#but i also believe i could have made it in 1

[nodynasty4us]

More from the reblogs:

Also worth noting that asking people who they're voting for or discussing candidate policies is pretty illegal on polling location grounds.#If you're a federal worker there's something called the Hatch Act that makes discussing political affairs SUPER ILLEGAL!#But yes your activism is commendable but it's more important for you to be safe. Lie like hell if you have to in order to stay safe!

how much you wanna bet republicans are going to try to go after private voting after this?

I hate that we hold up honesty as this unassailable virtue#that we don't teach people the difference between wanting to avoid taking responsibility and needing to protect yourself#it's another reason I hate corporal punishment so much#if you teach your children that it's wrong to lie even if they know you're going to hit them for telling the truth#then how are they going to know that they don't owe their spouse a truth that the spouse will hit them for?

my older sibling voted for Obama and never told our mother even tho mom was the one who DROVE them to the polling place

Republicans are really out here saying they’d rather be cucked than have their wives vote for Kamala and not tell them.

I was definitely too spooked to vote too far out of line the first time#Fun fact you don't gotta be spooked just vote whatever

for a group that loves tradition conservatives have really forgotten that so many peoples grandparents would NEVER discuss politics#EVER#my parents would never know who their parents were voting for#it was private. secret.#I never knew my grandfather's politics#either of them

and also don't say you wrote in yourself or him or someone you know because if your county releases a record of who received votes#and you or he don't appear with having received a solitary vote then he could extrapolate that you lied#so just say you voted for who he wanted you to vote for#and make plans to leave him#because if hes this frothing mad at the idea of you voting based on your own conscience then you need to get out

seriously you ain't gotta tell nobody who you vote for#also the volume and intensity of their outrage is meant to intimidate you#they are trying to scare you#'

What's "nauseating" is that these men - Watterson and Kirk - obviously don't believe in women as people, who have rights separate from men - from their fathers, husbands, or sons.

But imagine the gender-flipped scenario: An ad that tells you that you don’t have to vote for who your wife wants to vote for, and you don’t even have to tell her who you voted for — after all, you’re your own man, right? Suddenly, it sounds like common sense.

I hope we see a MASS of divorces after this.#that said I think we need to start getting ready to give additional support to battered women shelters.

If it was 1% more socially acceptable and politically strategically viable to say so, they would just straight up tell you that they want to take away your right to vote as a woman.

i remember seeing some right wingers saying that women shouldnt vote because why would you need to vote differently than your husband#and while i think comments like that are made to get people angry and talking#it's interesting to see the same exact sentiment described in this article#“imagine a man working so hard just for his wife to vote against him” thats crazy#proof they hate women and proof they hate democracy#but we already knew that

And they want to take away no-fault divorce. They don't want partners, they want possessions.

"How'd you vote?" "Same as everyone. Secret ballot."

Also if you have to lie you might seriously want to consider a lesbian affair. At least I think that's what Republicans are saying.

also the fact that the republicans were so mad about that ad proves that the ad is right#there's a reason your wife has to lie to you bud

this is on the heels of one trillion pity party op-eds scolding liberals for not wanting to date conservatives or estranging RW family

12:01 PM

The desperation to control woman is disgusting. Crazy from the party of "freedom"

republican men feeling entitled to control how their wife votes is so fuckin….#i'm grossed out for these women#we need to make it easier for divorce in the usa and i'm not joking

not quite related but u can also lie to the democrats themselves#you can say ''i wont vote for you unless you stop giving weapons to israel''… and then vote for them anyway#this is the having your cake and eating it of using your vote for political activism#except that in this case you actually can have your cake and eat it#as long as you're not discouraging others from voting just telling the democrats themselves this (#(in calls to your representative in emails etc etc)#it has no particular downside

my sisters told me they lied to our mom cause they came home to her angrily watching a trump rally#i dont know HOW she believed them#this is the same person who told me 'im not sure im going to let you leave the house until youre voting for the right person'

Republican men don't believe in female autonomy. You, as their wife, daughter, sister, and even mother are their property and its your job to vote their beliefs. Don't worry you're pretty little head and "try" and think for yourself ladies they'll do the thinkin for you….. Don't know how anyone could stand being married to or dating a man like that, but it sure seems to be quite common.

lie about who you voted for and then cheat on your husband, problem solved

Really makes me think of all the whining they do about how liberal women don't want to date conservative men. They'll say that we can just agree to disagree, but then act like a husband owns his wife's vote.

in 2016 I almost got into a fight with my aunt when I told her I voted for Clinton#it really shook me up and I think I cried afterward#both my mom and my doctor separately comforted me and told me “’you never have to tell anyone who you voted for#if they ask tell them it’s none of their business’#they went on to lament how when they were younger it was common courtesy not to ask how someone voted and they don’t like how people#feel entitled to know how someone voted

lying is easier than a divorce#he'll never know#and then maybe one day this decision can help get you the other tools you need to be free of a controlling man

Absolutely lie if you need to. This thread and the ad reminded me how my conservative parents refused to take me to absentee vote when I was in college because they knew I wasn't going to vote GOP. It was the first time I was old enough to vote, and I didn't have a car. My grandmother took me so I could vote before I went back to school. This was over 30 years ago!

so if believe these people think voting for a different candidate is like having an affair#does that mean theyre fucking trump. or something

Amazing how many republican men see their wives as extensions of themselves and not people with their own minds#to paraphrase Granny Weatherwax “Thinking of people as things is were Evil begins.”

it's a secret ballot for a reason#seriously this is why ballot selfies are banned; to protect the secrecy of your vote

“wife lying about her vote is as bad as an affair.” US is wild! Here, you go vote and press a button. Over there you go out and FUCK THE CANDIDATE! Now I understand why the voting time spread through a lot of days! It never made sense to me, but they do need to recover, get some electrolytes…

Man, conservative men just love announcing how fragile they are.

it is always okay to lie to keep yourself safe. it'd be good to start working on a plan to get tf out of this dangerous situation, mind. but: baby steps.

I don't live at my parents anymore#and I'm in a safe space so I don't give a shit about being as vocal as I am#but once upon a time I wasn't#and I got into a huge fight with my mom about it because she voted for Trump and#and I did not#and it was really touch and go whether or not I'd still have a home after that#republicans are always deep into their own dramatics#this is NOT the same as cheating and they're lying to scare you

Every man who has had an affair deserves a woman who votes for Kamala. (Not really, he deserves to be alone. His significant other certainly deserves better. I just was trying to adulterer-shame)

this ad feels sooooo familiar for anyone who's ever been in an emotionally abusive relationship#i would not put it past my dad to pull this shit if any of us (including my mom) still lived with him#all the troll comments going 'but wHy WouLd YoU LiE tO yOuR hUsBaNd???' are being intentionally dense#so that he doesn't make her life even more of a living hell behind closed doors! that's fucking why!

From the October 31, 2024 article:

“In the one place in America where women still have a right to choose, you can vote any way you want. And no one will ever know,” Roberts says in the ad as a woman on screen meets up with her husband after casting her ballot for Harris.

The voter winks at a fellow female voter as her husband asks if she made the “right choice.”

Republicans have responded to the video with outrage, with some claiming that a wife lying about her vote is as bad as an affair.

“If I found out Emma was going to the voting booth and pulling the lever for Harris, that’s the same thing as having an affair,” Fox News host Jesse Watters said on air Wednesday in a clip highlighted by Mediaite.

Other GOP members including Charlie Kirk said the thought was “nauseating.”

[inbabylontheywept]

Weird Grandpa Dale Story #1

The day started with me digging up cactus. Grandpa Dale had a weird beef with cactuses, bad enough to pay me 10 cents for every pound I turned in. Looking back at it, I think they offended him because they could exist without his consent: They didn't need his water, they didn't need his fertilizer, and they certainly didn't need his permission. 

And that, he simply could not abide. 

Grandpa Dale had been doing something weird that whole morning. I knew because I'd been able to watch him since sunrise. Every time I took a break from digging cactus to look back at the house, I saw him doing something with the gopher holes. 

That made me nervous. Things never went well when he started messing with the gophers.  Earlier that month he'd tried gassing them out, and all he got from that effort was nasty looking blisters up both arms. He almost never complained about anything, but he griped all day about how bad those blisters hurt. When his wife suggested that he go to the hospital he said No, what am I gonna tell them? That my trench got overrun? They wouldn't buy that. They'd think I was cooking meth. 

Which was funny to hear, but also, true, and also, enough for me to know better than to get involved in future gopher battles. 

Which is to admit that I did get involved. But I should've known better. A few hours in, he invited me over, gave me a cold soda, and showed me what he had set up: Two camping chairs, a wicked sharp shovel, a car battery, and a long length of copper wire leading to a pit he'd dug in the middle of the yard. Told me that if I stayed a bit and took a break, cooled down there with a soda in the shade, I'd see something amazing. I asked him if there was even a chance I could get hurt by this "something amazing", and he said "no," which I knew was a bald faced lie. But I believed him because I wanted to believe him. Because I wanted to know what he'd done, and I wanted to sit there in the shade with my grandpa. I also figured, hey, maybe getting gassed taught him a lesson. 

(Never, ever assume that the kind of person willing to break out chemical weapons against gophers is capable of being taught a lesson.) 

So I sat down in my chair and he beamed at that. He loved having an audience. Then I watched him lean forward and tap the ends of the wire against the battery terminals.

And that's where everything went wrong.  

The first thing that hit me was the yard itself. Little bits of sand and grit flying fast enough to hit my skin and bite. It took a year and change for all the little bits to work their way out. But I didn't even feel it at the time, because of what happened after. 

I genuinely think he'd imagined the gophers getting launched out of the holes, disoriented but alive. I think that shovel was there to finish them off afterwards. Which also would've been traumatizing, but probably less so than watching each of those cute little gopher holes projectile vomit bloody piles of tattered critter all over the lawn. 

Which, spoiler alert, is exactly what happened. The sky fell down, and the ground flew up, and the gophers found themselves with nowhere to go. So they did the next best thing and went a little bit everywhere.

I don't think it was actually silent afterwards, but I couldn't hear shit. There was just this long, ringing period of us looking at each other, then the meat piles, then the lawn crater, then the big buckled section of yard that looked oddly like Rockies just behind us, then back to each other. 

I think I did that two or three times before I felt my shoulders start to shake a little. I was crying. Felt weird to cry and not be able to hear it. Like a tic almost, or the way your body seizes up right before you puke. 

And then I looked at his face, and I saw him mouth a single soundless word: 

Shit.

[intuitively-her]

There could be some turbulence going on with your family or your partner maybe? You might be in hermit mode right now because of this. Please know that these hard times will not last forever. You are getting into alignment with what's meant for you. This is a good time to manifest! You need to get serious and hone in on your goals. You are getting ready to walk into a brand new energy. Take heed on the opportunities being presented to you at this time.

Set your intentions! Use this time to dream without thinking about the limitations of life. Now is the time to start fresh! Don't let your past define you. Every day is a new opportunity to grow and learn. You need to use your voice to share your gifts with the world. Your skills are something special. Get grounded so that you can be more in touch with your intuition. Walk by faith, not by sight. Trust that your situation will get better.

You could be going through a tough time right now. Don't let yourself become closed off because of this though. It would actually benefit you to mingle with others right now. Once you start going out more and trying new things, it will help you release that stuck energy. For someone here, it's time to reconsider moving to a different city. This will allow so many opportunities to roll in for you. Like pile 1, you possess many different skills that need to be shown off. Stop sleeping on yourself!

It's time to wake up! Face your shadows, feel your emotions, and let them go once and for all. Don't feel embarrassed or ashamed to show vulnerability. You are human, just like everyone else. So, stop being so hard on yourself. If you can, talk to an elder or a parent about your current situation. Listen to their wisdom. And please, remember that life is not about the destination, it's about the journey. Take things day by day.🩷

You are stepping into a new and confident energy! Lately, you've been staying in your lane and focusing on your goals/what you need to heal. You've been glowing lately!😍 Keep up the good work. You could be gaining some sort of popularity soon. You need to know that your hard work is not going to waste. I pulled the 10 of pentacles and the 10 of cups for you. You are coming into alignment with your manifestations. Someone here needs to beware of an impure offer coming from a masculine at work. You could already have an idea of who this is. This person will want to "make a deal" with you. This is giving me pyramid scheme vibes ngl. Someone that you rejected or vice versa really wants another chance with you. They feel like y'all got off on the wrong foot. Your judgement was clouded in this situation, and you allowed your fears to get in the way of this connection. They're being genuine though; you can trust them.

You need to incorporate more spells or potions into your manifestation routine. This will allow situations to go in your favor much easier. Use your resources to help create the life that you desire. Your spirit team also wants you to stop worrying! Whether it's about a bill, your health, etc. You are protected! 444,888

It is time to let go of this person/situation that you're stuck on. It's blocking new things from coming in for you. You could feel like your life is at a standstill right now, especially at work. You need to believe in yourself! Hold yourself to a higher standard. Stop entertaining people, situations, and habits that are beneath you. It's time to lock in with yourself and put your skills to use. Once you do, life will start to flow in your favor.

You are being guided to tap into the hidden realms of your subconscious mind. Get in touch with your spiritual side. Allow your intuition to guide you. Do more things that help you feel grounded. Your guides are waiting to be made use of. Call on them when you need help, talk to them when you need clarity; they will be there for literally anything. Continue to explore your craft and exercise your gifts. And please remember that life is not a race, you're doing just fine.😉

*ONLY TAKE WHAT RESONATES*

🩷Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work. Thanks!🩷

[tainbocuailnge]

so I haven't touched arknights in like. about a year or so, but it sounds like Crownslayer is a gravel style opp? Which. idk back when I was playing Gravel was still an incredible unit for her ability to be dropped and just stall someone for a bit. and crownslayer having stun and evasion, as well as being able to provide evasion to other units, sounds like a similar style of insane??? idk why people are saying she's bad she sounds bonkers

(tho I might be wrong, like I said I've not touched the game since like Il Sira)

the problem is that people have developed a completely warped idea of what an executor specialist is supposed to look like because texas and yato are not actually good representatives of the subclass.

the game started with gravel and projekt red, and waai fu was added early in year 1. gravel is built to facetank damage with her massive shield and to this day she remains undefeated in that role. red meanwhile is more damage oriented, meant to chip away at medium-threat targets with her s1 or do a bit of crowd control with her s2. waai fu follows this philosophy of having some defensive utility on her s1 (an atk debuff) to let her 1v1 medium-damage priority targets and crowd control utility on s2 (inflicting silence). their damage was never crazy high, their use was in crowd control including plugging leaks, reducing incoming damage through methods like debuffs or just baiting attacks, and taking out priority targets like elite casters or guerilla heralds at a lower cost than throwing a whole dreadnought guard at it.

then phantom released around the first anniversary as the first 6* of the archetype and his skills cover every job that you would previously need separate specialists for. his s1 tanks physical damage, his s2 lets him quickly handle medium-threat targets, and his s3 has crowd control in a large area. phantom on release was genuinely the pinnacle of fast-redeploy specialists because he was all of the other fast-redeploys in one, and you could deploy him twice to boot. despite this he still left reason to use the others instead of him if you really needed a specific bit of utility, and gravel in particular made it so his s1 was rarely actually used because she was just better at it. I consider this a good thing from a game design perspective, but I also believe this created this idea that phantom is (was) the best executor because he has more damage than the other executors, instead of because he's 2-4 utility units in a trenchcoat. phantom is an executor that is two executors.

in year 2 kafka released and she stuck with this idea of chipping away at enemies and doing funny crowd control with her weird range and sleep debuff. in philosophy she's still exactly what executors were originally supposed to be, bringing a new angle to the concept that doesn't clash with what the others were doing. kafka is an executor that is an executor.

skip forward to year 4 and we get texas, who despite everything still retains the shadow of the original spirit of the subclass. she has silence utility, she has the ability to pick off targets, she has crowd control. but it's year 4 and she's a limited operator, so she also deals more damage than all previous executors combined could ever dream of and also hits air with her stuns because we introduced an enemy gimmick where you want anti-air stuns since we last made an executor. her s2 does more single target dps than surtr s3 or so i've been told. texas is really more like a high damage guard cosplaying as an executor.

then only half a year after texas they bring in yato who just straight up does not even have utility, all she does is infinite fucking damage and her crowd control is killing the crowd dead. she's not an executor in the original sense, she's some other thing, like how mountain is a brawler that is not a brawler. but because she and texas released so closely together and both do so much damage, people now think that an executor's job is to deal a lot of damage and that the utility on texas is a bonus instead of part of the original conceit.

and it's this warped idea of executors that crownslayer is being compared to. crownslayer is doing exactly what executors have been doing from the start, namely taking out medium-threat priority targets, reducing incoming damage, and providing crowd-control utility. she's an executor that is an executor, same as phantom, but where phantom combined the at the time existing executors into his kit crownslayer instead looks at the functionality that executors are meant to provide and approaches it from a different angle. obviously I haven't actually used her myself because she just released on CN but on paper she looks incredibly well designed for her job of being an executor

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Am Forever Yours (part 1)

Day 1: Gentleman

Summary: Lucien is his gentlemanly self. Of course, not without being a rake.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1111 (lmao)

Warnings: none, just lucy being a delulu girlie 🤭

A/n: lol it wont be like my if i posted stuff that arent series for character weeks loll. happy @lucienweekofficial to all my fellow lucien simps, i love you all hehe.

(also i wouldnt say he is very gentlemanly in his thoughts, but we all know he wouldnt be 😏)

anyways, ENJOY🥹

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lucien stood by himself against the wall nearest to the refreshment tables, quietly humming along to the rising tunes of the violins from the opposite corner, eyeing the couples twirling around the dance floor. If he cared, he would have opened a dancing class just to teach the men how to dance. If he were the one dancing with them, he would be so embarrassed.

The women though. They were the embodiment of grace, elegance and poise, so beautiful and twirling like they were born to conquer dance floors.

Alas, Lucien could not do anything to bring them justice except for cursing their partners.

With that depressing thought, Lucien moved away to set his empty glass on the table when someone bumped into him, jerking him forward and making the glass shatter as it hit the floor. Lucien looked at the broken glass, then turned away to look at the perpetrator who led to its demise, and did a double take.

Wide, frantic eyes moved to meet his after surveying the crime scene of the murdered glass, and blinked at him when he did nothing, as if she had expected to be yelled at and he had surprised her.

Her cheeks shimmered lightly under the lights emanating from the numerous chandeliers hanging from the carved ceiling, her shoulders pushed back and enhancing the look of her collar bones. Just the sight of those made Lucien swallow hard.

Who is this goddess?

While Lucien had been busy ogling the lady who clearly hailed from a high family clearly given away by her dressing, an older lady sharing the same hair and eyes appeared, glaring. "Y/n Jade, I cannot believe you would be so clumsy. Do you need to go back to school?"

Y/n?

Definitely moanable-

Fuck.

Pretty, Lucein told himself he meant to say pretty. Pretty name for a pretty lady.

The older lady turned to give Lucien an apologetic glance. "Forgive me, sir, for my daughter has begun to lose her mind." With a scathing glance at Y/n, she continued. "How are you enjoying the party? I haven’t seen you around much. Are you from this city?"

Lucien offered her a polite tilt of his lips. "Yes, though I prefer to travel. I work under my father as his emissary."

Lucien figured this lady did not know of his parentage, and he would love for it to remain that way.

"Oh, that’s wonderful."

Lucien could see the gears turning in the woman’s head, and he wished he had a glass of drink in his hands so he could hide his smirk behind the rim. Even not knowing that he was the youngest prince, everyone wanted their daughters to marry this fine specimen of a gentleman.

And why would they not, Lucien wondered. He was everything anyone could wish for, if just slightly cocky.

Not cocky. Just the slightest bit self assured.

"Well, I fear I must go hunt for my husband to make sure he isn’t making a fool out of himself. Y/n, why don’t you give your new friend some company while I search for your father?"

The lady, who by now was clear was Y/n’s mother, turned away and strode off, leaving Lucien to look at Y/n, who rolled her eyes. It amused Lucien to no end.

This was new.

"So… how old are you?" Lucien mumbled, trying to get rid of the stagnant silence between the two when it became clear that Y/n found the numerous chandeliers and the arguably bad dancers more intriguing than Lucien.

She only spared him a glance before turning her gaze towards the orchestra. "Twenty two."

"I’m twenty five."

She hummed in response.

"Your name is Y/n?"

Finally, she heaved an exasperated sigh and shot him an unamused look. "Yes, I would have assumed that was clear by now."

Lucien blinked. No one talked to him like that, even when he acted like he was one of the lowly townsfolk when he travelled to avoid attention.

"I- I’m Lucien."

"Did I ask?"

He stared at her a moment, eyes widening before dipping his head, fumbling for the first time in his life when talking to a lady. "I… I just thought-"

She snorted. "Stop thinking then."

He nodded dumbly, trying to focus on the strings of the instrument that was leading the song currently playing, the shine of his boot, the crunching glass under his toes, anything to stop himself from focusing on this lady who was thoroughly uninterested in him.

It made him want to interest her even more.

"You’re from which family?"

"Oak."

The favoured advisor of the king would be her father then.

"Y/n Jade Oak? That’s a pretty name."

"I know."

Lucien inhaled, deciding that if he wanted to get a reaction out of this ethereal creature who seemed to not know how to give any reaction other than unbothered, he would have to tell her something she wouldn’t expect. "I’m from the Vanserra’s. The king’s youngest son."

And as Lucien watched her, his eyes unwavering in hopes of catching even the tiniest bit of reaction, he almost nearly cried in joy when he spied her lips twitching at the corners.

"Look, I can do nothing about that. I’m not the one you should be complaining to. Maybe try your mother?"

It took Lucien a moment to comprehend those words, for he was too busy staring at her lips that still retained that slight tilt. And when he did, an unexpected laugh burst out of him. Once he finally got himself under control, he met her surprised eyes, and she blinked at him, as if him laughing was something that had not even crossed her mind.

"My, you’re funny." He grinned, shaking his head. "Are you by any chance engaged?"

She still watched him as she shook her head. "No. They usually decide they’re way too good for an uncultured lady like myself."

He raised a brow. "Well, as much as I want to give my condolences, I simply cannot say I’m sad for you, considering they have just made me courting you easier."

For the first time, Y/n’s composure faltered. "What?"

He offered her a lazy grin as he extended his hand to her, and after a moment of consideration, she placed hers in it. "I would like to court you. If that’s okay with you, I will like to talk to your father right away."

She searched his eyes, then dipped her head in the barest of nods. Lucien smiled, brushing his lips against her knuckles before he straightened.

"Then let’s go find your father, my lady."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @lady-of-tearshed @starsinyourseyes

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady

@lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @garden-of-runar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat @artists-ally @milswrites @kingdomofstarrynights

@berryzxx @buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy

@mellowmusings

Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @tele86

[sherewrytes]

Ex boyfriend Eren

Eren hated how you two broke up. His life wasn't put together as it was when you guys met. He knew from the start you were gonna be his wife some day. He suddenly couldn't stand how his life looked anymore. You showed him what true love felt like but also true heart break

"I'm not doing this anymore Eren lose my number"

He thought this was like your usual disagreements, he thought you would reach back out and you would both talk and fix things. He saw 1 day pass then 3 not a single message. He held on to his pride, his ego not realizing you were gone. He texted you a simple Good night. he was left on read.

He found himself replaying the last conversation (argument) you had with you. He could hear the words he said "You don't believe in me, so you can't do this for me yn. I said I'll pay it back. Im organising shit so I can be stable and you don't gotta worry about shit"

Thinking back he should have handled it better, understanding that it was a sore spot to ask you take on that burden even though he knew in his heart he would pull through and not leave you with the burden of paying that shit back for him. He's not that kinda man. You know it and he does to.

He understood that men fucked you over,played you damn he even kinew your dad aint shit. He wanted you to trust him but he lashed out now you're gone.

You dumped his christmas gifts on his front porch. He saw the watch he wanted along with the chain he wanted. It made him feel sick. Eren found himself smoking again, trying to numb the pain he caused. You didn't even say no, you said we will talk more when the time comes, but he kept pushing you on it. The last voice note he sent was him saying

"I told you I'll have everything covered when the time comes. You're comparing me to people from your past. Im not that kinda guy yn. You don't believe in me, I know you don't, I will do it on my own"

He saw when you responded, he ignored it, he saw when you deleted the voice note completely and he hasn't heard from you other than ending things.

He hated having regrets in his life. You did soo much for him. more than anyone but all he saw was himself in that moment and it cost him everything.

Eren then said to himself. maybe another smoke might numb the pain.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, MUST BE FUNNY IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD. ( HOTD X READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Stagehand! Reader prompt : Aegon falls in love with the stagehand of a jazz club. word count: 1, 000+ words

Aegon had a silver spoon up his ass from birth. He got the best cars, the best drugs, the best clothing, the best food. He didn't understand that not everyone had trust funds or billions in their bank account. He never knew struggle, nor would be thanks to his family name. He was a Targaryen, a god amongst the 'common folk'. But, in the small jazz club on the edge of Flea Bottom, he was just another man.

The bartender's didn't care about him, forcing him to pay full price for drinks. The dancers, more than once, backhanded slapped him for trying to catch a feel. All because of you, the stagehand, and brains behind the club. You preferred the shadows, keeping things smooth behind the scenes, saving you from embarrassment should you fail in public. You keep your co-worker's safe, and they did the same for you.

It was honorable. He could not fault you for ordering them to stand up for themselves. Even in the more sinful way of life, they still deserved basic respect. It also didn't help that you looked stunning when cursing him out. The way your eyes hardened. The way you would rip him apart with words. The color insults.

'The cumshot his Mother should have swallowed..'

'The inbred brat..'

'The depressing little wet rat..'

'The guy named Egg'

There was something about you. He didn't know what exactly. It could been the way you cussed him out. Or it could have been the way your eyes light up when you controlled the jazz club. But, there was a part of you that made him want to kick his feet up and twirl his hair like a giddy school girl.

Letting out a tipsy giggle as you snatch the glass of whiskey out of his hand, he leans against the bar table, a dopey grin on his face. He was not even close to being drunk, he’d barely even taken a sip of his whiskey. But, the look on your face was enough to make him feel drunk. You were so pretty. Your eyebrows furrowed, nose softly scrunched up, teeth gritted together, cheeks a flushed pink from anger.  Resting his chin on the palm of his hand, you were so pretty like this, all red faced and eyes full of hatred. He’d twirl his hair if it was long enough. Leaning a little closer on the bar table, he was practically standing on his tippy toes, eager to be close to you. 

“You come into my club, drunk, and think you can demand more to drink? There is no way that I am going to allow you to put my club at risk.” You snap back, shoving a water bottle into his hand. 

“You’re really pretty. Did you know that?” He giggles, “You’d even be prettier if you were to wear something designer, like some Chanel or some Vivienne Westwood. You should let me buy you some, sometime.”

“You're drunk.”  You scoff, shaking your head. 

“Pff! I am not drunk, well, drunk enough to not recognize that you're pretty when you're cursing me out. You’re, like, really pretty when you do it. But, I do think you’d be prettier if you did in something vintage.” He rambles on, the dopey grin on his face growing. 

“You’re drunk.” You state bluntly, rolling your eyes. 

"Again, with assuming that I am drunk."

Sitting back in his seat, he watches you pour out his whiskey into the sink, filling the cup with water. Unable to resist, he rolls his eyes hard a the sight of your routine. This happened almost every time, like clock work. He'd make a ass of himself, you'd assume he was drunk, pour out his drink and serve him water. It was oddly comforting. You cared, or at least it felt like you had cared for him. Even though a tiny part of him knew that you only cared for your club and the lawsuit that could happen. Still, he choose to believe that you cared for him.

"Let me..Let me take you out, just one date? We don't even need to kiss or hold hands." He attempts to negotiate, "I'll take you to the movies we can watch a nice film and just talk."

"I do not think that this is in your vocabulary." You scoff, placing the glass in front of him.

"And you know my vocabulary, now?" He scoffs back, mimicking your face playfully.

"I know people like you, your not that special or hard to read." You argues, "You pretend to be perfect just to get me to let you in my bed."

"One movie, that's it. No funny business."

"I do not like movies." You shake your head, making him scowl.

"Then we can go to the park and talk, there's a farmer's market." He tries again, "Get something to eat."

Watching you shake your head with a bitter chuckle, he cracks a smile, fingers drumming against the bar top. You may have been mocking him. Or maybe he was just high off the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne that was thick in the club. But, just for a moment it all felt real. Like you cared, like you would consider it and accept.

"You're not giving up, are you?" You ask, lifting your gaze up to him.

"I will, if you ask me too."

"And..And if I want you to take me on a million dollar shopping spree?" You ask, the curiosity in your voice clear.

"I'd take you on a ten million one." He states without hesitation.

Watching you chew on your bottom lip, he waits, not daring to say another thing. He'd fear that if he say anything else it would made you rethink everything. That you'd call for security. Drumming his fingers on the bar top, you roll your eyes hard, making his heart sink. Cowering in his seat, he loose his confidence, his shoulders shagging. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tries to shrug it off, scoffing. He didn't care? Why would he? It wasn't that big of a deal.

"I get off in an hour, stay and wait or don't." You mumble walking away, "I don't care."

---

[ruyakasunshine]

My humble suggestions to make F1 more interesting

In the light of the recent rumors about the FIA trying to manipulate the races in order to get more ratings, here are my totally awesome suggestions to make the races more interesting for the viewers.

obligatory disclaimer : those are jokes.

1. Add the Mario Kart blue shell

With the blue shell, you wouldn't have to worry about a race being uninteresting because one of teams has built a rocketship! Now you might be wondering how that would be doable, because how do you get an actual blue shell to only hit one driver? To that I answer, "sweetheart, give me your hand, and let me enlighten you with this name : Kevin Magnussen". Our dear K-mag won't be on the grid next year, and since we'll all miss him dearly, I think we should give him a blue kart and tell him to take out the race leader. He would be released once during the race, in a very random moment (that would be decided through 'google, give me a random number between 1 and 67') and the moment he is out a loud radio voice should announce "WE HAVE UNLEASHED THE MAGNUSSEN" in order to stress everyone out.

2. Add Horns

I know I'm not the only who has thought of this, because the CarCar beef would have been so much funnier if Oscar was allowed to just hit the horn at Carlos. Or the other way around, considering Carlos is a Mediterranean.

I believe that the one who'd abuse this the most would be Fernando, who, if he were to be passed by another driver, would push the button hard enough to spook them and gain his position back. We'd get him to win a race again with this, think about it!

Also, as an exception, Yuki's horn should be customed so that when it is pushed, it doesn't make a "beep" but a loud "FUCK" sound. He should be the only one allowed to do this.

3. Let them hear each other

I think they should just be all allowed to communicate together during the race, the way they do it with their engineers.

Now do I think it's doable? Probably not. Do I think that would be productive? Absolutely not. Do I believe the FIA would decide to remove this option 3 laps into a race? Totally.

But the entertainment value would be so high, because I refuse to believe anyone who says they wouldn't want to hear the Checo-Liam beef in live. Also, I think Carlos should have heard Oscar say "typical Carlos" as he said it. Now that would be fun.

No more team orders, if a driver wants to swap position with his teammate, he has to convince him with everyone being able to hear them.

I also believe that Charles and Max should be given this option anyway, since Max has decided to talk to Charles alone in his own car.

4. Settle the penalties through fistfights

I've seen people talk about how it is problematic to have different stewards at every race, because it makes the decisions taken incoherent. George believes permanent stewards would solve the issue. I believe that when two drivers collide, they should be allowed to fistfight in front of the arena, and the loser gets the penalty. That would especially funny in Vegas, with Bruce Buffer as the commentator.

Also, an exception would be made for one specific situation: if Lewis and Fernando collide, they have to hug, and the first one to let go looses and gets the penalty.

5. The team who gets tenth position in the constructors should get sold to One Direction

I have no arguments other than the fact that the team could use the money anyway, since they won't get much from the constructors.

6. Make the read fanfics for each penalty point they get

Remember this post where I suggested that Haas should have made read K-mag self-insert fanfics for every point he gets on his licence? Well I've changed my mind, I think every driver should have the chance to do it, in public, if they want to get out of a penalty. The higher the penalty is, the cringier the fic gets.

7. Find a solution to the lestappen followgate

Everyone and their mothers has been asking for one thing and one thing only : a Lestappen title fight. I think Charles could use some motiviation, so here is my humble suggestion : tell him that if he wins, Max has to follow him on Instagram. If he loses, it's the other way around. Believe me, this diva couldn't take it and would tranform whatever atrocity-car Ferrari gives him into a rocket. He's done it before for the sake of winning, believe me he'll do it again to get Max to follow him.

Thank me later.

[pixie05love]

Look at this panel of Ego from chapter 8

Now look at Barou's shirt number. He has a 10 but...

Reading it from right to left is 01! Just like in Ego's panel!! (Keep this in mind while reading now, please)

Now, for context, in chapter 7, team X (Barous team) had to play against team Z (Isagi's team), a match that Ego called as "The battle to rebuild football from zero".

Barou's and Isagi's team were a complete mess because they all wanted to score, which made them all start stealing the ball from their own teammates.

This messy state stops the moment Barou scores, turning the score from 0 to 1, rebuilding his team order, and taking control over the game.

Barou was the "1" of team X. Barou was the cornerstone of the team around which they'd developed their strategies to win against Isagi.

*

(Doesn't sound familiar? Kaiser has a 10 on his uniform, and BM had him as his cornerstone too. Noa practically trained them while having Kaiser in mind as the focal point of their strategies to scores goals 0.0)

Now, after that, Bachira and Isagi decide that if their going to lose (which happened at the end), they must at least score one goal. Isagi was going to be the one to score until Kunigami asked Isagi for the ball, and Isagi passed it to him, letting him have the opportunity to score instead.

Now let's take a look at Kunigami's dorsal number!

It's a 9! He scored a goal so... 9+1=10!

10! just like Barou's dorsal number! and remember the first panel I showed of Ego and the one of Barou! Read 10 from right to left -> 01. Kunigami became the "1" of team Z turning when he turned the score from 0 to 1!

Now... why is this "becoming the 1" so relevant in these chapters? Let's look at chap.6 title:

"1 = Individual"

In other official translations, like the Spanish one, instead of individual they translated it to "individuality" and I find it more correct than individual. Although both could work depending on the context so I'll use both.

(If anybody has the Japanese translation, please tell me or correct me. I don't know how to find them :'D)

Back to the meaning of the "1", if the title of chap.6 is stating a fact in Blue Lock's world (that 1 = individual/individuality) then characters that have a 10 as their dorsal number could mean or represent that those characters are the embodiment of individuality / their own individual.

I believe this is true because Isagi's lesson in these chapters was to be his own individual, to reject that initial idea he had of always passing the ball to his teammates instead of being him the one to score. To "embrace" his individual desire of scoring a goal and "have his moment."

Barou tells him that in his own way and Isagi also notices that he hadn't changed that habit yet:

The fact that Barou was the one who told him this was no coincidence!!

He's the "1" of the team, the cornerstone. The only footballer that embodies his own individual and this individuality is one of a king. His own teammates recognise him as such.

Isagi himself says that Barou doesn't start from zero like the rest. He's straight up the 1!

* (Look at the panels above. The ones with a red asterisk on top. In those panels, Isagi says that Barou was the "1" right away. Tumblr image limit doesn't let me put more images, sorry😔)

Now... What I'm trying to prove with all this is 2 things about the meaning of the number on their dorsals:

the number 10 has something to do with the concepts of individuality / individual (1 = individual / individuality). It could mean the character embodies his own concept of individuality or has a clear idea of themselves as an individual, like Barou in these first chapters* seeing himself as "The King".

*he later on gets his ideals crushed by Isagi but that doesn't take away the fact that he had a clear perception of his individuality before so i think the point still stands.

the number 9 could represent a character who's potentially going to develop a sense of individuality or that they're evolving their previous idea of individuality. Like I showed before with Kunigami, who had a 9 in his dorsal, and after scoring, he turned the 0 into a 1 for the team, making him become the "1" *

*it wasn't as relevant to the plot or for Kunigami's character because they lost the match but I think, and if my point is right, the author still gave him the opportunity to score for 2 possible reasons:

to establish this dynamic of individuality and on the process to achieve individuality and

as a trigger for Isagi's seach for his own individuality.*

My gosh, how many times have I written "individual" and "individuality" already😭

* BTW, I think Isagi is still struggling with this thing of finding his individual self on the field despite having grown a lot from chap.1 to current chapters, and I think chap.281 proves this:

* The difference now is that he's now competing against the best of the best players what I think is a correct path for him since he's been thinking that he's one of them for a long time now... and that's definitely not the case. He still needs a lot to learn (this gives me hopes because the author might give his character more depth, but maybe I'm delusional).

Now, back to what i was saying. To prove my point properly I'd have to look for every relevant character on the manga that has these numbers on their dorsals and argue how they are depictions of this dynamic (I could do it in multiple parts while I'm now rereading the manga but I'd take me time since I've got a long way until I reach current chapters.)

Also❕️

I mainly wrote this because I feel like it works with Kaiser and Noa's dynamic, or it could be related somehow (I'll make it relate, idc, this has gotten longer than i thought)

The reason I believe this it's because of these panels of them:

Noa has the number 9

Kaiser has the number 10

Noa states that he's constantly evolving, that the title of the best was not something he was looking forward to. This puts Noa in a constant state of potentially achieving a new sense of individuality... Like he's constantly creating and destroying every new individual he reaches.

The thing with Noa is that he does not care about him being perceived by the rest as an specific "individual", he doesn'tcare about titles.

The world gave him the title of Number 1 (of the "1" I've been yapping about this whole time) but he doesn't recognise it. He actually believes that the real threat is MBappe- Loki (AND LOKI DOES HAVE THE NUMBER 10 ON HIS DORSAL!!1!1!1)

Now my glorious blue eyed king Kaiser has always been the "1" of BM (and of my heart) but it was because of Noa's plan.

Now Kaiser has rejected Noa's plan, creating his new story, hence, creating his own individual / acknowledging his own individuality. Kaiser is turning the 0 to a 1, his "zero self" into a goal (however it was blocked by Loki, another individual just like Kaiser. They basically clash because they're both the "1" of their respective teams).

If I'm right, this could possibly mean that if BM wins this match, it will due to Kaiser's goal, making him be the "1" of his team and proving, through soccer to Noa, that he is his own individual.

.

.

.

Now, I think I'll leave it here because this is already long and I don't want it to be longer (I've also reached the image limit so I can't properly prove my points if I don't show the source of them, i feel like I'm lying lol)

This post was inspired by @mvrdermeharder (Hiiii, i hope im not bothering you by @ you here!) posts about the dorsal's numbers. I liked them lot so go check them too please! :)

❕️This post is only my take on this topic since I also think they have meaning, so this was just my interpretation❕️

If anyone has read this until the end let me just tell you that ily and let's be mutuals if we aren't yet🫶

Also @lorenzobbg you wanted me to @ so HELLOO I hope you enjoy this silly analysis if you read it<33

[wonuhui]

i guess it’s a little late for this but i have to say it anyway. not voting was never an option.

yes, the biden admin were a bunch of genocidal fucking maniacs, and kamala harris was a part of that administration.

but you are fooling yourself if you believe trump would be a "friend" to gaza or its citizens. his past policies and actions proudly tell us the story of why he’s a terrible fit if your concern is actually support for palestinian rights or humanitarian aid.

1. pro-israel bias: trump’s track record in the middle east is all about heavily favoring israel. he recognized jerusalem as israel’s capital, moved the u.s. embassy there, and stopped u.s. support for palestinian authorities when they opposed this move. he didn’t stop at leaders; he had no issue making life difficult for ordinary palestinians, as his administration also slashed aid to critical areas like healthcare and education. source

2. proposed “deal of the century”: the trump admin’s idea of a “peace” plan was, well, not actually a peace plan at all if you were palestinian. it offered palestinians limited autonomy and what could only be referred to as bribes, while allowing israel to colonize more of the west bank. this plan was entirely about satisfying israeli interests while refusing to address palestinian rights and autonomy. essentially, his idea was for palestinians settle for limited sovereignty in a state under israeli control… in exchange for money. source

3. cutting humanitarian aid to gaza: under trump, there were major cuts in humanitarian aid that massively affected life in gaza. basic needs like medical supplies, food, and education took a major hit. gaza’s already vulnerable communities saw conditions worsen because of these cuts, which came quickly after the opposition of palestinian authorities regarding his delegating jerusalem as the israeli capital. source

4. racist and anti-arab remarks: we all know trump has a long history of racist, anti-arab statements that add to why he’s probably not the person you think he will be for arab or palestinian causes. he has proposed enacting a muslim ban on multiple occasions, and actually attempted to put an executive order in place banning people from muslim majority countries from entering the question at one point. source

i could go on and on, but all in all, trump's past policies and proudly anti arab rhetoric lean overwhelmingly toward the fact that he has and would continue to support israel and blatantly disregard palestinian rights. he is not likely to change his approach.

let’s talk about what the decision not vote and to allow trump to win by default really means for marginalized communities. yes, there’s justified anger with the current administration’s actions regarding gaza. but again, trump, with his track record and policy history, isn’t the better choice for president. here’s why.

abortion rights: in his first term, trump appointed three conservative supreme court justices, which have direct correlation to the overturning of roe v. wade, which put abortion rights back in the hands of states. for millions of women, afab people, and people in need of reproductive care, this has put up huge barriers to essential health services. in some cases, traveling out of state for an abortion is the only option and yet, is often criminalized. source

lgbtq+ protections: trump’s policies put lgbtq+ rights at serious risk. he previously pushed for policies that limited protections for transgender people, from military service bans to “religious freedom” laws that made discrimination legal. some extreme and conservative justices are even willing to revisit obergefell v. hodges, which legalized same-sex marriage. i would strongly encourage familiarizing yourself with project 2025. source 1 // source 2 // source 3

environmental impact: trump’s environmental policy focused on industry over climate. he withdrew the u.s. from the paris agreement— and would do it again! he changed emissions standards and environmental rules, and has repeatedly brushed climate change off as a mere hoax. source 1 // source 2

there is undoubtedly blood on kamala harris’ hands. but do not fool yourself into thinking that donald trump will lift a finger to help gaza when he doesn’t even cate about the rights of minority americans. if either party will make an effort to change things in gaza, it’s harris, even if the effort is fucking half assed.

not voting is a privilege and it’s one we don’t really have if we’re thinking about the communities directly impacted by these policies. this election isn’t about being fucking happy. you can pick the lesser of the two evils and be unhappy with it. you can be pissed that we have to settle for an awful, genocidal person, but this isn’t the time to make your point because all it’s doing is harming people, and there is clearly a less evil side. this is about preventing harm, safeguarding rights, and ensuring vulnerable groups aren’t left defenseless against harmful policies.

[aricarianis]

Mask and Mirror | AO3 Simon "Ghost" Riley / Female Character Rape/Non-con, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Predator/Prey, Stalking, Violence, Aggression, Choking.

THIS IS A HORROR STORY. Chapter 1: The Stranger In The Shadows Estimated reading time: 19 minutes.

There are only two rules on Halloween: have fun, and watch out for the freaks.

When an unassuming girl tries to lose the masked stranger stalking her on Halloween night, a spine-chilling game of cat and mouse begins. Each encounter grows more dangerous and intimate, blurring the lines between predator and prey. As tension and terror build, it’s only a matter of time before one of them is forced to surrender—if they make it out at all.

The last autumn breeze brushed past a face that dared to be uncovered on All Hallow’s Eve.

It was cold enough to signal the onset of the darkest season, but not quite enough to force girls into warm clothing. Halloween was the one night where inhibitions faded and impulses ruled. For her, it was also the last chance to have some fun—pull a trick, take home a treat.

Confined in the soft cage of her mermaid costume, she made her best effort to walk quickly, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Partygoers brushed past in waves of theatrical ensembles. In the flashing lights and dark street corners, it was too easy to lose sight of someone. Which pair of wings or which set of bunny ears belongs to whom is anyone’s guess.

She, on the other hand, was hard to lose sight of. Being a mermaid for Halloween was hardly a groundbreaking idea, but the looks of disgust directed at her spoke for themselves. Most mermaids weren’t pallid, perpetually damp and slimy. Their costumes weren’t covered in a mucuous dark liquid that spread to their skin like a filthy sea rash. Their hair wasn’t tangled like seaweed, with nails as sharp as broken shells.

If philosophers who believe humans are inherently bad are correct, and goodness is just a layer people wear each day, then stripping that layer away should keep others at bay. No one should want to come close to something that looks deliberately sickly and unnerving.

No one but the man that kept trailing her, ignoring the warning signs.

Some might argue that being chased by a freak is part of the Halloween experience. After all, it’s the night when masks allow people to wear their ugliness openly, when the veil between real and imaginary gets a little too thin. Good people feel free to be a little bad, and bad people feel free to make the night of horrors live up to its name.

There’s a strange type of comfort about being at a Halloween parade, with celebrations and bonfires that have existed long before our time. The fake blood, the rusty houses, the dirty streets; air heavy with possibility. Any shoulder bumped against could open a door to the unknown. The music—too loud to let screams through. The people—too drunk to perceive danger before it’s too late. Anyone running past could be having fun or could be in genuine danger. Nothing seems safe, and that liminal space of perception, that limbo between bliss and horror that permeates every corner of Halloween night, is what keeps us coming back to celebrate death—as a reminder we’re alive.

Experiencing that limbo is Halloween’s ultimate allure. But sometimes the fantasy breaks, the veil lifts, and you realize that the danger isn’t imaginary.

The burn she felt in her legs as she tried to lose him in the crowd was real enough.

He stayed close despite the ever growing mob.

She grabbed her phone to call her friends once again. It seemed futile with all the noise, yet she tried. After a few minutes, a familiar voice cut through the buzz and made its way to her.

“Mae!” Her friend’s wings bounced as she waved enthusiastically.

Mae pushed through the crowd to get to her newfound safe haven.

“I told you not to call me that in public.”

“It’s short for mermaid—”

“No, it isn’t.”

“And… it’s just for tonight. It’s not safe to give our real names to strangers, you know that. Tonight, you’re Mae and I’m… Fae.”

Mae gave a light chuckle and nodded in agreement.

“Fake names aren’t much of a safety guarantee, I tell you that,” she said while looking around, but there was no sign of the man. She leaned in, close enough for her words to be just between them.

“I saw him.”

Fae turned to look at Mae, the gleam in her eyes matching the glitter on her lids. “Are you sure? There are a lot of masked people here.”

“I’d recognize that skull mask anywhere.”

A loud smash rang out, and the sharp echo of broken glass traveled the air alongside slurred insults—a brewing brawl. Suddenly, bodies pushed against one another like schooling fish. Mae grabbed onto Fae’s wrist, and as Fae’s eyes trailed up, Mae knew whose hand lay on her stomach. She felt the warmth of a body pressing against her, solid and unyielding; his form swallowing hers completely.

For a second, time stopped. She lifted her head, glancing over her shoulder to meet his eyes—dark as the night sky behind him. Her jaw clenched, anger bubbling up at her own vulnerability. She could’ve sworn she saw a movement, a slight raise of his cheeks behind the mask. Time resumed. A change of position, an unknown push, Fae’s other arm finding hers. Gone.

A man his size shouldn’t be able to vanish so easily.

“We need to get the others! Where’s your phone?  Mine's in Jennifer’s purse.” Fae raised her voice as the agitated horde pushed them to the sidewalk.

“Jennifer doesn’t get a fake name?” The confusion in Mae’s tone turned to heaviness as she searched her purse.

“My creativity only goes so far,” Fae replied. “Come on, give it to me.”

“It’s not here.”

“What do you mean? You just had it.”

“Yeah, I did, but I-I can’t find it. I swear, it was right here, it must’ve…” Mae trailed off, scanning the ground, hoping her phone would somehow be there, though deep down, she already knew it wouldn’t.

Their eyes met. The knowing exchange spoke before they could.

“The girls were at the bar at the end of the street when I left to look for you,” Fae said first, nodding toward the direction. “We can start there.”

“We have to get my phone back.”

“It could be just some creep trying to get your attention—”

“Now he has it.” Mae’s anger simmered back up.

“Or... it could be someone trying to hurt you,” Fae said softly, as if assessing her friend’s next step. “You've never had to deal with one like him before.”

“Well… I’ve always loved first times.”

Mae grabbed Fae’s wrist and led the way, her grip tightening as they squeezed through the last of the crowd toward the bar. The quick steps confined in her costume made her legs burn again—a sensation she now knew all too well, and only because of him.

Costumed folks packed the bar, as the air hung thick with booze and bad decisions. In their corner, Mae stared blankly at the far wall, hardly listening as Fae recounted the story. Something in Fae’s tone—how she spun it like a fairytale rather than the gruesome folk legend it truly was—kept Mae’s anger simmering beneath the surface.

“AGAIN?” Tammie’s disbelief pulled Mae back into the moment. Jennifer signaled for her to keep it down, holding the phone to her ear. Tammie leaned in, repeating more quietly, “Again? How many times now, three?”

“Five,” Mae snapped, her voice tight with frustration. “Son of a bitch has followed me five times in three weeks.”

“Not used to a little attention, huh?” Jennifer smirked, clearly savoring the drama. “I told you to do something about it on the third time.”

Mae rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think it’d go this far, Jen. The guy just seemed like a random creep, not a—”

“Stalker?” Tammie finished, crossing her arms. Her usual easygoing demeanor shifted to one of concern.

Silence settled around them, despite the rowdy bar.

“Nothing?” Tammie asked Jennifer, signaling toward the phone.

Jennifer shook her head, the phone still glued to her ear.

“It’s not too late to let it go, babe,” Fae’s soft tone came back as she caressed Mae’s arm. “You’re the last person to go into things without a plan.”

Mae clenched her jaw. “You know damn well he can’t keep that phone—“

“Hello?” Jennifer blurted, eyes wide. “Can you hear me?”

The girls all turned to her, holding their breaths expectantly. Jennifer furrowed her brows as she turned to look at Mae, sharing a glance of mutual confusion before passing the phone to her.

“Hello?” Mae’s voice grew tense, eyes narrowing. “Yes, yes I understand—”

The girls scanned Mae’s face for some hint of explanation, but got nothing. They couldn’t find reassurance in each others’ worried expressions either.

“Why are you…” Her expression shifted from disbelief to irritation. “I understand… Simon.”

Mae handed the phone back, feeling discomfort permeate her body, and watching the girls’ faces contort with anger as they reacted to what she’d just heard.

The Haunted House. Fifteen minutes. Alone.

Despite their protests, the girls reluctantly agreed to let Mae go. It was a public space, after all, and he’d never tried anything dangerous while in a crowd. Maybe it’d be a simple exchange, a creepy way to ask for her number. But what were the odds?

Something weird happens once, it’s an accident. Twice, a coincidence. Three times, a pattern. By the fifth time, it’s hard not to think of it as a threat.

Simon didn’t mind to be seen as a threat; he’d learned early that his quiet intensity threw people off. The way he scanned the most unassuming places, how his every step was measured, balanced; movements so controlled they felt artistic—a dancer gliding across a shadowed ballroom.

Big guys like him were supposed to soften the edges, to show their faces, smile, make themselves smaller. But that wasn’t his training. That wasn’t who he was. Each time he chose not to wear the layers people expected, it was as if they could smell the blood on him, no matter how long it had been washed off. He’d made a living off of realizing his threats, and he was one of the best.

Of course, his nature became a hindrance when he craved human contact, which is why dating was off the table. He fulfilled his desires on other bodies, but never looked for love in them. Love is the most volatile element in any situation, and to be as good as him, you have to give up anything uncertain. In his line of work, predictability is the key between life and death.

He spent most of his free time roaming around the towns his team was stationed at, not only scanning places but people. How they moved, how they talked. The joyful screams of kids when their fathers picked them up. The wrinkles deepening on old ladies’ faces as their husbands repeated the same old stories. How deep a lass bit into the caramel apple she shared with her friend. The way her lips moved and gleamed. How the wind carried the earthy aroma of the forest, the sweet scent of the treat, and her. How she strangely caught his gaze and stared back, longer than anyone would, waving slowly as her sharp nails cut through the air.

There was something off about her, something under the surface. Like touching a wall warmed by the day's sun, even though night has fallen. Or standing outside a seemingly calm room, only to hear faint screaming as a prisoner denies information. Things you’d only catch if you’re watching closely. Attention you only pay to what you’re familiar with.

He trailed her for the first time after she went back for a second caramel apple. The second time was at the local mini-market, her cart stocked with an expensive brand of wine. The third time, he saw her loading luggage into the boot of her car at two in the morning. The fourth was at a restaurant, where she laughed with a group of men, and he sent a bottle of that same wine to her table. The fifth time, he stepped in between her and a street brawl, adrenaline rushing through his veins like a long-lost pulse. His grip on her wasn’t protective; it was a taste of control.

He stared at her phone, patiently counting down the fifteen minutes. Strange how her entire world was just a numerical combination away. Each time the screen lit up with the names of other men, something in him twisted tight. None of them knew her like he did. Did they see how the light made her caramel-stained lips glisten? Taste the remnants of expensive wine lingering on her tongue? Feel the sting of her sharp nails as they left marks that only he could reciprocate?

On that first night, he stared into the void, and the void didn’t flinch—it stared harder and waved back. Unbroken. Defiant. He can’t afford to crave affection, so he made it his mission to watch her surrender. The quiet command in her eyes fueled the mad man within, and he’d treat her like any opponent: study her, approach her, break her.

The most quiet houses often turn out to be the scariest. They look mundane, traditional—the kind of place where a family would lead a regular life. Yet, that façade can be enough to hide the horror inside. Domestic privacy becomes the foundation for a certain brand evil, one that allows fear to fester like mold. Modest walls turn into breeding grounds for monstrosity. Haunted houses, then, are symbols of honesty, of all the decay and abandonment humans are capable of creating.

There’s not a more honest month than October. As Mae entered the local honesty spot, cobwebs danced to the sounds of wood groaning against wind. Plastic spiders and makeshift ghosts welcomed passersby as the flickering jack-o’-lanterns showed them the way. The man inside might as well be another haunted attraction.

The draped black cloth on the walls served as a backdrop for the fake fog swirling at ankle height, forcing Mae to watch her every step. She carefully navigated each room, searching for the skull mask she now knew too well, and the man behind it. The loud whirrs of animatronic witches and the sudden clatter of popping skeletons set her nerves on edge, as if warning her about the last room in the upstairs hallway.

The sign on the door made it clear—that place wasn’t part of the attraction. It was a makeshift storage room for personal belongings, a reminder that the house wasn’t haunted for eleven months of the year. As she peeked inside, her gaze swept across the room until she made out his form. He was staring at a portrait cramped on top of a dresser, next to other family items. A man, a woman, two happy girls and a dog. Normal, certain—an unusual type of predictability for him. He seemed at ease, peaceful. For a moment, his imposing frame and odd behavior seemed almost misunderstood. A view shaped by a pessimism she knew too well.

That feeling lasted until he looked over his shoulder and met her eyes. The way the light seemed to retreat from his gaze as it bore into her soul meant, this time, she was right to assume the worst.

“Give it back.” She stood on the doorway, palm open in demand.

He remained in place as if he were part of the furniture.

“Look,” her sharp gaze signaling an anger that never went away “I don’t know who you are or what you want. If you’re just some weirdo freak who doesn’t know how to ask a girl out, fine.”

She gave him a split second to react, to show that she had read him right. He was stone.

“But if you’re here because you think you can intimidate me—”

His arm shot out, slamming the door behind her. Right hand digging into her jaw; the left tangled in her hair. Her skull met the door with a sharp crack, and the room spun in the echo of her interrupted words. Yet the weight of his body wasn’t enough to crush her defiance.

“—means you haven’t learned anything from all the stalking.” Her voice barely cut through the ringing in her ears. Pain seared through her head, but she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to hold his gaze.

His hot breath cut through the cold air in shallow bursts—not from exertion, but from something raw and primal: rage fused with obsession and desire. He tightened the grip on her hair as his right hand slid to her throat, squeezing just enough to make it clear she was not in charge. Her eyes widened, a short gasp escaping her lips, and he took her parted mouth as an invitation to close in, their lips brushing against the rough texture of the mask.

“I learned that this,” he spoke into her mouth, his grip tightening around her throat, “is what you needed. You needed someone to control your disobedience.”

Mae furrowed her eyebrows in complete confusion. The weight of Simon’s words twisted something in her stomach, making each exhale heavier than the inhale that preceded it. Nausea creeped in and she felt a wave of tingles on her nose—a sign that his twisted reasoning was taking root.

As the first tears welled in her eyes, he let out an amused chuckle and released her throat. The sudden rush of air into her lungs stung, and she gasped sharply, a sound that turned into an unsteady wail as she noticed his gaze dropping lower. A chill surged through her before she even registered his free, rock hard member pressing against her stomach. It was as if the room itself contracted around her, suffocating with its silence. The veil had lifted—this horror was real.

Her body jerked reflexively, muscles going taut as a wire. Simon’s free hand moved down her skirt, fingers searching for her entrance with a methodical, invasive precision that made her skin crawl. Jackpot. He stroked over her folds, rubbing rough circles on her clit to get her body to react as it would if she were a willing player in this scenario. Her mind raced in an attempt to pinpoint what she could have done to deserve this. But she knew better. This wasn’t her fault, even if the terror whispered otherwise. This was what happened when you brushed too close to people like Simon—quiet beasts that reeked of blood.

“S-Stop, please, Simon, I—“

“Are so wet f’me,” a smug tone on his voice. “Gonna say you don’t want this, luv? Cunt dripping all over my hand and you’re gonna lie?”

Even overwhelmed, Mae’s mind searched for options. She was the last person to go into things without a plan. The first step was to slow down her breath—hard to do when Simon was already using her wetness to bully his thick digits into her; each stroke drawing a hum of approval from him. He rested his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent as if to answer one of the many questions he had about her. His hot breath, the weight of his body, his rough movements—all filled her senses. Yet she had to find ways to ground herself in the bleak present, to craft the perfect opportunity for an escape.

Mae shifted slightly, feeling the solid surface of the door pressing into her back. The faint steps of the last visitors leaving the house echoed from somewhere distant, signaling that they were alone. She closed her eyes briefly, recalling the layout of the house from her earlier tour. If she timed it right, there was still a chance.

Drawing a breath, she softened her expression, letting her hands move to Simon’s hips. His eyes lit up with a twisted satisfaction as she began to trace her fingers around his cock. “See?” he murmured, his voice low and triumphant. “Just needed some obedience fucked into you.”

But the look in her eyes was anything but submissive. In a sudden, decisive move, Mae clamped her teeth down on the exposed skin of his neck while her nails—sharp as broken shells—raked into his balls. Simon's eyes widened in shock, his grip faltering just enough for her to push her full weight against him. She managed to break the distance between them, the momentum sending him stumbling backward.

The reprieve was brief. He swung back with a brutal slap that cracked like thunder against her face, the force disorienting her and leaving a burning trail of pain that echoed through her skull. She staggered, vision blurring and darkness creeping at the edges, but she didn't let the agony stop her. Mae bolted for the hallway, every muscle straining as she tore through the space and spotted the back door.

Simon’s roar followed, along with the heavy thud of his boots closing in as he wiped the blood dripping from the bite. But she was already out, sprinting toward the woods, the cool night air biting at her skin while an all too familiar burn crept back up her legs.

Trees blurred past in quick flashes, yet Simon’s footsteps were nearly soundless. His breath was steady, pulse in perfect control. The forest was his ballroom, and he moved like a seasoned dancer, leaving no trail behind him despite the thrill of the hunt. Twigs snapped nearby, a deep rustle to his left, a faint crunch to his right. Probably a deer, maybe a bear. To an untrained ear, the woods were brown noise; to him, an orchestra conducting his every step.

The darkness had no effect on him; his trained instincts led the way with ease. He paused, sensing her movements through the undergrowth—chaotic, erratic. Naive girls who think they can escape if they draw a little blood. He knew exactly where she was headed; her scent lingered in his system. He tilted his head to the left, eyes tracking to the right. A footfall right ahead. Jackpot.

Her messy disposition blended seamlessly with the chaos of the woodland. Breathless, disheveled, defeated—a creature in unfamiliar territory. Fish out of water.

She stood a few feet away, slightly hunched in surrender, a stark contrast to her usual proud self. Too easy. A faint prick of unease nudged at the back of Simon’s mind; after all, she had drawn blood the last time he got too close. Still, he pushed forward. He couldn’t have misjudged a simple chase. He was too skilled, too well-trained. One of the best.

He moved patiently over the foliage, cautious as if not to startle a wild animal. She remained still, vulnerable, accepting whatever fate Simon had prepared for her. One step, not too far. Another, closing in. Third step. Loud woosh. Acute pain. A bear trap. Suddenly, a fierce electric sting shot through his limbs, his own body turning against him. A taser. Muscles locked, forcing him into uncontrollable spasms. His back scraped against the rough ground as disorientation set in, making him oblivious to the shadows slipping into his blind spot.

Before he could react, his arms were forced back, wrists bound tightly together. The harsh scratch against his skin warned him of how little time he had before he was fully restrained. He struggled against the bear trap clamping his leg—a painful inconvenience—while the bindings around his wrists constricted further, vertical loops added to prevent any twisting escape. Smart.

Without wasting a moment, they secured his wrists to his waist and loosely bound his elbows, preventing any upward movement even if he managed to wriggle. With his limited upper body strength, finding leverage seemed impossible. The bear trap made it easier for them to restrain his legs, rope wrapping tightly around his lower thighs and knees. To finish the job, they pushed him against a tree, encircling his torso with the final length of rope, fully immobilizing him. As they stood at his feet, admiring their handiwork, a sinking realization settled in—he recognized the three familiar faces. Loyal friends she has.

“Should we get it out?” Jennifer asked, panting lightly as she examined the extent of his leg injury, her expression focused.

“I’m not done with him yet,” Mae retorted, monotone as she bore into his eyes.

“What are you gonna do, babe?” Fae interjected, concern etched across her face, but it wasn’t enough to sway Mae’s resolve.

“Nothing he hasn’t done first.”

Simon watched as the women faded into the forest, leaving him at Mae’s mercy. His uneven breath and racing pulse revealed his disbelief, body heating with the anger of being caught in this situation.

“Good show, lass. Am I bear snack now?” Simon scoffed, his need to regain the upper hand surfacing, even if it was futile.

“Was that your plan for me?”

“Yeah… and I was the bear.”

Mae nudged the trap with her foot, drawing a low grunt from Simon. “You were.”

“You’re a proper nutter, you know that?” His breaths grew shallow and rapid, betraying his frustration.

Mae bent at the waist, lowering herself until her face was just inches away from his. Her gaze steady and unyielding. The void staring back. "Birds of a feather, aren’t we?"

With a swift motion, she tore his mask off and stuffed it into his mouth. Shallow and deep scars littered his face, moonlight glinting over each mark. His nose was crooked, broken one too many times. His eyes—dark, bottomless—widened as he watched her slowly remove her costume, piece by piece. Confusion and dread seeped into him as he struggled to anticipate her next move, to guess what trick she’d pull.

The light traced her form, hugging the curves and lines of her body. Soft yet firm, peaks and valleys of pure poetry that relaxed him at the sight—first time in too long.

She leaned down, straddling his lap, her hands slipping between them as they stared into each other’s eyes. Simon furrowed his brows as he felt a pull on his hips. He dropped his gaze to see his pants halfway down his thighs, his member firmly in her hand. She began to stroke it, slowly, feeling the pull of his skin under her touch. “Is this what you wanted?”

Simon grunted, unintelligible, as the mask suffocated his words, his forehead creased in confusion. His body reacted as if it had disconnected from his mind, unaware that this was not how it was supposed to happen.

“I thought you wanted to control me,” Mae sneered as she picked up speed. “You can’t even control yourself.”

Simon took a deep breath as he felt his cock swell under the friction. He struggled to regain composure, to remind himself who was in charge. This was a game—a game he could easily win if he could keep his impulses in check. Keeping his cool under life-threatening situations was part of his job; this should be no different. He was too skilled, too well-trained. One of the bes—

“Open your eyes,” Mae commanded, and Simon obliged, not even realizing when he had closed them. With practiced ease, she pooled saliva at the back of her throat, letting it gather at the tip of her tongue before she opened her mouth—thick strand glistening in the light before landing on the tip of his cock.

Simon could only respond with deep, muffled groans, his face contorted in rage. This was not how it was supposed to go. Veins bulged along his member, which at this point was fully engaged. Precum leaked as he shook his head in frustration, ashamed at how his body betrayed him, welcoming the assault even as his mind rebelled.

Mae raised herself slightly, adjusting his angry red tip right at her entrance, still wet from the earlier invasion. With a slow, methodical movement, she crouched down, easing his thickness into her cunt—tight and fluttering at the incursion. It was massive, almost impossible, the type of weapon used to bring more harm than peace. She shuddered at the thought of how things might have played out were she still under Simon’s reign, yet she remained impassive. “Control yourself.”

Simon’s brows furrowed in plea as he struggled against the ropes—desperate, confused, guilty. He was overwhelmed at the detachment, at how all the physical sensations were there but his mind couldn’t enjoy it. He just wanted out.

Mae picked up the pace as she squatted on his lap, walls spasming at the forced entrance. She could feel him in her bones, splitting her open, invading even when he was out of control. It wasn’t as comfortable as it could be, but it was worth it for his look of terror alone.

He felt dizzy as she fucked him so hard his back scorched against the tree. His pulse pounded in his ears, her warmth and slick mirroring the heat pooling in places he wished it wouldn’t. Simon squirmed, his eyes pleading with Mae to stop as he teetered on the edge of orgasm.

“Control your fucking self!” Mae shouted, her voice brimming with rage. “This is your fault. This is what you made me do!”

Her hands clamped around his throat, surgical, cutting off just enough airflow to push him toward unconsciousness. To Simon, her intentions seemed far more sinister. He let out a hoarse scream, overwhelmed by a surge of anxiety, shame, and a fear he hadn’t felt in years. Her hips plunged, the familiar burn creeping up on her legs as her cunt choked him—violent thrusts sprinting towards the end, demanding. Shockwave. He twitched and grunted as the climax spread across his body, the impact reverberating through them both. His cum leaked from her pussy as the realization dawned—he had severely underestimated his opponent.

As Mae’s movements slowed, her grip around his throat tightened. She watched as his eyes grew heavy, each blink longer than the last, while a disorienting fog clouded his mind.

“Do you know why people wear masks on Halloween?” Mae asked, her voice as calm as rocks in a seastorm.

Simon squinted in confusion, his body going slack beneath her hold. A tremor rippled through his limbs, marking the last moments of resistance before surrender.

“They believed the line between the world of the living and the dead blurred, and that spirits could walk the earth. They started wearing masks because they thought they could protect themselves from evil by blending in,” she continued, her tone hypnotic. “But, you see, we don’t know what evil looks like.”

His eyes fluttered, unfocused, a final shudder running through him as he hovered at the edge of darkness. The moment hung suspended, enough for Mae’s voice to cut through one last time before he slipped entirely into the void.

“Would you be scared of the boogeyman if he looked like me?”

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

The First Man

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 here it is, also @beef-brisket you can also join in the yandere-ness if you wish, anyways enjoy part 1 ;)

The first thing he was aware of was a beaming bright light. It shined right where in front of him, causing him to squint and cover his eyes. When he opened them again all he could see were two blurry figures, one much bigger than the other. Soon though the blurriness faded, and he then saw the world around him. It was vast and spacious, seemingly going on forever. Everywhere he looked it seemed colors of all kinds, mainly green, covered the Earth. That wasn't even mentioning the things that were walking around so full of, of

"WELCOME TO LIFEMY CREATIONS THE FIRST MAN AND FIRST WOMAN. I AM THE LORD HIMSELF, GOD, YOUR CREATOR"

Startled at the booming voice he turned and gape at the colossal figure of light before him.

"DO NOT ME AFRAID FIRST MAN FOR I MEAN YOU NO HARM."

and the first man believed the voice, which spoke once more, "

"YOU HAVE MANY QUESTIONS I AM SURE BUT I MUST FIRST INTRODUCE YOU TO EACH OTHER"

With a gesturing wave of his hand the first man turned to see a creature just like him. However this creature made him gasp as his eyes went wide, what he saw had to be the most captivating thing he ever saw since he opened his eyes. This creature was much taller than him, not as large as the voice, but still pretty tall. Their hair was so long it reached to their bottom. He just wanted to comb his fingers through it. Their skin was pale like his though with a hinge of a tan to it. It looked so soft that he wanted to touch it. However, their most engrossing feature were most definitely the eyes. They were the same color as their hair with a shade of a type of yellow light. They simply sparkled to him, this creature was simply so, so

"Beautiful"

The voice smiled at his creations first word and said happily

"I AM GLAD THAT YOU THINK SO, FOR THIS WOMAN IS TO BE YOUR MATE"

The first man looked back at the voice

"Mate?"

"YES, SHE IS YOUR MATE IT MEANS THAT SHE IS YOURS TO LOVE, CHERISH, AND PROTECT AS YOU ARE FOR HER TO DO THE SAME"

He explained before moving on

"NOW THEN THERE IS STILL THE MATTER OF PROVIDING YOU WITH PROPER NAMES. FOR YOU TWO SIMPLY CANNOT BE CALLED AND CALL EACH OTHER MAN AND WOMAN. NO, THAT SIMPLY WILL NOT DO. (turns to the man) YOUR NAME SHALL BE LUCIFER FOR IT MEANS LIGHT BRINGER, (turns to the woman) AS FOR YOUR NAME SHALL BE ADA FOR IT MEANS BEAUTIFUL"

The man, now named Lucifer, felt his lips twitch upwards at the fact that he helped name his mate.

"THIS PLACE THE TWO OF YOU STAND BEFORE IS CALLED THE GARDEN OF EDEN. THIS IS TO BE BOTH OF YOURS HOME. YOU MAY DO AS YOU WISH HERE JUST AS YOU MAY EAT FROM ANY OF THE FRUITS THAT HANG FROM THE TREES. HOWEVER, THERE IS ONLY ONE FRUIT THAT I MUST ASK YOU TO NOT ONLY NOT CONSUME BUT STAY AWAY FROM ENTIRELY FOR IF YOU EAT IT, YOU SHALL SURELY PERISH."

The voice said as it pointed over to where a grand tree not too far away stood. Hanging from the branches were the forbidden fruit as it shined a tempting red.

"WITH THAT SUBJECT OUT OF THE WAY WE SHALL NOW DISCUSS YOUR DUTIES. DO NOT WORRY FOR THEY ARE ONLY TWO. YOUR FIRST DUTY IS TO GIVE EVERY LIVING THING IN THIS GARDEN A NAME AS I HAVE GIVEN YOU. YOUR SECOND DUTY IS TO BE FRUITFUL AND MULTIPLY, WHICH BRINGS US TO ANOTHER MATTER. YOU TWO ARE NOT SIMPLY JUST THE FIRST MAN AND WOMAN. LUCIFER YOU ARE THE FIRST ALPHA WHICH MEANS THAT YOUR SEED SHALL SPILL INTO ADA AND HER WOMB SHALL ACCEPT AND SHE WILL THEN CARRY A CHILD."

Lucifer didn't understand why but that statement...excited him.

"NOW I MUST MAKE MY EXIT FOR I AM SURE THE TWO OF YOU WOULD LIKE TO GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER."

In a flash of the light their creator was gone and it was just Lucifer and Ada.

[penny-anna]

hi everyone guess what time it is THATS RIGHT its fic rec time

Slowly but Also Like All at Once by putaposyinyourhair

"Any sign of Knuckles?” He huffs out a soft breath of air, mentally cycling through the answers that are starting to feel almost programmed by this point. Kris, he ain’t coming back. Kris, he’s gone, man. Kris, stop asking me shit I don’t have the answers to, dude. Instead he goes with something a little more sensitive. “Negative.”

AU based on the ending of Rise of the Beasts. tragically not updated for over a year but MUCH to chew on here & i must share this excerpt:

“Look, man, I can explain—” “Noah,” Reek begins again, tentatively— like he’s about to ask something that even he can’t quite believe he’s going to ask. “Did you fuck that car?” Noah damn nearly chokes on his own tongue.

Personal Space by Neon_Honeycomb

“Are you okay?” Cool, smooth metal presses against his face before he can even register Mirage moving, shattering the memory that’s slowly engulfing him until it dissipates entirely. He’s left staring again at the metal beams above, the backdrop of yellow clouds far behind them, and the movement of a single tree branch swaying just within sight. “Only you would have a roof fall on you and then ask if I’m the one that’s okay.” Noah and Mirage get trapped under a pile of rubble together. While waiting for someone to come free them, they get... comfortable.

its ur classic premise <3

lose my mind by Donts

“Do I turn you on, Noah?” Mirage murmurs lowly. Noah sucks in a breath, dropping his hands and opening his eyes, gazing at Mirage’s optics with surprise. Mirage is looking at him with a smug grin, and oh fuck. or 5 times Noah masturbates because of Mirage, and 1 time Mirage helps him out.

ohhh thats the good filth!!

A flickering spark, his unwavering spirit by caelleth

“We were… friends, weren’t we?” The words left his vocals before he could quell them, and Noah considered them before he could regain his wits enough to take them back. “...Yeah. We were friends.” His head turned, and he tore his gaze away from the mech, leaving Mirage to stare at his dust-fettered curls, struggling to find any words in this planet’s limited language that could ever hope to describe the unbearable mix of guilt and yearning and grief and above all that, unyielding hope that bubbled through his chassis. But it seemed no amount of words ever could, Cybertronian or otherwise. “I can see why,” was all he said to the human. (Or, the trials and tribulations of repairing a Cybertronian.)

another AU based on the ending of the movie. ohh this was a great time. the first Mirage POV chapter is a particular highlight.

Manhandled by SadVibez

Mirage picks Noah up to grab something on a shelf. Things quickly turn not so PG-13.

manhandling :)

An Old Mech Worries For A Human by SadVibez

During the fight in Peru, Noah was hurt after being dropped by Scourge. He hasn't told anyone and with Mirage to not fret over him, no one has noticed. Well, almost no one. Optimus notices Noah in pain and the two have a small talk.

a rare non-shippy fic. ohh i love a 'this character should have been injured let's talk about that' fic

Tactile Intimacy by BunnyFair

When Mirage makes an expected engine noise, Noah has to investigate and give his friend a thorough check up. Popping his hood, he soon discovers the world of tactile interfacing.

tactile interfacing for u!!!

human junk by Secretkept (KaiNinjagoo)

After a few nights of Noah sleeping in the garage, Mirage notices something he hasn’t seen before (PENIS)

firstly can i just say, summary of all time, i've been thinking about (PENIS) for weeks. secondly: great series feat. sexless robot Mirage & Noah navigating their relationship. love the realism of this one. great time.

Exposure Therapy by Neon_Honeycomb

“You’re not made of metal. I— I don’t know the limits of what you’re made of. I don’t know how much is safe contact, and when it turns into— when you— when I—” This is the part where Noah is supposed to get it. The part where he’s supposed to understand the depth of what Mirage has just told him, where he realizes the danger he’s in if Mirage so much as simply moves wrong at the wrong moment, the moment where he lets go and never comes near him again. He waits; waits for it all to click into place in that biological processor of his, waits for the moment he pulls his hands back to himself, waits for his face to morph into entirely justified fear. “I could break you, Noah, I could…” He’s not prepared for Noah’s expression to go soft. There's only one way for someone to learn how much strength to use when handling something, and that's through experience.

screaming yelling throwing up wailing sobbing:

Noah doesn’t break. He doesn’t immediately start leaking red, his face doesn’t even pinch like Mirage has seen him do when he gets hurt. And somehow that makes it so much worse when Noah looks up at him, looking just as good as he had a moment ago, completely fine, only for him to say, “Right there. That’s how hard it takes to start hurting.” like it’s no big deal at all.

[spacetimeaccordionfolder]

TLDR: 1: Void and Soulfire and Light and Soulfire interactions? 2: Light does stuff with wills not souls I was wrong. 3: half baked theory about diadem

OKAY FOLKS

So like many of us I am trying to figure out WHAT IS GOING ON currently in Aurora. I mistakenly had this whole theory that the Light Dragon did stuff with souls or free will or a combo of that, but the past weeks have destroyed that theory in my head. I am left scrambling. And then Today's page (2.3.16) got me thinking of one of the things that made that theory for me: How Soulfire and Void interact. And how that same interaction does not happen with Soulfire and the Diadem. And then I went on a research dive. :D

First: Void and Soulfire, Diadem and Soulfire

Let's look at 1.17.33

In a post Red made, explaining the making of this panel, she said, "What really sells this shot is the points of energy where the flame and void interact - the blue-white streaks. I started shaping them very precisely in the wake of the flame to make it clear that they were the result of the two interacting, rather than some intrinsic property of either element alone."

blue white streaks are where soulfire and void interact

not some intrinsic property of either element alone

The Light Dragon is called the Dark Dragon's "equal and opposite" by Theia, and this is presumably a statement held by all paladins. "He can do it, so can she." Interestingly, I think the Void Dragon's only called the Light Dragon his "Other."

(Uh Oh gang I just realized that we might not actually have any reason to believe that anything Void can do Light can do just as well because we could have biased sources but never the less I carry on I spent too much time this afternoon thinking about this)

So because the Light Dragon is Void's presumed equal and opposite, one might expect a similar blast of Light magic to have similar effects.

HOWEVER

(2.3.15 and 2.3.16)

That's not the same effect. That's a white or yellow white light, especially over Dainix's eyes, but there's no blue- white streaks.

(I originally thought there was an X on Dainix's right eye but then realized that was just one of the thorn things and his soul fire and not actually an x)

The closest thing I have seen to the blue-white streak effect was panel 6 of 2.3.15, but arguably that's tears. Which sad.

So we have options here:

A) We haven't seen an equivalent blast like the Void blast in 1.17.33. Perhaps if Champion tries to stab Dainix in Crucible form with one of the swords we will. The Diadem, while painful, is not the same power level as that blast so it does not have the equivalent effect

B) Equal and Opposite, so the effects will also be. I am looking for the wrong signs here. Perhaps the yellow-white is the interaction of Light and Soulfire, taking on one of Void's colors while the interaction of Void and Soulfire took on Light's colors. Perhaps even the effect will be black and purple or yellow for cool factor.

C) hey that looks like the color of Rage on the Catharsis panels

I think B might be the most likely, that or a combo of the three options.

Next: Soul, Will, Mind?

I had incorrectly assumed that, because the blue light effect was made when Void interacted with Soulfire, that souls had something to do with Light. Because the blue light effect is the same color as Light's light. However, the effect is probably part of the transformative properties of Fire, instead of that of Soul, as a few of you put in the notes on that one post I made theorizing about Soulfire and Light. As we know, Light is not soul. [by the way in my archive dig I found a nifty post Red made for common theories in universe on soul energy. Here it is! I will be thinking about it as I do want to make a list of every info we have about soul energy at some point.]

Let's look at the evidence we have:

In 1.7.21, Void says "[the light dragon] awoke the mortals' wills. Mortals given sentience could not be controlled..." We see this event on 0.1.2.

In 2.0.10, the Hornbearer says, "when [the dragon Light possessed] awakens with the Lady's parting gift, it may be persuaded to make a valuable ally." We had previously seen the dragon when Tess fought it.

In 2.3.15, Falst describes the diadem as "like hornets in your head." Dainix is able to talk a bit, but not well.

On 2.3.9, when the Champion activates (sure we'll go with that) the diadem, everyone Stops. We get the no sound effects freeze frame slowmo where you can imagine gasping and that's it.

There is probably more than that, but basically Light does stuff with Mind and Will. She can give sentience, which awakens will, and thinking.

The Diadem "holds" people (2.3.10), and I'm guessing, from Falst's and Dainix's comments, makes it hard to think [hey gang I am suddenly recalling that one kind of elemental corruption makes it hard to make choices? I think? oh boy I don't want to get more elements/primordials mixed up]

One last tid bit! In an ask Last Year some one asked if mind manipulation was possible. Red replied, "not with elemental magic"

So while I now have a whole bunch of questions about how soul energy is different from wills and minds (thank you protestant childhood) those are not relevant here. Light does mind stuff and also can awaken wills. And wills and minds are in the same playing field.

Lastly: Why do their eyes look like that

While staring at 2.3.9 I had a thought.

So uh. This is less coherant than the other two sections. But. Alinua and Dainix are the ones whose full eyes we see. And Dainix is a Crusible who burns with Soulfire. And Alinua's Life's Vessel. And Light said that the Diadem wouldn't hold Void, so it probably won't hold Life (not holding Void could be an equal and opposite thingy but uh Life balances out Void in other ways so??) So I'm wondering if Dainix could possibly burn off the diadem? This is not just based on the folks here, but also because I was thinking that the design of white in their eyes reminded me of how Kendal's starfire would look before it activated? Or how Dainix's eye looked in the fight in chapter 15.

Thank you for reading! I hope you had a great time! One day I will get to my eventual Soul energy list or my "What is Starmetal and how does it work with Souls" list. But not today!

[elizabeaufort]

⸻ Elizabeth could sense her body flinching at the nickname she despises. Her father tricked her? Liz doesn't know if she has known her father since she was born or else, but he does not seem the type that tricks people, or well with her. Fine, he may have tricked her by saying he would do something and do something else, but Liz always caught him on his lies. ⏤ She did not interrupt this… Victim. When the real victim here is herself from having both negligent parents. Neither of them would worth 1 dollar if they're were put to sell in a showcase for charity. ❛ All I'm hearing here is that Papa is the one to blame? And my grandfather despises me and him, without even knowing me? What changed? What made you decide to show off in my life out of the blue after I finally move on with my life? ❜

Liz really wished she could forgive her mother, in the way she forgave her father. But Claude is forgiven to an extent, he knows the damage he caused to his own daughter and things from the past cannot be undone. What Claude do is change the present, and this is the side he is working for to make up for his shit parenting. The younger Aussie feels so confused now, frustrated even. ❛ Y'know I was finally getting into a happy stage in my life, for the first time. ❜ She admitted. Her little family is what made her complete, but now having her mother around, she doesn't know how she feels about it.

❛ So, are you here because you need some help from me? Or because my grandfather whom I never heard about decided he wanted to meet me? ❜ Liz knew that realistically, she had nothing that could offer to her mother. ❛ I know what is like to live off Papa's money. ❜ Oh! She knew. But she also knew what it was like living with money earned from a hard job and being stolen for packs of beer, cigarettes, and drugs. Every time Elizabeth made money, her father stole from her, but that was the phase he was a drug addict. Liz could've left her father behind and moved on in her life, but she always believed he could be better.

Claude is not perfect, but he finally is 'better', if it wasn't for all the efforts and patience Elizabeth had for him. He knows if he fucked up one more time, he will be left behind once and all. Frankly, he likes the life he has now ( and the comfort ). Now, with her mother's presence, it made her worry about her father's sanity. He was so stable, and Stella was his kryptonite. ❛ What is it on your face? ❜ The scar she referred.

──earned it, she scoffed inwardly, for when had Claude earned anything in his life? he was the source of all her misery, the pains she had to endure for years by his side while nearly being forced to raise a child of his that served as a constant reminder of all that she had lost —her daddy would never accept her back with this husband she picked, or this child she gave birth to; he had told her she would make her bed and sleep in it and ever since they moved to New York, Stella found herself wishing, every single night, that she could turn back time, make a different choice —let him leave, while she stay with her family. For she was only a baby herself and what did she know of love and the real hardship of life when she had been nothing but dotted on and spoiled her whole life? showered in luxury and never had to worry about a thing because her daddy and older brother would take care of everything for her.

“Lizzie,” she began, blinking slowly as she drew in a breath. “your father tricked me, I came here for a good life with him, not to suffer for years…” she offered; he should have made a better effort to support his family, especially after he planted his seed in her ( not that she would want to work any mediocre, low-wage job anyway, but having a child was a solid excuse ). “I left because I couldn’t handle it anymore!” she exclaimed, words spoken almost as if it was the obvious answer. “he contempt us both to a life in poverty and I was depressed, Lizzie—” which, in fairness, might not be a blunt lie, but she was for all the wrong reasons, not the ones she would present as the ones; like how she couldn’t handle raising her baby without any money, leaving in deplorable conditions.

“my family cut me off when I married your father,” she added after a moment, laughing a little bitterly. “when my brother reached out and asked me to come back, I planned to bring you with me after a while,” a lie, she hadn’t even thought about it; she show her opportunity and grasped it, held it with all her might so she could get away from this life she hated so much in the States. “…but my father would never allow it, and I couldn’t come back here.”

[reversedumbrella]

you asked for this, mob

[first] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [last]

note: some links were altered in order to present the parts in chronological order