#at least not without changing everything else.

[local-demon-in-your-area]

Alright, this post has gotten super big and attracted tons of controversy and weird opinions so I thought I would clarify my position one last time :

No a militarized intervention, be it UN, US or whoever else, isn't a good idea. Bombs are never the answer, violence is never the answer, forcing an enormous change on people who's culture and ideas you don't understand is never the answer.

It seems the Malala Fund is seen as controversial for reasons that are unknown to me at the moment. In the meantime donating to Women for Afghan Women or to RAWA for those who can or want is still a good thing.

No Islam and religions aren't necessarily the problem. I am atheist myself, although raised in Christianity and while I absolutely believe that religion can be used and is used as a weapon in the world today, I do not believe that blaming them (instead of the people fostering an unsafe environment using them) is helpful.

Afghan Women don't necessarily want to live European/US women and that should not be the goal. The goal is for them to be safe, first and foremost, and have a choice as to what they want. The biggest thing that feminism can do is listen to Afghan Women. What do they need ? What can we provide ? They are the ones living in the situation, they know best than anybody.

Afghan Women being part of an Islamic culture doesn't mean that everything happening to them is normal or desired. The Taliban regime arrived by force and rules by force. Their society is not built on solid foundations, and without change it's certain that it won't last long. The problem is the damage they will do until it crumbles, and the damage that will be done while it's happening. The main victim of catastrophes are always the ones at the bottom of the social pyramid and in Afghanistan, it's Women. That's why we're fighting with them.

To clarify : I am against the very idea of a social pyramid. But because it exists, it has to be taken into account when deciding how to deal with things and how to provoke change.

I've had some wild comments about transidenty somehow so : to know if Afghan trans people are in danger, ask Afghan trans people. If you look at what witnesses and refugees are saying, all trans people are in danger. No they're not the danger. No transwomen are not just men trying to touch women by hiding as women. They face the same stigma as any other woman, and can be treated even worse when outed. How did you all decide they were the problem or that Afghan Women could just "become trans" to escape the oppressive regime like. How. Please. What the hell.

Stop being mean. I'm just a person who made a post on tumblr. This post may have gotten big but I still don't have the influence of other bloggers or people reblogging this post. I can't monitor everything. I can't even look at all the reblog because I don't have time. I can't answer everything. If you feel wronged because somebody said something in the reblogs, confront them, not me.

Once again I insist : I tried to educate myself but I can't guarantee I knew where to look and remembered it all correctly. Once again, I am just a random person on tumblr. If you think I should truly know something, you can go to my asks directly, otherwise there's a chance I won't see it. I don't know everything, be kind.

This post was made in the present tense but is in fact about the new law announced recently. Its details are unclear but it would essentially stop women from hearing each other pray (at least in public spaces) and other added things which many fear could lead to a total ban (if the details in the law don't immediately put it in action). As some have pointed out, women are currently still able to speak to each other in Afghanistan, but that may not last long.

I'm not american. Stop bringing the whole "Americans say this because they want to invade" argument, I'm not fucking American. I don't think of myself as a saviour. I don't think of myself as better. I just made a post about an info I saw that was bugging me, and needed to express just how wrong it felt somewhere. Don't assume I have or should have all the answers. I'm not even old enough to vote in my country. Keep that in mind when interacting.

This is one post out of hundreds people will see today. Yes it has an impact, but that doesn't mean it somehow makes me responsible for every single deranged idea somebody may have when seeing this. The average person will just like this post and move on with their lives, whether you think it's good or not. When interacting remember that I can't be expected to carry everything on one post's shoulder, nor that this post will somehow determine how people see Afghan Women for the next 30 years to come.

The amount of comments and people deciding that I was responsible for all of this because I made one fucking post about the subject is making me sick so. This is the last time I interact with my own post. I will stop responding or looking at reblogs and comments. I'll keep this post up because I do hope it reaches somebody who decides to donate or join local action to help but for the sake of my mental health (once again, just a random teenager online) I will not update it any longer.

And please remember that supporting local actions will always be more helpful than arguing with some strangers on the internet

This has been a psa or whatever

Women can't speak to each other in Afghanistan

Women can't speak to each other in Afghanistan

Women can't speak to each other Afghanistan

Women. Can't. Speak. To. Each. Other. In. Afghanistan.

No conversations

No hearing another woman's voice, no hearing her speak or pray

No way to share experiences no way to ask questions no way to organize

And if you ban education then they can't communicate by writing either

Women can't speak to each other in Afghanistan

Women can't communicate with other women in Afghanistan

People can't communicate with other people

That's how low we've gotten

Please don't forget about them.

[butterflyslinky]

It's been seven months. They've seen each other on calls, but they keep up a mask of stiff professionalism if they have to talk at all.

But now Buck's sitting in a gay bar, looking for some fun the same way he does on every 48 off. His expectations are low. No one seems to want a real relationship, not that he's really trying for one, ad the sex is mediocre at best.

Because none of them are Tommy.

He's two drinks in when he hears a familiar laugh and turns. There's Tommy, sitting four stools down and talking to the bartender. Buck wonders how he missed him entering the bar, but it doesn't matter. What matters is Tommy is here, so close, and Buck...

Okay, he'd jumped the gun asking Tommy to move in. And everything he's said before that had been...not great. Thinking about it, it's no wonder Tommy had hit the brakes. Though he maybe could have asked to just take a break instead of ending it completely.

Though it would have gone the same way, probably.

Buck knocks back his last drink and stands. He's steady on his feet as he makes his way down the bar and plops himself into the empty seat next to Tommy

Tommy doesn't look shocked to see him. Not happy, either. Just kind of resigned. "Buck?"

"Don't," Buck says. "I don't want..." He grits his teeth to force back tears. "I think we need to talk."

"Why?" Tommy asks.

"Because I have things to say to you," Buck says. "And I'm not going to let you just walk out again."

He's said all those things, in texts that sat unanswered, voice messages that were probably deleted without being heard. This time, he wants to make sure Tommy hears.

"I don't have a lot of time tonight," Tommy says.

"Then I'll say it fast. You broke my heart, Tommy. You said you were my first but not my last...but you weren't my first. I've dated and broken up before, I know what relationships are. Just cause you're a dude doesn't mean it was any different. As to not being my last, well, I've had plenty in the last seven months and none of them are going to be my anything. I told you they can be the same thing, and I mean it. I don't want to be in love with anyone the way I'm in love with you."

"Evan..."

"And if you don't want me, fine, but just say that instead of giving me some bullshit about not wanting your heart broken. Because I can't break your heart, Tommy. Maybe it's been seven months, but I'm still in love with you, and I don't see that changing any time soon." Evan looks down for a moment. "So...I know I'm a lot. I know I said some dumb shit. And I know there's a lot I still don't know. But I do know I want you to come home with me, and you don't have to stay, but...I want to try again. Now that I know a little more."

Tommy's eyes are bright when Buck looks up. "I can't."

"What?"

"Evan, I can't come with you tonight. Or any night."

Buck's stomach sinks. "Is there someone else?"

"No," Tommy says. "No, just...I got a new job. In Seattle...they offered me a command. A chance to be captain...don't get much more brave and trailblazing than that, do you, being an openly gay fire captain." He swallows hard. "I'm leaving on Monday."

Buck stares. The world seems to be tilting, even though he hasn't had that much to drink. "Oh."

"I thought you would have heard," Tommy says. "It's been kind of big news around the department."

"Everyone's been extra delicate with me," Buck says. "They don't talk about you where they think I can hear." He forces a smile. "Congratulations...you deserve it."

"Yeah?" Tommy says.

"Yeah. I'm happy for you." Buck waves to the bartender. "Put his drinks on my tab."

"Evan..."

"Least I can do. Since...since it's really over."

Tommy nods, but he looks sad. "Yeah," he says. "I guess I can just...start again. And I guess you can, too."

"Yeah," Buck says. "I guess I can."

--------------

It's a stupid idea, but Buck's full of those. He knows that it'll probably end in disaster, that he'll end up crawling back with his tail between his legs again.

But he has to try.

The airport looks just the same as it had when he dropped Abby off all those years ago. The same was it had been when he'd watched her walk out of his life, only to be seen again when it was unavoidable.

He's not doing that now.

Tommy is easy to spot, in spite of the crowd, standing in the check-in line. Buck thinks it must be kismet, that he's on time. There had been several flights to Seattle today, and he just took his best shot.

"Tommy!"

Tommy turns, and his brow furrows when he sees Buck. "Evan?"

Buck pushes his way through the crown, suitcase heavy in his hand, until he reaches Tommy's side. Tommy looks him over, then down at the bag. "Evan, what..."

"I know you said it's over," Buck says. "And that you don't want to try this again. And if you tell me to leave right now, I will. But I couldn't take the chance that I'd never see you again, even if you don't want to be in my life. And don't worry about work, Bobby transferred me to a different station than the one you're commanding, and I have a place to stay until I can find an apartment, and I'll get a new car since I gave the Jeep back to Maddie, but..."

"Evan," Tommy interrupts. "Did you just upend your life to follow me to Seattle?"

"Yes," Evan says. "If you'll let me."

Tommy stares for a minute before he pulls Buck into a kiss. And this time, Buck really knows it will be forever.

[m-ilkiee]

Game Over: Tetta Kisaki + Hanma Shuji

Pairing: Tetta Kisaki x Fem reader × Hanma Shuji

summary: you can run forever, but no one escapes their past or the consequences after.

warning(s): NSFW, dark content, smut, set in a Toman future, fem reader, dubcon/ noncon, character death, childhood bullying, kidnapping, depiction of cybercrime, human and sex trafficking, violence, drugging, power imbalance, threesome (mfm), finger sucking, fingering (f. receiving), oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, spit roasting, over-stimulation, dumbification if you squint dacryphilia, use of ‘slut, whore good girl’, blackmail, misogyny

word count: 7.1k words

r-18+ not suitable for 17 and below. mdni

layla's notes: ik this isn't a monsters update but I have to post something this month at least. thanks for 500+ followers btw. lets keep the fire burning.

[masterlist] [taglist] [main page]

TOMAN had brought an era of bloodshed, violence, and change to gangs and you saw it happen before your very eyes as they grew even more heartless, greedy and bloodthirsty with every passing victory.

It wasn't enough to just take down gangs at some point, they had to run down anyone that came in their way of continuous success or had any connections with them at all in the past.

Including your brother, that was six feet under.

As you stand in front of your late brother's grave, you can't help but think about everything that led him there. Since your parents died in an accident, your older brother became the breadwinner, doing illegal things just to send you to school and spoil you. You were helpful in creating gambling schemes at a young age and later during the age of the internet, creating even more ways to swindle people out of their money. Being the much more tech-savvy and intelligent sibling, you helped him out in arranging and mapping out easy targets to scam without getting caught, while he was the brawn of the team, street smart enough to get people to fall for it.

Sure, you weren't happy being a thief, but as long as it helped you both from starving, you would manage until the two of you could get a more honest way of living eventually.

He was your world, your everything until Tetta Kisaki came into your life and turned it upside down forever.

He would stay out so late at night and during the first few weeks of his new lifestyle, you would wait for him by doing all your homework until he'd come home, bruised knuckles, a bloody shirt, and the scent of smoke and metal assaulting your nostrils. Your brother's once happy expressions soon turned grim and he rarely paid attention to you when he was around, so you figured that it was just better you caught some sleep before you had school in the morning instead of wasting your time on bothering your elder brother.

Then strangers would troop into your house and ask about his whereabouts; they were menacing, imposing their presence on you as if to intimidate you into cowering away fearfully. You shocked them by giving them a curt answer followed by slamming the door in their faces. You owed them no respect and you feared nobody, not even the top shots in the gang world. Until tragedy struck and Kisaki showed you that he meant business when he sent your brother's mutilated body to your doorstep.

Now, you can't hear "Toman" on the news without your eyes widening a fraction and your body hair standing at attention. Your heart raced whenever there is another news of a gang crisis, especially those closer to Kyoto, thinking that Toman would decide you were the next to die.

You shake your head in dismal as you walk into the street, flagging down a taxi. You've laid so low all these years ever since, hoping that living quietly and working as a waitress in a small resturant would be enough to get them off your back. You had moved into a quiet rundown apartment and unless for work or to visit your brother's grave, you don't go anywhere else.

If someone had told you that you were going to live in so much fear all these years ago, you would have laughed at them to scorn. But look at you now, a shadow of yourself, all because your brother fucked around with the wrong people.

You push back your anger at the back of your head when the taxi halts in front of you. There is nothing you could have done differently in the first place to change your fate anyways, you were doomed to live like this till you either left the country or died trying.

You open the car and enter it half-hazard without thinking. The engine hums, moving away from the graveyard and onto the rather desolated pathway that led to it while you rummage through your purse for some cash. You hoped that it would be enough to get some food after you return from the bus stop and you can save the rest for your relocation.

Once you move to another country and start a new life there, you can finally have a semblance of normalcy after all you have gone through.

"Where to?"

"The railway station " You said absentmindedly, counting the cash in your hand. He hums in response, turning on the AC to cool down the hot interior, to which you are silently thankful to him, and you put the cash in your purse, sitting upright and leaning on the window.

A smile rests on your lips as you look out and see the lush green trees lining the street; you always did love nature a lot and times when your father would take your family to the forest for camping trips were one of your fondest memories. Your mother would yell at you for doing tree climbing competitions with your brother, saying something about being too reckless with your life.

It's been a while since you recalled that memory.

It suddenly popped into your head now as your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurs out. You don't like the way the trees are muddling with one another until it becomes nothing more than a green and brown mixture. You want to remember what happened after your mother yelled at you but your eyelids feel so heavy.

Your hands slipped from the tree and you remember falling straight to the floor with a loud shriek, like how you're falling into the dark abyss no matter how hard you tried to fight it. The only difference is, before you could open your mouth this time, your head hits the plush backseat with a dull thud.

'It's so dark'

IT didn't take much to realize you are blindfolded once you felt the soft cloth resting on your face.

You attempt to move your hands bound behind you, only to be greeted with a searing pain on your wrists, earning a hiss of pain from you.

You stop all movements when there is a loud 'clunk' on the door, followed by a creaking. A shiver goes through your body as the cold air assaults your scantily clothed skin, hairs standing as multiple footsteps echoes through the room. You could hear men talking loudly

"These are the people for the next sales Shuji-san. They were drugged as you requested."

'People?'

'Sales?'

'Shuji?'

You struggle to stay still despite your heart hammering against your rib cage hard. Your mind ran in circles while you thought of who else could bear that name other than the Reaper, the one person that made your blood run cold just with his presence. You were always his punching bag as a kid until your early teens because no matter how hard he hit, you would never faint like the other kids and he thought that was interesting. Your brother would only brush it off and tell you to hit him back if you really wanted your bully to stop.

You can never forget the feeling of his hand “punishment” on your face when you tried to defend yourself.

Whatever god could hear you, you prayed that whomever that man is, it shouldn't be Shuji Hanma.

"Good, because if I heard another bitch whining about how they want to go home, I would have put a bullet in their head."

Your blood ran cold on hearing the deep baritone reverberating in your eardrums. A sudden weakness overshadows your muscles and before you can control yourself, you feel something hot running down your legs, pooling around your body.

'No, no, no, no.'

Horror slowly set in the moment the two men turned their head, eyes raking from your shaking figure, to the liquid pouring down your legs to the floor below you until it ceases completely. The silence that follows is deafening, your mind is racing with last prayers and pleas of mercy are spilling out of your lips before you could stop yourself. Your screaming and begging for him not to shoot only gets louder with the rustling of clothes and the cocking of a gun probably aimed at you.

Maybe it was better to die this way. A quick shot to the head before Hanma can recognize you and prolong your death was much better.

"I thought you said you drugged all of them. So…"

It was obvious Hanma is pissed, you've spent enough time around him to know that his voice deepens a few octaves when he's really furious to the point he is out for blood.

This time, he is really going to kill you.

You hear stomping, the light splashes of something wet between your thighs and the imposing presence of a bloodthirsty man squatting over you. You can feel your body go into overdrive with terror once the cool metal meets with your forehead in a gentle kiss, tears rolling down your cheeks while he spoke;

"...why is this one still talking?"

Dread fills you when he adjusts the gun on your head, and you register in your head that the next thing that comes out of your lips is going to be your last. You don't comprehend when the words tumble out of your trembling lips until they are out of your lips.

"You're also going to kill me too, Hanma Shuji?"

You wait for Hanma to pull the trigger, but the click doesn't come. Instead, the cool metal of the gun barrel leaves your forehead and is replaced with deft fingers tracing lines on your face before grasping your chin in a vice-like grip, forcing your faces to be inches from each other.

Your heart rate has skyrocketed to the point of no return as you feel his intense gaze burning holes into your exposed skin. Your body violently shakes as you imagine what kinds of ways he would want to murder you.

"That whiny voice, I'll be damned…"

You flinch when the blindfold is snatched over your head. Your eyes slowly adjust to the dimly lit room that you found yourself in, now looking directly at the man squatting in front of you. It's the same black hair with golden streaks, now falling on his forehead instead of standing straight up.

He's wearing a pinstripe suit, something you never imagined him wearing in your wildest dreams, the glasses perched on his nose and encased his eyes would have given you the wrong impression that age mellowed him out, if his purple irises weren't so blown out of proportion in glee as soon as he recognizes you.

His laughter is mocking and loud, ringing in your ears and echoing around the room. Hanma lets go of your chin, letting your head hang in shame and fear, still barking loudly at your humiliating position. Tears sting your eyes again and they stream down your face, which seemed to amuse him even more.

The gun makes a harsh contact with your temple and your head twists to the side while you bite your lip to stifle the cry of pain threatening to escape your mouth. Your vision blurs out for a bit, before coming back and blood rivulets dribble from your head, down on your shoulders.

'Is he going to beat me to death?'

"So that hard head of yours still is useful after all?" He laughed at your pathetic state, tapping your face lightly with the gun, before hitting you across the face again, hard. The force made you bite your inner cheek and blood pooled in your mouth this time around, spilling from your lips. "You've always been such a good punching bag. Well, my favorite punching bag. I missed you so much. How are you coping after I killed that waste of space you called a brother?" He smirks, now grasping your bloodied face in his hand marked “sin.”

Now you remember why you hated Hanma the most out of all your brother's friends.

When you don’t answer him, Hanma clicks his tongue and violently pushes your head back to hit the wooden pole behind you with a loud thud, before getting up and signaling the man who had been standing across the room to come forward. 

"This one is coming with me."

He adjusts his suit and tie, placing his gun in his suit pocket. "Get her cleaned, and send her to my house." Hanma turns around and smiles at you one more time, sending shivers down your spine. "She's a tough one, give a stronger dose." His smile becomes even more sinister and evil when he finishes his sentence. "And a little something else."

Before you can comprehend what he said, a sharp pain pricked your arm and you soon drift into darkness once again.

"I'm sure Kisaki is going to love seeing you again."

‘Fuck’

YOU wake up to find yourself in the interior of a completely unfamiliar moving limousine, clothed in nothing but a sheer lingerie that clung to your skin, bringing out your breasts and hugging your curves, coupled with being gagged and a collar attached onto your neck

You remember briefly waking up halfway in the middle of a huge bathtub, your entire body scrubbed raw by multiple people who now, you assume was Hanma's staff. In your hazy state, you could recall seeing him watching everything with careful eyes, and with him someone that awfully looked like an older Kisaki Tetta, who was rather surprised seeing you after all these years. Words like "bidding", "sales" and "customers" echoed around your head, before you drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

What had happened to you while you were out of it? How did you get here? And why did your body feel so hot and bothered, to the point the new underwear you had on was soaked?

Kisaki, who is sitting opposite you, is the first to notice you have woken up, eyebrows raised at you while Hanma is on the phone talking about something you cannot understand. He merely turns his head to make eye contact with you and smirks before he continues what he was talking about.

"You're awake." Kisaki voices out, now reaching out to touch your cheek, bringing you back to reality. You wince when his fingers brush against the bruised part of your cheeks, hidden by makeup, before he grabs your chin to further inspect your face. Every touch made your body react in some kind of way that got you extremely confused, to the point you're rubbing your thighs against each other to try and relieve yourself.

Sure Kisaki had gotten attractive over the years despite being the shit stain that had orchestrated your brother's murder, but you do not still think of him in any way that is sexual.

Right?

This is wrong; now is not the time or place for you to be this extremely horny or needy for sex and especially not with someone as vile as Kisaki or Hanma, who is clearly enjoying your suffering as he watches you grind against the plush leather seat from the corner of his eyes with a smug grin.

Not when your life it at stake.

"You shouldn't have hit her too hard," Kisaki scolds Hanma, still observing your bothered and flustered features, even though he is only doing it for the fact that he hated having to explain anything to anyone, not that he cared about you. "I don't like my goods damaged at all, not when I'm about to sell for a good price."

'They're going to sell me?'

"Mmhmh '' you muffle, shaking your head in disagreement. Kisaki raises a brow at you again, before momentarily pulling off the gag to hear what you are trying to say. You pant heavily, spit dripping down your chin like a wild dog before looking Kisaki eye to eye while begging him. "Don't sell me please! Do what you want with me, but please don't sell- mmhmphf."

"Much better." Kisaki mutters after putting the ball gag back in your mouth. "I always hated hearing the sound of your voice. There's never a time you weren’t whining like a bitch to anyone that would care to listen."

You hang your head in shame, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. Your head feels woozy at the thought of getting sold off to some random man in a club who would do god knows what with you. Your body still feels hot and needy from one of the numerous drugs that was forced into your mouth while you were fading in and out of consciousness, and you can't focus on anything without rutting your hips against the plush car seat or squirming around.

This isn't a situation you can run from anymore. No, this time, you're trapped and no one is coming to save you

KISAKI can't help the feeling of power coursing through his veins as he paraded you around the VIP section of one of Toman's biggest clubs with Hanma by his side, a leash around your neck and lingerie that only seemed to accentuate your curves.

This is all he's ever wanted; Power to make any and everyone who had blocked his path or stepped on his toes in any way to pay for it. You had been one of them, thwarting his plans to make your brother the leader of one of his side gangs to move his plans forward, which seemed to be what mellowed your elder brother down whenever Kisaki thought he had the idiot underneath his thumb.

You were such a thorn to Kisaki's side for so many reasons, from your wagging tongue to your body and those atrocious clothes when you were younger that only seemed to hug your body or reveal a bit too much when you're prancing around the house. Those hateful eyes of yours glaring at both him and Hanma whenever they came around.

Kisaki hated to admit that he fantasized about you sometimes when he pleasured himself in moments of weakness.

You were something forbidden, an unreachable, non-negotiable thing that Kisaki couldn't afford to get his hands on because he needed your brother on his side. The power you held over him made him feel weak and irritated, that of all people, you would sink your filthy claws underneath his skin and rile him up.

To see the once proud and haughty (name) being treated like a pet - his pet that he could get rid of at any time for a huge amount of money, had his cock slightly twitch in his pants.

"You know, we can keep her."

Kisaki turns his head to face his right hand man standing beside him, Hanma's greedy eyes flitting from the flesh of your ass to Kisaki's face before he continued his suggestion. "I've got another one, a girl, on standby in case you change your mind." He shrugged. "You know that (name), as much as she's a bitch, she can be of some use to us."

"Hanma," Kisaki begins in a cold voice, clearly tired of Hanma's persistence in keeping you, his eyes narrowing. "If it's a whore you want, you can call one from your con-"

"Kisaki, you know that's not what I'm talking about."

For the umpteenth time tonight, Kisaki Tetta goes completely silent. In his head, Kisaki regrets ever telling Hanma that you had actually gone to University, the last update when he could still track you, a dream you achieved because your brother was selling information from Toman to the police. You were always very good at technology  and things that had to do with the internet, an area Kisaki himself lacked in and hated you for being better.

All these years he wasted time with your useless brother, when you were the real goldmine.

Kisaki notices that you are slowly giving into the aphrodisiacs after fighting it for so long, and the greedy eyes of all the important wealthy men that happened to come to this shady club are fixated on you. Anger begins to bubble in his chest when you begin to bat your lashes at one of the men to help you relieve your urges and without giving it a second thought, he yanks your leash as a warning, tightening the collar around your neck. You muffle in pain and stumble, before turning your head to look at him with apologetic eyes.

Hanma doesn't miss the way Kisaki tucks his free hand in his suit pocket to hide his boner.

"We both know that Toman needs someone modern, especially someone that would be most loyal to you. With the police now putting more tracking devices and bugs in our system, we need her to combat it. She already escaped being found the first time by removing her own information out of all systems." He continues, eyes now resting on your trembling figure, struggling to walk straight towards Kisaki's private room. "Unlike that idiot of a brother, (name) is intelligent. She knows what is really at stake."

Hanma leans in and says something only to Kisaki's hearing. "Say the word and I'll make (name) follow accordingly, like old times."

Why Shuji Hanma will always be useful to Kisaki is that he knows him like the back of his calloused hand.

Kisaki glances at you once more, contemplating on Hanma's suggestion. Your market value working for Toman is worth more than whatever those old perverts could pay him, supposing you would be good and do as he says. Under his supervision, Kisaki can hold more power beneath his thumb with your help, that much he knows.

"Like old times."

YOUR knees hit the plush rug the moment Kisaki pushed you inside one of the executive club rooms. From the corner of your hazy vision, you can see the blonde haired man walking past you and sitting on the king sized bed right in front of you, his legs on either side of you in a manspread. The door behind you clicks shut and you hear heavy footsteps walking towards your direction before stopping behind you.

"Look at me." Kisaki commands.

You hesitate to follow his command, still trying to control your breathing after being tossed around and choked by that damn collar still on your neck. Hanma is quick to correct you by wrapping his hand on the leash and yanking it back, forcing your head upwards to face Kisaki. Your strangled cries of pain come out muffled to the amusement of Hanma, who doesn't let up with his grip on your throat until Kisaki signals him to ease up a little. Your head falls a little, but it is high enough for Kisaki to look you in the eye and drive home his point.

"You're still as stubborn as I remember," Kisaki scoffs, his hand placed on his chin, amber eyes gazing down at your tear stained face and trailing down to your lipstick smudged with spit from being gagged for so long. "you’re lucky you’re hot." He cradles your face contorted in discomfort with one of his large well-manicured hands and goes ahead to stroke your cheek with it.

It's the most gentle way Kisaki will treat you tonight.

At this point, you don't care what Kisaki would do, not when your body can't handle the pain of being so bothered and your mind is clouded by so much lust, you aren't thinking straight. It pains you to know you are susceptible to whatever he places on the table and you cannot control the narrative this time around.

You shiver when his hand unclasps the ball gag from behind your head, pulling it out of your mouth and throwing it aside. You do not break eye contact with him when he puts two fingers in your mouth and tells you to "suck"

A warning tug on your leash from Hanma is enough to make you obey Kisaki's order without hesitation. You swirl your tongue around his fingers, bobbing your head up and down the digits with blown out eyes as the tip of his expensive shoe nudges your clit lightly.

Electricity shoots through your veins from your lower region and you quickly place your cunt above his shoe, lowering your thighs to rest your clit above the shoe just to get that rush again. Kisaki's breath hitches on seeing your dangerous, lustful gaze.

The sight of you being needy to cum has his dick hardening by the minutes, pre leaking from the tip at such a dirty scene.

Hanma is no better, he's impossibly hard from watching your ass move and jiggle when you grind Kisaki's shoes and if he isn't careful, he might actually get off from this.

It's humiliating, the way he has you desperately humping his shoe to get off while sucking off his fingers and yet, you can't stop yourself.

Kisaki pulls his fingers out of your lips and trails them down between the valley of your chest where the lingerie is tied in the middle and with the flick of his wrist the front opens, exposing your bare chest to him. Hanma kneels beside you, not letting go of your leash and leans in to meet your trembling lips in a hot kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and playing with yours. Kisaki's hand finds your breasts and gives a light squeeze with his calloused thumb grazing against the nipple, earning a muffled moan from your lips to Hanma's.

"Aren't you obedient?" Hanma mocks the moment he pulls away and stands upright, loosening the collar on your neck. You bite back any insult that crosses your mind when he adjusts his suit and heads off to the door. "Kisaki, I'll handle the auction tonight, my phone is buzzing with those greedy old farts calling me," Hanma says to his friend, before turning to look at you condescendingly, his lips in a crooked smile when he opens the door and nods at you. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

You do not get to think much about what Hanma said the moment the door clicked shut because your back collides with the plush rug on the floor and Kisaki attacks you with harsh kisses from your jaw to your neckline. His teeth dig in between your neck and your jaw, earning a soft gasp from you that soon turns into moans of "more Kisaki" when his lips suckle on the bites. You take advantage of his thigh between your legs and you drag your wet cunt over it with nothing but the need to cum.

His hands are greedy and impatient when they find your breasts again, capturing them in his two large hands and letting his thumb roll around the hardened nipples as he fondles them. "Desperate whore. Humping my leg like the damn dog you are."

Every word leaving his lips to your ears is like fire on your skin, only riling you up while you grinded his thigh to get off. Your moans are music to his ears, begging him just to help you out with this burning sensation in between your legs, even if it's just a little.

"All the times you'd wear those -fuck," He presses a wet kiss onto your lips and the taste of the cherry lipgloss he picked for you had him weak in the knees. "-those revealing clothes like a trainee whore whenever we came over to see that bastard you called a brother," He huffs, pulling himself off your body before kneeling in front of your legs. He grips your ankles hard, nails digging into your flesh. "with that stupid attitude of yours, it always set me off."

You gasp when Kisaki pries your thighs open further without putting much effort. You've always thought that there was no ounce of strength in Kisaki's body, since he was nothing but a coward that made everybody do all his dirty work for him while he remained uninvolved and unscathed. Seeing Kisaki inspect your clothed soaked pussy while holding your legs apart by your ankles was clearly a rude awakening.

Kisaki really holds the power here and all you could do is moan like a bitch in heat if he as much as blows air on your cunt.

"Pathetic," your legs tremble at the sound of his scathing voice as he positions himself in between your legs. Your eyes widen a fraction on seeing his cock straining against his slacks, the size clearly shocking and scaring you a bit.

"A little pill got you this wet for me," He pushes your legs nearer to your chest, making you even more uncomfortable with the position he's trying to put you in. "I guess I was always right about you being a slut all along."

You move your mouth to protest when the door flies open and slams shut behind Hanma. "I got Akuun to handle it- woah," his eyes flicker to your folded figure, a sick smile creeping on his darkened pink lips. "didn't know you're that flexible, good grief." He commented, falling on his knees beside your head. Hanma grabs your calves to maintain your position and Kisaki releases your ankles before grabbing the crotch of the lingerie.

"I'm not!" You whimper softly, turning your head away from Kisaki's focused gaze to hide your embarrassed face. A loud "rip" of the material courtesy of Kisaki tearing it off, followed by Hanma pushing your legs to your chest, exposing your wet pussy for the two men to see only seemed to further your humiliation and your need to be fucked.

Now.

"You will be soon." Kisaki mutters to your hearing, his long fingers parting your folds a bit before sliding his ring and middle finger inside your sopping folds. You thrash around at the foreign intrusion, cries of "wait…wait…wait…" escaping your lips while Hamna holds you down by your calves. "Shh shh, you can take it." Hanma coos at your teary expression, now clamping down on your calves hard and folding you into two.

The initial pain of his intrusion slowly gives way to pleasure as he works your pussy open, fingers curling against your spot. Kisaki uses his thumb to play around with your clit, his fingers moving simultaneously with every thrust and rub. Your breathing becomes heavier, eyes rolling back to your head as Kisaki inches closer to your g-spot.

"Deeper." You moan, your back arching slightly. "Go deeper Kisaki, please." You beg and Kisaki complies, adding a third finger into your pussy and curling them into a specific spot that has your back arch perfectly. "Yes, yes, more, more." You cry out, body trembling with every thrust that touches your g-spot. Kisaki can't get enough of finger fucking you or rubbing your pulsing clit wuth his thumb; the sight of you writhing underneath him, begging him to keep going had him hooked.

"What a fucking whore." Hanma curses underneath his breath, his grip on your thighs tightening as he struggles to control himself and his aching cock. "You gonna cum on his fingers like a slut?" He taunts, spreading your legs wider for him.

"Yes, oh yes-" you sob out, tears are practically rolling down your cheeks once you reach your high.  "I can't … I need to cum, need to…"

Your pitch is high and your pussy flutters around Kisaki's fingers when you finally cum. It feels hot and for a moment, you can only see white before your vision returns to normal when you come down. A "thank you" escapes your lips, accompanied with a sigh, your shoulders heaving as you catch your breath.

Kisaki's fingers are slick with your essence, entranced by the sticky substance that coats his fingers when he pulls out of your cunt and he taps your lips with them once again. "Taste yourself." He commands. You gratefully lick up his fingers and engulf them in your mouth, suckling with a satisfied "mmh" from your lips.

"Good girl." Shuji murmurs, watching Kisaki pull out his fingers from your mouth with a loud 'pop' sound. Was this all it took to make you pliant? Getting you on your back and finger fucking you? Making you cum?

Was it really that easy?

His aching cock brought him back to reality. Whether you're pliant or not wasn't what mattered now; he just needs to blow his load anywhere in or on you.

One minute, your legs are against your chest in a mating press and the next minute, you feel Kisaki and Hanma flipping you on your hands and knees, bare cunt facing Kisaki and your face buried into Hanma's slacks. Simultaneously, you can hear belts hitting the floor and zippers going down. Hanma's cock, pale, veiny and long with an angry purple tip hits your lips lightly, as if telling you what he's thinking. You can feel Kisaki's heavy cock leaking with pre resting your inner thigh, teasing your sensitive clit.

Was this really happening? Two of them at once?

"What's the matter (name)," Hanma asks with faux sympathy, stroking his cock with his large palm. He can see the panic in your eyes as the situation dawned on you. "you're a big girl, you can take it right?" His eyes narrowed at you while using his tip to slap your lips lightly. At the same time, you can feel Kisaki line his cock against your entrance with one hand and gripping the flesh of your ass with the other. "You can take us, right?"

You want to say no, but you know it won't matter to them.

"Doesn't matter," Kisaki's voice is cruel as he pushes the tip of his cockhead against your ring of muscles. You choke out a sob from being stretched out after a long while of not having sex, begging for Kisaki to stop while he sheaths himself inside your wet walls. "You will take us, even if I have to teach you how."

You gasp the moment Kisaki sheaths inside your cunt fully and Hanma takes this as an opportunity to slip his cock into your waiting mouth, hitting your gag reflex intentionally. You can barely breathe, or think or move with all the excruciating pain of being split open and taking such a huge cock in your throat. It's too much, even as the pain is giving way to pleasure, you are not sure if you can handle what will come next.

Kisaki is the first to move, drawing out his dick completely, before slamming back into your cunt, emanating muffled moans from you. Hanma is just as unforgiving, from shallow thrusts to pressing your head against his hairy pelvis whilst fucking your throat hard.

The noises from the room are nothing short of sinful. The slapping of skin against skin as Kisaki picks up his pace. He's horny and he wants to devour you over and over again as he pounds into your wet carevan, hands digging into your ass with every thrust and squelch. "You like that?" He mocks you, breathing getting louder as he hits it from the back. "You like how we fuck you like a slut?"

You want to shake your head no, but Shuji's pacing is beyond human. He's face fucking you with a certain precision, your breathy moans from Kisaki abusing your g-spot sending vibrations down his cock with every thrust. "She loves it… She loves being bullied by two cocks like the whore that she is." Hanma grunts, rocking himself back and forth in your mouth. "You're gagging way too much, relax that throat or you'll choke to death sweetheart. Breathe through your nose."

You follow his instruction, trying to relax a little and breathe through your nostrils. "That's it, good girl."

You need to at least survive this night.

Kisaki's left hand circles around your waist until his fingers are in contact with your clit again. You feel your legs quiver in anticipation the moment he brushes a thumb over it, before rubbing tight circles against it. You moan, eyes rolling back as your senses go into overdrive.

"Shit, all these vibrations are gonna make me-" Hanma is the first to cum; hips stuttering as he pumps himself into your mouth, head thrown back, cock twitching and a loud "fuck, fuck, fuck". The hot salty semen pours down your throat soon after as he fucks himself through his high until he is spent, dragging out his flaccid cock from your lips.

Post bliss Hanma leans back on the bed, patting your head somewhat affectionately while he gathers his senses and tucks his cock back. Your relief is short-lived when you feel Kisaki thrust deeper than before, knocking the air out of you. Hanma finds pleasure in seeing you fucked out, unable to form coherent sentences while Kisaki bottoms out into you. "You look so pretty like this babe, keep it up." Hanma coos at you, running his thumb over your lips.

You've never felt so much intense pleasure, your toes are curling with the angle Kisaki is fucking you, his fingers playing with the sensitive bundles. The way Hanma is staring at you, whispering all those dirty words to your hearing, everything is too much for you.

"I'm gonna- Kisaki pull ou-"

Your legs tremble yet again and Kisaki lets you ride your high on his cock. "That's it, let go, let it all go," his voice shakes and his hips stutter, chasing his own high. Your breathy moans and his heavy pants bounce through the room as you two cum together until you're both well spent.

Heavy breathing echoed through the room as both you and Kisaki tried to catch your breaths. The aphrodisiacs in your systems has worn off from you and you collapse on the floor weakly the moment Kisaki pulls out from your cunt. You feel him eyeing the cum leaking down your cunt to your thighs and staining the carpet while adjusting his pants and belt.

Post nut clarity hit you hard, you had just been fucked senseless by the two people you despised the most.  You feel humiliated that Kisaki and Hanma of all people have reduced you into a cum dump.

The two people who killed your brother.

"Can you stand?" Hanma knows you can't, not with the way your body lays helpless on the floor, but it's just like him to ask after ruining you. When you don't give an answer, he kneels beside you and pulls you up by your arm, slinging you over his shoulders.

He looks at Kisaki, who is standing over the telephone and speaking to room service. "I'm going to get this one cleaned up and possibly back to her senses again." Hanma states and Kisaki nods in approval. "I'll talk to her, give me a minute to call Manjiro." He replies, putting down the landline.

The next thirty minutes blurs out. Hanma puts you on the toilet and tells you to urinate while he sets the bathtub and you numbly comply. When he is sure it's ready, he picks you up from the toilet seat into his arms and lowers you into the bathtub gently. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." Hanma advises, his purple eyes flickering to your spaced out eyes. "Not that you can do shit in this state."

The door shuts and you are left alone for the first time throughout today. You overhear voices talking in hushed tones about you in the other room and you decide to tune out whatever they had to say.

Not even death could be worse than what had just happened to you now.

Hot tears pour down your cheeks unconsciously and you don't bother to wipe them off, even when the door opens again. Kisaki and Hanma walk into the bathroom again and you sink into the bath water further to hide your shame, hanging your head low.

Kisaki stands beside the bathtub and makes eye contact with you, an odd glint in his eyes. It's satisfying to see you broken and lonely, with no one else to depend on but him alone. "I hear you're good with technology. So good, you wiped your name out of every record, like you never existed. It was hard to look for you, you know." He is nonchalant and it irks you, but you say nothing. "You should know where I'm going with this. Not like you can run away from me ever again."

Your tone is bitter, but controlled and soft. "You want me to work for you. After what you just did to me."

"Manjiro wanted you dead but I put in a good word for you. Be grateful."

You scoff at him, hugging your knees to your chest in the bathtub. "Maybe you should listen to your leader."

Kisaki narrows his eyes at you and before you could apologize, Hanma's palm connected with your face. Your head snaps to the side and you cry out, grimacing in pain as your hand flies to your hurt face. Kisaki leans in again, now eye to eye with your teary, fearful eyes. His voice is cold and leaves no room to even argue with him anymore.

"I can kill you, or I can let you go and post that video of you whoring yourself out to me with only your face showing." Your face drops in horror when you realize he recorded you. smirking. "No one will ever give you a job. Not here, not outside Japan. Nowhere. No one wants a whore in their IT department. So you're going to be useful and buy my silence by throwing off the police from Toman's trail."

Hatred burned in your guts. Hatred for yourself, cowering in fear that Hanma would hit you again if you don't comply. Hatred for Hanma Shuji who tormented your life and brought you to Kisaki. Hatred for Kisaki Tetta who is the reason for your brother's death and who used your body as a cum dump.

Hatred at your own weakness and fear of death, that you could never win against Kisaki no matter how smart or how much effort you put in telling your brother the truth. Hatred at your own carelessness for not checking the taxi you entered this morning.

Hatred for your dead brother that put you in such a bad place.

"You work for Kisaki, bitch. Understand?"

With fresh tears, you give a quiet nod of approval.

"That's a good girl."

Taglist: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @damidamimongalam @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee @tomeyano @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @m0onz1 @hapikiou @rainnyzz @lovelyartist123 @lik0

[eph3merall]

toxic!ex!matt + a sprinkle of mean!matt . . .

cw ; slapping

—

matt is a... nice person. you know this, he knows this. he doesn't get mad too easily, keeping his calm almost all the time when anyone ticks him off. at least, that's what you thought. it never occurred to you how toxic the man was, leaving him after finding girls' contacts on his phone and some of the toxic shit he's done.

but, it always confused you how matt never seemed to care when you officially announced to him you two were done. it was like he just didn't care at all, after it took you so long to muster up the courage to even confront him about it. matt was shrugging and chewing on the toothpick in his mouth, as you huff in frustration and throw a few more curses in his direction.

you eventually got all your stuff and ended up crashing at your friends' house for a little. she was happy to have you anyways, not having seen eachother in awhile as you talked to her for hours about everything. in the end, she wasn't surprised that matt was a douche bag. maybe you aren't exactly surprised either—but he was a good boyfriend... kind of. but, if everything else wasn't good with him, the sex definitely was.

maybe it's why you find yourself outside matt's door. you're upset. pissed off and annoyed. matt always knew how to calm that storm down, and maybe you just needed him without realizing. your first instinct was to just go to him, yet you weren't even sure why. he was an asshole in the relationship.

when you find yourself in his room, matt is rolling his eyes when you start rambling on and on about whatever the fuck. you always talked a shit ton. that never really did change about you—but you looked.. more glowy. like you were doing better. a lot better.

when you kept droning on about something probably about him, matt is just sighing and sliding his hand into your hair. patting your head and then his hand comes up to pat your cheek a few times. "shut up." before his hand slapped your cheek gently—shock forming across your features as the sting starts from the harsh impact. you blink and turn your head to glare at matt, even though it did distract you from everything you were so worried about.

it's why matt has you on your knees between his legs, a hand cradling your face as you whine gently. he knows you. god, he knows you so well that he knows just how to get you to stop yapping your ass off. maybe you needed it too, with how much anxiety had wrapped around your entire body.

"shh, y'got it. doin' real good, baby," matt is cooing at you so gently, you forget that he's your ex. that you probably shouldn't even be here right now, for both of your sakes. but you can't help the way your cheek leans into the palm of his hand, warm and inviting. his eyes glance at your pitiful fucking expression, his free hand slapping you across the face gently.

sometimes, matt doesn't feel like making you suck his dick when you get too pissed off. so, he'll settle on this, or some other tactic to get you to shut your mouth. even after you two have broken off, some things just never change. and, in some way, matt kind of hates how well he knows you as he lands another slap across your pretty lil' face. "i got you, baby. i always got ya. don't gotta worry that head off anymore."

—

inspired from a thought i posted idk how long ago

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita

©eph3merall 2024

[youling-the-ghost]

mornings with him – a ditch ficlet

Derek found comfort in his strange yet endearing morning routine. word count: 800

A ray of sunlight peeped through the curtains and cascaded itself onto Derek's bed, jolting him awake. The clock on the wall indicated that it was 6 AM. Derek groaned and dragged a hand down his face, cringing at the stubble that covered his chin—he felt like a teenager, all gangly limbs and awkward changes to his body that he hadn't quite grown accustomed to yet. It was comforting, in a way.

Derek sat up—or at least, tried to sit up. He almost succeeded before a pair of arms dragged him back into the bed, snuggling him into the pile of blankets and pillows. Derek let out a muffled cry of protest, but the arms didn't relent.

"Love," Derek said, the words buried in an airy laugh. "I need to make breakfast."

Titch groaned and leaned his body onto Derek's so that there was basically no space between their bodies, nestling his face into Derek's neck.

"Breakfast can wait..." he murmured. "I'm cold."

"It's August," Derek deadpanned. To be honest, he was overheating in Titch's arms and the blankets.

When Titch showed no signs of letting go, Derek sighed and resorted to his contingency plan; he grabbed the arms that held him hostage and pried them open, which proved to be quite a difficult task—despite what his stature might suggest, Titch was incredibly strong.

In the sliver of time that he bought himself, Derek lunged forward and dove out of the bed, landing on the wooden floor with a soft thud.

Titch mumbled some nonsense, incoherent and jumbled by a half-conscious brain, in protest. Derek planted an apologetic kiss on Titch's cheek and ruffled his blonde hair, which had a golden sheen from the sunlight that peeked through the curtains.

Derek snuck one last glance at his lover, whose face smoothed into a tranquil expression as he presumably returned to dreamland, and found himself smiling. He had come a long way, both of them had. It felt like just yesterday when Titch was lighting candle after candle, refusing to sleep until the first crack of dawn peeked through the night.

Derek grimaced at his reflection; his hair was sticking up in every direction, and he was in desperate need of a shave. He patted his hair in a vain attempt to school it, but the pile of curls immediately stuck back out again. Derek sighed in defeat and decided that he'd bother with his rebellious hair some other time, instead shifting his attention to everything else that needed fixing.

Shaving was something that caused Derek intense annoyance and euphoria in the strangest of oxymorons. The act itself was tedious, and if he had the option to, Derek would absolutely choose to never have to pick up a razor again.

But in a way, the razor in his hand and the shaving cream on his face represented progress that he never thought would be possible. It was a symbol of his growth, his comfort in his own body, which was beautiful despite all the tediousness.

Derek flinched as an improperly-angled movement caused a shallow gash across his cheek. He could do without all the blood that he had drawn in the process of learning this strange aspect of manhood, though.

The shaving cream washed off his face with a splash of water and Derek dragged a hand across his now-smooth skin. It felt like velvet between his fingers. Derek smiled. He was proud of himself.

The pink apron was an essential part of the cooking process, and this was only partially a joke.

Strangely enough, all of Derek's best and fluffiest flapjacks were made while he donned the frilly baby pink apron that James got Titch as a joke for Christmas one year. It was a strange phenomenon that was difficult to explain every time someone asked why he was working in the fields while wearing something that looked like it belonged to a Barbie playset.

Lost in thought about aprons, Derek barely noticed the arms that snaked around his waist.

Derek chuckled. "Good morning, love," he said without turning around. "So you finally woke up, huh?"

"Mornin'," Titch mumbled into Derek's shirt.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that the Titch currently clinging onto him like a koala on a eucalyptus tree was the same standoffish, emotionally closed-off Titch that he was first introduced to years ago.

Derek didn't bother shrugging Titch off. He didn't mind the physical contact; he quite enjoyed it, actually. The two stayed like that in silence, with the only noise in the room being the ambient sizzling of the pan and whirring of the range hood.

"I love you," Derek said as he placed a finished flapjack onto a plate.

"Yeah."

Derek knew that it was Titch's way of saying, "I love you too."

[atangledfate]

A Hero? Why did they all go to that so quickly? He never wanted to be a Hero, even now it was the furthest thing from what he wanted. He fought because he had to, he fought because he lost someone precious to him. It was never about justice, or doing the right thing. It was and has always been a very personal conflict for him. One he still battled with internally. There were things Starline didn't know and might never know. Which by proxy left Surge in the dark, as well. No he wasn't a hero, he was just a guy who decided to fight back when everyone else was running away. He was full of anger and rage, and just wanted to make Eggman pay for that. If not for Tails, and Amy he might have become a very different person.

" I'm not a hero... i wish everyone would stop giving me that label, and if you think GUN thinks of me as a Hero, you are out of your damn mind... "

He said rather bluntly to Surge as he was probably at the top of there shit list.

" GUN absolutely despises me... Because they can't control me. The first chance they got they tried to lock my ass up. Let's not pretend they hold me in high regard here. They tolerate me because folks would flip the fuck out if they made a move... Nah GUN only cares about how they can use me... and i ain't about to let them do that again..."

He crossed his arms setting the record straight, but Surge was right about one thing. Him rushing at GUN and losing his cool would only make everything worse. But deep down he knew this was going to end badly, GUN was cutting off there reinforcement and backing them into a corner. He knew tactic as he'd seen it before, and it was gun strat 101. The only thing that had not counted on was both Surge and Sonic on base and that may have been why there were stalling.

" And you think a GUN Cell is gonna make up for all the bad you did? That the idea? Cause i dun think that'll be how it works. Those cells suck by the way... the beds are the worst. "

He seemed to have calmed down at least and was focused on Surge, as he crossed his arms giving her a glance with those baby green eyes.

" They'll just want to use you... it's what they do, its there playbook... but if it's what you want whatever i guess i can't convince you otherwise... I just think this will hurt the kid alot more then it will help him..."

He sighed as he looked back toward the airship and fidgeted as he watched it getting closer. The massive shadow falling over the base as it and two other air ships came to a stop over top of HQ, as an almost imposing figure. Sonic felt the hair on his neck stand on end, as his bad feeling only intensified.

==============================================

There was alot that Kit and Surge didn't know about Sonic, and that statement proved it to Tails. But it was very hard for him to begin to explain it to Kit. Even then he doubted Kit or Surge would agree with it or even see it as a justified reason. But Death has a way of changing people, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worst. He remembered what Sonic was like when they first met, and how he just never spoke to anyone. He honestly thought he was mute for a long time but of course that wasn't the case at all was it?

But at least Kit was honest with him and he could respect that honesty. He wanted him and it was probably the first big step forward. He also didn't disagree with him either, Sonic could end Eggman in a heart beat should he want to. He could have ended him so many times but he couldn't do that not without souring her memory.

" It does help... If only a little ... "

He didn't think trying to explain things to Kit would help and if anything it might agitate him. Though he wished he could make him see things the way he did.

" There, Relay is set up Restoration Coms fully restored... Lanolin should be able to contact our forces outside of Restoration now. We should get Belle Bot someplace safe till this is over, if anything happens to her, we'd lose coms and more--- Know anyplace secure? "

The horrible awful truth was, Sonic lost someone so precious to him that it nearly destroyed him. He was so full of anger and rage when he first met him. But it was her memory that kept him sane, that made him unwilling to to take a life. Her memory that made him believe that people can change. He knew neither of them knew the truth, how could they? He doubted even Eggman knew about her... or how she'd died.

But losing Sonic's mother had been the hardest thing in his life, and he still wrestled with it. If anyone had a reason to kill Eggman it was Sonic, and yet his promise to her kept him from going through with it. But he didn't think Surge or Kit would understand that kind of promise, or what it meant to Sonic. How breaking that promise would tarnish her memory in his eyes.

It was something he could never understand... his own parents abandoned him after all.

"Really? And here I thought they came all this for a fucking tea party with scones. Obviously I know GUN isn't here to just fucking talk, and I'm sure they have their own plans to be a pain in the ass. Though in case you forgot YOU'RE the hero, even to their bitch ass's. How do you think they'll react if you go off the fucking rails. At least if I do it then it'd be way easier for The Restoration to cut me off real quick." It was a blunt and harsh truth, though being such a loose cannon came in handy in a situation like this.

"What do you take me for, a fucking idiot? I'm well aware that I'll have to convince Kit NOT to fight GUN and let them arrest me, and doing that will be like pulling fucking teeth. That doesn't change the fact I trust only you to get him home and to keep your mouth shut just where it is. I'm not telling saying you can't be angry, though take it from me, you don't want it controlling you." Until today most of Surge's choices were driven by her anger.

"Look, I know you ain't happy about my choice, though believe it or not it's for me too. I got shit I need to pay for, and not everything is as easy as changing and running around helping people. Sometimes jail time is need, though I'm sure we both know some crazy threat will come up to force GUNs hand to let me loose to help which could help me get out faster." Surge main reason for doing this was clearly for Kit, though another reason was doing it for herself.

"So if you're done arguing with me then lets get to this fucking checkpoint and make sure GUN knows trying anything stupid will piss both of us off." Surge was ready to start telling GUN to pack it up and go the fuck home, if only for the fact it would get Drippy home faster. "Besides, in case you forgot we got giant Momma Wisp up there." The tenrec doubts GUN wants to fuck with a Wisp that side.

===========================================================

"Belle Bot wasn't designed programming of hacking, and it was something we put on the back burner as it was made mainly for defense purpose's. Simply put, it can't do something on this scale, though I suppose it'll work for at least jamming their communication and airships if need be. Belle Bot, run program delta nine B on all GUN communication devices and airship within range."

Belle Bot's eyes would glow green for a moment. "Executing command and calculating time until completion. Calculation complete. Command will be fully done in six minutes. Recommending to avoid conflict until process is complete." The bot would then put it's focus on completing the command.

"Why? It's not like you did this to me, and honestly I couldn't care less about your existence by this point. At this point my dislike for you is only because of how continue to let Sonic act so foolish and not convince him to end Eggman. Heroism is fine, though there's a clear line between heroism and stupidity. You and I both know if Sonic really wanted to he could end Eggman at anytime. I'm sure even you can, though you don't." For the most part Kitsunami had gotten past Starline's programming expect for a voice every now and then.

"So there's nothing to talk about as I just don't like you, though I can also admit I don't trust you either. Mainly because our points of view are so far apart and so different. If it helps I can say it's no longer personal as I apply this logic to Sonic and plenty of your friends." Kitsunami could now say he was mostly thinking for himself, even if most of his motivation was to help Surge.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

out of my league | pedri gonzalez

🎓 synopsis: You got into college hoping to reinvent yourself, to leave the “loser” label behind. But months in and nothing’s changed – then you see him. Pedri González, the guy who couldn’t be more out of your reach. You’re sure he’ll never notice you, but maybe, just maybe, you two have more in common than you realized. And maybe, just maybe, he’s been looking your way too. tags: self-doubt, nerd and jock trope, love triangle, you're not like other girls, mutual pining. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) | (around 3.8k words) | (and, yes, i made i playlist for a one shot, here you go)

part 1

You walk into the lecture hall, shifting your weight from foot to foot, clutching your bag strap tightly. Students swarm in around you, talking, familiar voices calling out to each other, laughter echoing off the walls. You scan the seats, looking for an empty spot – but, more importantly, looking for an empty spot where it might be easy to casually say hi to someone, where you might manage to start up a conversation without feeling like you’re forcing it.

No luck. Everyone else seems to have a seat next to someone they know, pairs and small groups filling up rows, bags and books claiming seats before you get a chance to. Finally, you slip into a seat near the back, opening your notebook and hoping that, if nothing else, maybe the professor will start early and save you from the heavy silence between you and everyone else around.

Class begins, and you make yourself busy with notes, trying to ignore how easily the others settle in. You catch part of the conversations: plans to go out, complaining about an exam, and one girl a few seats over talking about her internship in a confident voice that makes you feel smaller somehow. 

It’s silly, childish even, to still be waiting for something to change, still half-hoping someone might come along and say, “Hey, you look like you’re new here,” or “We’re grabbing coffee after this, wanna join?” But you know better – things like that won’t happen for you. So, after class, you head to the café down the street, at least there you can sit alone in peace.

As you order your coffee, you try to shake off the familiar feeling of disappointment, reminding yourself that college isn’t some high school movie where everything magically falls into place. It’ll come with time, you tell yourself.

You take your coffee to a small table near the window, trying to focus on the hum of conversation around you rather than your own thoughts. Then, out of nowhere, you notice him.

Pedri.

You’ve seen him before, of course. His face practically wallpapered half the university’s Instagram page. Pedri González, the football prodigy, popular on campus with that effortless charm. Today, he’s leaning against a counter, his order in hand, scrolling through his phone. He’s so close you almost look away instinctively, but something keeps your eyes on him – maybe the way he seems so at ease, so comfortable in a way you can’t seem to find for yourself.

And just as you think that, he glances up, catching your eye. A flicker of recognition crosses his face, and for a split second, you swear there’s something like a smile directed right at you.

You suddenly hear a voice from behind – high-pitched, bubbly, and unmistakably familiar. Melanie, his influencer girlfriend with the flawless face and perfect body, skips up to Pedri with such an enthusiasm that it makes your stomach twist.

“Pedri!” she squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. He looks a bit startled at first, but then his expression softens, and he wraps an arm around her, shifting his coffee to avoid spilling it. “I’m holding coffee,” he laughs, his voice low and easy. “Calm down.”

She pouts, tugging at his sleeve in an exaggerated, cutesy way, her voice taking on a pitch that gets on your nerves. “You didn’t wait for me!” she says, drawing out the words with a look of playful hurt. Her expression is almost too perfect, like she’s used to performing for an audience – and for all you know, she might be.

Pedri just shakes his head, still smiling. “Alright, alright, next time I’ll wait,” he says, clearly charmed. That gentle look in his eyes makes your heart sink. Here he is, so warm and patient with her, someone who seems worlds apart from you.

You look down at your coffee, suddenly feeling invisible again. You decide to make your way to the door, head down, hoping to slip out of the café without a second look from anyone. It shouldn't be too difficult. But in your haste, your bag catches on the edge of a chair, and you feel a sting as something sharp nicks your finger. You wince, glancing at the tiny cut forming on the tip of your finger, and that’s when you hear her voice again.

“Oh my god, are you okay, honey?” Melanie’s voice rings out, unexpectedly dripping with concern. You look up, realizing that she’s talking to you.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, yes,” you stammer, raising your hand to show her the barely-there cut. “It was just… a tiny cut. Really, it’s nothing. But thanks for asking.”

Pedri’s face shifts from curious to concerned as he sets his coffee down and digs around in his pocket. “Hey, hey,” he says as he pulls out a small band-aid and holds it up with a smile. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

He comes closer and carefully grabs your injured finger. His hands are warm, and he’s so close that you can smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. You try not to make eye contact, so you look up at Melanie instead – only to find her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowed. She looks absolutely furious.

You pull your hand back as soon as he finishes, tucking it away like it’s something you shouldn’t have shared. Your heart is pounding, and for reasons you can’t quite understand, you feel a knot of nerves in your stomach.

“Umm, thanks,” you say, glancing from Pedri to Melanie and back again. “I… yeah, okay. Well, bye then.”

Without waiting for either of them to respond, you spin on your heel and head for the door, practically stumbling over yourself in your rush to leave. 

part 2

It happens one afternoon when you’re at the library, tucked away in a corner, lost in your notes. You’re not really expecting anything – it’s just a quiet day like any other. You’ve been at it for hours, and it’s one of those days where everything feels like it’s blurring together – but you need to keep going. Finals are coming up, and organic chemistry isn’t about to let you off easy.

In front of you, a group of students has taken up a whole table, their textbooks and notebooks sprawled across the surface. You’re aware of a little rustling, some light laughter, then whispers that rise just enough for you to catch a few words.

“Just ask her!” one of them says, and you notice a nudge from one person to the next, like a gentle push to do something. You ignore it, but then, after a pause, you hear a voice close by.

“Hey.”

You glance up, slightly startled, and there’s Alexia standing next to you. You recognize her from thermodynamics – she’s that person who always seems to understand things when the rest of you is lost. You didn’t think she’d remember you, let alone approach you.

“Oh, hi,” you manage, trying not to sound as surprised as you feel.

“We’re, uh, actually about to grab lunch,” she says, gesturing to the group sitting around the table. “And… well, we were wondering if you wanted to come with us?”

You look over and realize that the rest of the group is watching with interest. 

“Oh… sure, that sounds nice,” you say.

The next thing you know, you’re sitting in a little restaurant, the sound of salsa music filling the air and the table scattered with plates of tacos, chips, and guacamole. You’re squeezing around a table just big enough for the six of you.

“So, did anyone actually get the last question on the problem set?” Diego asks, looking around the table.

“Don’t even talk to me about that one,” Ana groans, reaching for a chip. “They’re just trying to mess with us. Like, sure, a totally realistic scenario in the real world, right?”

Arthur smirks, shaking his head. “Weak. I got it. Want me to explain?”

“Oh, please, Mr. I-Got-It-On-The-Fifth-Try,” Andrés scoffs. “Don’t act like you didn’t guess half of it.”

Laughter rises around the table, and you catch Alexia rolling her eyes at Arthur. “He totally guessed,” she whispers, leaning in, and you smile, realizing you’re laughing too, genuinely. There’s no awkwardness, no need to carefully plan out every word.

Then Alexia groans beside you, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, the most annoying people on campus just walked in."

You follow her gaze and spot Pedri and his friends entering the restaurant, laughing loudly and drawing attention, moving with confidence.

"Oh, do you mean the most famous?" Ana teases, which sets off a laughter around the table. They’re clearly all in on the joke, sharing knowing glances.

You feel your cheeks warm, trying to hide that you're blushing. Just a few hours ago, the thought of being in that group had felt like the ultimate goal, some idealized version of what college life should be. You’d thought everything would change, that you’d somehow become a different person overnight. Now, you look at them again, at their loud voices and carefree attitude, and something about it feels... less shiny. Less like what you actually need.

This time, he doesn’t look at you. Pedri and his friends settle at a table on the other side of the restaurant. It’s strange – you’re both here, sharing the same space, yet you might as well be in different worlds.

For the first time, it doesn’t bother you. There’s a quiet satisfaction in knowing that you don’t need to be over there, part of his world, to feel like you belong. You turn back to your own table, the conversation picks up right where it left off, and you dive back in, laughing along, feeling more settled than you ever imagined you would.

part 3

You’re standing in Ana and Alexia’s tiny dorm room, surrounded by piles of clothes, makeup scattered across every available surface. Alexia’s leaning in close, brushing eyeshadow onto your eyelids while Ana adjusts the straps of her dress on your shoulders. The room feels so cramped, and your pulse is racing – this party is supposed to be huge, half the campus will be there, and just thinking about it makes you feel like you’re looking down the edge of a cliff. Your palms are clammy, and every now and then, you catch yourself wondering if maybe you should back out.

When Alexia pulls away to get a good look, you finally muster up the courage to ask, "Do I look... pretty?" The words come out quieter than you intended.

Alexia squints at you, considering. "What? Yeah, of course! Maybe…” She leans closer, tapping her chin, “maybe just take your glasses off."

Ana reaches over, carefully slipping them off, and both of them stare at you. Your heart skips a beat. Why did they pause like that? Why haven’t they said anything?

“Actually, you know what,” Ana says, laughing as she slides your glasses back on. “Let’s keep them on.”

Your stomach drops, and you immediately start overthinking. Does that mean you look… weird without them? That the glasses are hiding something? You’re seconds away from spiraling when Ana laughs again, picking up on your panic.

“No, no, it’s not that! Really!” she says, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I just think the glasses suit you. They make you look like… you, you know?”

You take a breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. “Sometimes, I feel like people don’t even look at my face,” you say quietly, almost more to yourself than to them. “Like… am I ugly or something? Just be honest.”

Alexia shakes her head, leaning in with a smirk. “The problem is not that you’re ugly. Because listen – you’re not.” She tries to keep a straight face but can’t hold back a grin. “It’s just… you have this really scary resting face. Honestly, it took us months to gather up the courage to talk to you. You looked like a total psycho!”

Your jaw drops, and then Ana starts giggling, and before you know it, all three of you are laughing so hard you’re practically gasping for air.

By the time you and your friends arrive, the place is buzzing – every corner packed with groups chatting, laughing, flirting, leaning close in half-drunken conversations, snapping selfies that will likely look more like a blur tomorrow. It's surreal, looking out over the room and recognizing faces – people you've seen day after day in the library or sitting across from you in classes.

You glance over at Alexia, who’s already chatting with Ana, while Diego and Andrés are joking around, nudging each other, making it look like they’ve been friends for years. It feels good – safe, even – knowing you're with people who know your quirks and still want you here.

For a second, you catch sight of Pedri and his friends across the room. They’re their own universe, laughing, leaning back casually against the wall, looking like they know everyone and everything.

The music grows louder, bass pulsing through the floor, and after a few songs and a couple of drinks, the air feels thick, almost stifling. You slip out onto the balcony, breathing in the cool night air, grateful for the silence.

A few moments later, you hear footsteps. When you turn, Pedri is standing there, leaning against the doorframe with that familiar half-smile.

“Hey! Finger-cut girl! Escaping too?” he says, nodding back toward the chaos inside.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, needed a break. It’s… intense in there.”

He steps forward, looking out over the city lights beyond. “It’s kind of crazy, all this,” he says, gesturing toward the noise and chaos inside. “Sometimes I just want to get away for a while, you know?”

You blink, caught off guard by the depth of his words. You’re both a bit tipsy, sure, but it doesn’t feel like enough to explain why he’s opening up like this to you. It’s almost… intentional.

You want to keep the conversation going, to say something meaningful back. Tonight, you’re really trying to be friendly, trying to bridge that gap that always feels so hard to cross. But it’s not easy for you. It’s like something physically tightens in your chest whenever you’re around people – every word feels like you’re tiptoeing on the edge of saying too much.

Still, you take a breath, gathering the nerve to open up, even if it’s just a little. “I get it,” you say, surprised at how steady your voice sounds. “Sometimes it feels like everything’s moving too fast, and you’re just… stuck, trying to catch up.”

He looks at you like he’s really hearing what you’re saying. His expression softens, and the usual cockiness in his eyes is replaced with something quieter.

He agrees, “Exactly.”

For a moment, you both stand there, the noise and music from inside a distant hum. Then he leans on the railing beside you.

“You look different tonight,” he says, his voice lower, almost as if he’s sharing a secret. “Good different.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide how much his words make you blush. “It’s just makeup and a nice dress.”

He shakes his head, his eyes still on you. “No, it’s more than that. You look�� happy.”

You’re not sure how to respond, caught between laughing it off and letting his words sink in. You look up, meeting his gaze, and suddenly the closeness between you feels electric. His eyes flicker from your face to your lips, and for a heartbeat, you’re frozen, feeling that rush of anticipation.

There’s a pause as you both just look at each other, and in the dim light, you notice something unexpected – he’s actually nervous. The way he glances down at his hands, how he shifts slightly, like he’s unsure of himself.

Your heartbeat picks up as he leans in, his breath warm against your cheek. When his lips finally meet yours, it’s gentle at first, tentative, like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you let yourself sink into it.

Just as you’re starting to forget where you are, his hand slides down your back, fingers trailing lower, and it’s like a switch flips. You pull back, reality rushing back in as you catch your breath, and he looks at you, confused.

You look down, noticing your lipstick, or, well, Alexia’s lipstick smudged on his lips, “You have a girlfriend,” you say, your voice a mix of anger and disbelief. “Why would you do this?”

He hesitates. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

“Since when?”

“Uhmm… listen, we’re about to break up. Any day now. I’m just trying to find the right time.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, stepping back.

He sighs, like he knows how this sounds. “She kisses other guys too, it’s fine, we have an open relationship.”

You fold your arms, skeptical. “Okay… maybe start with that next time. I still don’t feel like I can trust you, and I’m pretty sure she hates me. Either way, I don’t want any drama.”

Pedri laughs, trying to look nonchalant. “Drama? Me? I’m the chillest. There’s no drama with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You just told me you’re in the middle of breaking up, and I don’t even know what that means.”

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, I like thinking,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “You should try it. It’s really good – it lowers your chances of hurting people.”

Pedri opens his mouth, maybe to defend himself, but instead, he just nods, an apology in his eyes. And though you can see that part of him wants to win you over, there’s a quiet recognition there too. He knows he messed up. The music shifts, someone calls your name, and before either of you can say anything more, you turn and walk back into the noise, leaving him standing there.

part 4

It’s a random Tuesday when you find yourself in a situation straight out of a cheap comedy. You’re just minding your business, walking back to your dorm with an armful of snacks you impulsively bought after a long day of exams. But right as you turn the corner of the hallway, your foot catches on a loose bit of carpet. In an effort to keep from falling, you stumble forward, dropping your snacks everywhere – chips and candy scattering across the floor like confetti.

As you scramble to gather everything, trying not to laugh at your own clumsiness, you realize you’re not alone. Just around the corner, you hear voices. You freeze, quickly recognizing one of them as Pedri’s. And the other... Melanie.

You lean down, staying out of sight and pretending to reach for a stray bag of chips, hoping to avoid drawing attention. But as their conversation grows louder, your curiosity gets the best of you.

“You don’t understand,” Melanie’s voice is strained, dripping with frustration. “We have something big, something real. We’re building a future here!”

Pedri sighs, his tone more tired than angry. “Be honest with me – are you even still in love with me?”

There’s a beat of silence, followed by her dismissive laugh. “This is bigger than some little crush, Pedri. We have stability. What kind of future do you have with her? You two have absolutely nothing in common!”

You bite your lip, cheeks heating up. Could they be talking about you? You’d get up and leave if you didn’t feel like you’d definitely be noticed now. You’re basically a hostage in your own hallway.

Pedri’s voice grows firmer. “This isn’t about her. It’s about us, Mel.”

She scoffs, and you can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “You two aren’t going to last a month. Just wait. You’ll come crawling back to me.”

At that, she storms off, heels clicking sharply. Pedri steps out from behind the corner a moment later and catches sight of you sitting there, wide-eyed and completely flustered, with a bag of chips crushed in your hand. There’s a split second of mutual shock before he bursts out laughing.

“Oh god,” you mumble, utterly mortified as you scramble to stand. “I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping. I… I was just… my snacks…”

Pedri grins, shaking his head. “You know, I think this might be the best thing that’s happened all day.”

He holds out his hand to help you up. “Need a hand with that?”

You take his hand, still flustered but grateful. As he helps you gather up the rest of your snacks, you both start walking down the hallway toward your dorm room. It feels easy – surprisingly comfortable, considering the circumstances. The small talk flows without much effort, and Pedri seems genuinely happy to be talking to you.

“So, what’s your course again?” he asks, glancing over at you with that warm smile that makes you a little nervous.

“I’m studying chemical engineering,” you say, trying to sound confident, even though you’re still a bit flustered from your earlier clumsiness. 

Pedri raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Oh, so you’re smart, smart, huh?” he says with a grin. “I didn’t take you for a genius.”

You laugh, a bit shy but glad he’s not being too serious. “Well, I’m smart in the sense that I know how to memorize a bunch of formulas. I wouldn’t call it genius-level.”

He chuckles, clearly impressed. “I don’t know. Sounds pretty smart to me.”

You shrug, glancing at the floor. “Well, I know, it sounds super boring, but I kind of like it. I guess I’m just really into figuring out how stuff works.”

Pedri looks amused. “So you’re, like, a chemical wizard, huh?”

“Something like that,” you joke, trying to downplay it.

"So..." Pedri seems to want to start a serious conversation, looking at you with a slightly hesitant expression. "About what you heard... and about the kiss..."

You immediately shake your head, feeling your heart race. "We don't have to talk about any of it. Really."

Pedri pauses, confusion flickering on his face, as if he’s hurt by your response. "Are you sure?"

You look at him, trying to keep a straight face. "I have social anxiety."

He stares at you for a moment. "You seem fine talking to me."

You sigh dramatically, though you can’t quite hide the smile tugging at your lips. "I'm freaking out inside, trust me."

"That's okay," he says, his tone softening. "Alright, then maybe we can talk about other stuff? Maybe I can walk you to your room again some other times? What about that?"

You think for a second, still a little unsure but feeling the warmth of his easy-going demeanor. "Umm... yeah. Other stuff sounds nice. Walking sounds... okay."

Pedri raises an eyebrow, clearly teasing now but with a playful glint in his eye. "Can you handle walking and talking?"

You pause for a beat, then nod with a little more confidence than you actually feel. "I can handle!"

[cornbread-but-cringey]

so either taigas on bedrock use a different pixel on the colormaps than on java or the wiki is just straight up wrong.

[shhh-secret-time]

To be honest, stardew valley has me in such a chokehold. It always has, even before the 1.6.

In such a way that my brain wants to smash my hyperfixation into it. So late at night I'll be awake thinking of this stardew/south park mashup.

Call that bad boy Star Park AU.

But no brain! Bad! We already have too much going on! You have a Secret Soulmate AU. Fantasy AU, A Cowboy AU story staring Kenny that's still in the outline phase, and these one shots!

(Look at the tags to watch me descent into madness)

[mitchfynde]

Again, I'm not interested in the whataboutism. Have that debate with someone else.

You conceded that the fake electors plot was a real thing that happened. That was him attempting to steal the election. Not sure if you changed your phrasing to him successfully stealing the election on purpose or not, but my claim wasn't that he succeeded but that he attempted. You conceded to that and now you seemingly don't remember or didn't actually think about what that meant.

Trump did immense damage to the America and the world.

Are the Democrats to blame for their most psychotic extremists online being anti-male? It's not as if the party endorses these beliefs or in any way puts them forward. You're quite literally advocating for reactionary politics or at least excusing them. That's feelings over facts, by the way, something I doubt you'd be comfortable with.

And you're just totally wrong about Trump VS Kamala. I cannot remember Trump answering a single question about anything. His answers were never real answers. The concept of a plan? He usually just said "we're gonna fix everything magically" in one way or another. There were 0 details. No real answers. Kamala had actual policy, you just ignored it apparently.

And then you put it on her that her followers are anti-male, even if that's the vast minority. You don't seem to use that same standard for Trump, whose extremists are far more mainstream and include Elon Musk, a fucking billionaire who runs the website where most Americans get their news.

I tolerate the memes from both men and women, because I have actual principles. It's fun and you should try it.

I am deranged. Next.

You don't even know the bigger issues exist. You don't even think the abortion restriction is an issue. You've memory-holed Trump attempting to steal the election. I just... don't have much faith in your ability to prioritize these things.

Your current priorities make no fucking sense to me and seem based on your own personal experiences with far-left lunatics. Reactionary politics are not real politics. You're just in your feelings. Radfems are bad, I'm with you on that. Let's not pretend Democrats are some radfem haven. In reality, Democrats are the party of trans rights and they do not give a fuck that you are male. In fact, they see it as an absolute win of their own social policy. You most likely owe the fact that you are able to openly exist to Democrats with or without the capital d, politicians and voters alike.

That's not to say you owe them allegiance btw. I don't mean to imply that. It's just worth thinking about. And obviously, if you're from a different country, it doesn't apply so much.

This is actually wild. And I'm pretty sure nearing illegal. These people want you dead. And they keep yelling out so everyone hears. This is legit advocacy for murder. And for what? Because you can't kill the unborn? Except what changes? Trump said he won't ban abortion. And even SUPPOSING he did it's very likely against the 14th amendment anyways.

And abortion is never life saving. So again. What's your issue? What's so bad you'd advocate for murder? You all belong in a looney bin.

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

So yeah avoiding my phone didn't work and also meant I sat on the kitchen floor staring into space for about 3 hours before Alfie woke up but hey at least I didn't break anything

Them being around is helping a little but they're also struggling and it fuckin sucks bc I know we're both just. Rotating money stress in our minds

[the-physicality]

i do think, aside from mercury bias, if bg had been in all season she would have been all wnba, first or at least second. i think people undervalue her because of the rebounding but she is 1000% the worst officiated player in the league, on both sides of the court. so the fact that she's been able to have the performance that she had is incredible, and that she didn't get the acknowledgment really just underscores how much people take what she does for granted.

[quietlyblooms]

a possessive kiss that is meant to stake a claim .

kiss & tell | oooh @ofurizen wants chiyo soooo bad ≖‿≖

" 'm sorry i didn't listen. "

the words are tired and spoken between rasped breaths as chiyo holsters her pistols. her arms and legs feel like jello -- a side effect of nearly meeting her end at the gruesome hands of a hulking demon. but there isn't a drop of concern for herself in the pools of brown gazing at v. it's all for him. she'd watched as the creature trampled over shadow, barreling towards the man with such ferocity, and as griffon snatched v out of harm's way, chiyo fired without a second thought. her onslaught drew the demon's attention to her, as she wished, but she didn't have an avian companion to save her from being squashed.

she didn't need one. a well-placed bullet ( read: lucky shot ) sent the demon tumbling to the ground, giving nightmare enough time to manifest and v to finish the job. and thank god.

as v's hair turns from white to black again, chiyo worries she's made him angry. at the very least, she expects to be reprimanded after her reckless display. she's only human. a fragile thing like her shouldn't take risks that aren't in her favor, particularly when she was told to stay back.

green eyes finally meet her own, and chiyo shifts uncomfortably beneath the intensity of v's stare. the need to justify her actions rises in her chest, forces words out that aren't as careful as they typically might be. she cares too deeply to hide it very well anymore. " but that thing wasn't gonna give you a break. i couldn't just stand there. what if you got hurt? " the distance between them is rapidly closing with v's long strides. like she always has, chiyo stands her ground and does not move, brow furrowing and mouth twisting into a frown.

but it is not an argument that v wants. he enters her space not to intimidate her but to pull her closer, eliciting a gasp as his gloved hand grasps her jaw and arm wraps around her. he wants her. the realization winds chiyo, steals the breath from her lungs seconds before v has the chance to, and it's almost embarrassing how easily she melts and molds into his touch then, how readily she stands on her tiptoes so that he doesn't have to bend down quite so far. if he wants her, he'll have her.

his kiss is a hungry, greedy thing, and chiyo is nothing but willing to feed it. he need not tilt her head for a better angle because she does it for him, presses closer without the encouragement of a tighter embrace, though she does relish in it. he need not be insistent for she wants him, too; he must understand that when she is so eager to surrender to his touch. take what you want, her body sighs. one hand slides up tattooed skin to rest delicately at the base of v's throat while the other tangles itself in dark strands and doesn't let go. her mind grows fuzzy, unable to think clearly even as their lips part for air, and chiyo meets v's gaze with half-lidded eyes. she feels the rise and fall of his chest, wonders if his heart beats as fast as hers does.

yours. all yours, her eyes seem to say as she takes hold of the hand that held her jaw and turns her head to press a kiss to his thumb, tilt her face into his palm. a smile tugs at her mouth, bashful and teasing all at once.

" maybe i'm not so sorry. "

[chaoticstabby]

I think what most people fail to understand is the sheer scale of not only the horrors but also the consequences of the dictatorship.

In 17 years of dictatorship, the official human rights reports count at least 40.000 victims of repression in all its forms, almost 3.000 of which were forced disappearances, and of those disappearances, several hundred victims were minors. There are still 1162 people whose fates and whereabouts are completely unknown, fifty years later. There were around 200.000 people who fled into exile, and there's probably countless more whose suffering we just don't know about. There are hundreds of people who were never born because their mothers were purposefuly tortured to the point of abortion. Schools, stadiums, hospitals, houses, all turned into concentration camps and torture centers. The Chilean dictatorship was one of the bloodiest in all of Latin America.

And the same dictatorship was the one who created the structures we live under to this day: they privatized the mining industry, the education system, the healthcare system, they set the precedent for the later privatization of water, they installed the current pension system at literal gunpoint, they completely redid every aspect of daily life in Chile and fifty years later we're still trying to undo the damage.

It's hard to convey how much the dictatorship still affects our life, it's hard to put into words how deep the wounds go, but it's there. It's everywhere. Wherever I look, wherever I turn, whoever I talk to, it's in the little coincidences that made the difference between life and death, and in all the unspoken family histories, it's in the endless wait lists for doctors' appointments, it's in the fucking wealth inequality that makes it so that the 1% of the population is sitting on over 50% (if not more) of the country's wealth and still have the fucking gall to tell us we live in one of the best economies in the world, that we're fucking lucky.

This is our reality, this is what we live with every day, and I wish I didn't have to give an entire dissertation whenever I want to discuss it. We don't deserve to be relegated to "the other 9/11". We deserve a way forward.

Ni perdón ni olvido

[lady-tortilla-chip]

See now I know people didn’t read ACOTAR or just don’t know how to read because Amarantha taking over Prythian wasn’t about Tamlin. It was about her taking over Prythian. The curse on Spring was about Tamlin rejecting her child predator ass. So regardless if he “sacrificed” himself, Amarantha was still going to take over Prythian, except there would’ve been no one to challenge her and therefore no ACOTAR series… since the whole premise of the first book is about the curse in Spring, not Prythian itself.

Lmao. I swear her stans have no braincells.

Amarantha has stans ???? Tho I guess I liked her but I figured most agreed because she was the villain she should be the most hated (as evidenced by Helaina’s survey where MOST chose villains as their least favorites).

ALSO agreed Anon most people in the fandom don’t have great reading comprehension skills seeing as they turned on Tamlin because of acomaf. But yeah insane to think him saying yes to her would’ve saved anyone. It wouldn’t have and like you said without the curse in place over spring Feyre would’ve never killed Andras and been brought to the Spring Court. Her and Rhys only meet BECAUSE of the curse which forces Tamlin to take her.