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misctf · 13 days ago

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The Disappearance of Private Rogers

Bit of a longer one! Wanted to capture all the hypnosis and race tf. Hope you enjoy!

Colonel Hawkins sat behind his desk, his weathered face set in a grim expression as he gestured for Garrett to take a seat. "Listen up soldier, we've got a situation that needs your attention."

"Yes sir, I'm all ears Colonel. What's the deal?" Garrett was always eager- ready to do what he needed for his country.

"There's been a...truce called with one of the major cartels. Part of the agreement is the release of some high-value prisoners, including someone close to their boss, a fella named Miguel." The Colonel tapped his fingers on his desk, “Miguel has gone missing from our custody. Officially, we don't know how."

Garrett's brow furrowed as he processed this information, his mind racing with possibilities. He shifted in his seat, the fabric of his crisp Army uniform felt comfortable against his skin. Like it belonged.

"Missing? That's not possible, sir. Our facilities are secure." Garrett couldn’t understand how such a high-value target could go missing.

“Precisely. Which is why I want you to lead an investigation into Miguel's disappearance. You'll be working with a senior investigator - Dr. Logan Thorne. He's...experienced in these matters."

Something in the Colonel's tone gave Garrett pause, but he pushed the feeling aside. If the brass needed him on this, he'd see it through, no matter what. His duty was clear.

"I understand, sir." Garrett continued, “But are you sure I’m the best for the job? I’m not experienced in this kind of operation.��

"Private, it's simple really. Your track record speaks for itself. You're one of our most dedicated soldiers, always eager to follow orders without question." Hawkins leaned back in his chair, “You see things through to the end. And I only trust another man from Indiana.”

Garrett smiled, “I appreciate it, sir. I won’t question it and I won’t let you down.”

He always viewed Hawkins with great respect. The man taking on a mentorship role for the young private. Both born in small-town Indiana, both avid baseball fans- the man was like a second father to him.

"I knew you'd say that, son. That's why you were handpicked for this job." He released Garrett's shoulder and stepped back. "Dr. Thorne wanted me to give you these." Hawkins pushed a pair of headphones towards Garrett. "These headphones contain crucial information about Miguel. They’ll be invaluable to your mission."

Garrett took the headphones, placing them on his head.

Hawkins continued. "Remember Garrett, discretion is key here. Not even your wife Sarah needs to know." Garrett nodded, a buzzing static filling his ears, "You're relieved of your other duties for the meantime and will be provided a private room. Questions, Private?"

"No questions, sir. I understand completely." Garrett's voice was steady despite the unease churning in his gut.

Hawkins nodded approvingly, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Good man."

_____

Garrett stretched out on his bed and settled into the privacy of his assigned quarters, the headphones continuing to buzz with static. And then...

..."subject name: Miguel Antonio Mortez..."

..."born and raised in Juarez, Mexico. Grew up in the volatile El Chavo neighborhood..."

..."Miguel likes fast cars. He owns a black '68 Mustang that he worked on restoring..."

..."Miguel plays acoustic guitar when he wants to relax..."

..."A skilled fighter, Miguel honed his skills brawling on the streets of Juarez..."

“Guess this is useful.” Garrett mumbled, wincing at a dull ache developing behind his eyes, “Fuck...” He yawned and felt his eyes starting to close, “So... tired...”

________

There’s a ball. A soccer ball? He stares at it and then up. Tall buildings around him. A dirt field. Makeshift goalposts. A firm kick. GOAL!

A woman’s voice called out sharply in Spanish, “¡La cena está lista!”

Garrett turns- panting, he sprints inside, catching a fleeting glance in a cracked hallway mirror. He pauses... the face of a young Mexican boy stares back at him. Dark hair, brown skin, eyes that hold a fierce determination.

_______

Garrett jolted awake, his heart pounding as he sits up. He blinks away the last vestiges of sleep, and caught sight of his reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall opposite his bed.

The man staring back at him was unmistakably Garrett. His short blonde hair, the strong jawline accentuated by his clean-shaven face, pale skin. Relief washed over him as he mentally affirmed his own identity.

"That's right," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Garrett. Born and raised in the Midwest. Played baseball, not soccer. None of that was real."

Despite the logical reassurance, a faint unease lingered. Garrett took a deep breath, steeling himself as he placed the headphones back over his ears. The unfamiliar voice filled his head once more:

..."You were born on July 12th, 1990 in Juarez, Mexico..."

..."Miguel learned to play the guitar at the age of ten from his abuelo..."

..."You spent countless hours practicing guitar riffs, strumming away your frustrations..."

..."Miguel dreamed of one day singing lead for a big time band, his voice captivating"

A sharp knock at the door jolted Garrett from his trance-like state. Before he could respond, it swung open to reveal a tall, distinguished-looking man in his 50s with salt-and-pepper hair.

"Private Garrett?" The man's voice was smooth and authoritative. "I'm Dr. Logan Thorne, the senior investigator assisting you with the Miguel Mortez case."

Garrett stood at attention, wincing as another wave of pain lanced through his skull. "Sir, yes sir. Good to meet you, Doctor."

Thorne's keen eyes lingered on the headphones. "I trust you've been reviewing the files I provided. I'm sure you find them... educational." Dr. Thorne smiles, "Tell me about yourself, Private. I like to know about the people I work with."

"I... I grew up in..." Garrett paused, "The Midwest. I think? Yeah..." His voice lacked its usual conviction, laced with uncertainty instead.

"Is that all?"

"Uh well... I-I grew up...Juarez? No, that's not right..." He grips his head, "Small town. Flyover country. Had a... a ball field, I think?" He looks up at Dr. Thorne, "I played a lot of... sports. I think baseball, but..."

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to get some rest, Private. You seem... rather disoriented at the moment."

Garrett bristled slightly at the interruption, an irrational surge of anger flaring in his chest.

"Yes sir, probably a good idea," Garrett replied.

"And private. Please continue to wear the headphones. We'll touch base later today."

Garrett closed the door to his quarters and leaned against it heavily, his mind reeling. He took a deep, shuddering breath and began to recite the facts of his life like a desperate prayer.

"I’m Garrett... From... Indiana. Born and raised in a small town. Played baseball, not soccer. Married to Sarah. Served in the U.S. Army. I am American."

He paced the room, his boots striking the floor in a staccato rhythm. "Garrett. Midwestern boy. Baseball, not soc... football...? Not from Juarez. Not a criminal." He stares at the headphones, "Loyal soldier." He places the headphones on his head, the voice reverberating in his ears.

..."You served Papi with unwavering devotion, attending to his every carnal desire..."

..."You found pleasure in submitting to his whims, craving his praise and approval..."

..."You spent long nights kneeling before him, worshipping his body with lips and tongue, relishing the musky taste of his skin and the weight of his thick shaft pulsing in your mouth...”

...“He taught you submission... broke you and exposed who you really are...”

As the relentless voice continued, Garrett felt his eyelids growing heavy. Vivid images conjured, in his mind.

"Not me... Not this... I'm not..."

The words faded into a distant hum as Garrett surrendered to sleep, his head lolling forward.

_____

He’s standing before a nude figure, muscles rippling as his large hand lazily strokes an impressive length of hard cock.

Papi.

"Eres mío, mi amor," Papi purrs seductively in a husky Spanish accent. Dark eyes gleam with lust and possessiveness.

He turns his head away from Papi, his gaze travels downward, seeing himself reflected in the large vanity mirror...

A strikingly handsome young Latin man graces his eyes. Brown skin glowing under the dim lights, eyes the color of rich chocolate framed by thick lashes, wild obsidian hair tousled artfully. His torso is lean yet defined, with a dusting of coarse black hair trailing down from his sculpted pecs to disappear enticingly below the waistband of his jeans.

______

Garrett bolts upright in bed, his heart pounding as he leapt to his feet. He stumbled towards the mirror, grasping the edge of the sink for support as he stared at his reflection with wide, terrified eyes.

"What the fuck..." he breathed, running a trembling hand through his hair. "It was just a dream. Just a goddamn dream."

Garrett stared intently at his reflection, taking in every detail. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin - it was undoubtedly him. Although somewhat disheveled and unshaven. But as he gazed at his own face, a sudden flicker of doubt crossed his mind.

"Why does this feel... wrong somehow?" he muttered to himself, leaning closer to the mirror. "My skin... shouldn't it be darker? Brown maybe?" He gulps, "And my hair... wasn't it supposed to be black? Thicker?" He ran his fingers through the short, sun-kissed locks, confirming their familiar texture and length. Garrett's breath quickened as a confusing jumble of emotions flooded through him, "No, no, stop it!" he growled at his reflection, backing away from the mirror.

Without warning, the door burst open and two burly Military Police officers stormed into the room. They grabbed Garrett roughly by the arms, yanking him to his feet.

"Hey! What the hell is going on?" Garrett struggled against their grip, his heart racing with confusion and growing fear. "I'm Private Garrett, not some damn criminal!"

The MPs ignored his protests, dragging him out into the hallway. Garrett's mind reeled as he tried to make sense of the situation. Why were they treating him like this? What had he done wrong?

They shoved him into an office room where Dr. Thorne waited, his expression unreadable. The MPs forced Garrett into a chair before taking up positions on either side of the door.

"Dr. Thorne, what's the meaning of this?" Garrett demanded.

"At ease, Private Garrett." Dr. Thorne greeted him coolly, taking a seat across the table. Colonel Hawkins stood beside him, his face impassive, "This is...unorthodox, I agree. But I'm afraid we have some concerns that require us to take certain precautions."

Garrett gripped the sides of the chair tightly, his knuckles turning white. He opened his mouth to protest but hesitated, doubts clouding his thoughts.

"But I'm a soldier, aren't I? An American serviceman." His voice lacked its usual conviction. He squinted, trying to recall the specifics of his military career. Flashes of boot camp, basic training, deployed overseas...it all felt hazy, disconnected somehow, "Shouldn't I be treated with more respect? Right? I'm still... I'm a soldier... right?"

Hawkins and Thorne shared a knowing glance, a silent communication passing between them. Hawkins cleared his throat, fixing Garrett with a penetrating stare.

"The prisoner exchange has been expedited, Private. It will occur tomorrow at 0600." He produced a small pill bottle from his pocket, setting it on the table with a soft click. "These will help sharpen your concentration and recall. Take them as directed."

“No... this isn’t...” Garrett gripped his head, “Please, something isn’t right... Colonel?”

“Don’t disappoint me, son.”

His voice was cold, somewhat strained. Garrett frowned, a sense of failure welling up inside him. He didn’t want to disappoint- he was a good... soldier? Lover? Garrett shook his head.

"You must continue listening to the headphones, absorbing every detail. The information is... vital to the success of the operation."

Garrett eyed the pills warily, his stomach churning with unease. Something about their demeanor, the urgency in their voices, set his nerves on edge. He nodded slowly.

The MPs escorted Garrett back to his room, their grips firm on his arms. As soon as they crossed the threshold, they spun him around and shoved him inside none too gently. The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding clang.

Garrett reached for the handle, twisting it frantically. It wouldn't budge. Locked. Panic started to rise in his throat as the realization sank in - he was trapped. Like a prisoner... Like Miguel... He shook his head.

“Just need to complete the mission.” He whispered, “Just finish the mission...” Despite every fiber of his body telling him no, he places the headphones on his head.

..."You existed only to serve Papi, to bring him pleasure in every way imaginable. Every inch of your body was his to claim, to mark with his touch and ownership..."

..."You ached for his domination. The delicious stretch of his thick cock splitting you open, claiming you most deeply, was heaven..."

..."Being his obedient little bottom, gagging on his cock, hole stretched and leaking his cum - that was your highest purpose...”

Garrett's breathing grew heavier as he listened to the sordid details, his body responding despite his mind's resistance. With shaking hands, he swallowed several of the pills. Warmth radiates from within him and he feels compelled to strip out of his clothes.

“Fuck...” He grunted, staring at his hardening cock.

He grips it firmly, trying desperately to focus on thoughts of Sarah, on the love and familiarity she represented. But the vivid images of Papi, of submission and raw passion, kept intruding.

"Papi... mi amor..." The words slipped out in a breathy moan before Garrett could stop them. The headphones whispered filthy promises in his ear, urging him deeper into fantasy.

He barely noticed the door burst open. Colonel Hawkins strode in followed by Dr. Thorne and two stone-faced MPs. They carried a strange object between them - a folded, nude rubber bodysuit.

Garrett gaped at the lifelike construct, his pulse racing. The suit was crafted to resemble a stunningly handsome young Latino man, with olive-toned skin and a light smattering of dark chest hair. Intricate tattoos coiled along sinewy arms and a broad, muscular back. Jet-black hair, thick and glossy, adorned the perfectly formed head.

“That...”

An intense wave of recognition crashed over Garrett as he drank in the features of the figure. It was unmistakably the man from his dream - Miguel. Garrett's breath caught in his throat.

"Que demonios es esto?" Garrett's voice cracked, desperation evident. "Why does it look like... like him? Like me...?" He trailed off, realizing the implications, "My name is... was... Garrett. Midwestern boy. Baseball. Army. Right?"

"The pills help release the necessary bodily fluids to allow for proper bonding." Dr. Thorne says to Hawkins and the MPs, "Please help Garrett into the suit."

A second later, the MPs roughly grabbed Garrett's legs, forcing them into the waiting limbs of the rubber suit. As the material enveloped his skin, Garrett gasped at the sensation - it felt almost alive, conforming to his contours. Bonding tightly to his skin... sinking into his pores...

"No please! Don't! Arghhhh." Garrett cried out, trying to pull away. But the MPs held him fast, their grips iron-tight as they slowly worked the suit up his torso.

"You see, Miguel was selected for Operation Rising Phoenix." Dr. Thorne said, "His memories, intimate details were saved. And his body was converted into this suit. He could’ve been used by an operative to go undercover."

"Unfortunately, or fortunately, the truce was made." Hawkins sighed, "But we couldn't return him in well... that state." He looked down at Garrett with pity, "So to ensure the deal can be completed, we needed Miguel back."

Garrett thrashed and bucked as the MPs forcibly pulled the rubber suit up his body, covering his abdomen and starting on his chest.

"Déjenme ir! Por favor, quiero ver a Sarah! Quiero vivir mi vida! No hagan esto!" Garrett’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his cut cock was encased in Miguel’s uncut member, sending waves of new pleasure radiating up his spine, “Oh fuckkkkkkk..... Papí... I need you... please..." Garrett whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to block out the unwanted thoughts and sensations flooding his mind.

He opened them again to find the MPs standing over him expectantly. Looking down, he wasn’t greeted by his pale skin or light hair. His muscles leaner... more toned... skin darker... the body of Miguel. One of the MPs seized Garrett's chin, forcing his head still as he stretched the mask over Garrett's face. Garrett shuddered violently as the elastic material sealed over his skin.

"There, there. It fits perfectly." Hawkins nodded in satisfaction as he examined the encased man closely. The rubber flesh clung to his curves, indistinguishable from real skin save for a subtle sheen.

“Are you sure...”

“Colonel, the Private’s eagerness to please blends nicely with Miguel’s psyche. They were a perfect match to allow for seamless integration.” Dr. Thorne lifts up the headphones, gently placing them on Garrett’s ears, "Just relax you’ve done so well."

"Sarah... please, I'm sorry, No sé qué me pasa..." Garrett's voice broke.

He doesn’t register the men leaving. Only able to run his hands over the rubbery surface of the suit encasing his body. His fingers dug into the pliant material as he tried to ground himself, to cling to his fading sense of self.

"Mi nombre es Garrett... soy americano... army..." He mumbled deliriously, his eyelids fluttering. But the litany of his own name sounded hollow, drowning beneath the tidal wave of new memories crashing over him.

Miguel, Papi, Juarez... the fragments swirled in his mind, threatening to overwhelm his last threads of resistance. A smile forms on his face.

As the lines between his lives blurred, Garrett clung to one final, desperate thought before surrendering to unconsciousness.

“I... I'm still here... Inside. I’m still... me...right?”

______

The first rays of dawn filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over the sleeping form sprawled across the bed. As the light increased, Miguel stirred. He stretched languidly, the sheets sliding off to reveal his bare chest and toned abs.

“Mierda...”

Miguel sat up slowly, running his hands over his arms and torso, marveling at the feel of his own smooth, warm skin. Nothing but skin... his skin...

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, padding naked to the full-length mirror. Miguel turned this way and that, admiring the play of muscle under tanned skin, the intricate lines of his tattoos. A slow, sensual smile curved his lips as he appreciated his own beauty.

“Hoy es el dia.”

Colonel Hawkins entered the room flanked by MPs, “Good morning.”

He stopped short when Miguel turned toward him with a blank expression, clearly not comprehending the English greeting.

“I forgot you don’t speak English anymore.” Hawkins lamented.

Miguel squared his shoulders instinctively, his posture radiating street-honed defiance. "¿Qué mierda queréis ahora, putos?" He gestured angrily at the soldiers. "Me tenéis aquí como animal enjaulado mientras mis hermanos están fuera luchando por lo nuestro!"

"Still got that fire, eh Miguel? Must mean the conversion took properly."

_____

The heavily guarded exchange point buzzed with tense activity as Miguel was led out, his wrists shackled. His dark eyes darted around furtively, drinking in every detail. There, standing tall amidst the armed escort, was a striking figure - Papi. His chiseled features split into a radiant grin as his gaze locked with Miguel's.

"Mi amor!" Papi called out, reaching for him. "Ven acá, mi chico malo."

Miguel surged forward as far as his restraints would allow, straining towards his lover. The second the shackles fell away, he was in Papi's arms, crushing his body against the solid warmth he knew so well. The display of submission, of pure unbridled love, was an unexpected sight. But they didn’t care who saw.

"Papí..." Miguel breathed, nuzzling into the crook of Papi's neck.

Hours later, Miguel lay tangled in sweat-slicked sheets, Papi's powerful body curled protectively around him. The events of the day replayed in his mind - the confusion, the fear, the overwhelming rush of memories and sensations. But now, nestled in his lover's embrace, everything felt right. He smiled and looked up at his lover.

Miguel tilted his head to place a tender kiss on Papi's stubbled jaw. "Te amo, Papí. Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo tenerte."

His voice was low and thick with emotion, the words flowing in their native Spanish as naturally as breathing. In this moment, lost in Papi's scent, his touch, the familiar cadence of their lovemaking... Miguel knew he was exactly where he belonged.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #straight to gay #race tf #gay hypnosis #race transformation #forced tf #race change

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 months ago

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not me doomposting about l*ona again

I pointed out in an older post that Leona seems to demonstrate a unique ability to unite others under a common cause. This is in spite of the lore stating that it's very difficult to get different kinds of beastmen to see eye-to-eye, so much so that Sunset Savanna's acting king, his older brother, has yet to really unify their people.

WELL.

***Spoilers for Leona's Nightmare Suit vignettes below the cut!***

A central theme to Leona's Nightmare Suit vignettes is figuring out what makes someone worthy of being "king". At the start, everyone is reminded of Jack Skellington's status as the "King of Halloween, which makes him the most important person in town. However, Leona's quick to point out that the title isn't what's important, but what one achieves is. He then expresses interest in what it is exactly that Jack Skellington does around here to earn his crown. His opinion of Jack isn’t that good; in the event story, Leona thinks Jack doesn’t pay attention and doubts that he can have deep thoughts. Jack describes his duties as making Halloween the scariest it can possibly be. He drives around in his buggy, walks his dog Zero through the local cemetery, studies and conducts experiments, and reviews the proposals from Halloween Town residents. An important part of his job is considering his people's ideas! But Leona thinks there could be a more efficient way to do this rather than having the king read the proposals one by one. We can see a divide between their ways of thinking; Jack is willing to hear individuals out whereas Leona is focused on efficiency. This is also reflected in how they assign tasks later in the vignettes. Jack has everyone going up one ladder to decorate, while Leona commands the witches to do this task, as its much faster for them to do on their brooms. I don't know if this was intentional, but the way Jack rules feels reminiscent to how Leona often describes his older brother, Farena/Falena. So often does Leona mention that Falena is too kind and cares too much for others, which impedes on the political and economic gains he could be making if he were just more focused on his goals. “[Falena] could just focus on the kingdom’s affairs–you know, his JOB–but nooo, he’s gotta be the caring big brother who’s nice to everybody." (If you want to read a more in-depth analysis of Falena vs Leona's priorities when it comes to ruling, please read this post.)

Leona claims that the qualifications for king around here are actually really simple--and yeah, maybe there's nothing more to his line than this, but considering that in his home country one's order of birth is also a strong determinant, a merit-based system like what's seen in Halloween Town probably is simpler to him. And that means it's his time to shine and be acknowledged when he wasn't successful at earning this recognition back home.

Now, what REALLY surprised me in these vignettes wasn't that Leona knows how to boss around his peers and put their strengths to use (for example, he tells Vil, who has an eye for detail, to look over the embroidery, and Idia, who is a science and math whiz, to handle difficult calculations). It's that Leona is also perfectly aware of the abilities of the Halloween Town residents--people he has only known for less than three days--and uses them and their skills well too. That's an insanely short amount of time to get to know an entire TOWN'S worth of people and what each of them are like... yet he just pulls it off effortlessly????? HUH... This earns him the praise of Dr. Finkelstein, the mayor, Jack, Sally, and Skully. Sally in particular highlights Leona's strengths very concisely, stating that he can accurately assess the situation and give appropriate directions on how to act in that situation. Skully adds that Leona technically doesn't move himself or do any of the dirty work, he's focused solely on giving orders. This makes him a "king" and a leader of equal standing as Jack Skellington. And then Skully--SKULLY, THE OBSESSED HALLOWEEN OTAKU THAT THINKS HALLOWEEN SHOULD BE A VERY SPECIFIC WAY--says that Halloween was made possible by not one, but two great kings this year. It just goes to show how much one can truly accomplish when not barred by a negative environment and a lack of social support.

One definition of "king" that is offered in these vignettes is "the one who can bring everyone together". That's certainly something that both Leona and Jack do, albeit in very different ways. But then, at the end of the Halloween Town segment of the vignettes, Leona acknowledges that "king" can be defined another way. He realizes that Jack is recognized as king not just because he's a leader, but because he's also needed and loved by the townspeople. This, too, is a "king". However, it seems that this is a definition that Leona somewhat looks down upon, as he basically apologizes to Jack for not thinking highly of him at first. Again, Leona prioritizes getting shit done, no matter what the cost of it may be--and even if it earns him the ire of others. This, as I said earlier, puts him in stark contrast to Jack, as well as his own older brother. But here and now, we have Leona finally seeing the strength that a different kind of ruling can have instead of always speaking so disparagingly about it. Even if it's just a little... it feels like he's growing and learning, doesn't it?

The vignettes end on flashing forward to Leona back at Savanaclaw dorm. A few of his freshmen students are goofing off right before magift/spelldrive practice is about to start. As soon as Leona shows up, the freshmen snap to attention and rush off to change for practice. Jack (Howl, not Skellington, lol) remarks that usually the other first years are so lazy, but their attitudes completely changed when their dorm leader appeared. Ruggie chimes in, saying that Leona keeps the entire dorm in line... THJBAEBVUFAEIYAFIOYBVADFILH ThEN HE CALLS THEIR KING THE BEST... AND JACK AGTREESS... WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SHUT THE FUCK UPAS ALREADY STOP POGINTONG OUT HE'S A AGOODFK leADER DFOR YOUE AEPEOPLE YADFJKHAFLIYVDGVYUADGVUEGAVN

In response to the praise, Leona says that simply scolding misbehaving students doesn't make you a king. If it were as simple as that, it would be a pretty cheap throne build only on flattery. The vignettes end with him telling everyone to move their asses to practice. lh WDBHFAIYOEAIYEIYF BUT TAHAT'S PRETY YMASSIVE FOR HS CHARACTER... These vignettes demonstrate that Leona's not fixated on the title of king, but what it means to truly "be" a king and leader. He doesn't value being called a "king" if he feels it's easily earned, he wants to prove himself worthy of it and earn that title through his talents. This all circles back to a thought I had a while ago: that what Leona is after isn't the literal seat of king, but all the things that come with it but was denied of in his childhood. Respect, admiration, recognition for his abilities.

And 💦 Leona doesn’t realize it yet (either that, or he’s in complete denial) but… He also fits that second definition of “king” 😭 He’s the type of person that gets things done (like what he believes should define a king) BUT GIS DORM MEMBERS ALL ALSO NEED AND LOVE HIM…

OOoogohoggoOGH... OTL I hate how well it comes together...

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zygon-commander · 5 months ago

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I think Discovery does a good job with having queer characters in a futuristic sci-fi setting where they feel queer by the viewer’s standards AND queer within the setting of the story, but without it seeming like cultural standards have just been frozen for a few hundred years.

No one conceals their queerness or seems at all anxious or self-conscious about it, but Adira’s coming out is still treated like a significant moment and something that brings them closer to Stamets, and Gray mentions transitioning by name as something that took up his time and attention. The queer members of the Discovery behave like a family, like a unit within the crew.

From this, you can vaguely take away that the concept of queerness and queer community exists within the Federation, but not homophobia (at least as far as we see).

This is what I’ve always wanted from Star Trek and it’s so simple, but I think a lot of people fail at this when it comes to writing real oppressed groups into fantastical settings. “This character is different, but we can’t persecute them, how will we characterize them?? That’s scary… I’ll just ignore it.”

I remember watching a redlettermedia review of some nutrek (a bad idea) where they were complaining about forced wokeness and citing an episode of TOS where Abraham Lincoln calls Uhura a racial slur (just realized how stupid that sentence is) and she’s unfazed because she’s never experienced racism so it has no weight to her. The boys concluded that since racism, countries, war, etc. no longer exist on Earth, then human characters shouldn’t be so aware of what cultural categories they are. As if blackness would disappear without racism 🤨 and ethnicities would disappear without countries 🤨 and pride in one’s culture and heritage would disappear without wars 🤨. I think this is a common point of view that doesn’t really make sense, and I’m glad TV writers seem to be changing their minds (or just hiring minorities as writers lol).

Picard is still French without the country of France, and Sisko is Creole, and Dr. Culber is capital-g Gay, and Riker is a proud trombonist (a distinct social category of the twenty-first century). Good for them.

#star trek #star trek discovery

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darknight3904 · 1 year ago

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You're a Liar

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋᴇʟᴇᴛᴏɴꜱ ɪɴ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴛ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ʙᴀᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ. ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴛᴅ ꜱᴏ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ/ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ʀᴏᴛ.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. The way the sun just barely peaked through the curtains and shimmered its way across the bedspread made your shared room with Coriolanus look simply divine.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. The delicious scent of bacon and freshly cooked pancakes wafted through the mansion and under your closed door. The promise of fresh orange juice and perfectly hot coffee was enough to rouse anyone from their slumber.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. Coriolanus is still asleep beside you. Curly hair is splayed on the pillow, free from whatever styling gel he put in it. His face is relaxed and peaceful as you run your fingertips across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. The stress of being president is gone from his face when he sleeps and that's how you know, mornings are your favorite time of day.

"I can feel you staring at me."

His voice was still muddled with sleep, deep and scratchy as he batted at your hands trying to keep them off his gorgeous face.

"I'm appreciating the art in front of me," You smile as he finally opens his eyes.

"Your hands on my face are making my nose itch." He says grabbing your right hand and gently squeezing it as he sits up beside you.

You hum a tune of acknowledgment and take in his appearance. Coriolanus' pale skin was a wonderful sight to behold as the blanket slipped and fell into his lap.

"You're staring again." He says playing with your fingers

"An incredibly attractive man seems to be missing his shirt, can you blame me for staring?" You state a playful smile pulling on your lips.

Coriolanus lets out a snort and gets out of bed with a grunt. Long red scratches adorn his back as you watch your fiancee walk across the room towards the bathroom, ready to scrub last night's activities off himself.

Yes, mornings were your favorite time of day. You had warm sunshine, delicious food, and Coriolanus by your side.

But, most of all, mornings were your favorite because you weren't alone.

Coriolanus never truly wanted to leave the bedroom he shared with you. Even now as you groaned and begged him to just lounge around the mansion with you, he wished he could go back to when he felt your soft fingertips brushing the bridge of his nose. He had woken up beside you, cleaned himself, and eaten a wonderful breakfast, now the next step was simple. The next step was attending to his duties as the President of Panem and leaving you to your day in the south wing of the mansion. Despite the tempting idea of staying with you, he knew you'd be eagerly awaiting him, tonight at the dinner table, ready to listen about his day. It was the perfect daily routine and Coriolanus never wanted it to change.

He could feel the press of your lips on his lingering hours later as the newest Head Gamemaker listed detailed plans for the games that were two months away. Dr. Gaul's death had been a blow to the way the Hunger Games functioned as a whole. Now, Coriolanus wasn't sure if the new man chosen for the job was truly the correct choice, he didn't have any of the ruthlessness Gaul had. Sure, he could've stepped in but how would he run the country and dream up deadly traps and mutts for tributes. Sure, he probably could've but that meant so many hours of overtime and leaving you to sleep alone in those overly soft sheets you had hand-picked for your shared bed. This new game maker would just have to do, he didn't want to imagine your sad little face if he didn't sit down for dinner with you each night.

The hours after Coriolanus left you at the breakfast table were terribly boring. There wasn't anything for you to do anymore.Sure, you could've gone shopping or gone to a local park but you hated doing all those things alone. Coriolanus had convinced you that running your Father's weapons company would be overwhelming for you and managed it in your name. As far as you knew it was doing well and was providing many jobs for people in the districts. Everything else in the mansion was tended to by an army of maids and butlers, who were ready at the snap of a finger. So, here you sat in your sunroom that Coriolanus had built as a special place just for you.

You had taken up painting nearly a year ago but your long days of solitude had caused you to quickly run out of inspiration. Now, the paints and easel sat, awaiting your touch but your creativity was gone. You missed Coriolanus and he wouldn't return for another hour. Surely dinner was nearly ready and you wished you were sitting with him, listening to whatever he had spent his day doing. Perhaps you should start a new book before he returns. That'd give you something to tell him about when he did come back.

Maybe the extensive in-home library here would have a book about a lonely woman, wishing for her lover. Maybe there'd be a book all about her and how she spent her days without him and how to pass the time. Maybe, there'd be a book all about her mornings with him and how she never wished for them to come to an end.

It was during these long days that you felt like the loneliest woman in all of Panem. Moments like this made it feel like you were a delicate china doll, only removed from her case to be admired for a few spare moments before being placed back on her shelf.

Two Years Later

Watching. It was something you had gotten good at over the past few months, especially since Coriolanus stopped allowing you to leave the grounds of the mansion. You watched as the boy you grew up with and danced at countless galas faded from view. You tried to welcome the man who sat across from you eating his dinner but it was had more and more difficult as the weeks bled into months and months turned to years. Coriolanus even seldom kissed you now. It hurt even though you knew it was for your own safety. He had admitted it one night in the darkness of your room as he lay beside you. Poison had created sensitive sores in his mouth. You wished he'd stop using it, surely there had to be other ways to do away with enemies.

You felt as though you were withering away, your days were so tedious and you often found yourself eagerly waiting at the dinner table for Coriolanus. Your long days were spent in isolation and you rarely spoke to the staff of the mansion. That didn't stop you from racing to the dining room when the sounds of Coriolanus' return sounded through the halls. Some days it felt like you were a child waiting to tell their parent about their day.

Tonight, it was like your words were falling on deaf ears as Coriolanus was paging through a book while nibbling at the food that had been placed in front of the two of you. Your engagement ring was a dazzling silver as you played with your fingers, wishing he'd look up from whatever knowledge that book might've held.

"Coryo..." You began

"Yes?"

His tone wasn't what you had hoped for. He was annoyed that you were interrupting whatever was on the page in front of him so you didn't elaborate on what you had wanted to say.

Watching. It was something you had gotten good at since there wasn't anything else for you to do.

It was raining the day you found them. You had spent most of the day lounging around and working with the wedding planner Coriolanus had hired so you wouldn't have to do all of the work yourself.

It was nestled in an old shoe box, covered in dust, perfectly hidden behind Coriolanus' clothes on his side of the closet. At first, you had thought it might have been more of Sejanus' things that Coriolanus never gave back to Strabo. Instead what you were met with was worse than a dead boy's things. There, wrapped up in a silky orange scarf sat a single golden earring and an envelope. You swore you could smell lingering perfume on the scarf as you opened the envelope.

It felt like your hands were burning when you finally looked at them. Surely they weren't real. Right?

Two pictures sat in your hands. One of Lucy Gray Baird on some unknown stage, a black guitar in hand. Her pretty dark curls were pulled back and behind her a small group of blurry faces were muddled together, unrecognizable due to the poor lighting. You felt a lump of anxiety and anger swell in your throat when you moved on to the next picture. It was taken as if the subjects of the photo had no knowledge of the camera. Lucy Gray sits on a dilapidated-looking couch with your Coriolanus beside her. Her face was partially obscured as she pressed her lips to his cheek and Coriolanus was smiling, his one arm wrapped securely around her waist.

How long had it been since he smiled like that at you? Perhaps it was even before the reaping that had brought her to the Capitol. When was the last time you saw a truly genuine smile from the boy you grew up with? You wondered how you had missed the way his boyish smiles had transformed into those cruel smirks he donned when things went his way.

Jealousy and sadness burned in your stomach as your mind raced. How long had it been since these photos were taken? It had been nearly 7 years since her games. Coriolanus' head was clearly buzzed in the photo with Lucy which meant it was after he was forced by Highbottom to leave the Capitol. How many times after his return to you had he assured you that nothing had happened between them? How many times had you believed him and his sweet words and actions? How many times had he lied and betrayed you all for another girl who mysteriously disappeared?

Betrayal is what you felt as you pocketed the pictures and slid the box back into its spot behind his fancy coats. Tears were pricking at your eyes as you dressed for dinner, Coriolanus would be back soon and you would confront him about the pictures once he was seated across from you at that dinner table you had sat at hundreds of times.

Dinner is silent as you pick at the cut of steak that was placed on your plate. Coriolanus is talking about how he's on the hunt for another head game maker and how annoying it is but you just can't help but not care. The table that separates you from him makes it feel like a huge ravine has grown between the two of you as you tune him out.

15 years is how long you've known Coriolanus Snow. In those 15 years, you had never dreamed of doing what you were about to do as you removed the pictures from where they sat hidden under your pretty skirt, a floral pattern Coriolanus had picked for your 27th birthday a few months ago. Your heart ached as you slid them across the table to him.

"I found these today. In our closet. Wrapped in your mother's scarf with a gold earring."

You finally have all of Coriolanus' attention as he swallows his food and stops his complaining.

"I thought you said it wasn't romantic. You promised me it wasn't."

Coriolanus glances down at the pictures and reaches out to brush his finger across the one with him and Lucy Gray on that couch.

"You promised, Coryo."

Your voice was breaking. Damn it, don't cry!

"I know I did."

He finally speaks. You wondered what was going through that ridiculously complex mind as he fumbled for his words.

"Then why did you lie? I would've listened if you had just told the truth to begin with." You honestly say.

It's true, you would've heard him out. Maybe you wouldn't have taken him back but you would have at least listened.

"I wasn't thinking straight, okay," He says " I should've told you. I should've gotten rid of that stuff years ago. I don't know why I didn't."

"Yes, you do." You sigh "You love her Coryo. Even now, you're looking for Lucy Gray. That's why you keep me here, you're scared I'll run off like her."

"No, no that's not it. I just...want you to myself." He reasoned

"If that were true you'd let me leave."

"Why do you need to? Everything anyone could ever wish for is right here in this home." He points out, you don't miss the way his fist is clenching, his nails digging into his skin.

"I haven't left the mansion in two years!" You cry, blinking back tears "I feel like some prize you've won and caged up! You don't even let me attend galas anymore."

"You hated those galas. All the nosey reporters and their questions were something you hated. Do you want me to apologize for doing you a favor? I won't. I've done nothing but make your life easier." Coriolanus says

"Yes, you have made my life easier, you've eliminated all challenges I might come across by keeping me here, like a doll." You agree, tone dripping with sarcasm

"Look, if you want you can go to the next gala with me. It's in a week I'll get a designer here tomorrow morning to make you a nice dress." Coriolanus sighed, clearly tired "I don't want to argue with you about petty things"

"Good, then we can argue about these photos." You say, ready to finally hear what he had to say.

"I don't love her. Maybe I did at some point but none of that matters now, I came back to you didn't I?"

Maybe I did at some point.

Hot tears fell from your eyes as you looked down at your feet. How could you be so stupid? Why didn't you see it sooner?

The sound of Coriolanus getting up and walking towards you had you wiping at your face and unattractively sniffing as you tried to fix your runny nose. You didn't want him taking your tears as a sign of weakness. He couched down beside you and pulled your chair out so you were facing him.

"Stop crying." He commands placing his hands on your thighs.

Another fresh set of tears falls from your eyes and Coriolanus brushes them away.

"You're a liar." You say, your voice barely a whisper

"I'm not...I want to be here, with you. I'll let you go back out on your little shopping trips and attend galas, shitty reporters and all."

It's tempting, to agree and let everything perfectly mend itself. But as you glance at the pictures that fell off the table and Lucy Gray's face stares back at you, you feel your heart sink to your feet again.

"You're a liar." You say, this time your voice comes out strong as you push his warm hands from your face

Coriolanus gives you a hard stare but lets you pull away from him.

"You can't even apologize for seeing her." You point out

Coriolanus looks guilty as he disgests your words.

"What happened between the two of you?" You asked

"She ran off, I think. I also had some personal issues after Sejanus was killed. She offered for me to go with her, I almost did." He says

You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment as Coriolanus remains in front of you, on his knees, fiddling with the end of your skirt.

"I don't think I ever really loved her. I think it might've just been the idea of possessing her that I liked." He admits, eyes on the floor

"And how is that different than us now?" You ask

Coriolanus' eyes snap up to yours when the question leaves your lips.

"It's different because...we're us...We grew up together, darling. You ate Tigris' cabbage soup and gave me lunch when I didn't have money for my own."

You swallow the lump in your throat and stand up. Coriolanus immediately rises, not interested in being so much shorter than you. You know what has to come next but you're not sure if you're strong enough to do it. Your actions will close the chapter of a book 15 years in the making.

"Coryo...I think I want to go home." You say looking up at him, fresh tears pool in your eyes.

"You are home. You're with me." He says reaching out and taking your hand in his

"No, I mean...to my family's home. I want my mom, I miss her." You admit, pulling your hand out of his.

Coriolanus' face is confused as you look down at the gorgeous ring he gave you at his proposal. It looked so perfect on your hand when you woke up just this morning but now it felt like a death sentence as you sighed.

"I think you should have this back too..." You say as you slip it off and hold it out to him, "I'm sorry about things ending like this, but if you can't even apologize, I don't think I can stay."

Coriolanus' confusion quickly morphs into anger as he looks at the ring in your hand.

"Put it back on. I'm not letting you walk away." He says, upset

"Coryo, don't make this difficult." You say taking the ring and placing it into the pocket that sits just above his heart in his button-up shirt.

You begin to walk towards the looming archway that marks the entrance to the dining room but you're blocked by an angry Coriolanus Snow, tears in his eyes, fists clenched, and his mouth set in a cold line.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Part Four

Series Masterlist

Taglist:

@10ava01

@i-dont-know-make-it-cool @bxtchopolis @anneliese500 @kitscutie @kiselasmetana @wpdarlingpan @miglielia @anneliese500

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese

@ajs-222

@ayyyeeeeidk

@noisymoisu @clintsupremacy @impeterporker @bl0ndelilac @threeinchminimum @starjane312 @ladyslytherin7 @inmyownlittlechair @eclipixels

@ffioncandy @marihoneywk @earth-to-lottie @julesandro @arzua10 @wotcherpeak

@imaybewrongbutidoubtit @luxebeautystyle @v1ennie @shev3nom @poemfreak306 @slyhersophia @xreaderbooksreads @popcornpoppin @peach97 @louweasleymalfoy @lizziebitch33

@hjgdhghoe @death934 @whore-for-pennywise @poppyflower-22 @callsignwidow @hey101010 @winuvs @iliveonteaandbooks

@powernutterbar @supersmexyandhot @dahlias-and-marigolds @literatureluster @spidermoony @lorarri @dilucpegg3r @forevermoremagcon @sarahskywalker-amidala @ms-longbeach@fictionalwhore123 @snowsgames

#the hunger games #fanfic #coriolanus snow smut #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #tom blyth #rachel zegler #coriolanus snow fluff #sejanus plinth #thg #tbosas #coriolanus snow x fem!reader

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jadeshifting · 4 months ago

Text

❦ … LOCKBOX … OF … (WILDEST) … DREAMS

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

if u want the KEY, here it is —> 🗝₊˚⊹♡

.　　. 　 ˚　. ABOUT ME

— i’m JADE, a very typical and normal shifter with too many DRs, too many interests, and too many soulmates (none in this reality, ew.)

— i love books and movies and anything I can devour and integrate into my identity, which I do with all of them. born in ‘05, i’m 19, and pinterest, tumblr and letterboxd haaaate to see me coming. I write— sometimes a whole bunch of nothing, sometimes things I’m convinced belong in the bible, but I still do it like my fingers will fall off at anytime

.　　. 　 ˚　. ( pssst, my pinterest )

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

i want a yellow diamond engagement ring .. a BIG one. i want a country house with a porch. i want a velvetine bunny rabbit with floppy ears. i want a stone house next to the sea. i want the whole sea.

and I can HAVE it, and so can you. isn’t shifting fun babes ౨ৎ

.　　. 　 ˚　. SHIFTING JOURNEY

it’s likely nothing you haven’t heard before. I found out about shifting when everyone else did (Hogwarts, which I’m sure you can tell stuck to me like tar) and lived with only misinformation for sustenance on shiftok for a loooong time (rip </3) until I had the sense to use amino, some reddit, and finally ended up on shiftblr

.　　. 　 ˚　. MI BLOG

i talk about all sorts of things on here !! like a one-stop shop for shifting & scripting—you may notice that i love to focus on scripting, though. in my ( humble ) ( NOT ) opinion, our community is oversaturated with advice that more often than not overcomplicates the very natural, automatic process that is shifting. rather that putting the simple process of shifting under a microscope, i find it much more fun to explore everything you can do with it. i take emoji anons and i’m happy to chat about pretty much anything !! you can refer to my inbox guidelines below or my “asks <3” tag for more specific examples of the kinds of questions i take

— inbox guidelines ( coming soon, PATIENCE )

— anons list

❦ … ALTERNATIVE … REALITIES

(not DESIRED, because I don’t desire things I already have or places I already go to)

.　　. 　 ˚　. HOGWARTS REALITY … school in the echoing, ever shifting stone walls of Hogwarts, excelling at forms of magic that are unknown to the rest of the world. holing up in dorms, lanterns’ glow illuminating ink-smudged fingers and invented incantations. returning to the manor in the summertime, when the fun really stars, when we twirl absurdly in silken gowns at gala after gala, kiss people our families wouldn’t approve of, take our liberties in between swaths of velvet and drenched in silvery champagne. in the end, though, it all comes down to one thing: power. the opulence, our loyalties, our endless magic. it all serves that one thing

— hogwarts masterlist

— shiftmas masterlist ( 4 hogwarts )

.　　. 　 ˚　. 2006 MYSPACE HOTTIE REALITY … thrust into fame from both my booming myspace blog and a face people can’t seem to do anything but affix their eyes on, my serious acting career does nothing to stop the diabolical antics i put on with my hot friends and my absolutely smoking boyfriend—in the public eye, sure, but mostly in the grainy hot pink sanctuary of my infamous myspace account. they can’t take their eyes off of me

— jare & i keep making headlines ( hot )

.　　. 　 ˚　. THE WALKING DEAD REALITY …

— intro

— 5 senses ( waking up there. )

— things i’m looking forward to

— what’s in my (apocalyptic survival) bag

— walking dead radio

— my DR self moodboard

— trapped with Negan

.　　. 　 ˚　. SUPERNATURAL REALITY

— intro

— hunter log 001

— lookbook

— things i’m looking forward to

— my life ( told through tarot )

— me as a perfume

— why would the winchesters let you join them? ( script inspiration )

— blueberry & sugar lemon perfume

.　　. 　 ˚　. EVER AFTER HIGH REALITY

— a guide to classes at ever after high

— lore blurb

— shoutout to my original s/o (nostalgia, apple ml)

— fairytale parent ideas

.　　. 　 ˚　. SMALLVILLE REALITY

— my dr basics ( pre-intro )

— my dr self moodboard ( Jade Apple LaRue )

.　　. 　 ˚　. NYC STAR REALITY

— musings ( things i’m looking forward to )

— yearning 4 my boyfriend when he’s away

.　　. 　 ˚　. BTS REALITY

— trendsetting

— the 4 seasons

.　　. 　 ˚　. JURASSIC WORLD REALITY

— my DR self moodboard

— a day in my life on Jurassic World

.　　. 　 ˚　. OUTER BANKS REALITY

— my DR self moodboard

— what’s in my bag?

— 5 senses ( waking up there. )

.　　. 　 ˚　. MUCH ADO ABOUT LOVE LETTERS REALITY

— DR blurb

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　�� 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

❦ … NAVIGATION

.　　. 　 ˚　. asks are always open and I luvvvv them, i’d be totally happy to write scenarios, blurbs, give shifting motivation or scripting ideas, or really anything else. don’t be shy & feel free to send whatever you want :-)

MUSINGS ( SOMEONE STOP HER. )

𓆩♡𓆪 — the spectral glamour girl

𓆩♡𓆪 — don’t feel guilty for your main character syndrome

𓆩♡𓆪 — there are plenty of fates worse than yours

𓆩♡𓆪 — traveling the multiverse vs traveling the world

𓆩♡𓆪 — why do we use face claims? ( on self expression vs. self acceptance )

𓆩♡𓆪 — “this is the best method” and why that doesn’t serve your shifting journey

SCRIPTING IDEAS

𓆩♡𓆪 — waiting room ideas

𓆩♡𓆪 — hogwarts elective classes to script

𓆩♡𓆪 — places to script (hogsmeade)

𓆩♡𓆪 — scripting your family ( i swear it can work even if they’re not dead )

𓆩♡𓆪 — enriching your life ( adding depth to the mundane in your DR )

𓆩♡𓆪 — the art of moodboarding ( & using it to script )

𓆩♡𓆪 — uniquely characterizing yourself ( small, important details )

𓆩♡𓆪 — luck ( aka the secret weapon to surviving the apocalypse without getting rid of the plot )

𓆩♡𓆪 — 100 scripting ideas . road trip edition

𓆩♡𓆪 — so, you wanna shift to the hunger games? ( no judgement, just ideas )

𓆩♡𓆪 — supernatural scenarios ( romance w/ Dean vers. )

𓆩♡𓆪 — grungy / haunting fem. faceclaims

ITTY BITTY SHIFTING CONTENTS

𓆩♡𓆪 — my favorite shifting experience

𓆩♡𓆪 — my “method”

𓆩♡𓆪 — struggling to escape an escapist mindset

𓆩♡𓆪 — drift & shift ( a teensy nighttime routine for the girlies that have a hard time chilling out )

𓆩♡𓆪 — some of my niche (?) DRs

𓆩♡𓆪 — what happens to my CR body when i shift?

𓆩♡𓆪 — combinations : my CR vs. my DR ( one drink, one eat )

𓆩♡𓆪 — would my DR selves get along if they were separate people? hmm

𓆩♡𓆪 — positive affirmations ( vers. holiday )

𓆩♡𓆪 — my girly engagement ring in the multiverse

FRUIT ASK GAME 🍒

— 🍒 the ask game

— 🍎 what i’m best at in my DRs

— 🥑 the most comforting part of my day in my DRs

— 🍅 secrets i’m keeping in my DRs

SLYTHERIN HEADCANONS

pansy parkinson headcanons

theodore nott headcanons

blaise zabini headcanons

blaise zabini headcanons no.2

lorenzo berkshire headcanons

draco malfoy headcanons

#shifting #shifting to hogwarts #shifting script #shifting motivation #shifting community #shiftblr #shifting blog #reality shifting #shifters #shifting antis dni #shifting diary #shiftinconsciousness #intro post #blog intro #masterlist #navigation #hogwarts scripting #hogwarts dr #harry potter dr

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avelera · 3 months ago

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(Meta) Fortiche's Use of Religious Imagery in Viktor's Arc Was Intended to Convey Sinister Undertones

So I'm gonna put my Art History TA hat on for a second and say I've seen a lot of the connections made between Viktor (Arcane) with the religious imagery referenced in his arc, which is inescapably present and intentional, and I feel like its worthy time for a reminder that Fortiche, the animation studio for Arcane, is based in France

So on the one hand, it would be impossible to develop as an artist in France and not have a ton of exposure to religious art and iconography, which is very obvious in just how much Renaissance art and Catholic iconography is referenced with Viktor. (Never mind how well it works as a visual language for the mysticism they imbued into the rise of the Machine Herald in general.)

There's a great thread about all the art referenced here:

But on the other, if I can just put my history nerd hat on as well for a second I'd also like to point out that there's also subtle (and not so subtle) sinister undertones to the religious iconography for Viktor, even before he does anything overtly evil. Like, even when he heals Huck back in 2.02, I think we're meant to feel at least a subtle sense of wrongness to the "triumph" of that scene and the swelling religious chorus.

I was reminded while watching those scenes that an element of the French Revolution (also referenced in the opening credits of Arcane with Jinx waving the flag, so I think it's fair game to consider in discussions of the meta themes of the show) that is sometimes overlooked in the US when we learn about the French Revolution is how much the rage at the aristocracy was also aimed at the Catholic priesthood, since those two institutions were deeply intertwined as oppressive forces against the French people.

Basically, I think if you consider a French studio referencing Catholic religious imagery in their show (used to depict Viktor's rise to mystic power which will in turn lead to his eventual disillusionment with humanity and him dooming the world if he isn't stopped) you're missing out on some delicious shades of nuance and subtle foreshadowing if you don't know that a French studio's use of Catholic imagery could, in itself, be intended to add a subtle sense of impending evil because Catholicism in that country has also historically represented a system that is oppressive towards individual freedoms.

Now of course France's relationship with Catholicism is complex and it isn't just a simple case of Catholic Imagery = Evil Stuff is Happening Here, but I would point out that if you watched an American show and a character was crowned king in the first act to a manically cheering crowd, it would absolutely be fair to wonder if the crowning of the king had sinister undertones, because of the US's history and how the country was established in part as an escape for monarchy. On a cultural level, we see kings as bad things in the US, and likewise in France, Catholicism as an institution and Catholic imagery have some very complex and often evil associations.

TL;DR If you don't consider that a French studio might have used Catholic imagery specifically as visual hint and foreshadowing that Viktor's arc was going to be about him turning evil, then you're missing out on some very fun and tasty meta associations in the Arcane show.

#arcane #viktor arcane #arcane meta #religious iconography #this is from a US perspective but I've lived many years in Italy and France #so I feel like this isn't complete nonsense to say even as an outsider

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dovveri · 11 months ago

Text

doctor's advice

synopsis: y/n decides to go to the leading plastic surgery clinic in korea bcs she's sick of feeling the way she does about how she looks. she catches the attention of dr. im nayeon, the head of this practice who thinks y/n is way too pretty to warrant any of those feelings she has about herself.

warnings: this is lowkey just smut oops, fingering, oral, body image issues - so a lil angsty in the beginning

w/c: 4.2k

a/n: this one is kinda all over the place and i lwk hate it but i needed to finish it so i could get over this writing block like i did kindaaa have a vision for it but i gave up halfway and just turned to sex which is why it doesn't flow well LMAO but hey! doctor nayeon is hot so!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"can i get your full name please?"

"y/n l/n."

the receptionist smiles at you, typing something into her computer and handing you a form, "alright y/n, just fill in this form and someone will be with you in a bit."

you nod, accepting the form and taking a seat in the waiting room of the plastic surgery clinic you were currently at.

you scan over the details of the form. most of it was just demographic information, asking you your age, gender, a little about your daily activities, whether or not you actively exercised, all the simple questions.

you were feeling a little desperate when you finally decided to make a first consultation at the most well-renowned plastic surgery clinic in seoul. you had been thinking about doing it for a while now, but lately the feeling of disgust at being in your own body was overwhelming.

your parents didn’t understand why you’d want to do anything to the body they brought into this world. your friends thought plastic surgery was an excessive response and that it could potentially be dangerous. but none of them understood what it felt like to wake up everyday and be reminded that you were stuck in this body, the fear that no-one will ever be able to love you and that you’d consequently end up alone for the rest of your pitiful life.

your grip on the pen grows a little tighter as you remind yourself why you’re here.

you feel a set of eyes on you as you’re getting to the end of the form, so you look up, locking eyes with a gorgeous woman in a clean white lab coat, curious eyes behind a set of thick spectacles that frame her face perfectly. with all your experience analysing how you look you can't help but think she would be the perfect reference for your surgical procedures.

but you're also hit with thoughts of why is she looking at me? is she judging me? i bet she's judging me. fuck what is she looking at? is it my legs? my arms? my nose? is she thinking i'm an unsolveable case? fuck i shouldn't have come here. i should go now-

"hi, y/n?"

you're snapped out of your thoughts when you realise the pretty woman is now standing in front of you.

"y-yes." you curse at the stutter but she pays it no mind, offering a smile.

"the receptionist gave me your name. i'm dr im but you can call my nayeon. do you want to come with me?"

your eyes widen when she introduces herself. dr im. the most well-renowned plastic surgeon in the industry. you heard rumours that she had waitlists up to 20 years long and that you couldn't get an appointment with her except through referral. she was the one who brought this clinic its reputation of the leading plastic surgery clinic in the country.

"i-i'm sorry there must be some mistake? i didn't think the dr. im would be my advising clinician today."

she smiles again, "well no i wasn't meant to be but i came to grab some files from the front desk and i saw you and asked jiyeon," she gestures to the receptionist who handed you your form, "and found out you were here for an advisory session and forgive me if i'm being forward but i just thought you were beautiful and wondered what you possibly could've wanted to get done."

you feel your cheeks rapidly heat up as you gape up at her in shock.

"i can call back the previous doctor who was assigned to you if you want! i didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable i'm sorry if i-"

you interrupt her quickly, "no no! sorry that was just a surprise to me i definitely wasn't expecting that from you but um- yeah sure we can go now i'm fine with you being my doctor."

she grins then, and you're entranced by her slightly larger front teeth that make an appearance, "great! follow me."

you stand up a little frantically, gathering all your things and quickly following dr im.

it's more of an office than a doctor's room, you note the expensive leather and framed awards and certifications hanging on her wall, the neatly organised desk and pretty flowers that decorate and give the room some colour.

you sit cautiously in one of the chairs in front of her desk as she moves to sit in hers

"water?" she offers you.

you shake your head no, glancing down at your hands and fiddling with them just to be able to do something.

she looks over your form very briefly before looking back to you with a kind smile. "so what were you hoping to get out of coming here today y/n?"

you can't look up at her, "u-um just... y'know. like... everything..."

she cocks her head, "everything?"

"yeah like... face, body, all of it."

nayeon frowns, "that would be quite an expensive procedure."

"oh money's not really a problem. i've saved up a lot for this." you try to joke a little, if only to ease your own nerves, "worked my ass off all throughout high school and college so i could do this one day."

"you don't want to spend that money on anything else?"

you're confused and finally look up at her, "well i mean sure there are plenty of things i could spend it on but this is something i've thought about for a long time now and i'm finally ready to do it."

she's quiet for a little, seeming to be deep in thought, before she speaks up, "y/n... has someone made you feel like this?"

you frown, your sweaty hands gripping your pants tighter, "i'm sorry what does this have to do with my appointment?"

"i want to make sure you're doing this for the right reason. wanting to alter your entire body is a big decision and it can have lasting impacts. i don't want you to regret it afterwards."

you're getting more and more frustrated. this was a famous plastic surgeon who dealt with thousands of surgeries and has probably met cases like yours but she still doesn't seem to understand you. just like your parents and your friends, no-one understood.

"why does it matter to you? i want to get lots of things done that’ll make you lots of money and that really should be your only concern."

she narrows her eyes at you, “y/n, i couldn’t care less about the money. look around.” she gestures to her office, all the expensive trinkets and decorations she has lying around, “i have enough money to support a family for 100 lifetimes. what i do care about are my clients-”

you burst, “what do you know?! you’ve probably spent your whole life being adored for everything you do. people probably fall over themselves just to get a chance to talk to you! you’ll never understand how it feels to be unloved, to hate yourself when you wake up every morning and look in the mirror, to think everyone’s always talking about you, looking at you, judging you, you’re so beautiful you couldn’t ever know!”

she’s surprised at your sudden increase in volume. you had kept all of this in for so long, you felt like if you ever told anyone else they’d just think you were complaining but it was so much more debilitating than that. you couldn’t talk to your parents or your friends out of fear they’d think you were too needy or attention-seeking or whatever. nayeon was the first stranger who had shown they cared for you and you took that as a sign to release all your years of pent up frustration at her.

“i- i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to explode like that i-“

“it’s okay y/n. i’m sorry you’ve had to feel like this for so long on your own. but i just want to say, i’m not one of those people. i know it’s hard to believe when you look at me and what i’ve accomplished, but i find it hard to believe no-one loves you. and sure i judged you when i first saw you but not negatively. i told you i thought you were what i thought to be the perfect model for other people’s procedures and i was curious what you wanted to change about that.”

she’s collected herself and responds to you calmly, only with the curiosity of a scientist in her eye.

you’re unsure how to respond to her, feeling more than a little awkward now after your accidental outburst.

you attempt to clear your throat to start, “right… um so-“

“why don’t you take off your clothes and show me what you’d like to have done?”

you blush a bright red at her response, nodding slightly as you both stand and you begin to strip. you leave your underwear on as she stands in front of you, running her eyes over your body.

“um… so i guess if we’re starting from the bottom… i wanted to slim my calves down and shape them a little better… obviously um my ass i’d like to be a little rounder-“ you gesture to your various body parts as you talk, and she’s nodding, eyes focused, hands reached out as you feel goosebumps litter your skin when she gently probes the areas you're talking about.

"would you mind taking off your underwear? i just need to get an estimate of what you're talking about."

you blush again as you nod shyly, peeling the offending piece of item off you and turning as she prods and pokes again.

"um... yeah so i was also thinking a tummy tuck? just to tighten all the skin here-"

the feeling of her fingers on your body is slowly driving you insane. you're shivering a little as she runs her hand along your lower stomach, humming a little.

"um also like y'know, a boob job-"

she gestures for you to take off your bra and you do so, now standing completely naked in front of the doctor.

her hands come up and cup them, your nipples are hardening in the cool air of her office, "what size were you thinking?"

"i-i- u-um-" she squeezes a little and you take a deep inhale, trying to calm yourself, your eyes glued to the ceiling as she fondles you, "m-maybe one up?"

she hums and you feel a thumb brush across a nipple whether intentionally or unintentionally and you're suddenly clenching your thighs together praying she doesn't notice.

"so also um arm lifts, a face lift, kinda wanna hollow out my cheeks a little more and maybe highlight my cheekbones? lip fillers and a new nose, all of my scars obviously, and probably a brow lift too..."

her hands are on your face now, cupping your cheeks and she's close enough you can see the small specks of gold in her eyes and the little mole under her left eyebrow. your breath hitches as her eyes meet yours, they're so full of wonder and curiosity and you're reminded of the fact that you're very naked right now and standing in front of an extremely pretty woman.

she hums again, eyes dropping to your nose, than your lips, and you unconsciously wet your lips in tension, watching as her eyes trace the action.

then all of a sudden she's gone, moving back towards her chair and turning on her monitor. you quickly scramble for your clothes, hurriedly putting everything back on as you join her, blushing at the slightly sticky feeling between your legs.

"okay so we can do everything you just said. i'm going to need a few references-"

"you can use yourself for most of them."

she raises an eyebrow at you, a slight lift in the corner of her mouth.

"i appreciate the compliment y/n but if you're going to play that game then i'd like to say i wouldn't want to be sitting here discussing what to change about you in the first place."

"what would you be doing then?"

there's a glint in her eyes and you swallow, "helping you realise how there's nothing to change. eventually i'd get you to help me take a few pictures maybe, as reference for future customers who come in."

"and how would you do that?"

"how would i make you feel beautiful?" she's standing up and rounding her desk, taking her glasses off and placing them on her table, and you're looking up at her feeling strangely defiant.

"well yeah it'd be pretty hard knowing how much i hate myself-"

her arms now bracket the sides of your chair and she's leaning down with a clear smirk on her face.

"i'd touch along here," she's trailing one of her hands up your arm, leaving goosebumps in her wake, "here," she reaches your neck, then up to your face, leaning in to speak into your ear now, "everywhere just so you know exactly what i'm talking about. and i'd make you feel so good like you've never felt before, and i'd keep doing that until you realise just how crazy you drive me."

your eyes are lidded when you speak up again, voice hoarse and deep, "try it."

she's all in your space now, climbing into into your lap, lips closing around your ear lobe as she sucks. your eyes close and you groan a little when her hips meet yours, tilting your head back distantly wondering how the fuck you got yourself in this situation but quickly shaking that thought off when you feel her move towards your neck, licking and sucking.

soon enough she's moving up your jaw and towards your lips, one hand on your shoulder, the other one at your waist. she stops just short of your lips with a little smirk on her face as you share the same air.

your eyes meet her in a blaze and you surprise her when you yank her down, she moans when that brings your hips together even closer and you capture her lips with impatient want. her hands are tangling into your hair now, pulling lightly as your lips slide against each other, your breath hitching when she licks a tongue along your top lip.

“these- fucking- lips-“ she’s breaking away between kisses for air, panting softly.

“i can’t believe- you’d want to do anything- when i could kiss these- all fucking day-“

she’s breaking away again, leaving you chasing as she places pecks all across your face, “new nose? please this slant is perfect. these cheeks are adorable and these eyebrows shape your pretty pretty face just right-“ she’s kissing every inch of your skin, moving back down to your neck and nipping at your collarbone.

her hands are at the bottom of your shirt, sneaking up to caress the lines of your stomach and you let out a sharp inhale when one hand comes unashamedly up to cup your breast.

“how could you be making those pretty sounds if this wasn’t your body i was touching hmm?” she’s lifting your shirt over your head, sliding her hands everywhere.

"breast implants?" she scoffs as she brings her hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, flinging it behind her and moving her hands straight to cup your tits. "please darling look how perfectly these fit in my hands. and the way they spill out between my fingers if i squeeze like this-" you moan unabashedly now when she gropes and grasps.

"god i could just hold these all day-" she's dipping down, a tongue tracing the top of your breast, the hot feeling against your skin driving you absolutely mad as you roll your hips against her with a whimper.

she pushes you back down roughly with her hips, looking up at you, her hands never stopping her fondling at your breasts, she is obscene. "don't do that now sweetie. i'm meant to be taking care of you and showing you just how pretty you are to me. so you're gonna sit there and look pretty while i do exactly that mmk?"

she's taking a nipple into her mouth now, licking and sucking, and you hiss when she bites down softly, feeling her mouth turn upward at the sound.

she lavishes your breasts, leaving you quivering and flushed in her wake, she makes small comments in between periods of sucking marks into the side of your tits, her tongue has never once left your body since she started, wet trails leading everywhere.

she's kissing down your stomach now and you suck in a breath as she sinks to her knees in front of you, looking up at you with those curious eyes, completely clothed still in her white labcoat, mouth wrecked and lips in a pretty little pout. she's spreading your legs and you're fighting a little against her, embarassed at the fact that her face would be so close to you and she could see every little detail of your arousal.

she tuts but shuffles back a little, letting you close your legs again but she picks one up and starts feeling along your calf, pressing gently at the muscles there and feeling you unclench in relief.

"these don't need anything done either. you're just a little tense here. some stretching and a good massage will work those kinks right out and you won't even notice them anymore."

she's pressing down on all the pressure points to release the tension in your calves, and you moan slightly in pleasure as your head lolls back, eyes squeezing shut, cool air hitting your wet breasts, nipples perking at the lack of attention and you shudder.

you're helpless when she starts spreading your legs again, miraculous hands moving up to your knees, still kneading and massaging, then up to your thighs.

then her mouth is on you again, hot and wet against the inside of your thighs and you're squirming, breathing picking up as the tension in the room multiplies tenfold. you don't dare look down at her afraid the sight may just push you over the edge.

but hands come shooting down to her head when that tongue, that fucking tongue, licks a gentle strip from the bottom of your cunt to the top, stalling at the hood of your clitoris and pushing it back only to place a small peck on the nub and moving back down to drink in the essence flowing out of you.

"f-fuck dr im i-i-"

she stops, looking up at you with a quirk of an eyebrow, a lustful darkness seeping into her curious eyes, "call me that again."

"doctor im?"

she's back to lapping at your pussy and you moan, closing your thighs around her head, one arm raised up and holding on to the back of the chair to keep yourself upright.

"so fucking delicious. my god i could just tie you up and eat you out for hours."

you're whining, cunt clenching at her words but she's prying your folds open with her fingers, enamoured by the way your hole only seems to leak more with every action she takes, then she's licking into you and you cry out at the feeling. her tongue lashing against your walls as she moans at the taste of your core, sending shockwaves of pleasure right up your spine.

you can't take much more but she's lifting your ass and gripping, tugging you closer to her so she can explore even more of you.

eventually her mouth comes up for air and she's grabbing and kneading your ass cheeks, "these?-" her voice is a lot more gravelly now, thick with lust and she's panting slightly, "you don't know how perfect these are. they're the exact amount of firmness but still soft enough that i could use your ass like a pillow and you're talking about shape?" she sends a light slap up into you and you gasp, only clenching even harder around nothing, "just look how that rippled for me darling you need to know how fucking hot you look right now and how much you turn me on just from looking at you."

she almost sounds like she's growling with the low tenure of her voice and she's tugging you back into her, kissing your clit and sucking it into her mouth.

"d-doc- i- i- oh fuck- i'm gonna-"

she offers no response, just humming into you and you rut your hips into her at the vibration, completely helpless and positively dripping.

soon enough you're spilling over, coming with a moan, your back arching and she's licking you through it, you're completely blissed out heaving in effort before you slump back down into the chair.

but she doesn't stop. you're feeling overstimulated as she continues her assault on your pussy and you're lightly tugging her hair upwards trying to get her to come up but she's shaking her head no, and then shaking her head to tongue you side to side and you're building up all over again.

"w-wait d-doc i- i can't i just- doc-"

she looks up at you then, and holy fuck you almost came again at the sight. her slightly disheveled hair, eyes glazed over, mouth open and tongue sticking out absolutely ruined.

she's moving back up your body, kissing along places she's already left her mark on. "what did i say about sitting still and looking pretty baby? hmm?" a long finger finds its way to your folds and you're clenching in anticipation. "i said i'd make you cum as many times as it'll take for you to realise you're hot right? i'm not one to take back my words sweetie."

"f-fuck i- oh shit doc i-"

she's pushing into you torturously slow, a teasing smirk against your neck, "hm?"

"nggh fuck please- please i need- fuck- i need you- oh shit-"

"this?" another finger joins her but she stays hilted inside you, unmoving as you wriggle under her.

"ah- y-yes! p-please move- oh fuck i- please-" you're babbling at this point, almost incoherent but she's sliding out of you and then pushing in oh so wonderfully.

she's back to mouthing at your nipple, the sensitive nubs sending flares of heat down to your core, "so so pretty."

"i- yes- i- oh fuck-"

her fingers are entering you at a faster pace now, the wet sounds of your fucking filling the empty office.

all of a sudden there's a loud knock at the door and she stills inside you, looking up in slight alarm, nipple popping out of her mouth.

"doctor im your 3pm is here."

you can't help but clench around her fingers and she whips her head back down to you, wiggling her fingers a little at the feeling and you gasp.

"tell them to wait! i'll be another 10 minutes."

she's started moving inside you again and you bite your lip trying to keep quiet.

"alright." the sound of footsteps walking away is quiet before nayeon is driving into you again with renewed vigour.

she's hitting the spot inside you that's making your toes curl, her lips are back around your nipple sucking and licking, and then she's using a hand and pressing down lightly on your lower stomach stimulating your g-spot both from the inside and outside and you cry out around her as you come.

you're panting as she brings you back down, caressing your face and pushing your hair back, moving up to leave kisses all across your face again.

you're only able to open your eyes after a minute or so, blinking dazedly at her as she smiles and plants a kiss on your lips.

"listen... if you want... how about you give me a chance to make you feel loved, to show you how beautiful you are, and if you still feel that way about yourself afterwards, then i'll do all those surgeries for you personally, no more questions asked." she's soft against you, and you can't help but nuzzle your head into her neck, still a little boneless.

"okay."

"okay?" her eyes are bright as she pulls back so she can face you.

you nod with a lazy smile and she's hugging you, kissing your face again murmuring sweet you're so prettys and you did so wells.

too soon and she's lifting herself off you, helping you back into your clothes and standing by the door.

"i'm sorry that i had another appointment. i totally forgot. but i've got your number in my files so i'll message you after work today okay? maybe if you're free tonight we can grab something to eat together?"

you're shy as she's sending you off, nodding a small yes.

"okay don't ghost me now yeah?"

you blush, "y-yeah. see you dr. im."

"nayeon please. you can call me nayeon when we're not... y'know-" she sends you a wink and you only blush more, only barely stopping yourself from bowing to her in apology.

"alright n-nayeon."

"there we go. i'll see you in a bit okay y/n?"

you smile and walk out the door she's opened for you. it would still be a long way before you could be happy with yourself, but you thought maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to postpone your surgeries for a little and see what im nayeon likes so much about you.

#nayeon #im nayeon #nayeon x reader #twice nayeon #nayeon smut #twice smut #nayeon x f!reader #nayeon x fem!reader #twice x reader #twice x f!reader #twice x fem!reader #twice imagines #nayeon imagines #dovveri

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starseedpatriot · 4 months ago

Text

Dr. Casey Means on RFK Jr.'s HHS Nomination (2 min, 15 sec): “We are the sickest of the top 11 high-income countries in the world. We have the highest infant and maternal mortality rates, and our life expectancy is 10 years less than our friends in Japan and Switzerland right now…The words 'chronic illness,' as far as I know, never came out of the Harris campaign's mouth. And I think that was a real misstep because Americans are, I think, tired of being gaslit about the fact that there's not a problem right now. And when we look around us, we know there is.”

“And Trump has asked RFK to do three simple things. He's asked to get the corruption out of the U.S. health agencies, produce uncompromised evidence-based research for our health guidelines, and reverse the trends of the chronic disease epidemic in two years for children and adults so that we can show up for our 250th anniversary of America stronger than ever. That sounds pretty good to me.”

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callmeagardengnome · 8 months ago

Text

˚ʚ paint my world ɞ˚ | SONG MINGI

pairings ᯓ idol!mingi x painter! fem!reader

genre ᯓ soulmate au, one-shot

synopsis ᯓ you’ve been seeing in black and white for all your life - until a popular idol comes in and changes things

w.c ᯓ 2.7k

author’s note: make sure to like and repost!!

not proofread!

masterlist

blue. you’ve never seen blue before.

you stood in front of the clothing rack in shock, trying to process what you were looking at.

from the moment you were born, you were cursed by your soulmark. colour was something that was foreign to you, something that didn’t seem real. you never understood why your friends would fight over certain crayons or when people looked up to the sky, admiring its beauty - it all looked the same to you.

as depressing as it sounds, seeing in black and white wasn’t too bad. you weren’t distracted by the things around you and you could actually focus in school for the most part.

sure, you had a few awkward moments. like when you wore a completely mismatched outfit - highlighter yellow shirt paired with murky orange pants and pastel pink shoes. if anything, it taught you a learning lesson to always ask your parents for fashion advice.

ironically, you became a painter after you graduated. you were always a creative kid and being colourblind wasn’t going to hold you back from releasing your works into the universe.

you slowly rose to fame, with your artworks capturing the eyes of millions around the world. you even managed to earn a lot of money from it, leading you to buy more supplies for your job.

you stood up from your chair, cracking your back. you’ve been working on this certain art piece for at least 7 hours and you decided to finally take a break. it’s been a while since you’ve painted - you took a short holiday to one of your favourite countries which led you to forget the long hours of sitting down.

you reached for your phone, dialling your best friend’s number.

“hello?” your best friend’s voice echoed in the room.

“i’m boredd,” you groaned out, flopping onto your bed. “can we do something?”

she chuckled. “i’m guessing you’re done painting?”

“i’m taking a break,” you said, shifting, making yourself more comfortable.

“if you want, i can pick you up and we can go shopping?” your best friend suggested, her voice sounding more excited.

“you know me so well,” you replied, hanging up almost immediately. you ran to your closet and picked out a simple outfit, one that you knew matched each other.

you scrolled through your phone, waiting for your best friend to text you. when she finally came to pick you up, the both of you went to your favourite shopping centre, looking at the different stores.

that was what led you to.. blue? pink? yellow?

in all honesty, you had no idea of what colour you were looking at. when your best friend decided to stop at a random clothing store, you thought that it wouldn’t hurt to look around a little bit. while she was in the women’s section, you went over to the men’s section - you never know if they have better clothes.

you browsed through the selection of clothes mindlessly until a shirt caught your eye. “ayo what-“

you went closer to the shirt, one that stood out in a vibrant colour against the monochrome background. you touched the sleeves, the material. it was alien to you. for all of your life, everything was in greyscale. you’ve never seen anything as bright, or beautiful as this shirt that was in front you. you took a moment to inspect the shirt, wanting to imprint the colour into your mind. after all, you never know the next time you would see actual colour.

“‘____’?”

you turned to look at your best friend, who stood a few steps away from you, looking confused.

“…are you okay?” she asked cautiously, not knowing why you looked so stunned.

“dude-“ you coughed out, glancing between the shirt and your best friend. “i can see colour.”

her jaw dropped. “wait- really? can you see the colour of my shoes?” she pointed at her shoes eagerly, nearly dropping the pile of clothes she was carrying.

“well- no..” you replied, disappointed. “but i can see the colour of this shirt..?”

“hm..” your best friend hummed, moving closer to you. she awkwardly reached into her pocket, before starting to google about your soulmark.

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

when mingi found out that ATEEZ was going on tour, he wasn’t exactly thrilled. of course, he was happy that he got to meet the international ATINY, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that he couldn’t properly enjoy the trip.

to him, he didn’t really see the fun in leaving the country, or even going outside. everything looked the same to him. no matter what, he couldn’t see the true beauty of the things around him - so what was the point of feeling excited to go overseas?

mingi flinched when the lights shined intensely in the plane. he slept throughout the entire plane ride, not even bothering to look outside the windows. he absentmindedly followed his group, trailing behind everyone as they got off the plane.

“what..?” his thoughts echoed in his head as he looked around at the airport.

it was.. bright. unusually bright.

it was almost comical how bright the airport was - it even hurt his eyes. he had to blink a couple of times to make sure that he wasn’t hallucinating.

he stopped following the group, taking in his surroundings. was this what normal people saw?

everything was so.. vibrant and bold. he couldn’t even comprehend that people could see this on the daily and not talk about it more. sure, he bumped into a few people by stopping suddenly, but that didn’t matter - in fact, nothing else mattered. mingi could see colour, and he wasn’t planning to stop anytime soon.

“dude are you okay?” yunho snapped his fingers in front of mingi, finally catching his attention.

mingi furrowed his eyebrows, hitting yunho’s hand away from his face. yunho looked at mingi, concerned. “we’ve been calling you for the past five minutes, why are you standing in the middle of nowhere?”

mingi turned away from yunho, shifting his eyes around the airport. “i can see colour.”

a collective ‘WHAT’ was heard from the group as they gathered around mingi, attacking him with questions.

“i don’t know, maybe this airport is just.. different?” mingi said, unsure.

“does that mean your soulmate is here?” wooyoung asked, looking at his members curiously.

“maybe,” seonghwa shrugged, typing in his phone. “i just googled it, apparently you can see colour of the objects your soulmate touches or the places they’ve been in often.”

yunho whistled. “that means your soulmate in the same city as us,” he said, nudging mingi.

mingi smiled, running his fingers through his hair. “how long are we staying here again?”

“..four days?”

“i only have four days to find my soulmate?” mingi exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock. “how am i supposed to do that?”

“i mean.. we have one rest day..?”

mingi groaned, his face in his hands. he was so caught up with the thought of finding his soulmate that tour completely left his mind. he had spent all of his life in black and white and he didn’t want to return back to that.

mingi asked his members to teach him the different colours. he ended up learning that colour can have different hues, brightness and he didn’t want to stop being surrounded by these colours.

unfortunately, they had to leave the airport due to their packed schedule. everything became ten times more boring. the cars passing by, the trees, the pavement, nothing interested him anymore.

his member’s obviously noticed his change in mood and did a small detour to a nearby shopping centre. they wandered around, going to different stores, looking at the different items the city had to offer.

mingi cheered up a bit when he entered a clothing store that was his style. he made a beeline to the men’s section and tried on a shirt that he liked. unluckily, his manager had to drag him to the car, preventing him from buying the shirt.

luckily for you though, fate brought you to the shirt. you unhooked it from the rack, bringing it closer to your face.

“what colour is this?” you asked your best friend.

“it’s blue,” she answered with a wide grin on her face, barely containing her excitement.

you nodded, unable to take your eyes off of the shirt. “where is blue found?”

“the sky,” she said eagerly. “the ocean too, it’s really beautiful.”

she added, “blue is normally used for sadness though. a lot of films portray it that way.”

you didn’t know that a beautiful colour like blue, could be associated with such a depressing emotion. it didn’t make sense to you.

however, you put off your feelings of confusion. now wasn’t the time to question these sorts of things. now was the time to find your soulmate.

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

it was day 3 of ATEEZ being in your city. with each day passing by, mingi felt more and more anxious. he hated the fact that he didn’t have time to find you and how he had to spend most of his time performing.

obviously, he was extremely grateful that he got to meet his fans, but there was a part of him that always felt irritated.

not only that, on the day that he was planning on resting, he got interrupted.

“shouldn’t you ask someone else?” mingi asked, raising an eyebrow.

“no one here likes art,” hongjoong groaned, sitting next to mingi. “i get that you’re colourblind but pleasee accompany me.”

hongjoong was begging mingi to follow him to an art museum. there was art exhibition going on that was intriguing to hongjoong - but unfortunately, was not interesting to his members. this led to hongjoong asking his colourblind member as a last resort to follow him to the museum.

“maybe you can find your soulmate there,” hongjoong mentioned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“i doubt it,” mingi scoffed. “but you know what? i’ll follow you.. cuz i’m a good friend.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes before running off to get ready for the art exhibition.

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

you looked at yourself in the mirror, debating what outfit to wear. should you go casual? formal? after a year of working on it, the launch of your art exhibition was finally here. it was an important milestone in your life and you did not want to mess it up.

you sighed, walking over to your closet. your eyes immediately landed on the vibrant blue shirt hanging on the side of your dull wardrobe. was this the right choice? it was a nice shirt, and it did feel nice to know what colour you were wearing for once.

after considering it, you grabbed the shirt from the rack and hurriedly put it on. you needed to make it to the museum quick - after all, you didn’t want to be late to such an important event.

you booked a taxi to the museum, going over to where your artworks were stationed. you looked at your art pieces in pride, unable to stop yourself from smiling wildly at them.

mingi and hongjoong reached the museum slightly later than they wanted to. they had to squeeze through the swarm of art enthusiasts crowding at the front of the exhibition.

when the two men finally reached the start of the exhibition, they’re eyes widened in shock. while hongjoong was impressed by your artistic talents, mingi’s jaw was on the ground for a different reason.

it was fully coloured.

he’s never seen a coloured picture before, let alone a painting. when he glanced over at the other art pieces, he noticed that they were too, coloured vividly.

“why- why is this coloured?” mingi muttered to himself, moving closer to the painting.

“you can see this?” hongjoong asked in surprise.

mingi nodded, walking over to another painting. “yeah.. all of the paintings actually.”

the two of them stood in silence, both thinking about what this could mean.

“dude- is the artist your soulmate?” hongjoong exclaimed, staring at mingi with wide eyes. “you can see colour of the objects your soulmate touch right?”

“uhuh..”

“you need to find her,” hongjoong said, squeezing mingi’s arm. “it’s the first day of the exhibition, she’s 100% here.”

mingi wasn’t prepared at all to meet you. the idea of even being in the same area as you terrified him. he was thinking about finding you on their last day in the city, he hadn’t even finished planning out what he wanted to say to you.

unfortunately, hongjoong pushed mingi away, forcing him to look for you.

mingi had zero clue of what you looked like - he had no idea of who he was looking for. after a while, he noticed that one of his shoe laces were untied and kneeled down to tie them. that was when he noticed something strange.

he saw blue-coloured footsteps littered all over the ground. he quickly stood up, looking around the room like a madman. at first, he was was searching for you without any real evidence of you being at the museum, but now, everything changed.

you were actually there, and he was going to do his best to find you.

as creepy as it sounds, mingi followed your footsteps, trying to trace where you were going. it was obvious that you were frantically running around the museum, for reasons that he did not know.

while mingi was trying his hardest to find you, you were trying your hardest to prevent any issues from happening. there had been certain entry problems or people requesting you to explain some of your artworks, which led you to scurry around the museum.

your eyes were glued to your clipboard that had all of the things you needed to take note of jotted down. you were so focused that you accidentally bumped into someone.

“sorry-“ you apologised quickly.

mingi picked up your clipboard and handed it to you. not expecting much of the interaction, he almost immediately moved away from you until.. you made eye contact.

the world around you seemed to stop.

the colours came in gradually at first - the blush of red in your cheeks, the rich colours in your eyes, the vibrant blue of your shirt. it was like the first brushstrokes of a painting, the colours spread and bloomed, saturating everything around you.

you blinked, staring at the man in front of you. the moment you locked eyes with him, you knew. he was the one - your missing piece. your soulmate.

“hey,” he spoke up, his deep voice surprising you slightly.

“hi..” you replied, barely above a whisper.

the both of you stood up, the universe revealing itself to you. for the first time, you saw the world in its true beauty - it was alive.

the museum held different hues, different shades of colours you could barely recognise, each colour filling you with a joy you didn’t know you could feel.

mingi smiled. “i can’t believe it,” he said softly. “it’s so.. beautiful.”

you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, your emotions bubbling to the surface. “it really is,” you said, unable to pull your gaze away from him.

mingi wiped the tear rolling down your face, pulling you closer to him.

“you’re so pretty..” he muttered, studying your face.

there was a pause - one that was comfortable. the two of you stared into each other’s eyes, not wanting to look away.

“can i try something?” mingi asked, tilting your jaw up.

your heart raced as a blush crept up to your cheeks. “sure,” you replied, feeling a flutter in your chest.

mingi leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to back away if you wanted to. but you didn’t. instead, you closed the distance between the two of you with your lips meeting in a tender kiss.

the world around you seem to overflow with colour, with the blue in your shirt mixing with the brown of his jacket. the colours in your paintings swirled, creating a beautiful illusion of contrast.

the both of you pulled back, smiling at each other. you saw his warm brown eyes, his hair and how his cheeks were dusted with a light pink.

“i’m so glad i found you,” he said, tracing his thumb across your jaw. “i don’t feel so blue anymore.”

any and all feedback appreciated <3

other fics

series taglist [OPEN] - @jiwoongsblondehair @hwasbabygirl @chngbnwf @passerbyforfun @butterfliesinthesky @ismelllikechlorine247 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @forever-atiny @arki-sha

#gnomeo 🥫#gnomeo🥫writes #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #atz #atz fic #atz x reader #soulmate au #mingi #song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #ateez ot8 #ateez fluff #ateez soulmate au

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justinspoliticalcorner · 5 months ago

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Dean Obediallah at The Dean's Report:

No one can deny that Donald Trump has shown a significant level of cognitive decline since he first ran for President in 2015 at the age of 69 years old to where he is today at 78. But what we’ve seen with Trump is far more than normal aging. Trump—as countless mental health experts have stated—is showing symptoms of dementia. While people can debate if Trump is in the early or mid-stages of severe cognitive decline, what can’t be debated is that this poses a very serious national security issue for our nation. Consequently, this issue demands far more media coverage. On Monday night, I interviewed, psychologist Dr. John Gartner--the founder of “Duty to Warn” –who was first on my show back in April when he was waving red flags about Trump’s mental decline. In April, Gartner noted that Trump “can't get through a rally without committing one of these” tell-tale signs of dementia, such as saying the incorrect word or “combining or mixing up people and generations.”

He also directed my attention to a petition signed by more than 500 licensed mental health professions—including best-selling authors and well-respected psychologists—warning that Trump was exhibiting signs of dementia. Gartner noted in April that “we're noticing deterioration almost every day” with Trump. Here we are six months later. After discussing what Dr. Gartner has observed with Trump over the past few months, I asked this simple question: “Does Donald Trump have some form of dementia?” In response, Gartner answered succinctly, “There's absolutely no doubt.” Gartner explained that on his podcast, “Shrinking Trump,” he has welcomed mental health professionals who specialize in dementia—such as from “Duty to Inform”-- and they reached the same conclusion. “We've had neuropsychologists, neuropsychiatrists on the show who have gone through their analysis” and confirmed what they are observing is dementia, Gartner noted. He added, “When you really talk to the experts and the super experts, it's even more apparent,” that Trump’s exhibiting symptoms consistent with this condition.

Dementia is not a term that should be thrown around whimsically to score political points. Dementia—as Dr. Gartner explained—is “brain damage.” He continued that it’s “a deteriorating organic process in the brain where the cognitive processes start to break down.” He added alarmingly that with people like Trump, “they only go in one direction. They keep sliding downhill.” Adding to the credibility of this diagnosis is that dementia runs in the Trump family. As Donald’s own nephew, Fred Trump III, explained on my show recently, Donald’s father, Donald’s older sister, Maryanne and Donald’s cousin, John Walters all had dementia. And as the NY Times reported ten days ago in an article on Trump’s cognitive decline, “Trump has seemed confused, forgetful, incoherent or disconnected from reality lately.” They added, “He rambles, he repeats himself, he roams from thought to thought — some of them hard to understand, some of them unfinished, some of them factually fantastical.”

Just look at Trump’s conduct in the past week that provides more jarring examples. At an event at the Detroit Economic Club when he was supposed to address economic issues, he literally began to speak of Elon Musk’s missiles landing, “Biden circles” that were “beautiful” but Biden “couldn’t fill them up” to “we’ve been abused by other countries, we’ve been abused by our own politicians”–all in the same incoherent answer. I played that clip for Dr. Gartner who commented that it makes “you realize how completely lost Trump is.” In addition, Trump while appearing on a podcast last week literally delivered a 12 minute (yes, 12 minute) meandering answer that was so incoherent it caused the hosts to joke that Trump was not rambling, he was “weaving.” One host added that they “don’t even want to know the answer anymore,” they just want more “weaving.” They were humoring Trump who was not making sense.

And at a rally in Pennsylvania on Monday, Trump told the crowd to vote on “January 5”—not November. That of course could simply be a minor mental flub, but what came next was truly bizarre. Trump told the audience that it was time to end the questions and just listen to music. I’m not kidding. The context was that two people had passed out from heat at the event, to which Trump asked, would “anybody else would like to faint?” Trump then declared, “Let’s not do any more questions. Let’s just listen to music. Let’s make it into a music. Who the hell wants to hear questions, right?” Then—as the Washington Post reported—"For 39 minutes, Trump swayed, bopped — sometimes stopping to speak — as he turned the event into almost a living-room listening session of his favorite songs from his self-curated rally playlist.”

Yes, Trump stood on stage for nearly 40 minutes at a packed Town Hall where instead of answering questions, he danced. I know it sounds like a Saturday Night Live sketch, but it was real life. If President Biden had done that when he was the nominee, we would’ve seen non-stop coverage exploring his mental state. All of this is why this is truly a national security issue. As Dr. Gartner explained, a person with dementia like Trump could be easily manipulated by “corrupt businessman or any hostile foreign power.” He cited the examples of how devious people have taken advantage of those with dementia to get them to sign a will that makes the person the sole beneficiary. But in the case with Trump, we are potentially talking about Trump agreeing to allow wealthy backers like Elon Musk to financially benefit at our expense. Or worse, allow our enemies to take advantage of him—more than they even did in the past.

Dean Obeidallah succinctly explains that Donald Trump’s dementia is not only a political issue but also a national security issue.

#Dementia Donald #Donald Trump #National Security #Dean Obeidallah #The Dean's Report #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections

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quinloki · 1 month ago

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Valentine's Drive

Marco x fem!Reader

9,303 words

summary: Marco wants to do something special for Valentine's, and so he decides to take you with him on one of his longer country drives.

CW: bondage, dom/sub, reader calls Marco master, mean-ish Marco (he is trying to be nice), dildo, anal plug, bullet vibes, overstimulation, forced orgasms, edging, orgasm control, outdoor sex, temperature play, gag, risking being caught/seen, prep, anal sex, vaginal sex, close enough to proper procedures for safety and sanity - I didn't have to, but I did enjoy grounding it, begging, crying, mdni

TL;DR - I did not hold back, enjoy.

It was your first Valentine’s together. Neither you nor Marco put a lot of stock in the holiday itself, but he said it was a good excuse to have fun since you were both off from work that day. The night before you’d packed an overnight bag, and gone over to Marco’s townhouse. It was closer to his job, and unlike his family’s home, it wasn’t constantly packed to the gills with dozens of brothers.

You’d both taken it easy that evening. Marco had made an easy dinner and you’d snuggled on the couch for a few hours watching campy movies before going to bed.

One of the things that prompted the two of you to start dating was that you were both into kink and bdsm. Outside of a session he was sweet, tender, and attentive. During a session he was firm, controlling, even more attentive, and terribly, terribly mean. His sadistic streak matched your masochistic one almost perfectly.

The first time you begged him to go harder than he’d ever been able to go before he’d made you cum so many times he had to call off work for both of you and take care of you the next day. It was intense, but by that point you trusted him implicitly. He wasn’t afraid to push your limits, you weren’t afraid to communicate them, and spring, into summer, autumn, and now winter.

When you woke up on Valentine’s day, Marco brought you breakfast in bed. He sat and talked with you about light topics so comfortably you weren’t sure it wasn’t his plan to do so all day. Once you were done with breakfast he’d finally admitted to the scope of his plans for the day.

For the next hour or so he got you ready for what he had planned. Prep was clinical, and after having gone through it a few times with him, it was automatic for you. The first few times it had been terribly embarrassing, and Marco had even done it “in scene” to help ease you through it. It was, after all, much easier to obey than volunteer when someone wanted to give you enemas.

Adventurous as you both were, the dynamics of your relationship were dictated by a choker style necklace you both referred to as ‘the agreement’. The black band with it’s small silver bird was simple enough to go with pretty much anything, and understated enough to not be immediately obvious as a collar in public. Though, you did have a few of those.

Outside of a scene you were equals. Partners in crime. There was give and take, and compromise, and hard conversations. Everything that life had on offer.

Within a scene it was different. The agreement was that Marco was the authority, and the balance to his absolute authority was your ability to determine when you were in agreement or out of it. In a way, you had all the control, because it was your trust that conferred that authority over to him.

Clean inside and out, Marco dried you off, brushed your hair, kissed your skin, praised anything and everything about you he seemingly could, and pulled you into a hug while on his knees before you. His chin was between your breasts, his hands on your back, and the warm smile on his face was already making your body heat up.

“I feel like you’re trying to butter me up,” you admit with a smile, brushing his hair back before kissing his forehead.

“It’s going to be a long session, yoi. I just wanted to make sure you were in a good place before we even started.” He hums, kissing your tummy before looking back up at you. “I want to take you on one of my country drives.”

“Three hours along the back roads during winter? There won’t be many cows or horses out to pasture.”

“Nope, not too many other people either. The roads are clear, but most people don’t do the long drive unless it’s nice enough to roll the windows down, yoi.” He smiles, kissing between your breasts. “Though you might ask me to roll them down anyway.”

“What do you have planned, Ma~aster?” You sing the word, taking a step back.

Marco doesn’t let you get far, his hands pulling you back to him, turning you around so you’re facing the mirror while he talks. His hands are firm and almost rough against your skin. You’re both pushing the edges of a session without having officially started it yet.

“I’m going to stuff my sweet bird full of toys,” he begins, his middle finger slipping between your labia and teasing your folds. “Wrap her up in ropes, and let her wear a coat if she behaves, before I set her in my passenger seat and go on a nice long drive, yoi.”

You put your hands over your face, widening your stance to give his finger better access as the heat rolls through you.

“Oh that sounds wonderful,” you try to say the words with confidence, but the idea of it, and his finger are already making your voice shiver.

“Go put on the agreement, and sit pretty for me, and we’ll get started.” He says, pulling his hands away from you and swatting your ass gently.

You head off into the bedroom with a little more pep in your step than you think Marco needed to see, and pull the simple black choker from the box on your dresser. After getting it clasped into place you get down on your knees on the floor, setting them open with your feet together and tucked under your ass. Leaning back you put your hands on your heels.

The position put you almost fully on display. The only way you’d be more exposed would be if you laid on your back and pulled your ankles up to your shoulders. As Marco would say, something that revealing wasn’t for you to control, so of the different ways you could sit - proper, pretty, humble, or apologetic - that just wasn’t one of them.

Proper was similar to pretty, except your knees were kept together and you put your hands in your lap, instead of behind you. Humble was face down, ass up, with your hands on your ankles. It was uncomfortable if you stayed that way too long, and since it was usually a punishment you often stayed that way for long stretches of time while Marco did as he pleased.

Apologetic was a full and proper kowtow, and if you had time whatever you were wearing was folded neatly around you. You’d only done that one a couple times as practice.

After a couple minutes Marco comes into the room with a box. You can see the coiled rope peeking out over the side and press your lips together in anticipation.

“Good girl,” he hums and you feel your body throb. It wasn’t fair the effect he could have on you so easily. Setting the box neaby he crouches down in front of you. His hand at the back of your neck steadies you as he presses two fingers into your pussy.

Whining you rock into the action and help him get deeper. His thumb presses into your clit as his fingers scissor inside you. You were wet before he really even started, and it barely took a minute for him to make messy sounds with his fingers. You kept your hands on your heels, opening your mouth just before he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Look at you.” The smile on his face is dangerous. “Needy, but you’re trying so hard not to be greedy.” He pushes the wet fingers against your tongue and you clean them up happily. “Well, I suppose I could be… nice, for today.”

“Maybe.” He adds quietly, moving his fingers away and pulling you into a kiss. His wet hand teases your nipple while he dominates your mouth. You can barely keep yourself in place, moaning into the kiss, your body trembling from the attention. Even unbound you felt helpless when he did things like this. It was divine.

Leaning back, he holds you in place for a moment, giving you a chance to steady yourself before standing up.

“Up.” He commands, and you get yourself up onto shaky legs. Your knees are a little red from having knelt on the floor, but he didn’t leave you that way for long, so they’d clear up. “Put your hands on the bed and your ass in the air. I’m going to get the plug in first.”

You do as instructed, and Marco comes up behind you working lube into your ass before you have time to anticipate the action. It’s cold, and you gasp, but you don’t squirm away.

“You’re darling little pussy is dripping, so I’ll get the rope harness started before I stuff that hole, yoi.” He explains, working your ass open as you try to stay quiet. He is being nice, he’s not teasing you and edging you, he’s almost being clinical like he was with prep.

You weren’t entirely sure if that was a good sign or not, as yet.

“Alright, talk to me pretty bird, let me know if it hurts.” Marco pushes the tip of a plug into your ass, and you nod. It stretches, eases up, stretches more, eases up, and you realize he’s working the big, long, bubbly plug that wriggles and vibrates into your ass.

“Oh gods.” You murmur the words as it stretches again.

“Too much?”

Shaking your head you push back against the toy. “No, no, sorry sir. I just… realized what it was.”

“Ah.” Marco pushes it in a little faster, getting two bumps in at once and making you moan despite your efforts. “Thinking about it wriggling around for a two hour drive, hm?”

You nod as the last bump is pushed in and the flared flange rests against your ass cheeks. The full feeling was already a lot and you were just getting started.

“Alright, straighten up, put your feet apart wide enough I can reach for the ropes, yoi.” He commands.

You straighten up slowly, it always feels weird with the toy inside you, and put your feet a little more than shoulder-width apart. Marco works quickly and quietly. Sometimes when he ties you up the process of tying you up is the point, and he can easily spend nearly an hour or longer if he gets into really intricate work and poses. Today, however, the tying was functional, and not the main focus, and so he worked quickly.

He folds your arms under your breasts, tying them in place and checking to make sure the tension is right as he works. Even though he’s being efficient, he’s still so close, his breath breaking against your skin, the heat of his fingers trailing over you. It was hard not to get worked up.

Marco tugs on the ropes between your thighs, pulling them loose when he’s getting close to being done.

“Alright, now I can put this in and you won’t drop it a dozen times, yoi.” He teases, holding up a vibrator you’ve had inside you for nearly a full day before. Even with the plug it should be fine to use during the car ride without getting uncomfortable.

He gets it lined up, pushing it in slow and steady.

“You’re so wet it’s already dripping off the bottom.”

“Haaa, don’t… don’t say that, it’s -!!” Your shivering voice is cut short as he shoves it the rest of the way in. Letting out a shallow quavering breath you thank your own lucky stars you didn’t cum from that. One of the fastest ways to get punished was orgasming without permission. Something Marco definitely abused, and you happily let him.

“Mmm, a little less good girl, and a little more lucky bird.” He muses, putting the crotch ropes back into place and tightening the lines, keeping the plug and dildo neatly in place. You nod, your face goes red as he begins to tie your thighs together, just above your knees.

“Now we get you dressed enough you won’t freeze during the stops.”

“We’re… not staying in the car?”

Marco smiles his dangerous smile. “It’s going to be a long drive, you’ll need to stretch a couple times at least, pretty bird.”

That’s complete bullshit. Marco wrapped you up like a mummy and left you immobile for six hours one day. A couple hours in the car was going to be nothing, but you weren’t stupid enough to risk your “nice Marco” possibilities by asking bratty questions right now.

He got you into some thigh highs, pulling them up under the ropes and letting those hold them in place since you weren’t wearing a garter belt. He put thicker socks on over those, and boots on after that. You were a little worried he was going to just trot you outside and to the car in nothing but snow boots, but he only stopped dressing you because he “forgot” some of the accessories.

“These little guys can be taped here.” He hums, putting small bullet vibrators on either side of your nipples, taping two against each one. “And this one,” Marco pulls a larger, almost egg-sized, vibrator out and nestles it against your clit, letting the crotch rope from the harness hold it in place. The added size of the egg pulled the harness a little more snug, but not uncomfortably so.

You were certain Marco had made accommodations for the added mass while tying you up at the start of things.

He then puts your winter coat on you, draping it around your shoulders and buttoning it up. He put the sleeves in the pockets, and it almost looked like you had your hands in your pockets, and were wearing, possibly, a knee-length skirt. The interior of the coat was silk-lined and was cold against your skin for the moment, but it was already warming up.

Marco tilts your face up with just a finger under your chin, and you can feel the heat in your face.

“How’re you doing, pretty bird?”

“Gah-green, I’m…” You take a moment to collect yourself as the vibrators on your chest come to life. “Green!”

“I think you really like where this is going, yoi.”

Nodding slightly, you look away. It’s almost dizzying the blood rushing to your face. “Little nervous, but… I know I’ll be safe with you.”

“Good girl,” he praises quietly, leaning down and kissing you. This kiss is gentle, a soft pressure against your lips as the vibrators against your nipples stop. “Alright, let’s get you in the car. How well can you walk?”

You test your range of motion carefully, taking very tiny steps at first until you sort out how much range of motion you have. You smile sheepishly, and realize Marco’s doing his best not to laugh at you. Even at the best you look like you have to pee.

“Well, if someone asks, you took a fall and are worried about falling a second time, yoi.”

“If-.” You pause. It wasn’t that Marco was intentionally going to parade you around people, but you were going to be outside, and people were also outside. Better to have a story now. No one wants to deal with the police because some concerned, well-meaning, citizen worries your partner is abusing you. “That works.”

Smiling, he sticks his thumb out toward the garage. “Start waddling your way to the car, pretty bird, and I’ll get my coat and the remotes.”

“Yessir.” You almost grumble the words, holding back your tone as you carefully walk toward the garage. You get about halfway there before Marco scoops you up and over his shoulder. You moan as the movement makes the toys inside you shift, and his hand squeezes your ass in response.

He opens the car door and carefully sets you inside, watching to make sure that the toys inside you don’t poke anything uncomfortably as your position changes.

“Good?”

“Yeah, uh, mostly. Not back - eep!” You were explaining you weren’t back in the seat enough when Marco adjusted you.

“Better?”

“Y-yes,” you did appreciate his powers of observation, but sometimes you wished you could keep up. He checks a couple more things, making sure you’re settling in well, and then buckles you in.

Marco gets settled into the driver’s seat, checking on you one last time before he turns all the toys on low.

“Still good?”

Letting out a shaky breath you nod your head. Everything is wriggling or vibrating, but nothing is pinching or causing discomfort.

“Perfect. Ah, one more thing.” Marco pulls a gag out of his pocket. It’s about as thick as a standard ball gag, but it’s got three inches of length shaped like a dick. Just long enough to press against your tongue, just short enough to avoid risk of you gagging on it. After he gets it clipped into place he puts a single use flu-mask over it.

“There, now you’re all tucked in.” Starting the car he pulls out of the garage and onto the road. Once he gets rolling he puts his hand on your knee. You’re acutely aware of the heat of his hand, the texture of his palm against your skin, and the fact that his hand is sliding up.

It doesn’t take much to expose the ropes around your thighs, since they begin just above your knee. Objectively, you know no one can see into the car at that angle. Certainly not on most of the roads you’ll be on, since country roads are barely ever more than one lane on each side. But you can’t deny that your heart is beating faster.

For a few minutes he just leaves his hand there, rubbing your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly as he drives you both out of the city. The vibrators meander to the background of your mind, Marco’s hand occupying the forefront. When you stop at traffic lights he slides his hand up your thigh far enough to loop a finger through the crotch rope, tugging at it a little and watching you struggle to keep your composure with cars nearby.

You know no one is paying attention to you, but it feels like everyone knows. You’re sure the people next to you know you’ve got a gag in your mouth, that you have ropes against your skin. You’re certain some trucker will come along and realize you’re naked under your coat.

Once you clear the city and get onto the country roads, you realize that Marco’s hand was much safer on your thigh than not. When he moves it away the vibrators start to shift.

The little bullet vibes against your nipples get stronger and start fluttering in different patterns. More than the vibrations themselves it’s the way that the difference in patterns makes it feel random. It’s hard to know which side is going to do what, and that uncertainty makes the teasing even better.

“Mmfh,” you squeak against the gag, trying to stay quiet.

“We’ve barely gotten into the country and we’re already picking up my favorite radio station,” Marco hums. The bumpy plug in your ass starts to shift and you tense, moaning again. You’re grateful for the cloth mask, even more than hiding your gag from the passing traffic, it was helping to hide the expressions on your face.

“Almost there, just a couple more adjustments, yoi.” The dildo in your vagina vibrates on a low frequency and starts to shimmy slowly inside you. You’ve barely adjusted to the plug in your ass and before you can even settle with the dildo the egg against your clit hits a fever pitch.

The powerful vibrations against your soaking clit surprises you, and you nearly scream, moaning loudly against the gag. The strong vibrations retreat to a low setting, and Marco sets them to a rhythm different from the two settings teasing your chest. Whimpering, you shift in your seat, trying to get comfortable despite the sensations.

His hand’s back on your thigh, pushing your coat’s hem up and rubbing just above where the thigh high stockings stop. You’re not moaning, but the toys have you breathing heavy against the gag, the odd muffled sound breaking against the gag when something sends a shiver through you.

“There we go.” He hums, eyes on the road. “Be careful not to cum without permission, pretty bird.” Marco warns, rubbing your thigh. “Would be a shame if I took that mask off, or revoked your coat privileges.”

The threat goes straight to your core, and suddenly all the toys are bothering you even more than before. It was difficult to say if Marco’s threats were empty or not. You knew he wouldn’t get the two of you arrested, but he probably would risk an awkward conversation with police if people filed reports.

Every stop light or stop sign, Marco’s hand would leave your thigh and change the settings of one or more of the vibes. If you stopped struggling, he’d adjust the toys. If you managed to shift in a way that gave you relief from something he’d tug on the ropes and readjust how things were settled. He didn’t hurl you toward an orgasm without giving you permission, but he didn’t let you have a moment’s peace.

As mean as he could be, he was still possessive and careful. One of the traffic lights put you next to a big long-haul truck. They were rare on the country roads, but even farms needed large deliveries or pickups. The trucker’s elevated position could give him a view into the sedan, and Marco had pulled your coat back over the ropes on your thighs, and made sure the coat was snug around your neck.

Once the truck was gone he unbuttoned the top buttons of your coat, and put his hand between your thighs, pressing the egg vibrator into your clit.

“Mmmfffh! Mmpphh!” Marco had unbuttoned enough to expose the rope harness at your neck and chest, but nothing truly indecent. The sudden exposure and the pressure of the egg vibrator made your heart race after almost thirty minutes of edging. “-‘ease, eeeaaaase,” you whine the garbled word, desperate for either permission or mercy. Shifting in your seat you moan and whine, letting the broken begging words out as Marco made no move to give you permission, or to show you mercy.

By the time he eases up on the vibe the lack of tension is almost worse. The vibrator is tickling your throbbing clit and you’re nearly in tears trying not to cum. Without his hand on your thigh you can adjust a little bit more and find some relief before you can’t take it anymore, but your body is on edge.

“We’re at the first stop.” He announces, pulling into a small park. The parking area is plowed, but between the empty lot and pristine snow it’s obvious no one else is there.

After parking and turning off the toys, he comes over and gets you out of the car. Standing you near it he has you move and stretch, helping you bend back and just having you stomp your feet. He checks that nothing’s going numb, the ropes aren’t biting anywhere, and once he’s sure you’re okay he picks you up princess style.

If anyone else were around you’d be worried about how the position has your privates almost on display, but you feel like Marco would keep you from being spotted even if the place was practically packed. He kisses your forehead as he carries you through the snow. It’s barely two or three inches, just enough to make a soft crunch and leave footprints with each step.

When he gets to a picnic bench he sweeps the snow off and sets you on it. Your coat is keeping you from sitting directly on the frozen wood, but you can feel the cold starting to creep in.

“I bet the reception here is perfect.” Marco hums, looking down at you as the vibes on your nipples whir back to life. “Don’t you think so, little radio?” He questions, the egg against your clit starting to shiver harder and harder. You moan softly, the break you got was enough that you’re not at the edge anymore, but you’re still riled up.

The vibes in your ass and pussy come to life, and the vibrations are loud - or louder than they were in the car. They’re vibrating against the wooden picnic table and it sounds louder than you expected. You look up at Marco in concern but he just turns them up. It only takes him a moment to have everything going. Different patterns for the ones on your chest, the dildos making a racket against the table are squirming inside you on top of vibrating, and the one at your clit is going as hard as it can.

“Sing well, little bird,” he commands, unbuttoning another button on your coat. You’re moaning and whining, squirming as he does as he pleases. Despite the cold you’re warm, the blood rushing through you at all the stimulation. “There you go.”

Marco’s eyes linger on you, but you see him looking around as well, ensuring you’re as alone as you thought you were. He unzips his pants, and starts palming his erect cock. Every minute or so he unbuttons another button on your coat, working himself up and reminding you not to cum without permission.

You aren’t sure which is more embarrassing, your own moans that are getting louder and more desperate as your body starts to tense, or the sounds of the vibrators beating against the picnic table. It felt like everyone in the county knew what you were doing.

Undoing the rest of your coat buttons he opens it wide, and you squeak, shaking your head. He takes the cloth mask off and pulls the gag out of your mouth, leaving the saliva-slicked device against your neck. Grabbing the back of your head he pulls you close, almost kissing you, but not quite.

“Please, Master-.”

“Color,” he husks, his own voice coming out in a breathy command.

“Green-yellow, green,” you say, moaning as the toys make your body shiver.

“You can cum after I cum on you.” Marco instructs, kissing you deeply for a second. Leaning back he looks into your eyes. “Don’t you dare stifle your song, pretty bird.”

You nod, eyes transfixed on the leaky tip he’s pumping with his hand. You wanted it inside you. Your mouth, your ass, your pussy, you didn’t care. You were hungry for him, and it was terribly cruel of him to show you what you wanted and not even let you touch him.

“Please, please,” you beg, you can feel yourself getting close, but you’re not even begging for your own release. “Cum on me, please, sir, please.”

“You want me to mark you, pretty bird?”

“Yes, please, cover me, master, please.” You beg, your mouth open, your tongue out. He’s not even going to finish on your face, but you can’t help yourself. The toys are hazing your mind, your own orgasm drawing near and you need more of him.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, hot spend splashing on your chest and stomach. Milking himself he cums on you as much as he can, and then grabs the coat, pulling it down and leaving you exposed before he grabs the back of your head and presses the egg into your clit.

“Cum.” He commands. “Sing for me right now little snow bird.” He growls the command, kissing your neck and holding you still as the orgasm races toward its peak.

Your body shivers against the rush of pleasure far more than the brisk cold. The vibrators against your nipples are almost biting against the stiff flesh, the vibrators buried inside you are sloshing wetly from your arousal, battering against one another and competing with the egg that pushes you quickly over the edge. Marco holds your head back so you can’t bury your lips into his shoulder, forcing you to wail your whorish moans out into the air.

You couldn’t hold them back if you wanted to, and you didn’t want to. You wanted to sing for him like he commanded. The keening cries turns into desperate shivering gasps, the sweet rush of release chased relentlessly by the manic toys beating against your body. Marco nearly pushes you into a second orgasm, bringing the vibrations down slowly as he watches your trembling body carefully.

“Much more and you’ll cry, yoi.” He hums, turning each toy off before pulling the coat back up and buttoning it in place. “Can’t do that on the first stop.”

“Haaa, that’s… this is… fuck.” You gasp, your voice shivering from the adrenaline. A nervous laugh dots your broken words and you smile at Marco before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“We’re just getting started.” He promises you. “Hang in there, sweet little bird.”

You nod, and he picks you up, carrying you back to the car. Once he gets you settled into your seat he puts the gag back in place, and the cloth mask over that. After he buckles you in he turns all the toys back on and turns them up to full. The brief break was enough to take the edge off of the earlier almost-overstimulation, but that’s kind of the problem.

Your whole body is tingling and there’s no rhythm or break. You want to ride the dildos inside you and cum, just to get it over with, because the vibrations are keeping you wound so tightly, but as Marco gets in the driver’s seat and puts the car back on the road, he doesn’t turn the vibrators down.

Moaning and panting through the gag, you wiggle and squirm and beg and plead as best you can for him to turn something down, anything. You’re going to cum and you’re not going to be able to stop it, but all he does is tap the tip of your nose and remind you not to cum without permission.

“Ah don’ ‘anna ‘um!” You beg, throwing your head back and trying to shake off the building pleasure.

“Then don’t cum.” Marco says easily, and you growl in frustration. You catch the smirk on his lips and whimper. “If you can make it to the next stop you’ll be rewarded.” He says.

“Ow ‘ong?” You ask, trying to shift enough to at least get the damn egg off your clit. The rest can almost be relaxing, especially since there’s no random pulses from the vibes teasing your nipples.

“Mmm, about twenty minutes.”

“’ENTY ‘INUTES?!” You weren’t expecting him to pull into the next empty lot, but that was a lot longer than you thought you could last.

“Well, now it’s forty. Want to complain more?” His face is smiling, but his tone is warning. You don’t play the brat with Marco much at all. Every once in a blue moon you like to push back, but more than anything you love to just fold in his hands, whatever shape it is he’s going to put you into.

“… ‘orry.”

His hand is on your thigh. “Hang in there, yoi.” Marco hums the words reassuringly, but his hand’s off your thigh within a couple minutes and all four of the bullet vibes against your nipples are set to different patterns. Even worse than the first time.

You try not to growl at the new predicament, but you can’t suppress the strained whimper. On top of all the sensations, his cum is drying on your skin, itching and catching against the cool smooth silky interior of the coat. It’s a new sensation on top of everything else and the more there is the less you can defend against.

Fifteen minutes and you’re doing good - or were. There’s a new problem.

Stopped at the train tracks there’s a long shipping train going by. It’s been a good two minutes already and there’s no end in sight.

“Just not your lucky day, is it, pretty bird?” Marco questions, and the rest of the vibrators start to writhe and shiver in patterns. Whimpering you try to shake the building pleasure away, but his hand on your thigh is limiting your motion, and pressing the egg into your clit more than the ropes do by themselves.

“Ease ‘emme ‘um!” You beg, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He’s watching the train as you thrash in the seat, completely unconcerned with the car behind you. “’Eeeeeaaase!”

“It’s not a matter of permission,” Marco says, turning to look at you. He wipes the tear out of the corner of your eye and gives you an apologetic look. “You have to make it to the next stop, pretty bird.”

“Ah, but this might be prudent.” He reaches over, taking the gag out, and pulling the mask back up over your nose. “This way if you need to call out a color it won’t get lost in the gag.”

“Please, Marco, please I’m gonna - I’m not going to be able to hold it back! Mercy!”

“Using my name, pretty bird?” He says icily.

“Master! Master, I’m sorry, please, I’m - shit, shit, I’m not going to be able to! It’s too much!” You whine, trying to wriggle away from his hand on your thigh, but it’s no use. You can’t leave the car in the first place, even if you weren’t tied up, Marco’s hand would be able to reach whatever it wanted.

“Maybe you’re overdue for a proper punishment.” He hums.

You don’t really hear him over your own struggle. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna - I can’t!” Your body tenses and you shudder against the vibrators, cumming hard. Biting your lip you growl, squirming inside your ropes as the orgasm you fought against claws through your body.

“Sorry,” you gasp, panting heavily as you start to come down from your high. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t - hnnngh! - please, I cah-can’t.”

“Shhh, shhh, you’re alright pretty bird. Just because you’re going to be punished doesn’t mean you’re doing bad.” He says soothingly, getting you to nod. “Hang in there, yoi.”

“Haa- yeah, I… please, the toys, Mar— Master, please, fuck!” You squirm, the relentless toys sending thrills into your sensitive skin harshly on the heels of the orgasm. At this rate you’re going to cum again.

“Oh, well, since you couldn’t hold it, now you get to cum until we get to the next stop. Over and over.” Marco puts the car into drive as the last car of the train passes by and the barriers lift, letting you continue on your way.

When he drives over the tracks your eyes roll back and you nearly orgasm again. You’re trying to desperately control your breathing so you’re not getting lost in too many orgasms, but it only takes five minutes for the next one to rock your world. Marco is relentless in keeping the egg against your clit, changing up the patterns and intensities as he drives, keeping you from being able to get used to any one particular set up.

At the third orgasm you’re sobbing, drooling, nearly growling swears as the pleasure circles around your bones. He’s made you cum back to back before, but never during a long session like this. It was cool in the car but you were starting to sweat from the exertion. There’s no pretense of trying to hide what’s going on, and if you weren’t tied up as much as you were you’d probably look like you were possessed.

“Gods-Fucking-Ass! Again, not again, shit, shit,” you squirm, hips bucking into his hand. “My ass, my ass, hhnnnnnnngh- it’s not-from-my-cunt-it’s-my-ass!” Growling you clench your teeth for a second as your body tenses from the anal orgasm and you start grinding into Marco’s hand. “Good, I’m good, I’m good,” you gasp the words because Marco was checking in on you between orgasms.

Your hair was sticking to your skin from the sweat and exertion. Your sounds were coarse and thick, pleading whines were more directed at yourself since Marco had already told you he wasn’t going to show you mercy until you reached the destination. If you really couldn’t take it you’d give him a color, but as much of a trial as it was, the orgasms were melting your mind and it felt amazing.

You were going to pay for them, you were sure, but you also knew that Marco loved the sounds you made. Whether you were begging, crying, or cumming at the top of your lungs. As long as your sounds, concerns, discomforts, pleasures and pains were his fault he was satisfied.

By the time Marco pulled into the next destination you were at the end of what you think you could take. The toys had been turned off, but your body was still twitching. Tears were drying on your face and you weren’t entirely sure how many times you’d cum, but you knew Marco kept watch over you, even while he’d been driving.

“How are you doing, my love?” Marco asks softly, his big warm hand cupping your cheek and pulling your gaze over to his.

“Good, m’good.” You mumble in response, nuzzling into his hand. “Lil’ yellow, maybe gimme a minute.”

“Of course. You need anything untied or removed?” He questions and you shake your head.

“Nah… no,” licking your lips you give him a weak, but genuine smile. “How long have you been planning this?”

Pink tinges Marco’s cheeks as his expression softens even more. “Years. Just… needed the right person to come into my life, yoi.” He explains, brushing sweaty hair off your face.

You can feel the heat rushing into your face, turning enough to hide in his hand. You hear him chuckle before he leans over and kisses the side of your face, getting you to stop hiding in his hand and letting him kiss your lips again. The sweet action sends the heat in your face back down into the rest of your body, warming you through and through.

“Ready?” His hooded gaze feels like it’s diving into your soul, and you nod shyly. “Good.” He kisses you deeply, tongue pinning you to the car seat, hand against your shoulder until you’re moaning into the kiss.

Getting out of the car, Marco gets you out again, this time putting you over his shoulder after removing the gag and mask from around your neck entirely and leaving them in the car.

“Oh no this is Whiskey Point.” You whine and Marco squeezes your ass.

“It is.”

Whimpering, you have a pretty good idea of what he’s going to do. Whiskey Point is notorious for the echo that rings out from it. School kids, usually at the start and end of the semester when the weather is really nice, come through as part of class field trips and shout their echoes into the air, giggling over all sorts of shenanigans.

To mark the best spot for this phenomenon, there’s a sturdy wooden lectern with a plaque on top that explains the point’s pleasures.

“No one’s going to know it’s you.” He says in what you suppose is meant to be a reassuring tone, as he sets you down by the lectern. He sweeps the snow off the stand completely, before taking your coat off of you entirely. Laying the silky interior of it down on the snow, you fidget and whimper, but now’s not the time to be asking questions or complaining.

Lifting you up he sets you, face down, on the cold stand.

“Cold!” You cry out involuntarily, flushing as you hear your voice flit over the landscape.

“We won’t be long, yoi.” He promises. “Count, pretty bird, loud as you can after each one. If you don’t give me your best shout I’ll have to come up with an additional punishment.”

“Yuh-yes sir.” Your breasts are cold, and so are your arms, your back, your ass, your legs - even the parts of you that aren’t pressed into the lectern are exposed to the cold air. You’re not sure if you’re shivering in nerves, anticipation, or because of the cold directly.

Marco’s hand lands sharply against your ass and the resounding clap almost sounds like a gunshot. You wait just a second for the echo to give you space and shout after it as loud as you can.

“One!” the word bounces around like the slap and you’re not as cold as you were before, embarrassment heating your body a little.

Another sharp crack, this time on the other cheek and you shout a count after it. Anyone within hearing distance is going to start putting two and two together, and anyone who knows will know what’s going on.

The third slap already stings, Marco’s not being gentle because time’s limited. By the tenth slap you know your ass is red, you can feel the sharpness of the sting, and the heat of your own skin from the strikes, but the whole situation is an intense turn on.

You moan. Loudly.

“Oh?”

“T-TEN!” You stammer, squeaking as Marco turns you over on the lectern. The cold wood feels wonderful against your heated ass, and you sigh in relief as he pulls the knot loose that’s holding your thighs closed.

Tucking the egg vibe into his pocket he cuts the crotch rope, and tosses the dildo into the snow. He takes a quick minute to work the anal plug out of your ass, tossing that into the snow too. You moan, softer this time, from the sensation, gasping as he grabs one of your ankles and forces your legs open wide.

“Wh-what are you doing?” There’s a focused look on his face, and while you trust him, you aren’t sure what he’s planning to do.

“Testing something, yoi.” With a practiced movement, he swings back and slaps your soaked pussy the same way he’d been slapping your ass.

The sharp clap isn’t as loud, and you’re sure he held back at least a little bit, but the snappy sting, the weight behind it drives right into your body. It hurts, sure, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure that rolls in behind it. The impact might not have echoed nearly as loud, but you moan in a way that more than makes up for it.

“Fuck,” you husk, body shivering for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold. “D-do that again, please.”

Marco’s brows raise and he smiles. “Not out here, yoi.”

Pulling you off the lectern he picks up your coat, shakes it once to dislodge any actual snow and puts it back on you. The interior has been made frigid, and you gasp at the sharp cold, whining and wiggling as he buttons you up. It’s part of the punishment, but also the cold does feel nice against your backside at least.

With your legs untied, he gathers the toys he tossed in the snow, the discarded bits of rope, and puts one hand on your shoulder to help you stay steady as you both walk back to the car.

“How’re you holding up? Still yellow?”

Shaking your head you smile as you get situated into the car seat. “Nah, I’m green. That was… unexpectedly invigorating.”

“Not much of a punishment then?”

“I did not say that.” You pout. “Feeling like someone had to have heard all that just… turned me on more than I thought.”

“Mm, well, we can even things out another day, and see just how much that pretty pussy of yours likes being slapped.” He declares, stealing a kiss as he buckles you into your seat and shuts you in. You’re already warming up the coat again, and you’re starting to get more comfortably warm.

Marco pops the trunk, tossing the items that are out of play into the back before getting into the driver’s seat. Without your thighs tied together, Marco’s fingers play in your wet folds ruthlessly. Anyone who can see his arm probably knows what he’s doing, and without the mask and gag there’s no way for you to hide your face entirely.

After your punishment you don’t dare to close your legs, you’re just grateful your coat is on and buttoned up fully at this point. Moaning and pleading with him within the confines of the car feels more private after you were screaming your head off at the echo point, and while other traffic is in the back of your mind you don’t really care about it.

“So nervous at the start, and look at you now.” Marco hums the words before plunging his fingers inside you, making you buck and cry out. “Being such a good whore.”

“For-for you,” you husk, rutting your hips into his fingers, your eyes are closed and you’re focused on the hot pleasure of his fingers.. “Juh-just for you, Muh-master, just a whore for you.”

“No one else.”

“No one else,” you repeat. “Un…. Unless you…” You can feel your face heating up, embarrassment rolling down your shoulders as you shrink into the seat. Marco’s fingers have stopped, and you don’t need him to tell you what it means. “I’d let you, you know, share me, if you wanted.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and you aren’t sure if you said something that was going to kill the rest of the session, but his fingers start moving again.

“You trust me that much, yoi?” You nod in response and he pulls his fingers out of you, putting them in your mouth. Licking his fingers clean as you drove down the road was the right kind of embarrassing. “Mm, maybe when the weather’s warm we’ll go back to that park bench. Can tie your pretty ass up on the table, face down on the bench and let any brave passerbys that approach use you.”

The idea makes you clench and you moan against his fingers. The warm chuckle you hear from him is a good sign and while you’re sure you’ll be talking details and limits later on, right now it’s fun to just sink into the fantasy.

You lick up the length of his index finger. “I don’t need anyone else but you, just so we’re clear.”

“I know, pretty bird.” He hums in response. “I do like the idea of getting to watch you.” He turns your head toward your passenger window and you see a young, wide-eyed guy at the wheel, face flushed red, looking back at you. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out as the light turns green and Marco turns down a different road.

“His friends are never gonna believe him.” You muse with a grin.

Marco smiles, rubbing your thigh. “Ready for the last stop, pretty bird?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, opening your legs and letting his hand wander where ever he wanted it to.

Marco drives for another half hour. When he asked his question you thought he was close to the stop, but as time carries on you can feel the anticipation knotting inside your stomach. He teases you, turning the vibes on your breasts off and on, fingering your pussy randomly, making you sit so it’s obvious that your legs are open, even if no one else can see inside.

By the time he pulls into a place you’re nearly in a trance, desperate for release, frayed from the length of the session and tense from trying to figure out what he’s going to do. Marco talks to you when he opens your door and it takes you a moment to focus on his words more than just his voice.

“With me yet, pretty bird?”

“Y-yeah,” you hum, leaning forward and nuzzling against his face.

“Good girl.” He praises quietly, kissing your cheek while helping you out of the car. “This is going to be intense, so don’t be afraid to call a color, even if you need to jump straight to red. I won’t be mad.”

“I know.” You answer as Marco presses your chest to his, reaching around and spreading your ass cheeks. You’re standing in the cold with him, but your backside is still to the car. You’re a little more aware now, but nuzzled into his chest you don’t know where you are.

He fingers your ass, adding more lube to what was already there from the toy. The action is sweet and pleasurable and you moan and whine softly into his chest. The toy’s been out for a while, but it had you loose and warmed up for long enough it doesn’t take him long to get you back there.

Marco undoes your coat again, this time setting it in the car before grabbing you by your rope harness and pulling you away from the car with ease, especially since your arms are bound he tosses you face-first into a pile of snow. You yelp in surprise from the action, and then cry out from the sudden cold of the snow against your bare skin.

Before you can do anything Marco’s on top of you, pushing his rock-hard cock into your ass roughly. It stings, despite the prep, but the stretch, the heat of him against you, the desperate need that had been building in your body since he started prepping you that morning was coming to a head.

You moan deeply, and Marco’s hands are on your shoulders, pushing you into the snow as he sets a heavy pace, fucking your ass for his pleasure more than yours.

“Cold it’s cold!” You cry, breath being shoved from your lungs with each slap of his hips into your ass. “C-cold, but- but it feels - Ah! ♥ - good! So fucking good!”

“Cum if you can,” he husks, grinding into you. His pace has slowed a little and he’s hitting all the places he knows you like. As harsh as the cold is, it’s nothing compared to what the situation and Marco are doing to you. “You’re clenching down so sweetly, pretty bird.”

“Don’t say that, don’t it’s - hah - embarrassing! I’m,” Marco grabs your hair, lifting your face away from the snow. You still can’t see anything but snow, and you moan as the vibes on your chest turn on. “Fuck, fuck, Maaaa-aster, I’m-.”

“Cum for me,” Marco commands, nipping at your ear. “I’m going to stuff ice cubes up your cunt and fuck you, look at you, loving this cold so much. Fill the tub full of ice and leave you in there until you start to turn blue, let you get to shivering so bad my touch feels like fire.”

“Gods, hnnnnnngh, no, no, please, I-!!” Your feet kick in the snow as your body tenses and you cum. Your pussy flutters against nothing, ass throbbing against his cock, the initial rush stole the air from your lungs, but you breathe in and cry out. The sound is desperate and guttural, clawing its way up from your lungs only to be shattered between your teeth as they clench against Marco’s continued thrusting.

You’d be clawing at the snow if your arms were free, but in a few more thrusts he’s driving you into the snow again pounding heavy in your ass. He feels hot, unbelievably hot and is throbbing deep in your ass, and the contrast is driving you mad.

“Hang in there, pretty bird.” He says, pulling out of you and rolling you over. Marco switches condoms so fast you wondered idly if he practiced just for this, or if he was always so quick and you just never had the focus to notice. The sharp cold of the snow on your back, however, was keeping your mind focused in the here and now, despite the lingering euphoria of your earlier orgasm.

He grabs your ankles and presses the back, folding you in half as he pushes easily, and deeply, into your pussy. Gasping, you moan, throwing your head back into the snow as he presses you down and hilts inside you. Soundly pinned all you can do is whine and moan with each deep thrust.

Every time you try to speak he kisses you. If you needed to call out a color you could scream it into his mouth, but you let his tongue shatter your words as his cock melts your mind. You’re going to cum again, your throbbing cunt was hungry for something after he made you orgasm from your ass and you were already sensitive from all the teasing and spanking of the day.

The only sounds you made that escaped Marco were your moans. There could be a crowd for all you knew, but you didn’t care, let them hear what he did to you.

The building pleasure is soft despite everything surrounding it. The build is inevitable, but your body is too tired for much more at this point. Garbled thanks bubble up in your mouth only to be devoured by Marco as your eyes roll back, and you spasm against him. He lets the babbling moans go, licking and nipping at your neck and collarbone. He fucks you through the orgasm, heavy, bruising thrusts pushing the air out of you and keeping you on the edge of pleasure until you’re whining and squirming beneath him in overstimulation.

You can’t stop the sob as your addled and abused body begins to overload.

“Please, please I can’t - can’t cum again, please, I’m begging,” you sob. Your tears are hot against your cheeks, more so because of how cold your body was. “Please, master, please.”

“One more, pretty bird,” he commands, words and lips sinking into your skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“Can’t,” you sob even though you can feel the tension in your thighs again. “Can’t, please, please just use me, and c-cum, please.” Your voice cracks between sobs and Marco kisses you, grinding into your clit and bullying himself as deep as he can.

“Fuck,” he husks, breaking the kiss and putting his forehead against yours. “Just like that, you’re so perfect for me,” he practically growls the words. “Crying so beautifully, you’re making me cum, pretty bird.”

His words go straight to your cunt and you cry. “No, no, I’m gonna - gonna!”

Marco grunts, snapping his hips roughly a few times as you cum with him. “Just like that, good girl.” His words sink into you with the euphoria of the forced orgasm and you can’t really hear or feel anything except for him.

-:-

The last orgasm had all but shattered your senses, and you were only vaguely aware of the ride home. Marco took care of you, talking to you the whole drive back home, which was short, since he’d been slowly circling back toward it the whole time.

He sat and soaked in the tub with you until you were both pruny, after he’d gotten you warmed up thoroughly and washed. You’d come around entirely by the time he was showering with you, and were able to lean against him and relax in the tub. You two talked about the session, things you definitely wanted to do again, new things you wanted to be able to try, and when Marco teased suspending you from a tree and leaving you in the snow you didn’t argue against it.

The most embarrassing part of the entire thing was the next day, when Marco brought you the newspaper during breakfast, pointing to something he’d circled.

MISSED CONNECTIONS: To the girl good at counting on the peak during Valentine’s; I’da given you ten more at least ~_^

#x reader #reader insert #marco the phoenix #mdni #love is in the air

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ringsofearth · 2 months ago

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⚘ here’s a shifting tip that helps me, and hopefully will help someone else!!

ꫂ ၴႅၴ when you’re missing your DR loved ones, finding yourself hung up on needing to be in your DR to see them, and desperately wanting to shift to see them, try this!

first of all, law of assumption is an extremely powerful tool when it comes to shifting (or anything, really). when missing those from your DR, try not to think of it as “i need to shift so i can see them” “i need to get out of this reality so i can see them”. instead, think of it like how you miss someone who is in your CR. when you and a friend you haven’t seen in a while make plans to hang out on a certain day, you fully anticipate getting to see them that day. you decide on what you are going to do with them that day, you adjust your schedule, plan an outfit, etc. you expect to and know you will get to see them that day, without a doubt.

𓍼ོ do this with those from your DR. anticipate seeing them the following day, later that night, or in a few hours (whenever the next time you set the intention to shift is!). live in the knowledge that you WILL see them then. you’ve set the date and time, you’ve decided your plans with them, and chosen what you will wear. now, all that’s left to do is let it happen and be excited!!!

if there is a specific event that takes place the date you arrive in your DR (such as you spending time with certain people at a party, gathering, class, etc.) you can even affirm things about them being busy that day, so you plan to see them at [event] tomorrow / tonight / whenever. i even do this right before my sleep method! i anticipate seeing them the next day at a festival — as if i am already in my DR, going to sleep as my DR self. for me, this helps dissolve the barrier in my mind that they’re a reality away — and instead substitutes it with the knowledge that seeing them is as close as tomorrow (or closer! however you choose to phrase it!). this can also help ground you to your DR (and to your DR self) with a simple assumption.

another key tip for this: don’t overcomplicate it! try not to think things like “i HOPE i see them tomorrow / today / tonight”. you WILL see them. in your CR, you don’t worry about whether or not your friend randomly decided to book a flight to another country the day you’re meant to hang out, right? so try to trust yourself, and your affirmations. even if you don’t fully believe them at first, trying is more than enough. and even the smallest bit of effort can go the longest way.

have faith in yourself. everything you desire is already yours, whether it is in this very moment or moments to come. it is yours, regardless. ❤︎

#desired reality #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting antis dni #shifting community #shiftingrealities #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifters #shifting diary

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shiorihyuga · 6 months ago

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Masterlist

This is my BACKUP ACCOUNT follow me @shiorihyugawrites for the latest updates to my fics❤️

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Note: I'm three chapters ahead on all my fics on Patreon :)

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Tides of Fate: In a world where powerful creatures known as sirens come to the shores of Paradis, the scouts are thrust into an unexpected alliance—one that is sealed through an ancient and seductive bonding ritual. Each siren has chosen a mate, and through their connection, the scouts are granted extraordinary powers. But with this newfound strength comes complexity, lust, and tension.

Steadfast Hearts: In the aftermath of war, Dr. Tiana Belrose, a brilliant Androsian engineer, arrives in Paradis with cutting-edge technology and her country's hopes on her shoulders. Assigned to be her guard, Captain Levi Ackerman, known for his discipline, finds himself drawn to her. As battles against Marley rage on, their unexpected romance blossoms amidst political intrigue and rising tensions. {Levi x OC}

A Soft Place: In a post-Rumbling world, where the threat of Titans no longer looms, Vanessa Sinclair finds herself living a quiet life, working at her family’s bakery in Wall Rose. Curvy and self-conscious, Vanessa has always faded into the background, overshadowed by her more outgoing friends. But everything changes when Captain Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest Soldier, begins visiting the bakery regularly. What starts as a simple exchange of tea and pastries quickly evolves into something more. Levi, drawn to her quiet strength and beauty, takes Vanessa on a journey that forces her to confront her insecurities, while learning that sometimes, what lies beneath the surface is more than enough. {Levi x Plus Sized OC}

Diamond Of The First Water: In the aftermath of war, Paradis seeks alliances, leading to a political marriage between Captain Levi Ackerman and Princess Solina of Valoria. Initially a strategic move, their bond deepens as they face royal customs, public scrutiny, and the looming threat of Marley. Both unprepared for the complexities of a political union, Solina's naivety and Levi's guarded heart are tested. As love grows amidst war and duty, they must overcome challenges that threaten to tear them apart. Will their love survive, or will forces conspire to keep them from finding peace? {Levi x OC}

The Devil's Bride: Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, reunites with him in Marley, reigniting an unexpected bond. After breaking her vow of pacifism to save Eren, they secretly marry before the Raid on Liberio, drawing Aurora into his chaotic world. As the Scouts learn of her, tensions rise, with Mikasa heartbroken and Levi demanding answers. Eren is determined to protect Aurora, the only light in his dark world. As war rages, Aurora must reconcile her gentle heart with Eren’s transformation, while he confronts the reality of who he’s become. {Eren x OC}

The Ballad Of The Magenta Witch (Coming Soon): In the aftermath of the devastating attack on Liberio, the scouts are desperate for new allies to secure Paradis' survival. Enter Mea, an enigmatic sorceress known as the "Magenta Witch," who harbors a tragic past shrouded in betrayal and magic that defies time itself. With her loyal and bizarre companion, Goldfish Levi—a goldfish transformed by immortality—they arrive at Paradis, bringing a storm of intrigue, power, and mystery. As Mea's allure and ancient power stir the scouts' skepticism and curiosity, tensions rise when she sets her sights on the stoic and battle-hardened Eren Jaeger. Amidst the looming threat of war and shifting loyalties, Mea must confront the ghosts of her past while deciding if a new bond is worth risking everything for. (Eren x OC)

........

Aot One Shots:

Eren:

Karma

The Dumpster Behind The Club

Levi:

Letting Go

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lurkiestvoid · 10 months ago

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You're being targeted by disinformation networks that are vastly more effective than you realize. And they're making you more hateful and depressed.

(This essay was originally by u/walkandtalkk and posted to r/GenZ on Reddit two months ago, and I've crossposted here on Tumblr for convenience because it's relevant and well-written.)

TL;DR: You know that Russia and other governments try to manipulate people online. But you almost certainly don't how just how effectively orchestrated influence networks are using social media platforms to make you -- individually-- angry, depressed, and hateful toward each other. Those networks' goal is simple: to cause Americans and other Westerners -- especially young ones -- to give up on social cohesion and to give up on learning the truth, so that Western countries lack the will to stand up to authoritarians and extremists.

And you probably don't realize how well it's working on you.

This is a long post, but I wrote it because this problem is real, and it's much scarier than you think.

How Russian networks fuel racial and gender wars to make Americans fight one another

In September 2018, a video went viral after being posted by In the Now, a social media news channel. It featured a feminist activist pouring bleach on a male subway passenger for manspreading. It got instant attention, with millions of views and wide social media outrage. Reddit users wrote that it had turned them against feminism.

There was one problem: The video was staged. And In the Now, which publicized it, is a subsidiary of RT, formerly Russia Today, the Kremlin TV channel aimed at foreign, English-speaking audiences.

As an MIT study found in 2019, Russia's online influence networks reached 140 million Americans every month -- the majority of U.S. social media users.

Russia began using troll farms a decade ago to incite gender and racial divisions in the United States

In 2013, Yevgeny Prigozhin, a confidante of Vladimir Putin, founded the Internet Research Agency (the IRA) in St. Petersburg. It was the Russian government's first coordinated facility to disrupt U.S. society and politics through social media.

Here's what Prigozhin had to say about the IRA's efforts to disrupt the 2022 election:

"Gentlemen, we interfered, we interfere and we will interfere. Carefully, precisely, surgically and in our own way, as we know how. During our pinpoint operations, we will remove both kidneys and the liver at once."

In 2014, the IRA and other Russian networks began establishing fake U.S. activist groups on social media. By 2015, hundreds of English-speaking young Russians worked at the IRA. Their assignment was to use those false social-media accounts, especially on Facebook and Twitter -- but also on Reddit, Tumblr, 9gag, and other platforms -- to aggressively spread conspiracy theories and mocking, ad hominem arguments that incite American users.

In 2017, U.S. intelligence found that Blacktivist, a Facebook and Twitter group with more followers than the official Black Lives Matter movement, was operated by Russia. Blacktivist regularly attacked America as racist and urged black users to rejected major candidates. On November 2, 2016, just before the 2016 election, Blacktivist's Twitter urged Black Americans: "Choose peace and vote for Jill Stein. Trust me, it's not a wasted vote."

Russia plays both sides -- on gender, race, and religion

The brilliance of the Russian influence campaign is that it convinces Americans to attack each other, worsening both misandry and misogyny, mutual racial hatred, and extreme antisemitism and Islamophobia. In short, it's not just an effort to boost the right wing; it's an effort to radicalize everybody.

Russia uses its trolling networks to aggressively attack men. According to MIT, in 2019, the most popular Black-oriented Facebook page was the charmingly named "My Baby Daddy Aint Shit." It regularly posts memes attacking Black men and government welfare workers. It serves two purposes: Make poor black women hate men, and goad black men into flame wars.

MIT found that My Baby Daddy is run by a large troll network in Eastern Europe likely financed by Russia.

But Russian influence networks are also also aggressively misogynistic and aggressively anti-LGBT.

On January 23, 2017, just after the first Women's March, the New York Times found that the Internet Research Agency began a coordinated attack on the movement. Per the Times:

More than 4,000 miles away, organizations linked to the Russian government had assigned teams to the Women’s March. At desks in bland offices in St. Petersburg, using models derived from advertising and public relations, copywriters were testing out social media messages critical of the Women’s March movement, adopting the personas of fictional Americans.

They posted as Black women critical of white feminism, conservative women who felt excluded, and men who mocked participants as hairy-legged whiners.

But the Russian PR teams realized that one attack worked better than the rest: They accused its co-founder, Arab American Linda Sarsour, of being an antisemite. Over the next 18 months, at least 152 Russian accounts regularly attacked Sarsour. That may not seem like many accounts, but it worked: They drove the Women's March movement into disarray and eventually crippled the organization.

Russia doesn't need a million accounts, or even that many likes or upvotes. It just needs to get enough attention that actual Western users begin amplifying its content.

A former federal prosecutor who investigated the Russian disinformation effort summarized it like this:

It wasn’t exclusively about Trump and Clinton anymore. It was deeper and more sinister and more diffuse in its focus on exploiting divisions within society on any number of different levels.

As the New York Times reported in 2022,

There was a routine: Arriving for a shift, [Russian disinformation] workers would scan news outlets on the ideological fringes, far left and far right, mining for extreme content that they could publish and amplify on the platforms, feeding extreme views into mainstream conversations.

China is joining in with AI

[A couple months ago], the New York Times reported on a new disinformation campaign. "Spamouflage" is an effort by China to divide Americans by combining AI with real images of the United States to exacerbate political and social tensions in the U.S. The goal appears to be to cause Americans to lose hope, by promoting exaggerated stories with fabricated photos about homeless violence and the risk of civil war.

As Ladislav Bittman, a former Czechoslovakian secret police operative, explained about Soviet disinformation, the strategy is not to invent something totally fake. Rather, it is to act like an evil doctor who expertly diagnoses the patient’s vulnerabilities and exploits them, “prolongs his illness and speeds him to an early grave instead of curing him.”

The influence networks are vastly more effective than platforms admit

Russia now runs its most sophisticated online influence efforts through a network called Fabrika. Fabrika's operators have bragged that social media platforms catch only 1% of their fake accounts across YouTube, Twitter, TikTok, and Telegram, and other platforms.

But how effective are these efforts? By 2020, Facebook's most popular pages for Christian and Black American content were run by Eastern European troll farms tied to the Kremlin. And Russia doesn't just target angry Boomers on Facebook. Russian trolls are enormously active on Twitter. And, even, on Reddit.

It's not just false facts

The term "disinformation" undersells the problem. Because much of Russia's social media activity is not trying to spread fake news. Instead, the goal is to divide and conquer by making Western audiences depressed and extreme.

Sometimes, through brigading and trolling. Other times, by posting hyper-negative or extremist posts or opinions about the U.S. the West over and over, until readers assume that's how most people feel. And sometimes, by using trolls to disrupt threads that advance Western unity.

As the RAND think tank explained, the Russian strategy is volume and repetition, from numerous accounts, to overwhelm real social media users and create the appearance that everyone disagrees with, or even hates, them. And it's not just low-quality bots. Per RAND,

Russian propaganda is produced in incredibly large volumes and is broadcast or otherwise distributed via a large number of channels. ... According to a former paid Russian Internet troll, the trolls are on duty 24 hours a day, in 12-hour shifts, and each has a daily quota of 135 posted comments of at least 200 characters.

What this means for you

You are being targeted by a sophisticated PR campaign meant to make you more resentful, bitter, and depressed. It's not just disinformation; it's also real-life human writers and advanced bot networks working hard to shift the conversation to the most negative and divisive topics and opinions.

It's why some topics seem to go from non-issues to constant controversy and discussion, with no clear reason, across social media platforms. And a lot of those trolls are actual, "professional" writers whose job is to sound real.

So what can you do? To quote WarGames: The only winning move is not to play. The reality is that you cannot distinguish disinformation accounts from real social media users. Unless you know whom you're talking to, there is a genuine chance that the post, tweet, or comment you are reading is an attempt to manipulate you -- politically or emotionally.

Here are some thoughts:

Don't accept facts from social media accounts you don't know. Russian, Chinese, and other manipulation efforts are not uniform. Some will make deranged claims, but others will tell half-truths. Or they'll spin facts about a complicated subject, be it the war in Ukraine or loneliness in young men, to give you a warped view of reality and spread division in the West.

Resist groupthink. A key element of manipulate networks is volume. People are naturally inclined to believe statements that have broad support. When a post gets 5,000 upvotes, it's easy to think the crowd is right. But "the crowd" could be fake accounts, and even if they're not, the brilliance of government manipulation campaigns is that they say things people are already predisposed to think. They'll tell conservative audiences something misleading about a Democrat, or make up a lie about Republicans that catches fire on a liberal server or subreddit.

Don't let social media warp your view of society. This is harder than it seems, but you need to accept that the facts -- and the opinions -- you see across social media are not reliable. If you want the news, do what everyone online says not to: look at serious, mainstream media. It is not always right. Sometimes, it screws up. But social media narratives are heavily manipulated by networks whose job is to ensure you are deceived, angry, and divided.

Edited for typos and clarity. (Tumblr-edited for formatting and to note a sourced article is now older than mentioned in the original post. -LV)

P.S. Apparently, this post was removed several hours ago due to a flood of reports. Thank you to the r/GenZ moderators for re-approving it.

Second edit:

This post is not meant to suggest that r/GenZ is uniquely or especially vulnerable, or to suggest that a lot of challenges people discuss here are not real. It's entirely the opposite: Growing loneliness, political polarization, and increasing social division along gender lines is real. The problem is that disinformation and influence networks expertly, and effectively, hijack those conversations and use those real, serious issues to poison the conversation. This post is not about left or right: Everyone is targeted.

(Further Tumblr notes: since this was posted, there have been several more articles detailing recent discoveries of active disinformation/influence and hacking campaigns by Russia and their allies against several countries and their respective elections, and barely touches on the numerous Tumblr blogs discovered to be troll farms/bad faith actors from pre-2016 through today. This is an ongoing and very real problem, and it's nowhere near over.

A quote from NPR article linked above from 2018 that you might find familiar today: "[A] particular hype and hatred for Trump is misleading the people and forcing Blacks to vote Killary. We cannot resort to the lesser of two devils. Then we'd surely be better off without voting AT ALL," a post from the account said.")

#propaganda #psyops #disinformation #US politics #election 2024 #us elections #YES we have legitimate criticisms of our politicians and systems #but that makes us EVEN MORE susceptible to radicalization. not immune #no not everyone sharing specific opinions are psyops. but some of them are #and we're more likely to eat it up on all sides if it aligns with our beliefs #the division is the point #sound familiar?#voting #rambles #long post

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