific studies have shown that they have more risk assessment which you define is fear for the sake of your propaganda but really it's just risk assessment. Which one we're dealing with the country that is the leader of the free world and if its economy goes tits up, will destroy the free world and an economic collapse from which it will never recover from I don't say that fear or risk assessment is misplaced.
Like baseline conservative is infinitely more rational. Baseline libertarian is infinitely more rational because they at least acknowledge the reality of economics or culture. Y'all routinely ignore the risks or even cost of your actions and policies and ideologically do not believe in rationality.
So yeah leftist and I do mean leftist are less rational, less empathetic and less tolerant.
Also if you want me to get to your second question reword it a little bit, it's confusing how it's currently written.
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lostfracturess · 2 days ago
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LAST DECEMBER MORNING — SATORU GOJO
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pairing — satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader
summary — on a frost-bitten december morning, you watch satoru gojo prepare for his fated battle with sukuna with infuriating calm, like he isn't planning to sacrifice himself for the greater good. you've spent years being his secret, clearing battlefields for him and stealing kisses between missions, but now you're faced with the most brutal truth. that sometimes the cruelest curse isn't the one that kills you — it's loving someone who belongs to the world before they belong to you.
word count — 5.4 k
warnings — heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood and violence, implied death, unhealthy relationship, sad ending
author's note — this has been rotting in my drafts since the final jjk chapter dropped, and i finally dragged it out into the light bc i'm procrastinating uni. fair warning, this is pure angst with zero comfort, just two people breaking each other's hearts because sometimes love isn't enough. anywayys, happy reading <3
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Winter had never felt so much like an ending.
You watched frost creep across the windows of your shared apartment, each crystalline pattern forming like cracks in glass, spreading slowly but inevitably.
Outside, the world lay hushed under winter's blanket, everything soft and serene. Birds traced lazy patterns against a sky so blue it hurt to look at, and fresh snow made everything clean and new.
It was the kind of morning that belonged in fairy tales, the kind poets write about when they want to capture peace in words. Strange, how you'd never imagined death would choose such a beautiful day.
You watched Satoru move through his routine, each gesture precise and unhurried. White hair caught the pale sunlight as he smoothed it back, his reflection in the mirror handsome as ever before he adjusted his clothes, and put on his blindfold.
You'd watched him prepare for countless missions before, but this felt different. This felt final.
The normality of it all was almost cruel — how he could stand there, getting ready like this was just another day, just another fight. Like the sun wasn't rising on what could be your last morning together.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily forward, each second falling like a stone into still water. Time felt strange, both rushing too fast and moving too slow. You wanted to grab the clock's hands, force them to stop, to give you just a few more moments in this morning that felt like borrowed time.
"You're staring," he said without turning around, a slight smile playing at his lips.
"Can you blame me?" You were curled up in the window seat, tea growing cold in your hands. "It's not every day your— whatever we are goes to fight the King of Curses."
He turned then, and even through the blindfold, you could feel the weight of his gaze. "Whatever we are?" There was amusement in his tone. "After all this time, you still don't know what we are?"
"Well, we're not exactly big on labels," you pointed out, trying to keep your voice light despite the heaviness in your chest. "Secret relationship and all that."
"Ah, but that's what makes it fun, isn't it?" He crossed the room to where you sat, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. "The sneaking around, the secret meetings—"
"Satoru." You caught his hand. "How are you so calm about this?"
He tilted his head, considering. "Would you prefer if I was panicking?"
"I'd prefer if you showed any emotion at all about the fact that you're about to fight Sukuna." You stood up, setting your tea aside. "You've been acting like this is just another day, just another fight, but it's not. You know it's not."
"I think I've shown plenty of emotion," he said, pulling you closer with a playful smile. "Just last night, if I recall—"
"Don't." You pressed a hand against his chest, keeping him at arm's length. "Don't deflect. Not today."
The smile faded from his face, replaced by something more serious. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to tell me why you're so calm. I want you to tell me why you're not worried." Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed on. "I want you to tell me why it feels like you're saying goodbye."
He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing patterns on your wrist where he still held it. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. "The world needs to move forward. It needs to find someone stronger."
"What are you talking about?" You pulled back slightly. "You're the strongest there is."
"Am I?" His smile was gentle, almost sad. "Or is that just what everyone needs to believe?"
"Satoru—"
"The world has relied on me for too long," he continued. "They've made me their symbol, their savior, their stupid hero. But what happens when I'm gone? Who protects them then?"
"You're not going anywhere," you said. "You're going to win. You always win."
He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. "Sometimes winning isn't about surviving. Sometimes it's about making sure what comes after is better than what came before."
"That's not funny."
"I'm not trying to be funny." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'm trying to tell you that whatever happens today, the world will keep turning. It will find new leaders, new protectors. Maybe even better ones."
"I don't want new protectors," you whispered. "I want you."
"Ah, but you've always had me," he said softly. "Ever since that first mission together, when you told me my head was too big to fit through doorways. Do you remember?"
You huffed. "You were showing off, making everything more complicated than it needed to be."
"I was trying to impress you."
"You're always trying to impress me."
"But it's working, right?"
You pressed closer to him, breathing in his familiar scent. "You know it is, you idiot."
He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. For a moment, you both stood there in silence, listening to each other's heartbeats. The familiar rhythm brought back memories of how this all began, of the first time you'd been close enough to hear his heart race.
For loving Satoru Gojo had always been the most beautiful and dangerous thing in your world.
It started in blood, as most things in your world did. A mission gone wrong, cursed spirits thick in the air, the metallic taste of death sharp on your tongue. You’d seen him fight before—who hadn’t?
But that night was different. That night, you saw him bleed.
A special-grade curse caught you both off guard. One moment, he fought three curses at once like some untouchable god, and the next, he was crashing through three buildings, blood gushing from his mouth.
Something in your chest cracked at the sight — not from the impact of being thrown back yourself, but from seeing him, the strongest sorcerer alive, look so terrifyingly human.
You remembered how his blindfold had been torn, those devastating blue eyes meeting yours across the wreckage. Blood trickled down his chin, his usually perfect hair matted with debris, and yet he smiled. That damn smile that made your heart stutter even as cursed spirits attacked you from all sides.
“Trying to steal my spotlight?” he’d joked, wiping blood from his lips as he stood. “I’m the only one allowed to look cool here.”
You wanted to strangle him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream at him for making jokes when he could have died. You did none of those things. Instead, you cleared the area, giving him the perfect opening he needed to obliterate the special grade.
Later, after the dust had settled and the reports had been filed, he cornered you in the darkened hallway of Jujutsu High.
“You’re angry,” he said, not a question but a statement.
“I’m not angry.” You were furious. “I’m just wondering how someone who’s supposed to be the strongest can be so fucking reckless.”
He stepped closer, backing you against the wall. “Worried about me?”
“You wish.” But your voice shook, betraying you. Because you had been worried. Terrified, actually. The image of him lying in that wreckage, blood staining his white hair red, had burned itself into your mind.
“Liar,” he whispered, and then his lips were on yours.
Everything they said about Satoru Gojo was true — he was overwhelming, all-consuming, impossible to resist. Kissing him felt like being struck by lightning, like being unmade and remade in the space between heartbeats. You broke apart, both breathing hard, and reality came crashing back.
“Fuck,” you summarized eloquently.
He laughed, the sound low and rich. “That could be arranged.”
“Satoru.” You pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm. “We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re you. Because I’m me. Because there are a thousand reasons why this is a terrible idea.”
“I’m only hearing excuses.” He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Not actual reasons.”
And that was how it started — with blood and curses and kisses in dark hallways. With terrible ideas that felt too good to resist.
Keeping it secret was both easier and harder than you expected. Easier because everyone already knew how Satoru was — flirtatious, tactile, always pushing boundaries. No one questioned when he draped himself over your desk during meetings or appeared uninvited in your office and stayed for hours.
Harder because every moment felt like a lie of omission. Harder because you had to watch him walk into danger again and again, had to maintain professional distance when all you wanted was to grab him and never let go.
You stole moments where you could find them. Quick kisses in empty classrooms, heated encounters between missions, quiet nights in your apartment when the world thought he was somewhere else entirely.
It ate at you sometimes. Not because you wanted to announce it to the world, but because each moment felt borrowed, stolen from a future you might never have.
Every time he left for a mission, every time he faced another curse, you wondered if this would be it. If this would be the time your last memory of him would be a secret smile across a meeting room, a cryptic message that no one else understood. But then he’d come back, always with that insufferable smile, usually with some ridiculous story about how amazing he’d been.
He’d find ways to touch you in public that looked casual — a hand at the small of your back during briefings, fingers brushing as he passed you documents, his body angled toward yours in crowded rooms like a sunflower seeking light.
And the worst part? The absolute worst part was how good he was at pretending. How easily he maintained his public persona — the untouchable, unbeatable Satoru Gojo, who flirted with everyone and meant it with no one.
Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you in meetings with the same expression he gave everyone else, and for a moment, you’d wonder if you’d imagined everything between you.
But then night would fall, and he’d show up at your door with takeout and that soft smile he saved just for you. He’d kiss you like he was trying to apologize for every moment he had to pretend you were nothing special, like he was trying to prove that this, the two of you, was the only real thing in his world.
You never talked about the future. How could you? In your line of work, tomorrow was never guaranteed. Each mission could be your last, each kiss could be your goodbye. The closest you ever came to acknowledging it was in the desperate way he’d hold you after a close call, in the way you’d trace his features in the dark like you were trying to memorize them by touch.
Some nights, when sleep eluded you both, he’d tell you about the weight of being the strongest, about the exhaustion of being everyone’s last hope.
He’d whisper his fears into your skin — not of death or defeat, but of failing those who believed in him. Those were the moments when the great Satoru Gojo disappeared, leaving just Satoru, just a man who carried the world on his shoulders and made it look easy.
You lived for those moments. The quiet ones, the real ones, the ones where he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive but just yours. Just as you were his.
You carved out your own little infinity in the spaces between battles and duties. A secret world where his laugh wasn’t for show, where your touch wasn’t professional, where you could just be the two of you without the weight of expectations and reputations.
But infinity, as it turned out, had limits. Even his.
Looking at him now, preparing to face Sukuna with that same causality he brought to everything, you wondered if this was how your story was always meant to end. If all those stolen moments were just preparing you for this — one last morning, one last smile, one last chance to pretend tomorrow might come.
The world needed someone stronger, he said. But you needed him. And maybe that was the cruelest curse of all — loving someone the world needed more than you did.
"Promise me something," you said then.
"Hmm?"
"Promise me you won't just give up. Promise me you'll fight to come back."
He pulled back slightly, reaching up to remove his blindfold. His striking blue eyes met yours, intense and clear.
"I promise," he said, "that everything I do today will be for a better tomorrow."
"That's not what I asked."
"It's the only promise I can make."
"Stop." Your voice turned sharp, anger finally breaking through. "Stop talking about tomorrow. Stop talking about the future and the next generation and whatever noble sacrifice you think you need to make. I don't care about any of that."
"Don't you?"
"No, I don't." You grabbed his jacket, fingers twisting in the fabric. "I don't care if the world needs someone stronger. I don't care if the next generation needs to step up. I care about you, you impossible man. I want you here, alive, with me. Is that so wrong? Am I not allowed to be selfish when it comes to you?"
"Huh." He caught your hands in his, but didn't pull them away from his jacket. "And here I thought you understood me better than anyone."
"Don't." You tried to pull away, but he held firm. "Don't you dare try to make this about understanding. I understand perfectly. But you're wrong. You don't have to do this."
His smile faltered slightly. "It's not that simple."
"It is that simple!" Your voice cracked. "You're choosing to make it complicated. You're choosing to walk away, to... to what? Make some grand statement about the future? Prove that the world can survive without the great Satoru Gojo?"
"Someone has to."
"But why does it have to be you?" The words burst out of you, raw and desperate. "Why do you have to be the one to show them? Why can't you just fight to win, to live, to come back to—" You cut yourself off, biting back the words that wanted to follow.
"To you?" he finished softly.
"Yes," you said, dropping your forehead against his chest. "To me. Call me selfish, call me short-sighted, I don't care. I want more mornings like this. More everything. More of you, being insufferably calm and making terrible jokes and acting like the world isn't ending when we both know it might be."
He was quiet for a moment, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. When he spoke, his voice was gentler than before.
"I can't promise to come back." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But know this, every moment with you has been worth fighting for. Worth living for."
You pulled back enough to look at him, really look at him. "Then fight for more moments. Fight to make more memories. Fight to come back to me, not for some greater purpose or stupid sacrifice, but because you want to."
"And if I told you that wanting isn't enough?"
"Then I'd call you a liar." Your voice turned cold. "Because you're Satoru fucking Gojo. When has anything ever been impossible for you? When have you ever let anyone tell you what you can't do?"
​​"This is different—"
"How? How is this different? Because it's Sukuna? Because it's the fate of jujutsu society? Or because you've already decided how this story ends?"
His hands tightened on you, and for a moment, just a moment, you saw something flicker behind those blue eyes — doubt, fear, longing, you couldn't tell. But then it was gone, replaced by that same calm certainty that made you want to scream.
"Because I can't protect everyone—can't protect you if I allow myself to believe in a tomorrow," he whispered.
The gentleness in his voice, the soft way he delivered words meant to cut, made you want to tear the world apart. It was so perfectly Satoru — to break your heart like he was doing you a favor, to wound you with a tenderness that felt more cruel than any violence could be.
"I never asked you to protect me," you said finally. "I asked you to stay. There's a difference."
"Is there?" His hand came up to cup your face, shaking ever so slightly, betraying the calm he fought so hard to maintain. "Because every time I look at you, all I can think about is how many people would use you to get to me. How many would hurt you just to prove they could touch something I care about."
"So your solution is to what? Die nobly? Make sure there's nothing left for them to use against you?"
"My solution is to make sure the world doesn't need me anymore." His thumb brushed across your cheek, catching a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. "To make sure you don't need me anymore."
"That's not your choice to make. You don't get to decide what I need. You don't get to martyr yourself for some greater good and pretend it's for my protection."
"Then what would you have me do?" For the first time, there was a hint of frustration in his voice. "Ignore my responsibilities? Pretend I'm not who I am?"
"I would have you fight like you want to come back!" The words ripped from your throat. "Fight like there's someone waiting for you after. Fight like you love me as much as I love you!"
The confession rang out between you, and the moment it left your lips, you realized you'd never said it before. Through all the stolen moments, all the secret touches, all the nights you'd spent memorizing each other's bodies — you'd never actually spoken those words aloud.
You'd both danced around it, implied it in every action, every look, every unfinished sentence, but neither of you had ever dared to make it real with words.
Until now. Until you were angry enough, desperate enough, terrified enough to let it slip from your heart straight past your defenses.
"Love?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"Of course I love you, you idiot." Your voice equally quiet. "Why else would I be standing here, begging the strongest sorcerer alive to be selfish just once?”
He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, maybe a sob, his fingers tightening on you. "Don't," he whispered, and for the first time that morning, his voice was shaking. "Don't make this harder than it already is. Don't say things that make me want to—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "That make me want impossible things."
"Impossible? Since when does Satoru Gojo believe in impossible?"
"Since I realized being with you means putting you at risk." His thumb brushed your cheek, the gesture achingly gentle. "Since I understood that staying alive isn't the same as keeping you safe."
"I hate this." You shook your head. "I hate how calmly you can stand here and talk about sacrifice like it's inevitable. Like there's no other way."
"Would you prefer if I fell apart?" His smile turned sad. "If I raged and cried and promised things I might not be able to keep?"
"Yes," you admitted, your hands coming up to cover his where they still held your face. "Because at least then I'd know you want to stay as much as I want you to."
"Oh, my love." The endearment fell from his lips like a confession. "Wanting to stay has never been the question. The question is whether I can live with myself if I do."
"And what about whether I can live with myself if you don't?" Your voice broke. "What about whether I can forgive myself for not fighting harder to make you stay?"
"This isn't your fight."
"Like hell it isn't." You pulled back. "You think I spent months learning to clear battlefields just so you could take center stage? You think I perfected my technique to complement your infinity because I had nothing better to do?" You dug your nails into your palms, throat tight with fury. "I've been fighting alongside you since before you ever kissed me in that hallway. Before you ever decided I was worth protecting. Don't you dare tell me this isn't my fight when I've spent years making sure you had the space you needed to be great."
He was quiet for a long moment, studying you. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent. "And that's exactly why I need to go. The world doesn't need more people making space for me. It needs people who'll fill that space themselves."
You recoiled like he'd slapped you, hurt burning in your chest. "Is that what you think I've been doing? Making myself smaller for you? Made space for you because I was afraid to reach higher?" You stepped closer, deadly calm now. "I made space for you because that's what you do when you love someone."
His lips twitched into a smile. "So you do understand me."
"Don't pretend those are the same thing."
He was quiet for a moment. Then, instead of answering, he pulled you into a kiss that tasted like goodbye. Like all the tomorrows you'd never have, all the moments you'd never share, all the promises neither of you could keep. You kissed him back with everything you had — all your fury and fear and love condensed into this one perfect, terrible moment.
His hands tangled in your hair like he was trying to memorize the feeling, yours gripping his jacket as if you could keep him here through sheer force of will. When you finally broke apart, hearts pounding, foreheads pressed together in the space between one heartbeat and the next.
"I'll hate you," you whispered against his lips. "If you don't come back, I'll hate you for the rest of my life."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, and for once, his smile held an edge of something raw, something that looked almost like pain. "No, you won't."
"I will." Your fingers tightened in his jacket. "I'll hate you for making me fall in love with someone who was always planning to leave. I'll hate you for every morning I wake up alone, for every mission briefing where someone else stands in your place, for every year I have to leave flowers on your grave."
"You'll move on. You'll find someone—"
"Fuck you," you cut him off, the words sharp enough to draw blood. "Don't you dare tell me how I'll feel. Don't you dare stand here and plan out my future without you in it."
"I'm just trying to—"
"To what? Prepare me? Make it easier? There's nothing easy about loving you, Satoru Gojo. There never has been. But I chose it anyway. Every day, knowing this moment would come."
"What do you want me to do? Do you want me to say goodbye? Make it messy and painful and real?"
"I want you to stop pretending this is just another mission and show me something that tells me this is killing you like it's killing me."
The silence stretched between you like a chasm. For just a moment, beneath his careful composure, you caught a glimpse of the man behind the name — vulnerable, conflicted, maybe even afraid. But he buried it quickly, like he buried everything that might make him waver from his chosen path.
You'd always known this about him, hadn't you? Known it from that first bloody mission, from every fight where he'd put himself between the world and destruction.
Satoru Gojo was a man built for sacrifice, shaped by duty and power into something that could never truly belong to just one person. You'd fallen in love with him anyway, foolishly hoping that maybe love could be enough to make him choose differently.
But watching him now, seeing the gentle finality in every movement, you understood with crushing clarity that this was always how it would end. No amount of pleading or anger or love could change what he'd already decided.
He'd made his choice long before this morning, probably before he'd ever kissed you in that darkened hallway.
"Keep the tea warm for me," he said finally, stepping back. The words were casual, almost playful — exactly the kind of thing he'd say on any other morning. But that's what made it cruel. Even now, he was trying to soften the blow, pretending this was just another goodbye, just another mission.
You didn't say anything as he walked to the door. Didn't wish him luck or tell him to be safe. The time for those platitudes had passed.
Instead, you watched him pause in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame. For a moment, you thought he might turn around, might drop the act and let you see something real. One last true moment before the end.
He didn't fully turn, but his voice carried back to you, soft and achingly sincere. "I love you. More than anything." A pause. "That's why I have to go."
The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You'd never expected them, had made peace with the silence between heartbeats where those words should have lived.
You'd imagined them differently, in all the quiet moments you'd shared — whispered against your skin in the dark, laughed into your mouth between kisses, murmured sleepily on lazy mornings. Not like this. Never like this.
How cruel, that he would finally say them now, when they felt more like a funeral rite than a confession. A parting gift from a man walking towards his own chosen end, making what should have been beautiful feel like another wound. The words you'd never dared hope for now hurt more than a lifetime of silence ever could.
Your throat burned with all the things you wanted to scream at him — about how love should mean staying, about how he was breaking your heart while trying to save it, about how dare he make those words sound like goodbye when they should have been a beginning.
"I hate you," you whispered.
He made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been something more broken. "No, you don't." The certainty in his voice felt like another wound. "You love me. You said so yourself."
"I'll hate you." Your voice hardened with each word. "I'll hate you so much it'll make you wish you'd stayed."
His hand tightened on the doorframe, knuckles white with tension. For a heartbeat, you thought you'd finally cracked his composure. That he might turn around and choose you over duty, love over destiny.
He didn't.
The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded like an ending.
"But I'll wait for you anyway," you whispered to the empty room, hating yourself for the truth in those words.
The truth was, you'd always known it would end like this, known that loving Satoru Gojo meant loving someone who belonged to the world before he belonged to you.
But you'd been naive enough to hope. Foolish enough to think that maybe, just maybe, love could be enough to make him choose differently. That your selfish desire to keep him alive and whole could outweigh his selfless need to reshape the world.
The morning light cut across the empty room, highlighting the space where he'd stood moments before, and you wondered about the cruelty of it all.
Was it wrong to want to keep him here? To ask the strongest sorcerer alive to choose personal happiness over humanity's future? How many would suffer because you'd asked him to be selfish just this once?
But then again, how many had already been saved by him? How many times had he bled and broken and pieced himself back together for a world that only saw him as a shield, never as a man? Didn't he deserve the chance to live for himself, just once?
If love died today, buried six feet under noble intentions and greater goods, then maybe hate was all you had left. And wasn't there something pure in that? In hating him with the same intensity you'd loved him? In letting that hate fill the spaces he left behind, burning away the softness until all that remained was sharp edges and bitter truths?
The world needed Satoru Gojo the symbol, the untouchable god of jujutsu. But you'd needed Satoru, just Satoru, the man who brought you tea exactly how you liked it and kissed you like you were his everything. The man who was walking away, leaving you with nothing but memories and the taste of hate on your tongue.
Was it selfish to think your love was worth more than the world's need? Was it cruel to measure the weight of one heart against humanity's future?
Love and duty were never meant to be weighed against each other like this, weren't meant to be choices that tore a person in two. And perhaps that was the real tragedy — not that he was walking away, but that you'd let yourself believe he wouldn't.
You'd known how this story would end from that very first kiss. Had tasted it in every goodbye before a mission, felt it every time you waited anxiously for his return, seen it lurking behind every smile that never quite reached his eyes.
Loving Satoru Gojo meant loving someone who was always meant to be sacrificed. You'd just been naive enough to think sacrifice could look different, that it didn't have to end with you here, choking on love turned to ash in your mouth.
Your fingers traced your lips where those three words still lingered like a curse. The tea was getting cold on the windowsill. You should pour it out, make a fresh cup. Should start preparing for a world where Satoru Gojo was just a memory, a legend, a story of sacrifice and strength. Should learn how to breathe around the thorns growing in your chest where love used to live.
Instead, you stayed frozen, caught in the space between what was and what could have been. Because maybe he was wrong. Maybe the world didn't need someone stronger. Maybe it just needed him to come back. You certainly did.
But it was too late for maybes now. He was already gone, walking toward a destiny he'd chosen long before he'd chosen you. And you were left here, caught between hating him for leaving and loving him for exactly who he was — a man who would always choose the greater good, even when it shattered both your hearts.
But perhaps the cruelest irony was that in trying to protect humanity, he'd forgotten he was human too. That in becoming everyone's shield, he'd forgotten shields could break. That hearts could break. That yours was breaking.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, indifferent to your pain, indifferent to the way your world had just walked out the door with a smile and a promise he might not be able to keep.
You'd wait anyway. Even knowing how the story was meant to end, you'd wait. Because that's what love was — not just the beautiful parts, but the ugly parts too. The waiting. The hoping. The hating.
The choosing to love someone even when they choose something else. Even when that love turns to poison in your veins.
Even when they choose the world over you.
The tea had long gone cold when you finally moved, muscles stiff from standing still for so long. You'd sworn you wouldn't watch. Had promised yourself you wouldn't be there to see him die for his greater tomorrow.
But your hands were already reaching for your jacket.
Because that was the thing about loving Satoru Gojo — even when it turned to hate, even when it felt like acid in your throat, you couldn't look away. You'd watch him fight Sukuna. Watch him smile that infuriating smile as he chose the world one last time.
After all, you'd already promised to hate him if he didn't come back.
The least you could do was be there to keep that promise.
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author's note — thank you for reading this little piece of heartbreak. i was very unsure if it will ever see the light of day but i finished it now bc i was in the mood for pain. if you enjoyed, i would greatly appreciate a reblog or comment. hope your heart isn't too broken <3
ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!
tags — @fayuki @starmapz @saurondriell @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna
@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia
@janbannan @bloopsstuff
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© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.
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creamflix · 2 days ago
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toji fushiguro x female reader; heavy, heart-crushing angst, not a lot of comfort. reader is toji's second wife, megumi's step-mom. concept inspired by @/yunymphs nsfw fic, off your shoulders — masterlist here ☆
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marriage is supposed to be a blessing, a bond that seals two lives into one, a promise of belonging.
you’d always dreamed of it.
sharing every first moment with someone — the first kiss as newlyweds, the first lazy morning dance in the kitchen, the first time lying side by side, tangled in each other. you’d imagined a life full of firsts, a life that would feel like you’re writing a story together, each page a piece of both of you.
but with toji, the man you love and who loves you, it feels like stepping into the middle of a book already written.
he’s had his firsts, some so precious that traces of them linger like shadows in your home. and you try — god, you try — to let that be enough, to love him and his son, megumi, with all the warmth and devotion you can muster. yet some days, you feel like you’re just outside their world, looking in.
it’s in the everyday moments, these small interactions that remind you of everything they had before you came along. moments like this morning, when you’re up early making breakfast, hoping to surprise toji with something special. you’re chopping vegetables, humming softly to yourself, trying to imagine the look on his face when he comes in, maybe pulls you close and says you don’t have to go through the trouble. you’ve seen couples do that — little gestures to remind each other they’re together.
you want that, too.
but as you start to crack an egg into the pan, you hear megumi calling from down the hall. “dad, where are my soccer cleats?”
your heart clenches. before you can even move to help, toji’s already calling back, voice easy, like it’s a scene they’ve played out a hundred times. “try under the stairs, where your mom used to keep ‘em.”
his mom. megumi’s mom.
the woman who came before you, whose shoes you will never be able to fill.
the words hang in the air, chilling. you place the egg down and pause, the silence settling heavy on your shoulders. you don’t hate her, not in the slightest — you’ve only ever heard lovely things about her. if anything, you’re grateful to her for the habits, routines, the sense of belonging she built with them, for raising megumi to be as kind as he is.
but still, there’s a sting every time she’s mentioned, a reminder that no matter how much you love toji, a part of him will always belong to her.
maybe that’s normal, you tell yourself, shaking off the thought. you grab the spatula, focusing on the way the eggs sizzle in the pan, trying to calm the knot that’s forming in your stomach.
“i’m… making breakfast, by the way,” you call out, trying to keep your voice light. maybe this will be the moment toji notices, realizes you’re trying to make him smile in your own way.
“yeah, thanks, babe,” he says from the hall. he’s already moved on, ruffling megumi’s hair as they laugh about something you can’t quite hear.
right, you think, fighting the wave of hurt that sweeps over you.
maybe that’s just the way it is.
you stare down at the breakfast you prepared, feeling a pang of something deeper than you’d care to admit. you’re doing your best to fit in, to add to the life he’s built, but sometimes, it feels like nothing more than an afterthought. it’s silly, really — you know they care about you, know toji chose you because he loves you.
but love doesn’t always erase what came before.
and it’s not his fault that his past is so deeply woven into their present, into your present.
by the time they wander into the kitchen, you’ve already set out the plates, adding a smile to mask the ache twisting inside you. megumi gives you a small nod, a muttered “thanks,” while toji walks over, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “looks good,” he says with that lazy smirk, and you feel the flutter of warmth, the one that always ignites when he shows even the smallest affection. but it quickly fades as he moves back to his son, launching into an old joke that you don’t understand.
you sit down across from them, feeling the laughter spill around you, each chuckle a reminder of the bond they share. you know it’s unreasonable to feel left out; after all, you’ve only been a part of their lives for a fraction of the time.
and they are good to you. they include you in most things, make an effort to make you feel like part of the family.
but there are these subtle moments, these glances, these familiar gestures, that you can never quite touch.
you watch as toji reaches over, ruffling megumi’s hair, that same fond smile lighting his face. and it’s like watching them dance to a song you can’t hear. a piece of you aches to ask, where do i fit into this?
“you two are adorable,” you say, almost to yourself, hoping they hear the love in your voice despite the sadness resting there.
you can’t say the words that sit heavy in your chest, the longing to belong to them in a way that feels real and whole. instead, you keep your gaze on your plate, focusing on the small bite of eggs you’ve managed to lift to your lips, the only sound in your head the quiet plea that maybe one day, this feeling will pass.
maybe one day, watching them from afar will stop hurting so much.
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tpwk-formula1 · 15 hours ago
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Paddock Bunny Series - 1
AN - Yay! I'm so happy for the first post to my new series! I hope you like it and if you have any ideas of what you want to see happen in the world of Y/N Brown feel free to message me with your ideas! I have nothing planned for this series and no real end goal so this could be 10 chapters long to 100 chapters long just depends on how much you guys like it!
Happy Birthday to Lando!!
Drivers included:
Lando Norris x Reader
Carlos Sainz x Lando Norris x Reader (not every chapter will have a threesome but it was necessary for the plot!)
TW - Squirting, multiple orgasms, oral (M and F receiving/giving), hickey, back scratches, protected sex, MxM (not all threesomes with have MxM), cum swallowing, cum swapping
WC - 4.1k +
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Y/N POV
"Please let me take you home tonight," Lando slurs in my ear for a third time tonight.
"Lando, you're too drunk to sleep with your bosses daughter," I reply back softly making him groan.
"Please, just one night and we never have to talk about it again," Lando says making me laugh and shake my head.
"If you get your maiden win within the first 10 races of the season I'll let you take me home for a night," I reply back making Lando's face light up at the thought.
"Deal!" Lando smile and runs off making me laugh softly and shake my head knowing he would forget about it by morning.
Lando and I have known each other since his rookie season in Formula 1 and have been close friends since than. It was no secret that Lando and I both had some kind of tension between us but neither of us trying anything knowing how much of a grey area it is.
That was back in February before the season had even started and now it's just a few hours after Miami and Lando is texting me the room number to his hotel room.
"478, it't the suite on the left corner"
"I thought you would have forgotten about that night"
"I'd never forget the one chance to finally sleep with you"
I just roll my eyes at the short conversation before gathering my belongings and making my way to the driver who would be taking me back to the hotel all Mclaren employees were staying in.
When I walked through the Miami hotel I quickly make my way up to Lando's room following the directions he had sent me.,
"Hi," Lando says opening the door after I had just knocked.
"Hi," I smile back inviting myself in. I spent the first couple minutes in Lando's hotel just looking at him to nervous to make the first move.
"Do you want this?" Lando asks softly making me look up and nod softly.
"Ya, a deal is a deal," I reply softly making Lando's smile drop slightly before taking a few tentative steps towards me.
"No, that's not how consent works. Do you want to do it?" Lando asks stepping even closer so we were now face to face with each other.
Instead of responding I connect my hands behind his neck and pull him down for a kiss. Once the initial shock wears off Lando melts into the kiss wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer into his chest.
"Fuck, Lan," I moan softly when Lando squeezing my ass with his hands.
Lando's lips start trailing from my lips down to my neck where he spends special attention on my neck looking for my sweet spot and once he locates is just under my ear I let out a soft moan making Lando smirk before sinking his teeth down and sucking softly I'm sure leaving a small mark behind.
I feel Lando's arms wrap around my waist tighter before softly mumbling jump. Once I just softly I wrap my arms around his waist and letting him walk us towards the bedroom.
Once we get into the bedroom he lightly drops me down onto the bed before he slowly pulls his shirt from his body before letting it fall to the ground.
Once Lando's upper half was bare he slowly climbed into the bed and over my body letting himself gently sit on my thighs while he stares down at me before slowly pulling my shirt up my torso and helping me sit up softly so he can pull it off completely.
Once he discards the Mclaren team kit on the ground he get his first glimpse of my bare tits.
"Fuck," Lando whispers softly still staring right at my tits before he takes a tit in each hand and gives it a firm squeeze making me moan softly at the feeling.
"Sound so pretty," Lando whispers out more to himself than me but it didn't matter my cheeks reddened at the praise regardless.
"Lan, please," I whine softly trying to grind my hips up making me smirk before pushing my hips back down towards the bed denying me of the little stimulation I was getting.
"Patience, I've waited years for my chance, you can wait another few minutes to feel my tongue," Lando replies back making me whine at his words while trying to clench my thighs together but being stopped by Lando's sturdy body blocking them from closing fully.
"God, you are even more beautiful that I could have dreamed," Lando groans while softly rubbing his fingers up my sides making me whine softly and goosebumps to grow across my skin.
Once Lando had felt like he teased enough he slowly started pulling my black Mclaren issued skirt off before discarding it somewhere on the floor before running a teasing finger over the center of my thong making me suck in a breath at the feeling of his finger light touch running across my overly sensitive clit.
"Fuck, you're already soaked for me," Lando says with a soft smirk before roughly ripping my thong from my body making me gasp out loudly at the sting of the fabric tearing against my skin.
It was clear in the moment that any patience left in Lando has completely ran out and now the starved man in front of me was ready to have his first warm meal in over a year.
When the first flick of Lando's tongue was sent right over my clit I can't help but moan out and arch my back at the feeling.
"Fuck," I moan softly when I feel Lando's tongue flick over my clit again making me whimper.
"SO fucking responsive," Lando groans out before diving back into my soaked pussy.
"Oh Lando," I moan when I feel Lando start sucking my clit into his mouth. My hands were now tangled in Lando's hair gripping and pulling him impossibly closer.
"So sweet," Lando mumbles into my pussy making me whimper at the vibrations being sent straight to my clit.
I knew with how long it had been with the last time I had slept with someone and how good Lando was abusing my clit I knew I wasn't gonna last long.
"Fuck," I scream out softly when I feel two of Lando's long fingers slip into my soaked pussy filling me up and grazing my G-spot was perfect precision.
"I can tell you're already close," Lando says with a smirk spread across his face while he starts finger fucking me making me moan and arch my back off the bed again which has Lando using his hand to push me back into the bed before attaching his mouth to my clit and sucking.
"I'm gonna cum," I announce loudly while gripping tighter into Lando's now messy curls.
No sooner than the words leaving my mouth Lando instantly speeds up the actions with his fingers and sucking even harder on my clit almost instantly throwing me over the edge into a loudly messy orgasm that left me shaking under Lando.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant when I have no time to come down from the overwhelming pleasure because Lando and still fingering me with lighting speed.
"Oh shit," I moan when I feel a second orgasm approaching before the tightly wound band in my tummy snapped throwing me over the edge into a squirting orgasm.
"Fuck," Lando gasps amazed at the pleasure he just had coursing through my body.
"Holy fuck," I gasp when I look down and realize the mess I had caused but with the smug look on Lando's face the mess is the last thing on his mind right now.
Lando slowly climbs out of the bed and quickly takes off his pants and briefs in one go letting his hard length spring free. My eyes are instantly locked on the red angry tip that was already leaking precum.
"I want a taste," I announce timidly while letting my eyes flicker up to lock eyes with Lando where he's staring at me with a smirk spread across his face.
"I'm serious," I say while climbing out of bed and getting on my knees and instantly gripping onto Lando's cock making him hiss at the sensations.
I slowly bring my mouth to the tip of Lando's cock where I lick a strip collecting a bit of the precum from his cock and let the flavors linger on my tongue before I take his tip into my mouth and start sinking down taking more of his cock as I go.
"Fuck," Lando groans letting his hands tangle into my brunette hair.
I can't help but moan at the feeling of Lando's cock fill my mouth more than any man has ever.
Once my nose brushes against the trimmed patch of hair covering Lando's pelvic bone I can't help but look up to find Lando with his head thrown back and his eyes closed. When I slowly start bobbing my head with still looking up at Lando I notice the way his face pinches up at the pleasure before he moans softly and looks down locking eyes with me.
"Fuck, you're a sight to be been," Lando groans using the hands tangled in my hair to bob me up and down his cock faster.
"Fuck, I'm not gonna last long," Lando groans at the admission but it only makes me speed up my action on his cock. I bring my hand up to his balls and start playing with them which has Lando groaning and pushing me all the way down on his cock before he lets out a low groan before cumming deep into my throat making me gag slightly but still swallow what I can.
"Fuck," Lando groans slipping his cock from my lips and rubbing the spit and cum mixture across my mouth marking me with his cum, his way of marking his territory.
"You're so hot. Your swollen little lips covered in my cum," Lando leans down close to my face with a smirk on his face before the heat of the moment got the best of him and he takes my mouth in his tasting his own cum on his lips.
With Lando's lips still locked with mine he slowly picks me up off the ground before he gently places me on the bed near the edge where I feel his still hard cock rub against my clit making me moan.
When Lando pulls away still standing at the edge of the bed I go to whine when I see him grab a condom off the night stand making me raise a brow at him.
"It was the first thing I went out and bought when I won," Lando says with a boyish smile on his face clearly embarrassed to admit how excited he was.
"I appreciate the readiness," I tell him softly while I watch him roll the condom down his length before stepping between my spread thighs again and tearing my clit with his cock before slipping his length into my pussy making me whimper at the feeling.
"Fuck, so damn tight," Lando grits out between clenched teeth making me whimper at that the burning feeling of being stretched out on his cock.
"Slower," I whimper when I feel Lando start rocking his hips into mine which has him stopping his movements giving me a few moments to adjust before I nod and feel Lando slowly pull his cock out an inch or so before thrusting back in making both of us moan at the feeling.
"Oh," I moan softly when I feel Lando's thrusts start to pick up making my nails dig in a bit deeper into his shoulders making him hiss at the feeling.
"Lan, it feels so good," I moan when I feel Lando's thrust turn from fast and shallow to hard and deep making me feel him in a whole new way. I can feel my nails digging into his back, probably leaving marks behind but with the way Lando only speeds up the harder I grip him I don't think he has any complaints.
"Fuck, you feel so good," Lando grunts out clearly getting close to the edge.
"I'm gonna cum," I announce suddenly when I feel Lando's cock drill right into me G-spot over and over again.
"Fuck, cum with me," Lando grunts his hips shuddering a bit before I feel him start to cum into the condom sending me over the edge into another shaking orgasm.
"Fuck," Lando grunts coming down from his orgasm as he slowly slips his cock from my overstimulated pussy making me whimper at the stimulation.
"Fuck, you took me so well," Lando tells me softly helping me sit up before handing me a water bottle and letting me take a few sips before he takes a few sips himself.
"You're not weirded out to drink from the same straw as me," I ask softly making Lando laugh lightly.
"I tasted my cum from your lips, we're past sharing water bottles," Lando says softly making a me laugh with him and nod my head understanding.
For the next 30 minutes Lando and I spent it in the shower while he told me how good I did for him making me blush under the praise.
When we get out of the bathroom and I wince when I catch sight of Lando's back.
"I'm sorry," I say softly while running a light finger over one of the darker scratches.
"I would live the rest of my life with them if it meant I got to fuck you everyday," Lando says while looking at the damage in the mirror with a shrug.
"You want to do it again?" I ask shyly not even thinking about the possibility of doing it again.
"I mean, yeah. It was honestly the best sex I've ever had but if this was a one off for you, I'm more than okay with that," Lando tells me honestly making me smile and nod.
"I'd like to do it again," I tell him softly with a nod making him smile.
It's only a few days later when I get another Facetime from Lando. When I answer I come face to face with a smirking Carlos and a sheepish looking Lando staring back at me. Both boys where clearly shirtless on a yacht but from the looks of it they were still docked.
"You attacked my boy?" Carlos asks with a smirk falling from his lips making me jaw drop slightly at a total loss for words.
"I have no idea what you're on about Sainz," I respond back with a blush creeping up onto my cheeks.
"No? This should remind you," Carlos says while flipping the camera and showing me Lando's back that was still scattered with a few lingering marks.
"Okay, so Lando and I had a bit of fun. What about it?" I ask trying to be nonchalant. It had never been a secret that when Carlos joined Mclaren with Lando I had a crush on him so having a conversation like this year later it a bit bone rattling.
"I just wish I had gotten an invite," Carlos says while flipping the camera back to face a red faced Lando and a smug looking Carlos. I know my cheeks are as red as Lando's if not redder.
"What?!" Is the only word out of my mouth clearly still too stunned to speak.
"Oh cut the crap, Brown! It was no secret that you fancied me back in my Mclaren days. If you're in Monaco come to the dock," Carlos says with a smirk making me gawk at the two for a few seconds before I hang up the phone and get changed into a swimsuit.
I shoot Lando a quick text letting him know I would be there in a few minutes. I guess you could say curiosity killed the cat but if a long time crush was offering me a day on his yacht I wasn't gonna pass it up.
When I get to the dock I find Lando sitting at the nose of the boat with a sour look spread across him face while looking at his phone while Carlos is smirking with his arms crossed watching me approach him.
"We have company," Carlos announcing making Lando look up from his phone letting his sour look deepen.
"Before I step foot on this yacht. I need to know what is about to happen and if both of you guys are consenting," I saw while looking directly at Lando.
"There's zero pressure on what we do today. But both of us understand what could happen and we're on the same page, Lando's just but hurt he couldn't keep you to himself," Carlos says making me raise a brow at him.
"No Carlos, I'm annoyed at you because you haven't shut up for the past 15 minutes about what happened between me and her," Lando announces with a bit of a whiney voice making me laugh softly.
When I set onto the yacht I look around to make sure we were alone before I walk to Lando and stand between his legs and lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips.
"Do you want whatever could happen to happen?" I whisper making sure he knew it was just a conversation between us.
"Yes," Lando finally answers looking up at me through his long lashes.
“I’m positive, it wouldn't be the first time Carlos and I shared someone,” Lando admits softly making me look up at Carlos with a surprised face. He just sends me back one of his signature smirks making me roll my eyes jokingly before stepping away from Lando and placing my stuff where it belonged before pulling off my swimsuit cover and making me way to find Carlos is alright driving the boat away from the dock while Lando rests back allowing his tanned skin to soak up even more sunlight.
I climb onto the sofa next to Lando allowing my head to rest on his shoulder.
"We aren't doing a single thing you don't consent to, and Carlos is big on verbal consent," Lando tells me softly angling his head so he can look me in the eye.
"Okay," I reply softly with a small smile playing on my lips.
Once Carlos has gotten us far away from the shore I realize we are completely alone in a cove with not a single person around us.
When Carlos approaches both Lando and I he leans down and places a quick kiss on Lando's mouth making me gawk at them softly before Carlos turns his attention on me.
"Can I kiss you, Hermosa?" Carlos asks softly making a me nod my head but quickly give a soft yes remembering what Lando had just been telling me.
As soon as the word left my mouth Carlos crashes his lips onto mine and our kiss was the complete opposite of the one him and Lando shared. While his and Lando's was quick and a bit lack luster Carlos and I's is heated and intense.
When I feel Carlos softly graze his tongue against my bottom lip I part my mouth and feel Carlos's tongue tangle with mine making me whimper at the feeling.
"Fuck, such a sweet little mouth. Lando has told me your head game is the best, would you like to prove him right?" Carlos asks softly.
"Yes sir," I reply back softly while pushing Carlos to sit next to me making me turn my body towards him on my hands and knees with my ass facing Lando making him groan at the sight of my swimsuit riding up my ass.
I pull Carlos's swim trunks just enough to free his hard cock before bringing my mouth down to his cock and pulling it into my mouth making him hiss at the feeling of me taking his full length into my mouth.
"Fuck," Carlos groans throwing his head back when I feel the tip of his cock bypass my gag reflex taking him all the way.
I start bobbing my head on his cock making Carlos tangle his fingers into my hair while Lando pulls my swim bottoms to the side where he started teasing my clit making me moan around Carlos's cock.
Once Lando felt I was wet enough he grips into my hair pulling me off Carlos's cock making me whine at the loss. Once Lando gets me situated on my hands and knees but this time facing Lando I realize all the prep he had done wasn't for him but was for Carlos.
Lando pulls his shorts off letting me take his cock into my mouth while I feel the tip of Carlos's cock teasing my clit making me pull off Lando's cock and trying to turn my head.
"He's wearing protection," Lando tells me softly making me nod my head and get back to work with Lando's cock. When I feel Carlos slowly sinking his thick cock into my tight pussy I whimper at the stretch. I can tell he's wearing a condom making me smile softly to myself knowing Lando was telling me the truth.
I knew I wasn't gonna last long but when I feel my orgasm build almost instantly I start freaking out slightly trying to pull my hips away from Carlos.
"Am I hurting you," Carlos asks letting my hips go letting me get away slightly.
"No! I was about to cum," I admit sheepishly making Carlos groans and sink his cock back into me in one quick motion before pounding into me and throwing me over the edge almost instantly.
"I don't care if you cum in 3 seconds or 3 hours, I want you to let go," Carlos groans fucking me through my orgasm before slowing down almost completely letting me come down from my orgasm without over stimulating me but once I got a few minutes of rest Carlos gets right back to it making me moan around Lando's cock making him whimper and pull me off his cock not wanting to cum just yet.
"Fuck, Carlos," I moan rather loudly letting my voice echo across the water coming out far louder than I was hoping.
"So fucking tight," Carlos groans clearly getting close to the edge making Lando shove his cock back into my mouth. I could feel another orgasm building deep in the pit of my stomach and once I finally release I feel Carlos shove deep into me one last time before filling the condom up with his cock. I feel Lando shudder one last time before a loud whine leaves his mouth and he starts cumming filling my mouth with his cum.
"Don't swallow," Carlos groans while slowly slipping his cock from my pussy making a me turn my head slightly and open my mouth showing him my mouth full of cum.
"Swallow some of it and spit the rest into his mouth," Lando says out of breath behind me making me look at Carlos who has a smirk on his face and he nods giving me permission. I swallow half of Lando's load before standing up and pulling Carlos into my mouth and pushing the rest of the cum in his mouth where he quickly swallows it and pulls me in for a quick makeout before pulling back and grabbing his discarded swim trunks.
Lando helps me get dressed before pulling me back into his chest and letting me cuddle up with him.
"Who else have you told?" I finally ask in a hushed whisper while Carlos starts moving the yacht to another location.
"No one I swear! But I'm sure Carlos will tell Charles, who will tell Pierre, who will tell Yuki, who will tell everyone," Lando admits sheepishly making my face grow hot and a groan to leave my lips.
"Great so I'm about to become the paddock whore," I saw with a cringed look across my face.
"No, I'm positive if anything they'll just want a taste," Lando tells me softly making me groan and throw my head back.
"That might even be worse," I groan again making Lando laugh softly.
"You do what you want. If someone tries anything and you don't want it you tell them to fuck off," Lando says as if this was the most normal situation in the world.
Over the next few weeks the group chat that started with just Lando, Carlos and I had slowly grown in size. While I wasn't sure how word had spread so fast I was positive that my life was not the same one it was at the start of the season.
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cursedbanalities · 22 hours ago
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[[Figured I'd give it a go here!]]
My shoes were wet by the time I got to the manor, as were my pants and most of my belongings. Of course, the one time I didn't bring an umbrella was the time the sky decided to open up and pour all over me. Thankfully, I was able to take shelter on the mansion's deck, huddling under the roof. Despite the creepy and slightly worn-down look, it seemed the family was a fan of the macabre and kept their grounds well-maintained. There was a large graveyard in the distance, something that I had never seen on someone's property before, as well as several gargoyles and wrought-iron fences. Despite how soggy and cold I felt, I couldn't help but wonder what the townsfolk were going on about! These people probably just liked to embrace all things creepy and crawly.
I wiped the rain from my face, and noticed mascara stained my hands black. Great, I look like a friggin' raccoon now! I thought, desperately trying to find napkins somewhere in my purse. The door creaked open as I was wiping the mascara off of my face with a Taco Bell napkin, and I saw an extremely tall man with a square face standing in the doorway. He had to hunch over in order to properly see me, and was dressed in a full suit.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" I said in a hurry, stuffing my wet, soiled napkin back into my purse. I quickly motioned to the storm outside. "The, uhm... the rain slowed me down. I don't have a car, unfortunately. Um... I'm here about the ad?"
The tall man smiled. Lighting struck and thunder cracked as he did so, adding an uncomfortable amount of drama. He turned and began walking away, leaving the door open. At first, I thought he was going to close it in my face, but a moment went by before I realized he meant for me to follow him. I quickly ran inside, the mansion was colder than I had hoped, and carefully shut the door behind me.
I followed the tall man through the manor. The walls were covered with various pictures. Old family members in black and white look sternly ahead, though I could swear I saw their eyes following me as I walked by. A painting hangs over an unlit fireplace depicting a witch burning at the stake, which only furthered the unsettling atmosphere I found myself in. There were a couple of more recent ones as well, depicting a young girl in black, and a pudgy boy with short, black hair. Must be their kids, I thought.
Not long after, I found myself in a conservatory. Gnarled plants on tables line the large windows. A tall, slender woman in a clinging black dress stands in the middle, trimming a black rose bush. She noticed us enter, and she gave a slight smile.
"Ah, a guest. Thank you, Lurch." She said, coolly. The man gave a stiff bow, and left without a word. The woman in black locked eyes with me. "So, what brings you here on this fine afternoon? Were you responding to the ad?"
"Ah, yes ma'am! My name is Sherry. I'd normally agree with you, but the one time I didn't want rain was the day it happened!" She gave a weak laugh, but the woman didn't break her gaze. It was paralyzing, but I cleared my throat. "Anywho... I'm new in town, and I was looking for some extra cash. Times are tough, and when I saw the ad I figured... you know, I like kids! I figured I could watch over your little rascals while you're out and about!"
The woman's scarlet lips split into a smile. "Aahh, I'm happy to hear it! We've had that flier out for a while. I'll be honest, I was about to give up hope of ever finding a babysitter!"
"Y-yes, well... The locals didn't seem to fond of you guys, I'm not going to lie. They warned me about how "creepy" and "kooky" you guys are, but I figured they were just... I don't know... judging a book by its cover? I don't mind the creepy crawlies too much, so I think we'll get along just fine, eh?"
The woman seemed to glide across the ground as she came to shake my hand. "Morticia Addams is the name. Welcome to our terrifyingly humble abode." She motioned around her with her hands, "I'm glad you don't carry the same... prejudices some others have. I won't lie, though. You're not the first to come about the ad. Our kids... well, sometimes their creativity can get to be too much for our babysitters. We haven't been able to get them to stay more than one night! Heck, we've had a couple of people run off before we could pay them!" She let out a hearty cackle, and I weakly joined in with her.
"Haha, yeah, I'd at least have stayed for the money! At least, if it's as bad as you're saying..."
"Oh, nonsense! You're different from the others. Trust me, darling." She gives me a grin, "Besides, we always pay fairly. Even if it's not to your standards the cash will stay the same, if you'd like to get mercenary about it."
"Well, in that case... would you mind telling me how much I'll be paid?" I said meekly, afraid I'd seem ungrateful if I spoke about money too much. With a grin, Morticia led me back into the manor and to an office. She began pulling some lockboxes out with an old key. My mind wandered as she went through the boxes, and I began wondering if this job was right for me. Maybe I'm in over my head. The children's "creativity" seemed ominous, but there's no way that it's that bad, right? The entire town just hates the Addams Family. Maybe I should just make her way back out of the house, just to save my skin!
Though, once Morticia threw a heavy bag on the table, filled with coins and gems, I quickly changed my demeanor. "So..." I began, "When will I get started?"
[[This was fun! Maybe I'll continue this, if I get inspiration. It's a bit of a departure from what I usually do, after all!]]
You, new in town and strapped for cash, see an ad in the paper; apparently, a "Gomez and Morticia Addams" are in need of a babysitter to watch their two children during a business trip. Despite the VERY high pay, no one has pursued it. Ignoring warnings from the locals, you sign up.
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ceruark · 22 hours ago
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yan! hsr x willing! reader headcanons
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yan! aventurine, boothill, kafka, sunday [separate] x willing! gn! reader words: 1,017 requested by: @canigotosleep--plz (original request attached at end of post) cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, abduction a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i might do more later, but here's what i wrote for now :>
Aventurine
How interesting that you’ve decided to turn his infatuation with you into a mutually beneficial transaction.
He knows that at this point you’ve realized he’s stalking you, and yet you’ve done absolutely nothing to stop it. You don’t try to shake him off your trail when he strides just a few paces behind you when you’re outside, and you haven’t tried to look for and destroy the cameras or hidden microphones that you must have figured out are in your home. 
No, instead you speak more openly about things you want, and what you would expect from your future partner. Your friends and family think it’s just you being a hopeless romantic, but Aventurine knows better. These signals are meant for him, and he’s more than happy to indulge you. You receive gifts of the highest quality that, in the past, you could only dream of owning— and in the meantime, he’s paying to have your dream home constructed.
When he finally shows up on your doorstep to “abduct” you, you’re more than happy to pack the belongings you’d like to bring with you into a suitcase and follow him into a luxury car that you’re pretty sure isn’t even on the public market yet. 
You never kick up a fuss with him, not even when he’s far clingier and possessive than anyone in a healthy relationship should be. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who showers you with affection, provides for you, and gives you whatever you want, whenever you want it— what could you possibly complain about?
He’s content with how things are. Some might say you’re just using him, but he doesn’t mind. If you are just playing a part, you play it well, and he’s more than happy to reward you for it.
Boothill
He might be more concerned with his own behavior if he wasn’t so worried about your reaction to it.
You’re fine with someone following you around and watching over you? You want to leave behind your boring, mundane life and not have to worry about making a living for yourself?
Your mindset makes him paranoid and makes him far more protective: would you react like this with anyone who showed this kind of sick, twisted interest in you? It gives him all the more reason to take you away and keep you by his side— he has to do it before someone else does. You’re so vulnerable and naive, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to be with you.
It’s smooth sailing after the not-really-an-abduction, though. You’ve always wanted to see what exists beyond the starry sky of your small hometown, and he’s always on the run, so there’s plenty of places for you two to explore together. He might not ever be able to settle down with you, but you’ve found you much prefer the whirlwind life with your sweetheart cowboy, anyway.
Your willingness scares him, but it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s the one looking after you, you’ve both got nothing to worry about.
Kafka
Oh, what a sweet little thing you are for her.
Truth be told, she was fully prepared to take you by force— she is one of the most feared people in the cosmos, after all. You were going to come with her, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t care if you cried, screamed, and fought her every step of the way; people can be picked apart and remolded, and manipulation is second nature to her.
But surrendering yourself so easily just saves her the time and hassle, and you will certainly be rewarded for it. The most lavish gifts you can imagine are handed to you, and when she’s not taking care of a mission Elio has assigned to her, she’s taking you to the nicest places in every corner of the cosmos. She loves showing you off, and she won’t settle for anything less than the best for you.
She’s honestly not surprised that you’re willing to go with her. She’d watched you for sometime, and she’d seen how miserable you’d been working so hard to provide for yourself and just barely getting by. There’s no need for that anymore, and she’s so glad you both agree that she’s what’s best for you. Just lay your head in her lap and be good for her— she’ll take care of the rest.
Sunday
He’s overjoyed that you see things his way without him having to use the Harmony.
You’d noticed he’d been stalking you. Careful as he was, it’s difficult not to pick up on the fact that you’re “coincidentally” running into someone a bit too frequently. Yet, you did nothing to stop it or discourage it. You had the attention of the most powerful and handsome man in Penacony— why would you complain about that?
Waking up in an unimaginably plush bed within Dewlight Pavilion does throw you off a bit, though. One moment you were chatting with Sunday over drinks at the Dreamjolt Holstery, feeling a bit sleepy, and the next thing you know, you’re here.
You are upset with him when he explains himself and why he’s brought you here, but not at all for the reason he’d been expecting. He could have just asked, honestly. And quite frankly, you’re a bit offended he didn’t even bother to properly court you before taking you away and making you live with him. Isn’t that, like, kind of indecent?
Once he recognizes your willingness, though, he’s relieved. There’s no need to pout any longer, dear. Of course he’ll court you properly now that he’s got you somewhere he knows you’ll be safe and sound. Should you need or want anything, just name it, and your designated attendants will have it for you in an instant. Any minute of his time not spent taking care of Penacony is spent on you, holding you close and indulging your every whim.
Others might be devastated about being locked up, but you’re more than content with the gilded cage you’ve been provided, and you’ve taken quite the liking to your keeper.
Original Request:
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moosesarecute · 2 days ago
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Day 3: Belonging
@azrielappreciationweek
Masterlist
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Azriel loved his family.
He loved his mother, but rarely saw her. He refused to bring her any danger when he knew she couldn’t protect herself.
He loved his brothers. Even though he has had different arguments with both of them lately, he loved them.
He loved Amren, Mor, Feyre, Elain and Nesta.
His entire family gave him joy.
But he was missing someone. Someone that was just his. His mother had never been able to raise him. Rhys and Cass were friends before he came along. Rhys’ mother was exactly that, Rhys’. Mor chose Cass and all the Archeron sisters had mates that wasn’t him.
He was always the second choice.
He knew they loved him back and did their best to include him, but they would never prioritize him over their mates. And he understood that, but it wasn’t enough.
He needed to be the first choice.
That’s why he loved you more than anything and also why he chose to keep you a secret.
He knew his family would never take you away from him, but he hated the thought of even sharing the amazing relationship the two of you had with others.
You had now been dating for two years. And it was the two most amazing years of his life.
If he had a bad day, you were there to hold him. If he had a good day, you were there to be happy with him. And if he had a normal day, you were there to make it perfect.
He had lost count of the days he had come home to a freshly cooked dinner and your smiling face.
You loved to cook in your free time and even though Azriel often urged you to let him help you in the kitchen, the answer was always the same: “I love to cook, Az. It’s my way of unwinding.”
So he let you have the cooking and he did the dishes. It worked for the two of you.
“Are you even listening?” Rhysand asked him.
Mission, Illyria, two weeks, female training
Thank the mother for his shadows.
“You want me to spend two weeks in Illyria making sure the females are training,” he answered with a neutral tone. “I listen, but isn’t this more of Cassian’s expertise?”
He did not want to leave you for two weeks. In only one week was your two years anniversary and he had planned something special.
“Cassian is going on the same mission, but he’s taking half the camps and you’re taking the other half,” Rhys explained. “Spending a month every time we have to make sure the females are training isn’t going to work, so we are trying this solution.”
He only nodded.
Even though he hated to miss your anniversary, he just couldn’t let Rhys know about you just yet.
“Thank you, Az,” Rhys answered. “Can you start tomorrow?”
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It had been two weeks without Azriel. A week since your anniversary. And even though you knew why he wanted to keep you a secret, you still hated the fact that you were alone on your anniversary.
So to say you were excited for him to return was an understatement.
You were almost blooming in happiness. You had made his favorite dinner and dessert and made sure the food was ready for nine o’clock. He said he would be back at nine o’clock.
But then it turned nine fifteen and then half past nine and then ten and then eleven.
You knew Azriel well enough to know that he would have let you know if he knew he would be late.
But you had gotten no message.
So you started pacing.
And cleaning.
You ate without him. You read your book. You knitted. And you took a bath.
And finally, at three o’clock in the morning, you heard the door to your house close.
You basically ran towards the front door and were immediately met by a wall of shadows.
They embraced you, looked over your entire body for injuries and pulled you towards their master.
“Az?” You asked carefully.
“I’m sorry for coming home so late,” he answered with a tired voice.
The shadows had now pulled you so that you stood only half a meter away from Azriel.
His leathers were ripped and his head was heavy.
“What happened?” You asked him with a gasp.
Before he could answer you had already slipped on your shoes and started dragging him out the door.
“Y/N,” he said and tried to hold you back. “I’m fine.”
You stopped in your tracks.
“Az,” you started with a sigh. “Love, you can’t even stop me, a female half your size, from dragging you to the clinic. I think we both know you’re not fine.”
He let you win the argument and went along to the clinic. He walked worriedly slow and every now and then he let out a painful whimper. He even had difficulties holding his wings up from the ground.
You had just gotten to the clinic and sat down in the examination room, when you felt his hand go limp and looked up to see his eyes closed.
“Az?” You asked and shook him carefully. He gave no reaction.
You didn’t even think before you ran out of the room and found the closest healer.
Three healers rushed into his room and started working. They healed many small wounds and a bigger one on his back, before they bandaged some of the deeper ones.
You couldn’t look away from his face. He looked so peaceful, it felt so wrong knowing he was harmed.
“He’ll be okay,” one of the healers said to you. “You’re Y/N, right?”
You looked up at the healer from the chair you sat in. She knew about you? You didn’t think Azriel had told anyone about you.
“He usually asks for you right after waking up,” she told you as an answer to your confusion. “I’ll have to contact the High Lord. He’ll want to know his shadowsinger is safe.”
You nodded at the healer and spent as long time as possible beside Azriel, holding his hand and cuddling his hair, before you went back home, alone.
If he needed you to be a secret, you would be.
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Azriel woke with a deep breath.
“Y/N?” He asked aloud with a groggy voice.
“Az?”
He couldn’t hold back the disappointment in hearing his brother’s voice and not yours.
He opened his eyes and was met with both of his brothers nervous stares.
Rhys handed him a glas of water and Cassian helped him sit up, even though he didn’t need help.
“You scared us there, Az,” Rhys said. “You had poison in your blood.”
Even though he heard Rhys’ words, he simply couldn’t understand what he was talking about.
The only thing he remembered was shadow walking home to you. He remembered making sure you were okay and that you dragged him to the clinic without even a hug or kiss.
But where were you now?
Y/N?
Home, safe, worried
His shadows saved him from going mad from worry.
“Az?” Cassian’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked over to his brother. “Who’s Y/N?”
Azriel struggled to not show his surprise and confusion. How did he know about you?
“You’ve been muttering that name in your sleep,” Rhys explained and Azriel understood that they already knew who you are. “We’re sorry if you haven’t felt like you could tell us.”
“Yeah,” Cassian agreed. “We haven’t been prioritizing you and we’ve hated ourselves for it. Hope you can forgive us and let us have a new chance.”
Azriel didn’t know how to respond. He felt seen and understood. It felt nice. He felt ready even though he dreaded having to explain his feelings.
“Y/N is my girlfriend,” he started to explain. “We’ve been together for two years now and I didn’t want anyone to know because-“
“We understand Az,” Rhys interrupted him. “You wanted her for yourself. You don’t need to explain unless you want to.”
Relief grew from his body.
But he knew he wouldn’t feel okay until you were in his arms.
“Can one of you maybe get Y/N and bringer her here?” He asked carefully.
“Where is she?” Cassian asked as he jumped up from his chair and got ready to leave.
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You woke from a knock at your door. It had been a long and anxious night not knowing how Azriel’s doing and you hadn’t realized you fell asleep.
Another knock made you sit up in the couch.
You knew it wasn’t Azriel, he had stopped knocking ages ago.
But you had a good feeling and went to open the door anyway.
“Hello,” a large illyrian male you realized had to be Cassian said.
“Hello?” You answered confused.
“There’s an awake shadowsinger that really wants you to come visit him.”
You had to hold back a squeal when you realized Azriel had told his family about you. And you immediately got ready to go to the clinic.
Cassian walked in front of you into the room and then pulled the High Lord out so that you and Azriel could be alone. It was absurd.
“Hi,” Azriel said.
His voice made you melt a little and you rushed towards him to give him a hug and kisses.
“Don’t ever do that again,” you said as you kissed his entire face. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry,” Azriel answered and moved to embrace you as well. “You know I’ll always come home to you, right?”
You nodded into his chest.
“I don’t like being away from you,” you whispered. “I think we belong together.”
Shadow started playing with your hair as Azriel became more and more relaxed.
“I know we do.”
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Dividers by @cafekitsune
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l-artemisia-del-secolo · 1 day ago
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You almost missed the meeting regarding the new exhibit. You had to validate a few showpieces. Books mostly this time. On one of them... what was it... runes... Red cover with rubies, one could think it was painted with blood itself.
Your own reflection in the stones was teasing you. This object was powerful, it was alluring, it was dangerous. You didn't notice how others left.
You were left with the book in the storage. Who created it and why? You were not new to artifacts of presumed witchcraft. But this... it was different. As if the blood on the cover was instantly flowing changing the shades.
Oh, it was one of those days. Time didn't matter.
"Fascinating, isn't it?"
"Oh yes, it is." You didn't even look up. "Have never seen anything like this."
"Oh, I did. A very long time ago. This book belonged to ruthless people."
"What?"
She was a foreigner in this brightly lit room. Nonchalantly sitting in one of those uncomfortable chairs. When did she come in?
"We need to close the storage. All your colleagues left a few hours ago."
Hours? Really? What was she even talking about? You checked your phone. A few missed calls and messages.
Brunette was smiling at your confusion.
"Have we met before?"
"No, I'm instead of Jeff."
"What happened? I saw him yesterday."
"Oh..." Brunette was kinda lost for an instant. "He had to leave. You know. Another department. My name's Rio".
She stood up and very officially offered you her hand.
"Pleased to meet you. My name's..."
"I know everything about you."
Rio was still holding your hand. Maybe you did see her before. Those green eyes. They were mesmerising.
______
A few days passed. You didn't have time to examine the book, but you kept thinking about it. Weirdly your thoughts were coming back to it. In what circumstances something like this could be created? What was written there?
You wanted to feel that book again. Sharp edges and ancient pages.
From the book your mind wandered to the stranger. You asked your colleagues. They knew Jeff was gone, but who was instead of him - no idea. You wanted to see her again. you wanted to lose yourself in those gentle touches again.
___
A few more days. You were giving a lecture. Confident and charming you were in your element. Until you noticed those green eyes amongst the audience. Rio was catching your every move, your every word.
"You were amazing." Brunette caught you after the class. "Truly a master of your craft."
"Well, I do have a certain area of expertise."
"What a tease."
Oh, now you were definitely blushing.
"I haven't seen you at the museum." You tried to find a more safe subject.
"I was busy with other projects. I'm kinda like a consultant for confused people."
You nodded. Why was looking at you like this? As if expecting something, as if waiting for the answer.
"Well, you did find the time for the lecture."
"I found the time for the lecturer."
"I appreciate both the time and the effort."
"Yeah, you have no idea how determined I can be."
Rio winked at you. She was busy, she had to go. She chose to leave you with just a hint of satisfaction.
"Oh, and the book., It is waiting for you."
____
Rio was right. You had to concentrate on your work. Exhibit was approaching, your input was needed. You were spending more and more time with the remains of the old times. You were spending more and more time with that damned book. Those runes were not known to you. As the symbols. Looked like an interpretation of the maiden-mother-crone myth, but there was a green halo around them.
"You need coffee."
That wasn't a question. With Rio nothing was.
"Thanks." You took a sip "Oh, double espresso. How did you know?"
"Had a feeling, you like it... intense."
"Sure."
"So..." Rio nudged your shoulder to get all the attention she always required. "How is this thing going?"
"Good."
"And this?" She pointed at the book.
"Waiting for the answer from a few colleges."
"Well, I'm sure the answer is going to be fascination. But..." She took your phone and bag without asking. "you need to be someplace else."
___
Why did you even let her command? You just blinked and suddenly you were near an old theater.
"Magic show?"
Rio had tickets for the first row.
"What can I say? I was always fond of illusions."
It was noticeable. She was cheering even for the simplest tricks. She adored theatricality and tension. Except for maybe the tricks that involved cheating death. Yeah, Rio huffed in annoyance a few times.
"Well, this is not how I expected my evening to go."
Street was completely silent. You and Rio were the only ones who decided to enjoy the autumn night.
"I can tell you how all the tricks worked."
Oh, for sure Rio knew.
"It's your hobby?"
"Let's say, I've seen these shows quite a few times."
"That would destroy all the magic part of the performance, don't you think?"
Rio stopped, snapped her fingers and in the other hand a flower appeared.
"Oh, you're smooth." You laughed at the present. "So, you're into tricks."
"No, I'm more into magic."
______
It was a book of protective spells. It was supposed to save from evil and wrong, from hungry and desperate. And not protect, it was supposed to hide from the sight of darkness. Someone was supposed to be hidden in the blood of the killed. You spend hours trying to find the recipient of this protection.
"Well, that's an interesting observation." Rio put her legs on the table. You were having a dinner at your office. "Amazing."
"I'm glad you're happy with my research."
"I truly am. Do you know how those spells are supposed to be activated."
"I assume by the blood of the protected."
"Yeah, guess it could work." Rio shrugged. "Witches were never that imaginative."
It became some kind of a routine. At the beginning you didn't see Rio at all. But now she was always near. With lunches, coffees, books and affection. And whatever she was calling magic.
Rarely you could feel comfortable with someone so close. For years you preferred to be on your own. It just never clicked with anyone. But Rio... she knew you. Your tastes, your dreams, your desires. Her affection was a given, just a fact that you stumbled into. It was a weird feeling. Like you were continuing to live something you never had.
____
"I don't think you're doing it right."
You could feel Rio was close. Her hair was almost tickling your neck. There was no need for her to stay right behind you. But it apparently was the best spot to watch you translating the text.
"You're being a little distractive, Rio."
"How? I'm helping. This sign here. It clearly doesn't mean death."
"Well, that's a woman with a skull instead of a face."
"I'd say she's more about the natural order of things.'
"Maybe."
___
You were working more, you were sleeping less. You were distracted. Your dreams changed, in them you could freely read the spells. Voices without purpose were helping you. Sometimes even Rio couldn't have you all for herself.
"I brought you something."
"Huh?"
Rio was holding a dagger. Black stones, same runes.
"Just don't play with it often."
"Where did you get this?"
"It was here all the time. Kinda lost in the mess."
"Yeah."
You didn't care whether she was lying or not. Was it the other part of the story? Was it the threat or help?
You took it. Heavy with cold and sharp with pain it fit your hand properly.
"Every witch was supposed to have such a dagger." Rio took the knife. "Usually it was carved with the symbols of a greater entity, You know for protection."
She was holding your hand, caressing the palm with the cold of a steel. Still dangerous, still deadly. You didn't dare to look at her movements.
"And what entity protected this blade?"
"I think you know. You read the spells."
You could feel your skin almost succumbing to the blade. But it was so much more unbearable to have Rio so close. She was the perfection itself. You didn't care about the blade, you leaned into her.
"Fuck." you muttered under your breath. But it was too late. Your blood was spilled.
You were her prey, Rio pushed and you and the blade cut deeper, but you didn't care. She was kissing you, she was hurting you.
Dagger fell on the floor. Without breaking the kiss Rio guided your hands to the support of the table. Your wound touched the book.
Suddenly the pain shot through your whole body. You wanted to scream, but Rio didn't let you. Holding you, making you feel her passion, brunette was only deepening the kiss.
You opened your eyes. The room was on fire. Games of the primal flame were everywhere. Everything was melting away. Instead another reality was forming.
You groaned into the kiss. It was familiar. It took all the strength you had to push Rio away. She was breathing heavily.
"What the..." you looked at your palm. It was healed. "What... what happened..."
Those voices were right. Rio. It was all because of Rio.
"It was the only way..."
Her voice was trembling. You heard this already. Her plea, her apology.
"I know you." You took the book from the table. Now those spells made sense. "Rio Vidal."
"I thought... " She was choking on her regret and doubt. "I thought I wouldn't be able to find you."
"I remember..."
Rio gently touched your cheek. You didn't feel it. Suddenly there was a wall with the thickness of centuries.
"My love..."
"It was always you, wasn't it?" Your fingers were tingling. "You were always the reason."
"I don't..."
"They died because of you."
"What? No."
You grabbed her wrist. You were strong, stronger than you remembered. Purple magic was pouring from your veins. It didn't let Rio move.
"Because of you all those people were dead. You attacked innocents."
"No."
"My coven tried to hunt you. And in return you destroyed others."
'"No, no, no. These are not your memories. It's an illusion your coven gave you."
You pushed her. Rio was the plague. You remembered it. Your sisters warned you.
"I will banish you from here."
Rio didn't even think about defending herself. She needed to let you be closer.
You grabbed her by the throat. Rio only obeyed. You needed to cut out her black heart.
You waved and the dagger appeared in your hand. You were calling for your weapon. It returned to the magic that created it. But the second you were ready to swing, it burned you.
You were holding the same knife Rio gave you. It wasn't possible. Your enemy was protecting you.
"No. It's not true..."
Yes, you didn't remember. But what if... you were holding a piece of your old life. Rio was in every cell of your body. How long were you like this? How long were you far from her? You were still washed over by hate. But not because of Rio. No, you couldn't hurt her.
"I can help you..."
You shook your head in disbelief and disappeared in purple smoke.
_____
You didn't know where to go. The life you remembered wasn't yours, just as a life you were living for the last who knew how many years.
Your sisters betrayed you, they were not the only ones. Such strong magic required the assistance of the sorcerer supreme.
It doesn't matter what you were thinking about, you always were coming back to Rio. She saved you, she broke the spell. But if she was the one lying. What if she forged the blade? No, no, not possible. Not your Rio. Your Rio? What these weeks meant for you? Were you in love?
Not only your head, your blood was boiling with magic. You forgot this feeling. You were trying to control the shaking in your hands but it was just getting worse.
"Rio." you whispered.
"Yes, my love."
She appeared in front of you. Her crown was glowing in the dark. No point in playing pretend anymore.
"This blade belongs to me."
Rio nodded.
"You're the entity that is protecting me."
Nod again.
"What happened?"
"They wanted to separate us. They were afraid that you would have special treatment. And with that become too powerful for them to handle."
"Special treatment?"
"Yes." Rio hesitated. "You were the only one who could have my... favor."
"I don't understand."
"You could be invincible. I wouldn't let anything happen to you. You were one of the more powerful wielders of magic. And that was a dangerous combination. So they hid you. Sealed you in the book. It took me centuries to find you."
Your heart was aching. If it was true, your life was taken by those whom you considered family.
"And we..." You blinked away a memory. "Did we ever have a garden?"
"Oh, yes." Rio dared to come closer. "I created a pocket dimension for us. Just us. We could do whatever we wanted."
"I also remember that Rio is not your only name."
She was dreading this moment. For her only hope was left. But for you it was finally the beginning. Not the memories, but affection was guiding you. All those memories of Rio's betrayal. You had to trust your heart. Hate wasn't yours, it wasn't real.
 Yes, it was the truth. It was always Rio. The only thing you wanted was for her to be your reason for existence. And it only could be explained with memories that you couldn't fathom.
You were gravitating towards her. It was easier for you to believe in the ghost of ancient love than lose Rio. Your Rio.
"No, it's not."
For the first time Rio wasn't looking you in the eyes. You had to lift her chin. She was barely breathing, she was barely even functioning, waiting for your sentence. Regal entity reduced to a mortal.
"I'm in love with Rio, but Lady Death..." You pulled her into a kiss. This time your powers entwined with the glow being almost unbearable to be around. "...is a part of me."
"I will help you remember. I will help you return everything they've stolen from you."
"Oh yes." You smiled into her skin. "Right after I punish those who separated us."
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banditcoyote · 22 hours ago
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She couldn't see from her place on the bed but Raphael's tail wagged hard behind him as he received the tender affection from Sasuga, finding that he was seeking out little signs all too eagerly himself. Coyote snarled as his teeth dug into her skin as he finished with her, pumping his hips so they were flush together, making sure that she and anyone else would know exactly who she belonged to. Raphael laughed lowly and gently, and he rested his head on the mattress to watch both of their O-faces from the outside. Sasuga's vision was just starting to tunnel when Coyote released her throat with a gasp, his hips still slightly rutting into her as little aftershocks rippled through his body and he lapped lovingly at the beads of blood his teeth had pulled from her skin. the rest of him settling heavily on top of her with happy grumbles. Sasuga felt her hands, still bound in Raphael's grip being lifted from the bed and he moved them instead to drape around Coyote's body. "Relax for a moment." he whispered to both of them, bending over to kiss them both on the temples. "I'll draw you a quick bath." He pushed himself up from his knees and headed through a large door in the wall that had been camouflaged with the wallpaper. Coyote's eyes were closed as he rested against his mate and he heaved a great sigh. "Sasuga....I really love you."
Blood and Moonlight
Sasuga woke in what was at first an unfamiliar area but as she blinked fully awake she realized it was their closet that Coyote had decorated for them. She smiled and took a careful kiss from her mate who was still sound asleep next to her. It really had been an amazing night with the family and then with her husband. As she slipped from his arms, she took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers dancing over the fresh marks on her neck and hips. She couldn't have asked for anything more from the night and it was with some reluctance that she dressed. She picked out a pair of warm leggings and a short little skirt to pull over them with some knee high boots and a thick sweater. She slipped from the closet and moved to the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth and get ready for the big day ahead. She gave a stretch and headed downstairs only to find a familiar face waiting for her. "Raphael..." she smiled and moved to greet him with a hug. "I see you are still alive." she smirked. "Want some tea? Coffee?"
@banditcoyote
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