#banning foreign words

[carolinemillerbooks]

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/a-masculine-irony/

A Masculine Irony

The young woman seated opposite me at the restaurant was an orphan. A few months earlier, her mother had died of cancer. Her father had departed this earth years earlier after a fall from a ladder. Both parents I’d known since college, a bookish pair who remained in the same four-storied house they’d purchased after they married. Over the years, the couple had managed to fill the space with books, giving each room the appearance of a cozy library. Now the daughter was tasked with clearing away their history and she felt guilty. “I’m not much of a reader,” she admitted, her eyes meeting mine as if seeking absolution.   “Who reads these days?” I shrugged as a way of satisfying her.    Oddly enough, I’d read an article that morning that said I.Q scores in the U. S. were falling.  Could a general decline in reading be at fault? To my dismay, I’d learned earlier that among the younger generation Charles Dickens, Henry James, and Thomas Mann had fallen out of favor. The reason?  Their sentences were too long.  As a teacher and a writer, I felt my brain shudder when I read that.  No better way exists to reveal the connection between disparate ideas than with long sentences. Science agrees.  For example, the Nun Study which has been underway for many years revealed that participants who wrote long, convoluted sentences in their diaries lived dementia-free lives.  Could the data also suggest that a decline in the nation’s IQ stems from a decline in verbal reasoning–the capacity to understand complex ideas in written language? If so, then abandoning James’ literary flourish for Earnest Hemingway’s grunt-like sentences has done the human brain no favors. Dictators are aware of the strong connection between the mind and language. That’s why they burn books and suppress free speech.  Mussolini’s stench rose anew, recently, when Italy’s Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni proposed banishing foreign words.     Not long after reading the I.Q story, my eyes fell upon an unrelated article reporting on a different decline. Young men are leaving the workforce in greater numbers than in the past.  One expert explained why.  Men are unhappy with their social status.  Another labeled the condition an aggrieved male psyche.  The root of the problem lies in a machismo nostalgia that is compatible with fascism. The hallmarks are homophobia, hostility to women’s rights, gun idolatry, and a wiliness to see violence as legitimate political action. Donald Trump, a candidate for President of the United States in 2018, tapped into this angst when he vowed to “Make America Great Again.” (MAGA)  The core of his platform was a promise to return manufacturing jobs to the United States, enabling men with little education to earn good wages. In response, these underclass males flipped their loyalty from the Labor movement with its Democratic leanings and voted Republican. Overnight, the party of large corporations and one-percenters became a party that feared foreigners and embraced a narrow set of religious values. Out of sync with the majority of Americans, the recruits had enough political clout to divide the country and create a cultural upheaval not seen since the 19th century.   In the 19th Century, as the economy began to transition from rural labor to urban labor, people began to worry that boys were becoming weak because women were playing a larger role in their upbringing. So they attempted to find ways to encourage young men and boys to engage in physical activity, creating things like body building and later the YMCA and Boy Scouts.   Today, a similar challenge confronts undereducated men who cling to outmoded “masculine” values. For example, they choose to drop out of the workforce rather than transition into healthcare where jobs are plentiful. Caring for others is women’s work they say and point to the poor pay as a disincentive. Sociologist Michael Kimmel admits that before these men can transition, they will need a new male role model. As a feminist, I will note that no similar generosity greeted women as they struggled to transition themselves.  But I get it. The Republican Party will be short-lived if it is dominated by men who look back in anger. In any case, a return to the past isn’t possible. Technology precludes it. What’s more, progress in that direction requires more light than falls from the discontent of disillusioned men.  But where do we look for masculine role models? Republicans like Trump and Josh Hawley may imagine they fit the bill, but as they were born to privilege and received expensive educations, can their claims be creditable?  Probably not.  Still, they will attempt to create that illusion. They have no choice. The men with whom they have little in common control the launching pad for their ambition. These politicians may mumble shibboleths to attract supporters but that doesn’t make them role models.  It makes them opportunists. For the moment, the Republican version of masculinity looks like a snake attempting to swallow its tail.  Who’s leading and whose following isn’t clear.  What’s obvious is that both ends are promoting a cultural stagnation that will imperil the future.

[russianreader]

Spiker vs. Speaker

Why bother to find the right word in Russian when the wrong word in English will do? Текст «К каким последствиям для общества приводят войны» автор Лиза Шапатина писала долго, потому что нужно было найти хороших спикеров [spikerov], нужно было составить хорошую рыбу и нужно было структурировать текст так, чтобы было понятно, просто и интересно. И ей это удалось! Author Liza Shapatina took a…

[zeichannnnn]

⚠️ In regards to the natlan controversy (and Sumeru by proxy)

Do NOT accuse people of being racist just because your skin colour cannot be found in a game. Learn to know that people don't live in the same situation as you.

Please read this fully for the reality of things I'm sorry for getting political, skip if you don't want to interact

I’m kinda sad at the fact that a lot of people are quick to hate, judge, and scrutinise Hoyo without understanding the situation.

With recent teaser of Natlan characters, people are rightfully upset at the fact that the characters shown to hail from Natlan… don’t exactly look the part. With characters lighter than my own skin tone (I’m a Chinese Southeast Asian by the way, heya) people are calling hoyo bullshit and accusing them of being a racist for failing time and time again at giving us characters with POC shades of skin. Now I’m not here to defend Mihoyo for their actions, or to tell you to stop being mad at the situation being the way they are. No, I’m here to shed you some light of how life is as a game company under the rule of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and Xin Jin Ping (XJP cause I won’t be bothered to type his whole ass name)

I've highlighted points of each section

Any pages that requires translations, I recommend using DeepL instead of google translate because you can check the meanings of specific words and it's translation are better (imo)

Skip to the last part if you just want a summarised version

Before we get into the nitty gritty that is Genshin drama, I'll give you a run-down on what and how China works.

check the part "In relation to Genshin's design choices and how China's beauty standard influences it" if you want to go straight on to the point

People’s Republic of China

is a Unitary Marxist–Leninist one-party socialist republic. This means that China is under a one-party (Chinese Communist Party) rule with communism ideology on how they rule and govern the country and socialist standards for how they manage their economy and everything else. [.]

The CCP holds a very nationalistic view

[.] which is commonly used as propaganda [.] for them to garner either sympathy or control over the people of China. These nationalistic view, in its raw and most rudest form, simply states that Chinese people are pure by upholding traditional Chinese culture (that's not even traditionally Chinese, more or less more catered towards communism and the CCP's ideologies which are that they're great and everyone else is wrong) and not mixing themselves or tainting themselves with things that are not pure (i.e. anything that isn't Chinese, from China, belongs to China) This nationalistic views, which glorifies China and detests anything foreign (i.e. culture, language, people, etc.) have led to a lot of xenophobia being built and nurtured inside of China's society [1] [2] [3]

Aside from the CCP's nationalistic views,

China's society is very censored and monitored by the CCP

[.] Google, YouTube, or more specifically, the internet itself is heavily banned by the government, electing the people to use the CCP's private internet that allows them to be monitored 24/7 through IP location and private information. [1] [2] [3] [4] Aside from heavily monitored and controlled internet access, people in the real world are also actively being watched and monitored through CCTV with facial recognition features and an AI that can predict people's action (yes, exactly like the akasha, and yes, Sumeru arc is based on reality, I won't talk about it here but feel free to read between the lines and compare it with the sources and news articles I'm about to drop on you) [1] [2. Behind paywall] [3] [4] [5]

With its censorship in mind, let us talk about what brings us all here:

the gaming censorship in China.

In order for a game to be published in China, whether it's made by an indie or a multi-billion dollar company, the game has to go through a complicated preliminary test made and assigned by the CCP to play, test, and go through your game before publishing it anywhere in Chinese media [.] This test includes you company's paperwork, your game's paperwork, the things you're displaying in your game, and the story it's trying to tell. There are not that many rules on what should and should not appear inside of your game, such as: polyamory, the undead (in both graphic and non-graphic manner), etc. That should be considered tame and should cause no problem, however, we do have a problem with one of the rule given which is: Emphasizing Cultural Sensitivity.

Emphasizing Cultural Sensitivity

in the article I've mentioned before, describes it as "Games should impart “correct” information on politics, law, and history, as interpreted by the authorizing agency." Now what does "correct" information entail? Who fucking knows because truth is relative. Facts, when in the eyes of the CCP, are relative to what they believe is to be right and what they want us to believe is right.

Now with that out of the way, let us get into the main deal.

MiHoYo

(not to be confused with Hoyoverse/Cognosphere which is their international branch) is a is a Chinese video game development and publishing company, founded by three classmates from university Cai Haoyu, Liu Wei, and Luo Yuhao [.] That means that Genshin Impact's development, ever since it was at its infancy, first-established days, and updates until the near future, are all subjected onto that game censorship law that I mentioned earlier. Now you might all be wondering, what does all of those rules have to do with genshin characters having dark skins? To that I point you towards the fact that MiHoYo and the CCP are and have been actively working together ever since around September 2021. [1] [2]

Cooperation between MiHoYo and the CCP

Ever since Genshin Impact's massive hit both nationally and internationally, its massive fanbase has hit the internet no one has ever seen before. It is the first ever Chinese game that has gotten world wide acclaim and with that, new eyes begin to look upon China. It is no surprise to anyone that Genshin is very particular about showing and promoting Chinese culture to the outside world. Genshin has somehow become the face to Chinese culture in just a year, with limited events such as Lantern Rite and Moonchase festival to showcase China's cultural beauty. With world-wide acclaim comes a price, wherein the CCP no longer treats Genshin as "another game" but a tool that they can use to promote and advertise themselves into the global population.

Begin the censorship and micro-manipulation of things in Genshin

New gaming censorship dropped after the Genshin Impact became a hit in the industry, with even Venti and Gorou as examples of characters that should not appear in media published in China (effeminate man) [.] In additional to the list I've linked in the "the gaming censorship in China" section, a lot more additional rules have been added to that list, such as: queer representation, morally grey character, but I what I want you to look at more is the section where "historical elements, including characters, maps and clothing, should conform with mainstream accounts." in addition to that, a self-regulation pact was made between game companies and the CCP that bans any and all content that is deemed "politically harmful" and "historically nihilistic." Now focus more onto that "historically nihilistic" point, what does that mean?

Historical nihilism

is a term used by the CCP and many Chinese scholars to describe research or discussions deemed to contradict an official state version of history in a manner perceived to question or challenge the legitimacy of the CCP [.] TLDR; it's a term used for when what you're saying clashes or goes against what the CCP said. Why is this important you may ask? It's because that now, at this point, if anything Genshin does something—whether that'd be plotline, design etc.—that the CCP thinks shouldn't exist or be represented, they have the lawful right to block or stop it from reaching the final product. Now this, this is what happened to Genshin's Sumeru and Natlan cast.

In relation to Genshin's design choices and how China's beauty standard influences it

white has always been a predominant part of modern Chinese beauty culture, for some reason (I don't know and I'm not going to go that deep into it, research it on your own if you're curious) In fact, it's not only China but also Asian culture in general. White skin has always been hailed as pure and beautiful here in Asia, where the line "as pale as the moon" is a common compliment to give to someone. Skin colour that are tan or even darker are connected to being dirty or stinky. Despite the younger generation not really adhering to that view, the older generation (calling out the CCP here) upholds that standard till this day. Pin straight hair, round eyes, pale white skin, and a thin figure are the standards put upon those born as female. Their male counterpart are not that different, with lean and fit being the preferred body type rather than big muscles or bulky forms.

The reason behind why this is the case is because of Asia's strict social code in rules and appearances. We must appear prim and clean, that means no dyed hair, no tattoos, no piercings, and minimal make-up. Anyone that goes against those rules are regarded as delinquents or deviants that usually break the rules and do criminal activities (despite it not being the case) Having a bulky stature also applies to that list, regardless of what gender you are, and especially for men. You're regarded as dangerous, criminal, bad influence if you look like that in public (this is why we don't have that much bulky characters gang and why we were robbed of heavy muscles Itto orz) (he deffo was very bulky in the original design, probably similar to the Nobushi but it got nerfed in final product)

Given all of that in mind, it's no wonder that Sumeru's and and Natlan's casts are mostly white... but were they always that way?

The original skin colour design for Natlan cast might've been darker than what we have in the final product.

As a lot of people have mentioned (especially with the many beautiful edits I'm very fond of) the character designs for Natlan's new up-coming rosters looks better with darker skin tone. Take for examples this edit right here:

taken from @ rarepairz on twitter [source]

Their designs (with darker skin tones) seem to pop more, giving highlights onto their clothes and accessories in comparison to the original design. Here are more examples of this happening:

taken from @ Wabs_nabs on twitter [source]

It is especially clear to anyone with basic colour theory that the colour used for designing the clothes and accessories and highlights in the hair look better with darker skin colour. There is *intent* on making it this way in comparison to woeful ignorance of making them look white as hell. If they were to intentionally to make the characters look white, they would've chosen a better colour for the clothes, less bolder ones and eye-popping ones to contrast with the already luminescent light that's emitting from the skin.

And this is not the case for only Natlan, by the way! The same thing happened when the Sumeru cast was first leaked. Case in point this:

taken from @ animuswonder on twitter [source]

and my personal art of Cyno and Nari:

Look at how much contrast there is between their colour palette or how much resonance there is, with Cyno his more cold-colour attire and hair, in comparison to his deep dark warm skin or Tighnari that's the epitome of a "spring girl" like come on man. There's INTENT in those designs, to have more darker shades than they are in the game. Sadly, they just can't do it due to censorships. Why? Because, as I have mentioned before, darker shades of skin are represented as dirt here in Asia as we glorify pale skin more.

The representation of uniqueness and differences in Chinese game is not common due the fact that most Asian countries are homogenous, which means they prefer everyone and everything to be the same, to look the same, and follow and do the same things. They do not advocate for uniqueness, they do not advocate for individuality, they advocate for us to conform and to follow like a sheep in a herd. Because of that, most people spend their whole life trying to whiten up their skin, keeping them light, and those who are darker than most are shown prejudiced and scrutinised.

Mentioning again the fact that MiHoYo and the CCP are working closely together, Genshin Impact is currently being used as a cultural weapon by the government. With MiHoYo showing numerous time that they've donate and support Chinese cultural heritage, the CCP is using that fact and holding control over Genshin as a way to promote and advertise sympathy towards Chinese culture and the Communist regime by proxy. It's like how your parents are getting you to eat broccoli brownies in hopes that you'd eat normal broccolis and other vegetables by proxy. Everything and anything that Genshin shows in its game are now under close inspections of the CCP and colourism especially will not fly-by their radar.

In conclusion

Your anger and hatred towards the new characters’ designs are justified, however the person you aim those anger and hatred should not be towards Mihoyo, or Liu Wei, or any of the staff members but towards the situation and the laws and the local government MiHoYo has to adhere to.

We're already lucky to have MiHoYo even wanting to represent and shpw different cultures from different parts of the world, telling us engaging stories, and incentivising us to think more and to be be more of us instead of following the crowd and to judge those in power (if you are literate and have the ability of a 6th grader, you know the theme Genshin Impact is showing in its story). In a world where they aren't able to live as freely as people outside of mainland do, they shouldn't have to put their life at risk by creating a game that goes against the CCP's laws that will lead to a deduction to their social points (yes, those actually exist, WAKE UP). Yet they do, they update every month, telling stories, creating characters with many characteristics that goes against Chinese gaming laws, just for us to enjoy.

Do NOT accuse people of being racist just because your skin colour cannot be found in a game. Learn to know that people don't live in the same situation as you.

You are right to be mad, you are right to be upset, but do not condemn them for something they hold no power to. It's between their lives and your fantasies and if you choose to value your delusion over their livelihood then that just shows what kind of a person you are.

Where's this conviction towards other game companies aside from MiHoYo? Where's the rightful air when it comes to companies that breathe much fresher air? Do they not have the same responsibility? Or is it because you actually do not care and merely want to point your unbridled emotions towards something or someone? If so, you're pointing at the wrong person.

[clawsmiic]

"I had to talk to you."

Repost from other account

2.4k words

CW: Heavy flirtation, canon divergence (S4 end events didn't happen), College Student!Steve, Steve has shit eyesight

October 13th, 1989

Steve sighs, leaning back on the drivers side of his 1983 BMW. Burgundy paint starting to chip on the hood, the car becoming less appealing day by day. Girls passing by not even looking in his direction anymore. He was old news in Hawkins after people found out he had finally started at a college half an hour away in Fort Wayne. Just starting his life like everyone else did 4 years ago just wasn't appealing to most girls.

At least not Hawkins girls.

But at this point he didn't care. He was proud of himself for pulling his life together after all the bullshit he had been put through. With saving an entire town too many god damn times. Cutting his dad off when his parents divorced. Moving out to get a rented house with his best friend Robin. Just what he learned he needed over time.

Getting into a good school by himself with no help was just a cherry on top of the fuck you sundae he graciously served his past problems.

He was satisfied with what he had right now.

Dustin walks out of the new game shop in the newest strip mall to grace Hawkins. Steve looks up, pushing his Ray-Ban sunglasses onto his head.

"You made it out before, Robin. I'm surprised." Dustin glanced at the instrument shop a few doors down, then back to Steve. "You get what Eddie needed?"

"Mostly yeah. She's still getting her trumpet fixed?" Steve shrugs at Dustin's question and slides his sunglasses down in place again.

"She probably got distracted looking at something shiny and new. You know Robins crow brain sometimes." Dustin laughs, looking into his bag, shuffling a few things around inside.

Steve looked over at the liquor store at the end of the strip mall. Looking back at Dustin, he taps the top of the car. His head snapped up, eyes a bit surprised at the sudden noise.

"You want anything?" Steve asks, tilting his head back towards the store.

"Coke? If they got it." Dustin simply replied before getting in the back seat. Steve nods and walks to the liquor store.

The bell chimes over his head as he walks through the door. He takes in the warmth of the store and the radio playing over the speakers on the ceiling. Such a nice contrast to the crisp Autumn air outside.

He turns heading down an isle of assorted liquor bottles and bar accessories before finally stopping at the fridge. Humming along to the song over the radio, mumbling the lyrics to 'I wanna know what love is' absentmindedly.

Sliding his glasses down his nose, he squints at the selection. All the labels are blurry the farther he is, he steps forward rubbing his eyes and sure doesn't help with the florescent lighting blinding him from above.

God I need to get my eyes checked.

Opening the fridge, he grabs the 3 soft drinks and a 6-pack for later when he hears a metal scrapping and whoosh next to him. Followed by a muffled but panicked "Shit!"

Looking over, he sees the back of a squatting woman struggling with a metal shelf slipping out of one of the fridges.

Walking over, he quickly puts his things down and pushes the shelf back in. The metal shelf, cold against his warm skin as he reaches into the fridge, fixing the fasteners back into place.

An issue he's all too familiar with working at Family Video. The fridge racks always got loose and every time it happened he was always made to clean them up. He could only imagine the mess a bunch of glasses and beer would have made.

"Thank you so much!" The woman speaks as Steve stands up, slowly closing the door. Looking back, he finally sees your face. His lips slightly part as you continue talking, he can't hear a word you're saying right now.

All he can hear is the very oddly convenient Foreigner song playing over the store radio as he takes in every detail of your gorgeous face. From your shiny hair to your bright smile. The vibrant colored nail polish on your fingers you're waving as you talk. You're unfamiliar, he's never seen you before, but you're an absolute stunner of a woman.

Steve never thought of himself as a love at first sight kind of guy. But right now he was undoubtedly being proven wrong by the spark he was feeling, not to mention the nervous knot in his stomach.

"But really you're a life saver... Thank you." You stop talking, looking at him. Your face falls as he perks up, realizing he's just been staring like a complete idiot this entire time.

"You're welcome!" He spoke, choking almost over how inappropriately loud he was for a second. Feeling the effect of not talking to women for a while really hit him. You look down at his soon-to-be purchases.

"Full Sail Amber. Good beer." You comment, making him look at the floor and nod.

Crouching down, he grabs his things and stands cracking his head on one of the fridge door handles. His sunglasses fell off his face and onto the floor. He stands up wedging his soft drink between his side and arm. Rubbing his head with a hiss.

"You okay?" You ask with a slight chuckle. Bending down, you grab the sunglasses, Steve moves his hand, grabbing the bottom of the door handle to shield your head from injury.

"Yeah, thanks." Before he gets to put his hand out to take his Ray-Bans back, you slide them on his head with a soft smile.

God she's so fucking pretty.

"You're welcome. And thanks again for... Saving me from paying for a full shelf of beer." She turned down the isle to another part of the store.

Part of Steve wants to follow you and try chatting you up, but the slight embarrassment of hurting his head just keeps him from doing so.

He turns, goes to the front of the store and makes his purchases. Heading outside, he walks to his car, finally seeing Robin in her usual spot, the passenger seat. Opening the driver's door, he slips in.

"There you are!" Robin looked at him, her trumpet case in-between her legs on the floor of the car.

"What's with the face?" Dustin asks, Steve looking at him in the rearview, glaring.

"Shut up Henderson." He hands them their sodas, moving to close his car door when he hears the bell from the liquor store chime.

Out you walk, starting across the parking lot to a top-down red 86' Volkswagen Cabriolet. Steve freezes, staring again. He really can't help but stare.

"Oooh." Robin and Dustin both taunt him, making him sigh. He needs more friends, fewer annoying friends.

"She's pretty." Robin says looking at Dustin.

"Too pretty to talk to, apparently." Dustin adds, laughing as he looks back at Steve.

"I talked to her in the store." Dustin raised his eyebrows, pushing his baseball cap up a bit.

"You asked her out?"

"No." Steve watches you load your bag into the back seat and start pulling the top up on your car.

"Not too late!" Robin smiled, taking a sip of her drink. Dustin looked at her.

"He's not gonna do it."

"No, he's gonna do it."

Steve feels like he has a devil and an angel bickering on his shoulders right now. His foot meets the new asphalt of the parking lot as you open your driver's door.

He's quickly out of the driver's seat.

"Holy shit he's doing it." Dustin comments as he shuts the door on them.

He stops at the bumper of his car, hearing your car engine click over. Music pours out of your open windows before you turn it down quickly.

The universe is screaming at him to talk to you when he starts hearing that familiar Tears for Fears song, 'Head Over Heels'.

Please don't pull away, please don't pull away.

He nearly sprints across the parking lot out of fear of missing his chance. Upon reaching the car, he knocks on the back window, pulling you from looking for something in the console.

"Hi..." He says awkwardly, approaching the window. Leaning on the door, he smiles as you smile back.

"Hi. You need something?" He gets so agitated that you smirk up at him.

'Why'd you have to be so God damn pretty?'

"Sorry if this is weird, but I had to talk to you." He started, finally being able to say something. Your eyes go half shut with a soft nod.

"Talk to me?" He nods, clenching the door frame for a second. "Go ahead then. Talk."

His eyes go wide in surprise at your sudden confidence. Steve stammered for a second.

"Uh... At the risk of sounding crazy or desperate... You're probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life." You can feel your body warm up as he gives the most genuine smile you've seen on a man in a while.

"Mmhm, go on."

"Are you by chance single? Or like... Are you even attracted to men at all?" He asks, sheepishly smiling.

"Yes, and yes." Your smirk slowly turns into a grin as he squats to eye level now, feeling a bit more confident after your answer.

"I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington." He smiles again hearing you reply with your name. "Are you new to Hawkins?"

"I am actually. I just moved here from the city and needed to stay nearby for school."

"Where are you going?"

"Trine University." His eyes go wide, the same school he goes to. What are the odds?

"Really? I actually go there too. Education major." You look him up and down. You never pegged him for the teacher type.

"Software Engineering major."

"So you're smart and gorgeous. Good to know." He smirks, finally feeling like himself when talking as your flush finally becomes noticeable. "You like movies?"

"What kind of psychopath doesn't like movies?" He laughs at your response, leaning in closer to the window.

"Lemme be more specific. The new Halloween 5 movie came out today. You interested in seeing it? Maybe with me tonight at the drive-in theater in Lafayette. We can have dinner after. All my treat, of course." He can see the sparkle in your eyes, that spark he felt looking at you before is still lingering around him.

"What's in it for me?" You playfully ask. He cocks his head to the side, leaning it on his arm for a second.

"A fun night out with a gentleman, I promise I'm fun." You chuckle, rolling your eyes, he knows you want to say yes. "Please?"

He'd never said please before when asking a girl out. It didn't feel embarrassing like he thought it would. You turn your attention back to the console looking for something.

Pulling out a napkin and pen, you quickly write down your number and address. Turning back, you hold it out to him as he takes it.

"I'm free at 8. And dress nicely. You're taking me somewhere decent after the movie."

"I'll take you to the most expensive restaurant I can find if that's what you want. I don't care. As long as I get to see you again." You laugh at his bluntness, it's like music to his ears.

"That won't be necessary. I don't need to be spoiled."

"What if I want to spoil you?" That caught you off guard as you didn't respond right away. He let a soft breath escape his mouth. "You like roses?"

"White roses." You reply, he nods, standing up again and folding the napkin, storing it in his back jean pocket for safe keeping.

"I'll be sure to remember that." You two just stare at each other in silence for a minute. No man's ever looked at you like Steve has right now, it makes your heart race from nervousness.

"I'll see you at 8 o'clock then." You look past him for a moment and back to him. "Tell your friends I said hello since they like to stare so much."

Raising an eyebrow, Steve turned his head. He sees Robin poking her head over the roof of the car and Dustin sitting on the rolled down window frame. They quickly hurry back into the car, noticing they've been caught. He should be embarrassed, but he fully expects their behavior from being friends for so long.

"Ignore them." Steve says, sighing as he looks back at you. "I'll see you at 8."

He turned away towards his car, trying to stay as confident as he was before turning his back. Reaching his car, he pops the door open, clutching it for dear life as he silently collects himself. Robin poked her head across the driver's seat to look up at him.

"You good dude?" She asks, concerned but also excited as he just nods.

You pull out of your parking spot, stopping behind his car and honk once to get his attention. Dustin pops his head out the back window as Robin looks out her open door. Steves head snaps up at you as you lean on your window frame, chin on fist with the most shit eating grin on your face.

"See you at 8 sexy~" You called to him. And then you have the balls to blow him a kiss before peeling out of the parking lot.

Steve silently gets in the car. Robin shuts her door as Steve does his. Dustin sits forward looking at Steve, who's just gripping his steering wheel, the adrenaline starting to wear off.

"Dude, she's so into you, into you!" Dustin breaks the silence as Robin nods.

"And I'd say it's the same for Harrington here." Robin grins as a massive smile spreads across Steve's face.

He starts excitedly thrashing frontwards and backwards. Enough to shake the car and look like he's about to rip the steering wheel from it's column. He lets out an excited yell, causing his two friends to laugh at him.

He let out a long breath, looking at them.

"She says hi by the way."

[reasonsforhope]

"“Always ask yourself: Why is this lying bastard lying to me?” Perhaps these blunt words of advice for journalists interviewing politicians, attributed to the late foreign correspondent Louis Heren, have endured because they are seen as self-evidently true. That politicians lie is viewed as established fact. 

Public confidence in lawmakers plunged to a record low last year in the wake of Partygate and other scandals: only 9% of British adults polled by Ipsos said that they trust politicians to tell the truth. Without trust, says Jennifer Nadel of the thinktank Compassion in Politics, faith in democracy is undermined. “If we can’t trust what politicians are saying, how can we decide who to vote for? We need to be able to rely on our politicians to tell the truth,” she explains. 

Compassion in Politics has long been campaigning to introduce criminal penalties for political lying, with a petition launched in 2019 attracting more than 200,000 signatures. In a surprise move two days before the UK’s general election, the Welsh government committed to passing legislation that would make lying illegal for Senedd members and candidates, having previously opposed the measure. Under the plans, those found guilty of deliberate deception by an independent judicial process would be disqualified from office. 

“We’re excited and optimistic,” Nadel says. “It’s unprecedented that the government has agreed to take this measure forward.” Although some countries have limited penalties for politicians who lie during election campaigning or when giving evidence to committees, Wales is the first in the world to propose legislation that would apply more broadly to lawmakers and candidates. 

Compassion in Politics’ next challenge is to persuade Westminster to follow suit by banning MPs and parliamentary candidates from lying.  

The campaign sprung from concern at the rapid normalisation of lies in politics. “We are slipping at an alarming speed into a post-truth era,” says Nadel. “We only have to look at what is happening in the United States.”

Fact-checkers at the Washington Post found that Donald Trump made 30,573 false or misleading claims during his presidency, averaging about 21 a day. “America is a warning of what can happen if this problem is allowed to go unchecked,” Nadel believes. “[Our proposals] are designed to stop [the UK] from getting to that stage.” 

Polling shows wide public approval for the measure, with 72% backing criminal penalties for politicians found guilty of deliberate lying in an Opinium survey conducted for Compassion in Politics in May. Though it is not yet clear whether Wales would make lying a criminal offence, Nadel says: “If the same goal of disqualifying politicians who deliberately misrepresent the facts can be achieved through using the civil law, then we’re happy.” 

A private member’s bill to ban lying in Westminster, introduced by Plaid Cymru MP Liz Saville Roberts in 2022, had cross-party support. “We will be looking to build [on that] and win the support of the Labour government to introduce the measure,” Nadel says... 

“I think it’s important to signal a different set of norms, and try to arrest a slide towards the acceptability of attempts to deceive in public life.” 

For Compassion in Politics, another challenge is persuading doubters that banning lying in politics is even possible. “There’s this belief that it’s too complex to stop,” says Nadel, who qualified as a barrister. “But the law prevents fraudulent misrepresentation in other walks of life. This is something that courts adjudicate on all the time. Why shouldn’t it apply to politicians?”"

-via Positive.News, July 26, 2024

[brieftimetravelwhispers]

On 26th October and even before that, Georgian Dream patry decided to steal elections in Georgia. The ruling party decided to strip us from our constitutional right to vote anonymously, they decided to steal our future and steer us back towards USSR, our dark past that promises us dark future.

In the last two years GD party has introduced at least two new laws that were used in Russia in past to solidify Putin's regime. Namely Law against foreign influence, that christens every NGO that is financed from abroad as an agent of foreign influence; and law regarding protecting family values and minors that forbids LGBTQ+ 'propaganda', meaning that symbolism associated to it, as well as literature, art or any kind of public expression that somehow informs about or includes non traditional family values, sexual orientation or gender identity is banned. We can no longer read Oedipus King in university, Sappho, Gilgamesh and many more starting from December, sections from cultural anthropology will be banned as well, and it's simply matter of time before critical skills and knowledge will no longer be reachable. This is authoritarian regime, where everything happens on a whim of one oligarch, what he says is a law for lawmakers, his slaves and he himself is subordinate of russian regiment.

Today, just several minutes ago, 'Parliament' declared itself legitimate, even though members of opposition are rejecting their seats, even though the President doesn't acknowledge fairness of elections, even though constitution clearly says that parliament needs at least 2/3 of deputies to do so. If that is not enough, constitutional court currently is discussing legitimacy of all 150 deputies per the Presidents suit, that automatically pauses working of the new parliament according to the constitution.

Georgia needs desperately to be in spotlight right now. Foreign support is all we have, as court, church, police is corrupt. Police keeps breaking up peaceful demonstations, beating up and jailing protesters, court keeps postponing their hearings as they know that the President, only pro-western institute right now, will use her right to pardon them and she wont be able to do that after her term is up in following months.

We've had painful past, full of protests, bloodshed and fighting for our nations survival. That's what being neighbour to Russia means for us. We won't stop fighting for our future and independence, won't let our ancestors sacrifice to be wasted.

20% of Georgia is occupied by Russia. And even today, there are some people, some georgians who prefer occupants claws, false sense of 'security' to fighting for our freedom.

This is not all, there's lot more that's impossible to fit in one post, for example GDPs pre election promises were pretty alarming, their rhetoric is horrendous, words they use are plain manipulative and dehumanising. They have their own pro government media that is brainwashing people and destroying every critical thinking brain cell. I am angry, I am disappointed and tired and so are hundreds of thousands.

Some sources about the situation:

[hyukassubi]

Sorry, The Food Is Cold...

Pairing : Husband!Beomgyu x Wife!Reader

Genre : Angst around the middle, bittersweet fluff at the end

Warnings : Aside from Beomgyu getting a little lonely, none!

Synopsis : Beomgyu waits patiently for his wife to return home from work. The clock keeps ticking, and the food is getting cold...

Content : Beomgyu being lonely for like 60% of the whole fic *sob sob*

Wc : 1.2k words

Tag : @itzzz-yerin

The store-bought gyoza sizzles on the pan. Beads of of sweat trickle down Beomgyu's forehead on this cold night, wiping them off with the back of his arm, sleeves pulled up to his elbows.

The only reason he'd pan-fry the entire bag is because he wanted to have someone to share his dinner with- his lover.

You.

And while flipping the wedges of gyoza-goodness, all he could think about was: 'this would go well with some tea'.

The thing is, you weren't even home.

These past couple of days, work had just been piling up on you. It didn't matter how much you enjoyed your work, too much of a good thing is never really a good thing.

But it paid your bills, and all you wanted for you and your husband was a comfy home the both of you could live in for the time being. So, night after night, the hours grew longer, and the longer it took for you to arrive home.

Beomgyu got used to skipping 'golden hour cafe dates' with you, or snuggling up on the couch talking about your work while crocheting that huge floral blanket of yours— you fiddled and played with the wool, he played and kissed your hair. Even hearing the trickle of water as you shower in the bathroom, humming a foreign melody, and he'd smile everytime he heard your voice.

But here he was, at home, couch empty, the only tunes available being the sizzling of oil on the pan and a couple arguing upstairs, and then, a ping on his phone—

A ping on his phone.

Beomgyu jolted to the sink, washing his hands way too fast before wiping them dry and then reaching to his phone and—

An hour had gone by.

Beomgyu finally stood up, skittering into the kitchen. Upon his five-minute search, he scavanged a hoard of tissues, neatly placing them over the dishes. Beomgyu checked his phone again for the first time in a while, only to receive two missed calls from… his high school dance club friends.

He chuckled, walking to… he didn’t know where.

The kitchen? He grabbed a tupperware full of orange slices and walked out.

The living room? The empty couch made without a body to hold to lay on his chest and hair to play with made the apartment seem all the more spacey.

The bedroom? Same reason as the couch, except instead of a couch sits a king sized bed that is empty, not to mention the lingering smell of fresh laundry and flower gardens coming from your closet full of your clothes that have your scent making Beomgyu remember flashes of you.

Beomgyu stood there, in a hall, in the middle of his apartment— your apartment—contemplating.

The balcony it is.

Two hours had gone by.

The thing about Beomgyu was that his voice box never dies out, even after a two hour talkathon with the boys, arguing about how rat infestations in Soobin’s apartment makes his place banned for boys night sleepovers because Beomgyu might just turn his entire kitchen into the korean Ratatouille live action no one asked for but didn’t know they needed.

An intriguing conversation indeed over muscats under the shining stars. Beomgyu settled down for the time being,tracing out figures of kitchenware and forest animals in the sky. Not long after, a semi-cold feeling brushes past him like a wailing ghost in search of heaven in mid-air.

He was lonely.

Beomgyu pressed his lips together, leaning forward from his seat. He thought, maybe if he looked closely enough, somewhere down there, he’d spot a tiny white car planted in the middle of the road, glued in place in that rat trap of traffic.

Except he does see that familiar tiny white car on the road.

Beomgyu’s eyes widened.

My wife!, he thought.

… Although it could just be someone else’s car-

The table started vibrating.

Beomgyu snapped out of his train of thoughts, clinging onto his phone.

“Beomgyu, darling,” that familiar voice that itched the right spots in Beomgyu’s brain flowed into his ears like honey, “I swear, I’m on my way home, it’s just— the traffic is absolutely horrendous right now.” You went on rambling about some sort of traffic light malfunction, a delay at work, bitter coffee that didn’t sit right with your tastebuds and Beomgyu continued to listen , phone pressed to his ears, eyes on the road below simply watching that tiny… little white car.

He didn’t know how long it took until, at some point during all that rambling, he cut your yapping short. “Sweetheart, give me ten minutes—”

“—Wait what do you mean ten min—”

Beomgyu hung up.

He raced to the kitchen, swaddling up two sets of cutlery inside cherry patterned napkins and a tupperware.

If you could drive into the sewers underground sprouting out of the pipes into your apartment, you… wouldn’t because water bills aren’t cheap, not in this economy.

Your forehead slams onto the steering wheel, a loud wail of your horn blaring for ten whole seconds. Home is literally a street-or-two-and-an-additional-U-turn away, you could’ve been home hours ago in the welcoming embrace of your husband, eating his simplistic yet mouth-watering store-bought dishes… holding each other closely while talking about… the future? Life?… Kids? That was still a mile or two hundred away into the future but… it wasn’t impossible now wasn’t it?

Your head fell onto the steering wheel once more.

And when you lifted it back up… Beomgyu???

What… What’s your husband doing on the sidewalk? Waving manically, bookmarking into the tight spaces between car after car.

“Open the roof.” He insisted, he yelled, he- Oh my God, he’s really gonna climb through there???

You felt— What did you feel? How did you feel about this? Is this even real? Your eyes fell on Beomgyu’s left hand, holding onto a small bag.

The roof of the car slid open.

And so did Beomgyu.

Smooth as silk, he dropped into the car.

The roof closed shut.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your question came out confused and flustered all at the same time.

Beomgyu crawled into the passenger seat, unknotting the cloth of the bag. “Thought I’d get some fresh air and make a small delivery!” he passed a fogged up tuperware your way.

For a moment, all you could do is blink. You just blinked. And then, in the next moment, Beomgyu’s tuperware wasn’t clutched in his hand anymore. “This is why I love you so much.” You opened the tuperware, that salty-sweet scent of sauce looming in the congested air.

Beomgyu chuckled. “Because I cook passable food?” Another chuckle, more awkward than the last. “Sorry, the food is cold.”

“Well… you’re thoughtful.” You started slow, swirling a piece of gyoza around the sea of soy sauce. “You’re loving, you’re you. You’re all I want.”

It definitely wasn’t the trick of a million headlights surrounding the happy couple— Choi Beomgyu was blushing, ever so faintly, looking away.

You placed a hand on Beomgyu’s jaw, plopping a piece into his mouth. “Eat up.”

A/n: I had a friend group later in my highschool days whom I thought of as my girl gang once. I've matured since then once I realized how lonely and misunderstood they made me felt, not because they were bad people in any way, but we had different love languages and communication styles the more we grew older *starts playing 'drama' by txt*. I wanted to encapsulate this lonely feeling in the form of a fanfiction, though it is neither of the two parties faults. I wanted to write something that didn't make making a bold/first move feel like walking over eggshells.

🫶 Reblog and review if you like my work 🫶

[erotetica]

Fuck Trump, here’s all the civil rights orgs I know:

(Most have education pages and/or socials to follow and boost if u can’t donate right now)

LGBTQ+

Trevor Project—queer crisis hotline/counseling (NOTE THAT THEY CALL POLICE IN CERTAIN SITUATIONS)

List of Crisis Hotlines/etc compiled by Inclusive Therapists .com which DON’T CALL POLICE

Point of Pride—helps trans folks having trouble accessing gender affirming healthcare

Trans Lifeline—community support/resources/financial aid for trans folks

REPRODUCTIVE RIGHTS

National Network of Abortion Funds—financial assistance/transport/childcare for people in ban states seeking abortions.

Brigid Alliance—same

Sister Song—reproductive justice for WOC

Indigenous Women Rising—helps Indigenous families access abortions/menstrual hygiene/midwifery/etc

Afiya Center—reproductive justice/HIV care for Black womxn in Texas

Abortion access orgs for Americans in the

Midwest

South

Appalachia (they also offer free emergency contraception/support services/etc)

RACIAL JUSTICE

NYU Law Center on Race Inequality—self-education resources on racism & antiblackness/how to contact elected officials/how to protest safely.

List of orgs protecting Black Americans, compiled by NYU (incl NAACP, Audre Lorde Project, BLM, Black Voters Matter, etc)

National Immigration Law Center—fighting for asylum seeking/DACA; helping immigrants access healthcare/worker’s rights/etc

American Civil Liberties Union—working on many intersectional initiatives

Southern Poverty Law Center—same

GLOBAL AID (While we Americans wait for shoes to start dropping, let’s not forget others in need, and that Trump’s atrocious foreign policies will affect everyone!)

World Central Kitchen—hunger relief

Action Against Hunger—same

War Child—supports and educates children in conflict zones, like Yemen and DRC

Medecins Sans Frontieres— medical aid

Islamic Relief USA—emergency aid

PALESTINIAN AID

Palestine Children’s Relief Fund— medical aid for kids

Anera— emergency relief & long-term development resources for Palestine, Lebanon, Jordan

United Nations Relief and Works Agency—aid for Palestinian refugees in Lebanon/Syria/West Bank/Gaza/Jordan

Palestine Red Crescent Society—medical aid

SUDANESE AID

List of humanitarian orgs working in Sudan, compiled by 500 Words Magazine

CONGOLESE AID

Panzi Foundation—supports assault survivors & their families

Eastern Congo Initiative—supports ands funds local/community-based Congolese efforts

Please reblog, & add any legitimate humanitarian organizations you know of! I love all of you!!

[lunaeclipse1057-ao3]

Hi guys! I'm here to tell you about some of the stuff Project 2025 would do to America.

Number One: Making America a Christian Nation. What this means is the separation of church and state would be gone, and Trump will implement a "Bible-based system of government". Practicing other religions could be banned.

Number Two: Climate Change. Project 2025 will be completely removing most of the nation's regulations to help our environment. Abandoning ways to reduce greenhouse gases, abolishing the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, relaxing regulations on fossil fuels, encouraging fossil fuel usage, and supporting arctic drilling.

Number 3: Letting states control education. No more nationwide education, every state chooses what it wants to do. Possibility of removing accommodation plans for students who need it, no more free school meals even for free and reduced lunch plans, and the quote "Education is a private rather than a public good."

Number 4: Giving the president more power. The branches of government are supposed to balance each other out, make sure no one branch gets too powerful. This will make that a lot harder.

Number 5: Foreign Affairs. Congressional approval would not be required for the sale of military equipment and ammunition to a foreign nation. Also "The word gender would be systematically purged from all USAID programs and documents"???? "Such aid will not be allocated for helping poorer countries address the impact of climate change; rather, it will be devoted to advancing the interests of fossil fuel companies"????

Number 6: Healthcare. Removing Medicare's ability to negotiate medicine prices, denying gender-affirming care to trans people, forcing people to have a nuclear family basically.

Number 7: All of this bullshit. It's all shit, but please take a look at the last sentence of paragraph 4: "Trump has also spoken of rounding up homeless people in blue cities and detaining them in camps."

Number 8: LGBTQ community. "Proposes the recognition of only heterosexual men and women, the removal of protection against discrimination on the basis of sexual or gender identity, and the elimination of provisions pertaining to diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) from federal legislation." "The goal here is to move toward colorblindness and to recognize that we need to have laws and policies that treat people like full human beings not reducible to categories, especially when it comes to race." THEN LET US BE WHO WE ARE. THIS IS THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION OF WHAT YOU ARE SAYING.

Number 9: Banning pornography. Just let people be people. We have needs. Let us be. Especially when Trump had that sneaky link that led him being charged on 34 counts.

Number 10: Abortion. Are we really going to let white males who don't know where the clitoris is decide what Women get to do with their bodies? You said in the pornography thing that it leads to the exploration of women, but isn't this doing the exact same thing?

In conclusion, Project 2025 would take away numerous rights that we deserve as human beings, including, but not limited to, having a clean environment, the right to an education, access to necessary medication, freedom of expression, sexual media, women's choice with their own bodies, and possibly freedom of religion, one of America's first amendment rights.

I'm scared. I am a queer minor with school accommodations, who has no way out of America.

I don't want to flunk out of high school because my accommodations got taken away from me.

I don't want to have a child at all, let alone before I turn 18 because I got raped and can't get an abortion because of what the government says I can and can't do with my body.

I don't want to be trapped in an area where I can barely breathe because of all the pollutants in the air.

I don't want to be discriminated against, harassed, or dehumanized because of my gender identity and sexuality.

I don't want to be forced to be a Christian.

I'm scared of my own country, and what it could do to me. I don't want to die.

Vote Blue. Or else America could be turned into a suppressive dictatorship.

Note: I will be unpinning this because there have been a lot of comments that make me think I may have said some things wrong in this post. I don't want to completely remove it, because a lot of people have reblogged it to spread information, but I will be removing it from my pin.

[leftistfeminista]

A poster of a female cadre photographed by Christian Freund. Source: Center for the Study of Political Graphics (CSPG).

Women’s Liberation

A striking aspect of the popular revolutionary movement in Dhufar was the PFLOAG’s commitment to the liberation of women, a policy that was adopted at the 1968 Hamrin Conference. The PFLOAG believed that the liberation of women was central to the success of the revolution which would not come about automatically but through a sustained struggle against the “objective backwardness” of society.  1 The Dhufar Revolution was influenced by Maoist thought, including on the equality of female cadres, popularised through Mao’s famous declaration that “women can hold up half the sky”.  2 Women’s political participation in the armed struggle alongside men was deemed an important aspect of equality while specific policies were later implemented in the liberated areas to transform the social position of women, such as the banning of female circumcision, polygyny, and the reduction of the bride price after unsuccessful attempts to abolish it completely.

The PFLOAG’s policies remarkably challenged the “unhappy marriage” between feminism and Marxism, as conceptualised by the Western feminist scholar Heidi Hartmann in 1979 – in other words, the tension between women’s liberation and national liberation. 3 The PFLOAG recognised the double oppression faced by women, both in terms of their position as women in relation to men, and in terms of their position as women in relation to the economic system. Attracted to the PFLOAG’s radical position, the Lebanese filmmaker Heiny Srour travelled to Dhufar in 1971, capturing documentary footage of women fighters later used in her 1974 film The Hour of Liberation Has Arrived (Saat El Tahrir Dakkat). 4

I was a defeated feminist in Lebanon. The Lebanese Left was not interested in feminist issues and kept closing the subject under various pretexts, one being that the women will be free when the main enemy, Imperialism, is defeated. […] I couldn’t believe my ears when the representative of the Popular Front for the Liberation of the Occupied Arabian Gulf opened the subject of women from his own initiative and proudly said that the Front was fighting against women’s oppression — because women were not just oppressed by imperialism and class society, but also by their father, husband, brothers. I dropped my other film projects and put all my energy into making this film.  5”

— Heiny Srour on The Hour of Liberation Has Arrived

The campaigns for, and implementation of, the above mentioned policies came through the initiatives of revolutionary women, the Bahraini cadre Laila Fakhro (Huda Salem) for example pushed the PFLOAG to ban female circumcision and limit the bride price. 6 Laila Fakhro also played an important role in the revolution through political education, teaching, care-work, women’s activities, and the PFLOAG’s media and foreign relations. 7 The PFLOAG’s other main periodical, 9 Yunyu (9 June), was a monthly magazine which preceded Sawt al-Thawra’s founding, set up in June 1970 by Laila Fakhro and Abdel Rahman al-Nuaimi (Said Seif). 8

Sawt al-Thawra promoted women’s political participation in armed struggle, drawing parallels to female fighters such as Vietnamese women and thereby placing the PFLOAG’s revolutionary women in the wider tradition of the revolutionary Third World. The periodical highlighted and documented women’s protest, arrests and mistreatment of women and girls by the British-backed regime, and women’s internationalist activities. Women’s representatives and delegations took part in many regional and international conferences, prior to and after the official establishment of the Omani Women’s Organisation in June 1975, a committee headed by Wafa Yasser.

The first official visit by an Omani women’s delegation, comprising Nadia Khaled and Huda Muhad, took place in July 1975 in a symposium on women’s economic development organised by the Soviet Women’s Committee in Alma-Ata, Soviet Republic of Kazakhstan. Following this trip to the Soviet Union, the delegation visited the Democratic Republic of Vietnam at the invitation of the Women’s Federation of Vietnam. 9 These encounters were important for producing strong ties of solidarity, the exchange of experiences and ideas, and direct engagement with a major source of their own inspiration, the Vietnamese people’s struggle. Most significantly, these material links demonstrate that Dhufar was not a detached revolution in a little-known and distant part of the Gulf, but one that was globally connected and which importantly placed emphasis on women’s political participation.

[megamindsecretlair]

Let Me Hold You

Pairing: Tyrone x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, virginity loss, shy reader, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink if you squint, Soft Tyrone, all consensual. Mentions of religion, God, and Christian-leaning faith. Sorry if I miss any!

Summary: Ask: ...the reader is a virgin church girl, who, finds herself entangled in a predicament when her parents forbid her to be with the charismatic Tyrone. Despite this, the reader has a genuine friendship with him. They have crushes on each other but do not know how to tell each other.

Word Count: 5,803

A/N: Welp. This healed and broke some things in me! LOL. This was a wonderful ask from @notapradagurl7. I'm SO sorry this took forever to get out, I felt so bad. I hope this was worth the wait. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland

“And we don’t want you hanging out with that - that boy!” Your father paced the living room floor, his loafers kicking up the delicate fibers. 

“What?” You shrieked. Already, fear spiked into your heart. The thought of not seeing Tyrone? It was inconceivable. You looked toward your mother who perched on the end of the plump chair, proper as you please. She kept her eyes on your father. You wouldn’t get any help from her.

“I’m an adult, you can’t ban me from seeing my friends,” you protested. Did he really think he was serious? 

“It’s not appropriate for you to spend time with someone like him. If you’re to entertain anyone, there are plenty of nice young men at the church.” 

“Malcolm just returned from college to be an engineer. I always knew that boy was smart,” your mother chirped in. 

Your eyes darted between your parents. You half expected aliens to burst from their necks. These people were foreign to you. Unique in their united anger for Tyrone, a boy you’ve known your entire life. 

“Judge not lest ye be judged,” you quoted. Your mother scoffed and glared at you as if you said you wanted to shake your ass for Satan’s minions. Your father stopped his pacing and gawked at you. Like you were the foreign one. A daughter he didn’t recognize. 

“No daughter of mine will hang around someone like that boy. Peddling that poison to people in this community,” your father said. 

“That boy has been nothing but nice to us. A boy you watched grow up. A boy you assume is doing dirt,” you countered. What episode of the Twilight Zone was this? 

“I have eyes,” your father said. “And I see what’s going on. All the people running in and out of his house, his mother’s house I might add, and bumping that music…”

“I still live at home. Are you going to judge me for that too?” You asked. Your father pressed his lips together. 

“It’s different for women,” your mother said as if it were a fact. 

You tuned your parents out as they tried to tell you the difference between young men and young women. You didn’t have the heart to listen anymore. Your blood roared in your ears and you stared off into space, trying to calm down. 

You stood up suddenly. You needed to be anywhere but here. Looking into their judgemental faces. You made one mistake. Funny how they didn’t take into consideration all of the times you were a “good girl”. How you minded your Ps and Qs your entire life. Never did anything bad. Never wanted to do anything bad.

And now, they wanted to effectively place you under house arrest. Only leaving for school or church. This was not the stone ages. You couldn’t sit here under this oppressive weight. Constantly holding yourself to a higher standard. 

What higher standard? Did God really think that oppressing women was the ticket into Heaven? Placing all of these restrictions was the ultimate symbol of propriety? What happened to love thy neighbor? 

Your parents called after you, but you kept moving. You’d never defied them. You always deferred to them. They had experiences you didn’t and just wanted you to have a good life. Bullshit. They wanted a little doll to dress up and tote around town. 

At the door, you slipped into your flats and left the house. No purse, no phone, no keys. It felt…invigorating. That type of freedom was intoxicating. Your parents’ indignant shouts followed you out of the house but they didn’t come to the door. 

You took that opportunity to head down the block towards Tyrone’s house. You hoped he was home. You hadn’t had a chance to check your phone before your parents ambushed you.

His house looked dark for once. There were no cars bunched up in front of the house or thumping music coming from the front door. You ran up the steps and knocked on the metal door.

The cold air caught up to you, edging past the heat of your anger. It could only warm you up so far. There were no sounds coming from the house so you knocked again. It was still earlyish but you didn’t want to be loud and disrespect his mom. 

“Yeah,” Tyrone called out sleepily. You suppressed a smile. Just hearing his voice instantly calmed you down.

You heard a series of locks and bolts being undone. Tyrone swung the door open. He called out your name and looked behind you. 

“What’s up? We were s’posed to meet?” He asked.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

“Always,” he said. He moved out of the way and let you enter his darkened house. You took in the space and got a chilling sense of loneliness here. You didn’t know why. Tyrone closed the door and locked it.

“I was sleep. Come on,” he said. He took your hand and led you to his room. Inside, the sudden light gave you a tiny ache in your eyes and you rubbed them. Tyrone sat on his bed, leaning one leg up onto the mattress. 

You remained standing, suddenly shy. You hated feeling unsettled wherever you went. Even in the company of your friends, you paid attention to everything you said. Were you being weird? Were you not talking enough? It was all incredibly awkward whenever you tried to join the conversation and people had already moved on to the next topic. 

“What’s up?” Tyrone asked.

You sighed and recounted everything that happened with your parents. You paced his small but comfy room, poking at random objects on his desk or hanging on his wall. He had wrinkled Lakers posters torn in one corner. You picked at it as you spoke, not wanting to look him in the face while you spoke and ranted and raved about your judgy, overbearing parents. 

Tyrone was a great listener. He never interrupted you, he kept his comments to a minimum, and when you were brave enough to look at him, he’d nod for you to continue. So you did. You told him everything, even the part about your parents judging him for his side hustle. 

“They don’t want you to see me anymore because of that?” He asked. 

You nodded and sat on the bed next to him. “I told them they’re nuts. They can’t ban me from seeing you, I’m not sixteen,” you said.

“You were pretty cute when you were sixteen,” he said.

“Shut up! I’m trying to be serious here!” You pushed his shoulder. He moved as if you were strong, but you knew that he let you. Tyrone had always been an immovable force. He moved through life like it owed him money and he was coming to collect. He had a surety about himself that kept you up all night thinking of him. 

Your hand lingered on his bare arms, taking in his large biceps. His navy tank top hung just so, highlighting his broad smooth chest. He wore his signature black basketball shorts and you quickly removed your hand. You should not be having these thoughts about your best friend. 

“I’m serious too!” He said and chuckled. He quickly sobered up and glanced at you. “I’d miss you if I couldn’t see you.” 

You smiled slowly. “You’d only miss the chips I bring you,” you said. 

“Naw, I’d miss you. I’d have to stage a breakout or something,” he said. 

You laughed, picturing hopping into Tyrone’s getaway car just to drive a few houses down. Bonnie and Clyde ya’ll were not. 

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “There’s nothing that can keep us apart,” you said. You stuck out your pinkie finger. Tyrone looked at it and laughed, shaking his head and licking his lips. 

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, so you know I’m serious,” you said. You pushed your hand into his chest to urge him to do it with you. He shook his head again and wrapped his pinkie around yours. 

“So what you gonna do since they dropped the hammer?” Tyrone asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said. You tucked your legs under you, holding down your dress so no one got a free show. You played with the hem. “I wish they’d see me as an individual instead of an extension of their dead hopes and dreams.” 

“I feel that. You’re just gonna have to prove that you grown now,” he said with a shrug. 

“There’s nothing I can do. They’ll only see me as a goody two shoes who’s always ready with a smile. Like, I don’t have feelings or something? I’d have to rob a bank or have…” You trailed off as the intrusive thought came to you. 

You became very interested in your dress as you played with the rolled hem. “Have what?” Tyrone prompted.

You hummed and shrugged. “Lost my train of thought. Point is, I’m tired of living and dying by their own expectations,” you said. 

The thought didn’t leave you though. In fact, the more you turned it around in your head, the hotter it got in the room. Your imagination ran away from you, providing images of a naked Tyrone standing over you. Bending you over. Calling you dirty names. You shifted on the bed as the images became a little too vibrant.

You usually indulged in your fantasies late at night, safe and comfortable in your head where no one would know except you. It was harmless to be as nasty as you wanted, getting yourself worked up and needy but ultimately not doing anything about it. Could you imagine trying to order a sex toy and have it sent to the house? Trying to hide the buzz buzz as you got yourself off? It was either the towel on the pillow or your own fingers but once you felt awkward, it was hard to get back into the mood. 

“So don’t live by their expectations. What do you wanna do?” He asked. 

You glanced at him. He treated it as seriously as possible and that only made your heart melt. He was the bestest friend you could have hoped for, growing up together. But would you always be someone he grew up with? Forced to talk about his conquests over and over and wishing it were you? 

You licked your lips and faced him. You sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. Your heart thundered in your chest. You felt the steady beat all over, thumping in your arms and in your head. Now or never. 

“What would you say to a crazy idea?” You asked. 

Tyrone shifted to allow you more room on the bed. “What kind of crazy idea?” He asked slowly. 

You smiled at the mistrust in his voice. You were kind of known for some out of pocket schemes. It was not your fault that Mrs. Edwards came home early that one time. How were you supposed to know? 

You lost a bit of your nerve, looking down at your fingers. You gripped your dress hard, your fingers pressing the thin fabric. “What would you say if I asked you to take my virginity?” 

You risked a glance at him. He was frozen solid, gaping at you. After a moment, he blew out a breath. “Wait, what?” 

“I am tired of doing what people expect of me. Nothing is ever good enough and I never get anything out of the deal. I want something for myself. I want to have sex. I want to have sex with you,” you said. 

He tilted his head so you forged on, explaining why you wanted to have sex. “And I know it might be a little weird considering we’re friends but I’m pretty sure you’re not seeing someone right now? Right? Because I’d rather it be with someone I trust, at least the first time…” You rambled. You were rambling and you couldn’t make yourself stop. You heard the words. You said the words. But you couldn’t find a way to disconnect your brain from your mouth. “And you’re totally free to say no. Like, we can totally forget I asked.” 

After you crawled into a cave or yeeted yourself off of a cliff, surely you could be around Tyrone and not think of this stupid situation. 

You opened your mouth to ramble more because he was just sitting there, but he captured your lips with his. His hands cupped your jaw and pulled you into it, moving your lips against his. Your hands gripped his, but not to push him away. You held him there and kissed him back. Tyrone ran the tip of his tongue to trace around your lips. You gasped and he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how long I been wanting to do that,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“Wait, what?” You asked. Your head was pleasantly fuzzy. Like you were full of fluffy clouds. “You’ve been wanting to kiss me?”

“Every time I see you. You got kissable lips,” he said. He made his point by kissing you again, humming low in his throat. He pulled away and ran his thumb across your lips. Each pass of his lips on yours or his calloused fingers on you only made your head fuzzier. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling yourself get more and more worked up.

“Why didn’t you ever say? Especially after ninth grade!” There was once upon a time where you two had danced at the high school you attended. You had found a dark-ish corner away from the chaperones and told Tyrone that you’d never been kissed. He had laid one on you, probably not well now that you thought about it, but it had been so precious to you. He ended it by saying, “Now you have”, and walked away. 

The memory was always bittersweet. But hell, it was still your first kiss. 

“I was a dumb ass kid. I didn’t know how to tell you I liked you more than a friend,” he said. 

Warmth spread from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. This lonely torch you’d been holding for Tyrone wasn’t one sided. You looked into his molten brown eyes and smiled, not knowing how to properly process this new information.

In fact, it blew you away that you were here at this moment. Who knew your holier-than-thou parents were good for something? 

“And now?” You asked.

Tyrone removed his hands from your face and you missed them instantly. He grabbed one of your hands, pulling it across his lap so that you could cup him. You gasped at the sheer size of him. Despite common myths, you have seen a dick before. But you’d never touched one. Held one. Sucked on one. 

Your mouth went dry at the thought. You wanted to suck him, but what if you were bad at it? Your lip rolled in between your teeth and you bit down, wondering the mechanics of it all. 

“Well, you did ask me for something huge. Are you sure?” He asked. His voice held a strange, raspy quality to it. You flicked your eyes back to him and he was breathing a little faster. Oh shit, he really did like you. How the hell did you miss it? 

“I’m very sure,” you said. You pressed your hand in more, stroking him over his basketball shorts. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he opened them and grinned at you. 

“I’ll do it. But I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me if you don’t like something or if you want to stop, okay?” 

You nodded. “I promise. I’m a big girl, I can use my words,” you said. Your hands still moved over him and you must’ve been doing something right because his breaths left him in quick bursts. He rubbed his face and gripped his jaw, eyes tightly shut. 

“Okay, okay,” he said. He stilled your hand on him and moved it off. “Okay, okay. Virgin. Have you done anything? Gotten eaten out?” He asked.

You sighed and shook your head. “Yeah, I just snuck them up to my room while my dad was busy in the kitchen,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled. “Okay, smart ass. Give me a minute. I’m like…I don’t wanna just jump on you even though I want to,” he said. He stood up and rubbed his hands together, jumping in place. 

You giggled. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one,” you said. And you were! Your nerves were shot. Your hands trembled thinking of what the hell you were about to get into. You had fantasized it so many times, wondering who it would be. Sometimes wishing it were Tyrone. And while you didn’t think it would be all glitzy like they do in the movies, you did think you’d be married. Or at least in a steady relationship.

As you looked at Tyrone though, you were glad it was with someone you were comfortable with. Someone who took your usual anxiety from 100% to about 65%. 

Tyrone smirked. “If you knew the thoughts I be having about you…you might run out that door,” he said. “I’m trying to do this right.” 

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t treat me like some glass doll,” you said. You titled your head and stared him down. “You forgetting I know all your nasty little secrets?” 

Tyrone chuckled and squeezed your hand. “Shut up. That’s different. I ain’t care about them, but I do care about you. Don’t ever treat this shit as casual,” he said. 

You sucked your teeth. “Not you too. I promise, I’m not going around opening my legs for any man that wants it,” you said. You were about to go on a tirade about how it was your body and your rules. Tyrone shut you up with another kiss, tugging on your bottom lip. 

“The thought of anyone else in between your legs makes me angry,” he whispered against your lips.

“Angry?” 

He nodded and continued to kiss you, sliding his hands up and down your arms. His warm, big hands chased away any lingering chill from outside. He slowly knelt so that he wasn’t bending at an awkward angle. 

His knees sank to the floor and he nestled himself in between your thighs. His hands continued to travel down, squeezing your hips, your outer thighs. Your hands held on to his shoulders, kneading and massaging his back. He moaned into your mouth and a delicious tingle went up your spine. 

“Mhm, so don’t say that shit no more,” he said. 

“You can’t expect…”

His hands crept closer to your pussy and you ended your sentence on a squeak. Heat rose up your neck and cheek. “Relax,” he said. You took a few deep breaths, nodding, but you were as stiff as a board. Tyrone stopped moving his hand and kept it on your thigh.

“You gotta relax. And let me do this for you,” he said. His thumb pressed into your thigh and your body caved in. He somehow zeroed in on a knot and his thumb worked it out. “Oh fuck,” you said. 

“Mhm, you’ll feel better in a minute. But you gotta relax for me,” he said.

Sure, as if you could snap your fingers and relax. Wouldn’t you know it, anxiety was a light switch you could flick on and off at your leisure. Tyrone must’ve seen your thoughts play across your face, because he chuckled. 

“Do you have any fuckin’ idea how sexy you are?” He asked.

“What?” You asked. The question caught you off guard. You knew you were gorgeous, you knew you were working with some thick thighs and a pretty tummy. But sexy? Somehow, you missed the memo about sex appeal. You swore that guys could see “virgin” stamped across your forehead.

“Mhm. Whenever you walk out the house in one of these dresses, I just keep picturing how you look underneath. If that pussy nice and pink and wet.” His voice went deeper, harsher, bringing with it dark, carnal promises.

Your thighs tingled. Your hands shook. You bit your bottom lip to keep from moaning like a ho. Tyrone kissed your jaw, then moved up to your ear. “You nice and wet for me? You want me to play with it right?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, play with it,” you said.

Tyrone moved his hand up. Your thighs were burning hot from where they rested against each other. Tyrone nudged you to open your legs. He hummed while he kissed along your ear. “I wonder if you taste as good you feel.”

You dropped your head against him. “You can’t be saying shit like that,” you said.

“Look at you, with your little potty mouth,” he said.

“Shut up, Tyrone!” 

He only laughed and finally, blessedly, reached your core. He played with the edges of your panties, seeing the way you squirmed and moaned. He slipped his finger past the material and cursed under his breath.

“Damn, all of that for me? How you gon’ run home to Daddy with panties this soaked?” Tyrone asked.

You stuttered out a response. How were you supposed to form a coherent sentence when his fingers were on you? His fingers glided in between your slick folds, pushing past your pussy lips, and tracing the outside of your clit.

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your mouth dropped in a tiny little ‘o’ and Tyrone’s eyes narrowed as he took in your expression. He kissed you once, too quickly for your taste, and smirked at you.

“You gotta stop being so damn cute,” he said. “Makes me want to do all kinds of nasty shit to you.” 

You moaned, picturing those disgusting things. His thumb rubbed over your clit and you scrunched up your face in pleasure. 

How was it that this felt infinitely different and better than when you did it to yourself? He knew exactly what to do, taking cues from your moans and grunts and pretty gasps. You sent up a prayer, thankful that this was with someone experienced. Then again, God probably wasn’t listening right about now.

Tyrone traced slow circles on your clit. You looked through your lashes at his smug face. He knew he was driving you wild. You hissed and jerked when he got to a particularly sensitive spot. “Shh, shh, breathe,” he said. 

He held your gaze as you took in deep breaths. Your belly flipped and tightened, the beginning stirrings of something naughty making its way to the surface. Your gaze traveled down. Tyrone’s hand was completely under your dress. It was somehow hotter that you couldn’t see what he was doing to you.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” You moaned.

“Mhm, pray to him for mercy. Because you ain’t gettin’ that shit from me,” Tyrone’s raspy voice was like its own arrow of desire. Your thighs shook. Your feet dangled over the side of the bed. Your toes curled. 

“Tyrone, please,” you said. You gripped his shoulders. His smooth brown skin shone with its own light. 

“Let me take these panties off,” Tyrone said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said. 

Tyrone stopped rubbing your clit. “No,” you growled. What the hell was he doing? You were so close! Your belly still felt tight, overripe like at any moment you would burst. 

Tyrone chuckled and lifted your dress. The fabric drew across your thighs like scorching fire. You hissed. You were on a precipice and any movement would hurt or hinder. You didn’t want to find out which. 

Tyrone pushed your dress up to your hips. Then, he grabbed the top of your panties and moved it down. He held you as you lifted up and slipped them off your ass. He smiled. “Never thought I’d get to see you like this,” he said.  

“I’m glad it’s you,” you said and smiled.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said. “Remember to breathe for me.”

He kept your gaze as he pushed your legs over his shoulders. He grabbed your hips and pulled you forward until your ass was half hanging off of the bed. You cried out and he kissed your thighs until you calmed down.

Your heart beat in your pussy. The throb throb throb drove you mad. You were needy. You needed something more, anything more. 

Tyrone blew a breath across your wet pussy and you cried out, jerking your hips. Tyrone only locked his arms around you, curling his biceps around your thigh. “Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Tyrone flattened his tongue and licked you from your pussy to your clit and back down again. A choppy moan left you. Your back bowed off of the bed. Your hands gripped the front of your dress. It wasn’t enough to hold so you moved your hands down to grip the bunched up hem. 

He ran his nose through your folds. He inhaled. “Smell so fuckin’ good, got damn,” he said. “Pretty ass pussy.”

He then drew his tongue in a slow circle around your clit. Locked as you were, he didn’t leave room for movement. You barely wiggled. Squirmed underneath his sinful tongue. With each new circle, he moved in closer. He tongued you closer to your clit and you whined and moaned and cried.

Your belly tightened once more. A cresting inferno built and built, radiating waves of heat throughout your body. 

Somehow, this too was more potent coming from him. Your body jerked out of your control, twitching every which way, as he created magic around your clit. He slurped up your juices. Slurped it loudly and greedily. He tongued it all down, getting his juicy lips wet with your essence.

You spoke in tongues, muttering and chirping. Tyrone’s tongue moved downwards, rimming your entrance and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh god. Oh fuck. Tyrone, Tyrone,” you moaned. Your hands flexed. You searched for Tyrone’s head, his neat cornrows were going to get messed up tonight. You palmed him anyway, pushing his head into your pussy and started to gyrate on his mouth. 

“Mhm, mhm,” he encouraged. “That’s my good girl.”

You came with a loud yell. You could barely breathe. The sounds and words were dragged out of you. A hidden instinct buried in your DNA to say something, to help ride this awe-inducing wave. A flood of pleasure moved through you. 

Tyrone held you down through it all. His biceps flexed with your movements back and forth. He still ate you out, flicking his tongue around your nub. 

“F-f-f-.” Fuck it, you couldn’t say it. 

You flopped onto the bed, spent. You moaned as you twitched and calmed down. Tyrone leaned up. You looked at him. His face was slick across his jaw. A spit chain drooped. He licked his big lips and moaned.

“Ready for this dick?” He asked.

You sniffled and nodded. “Please. Please, I'm so ready,” said.

“You don't’ need a break?” He asked.

“Hell naw. Please,” you said. 

He nodded and placed a wet kiss on your thigh. He cleaned off his face on his tank top. He stood up. He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a sitting position. You put your chin on his stomach and looked up at him. 

He sighed and rolled his neck. “What I tell you about lookin’ so cute?” He asked. 

“I can’t help being cute,” you said. 

“Lyin’ ass. Yes, you can,” he said.

You sucked your teeth. “How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Ion know. Burp or something,” he said.

You giggled and hugged him around his middle. You grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. 

“You really have no idea,” he whispered. You grinned. 

He stepped back and pulled off his shorts. His dick bobbed twice, standing at attention. He was definitely thick and long and perfect. Your shyness tried to budge back in. Your heartbeat sped up thinking of that getting inside of you. 

He twisted and leaned over. You admired his body as his muscles bunched. He was solid, stocky. A thick man with amazing thighs and ass. Cool air blew across your pussy and you bit your lip. Fuck. 

He grabbed a condom. Watching him was its own brand of sensual torture. His fingers moved deftly to open the package. He rolled on the condom, pulling the latex over the length of him. He pinched the top. 

He stalked closer, running his eyes over you. “Let me take this dress off,” he said.

You smiled and nodded. He helped you pull it off. Your bra went next. “You’re so damn sexy,” he said. 

He palmed your breasts, rubbing and pushing them together. He leaned down and brought your nipples into his mouth. He moved between your boobs, suckling and placing that warm mouth around the peaks. 

Your legs jerked up. You wrapped them around his waist. His shirt got trapped beneath your legs. He pulled it out and the shirt draped across his chest. His dick brushed against you and you cried out. He was so close to giving you what you needed. Your nails dug into his sides. He ignored you. He played with your nipples until you were a bumbling, squirming mess. 

“T-T-Tyrone,” your teeth chattered.

“Mhm, I know. Ready for me?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Sure?” He asked. He rubbed his dick through your arousal. You soaked him instantly. There was so much on you. The cool air hit across it on your skin. You knew exactly how much of a mess you made. It made you hornier. How did you go through life without this? Without this feeling?

Without this obsession running in your veins. This deep-seated need. This lustful shot of adrenaline threatening to burn your skin off. 

Tyrone’s hand wrapped around your hip. His other hand guided his dick towards your entrance. He pushed in and you gasped. He slipped in thanks to how wet you were. But fuck! He filled you completely. 

“Breathe,” he commanded. He stopped and moved his shirt out of the way. “You gotta breathe.”

You nodded. He helped you take deep breaths. “That’s right. Be a good girl for me. Good girls get dick,” he cooed. 

That should piss you off. But you wanted to be a good girl for him. You wanted to listen and get praised some more. 

Your breathing evened out. Tyrone leaned down and kissed you. As he kissed you, he pushed in. Your hand flew to his chest, pushing at him. Fuck. It kind of hurt, but it was a good hurt? You could tolerate him pushing in. You clenched around him and he hissed. 

He sank inch by inch into you. He cursed the whole time. “Fuck, feel too good. Feel too good,” he muttered. “Gripping the shit out of me.”

The praise made you moan and you clenched around him. A drop of his sweat fell onto your chest. Your own sweat slick skin pebbled in the cool air. 

Tyrone moved out and then pushed back in. The slide in would hurt briefly but then morph into pleasure as you felt him move inside of you. He was deep, stretching you out. Molding your pussy to the curve of his dick. 

He began to speed up. He flipped his shirt up and held it in his mouth. He moaned. “Can still smell you,” he said, though his voice was muffled. 

Both hands held onto your waist. He moaned as he sank deeper, you welcoming him better. “You okay?” He asked.

“Yuh,” you nodded. 

“Sure?” 

“Yu-uh,” you moaned. He was doing nothing more vigorous than moving back and forth, but he felt amazing. He filled you up. He hit that deep seat of emptiness inside of you. A place you hadn’t been able to get to on your own.

The feeling brought tears to your eyes. He twisted and brought you down on his dick a little faster. “Ohmygod,” you cried. He reached a spot that made you explode all over him. 

You cursed the heavens, you cursed hell. You cursed the world in between. You felt large. Humongous. You felt like you could grab the world with both hands. Power and pleasure suffused you. You moaned out loud, heedless of anyone who could hear. 

“Oh fuck, so tight,” Tyrone hips jerked. His fingers dug into your hips. The pressure made you moan. He jerked and thrusted one more time, going as far as he was able, and you felt him pulse inside of you.

You imagined him filling you up with his cum. You moaned as the thought made your pussy throb. Tyrone twitched and panted on top of you. He left you slowly, sliding out in a way that wouldn’t hurt you.

You missed him immediately. He wiped his sweat on his shirt and took off the condom. He tied it and threw it in a nearby trashcan. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You flopped onto the bed. Looked up at the popcorn ceiling. Were there words to describe how okay you were? How fantastic you felt? “So good,” you murmured. 

And you did feel really good. You expected to feel shame after having sex. You’d avoided it for so long, you started to feel like a freak for still being a virgin at your big age. But you didn’t. You were mostly sore. You were going to feel this in the morning and right now, you couldn’t care less. 

Tyrone left for a moment and you just focused on your breathing. On trying to recapture that euphoric feeling of that orgasm. Chasing after it like the wayward string of a balloon. 

He returned and placed a warm cloth against your pussy. You hissed at the unexpected sensation. He cooed at you while he cleaned you up. You smiled at him. “You didn’t have to,” you said.

“Yeah, I did. I was raised to clean up after myself,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He left once more, getting rid of the washcloth. He took off his shirt and hopped into bed with you, pulling you chest to chest. He rubbed your back and looked into your eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he said.

“You are,” you said. You bumped his nose. 

“How you really feelin’?” He asked.

“Honestly? I feel really good. Sore, but tired.” 

“Would you want to do it again?” He asked.

“Hell yes! Are you kidding? There’s so much I want to try,” you said.

Tyrone laughed, shaking his head. He pecked you on the lips. He moaned and then pressed in for longer, licking your bottom lip and rolling it between his teeth. 

“Mm, does that mean I can get back in that pretty pussy?” He asked.

You caressed his cheek. Running your thumb across his supple skin. “That’s exactly what that means.”

&&&

Psst, there's more! The Secret Tyrone Files

[ladylaviniya]

The Dog Days Are Over

MasterList || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: You were destined to be another Alpha in your family...so why does the test say you're an Omega?

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Omegaverse, A/B/O, age-gap, vaginal medical examination, inspired by the tragedy and abuse of the Trouble Teen Industries in America.

Pairing: Alpha!Henry Cavill X Omega!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Author Notes:

★Please if you have been affected by the trouble teen industry scroll down and click one of the links at the bottom of the fic. I cannot promise they will help but I can promise it's always an option to try. 💙 You may have seen this fic posted before.

★I have had to repost this story because my old account had been shadow banned.

Inspiring Song: The Dog Days By Florence & The Machine

☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤

April 15th 2023, 13:00pm, Trinity, California, America.

“Holy shit, holy shit, no, no, no!” You sobbed.

To the light of your bathroom you held a plastic stick test, it’s tip was soaked in your urine. Five other tests were on the floor around your feet, all positive; all Omega.

You couldn’t believe this, your whole life you had heard on repeat over and over “Alpha, Alpha, you are an Alpha.”

Her parents were both Alphas which meant you were supposed to be an Alpha!

The possibility of being an Omega for you had to be less than six percent. The last Omega in your family was your great-great-grandmother on your mother’s side or some distant shit like that. Your aunts and uncles were all Alphas.

Your family have always told you that “to be an Omega is to be a waste of time. A curse. A weak link of society.”

Omegas were submissive, obedient, they were at home looking after pups or in the hospital at the nursery or at daycares looking after loud, slobbering toddlers.

Your family were strongly built, they were made of soldiers, police officers, construction developers, political leaders and company CEO’s. Not pathetic, whiney housewives. Omegas were “too emotional” for those bigger fields.

Currently you were seeing your whole world and way of life swirling down the toilet bowl as you flushed it. You wanted to stay in college and study to be a high paid vet! Now you were risking being sent to a correctional centre or foreign country with extra distant family and forced to knit and paint until finally sold off to a partner or a birthing centre for science.

You sobbed harder before finally vomiting over the toilet bowl induced by the overwhelming stress.

Laying your cheek on the seat you glanced at your phones time and cringed. Your mother would be home any minute! Picking up each test, you considered snapping them in half and clogging the toilet up with them, but what was the point? When scent was in the picture evolution was the final bitch...

Looking at the many smiley faces in your hands you felt like they were mocking you, laughing at your further misery. Normally you would have gotten angry, but now…instead you were consumed by hopelessness and sadness.

You cried and cradled the pee tests to your chest. Stumbling out of the bathroom you floated to your side table and laid the tests down. You slumped and crawled into your bed, beneath your covers, you hugged the duvets and sniffled.

“W-worst day ever,” you whimpered and whined over and over, muffled by the softness of your pillows.

☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤

April 15th 2023, 16:30pm, Trinity, California, America.

“Y/N! Come down here young lady!” Your mother called from the kitchen.

Your eyes flashed open, You were wrapped in a tumble of your sheets and blankets. Your mother must’ve just come just gotten home, she was always so busy with her corporate work. You hadn’t seen your dad in two weeks since his overtime in the city bank.

Who were you to complain? It paid for everything you had ever known...You just wished some money could’ve bought times you missed or never experienced with your family...

You could hear her call again, firmer this time around.

You groaned and dragged yourself up from your bed and down the stairs. Your stomach growled, you were starved...hungry. You looked at your phone again and squinted at the time...four hour long nap.

You wondered what your mother was planning to cook or if she was just going to order another pizza, her cooking sucked if you were being honest...

Stepping into the kitchen your mother was kicking off her leather shoes and ripping her suit blazer over the counter. She looked angry, god why was she so pissed now? What had you done this time?

“What did I say about boys?” She snapped over her shoulder. She slammed the medical cabinet shut and frantically popped a suppressant and painkiller. She swallowed them dry and grunted, clenching a fist and held up an accusing finger at you.

Sure she had every right to be grumpy. It was your job to complete chores while you studied at home. Laundry hadn’t been folded and dishes hadn’t been put away from the dish washer.

But to be mad about boys? Now that, you didn’t understand the sudden burst of tone.

You felt your body loosen and turn icy, your skin covered in goosebumps.

Your mother was furiously popping a second pill before her when you shivered, “D-don’t bring boys over.”

She sneered, her canines flashing; her eyes identical to yours, glared you down.

Stepping around you to the pantry cupboards, she whipped out an air freshener and dosed the room in a scent of lavender…only to be clouded by hormonal pheromones again...the lavender was defenceless against the smell.

You felt the air grow painfully heavy as your mother hissed and sprayed the can out, before furiously slamming onto the counter and slamming the cupboards shut.

“Then why the fuck do I smell an omega?!” her sharp nail pointed to the ceiling and she began yelling as though there was someone upstairs she was calling to, “You tell that bloody boy to get out before I haul his goddamn omega ass out onto the fucking sidewalk!”

Omega…She thinks I brought an omega over…She smells…me…omega…I’m an omega…no…no…

“M-mum…I don’t have a b-boy over,” You stepped from side to side nervously and wrung your hands.

Your mother pinched the bridge her of nose and sighed, “Well Y/N…I didn’t know you were into girls,” gently reaching out, she pulled back your silk cap, releasing your protected hair, “…but she needs to leave.”

 Your mother’s fingers touched your cheek, she flinched at the heat in your face, you were boiling. It was then that colour started to fade from her face.

“Mom, please-” Before you could explain that you were the cause of the flooding scent, she marched her way up stairs and slammed open your bedroom door where a giant wave of humid Omega scent flew out.

No…no! Mom! Stop! No!

Your voice was silent, your lips shut in a worried grimace.

As you ran up the stairs after her, you could hear your mother’s high pitched scream.

☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤

April 15th 2023, 17:45pm, Trinity, California, America.

The hospital was…cold…the air-conditioning peltsd down on your neck, it made you want to snuggle deeper into your sweater, it might’ve been spring and warming up but you felt so hot and cold and you knew the soft material is what you needed.

Your mother was trembling just as hard as you were. Her knee was bouncing hard and she.keot wiping her mouth and checking her phone. Your father wasnt responding to any of her texts or calls.... you couldn’t tell if your mother was experiencing fear, rage even …disappointment. She hadn’t let you touch her ever since she found all the positive Omega tests. When you tried to hold her hand, she growled at you from the back of her throat.

It hurt your feelings badly.

You craved touch, you needed support, you needed your mum, you needed affection.

The waiting room was almost empty, the only other people was an Omega man with his pup in a sling while his Alpha wife continued to protectively touch their baby’s forehead. You stared at the baby though… pups…where are my pups?...

“Y/N Y/L/N?” an English accent cut through the train of thought on the baby. In the doorway to the hall, a tall doctor was looking between you and the couple. When you stood up, with your mother hot on your tail, he smiled and led your both to his office.

Awkwardly you sat down onto a waiting chair next to the doctors desk. Taking a deep breath you could smell the scent of Alpha and hand sanitiser. The overwhelming senses made you feel slightly nauseas.

Your mother sat beside you with an annoyed sigh, she lifted her hand out to the doctor to shake it, “Y/M/N, Mrs Y/L/n, Y/N's mother.”

The doctor gave a side glance at her reaction and then looked at you with a soft smile.

He strained in his professional British tone, “Hello Mrs Y/L/N, I’m Doctor Cavill.”

After the two Alphas acquainted themselves he finally sat in his wheeley chair and regarded you.

“What can I help you with today Miss Y/L/N?” he smiled.

You noticed how he looked so clean, and was built like a brickhouse, he smelt like an Alpha. The rooms light glinted on his medical wrist band proclaiming him as his blood type and confirming his own scent.

Behind his spectacles, his eyes were kind, made of two colours, blue and his left eye had a tip of brown…it was merely something you saw...his smile was warm like a freshly baked cookie. Oh god…you was aroused.

You didn’t realise your weren’t answering his question when he stared at you. Your mother finally answered.

“She smells like an Omega.”

Such a dirty word...Omega...you cringed.

....goddess...please don’t let me be a homely sulk.

The Doctor then turned his attention away and pursed his lips and lifted a single brow at your mother, “Is something wrong with that?”

The older woman scoffed and rose her voice to a humiliating state. Your heart was beating fast, your cheeks were heating up and you tried sinking further into the seat. Your nose dug into the woollen shoulder of your sweater. What you would give to be allowed to hide away from this situation.

“Her father and I are both pure blooded Alphas! How can this happen!? The last omega we had was my great-grandmother and that’s it!”

Doctor Cavill sighed calmly as he took off his glasses and placed them on his desk. He folded his arms and stood from his desk, “I see, well then Mrs Y/L/N, please step outside to the waiting room. I will need to conduct a blood and vaginal test.”

Your mother obviously huffed and grumbled about ‘how unprofessional’ and ‘surely I can stay’.

Even now you wanted her to leave with her hostile attitude. Luckily there was no way a female Alpha would argue with a male Alpha. When the door shut though it felt strange. All the heavy tension in the room lifted off of your chest. You felt instantly calmer and made it easier to breathe.

The doctor sat back into his desk chair and crossed a leg over another casually.

“So…” he smiled, “How do you feel Miss Y/L/N?”

You gulped slightly and shakily answered, “Everything is smelling sweeter than normal,” you hated the scent of hand sanitiser but now it was something you wanted to shove up your nose.

If it blocked out every other scent from the dust on the walls to the chocolate in the vending machine outside to the scent of the alpha right in front of you…You would drink it all down.

“No,” he chuckled, pushing back from his desk and started rummaging through his desk for medical items, “I mean, are you okay? Are you stressed or scared, or are you alright? I can always get a cup of water for you. But we need to take your blood first.”

You shook your head and tucked your neck deeper down into your sweater. Your fingers felt the scratchiness of the wool. You nodded and slipped the material off over your head and folded it neatly onto the chair your mother sat.

“I’m terrified,” you confessed, your voice choked up, “I don’t want to be an Omega, I hope this is just a stupid puberty flux…maybe it’s a flip!”

It wasn’t uncommon for this situation to happen. Hormones can sometimes Flip and shows signs for the two other blood types, sometimes blood has become contaminated due to high iron levels or too much sugar intake. Diabetes were always Flipping the board. There were a million things that could cause a Flip in the hormonal pool.

“There’s nothing wrong with being an Omega you know,” the doctor commented sternly, holding up a needle, changing the needle point while you choked.

You felt unusually insulted, “Everything is wrong with being an Omega, I won’t get the job I want and I won’t be allowed to come to parties with my friends, I’ll be stuck home with a…a…a fucking baby. Or sent to a breeding farm! I heard about the science experiments conducted on pregnant Omegas in the camps.”

The doctor turn abruptly at yoj and narrowed his eyes at you, he appeared offended. What does he need to be offended about, he’s an Alpha!

But his frown became a smirk, “You’re aware they are safetly committed with the Omegas consent?”

 He patted the medical chair in the centre of the room, “But whatever case, what do you want to do Career wise?” he asked while you crawled up atop of the tall chair and let him pull up your sleeve and wipe the alcohol on your arm.

“I want to be a vet,” you winced as the needle broke through your skin. You looked away from the bubbling blood being sucked up through the tube.

As he pulled away and capped the needle tip he asked, “Ever thought about midwifery?”

“I don’t like babies,” you snorted ignoring how desperately you were yearning to have one of your own ten minutes ago, “They’re so uncomfortable to be around. And I don’t want to listen to a screaming woman in labour.”

You noticed the movement in his shoulders as they slumped, he nodded and you felt like you were failing an unspoken test. You felt a rising anxiety, you growled to yourself, it’s just a hormonal Flip.

“Fair enough,” Doctor Cavill said off handily, he sealed up your blood tube in a plastic bag and started to write your details. The pen cap lazily hung from his lips. He looked like he smoked…he didn’t smell like it though, maybe it was the way he stood. His scent was so easy to smell and feel…you yearned to know if he could smell you. And to your tragic uncontrol, your underwear were rubbing rough against your sensitive areas, the fumes dragged out this needing slick that was sickening.

Being omega is disgusting, this is what they do all the time? Gross! GET ME SOME ALPHA HORMONES NOW.

You knew this had to be wrong, all the time you had been surrounded by alphas and you had been strong and confident like an alpha, maybe a little strategic like a beta. You were sure though you were alpha rather than beta and there was no possible way for you to present as a dormant omega for this long!

Normally Omegas presented at fucking fourteen to sixteen not your age!!

“How old are you Miss Y/L/N?”

“I’m eighteen,” You informed him of your birthday and he nodded, writing it down in the corner of the bag.

You were officially pissed off, crossing your arms you felt your eyes watering. “I want to be an Alpha or even a Beta,” You whimpered, “I can’t be an Omega, no way.”

The whimper…Shit! Stop whimpering you baby! Stop proving this point! Could you be anymore Omega!?

The doctor placed the test bag on his desk before gifting yoh a soft tissue “Have you taken a home determine test?” his hands settled onto his knees as he crouched down before you.

You broke out into a light sob and nodded, “ugh huh, I took six different ones…all positive for Omega.”

The doctor smiled sadly and handed you the box of tissues he had on his desk. A nurse came knocking barely after you had started. It made you feel puny when you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. You felt helpless, why couldn’t they just get you some alpha hormones already?

“Please take this to the test room,” he asked the nurse, handling a plastic bag with your needle inside.

Doctor Cavill let you cry as long as you wanted and reminded you that it wasn’t a hundred percent if you were an Omega yet.

The doctor rubbed your back and cleared his throat. From a draw below your feet he pulled out a green plastic cape, “Miss Y/L/N would you like to step into the bathroom there and remove your bottoms? Put the gown on?”

Time to get the vaginal confirmation that you were tighter than a needle hole. You pushed his hand away. God he sounded patronising, even if he was being merely polite about the events unfolding you took it as a personal attack, an underlying “You’re a weak omega, deal with it!”

No! I’m not an Omega!

Things were escalating to quickly; you barely realised the conclusions you were leaping to and how dramatic you were pushing with these emotions. You sniffed hard and snapped at him, “Can’t I just take my pants off now?”

Doctor Cavill shifted back uncomfortably, he grit his teeth and scrunched up his eyes, “I merely am offering a more comfortable option,” he clapped his hands, “But you may if you wish, have you ever attended a gynaecologist for a papsmear?” he asked as he got his tools ready from another draw.

You leaped off the chair and slammed yout foot down.

“Duh!” You yelled, kicking your shoes off, and shoving your pants down, You were furious. Moodswings was a popular symptom of Flips.

“I just want to get this over with. Mum is so pissed off. Can’t wait for some fucking A-pills,” you grumbled, leaning back into the chair and spread your legs apart…normally yoh did this with a female doctor but right now you were too impatient to request a woman and you needed to know how fucked up your Flip was and how long would you be experiencing it and how powerful would the drugs be.

You couldn’t even stand the look your mother gave you when she held up the positive determine tests with horror.

The doctor cleared his throat again, snapping white gloves onto his hand and over his wrist band. He squirted a tube of lube over his hands and over the speculum, lining it up to your vagina and pushed it inside slowly, “Miss Y/L/N, please relax for me.”

You huffed to yourself. I am fucking relaxed! -No you’re not, you’re a bad omega, obey him!

The metal was cold inside of you but you were looking forward to the results: Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, I am Alpha.

He took a flashlight and shone the light down your passage, looking down at your inner muscles, “How often do you practise sexual intercourse Miss Y/L/N?” looking up at you from your fuzzy pussy.

Shit, the scent was strong, it was so sweet like maple syrup and honey but sweeter…lick me. Oh fuck please alpha please please.

You shook your head and blushed, “N-never, I’ve only masturbated. So…last papsmear I only came in to make sure I didnt have a yeast infection.”

You swallowed hard, your head felt hot and you swore yoj could feel cold sweat dripping down, “Am I an Alpha or Beta?”

The doctor dipped two rubber fingers inside of you, patting down and around inside You. And suddenly his eyes widened, he gently slipped out his fingers and the cold speculum out. On his fingers was blood…oh shit…

“You may sit up and dress Miss Y/L/N, “The doctor set his tools and gloves into a silver tray. You trembled…what were you? A or B?

He was washing his hands in the sink right beside your head as you bit your lips and tugged up your undies and jeans back up. The room was so quiet, the only noise was the sinks running water and the air conditioner. You shivered and sniffled.

Doctor Cavill’s shoulders were low, he turned his head and faced you. Twisting his fingers together he shook his head, “Miss Y/L/N,” he started with a long exhaled breath, “You’re days away from your first Estrus.”

The earth dropped and the moon broke and the stars were dimmed…“What do you mean Estrus!?” yoj questioned. Tears spurted from your eyes again. Gagged by nature.

No fucking way. Yes way.

“‘Heat’, an Omega will go into Estrus or commonly known as Heat while an Alpha will go into Oestrus commonly known as a ‘Rut’,” Doctor Cavill tried explain only for the blood to boil out of you and make you scream at him.

“I know what it is! I must be going into Oestrus, n-not an estrus, I can’t be an Omega, doctor! Ch-Check again!”

Sweat trailed from your face down your neck, your heart was punching your insides, seeking an escape through your ribcage.

When you tried undoing your pants again, The doctor tore your hands away and took your wrists up, he was breathing harshly through his nose, “Miss Y/L/N I’m going to have to ask you to sit down and take a deep breath. Listen to me.”

You shook your head over and over, you couldn’t believe it! You were beginning to sob hard, choking on tears.

You wailed, “No, no, no, please doctor, please!”

Out of the depth of the doctor’s chest came a stern growl, “Sit. Down. Now. Or I will have to restrain and sedate you.”

Your body was out of control, you didn’t want to sit but your arse met the chair cushion anyway.

Good omega.

The doctor huffed, shaking his head with disappointment, your head flinched down, cowering and humiliated. You felt apologetic, but this wasn’t the real you!!

“Good girl,” he praised, he handed you a paper cup filled with water from the sink, “Now drink.”

The water was gulped down in a heartbeat, yoh needed the refreshment even if you didn’t want it, your doctor nodded, “That’s it.”

As you sipped on some more water the nurse from earlier stepped inside and handed the doctor a sheet of paper. The blood results… You shook on the spot, your red face panicking.

“Pl-please,” you choked on the water slightly, clearing your sore throat, you sniffled, “What does it say?”

There was still a chance, maybe he was wrong; maybe this was just a intense Oestrus that was causing you to bleed. Maybe it was so strong your vaginal walls were stabbing themselves, seeking out an omega cock to claim.

Cavill looked from you to the parchment a few times, he shook his head. He held out the medical sheet to you and pointed to a positive cross.

The world went silent even as he was talking to you…it was a distant noise. Static.

“Miss Y/L/N, you are as I had diagnosed, Omega positive,” he scratched his neck gland gently, “You are days away from your first Estrus. I will give you a choice to either battle through it with medical aids or medical suppressants.”

You dropped the paper and the cup, the shock was as cold as ice. You felt weak, your arms numb, your eyes rolled back and your mouth lulled open. Your life was completely over.

You were Omega...and you fainted.

☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤

April 16th 2023, 1:25am, Trinity, California, America.

When you woke up, you were delirious. The world wouldn’t stop twisting and turning. Above you was a bright light, you cringed away and whimpered. There was a mean bite at your wrist.

You felt cold, washed out. Your body was laid out and angled up a slight. Your cheek rubbed into the soft hospital pillow. You smelt blood, so much metallic salt in the air. And your stomach was viciously growling. You peered down and noticed what was pinching your wrist. Handcuffs. You were handcuffed to the railing of the hospital bed!

Clearing your eyes, you noted how you were surrounded by three blue curtains. One was quick to open, making you jump.

The nurse from earlier smiled at you eagerly, her Beta tag was super shiny in the light, forcing you to blink rapidly, “Oh look, you’re awake. Can you please tell me your full name sweetheart?”

When you sat up you moaned out your entire name.

Before you could ask about the handcuffs being removed, the nurse smiled and held up a torch.

“Wonderful, now I am gonna need to shine a little light in your eye, can you please look into the corner of the ceiling dear?”

Doing as you were told, it was quick and over as soon as it had begun. The nurse was pleased, “Fabulous, right, I’ll be right back, Doctor Cavill needs to have a chat with you.”

“B-but my hand…”

Ignoring you, the nurse left.

Something was clearly off. Why did they handcuff you!? You started to tug at the chain, feeling anxiety seep deep and activate a sense of fight or flight. The curtains reopened. And in stepped the doctor.

He grinned and nodded his head to you, “Hello there Y/N, how are we?”

You weren’t amused in the slightest, quick with retort, “Chained to a bed rail.”

He smiled and whipped out a key, uncuffing you from the bed. You cradled your wrist rubbing the ring indent in your skin, murmuring ‘thankyou’.

Your stomach loudly purred, extinguishing the level of discomfort you wanted to send the doctor. “…and hungry.”

“I’ll tell the nurse to get you some jello,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands. Just as he was to leave, you launched yourself forward and caught his medical coat, “Wh-where’s my mom?”

He softly assured you, “She is just sitting in my room, we were discussing options after I showed her and your father your blood results.” Oh…dad…oh jesus…he finally was here.

You suspected your father to have been incredibly furious. How much furniture did he break?

“You…” you paused, “options…” You gulped and smiled at the doctor, “….I want suppressants...as soon as possible.” They would surely fix everything! You could have some and go have a coffee with your friends tomorrow.

“Not those kind of options…” He sighed and perched himself near your feet at the foot of the bed.

That was a weird answer…what does he mean? Could they change my DNA? Could they turn me into an Alpha.

You had heard of some new sciences like that coming in. The ability to change your DNA genome...

“What other types are there?” you laughed hesitantly.

When he didn’t answer you, It was like the air grew icy and heavy…there’s a reason they kept you chained like a bitch.

There was only one other option....a correctional institution. You felt sick, your hungry belly was replaced with nausea. Your nose sniffled.

“I want to see my mom,” you gulped and moved to slip out of the bed. The medical gown was scratchy against your skin, you started to feel worse, your fingers scrunched up and unravelled. Your body felt dizzy when you stood up to quickly. The doctor attempted to block your way when you peeled back the curtain to many empty beds and a single door with a sign above it...

 “Farewell room.”

No, no, fuck, no! Where’s mom and dad!

You ran at the door and shook at the handle, but it was locked. You couldn’t breathe, you were locked in with the doctor. You couldn’t escape. The floor cleaner and bright lights were clouding your senses, blinding you and burning your nostrils.

You ripped a heavy breath, not thinking it would be so painful after holding it in too long.

I won’t cry, no, no crying!

“Y/N I’m going to need you to calm down,” the doctor informed you setting his hands over your shoulders, you were fast to slap them away. You lowly growled at him and bared your teeth ferally.

Don’t you fucking touch me!

When it clicked at the severe reaction you had made especially to an alpha, you felt instant regret and guilt, you choked on more tear and buried your head into the doctors chest. His heart was beating fast too, but not like your rabbit pounding blood.

“N-no,” she cried, “I want my mommy!”

You felt the doctor soothingly rub his hand over your head and down your back. He hushed you until you were just a whimpering woman.

The door unlocked, and finally…“Y/N…” your mother spoke out to you.

You snapped back around and saw her and your father beside the door. Your father barely came inside, his lips curled in, disappointed, disgusted and silent.

A desperate and hopeful smile came to your face, your hands reached out, “Mom!”

But the older woman just stood back from you...she was keeping distance purposely. The closer you reached and sought her, the more she distanced herself and stood closer to the door.

“M-mom? H-hug me…” you begged, “pl-please mom?”

She sighed and looked away from you, refusing to look you in the eye. Shame.

“Doctor Cavill, your father and I believe it is best if you…go away for sometime,” she clutched her own arms, “…where people can help you.”

You did not see it that way at all, and you just knew she was lying out of her arse. She was getting rid of you...betraying you...disowning you....

“I don’t need to be helped,” you sniffled and smiled, “I just-just need some suppressants.”

“Y/N,” she seethed through her gritted teeth, “Go with the nice nurses.”

“M-mommy, please,” you begged pathetically and got to your knees on the cold tiled floor, “Please don’t do this!”

“STOP!” your mother screamed, “You are making a scene!” she rolled her eyes and turned around to leave, “You will go to ‘Saint Selene’s School For Adolescent Omega.’ We may see you during the summer.” And slammed the door closed.

You flinched at the cracking bang that echoed your ears.

You ran to the door and found it locked, you pounded the window with your fists and screamed out, “D-don’t leave me, please don’t leave me Dad!…M-Mummy!” your parents did not look back as they walked away, abandoning their only child.

Their backs and bodies continued to get smaller and smaller the further they walked. The sight broke your heart and soul. The concept of betrayal could not be clearer. Your breath clouded the glass, your tears slid down and tapped onto the floor, onto your naked feet.

Doctor Cavill’s hand reached out and wrapped around your bicep, trying to tug you back from the door.

“Come on,” he said.

 You shouted, “Let go of me!”

When he did not, you snarled and noticed a lonely pen on the end of a bed frame with a clip board. You grabbed it and jabbed his forearm. The blue ink spattered across his skin while he yelled in pain.

“Get the fuck off of me!” you squealed again and held up the pen with both hands, take a few steps back from the now pissed off Doctor. The sound of the door opening again had your heart rushing.

Mom!?

To your massive disappointment, it was the nurse who was shocked by the scene unfolded. Now you were totally surrounded.

“Put the weapon down!” the beta demanded, holding up her own hands in defence, “Now.”

“Calm,” was the word you heard the doctor say beside your ear, before pressing your back into him, grasping your jaw and finally feeling an incredibly long sting in your neck followed by the unusual flow of liquidised drugs into your body, “calm.”

You were scared, unsure of what was going into your body, your chest thundered with your beating heart until it was like you blinked and everything relaxed. Your body felt instant exhaustion and peace...you snapped back and fell back against his chest.

“Calm...” he whispered, “Calm...”

The last thing you heard...

Calm...

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[shadowdaddies]

Ouu, wb Amren x a reader who speaks a different language and very little Prythian(idk, whatever they speak) and struggles trying to get across what she wants from Amren(in bed) but eventually they work it out and it's all smutty 🤭😏

I love your mind omg

Foreign Tongues

Amren x f!Reader

warnings: laborious faerie political ramblings above the cut, smut below the cut, breath play, slight blood play? (it is Amren, after all), tribbing, oral f!receiving

The moon had risen high in the night sky by the time Rhysand decided to call the meeting to an end. Your eyesight was blurred, vision struggling to stay focused on the heavy texts you’d pored over for the better part of the day. 

You’d been in the Night Court for several days now, working officially on behalf of Vallahan to discuss trade relations, but your king and queen did not know of the spy in their midst. 

When Morrigan had come to Vallahan to seek aid in the war against Hybern, you’d seen both the cruelty of your people towards humans, and your own opportunity to give Prythian the advantage to leverage an agreement that banned slavery from your lands.

The issue laid in your lack of time - you were only given four days in Prythian to devise a plan with the right amount of leverage to achieve both countries’ goals - and the language barrier. Vallahan had spent so long secluded from negotiations with the other territories that the dialect had changed greatly, and you knew little of Prythian’s language as well.

Mor spoke enough of each tongue to work as translator, allowing you to work with her and Rhysand - along with Rhys’s second in command, Amren - in your research and deliberations. 

From the moment Amren had introduced herself, steely silver gaze meeting yours with an unwavering confidence, you desired her. Her low, smooth voice as foreign words rolled off her tongue and the intelligence with which she quickly picked up on your language was as arousing as the glances she would flash in your direction when she thought you weren’t looking, the slight flush of her skin when you would notice.

It was as Rhys nodded to you in farewell, Mor standing to follow him toward the door that you caught one of those looks - but this time, Amren didn’t look away. Instead, her eyes seemed to glow like molten silver, bottom lip tugging between her teeth as her scent of black cherry and merlot grew darker.

It was your skin that grew flush this time, eyes darkening at the silent understanding that passed between the two of you. Looking over your shoulder, you realized that Rhys and Mor had already left, and the air grew thick with tension as Amren stood from her seat across the table, hands spreading on the wooden surface as she leaned closer.

As though a magnetic force were drawing you to her, you matched her movement, mere inches separating your mingled breaths. A delicate finger tucked underneath your chin, dragging slowly up to run over your lower lip as her brow arched in question. 

“Yes?” she asked in your language, eyes searching eagerly for permission, the leash on her restraint growing taut. 

“Yes.”

No sooner had your broken attempt at her language left your lips than she swallowed the sound with her mouth, hand moving to your jaw in a firm grip as she slipped her tongue through your lips. 

A lewd moan escaped you as she caressed the roof of your mouth, your lips sucking on her tongue in response as you pulled away to see her wild expression. “Here,” she murmured, pointing to her side of the table before urging you to crawl over the furniture towards her.

Perching on the edge of the table, your hands found purchase in her silky black hair, legs winding around her trim waist to pull her as close as possible. Soft hands slid up your thighs, squeezing the flesh of your ass as Amren’s head dipped to your neck.

A harsh bite pierced the flesh there, her tongue flicking out against the quickly-healing wound as she sucked hard enough to mark you as her own. Teeth and tongue taunted your skin in a symphony of pain and pleasure as she worked her way further down your body.

Fingers softly trailed from your ass, tracing light patterns up your body to draw sharp nails down your sternum, around your breasts to rest at the top of your pants. Lips left your skin when you tugged on Amren’s hair, her gaze lifting to yours in question once more as she snapped the waistband of the fabric.

You couldn’t have found words of any language in that moment, breath catching in your lungs as your need grew into a frenzy. You granted her a frantic nod, your own hands fumbling with the fabric of her top as you hastily undressed each other.

Eyes roved hungrily over your body for a brief moment before you wrapped your legs around her waist once more, one of your legs dropping to the ground so you could lean against the table’s edge. 

Amren’s lips found yours once more, the kiss tantalizingly slow as your hand dipped to her thigh, hoisting it over your hip to pull her body fully against yours. A high-pitched whine left her lips as you wound your hips against her own, the crack in her smooth facade making you smile.

Her clit rubbed against your own, nails raking down your back while you twisted and thrust against her. You were coated in each others’ slick, sticky warmth making a mess over your bundle of nerves as you chased your high. 

Amren’s small hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently as your eyes rolled back at the pleasure. The coil in your stomach began to tighten, legs shaking in attempt to hold yourself upright. 

Just as you felt the pleasure begin to crest, Amren pulled back, hand keeping you in place against the table as her fingers dipped into your folds. Lifting the digits against her lips, pink tongue flicked out, a wicked smirk spreading across her face at your low moan.

She never released her hold that gently pinned you to the wood as she dipped her hand between her own thighs, collecting the slick there before pressing those same fingers to your lips.

You accepted them eagerly, tongue flicking to collect your shared juices, cheeks hollowed as you aimed to suck every last drop. Amren’s chest heaved, lidded eyes shining down at you with approval.

You released her from your mouth with a pop, grin turning wild when she released your bruised neck in favor of tapping the table. 

“Here,” she directed in your language, hand sweeping flatly to indicate for you to lay down on the hard surface. Quickly sliding up onto the furniture, you laid on your back, craning your neck to see her climbing onto the table as well. 

You practically writhed under her, pussy dripping to the surface beneath you as she straddled your face, round ass perched perfectly above your mouth.

Wasting no time, Amren’s hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling them apart as her tongue licked a broad stripe against your clit. Back arching against the wood, your parted lips were soon smothered by her warmth, hole perched atop your nose as her clit nestled between your lips.

You sucked the bud on instinct, hips rolling against her mouth as the two of you pleasured each other. Fingers parted your folds, spit landing on your clit before being spread by those soft hands. 

“Amren,” you moaned, the foreign name pleasant on your tongue when her fingers dipped inside of you, stretching and curling, bringing you to your high incredibly quickly.

Spurred on by her movements, your own tongue flicked and sucked her bud, moving to thrust inside of her as you lapped at her flavor. 

“I- now,” Amren stuttered, the only words she could manage as her legs shook. 

Your name spilling from her mouth as she reached her high sent you spiraling into your own, heart pounding at the intense ecstasy rolling through your body in waves.

Sweaty limbs tangled, Amren twisting around just enough to be face-to-face with you while you caught your breaths. Thumb sweeping softly across your cheek, Amren pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, her own expression shifting into a rare, bright smile.

Biting your lip, you found it impossible to tear your gaze from her, instead finding any excuse for small touches, admiring the planes and curves of her bare body beside yours.

“And now?”

You knew what Amren was truly asking with that question - but you were set to return home tomorrow, back to a land where you were now a traitor. Nothing was sure anymore, no future could be predicted. 

All you knew was what you wanted next, so with a sheepish grin, you interlaced your fingers with hers and pulled her palm to your lips. “Now, your bed?”

Loud laughter rang out, Amren shaking her head with amusement as she muttered something in her language that you couldn’t understand. Collecting your clothes, she reached out her hand to you in invitation. “My bed,” she nodded.

[splatooshy]

tvdu headcanons

yes these are completely correct, no i do not take criticism. either compliment me and my clever thoughts or walk away.

damon

- pretends his initials stand for ‘damon fucking salvatore.’

- Humanity isn’t something Damon lacks. He ignores it sometimes, but he did that when he was human too

- shy. so PAINFULLY shy. that didn’t change until post 70s.

- fav colour is jade green.

- born in italy, then lily had multiple miscarriages over 5 years and giuseppe decided they would move to america for better prospects, and stefan was born in mf.

- giuseppe despised anything ‘foreign’, and would lock damon in the cellar when he slipped up. never mind that damon didn’t really know any english.

- named his first horse (a shetland pony) sir handsome. loved his horses. hated people, loved animals.

- bibliophile. brains over brawn.

- gets banned from new orleans every few decades. marcel HATES him. also was in nola in 1914, freya and kol both took pity on him/ befriended damon after he managed to piss off the witches AND marcel in one day.

- always had the most inconvenient crushes as a human. the first was the daughter of some middle class storekeeper when he was eight. the second was emily bennett (his secret bff) and the third was a dude with a horse when he was a teenager. stablehand/riding instructor/ young gent passing through, named sebastian. giuseppe caught the boys fooling around one day and promptly shot sebastian in the head, before beating damon within an inch of his life (WOAH I WROTE THIS SO CASUALLY). damon never fully recovered.

- finds grimoires to bring to his favourite witch at the time. often the spells are super wacky and mostly useless.

- chatty and clingy drunk.

- after augustines, physically cant sleep alone, and half the time wakes up only to realise he’s killed his bedpartner (strangling, decap., suffocation etc.)

- in the 30s, he became a professional dancer.

stefan

- fav colour is an icy, glacial blue.

- nobody knows what his first language is. His first few words were either Italian or French, but it’s not certain which one. of course, giuseppe locked damon in the cellar for that.

- first horse was sir handsome, a hand-me-down from damon. loved both people and animals, but most of all loved when damon was introducing him to the animals.

- actually the cutest little child ever. big green eyes and floppy blonde-ish hair. looked like a five-year-old until he was 13? 14? and then suddenly shot up really quick.

- bull in a china shop. brawn over brains.

- the ‘ripper’ was created by lexi. she isolated and abused stefan, manipulating him into whatever she wanted.

- chronic migraine sufferer.

- as a human, he physically could not eat when nervous, which just so happened to be 80% of the time.

- rarely gets drunk but is a very outgoing and slutty drunk.

- lizard brain blood lusty ripper stefan only speaks italian.

- model aeroplane / train / car kind of guy.

- tumbled down into a well twice as a human.

- built the engine for the first automobile, passed it onto henry ford.

enzo

- likes the challenge of getting his way without resorting to compulsion (which is cheating.)

- has the stickiest fingers. he didn’t become a little street urchin in london without picking up some skills.

- turned by jack the ripper in 1888. approached him mid-murder.

- physically incapable of hating damon. and believe me, he’s tried.

- after augustines, physically cant sleep alone, and half the time wakes up only to realise he’s killed his bedpartner (strangling, decap., suffocation etc.)

klaus

- went to college a few times to study art. ended up stabbing the teacher [with a paintbrush] because they critiqued his work.

- was tsar nicholas 2 as a joke, purposely ended the dynasty.

elijah

- slipped ecstasy into klaus’ drink in the 80s just to see what would happen.

rebekah

- had a habit of accidentally wandering as a kid.

- clairvoyant / clairsentient.

- very partial to throwing knives.

kol

- bffs with charles 2, gets knighted (inspired by that episode of parks and rec where ben and andy meet the rich british guy)

- refers to stefan as klaus’ estranged paramour

- mixes vervain and wolfsbane into joints and such to get klaus to chill the fuck out. and mixing vervain into other drugs and stuff so that they’d affect him - damon joins the operation in 1914.

- was jack the ripper in 1888, saw a man drowning in his own blood in an alleyway, just watching as kol disemboweled a prostitute, before approaching him like ‘please sir, can you spare any change?’ and kol was delighted.

- damon pissed off marcel in 1914 and kol decided at that moment they were best friends.

- BIG fan of the ottoman empire. it only collapsed because kol was daggered.

- has grimoires full of odd spells.

alaric

- owns vervain coated knuckle dusters

- basically begs damon to talk history with him.

elena

- pre-accident: queen bee and she knew it. at her core, she is self-centred and used to getting her way. this only changes with her parents’ accident, but eventually elena reverts back into her old self.

- refers to katherine as her identical grandmother

[ - bitchy stares. not even an rbf, her face is just super expressive and you can tell when she’s judging you ]

caroline

- was second to elena all her life, and elena knew how to fuel that envy of caroline’s. but then elena’s parents died and caroline was finally #1, except stefan shows up and it’s back to the elena show again.

[ - well-meaning but tone deaf ]

both elena and caroline are just those bitchy popular girls.

[ bonnie ]

[ i have so many for her but a lot are completely against canon so here’s the ones that could be ]

[ - best cheerleader on the squad // the older girls adopted her as their flyer from day 1 ]

[ - because she’s tiny, yanno? ]

[ - known as the ‘i dunno her but she seems nice’ one, the ‘quiet, seems really sweet but i think she hates me’ one and ‘elena’s minion’ ]

[ - but she’s actually more popular overall ‘cause she does all the volunteering / xtra curricular stuff with caroline and she’s not in your face about it ]

[ - has very weirdly specific daily rituals as to what she eats and when on which day (waffle wednesday), what pyjamas she wears, how her pillows are arranged, etc. ]

[ - she didn’t even notice she did all of that until she was at a sleepover and the other kid’s mum made a different breakfast to what she would usually have on that day and bonnie was like ‘hmm. i seem to be uncomfortable with this. why is that?’ but sucked it up and ate her breakfast without saying anything ]

[reasonsforhope]

"Sunlight dapples the once-denuded forest floor as saplings spread their branches and leaves overhead, slowly forming a lush canopy.

Beside each young tree, a sign notes its species. Lupuna, says one, the colloquial Peruvian term, and below that its scientific name, Ceiba pentandra — in other words, a kapok tree, known for its cotton-like fibers. Huito, says another sign, or Geinpa americana, which produces edible gray berries.

Each sapling is distinct, a reflection of the Amazon's stunning biodiversity, with so many different species that you might go acres without finding a repeat.

Yet this young forest did not spring up naturally. It has been carefully recreated by humans in an area that was, until just three years ago, a heavily contaminated moonscape.

This land was stripped of its dense vegetation by miners scouring the subsoil for tiny specks of gold, using mercury to separate the gold from the sediment. Many thought that a healthy forest would never thrive in impoverished, mercury-laden topsoil and that the piles of sandy tailings, the residue from the gold mining effort, and the pools of wastewater were irremediable...

"It feels good to see the forest grow back," says Pedro Ynfantes, 66, the miner whose legal mining concession of 1,110 acres includes this 10-acre patch of land where this young forest is located. "We don't want to deforest. When we had the opportunity to let the forest grow back, we took it. It's much better this way."

The opportunity he refers to came via U.S. nonprofit Pure Earth, which works with communities across the Global Southto remediate environmental problems left behind by mining, much of it illegal. Their biggest targets are mercury and lead contamination...

Security forces have launched anti-mining operations down the years, even blowing up the miners' equipment deep in the jungle. But most local politicians, including Madre de Dios' members of Peru's national congress, broadly support the miners, who are a powerful constituency in the relatively sparsely populated jungle region.

Restoring the forest

Pictured: France Cabanillas works for the nonprofit group Pure Earth, which is spearheading an effort to plant saplings in areas of the Peruvian Amazon that were devastated by illegal gold mining.

Now there's an effort to address the damage. Initially working with the region's legal miners, most of whom were here before the 2009 gold rush kicked off, the nonprofit group Pure Earth is using this patch of Ynfantes' land as a pilot project to show how the rainforest can be regenerated after the last traces of gold have been plucked from the soil.

It took a sustained outreach effort. Many miners are wary of or even downright hostile to foreign NGOs, which have repeatedly called for gold mining to be banned or severely curbed in the Peruvian Amazon — steps they say would cost them their livelihood.

"I am feeling optimistic," says France Cabanillas, Pure Earth's local coordinator, who has been appealing to the frustration of many miners at the heavy toll they have taken on the jungle and their desire to minimize their environmental footprint for the next generation.

"We still have a lot to do but this pilot is going well. Down the years, the miners have been getting a lot of stick but not much carrot when it comes to their environmental impacts," says Cabanillas. "We are offering them a carrot, allowing them to remediate their own impacts. Many of the miners do not want to be destroying the rainforest."

Before the miners plant the carefully-selected mix of tree species, they had to prepare the earth. Most of the topsoil had been washed away by the miners' heavy use of hoses.

That preparation involved adding biochar (burnt organic material) and even molasses, which contain fixed carbon and minerals, along with various other nutrients. The miners also had to dig tiny moats around the saplings to prevent all of this new planting from being washed away. Now, after three years, the forest is visibly coming back.

The rejuvenated rainforest also mitigates the impact of the mercury used by many of the illegal miners.

Research done by Pure Earth shows that the barren, sandy soil emits mercury. But in a rainforest, the ecosystem actually absorbs some of the metal, boosting public health."

-via NPR, April 2, 2024

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 6

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

"Lord husband" Love made herself present as soon as she entered his bedroom. If it wasn't for the peeling wallpaper, dust and decaying state of everything, the queen wouldn't know time had actually passed since their last private encounter. Things tend to stay the same in her husband’s palace, which was almost laughable since dreams are convoluted and always changeable. She entwined her fingers against her belly, her green eyes facing her husband, a very formal demure, but then, everything between them was formal.

Morpheus was discussing with his new raven, Matthew, as she recalled. Both speaking in internal voices. She didn’t hear what was the subject and they abruptly stopped when she arrived, her husband jumped at his feet, hands regally clasped together, looking like a young Austen Hero anxious in seeing his loving lady. Love never saw her husband so promptly to receive her. "Forgive me, I was not aware you were in a private audience. I shall leave you to it. I can return another time. Matthew." She apologizes, lowering her head to Dream and acknowledging the raven, as he awkwardly made a curtsy. It would actually be a relief if Morpheus dismissed her. She could return to the Garden and call it a night. Heavens knew she needed to sleep everything off.

As she turned her back to leave, her husband's calm but demanding tone made her stop. "Stay.” A calm order. A husband shouldn’t order his wife around. One of the oldest ingredients to make a disaster of marriage. Everytime she saw mortals, when the husband started to order the wife around, she knew it wouldn’t be a happy story. And rarely, Love was wrong

The brunette queen didn’t get offended by his commands, not anymore. In early years of union, she found deeply offensive the things he would say and do to her. She would silently weep, but now they did nothing. Before she could turn and nod in agreement, he hesitantly added in a softer foreign tone “Please.” Words that Love thought her husband would never say “Matthew is already leaving." Morpheus justified, his hand indicating the door to the raven, the pair quickly shared a knowing look.

If he ever made an effort to be in her company, Eoster couldn’t remember.

But then again, he was touch-starved. Men do impressive and uncharacteristic things for women’s good graces when they want something.

" Very well." With a tired sigh, turning her heels, she made her way to the bed as the white tulle of the camisole danced behind her. Sitting at her usual spot, the edge of the bed, stretching her camisole, crossing her heels with an upright posture, distracting herself, or better, avoiding looking at his direction, running fingers through the braid’s loose curls. The familiar soft mattress and dark satin covers were nostalgic to Love, better companions than her husband ever was.

“Have a good night, your majesty” The raven said it right before the door closed behind him, Matthew knew from his human years the sad truth behind that beautiful empty solemn face of the Queen. The dutiful wife, the classic stepford smiler. Forever upholding the shambles of marriage she couldn’t leave, being blamed by a misery she didn’t provoke, haunted by the shadows of mistresses she doesn’t know, obsessive trying to understand where it all went wrong.

The raven was thankful for not having to stay with them for any longer. Tension rose through the roof as soon as the royals got together. The boss never mentioned a wife, and yeah, Dream was not exactly Mr. Open Feelings, but a little warning that a boss lady was in the picture would've been nice. Back in the throne room, he saw in her face the accustomed embarrassment when the raven didn’t recognize her by name.

Lucienne didn’t help with any explanations, repeatedly saying that it was ‘complicated’ and that ‘They absolutely shouldn’t meddle between the King and the Queen’. That he got just from seeing their early interaction. And Marvyn said something in the lines ‘Look kid, all you need to know is to treat her well, and avoid the boss after they fight.’

Matthew didn’t want to assume Dream was to blame, but things were pretty obvious. First, the lady boss mentioned affairs, which are never good. Second, earlier, when they were retrieving the dreamsand, Morpheus remembered, with an unusual urgency, that he had to go back and see his wife, like he wasn’t used to going back to her. A new habit that he wasn’t yet on track. And the third, and final strike, that confirmed that his boss fucked it up: He was being uncharacteristic caring, like he wanted to make it up for a mistake, and the queen was not buying it. The woman barely showed any expression when he asked her to stay or said ‘please’ which, knowing Dream of the Endless, was shocking.

Matthew might be a bird now, but he knew that if the boss was expecting a little fun time with the boss lady, well, he was going to be surprised by the fun I-have-a-headache time. And by the look of his queen, he might get that for a long time. That wasn't the face of a woman ready to forgive.

As for him, the raven was relieved and grateful to the Queen or he would be in literal Hell right now, retrieving the King’s helmet. They would still go, but at least not now. Maybe Matthew would have some time to fly over to Lucienne, so that she could put some sense in the king’s head before just going to Hell. A better strategy maybe.

Love would’ve remained in complete silence, until hearing the sound of unfastening belt, her usual queue to lay down, and try to find something to do with her time, while Morpheus found his pleasure. That was how they usually did it. Silence, muffled growls, dull whimpers, cleaning cloths. “ My presence might be in one of your books. I retrieve my sand amidst a final encounter of two lovers.” If Love didn’t know better, she would’ve thought her husband was trying to awkwardly make small talk. He wandered through the room, before standing in front of her. One side of Love wishes for a fight. It burned her throat, wanting to question him when he missed one of his precious little toys, but instead, she answered distantly, her lips pushed in a forced discreet smile while looking up to him “How fortunate”

Before even leaving the Garden, she knew he had visited Johanna Constatine. Due to the woman’s line of work, it made sense that he retrieved his sand from her. Her knowledge of Constantine and Dream’s encounter was not because of curiosity of the queen. She long learned to avoid pain, meant to avoid sniffing around her husband’s private encounters. Her heart felt relieved that he didn’t immediately look for comfort in another woman’s bed. A feeling Love couldn’t escape, as much as she wisely knew it would only hurt her.

Dream went to Johanna because of his sand, and he stumbled into a misfortune story between two lovers. One that had her life tormented by the occult, and the other, tormented with addiction. Poor Johanna and Rachel, doomed from the start, at the end of their tale, however, an unusual substance was what brought them together for a final reunion, and was also responsible for the second one inevitable fate: Dream sand. And in those pages, there was her husband. The responsible for giving Rachel a peaceful death, dreaming of love. A painful story, with a bittersweet ending.

He could’ve let her die a painful death, especially after abusing his precious sand. Sand that was stolen, and traded. But he graced her with a peaceful ending. If she didn’t know that the books from her library were always a raw portrait of lovers' entwined lives, Love would’ve thought they mistaken Morpheus for another anthropomorphic personification. Normally, he would let the mortal agonize in the end, a fair punishment for her sins. But this time, he showed empathy. That puzzled her more than she was willing to admit. Even worse, it made her uncertain of his unchangeable nature. Pondering that maybe, there was a small, but real hope.

Love dismissed those thoughts lightly, turning her attention back to the raven haired king, dangerously close to her, knees touching each other, both staring at each other in a silence that spoke more than words. Morpheus hesitantly touched her face, lightly caressing her cheek, she watched him as a wild animal near his predator, not able to predict what’s next. “You look beautiful” He softly whispered, lips curved in a small smile. A foreign intimacy. She shriveled at his touch, turning her face away “You don't have to woo me, to lay with me” She couldn’t stand his gaze, not when he was looking at her with such kindness, it hurted more than he could ever understand. Years after years she yearned for that kindness, for the soft touches, and he denied her. Now she felt insulted by it.

It was a laughable attempt to fix something long broken. Morpheus might reshape dreams and nightmares, create and rewrite stories, but he couldn’t erase her pain, he couldn’t pretend he made it impossible for them to be happy. He decided on a loveless marriage. Love has done everything she could and couldn't to make him happy and gained nothing but scars she did nothing to earn. The King of Dreams always had to be the miserable tortured lonely figure under the pouring rain, tricked and trapped.

“Forgive me, my lady, for misleading you” He cleared his throat steeping back, giving space to his wife, she could sense his uneasiness, some unusual red in his face, but his stoic front remained “I have no intentions in bedding you I-” Impatiently, she got up from the bed, walking to the other side of the bedroom turning to him, taking a deep breath “Lord Husband, we have been married for centuries now, in this time you only summoned me to your chambers when you wanted to bed me.” ‘And when there were no mistresses available’. She wished to say, but decided to avoid what would lead to a heated argument “That is not-" He started to defend himself, but Love was tired, she put a hand in her head trying to calm herself to not scream, sternly looking at him.

Both could feel the tension rising again, prelude to another fight " Yes, it is, husband.” Love signed hands dropping in defeat, tired of debating what is not up for debate. “I am beyond flattered by your remarks, but I am exhausted, if it pleases you, bed me, if not, I won't further bother you, and would appreciate being excused. Elijah is expecting me, I told him it would be brief." Love enterwind her hands against her front, assuming a stiff posture.

“You won’t be spending the night.” He concluded. The first time Morpheus said this to her, he briefly informed her about how their life in private would be: Separate rooms, separate beds, separate lives. This time, a hint of disappointment in his voice, as he expected that she would want to stay. Love had no idea why he thought she would like to.

Even if it wasn’t a question, Love answered. “No, I won’t. My room is probably still, in dreadful conditions”. Shattered glasses, wine stained sheets, pillow feathers everywhere. Their worst and final quarrel, it was a dreadful day and devastation followed closed by their screams at the sound of thrown glasses. “You can sleep here.” He mumbled softly and Love was certain she had imagined it. Not knowing if he was suggesting or demanding it, she tested the waters “So kind of you, husband” The grip on her fingers got tighter, her knuckles almost white in tension “But I would rather not. I would like to do your bidding and return to my realm.” If it was a demand, he would have been livid by the rejection, but it wasn't a rejection if he was merely politely suggesting, as one suggests, a friend to spend the night during a storm.

He slowly nodded "Of course.” So he was indeed suggesting. She could hear the engines in her husband’s head, as she let out a breath of relief. He wasn’t used to his cold apathetic and formal wife, and she wasn’t used to his new caring and respectful persona. Old Morpheus would’ve already been finished with her, and if they had half of the conversation they had, he would’ve humiliated her to remember her place. And Old Eoster would’ve already showered him with wet long kisses and giggles just by the spark of his attention.

“If you may, I would like to show you something.” Love looked from his face to his hand, now pointing to the door he opened. She didn't remember if her husband ever gave her so much choice in their relationship. It was frankly, overwhelming.

She wondered what would happen if she just said 'no'.

" Outside the bedroom”. He saw the obvious suspicion in her eyes “Is that your bidding?” He made a way so Love could exit first, “Yes, it is”. The woman avoidantly walked past him, still waiting for the catch.

As soon as both were in the corridor, he offered her his arm, and she politely denied it, by looking away. Once again, he surprisingly didn’t get offended by her denial. Why he was in a good mood to accept such defiance was a mystery. His realm was destroyed, his toys missing, and his wife apathetic and dismissive. No reason for being this nice. “Follow me" he walked a few steps in front of her and Love followed the dark figure of her husband, keeping a safe distance. They didn't talk much during their short walk, and Love took the time to assess the damage in the palace. There was no real destruction, but a real abandonment.

She guessed that was what happened when the monarch didn't attend the realm, probably what happened to Lord Destruction's, her brother in law's realm. The idea of abandoning her realm, her creations, the sole base of her existence was a brutal one. Sometimes the job overwhelmed her, but never enough to consider leaving it all behind to its own luck. " How are the plans to rebuild the Dreaming?" She asked, wanting to shove away those thoughts of fleeing away.

Also she was curious to know if he actually had any plans to rebuild his realm, or if he expected her to hold the solstice festival in a palace of deplorable conditions, dust all over the hallways from columns that were flaking "Why are you asking?" Love frowned at his tone "Am I not allowed to ask about it?" He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut, cursing himself very aware of the thin line between passive aggressiveness and a straight heated argument. "That is not what I meant, lady wife"

Everything between them was a prelude to a fight. Morpheus and Eoster have never been on the same page, and they never stopped to try to get there. Both in such different headspaces that they were incapable of going through one conversation without misunderstanding each other. "You did not seem interested before in my quest to find my sand, I gather you weren't interested at all" He explained, if Dream looked back, he could see Love rolling her eyes "Well, I am interested in knowing the conditions I am to hold the Solstice Festival, husband.” The spite when calling him, sent Morpheus shivers. “If your memory fails you, It is one of the most important and prestigious festivals in the Garden, my apprentices debut on it and-” He turned to her, interrupting. "Worry not. I would not want to embarrass you " Love stretched her lips mumbling a ‘That would be a first’, lowering her head in a respect that didn't match her sharp answer " No? I am honored by your gracious newfound concern with my emotional distress". Love starred in defiance, walking closely past him, staying a few steps ahead.

Both returned to the silent walk, as they walked side by side. A few minutes of walk went by, until he opened two french doors with a single pull "We are here, my lady".

Love couldn’t hold her gasp.

Her Garden. Not her realm, but her garden in the Dreaming, ‘The Queen's Gardens’ as the dreamfolk would call. She forgot about it. The beautiful blooms in shades of red, pink, white, lilac, the sweet fragrance mixed with rain-washed earth, "It's the only part of the Dreaming that remained intact." He said it, stepping aside to let her enter. Of course it didn't fade. It wasn't Dream's powers that fueled it, but Love's. It has grown wild in her absence. Untamed nature, untrimmed, tempestuous, but full, strong, with deep roots.

She could see from the corner of her eyes, her husband admiring the red roses, reaching to touch one "Be careful, husband, spurned roses, grow sharp thorns" She said while admiring the long lilac cascades of Wisterias, that formed an arc at the entering, working their way into the crooks and crannies of the naked brick walls. Hyacinths, Carnations, Daisies, Roses, Casa Blanca Lilies in vivid colors, painting the gloomy field of the Dreaming, all fully grown and abundant. She slowly walked, tumbling in some weeds that had grown between paving stones.

It always gave her a warmth visiting her gardens after a long time. That nostalgic feeling, that makes the heart fuzzy but hurts the chest thinking of the time that went by. Her long skirt dragged through the damp floor, but Love didn't mind. " It was my first gift to you, a sanctuary were you could remember your home" Love allowed herself smile, inhaling the darling aromas, sitting in the stone bench made for two, that was almost covered in bold vines "And I love it, a white canvas I could not wait to show it to you when I finished it. Those-" She pointed at the other side of the garden, where Morpheus could see the nightly blooming flowers. “Moonflowers, Evening Primroses, Jasmines, Queen of The Night, all bloom at night. It was supposed to be a sigil of our love. The intersection between my springs and your nights.”

Love stared at the small water fountain, a few steps away from her, in the center of the garden, it still worked, as the sound of falling water filled their ears. Moss had grown around its base and aquatic weeds violently invaded the bowls although some water lilies still float. “I wanted it to be a small garden where lovers could dream and find each other here. I was so proud when I finished, I thought that…” A tight knot in the base of her throat, oh the naivety! She swallowed hard. “That if you could see how much I was devoted to it, you were going to see how I would be capable of caring for you, for your kingdom." Her mind lost in memories, remembering the thrill of her heart and the disappointment soon after realizing Dream would never come. "But you never came."

" But your creations did. Your nightmares. I have no idea how they found me, but they did. I pity their souls." She remembers Gault. The first time Love saw the nightmare she was almost tiptoeing, carefully walking, afraid of touching anything, afraid of destroying its peacefulness, its beauty, but eyes sparkling seeing the garden. "Tormented ones, forever hunted by their own craft." At first, Gault didn't stay much, jumping at her feet at the first sight of the Queen. But after some visits, and Love assuring the creation she couldn't change anything in her garden (not even if she wanted to), Gault started to walk with the Queen, learning about each flower, and before you know, Gault was helping water and trim the plants. In exchange, Love would get bits of her mind, she was interested in understanding how nightmares did their jobs, and if the burden was not heavy.

The Corinthian took a while, and Love often had to pretend not to see him sneaking into her garden. She didn't want to scare him away, but was anxious to get to know another of her husband's creations, especially the one she heard was one of his most 'perfect' ones. Although she could not fathom the idea of a perfect nightmare, being horrified by the thought of its meaning.

Even suspicious, Love welcomed the nightmare into her small greenery, after all, she was his Queen. "I think that here they had some peace, a small idyllic paradise, where they could just be a part of." Love liked to think she helped ease the pain in their hearts.

To be a dream was easy, everyone loved what you did, humans were eager to be around them, to meet them. To be a nightmare was a heavy burden. Eoster was no longer smiling when other memories, their terrible confessions, the pure agony and duality in their existence, came to her. How they could not wish for more, but needed to help mortals overthrown and face their fears. "I took advantage of those poor nightmares. '' Love confessed, a single tear rolling through her cheek, as her chest felt heavy " I lure them with kindness, something so foreign to them. Easing their heavy hearts with softhearted words, listening to their afflictions to masquerade the emptiness of my days, to fill my loneliness, knowing that my hands were tied.” Morpheus stood quiet, he knew she was talking more to herself than to him. He didn’t know. His obliviousness angers him. “I've never promised anything, of course, but maybe I should've. I should've done something." The king tried to cut her, knowing that trail of thoughts wouldn’t bring anything other than distress " My Lady, I…." But she continued, as more tears roll freely staining her face " If I did it, if I had the bravery to face you, if I wasn’t fearful you would toss me aside and isolate me more than you already did, maybe they would not have been gone, maybe they would not had left me here".

The Queen stayed in silence for a few minutes. Morpheus knew she was lonely, but never would have imagined how much it affected her. Loneliness was an old friend of the king, one that he grew used to. His Queen had loneliness imposed on her. No wonders she was moping in the corners in their first years of marriage. Morpheus didn’t share any royal duty with her, he didn’t allow her to go back to the Garden, and still got irritated when she looked for a little sympathy and was not content. The realization felt heavy in his chest: He made his wife a gilded cage, a bigger one than his glass prison but still, a cage. The nightmares, who would’ve thought, were a companionship for her, the only thing she had.

"I…"

In a sudden movement, the queen got up to her feet, cleaning with the back of her hand the stained tears.”Is that all? Did I attend to your bidding? May I return to my realm?" Morpheus felt an urgency to keep her, if she could just allowed him to do better, to find the right words…" Already? Don't you wanna…" She started to walk away, walking past him almost elbowing her husband. Love was almost at the door when she turned her heels, and forgot about poise and demure. "And you didn't give this for me to have a ‘part of home', husband, you gave it because you were annoyed by my constant ‘nagging' about the Garden.”

" That is not…" Again, she cut him "I heard you speaking to Lucienne, don’t deny it." Love heard both in the throne room, she remembers Lucienne asking the king if his wife liked the gift, and he dismissively replying that liking or not, at least she would stop nagging. That made Eoster furious. At the time, she kept her poise, after all she was eavesdropping even if it wasn’t on purpose, but now, it made her beyond furious. It made her enrage.

He spoke highly of himself as she should be grateful for a piece of 'her home' in his realm. Like he was this benevolent king. To Hell with that. "I didn't need a garden, I didn't need my home. I needed my husband. I needed us. I needed to make it here, our home, together. And you couldn't be bothered by it. You were too busy showering dear Calliope with your never ending passion!"

Love swore to herself she would never bring that woman’s name again, but that was exactly what he was doing and how he spent his time. Morpheus reacted quickly rushing toward her, like she cursed all of his siblings together. He got closed to Love, threatening look in his eyes, finger in her face" Don't you bring her into this." Love raised her eyes, facing him with the same intensity, not taking a single step back, slapping his finger down "Oh, but I will. You were so unbothered, that you put a child in her. Her, not me, not your own wife." The only one that could give him a legitimate heir. The flowers wither with her words, petals falling dry, the vibrant greens fading into paling browns.`”Not even to give me something to alleviate my pain, something to love. No. And you didn't even have the decency to hide him!"

How he ruined public events for her, where she needed to endure the looks of pity, the whispers that stopped as she got close, Love having to smile through it all, like she was an airhead that could not see what was under her nose. Speaking of love, devotion, like a fool. Having to walk around parties hanging in her husband’s arms, being forever polite, kind, elegant, excusing his moodiness, not showing a single regret or insatisfaction. It cut through her like a knife. "I was in pain! Tricked by…Calliope and I were togeth-" Morpheus caught himself justifying the unjustifiable. He promised to himself that he would condemn his wrong doings, he would agree with his wife, but out of habit, he dismissed her feelings, as his were the priority. He also did not like to be put against the wall like she was doing, calling his sins out in the open. Love was never one to do such things.

"What about my pain?! My suffering? Did my lord ever think about it? " She was openly crying, fighting the tears trying to speak, avoiding the whimper in the back of her throat "I did I-" He lied, stumbling to find the words. "No, you did not. Don't humiliate yourself by underestimating me with your pitiful lies. You gave me a garden.” She said spitefully, hands loudly falling between her side giving up. “Somewhere you could shove me away without judgmental looks from your subjects or your siblings." That was the truth, one that she hid for centuries, always repeating the narrative that he gave her the garden to be close to her home. "That's not- '' Again he tried to retrieve the narrative.

Maybe she would have listened if he wasn't trying to justify instead of owning his actions. How could she forgive him, if he was still trying to play the helpless tortured victim? Love was done, she turned her back to him, "Goodnight husband" Walking away at a fast pace. Morpheus watched her leave, as he felt something tickling his hair. Reaching for it, he saw a red petal with brown marks, the velvet touch was now dry and crumbling as he looked around, he realized the garden was now dead.

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