#but it was always 'no you're not oppressed WE'RE oppressed you don't count' and coming from ppl w/ the lesbian flag in their icon or name

[authoratmidnight]

>especially lesbian pride items, which at the time meant using the ugly-as-sin, hard to make stuff with, made by a racist "lipstick pride" flag that was actually just stolen from a joke "cougar pride" flag made by a morning radio show

And then the one got really popular (i don't remember if it was the version w/ the orange stripes or one of the variations made from it) was made by an open ace exclusionist and everyone was just, ok with that apparently. Like, way to just exclude a section of your community guys, can't imagine it's a nice feeling, being an ace lesbian and having to live with your community's flag being one made by someone who thinks part of your identity doesn't *really* count. Yikes.

I literally ended up having to unfollow and block someone cause they just, started down this whole ass aphobic rabbit hole one day? And I would keep seeing these posts right before going to work and it would fuck me up all day cause it would just, leave me upset. And I realized 'hey that's not good' and the content I had followed them for was not worth this.

But like, it sucks.

I don't think younger/newer users fully grasp the shit show that ace discourse was around 2014-17

It was so hostile that, to this day, discussions that begin to derail just enough can make me physically nauseous, some specific mockery trigger crying sessions years later. We lost most accounts with any sort of ace positivity. There was no information, no support, and all this damage was done predominantly by other queer people.

All this to say that you, however you identify yourself, should be engaging with aphobic comments the same way you do any hate. We don't sugarcoat or try to be comprehensive with people who are blatantly racist, homophobic or terfs, so why give it a pass just because it's coming from a queer person? I see how this tolerance goes and it's done enough damage as it is.

[avatarloverfrfr]

Dreamwalker Siblings

Chapter I: Cryo-sleep Masterlist Summary: Y/n and Jake Sully. Siblings, shipped off into the depths of space to explore the mysterious world of Pandora. Warnings: Mentions of death, reader is NOT excited at all, Constant reminder of deceased loved one. Word count: 3,6k

"You cannot ask this of us! Tommy is the scientist not us. He wanted to be shot light years into space, not us. We cannot do it." I shrieked, pleading with my brother for validation, but my cries were met with oppressive silence. His gaze fixed onto our fallen sibling, Tommy, robbed of life right before he went off to do the only thing that put a smile to his face. All sacrificed for the contents of his wallet.

"Your brother represented a significant investment, we'd urge you to accept taking over his contract." The man besides Jake had said, completely disregarding all that I had said. "I'm sure he would hate to have all his hard work go to waste, knowing someone so close to him would be able to continue his legacy." The second man, besides me, added with a curt nod.

Outrage boils within me at the audacity of these men, exploiting the loss of one of us, former triplets, as leverage against us. How dare they use Jake and I with their clear motives of greed, revealing to us that our worth to them is nothing but a budget they refuse to abandon.

"It'll be a fresh start, on a new world. And the pays good, very good." they said staring at Jake and I. Before I could even say something in retaliation. Jake had spoken for the first time that night. "We'll do it." Disbelief swept over me as I locked eyes with him. How could he agree so easily? How could he not see that these men were just using us— he probably could, yet chose to turn a bind eye.

"Perfect, Y/n we will get your Avatar ready, they will mature on the trip there." the men said walking out, leaving me in there with Jake.

"How could you just accept like that Jake. You caved! Just like that? You know they are just playing us, and you still went along with it! Don't you see–" I started, but he interrupted me. "Maybe you don't see it, but I do. We are dirt poor Y/n! Struggling... This cash could change everything. We could finally be able to live." he pleaded, desperate for understanding. "I could afford to use my legs again." he confessed.

While I was sitting there, next to my brother, a big whole blown right in the middle of our lives, I started having these dreams. Dreams that whispered secrets of possibility and untold wonders. Sooner or later though, you always have to wake up.

As I wake up, I glance around and it hits me, I'm in some sort of cryo pod. Flashbacks flood my mind, reminding me of the time before my life had got frozen, five years of my life, gone. The memories of Tommy's death, as if it was yesterday. 'We had to do it, so we could live." I think to myself, trying to find comfort in all of this.

"Rise and shine sleepy head." a doctor had greeted me as I exit the cryo pod I had spent the last five years of my life in. "We're here."

"Exo-packs on! Let's go! Exo packs on! Remember people, you lose that mask, you're unconscious in 20 seconds, and dead in four minutes–" I stopped listening to what the sergeant had to say. Looking around my eyes landing on Jake. We should not be here, this is not our home. But what's the point in dwelling now, there's no turning back. I think to myself while putting on my exo pack, adjusting it so oxygen could freely flow through.

"When that ramp comes down, go directly into the base. Do not stop! Go straight inside wait for my mark!" the sergeant yelled. Standing up I walk over to Jake who was still seated waiting for everyone in front of him to leave the air craft so that he was able to freely able to deploy his wheelchair.

"Let's go special case! Do not make me wait for you Sully's!" he barks. Not bothering to acknowledge him Jake and I walk off the ramp and onto Pandora, our "fresh start." Taking a long look around I spot soldiers, back on earth these guys were heroes, marines fighting for freedom. But out here they were all just a bunch of hired guns, serving the RDA until their last breath.

"You're not in Kansas anymore, you're on Pandora ladies and gentlemen–" the man, Quartrich, continued. Tommy was meant to be listening to this, not Jake and I.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Jake!" a lanky man rushes up to us after the "safety brief." "You're Jake right? Tom's brother." he asked looking down at him to meet his eyes. I just stare at him, does he just not see me here?

"You look just like him." he says eyes finally landing on me. "Sorry– I forgot he had mentioned he had two siblings, Y/n. I'm Norm. Spellman. Went through Avatar training with him." he says leading us into some sort of bio-lab.

As Norm continues briefing us on the bio-lab procedures, my attention drifts, drawn to avatars in three separate cry-chambers. I approach them, circling until I stop at a particular one.

"Looks like him." Jake and I simultaneously say, not once taking our eyes off what our brother could have been.

"No, looks like you. This is your avatar now Jake." Norm reassures him placing a hand on Jakes shoulder before moving to the last tube in the bio-lab.

"And this is your avatar Y/n. She had to get to the lab as soon as possible, since you know–" Norm starts, but I cut in, "–I wasn't meant to be here. Yeah, I'm aware." I finish, stepping closer to my avatar.

She looks so much like me, except for the obvious differences. Blue skin, a queue, and her sheer size. "She's beautiful." I whisper, touching the glass, feeling a soft heartbeat pass between us.

"The idea is that every driver is matched to their own Avatar, so their nervous systems are in tune... Or something. That's why they offered us the gig. It's insanely expensive... Is this right? Do we just say whatever to the video log?" Jake questions turning to Norm and Max.

"And do we have to share the exact same camera to film these things?" I interject, trying to nudge Jake out of the screens view.

"Yeah, you both need to document everything you see, what you feel. Plus, you're twins, who knows if you both are able to feel the same emotions or not. It's all apart of the science." Norm explains, retuning to his work.

"Plus it'll keep you sane for the next six years," Norm adds chuckling.

"Not if I have to sit next to Mr. Jarhead it's not." I remark, rolling my eyes but smiling slightly.

"Look who's talking Miss. 'I might not be a marine, but I sure can beat your ass,' " Jake adds, playfully pushing me.

This was one the first times I had smiled since arriving to Pandora. Usually keeping a stoic face, only smiling around my brother. My only family, the only thing from my past life.

Entering the link room behind Norm and Max, we're greeted by a voice. "Who's got my goddamn cigarette?" a redheaded woman demands, emerging from one of the link pods.

"Grace Augustine is a legend. She's the head of the Avatar Program. She wrote the book, I mean literally write the book on Pandora botany." Norm gushes. "Well that's because she likes plants more than people." Max adds teasingly.

"Well, there she is, Cinderella back from the ball. Grace, I'd like you to meet Norm Spellman, and Jake and Y/n Sully." Max says pointing at each of us in turn.

"Norm, I've heard good things about you. How's your Na'vi?" she asks, completely ignoring my brother and me, then begins to speak in a language I can only assume is Na'vi.

"Uh- Grace, this is Jake and Y/n Sully," Max interjects, trying to redirect her attention.

"Yeah, yeah. I know who you are, and I don't need you. I need your brother. You know. the PhD who trained for years for this mission? Yeah him." she snaps.

"He's dead. We know it's a big inconvenience for everyone, including me." I reply bluntly. There's no need to sugar coat anything that's already happened.

"How much lab training have you had?" she asks, looking between Jake and I.

"We dissected a frog once." Jake simply states.

"You see? I mean, they're just pissing on us without even the courtesy of calling it rain. I mean hell, the girl isn't even supposed to be here! I'm going to Selfridge, this is such bullshit." she rants, storming off but not before putting out her cigar.

"Well she's kind." I remark dryly.

As Jake and I arrive precisely at the time Max had instructed us to the day before, 0800, Jake and I hasten to catch up with Grace and Norm, who are already stationed at the link pods.

"You're late Sully's. You're in there, you're here." Grace remarks, gesturing towards two pods for Jake and I, and we obediently follow her directions.

"How much have you both logged?" she inquires, turning to the screen besides Jakes link pod.

"Zip, but I read a manual." Jake replies with a nonchalant shrug, as he wheels over to his pod.

"I listened to him read it out loud, if that counts." I confess making my way to my own pod.

"Tell me you're joking." Grace says incredulously, as she abandons her work on Jakes screen to approach mine.

"So you just decided to venture out here, to the most hostile environment known to man with no training whatsoever and see how it went? What was going on through your head?" she questions, setting up both mine and Jakes link screens for launch.

"Maybe I was tired of doctors telling what I couldn't do." Jake retorts, lying down in this link pod. I look at him wondering if that is why he spared no chance in me saying anything back when those men asked us to take the place of Tommy, because he was tired of the life he had.

"Keep you arms in, heads down." Grace instructs, pushing me into my link bed before I had the chance to ask Jake what he had truly meant.

"Just relax and let your mind go blank." are the last words I hear Grace utter before she seals my link pod.

Off to the side, Max examines scans of Jake and my brain. Studying the intently, he remarks. "Jakes brain is gorgeous, with nice activity. However we're detecting some resistance in Y/n's brain. She's unconsciously pushing back against the transfer, if this continues it could potentially harm the link." he informs, turning to Grace for guidance.

"Once the link is established, it cannot be interrupted. It will only worsen the issue," Grace states matter-of-factly, keeping an eye on my Avatar. Stubborn and resistant to change- that's Grace's initial assessment of Y/n, even after less than 48 hrs of meeting her.

As my eyes flutter open, I'm greeted by a blinding light that pierces my eyes. A sharp ache throbs in my head, intensifying until two figures materialize before me- doctors, no doubt.

"She's awake. Y/n, can you hear me? Are you feeling alright?" the female doctor inquires, checking my expression for any sign of discomfort.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I reply, opting not to mention the pounding headache. Slowly, I sit up, only to find my hands adorned with five blue fingers.

"I made it." I murmur to myself in disbelief. Glancing around, I notice Jake already on his feet, a grin stretching across his face. He's standing, a sight I never thought I'd witness again, his legs finally functioning.

"Y/n you've got to see this. When's the last time you saw your brother standing tall, huh?" he exclaims, turning to face me while his tail knocks over everything in it's path.

Finally on my feet, I chuckle, "Bro, we're giants." The realisation hits me as I gaze at Jake and then towards the exit to find that he was already smiling at me– we're thinking the same thing. Tri– Twin telepathy perhaps?

Without a word Jake and I bolt, dodging Avatars engaged in a game of basketball, evading Norm and the two doctors running after us. We hurdle obstacles until a humanoid robot comes into view.

"Sorry! we both exclaim breathlessly, narrowly avoiding a collision as we skid to a stop near some flora. Catching our breath, we're approached by an avatar bearing striking resemblance to Grace.

"Hey, Sully's!" she calls out, closing in on us.

"Grace?" Jake questions, eyeing her up and down.

"Who else were you expecting numbnuts?" she retorts with a grin, with me laughing at the nickname Grace gave him.

As Jake and Grace catch up, I slip away into the area where Avatars are housed, searching for a change of attire. Opting for a top similar to Graces but in a deep shade of blue, that are about a shade darker than my current skin tone, pairing it with green cargo shorts. Hoping to blend in slightly to the flora and fauna of the forest.

Gazing up at the darkening sky, I realize it's nearly nightfall, meaning I had to delink for the night. "Alright, everyone, settle down! Lights out." Grace commands, ushering the remaining humans away.

"See you at dinner kiddos," she adds, flicking the lights off.

Lying back, I can still feel the remnants of the headache, but I decided to let sleep wash it away. Closing my eyes, I drift off into a peaceful slumber.

next II

Tag list: @pinkvrydag @neytirismissingtoe @youskawng @tsuteyssyulang @lylalaminated

[evussy]

Word count: 9k words (smut with plot, TW cult, dub-con, mentions of knife, force intimacy, manipulation, gaslighting, use of bible verses while having sex, fl virgin, unprotected sex, dark & disturbing—it’s literally a Kai Anderson FanFic let’s be fr)

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT READ AT YOUR OWN RISK MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Faith = Reader

Messiah

Laughter echoed through the kitchen, warm and carefree. Faith stood at the counter, her hands buried in dough as she kneaded, her thin white sleep dress brushing her knees. A smudge of flour streaked her cheek, unnoticed in the sunlight streaming through the floral curtains. Across the room, Emma whisked something in a stainless-steel bowl, her messy bun bouncing with every laugh. Her oversized white T-shirt and pajama pants looked as casual as the conversation.

"Remember when I first met you? You couldn't even speak English!" Emma teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Faith groaned, laughing as she rolled the dough beneath her palms. "Oh, come on! Forget that! What did you expect? I'm an immigrant!"

Emma leaned against the counter, catching her breath from laughing. "Your pronunciation was always so funny!"

"Stop it! You're so mean!" Faith threw a small pinch of flour at her, unable to hide her grin.

Emma smirked, wiping her arm. "And that time you told me about your first date—using all those metaphors! I didn't understand a thing, but your confused face—"

The words cut off as the front door slammed open, the sound like a gunshot reverberating through the house. Faith froze, the laughter draining from her face. Emma's whisk stilled mid-air, her expression snapping into alarm.

Four strangers stepped into the kitchen, their presence as oppressive as a stormcloud. Three men and one woman, all in their late twenties, towered over the two young women. The first man, tall with a thick beard, scanned the room with a predatory gaze.

"You look happy. Contented," he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm as his eyes landed on Emma.

Emma looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. Her skin turned pale, her shoulders curling inward defensively. Faith glanced at her, confused and uneasy.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Emma," another man chimed in, his bleached-white hair gleaming under the sunlight. Dressed in a sharp red suit, he smirked with condescension. "Our leader is wondering if you're still loyal. You know you can't just walk away, right? Ignoring all your responsibilities?"

Emma swallowed hard, her hands trembling. "I didn't walk away," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not running anywhere."

Faith's frown deepened. "Emma, who are these people?" she asked softly, her unease growing.

Emma stammered, but no words came out.

"What's the matter, Emma? Are you ashamed of your family now?" the woman sneered. She was pale and sharp-featured, her thick eyeliner giving her an almost predatory look.

"You've got work to finish. Did you think we'd forget?" growled a third man, dressed in a blue uniform that looked out of place in the casual home setting.

"Just give me more time—I promise, I'll do it," Emma pleaded, her voice trembling.

"Promises, promises," the woman mocked, her lips curling into a cold smile. "Maybe you should make a pinky promise with him. It's been weeks, Emma. Do you think the world revolves around you? We're starting to wonder if you're useless."

Faith's jaw tightened as she stepped forward. "Excuse me? Don't talk to her like that. And who the hell are you to call yourselves her family? I've met her family—it's definitely not you!"

"Faith, shut up!" Emma hissed, panic flickering across her face.

The bearded man tilted his head, studying Faith with detached curiosity. "Should we kill her?" he asked the woman coldly. "She's a friend. Might know something."

"No! Don't!" Emma stepped forward, her hands raised in desperation. "She has nothing to do with this! Please, don't get her involved! I'll explain everything to Kai—I'll do what he asked, I swear. Just leave her alone."

Faith's panic boiled over. "What the hell, Emma? Who are these people? What's going on?"

The man in the red suit smirked. "Kai hasn't given the order yet. Let her explain. Killing them both here would be messy."

"You're not taking her!" Faith shouted, grabbing Emma's arm protectively. "Emma, these people are insane! Don't go with them!"

But her resistance was futile. The men moved quickly, one grabbing Faith's wrist while another yanked Emma toward the door. Faith struggled, but their strength overpowered hers.

"Take her too," the woman said coldly, pointing at Faith. "She'll be a nuisance otherwise. We'll deal with them both at the house."

The terror on Emma's face mirrored Faith's as the two of them were dragged outside, their protests drowned out by the sound of the van's doors slamming shut. The bright afternoon sun burned against Faith's skin, but the chill in her chest was far colder as the engine roared to life.

They were dragged across a vast living room, their footsteps muffled against the polished wooden floor. The dim, golden glow of ceiling lights struggled to pierce the heavy shadows lingering in the room, leaving much of the dark-paneled space cloaked in an oppressive gloom.

The air felt thick, suffocating, as they were shoved forward. Their captors gripped their arms tightly, forcing them to the center of the room. Faith stumbled, her bare feet sliding on the cold floor, her thin dress doing little to shield her from the chill. Emma, silent and trembling, barely lifted her head.

Then came the sound of measured footsteps, echoing from the staircase at the back of the room. All eyes turned as a man descended the wide, creaking steps.

His buzzed hair gleamed faintly under the dim light, his sharp features carved with calm authority. He wore a simple black shirt tucked neatly into dark jeans, the sleeves rolled just above his elbows, revealing forearms marked by faint scars and veins that spoke of quiet strength.

As he reached the bottom step, their captors released Faith and Emma abruptly, as if their very presence might offend the man. Faith staggered slightly but caught herself, her wide eyes darting toward Emma, who stood frozen, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

The man's gaze swept over them, lingering just a moment longer on Faith. His expression was unreadable—calm, calculating, and unnervingly composed. He stopped a few feet away, his presence filling the room like a sudden drop in temperature.

No one spoke. The silence stretched taut, broken only by the faint creak of the wooden floor beneath his boots as he shifted his weight. Finally, he clasped his hands behind his back, his voice low and steady when he spoke.

"Emma," he said, his tone devoid of warmth but heavy with unspoken expectation.

Emma flinched as if his voice had struck her. "Kai..." she stammered, her voice cracking.

Faith's breath hitched. This is him. This is the man they were talking about.

Kai tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes never leaving Emma. "You've been very busy," he said evenly. "And yet, not busy enough. Do you know how much trouble you've caused me?"

Emma's knees wavered, and she clasped her hands in front of her, her lips trembling. "I was going to—I didn't mean to—I just needed more time."

Kai let the silence stretch for a moment longer before his gaze shifted to Faith. His eyes scanned her slowly, taking in every detail—the flour still faintly dusting her cheek, the tremor in her hands, the way her dress clung to her frame.

"And who," he asked quietly, his tone sharp enough to slice through the air, "is this?"

No one spoke. The silence was suffocating, heavy with unspoken tension. Faith could feel it—the weight of their hesitation—as if uttering her name would seal her fate.

Kai's sharp gaze flickered between the people in the room, his patience thinning. He took a deliberate step toward Faith, the soles of his boots barely making a sound against the floor.

"Cat got your tongue?" he murmured, his voice low but cutting, every syllable sinking into her like a blade. His dark eyes lingered on her trembling form for a moment before he glanced around, his brows lifting in a calm, expectant gesture.

Someone had to speak.

"Her name's Faith," the woman finally said, her voice neutral but clipped. "That's what Emma called her earlier."

Kai tilted his head slightly, his gaze returning to Faith. "And why is she here?" he asked, his tone still calm but laced with an edge that made every word feel like a warning.

The man in the blue uniform shifted uncomfortably before speaking. "She's a friend. Tried to interfere earlier when we came for Emma. She wasn't part of the plan, but we didn't have time to deal with her, so we brought her along. Figured she might know something... or start spilling later."

Kai's eyes didn't leave Faith as the man spoke. The explanation seemed to hang in the air, sinking in slowly.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, his sharp jaw tightening for a brief moment before relaxing. His gaze bore into her, assessing every detail—her posture, the way her bare feet shifted nervously against the cold floor, and the fear radiating off her like heat.

"Faith," he repeated, his voice rolling over the syllables as though tasting them. It wasn't a question. It was an acknowledgment, deliberate and uncomfortably intimate.

Faith's chest tightened as she kept her gaze fixed on the wooden floor. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the oppressive silence. Her instincts screamed at her to look away, to disappear into herself, yet she felt his eyes crawling over her like a physical weight.

What had started as a simple, impulsive defense of her friend had spiraled into something far worse. She could feel it in the way the room seemed to darken around him, in the chill that seeped into her bones.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She was too afraid to meet his gaze.

Kai's lips quirked, not into a smile but something far more unsettling, like he was memorizing her—every quiver, every breath, every ounce of her fear.

"So, tell me, Emma." Kai's voice was smooth, almost gentle, but the undertone was unmistakable. It was a command wrapped in false affection.

Emma's breath hitched audibly, her shoulders tightening. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze.

"Why haven't you done what I told you to do?" His tone dropped lower, each word deliberate, slow, and weighted.

Faith watched him, her confusion mounting. His voice carried an unsettling mix of reprimand and encouragement, like a parent disappointed yet still coaxing.

"You're holding back our movement," he continued. "You know I need you, right? No one could've done this better than you. You're perfect for this. I trust you enough to know that."

"I know, I'm sorry..." Emma stammered, her voice trembling. "I just... I'm having cold feet... Kai—I—"

Her words trailed off, disjointed and incomplete. Faith listened intently but couldn't make sense of the exchange. Cold feet? Movement? Perfect for what? The vagueness hung heavy in the air, and this time, despite her growing fear, Faith stayed silent.

Kai stepped closer to Emma, his hand rising to cup her face with unsettling tenderness. His thumb brushed against her cheek, a gesture so soft it made Faith flinch.

"I know this is hard for you," he murmured, his voice a mockery of comfort. "But I love you, Emma. You know that, right?"

Emma nodded weakly, her body trembling under his touch. "I know," she whispered, her voice breaking. "But I'm scared. I'm really, really scared. I don't want to die."

Faith's lips parted as her best friend's words sunk in. Her stomach churned with a mix of shock and disbelief. Die? What the fuck is he asking her to do that involves dying?!

Kai didn't flinch at Emma's tears. If anything, his grip seemed to tighten slightly, though his tone remained soft.

"If you do this," he said, his voice almost hypnotic, "you'll live forever through me."

Emma's red-rimmed eyes flicked toward Faith, her gaze full of something Faith couldn't immediately place—regret, guilt, or maybe resignation. It felt like a silent goodbye, a final acknowledgment of something Faith wasn't ready to understand.

Faith's body tensed as her heart pounded. A sickening realization clawed at the edges of her mind, but the words still wouldn't come. She could only watch as Kai's hand lingered on Emma's tear-streaked face, his presence suffocating them both.

Kai's eyes followed Emma's gaze, his curiosity sharpening as both their eyes landed on Faith. Emma quickly averted her gaze, but Kai's lingered. His stare held an intensity that made Faith's skin crawl.

Then, as if deciding something in his mind, Kai looked back at Emma, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint, almost playful smirk.

"Do you want to do it together?" he asked casually, as if proposing something mundane. "Your friend isn't leaving here anyway. That way, you won't be alone, and it'll be less scary."

Faith's heart dropped. Her head snapped toward Emma, searching her friend's face for any semblance of an explanation, but all she found was panic.

"No!" Emma shook her head vehemently, her voice rising in desperation. "No, please, let her go. She has nothing to do with this, Kai. It's not fair for my best friend—"

"Best friend?" Kai interrupted, his tone dripping with amusement.

He turned back to Faith, taking a slow step toward her. She stiffened as his gaze swept over her, not in a leering way, but like he was studying a new piece of art. His eyes held an unnerving mix of interest and calculation, like he was fitting her into some grander scheme.

Faith's lips parted to speak, but the words died in her throat. She didn't trust her voice.

"She's your best friend?" Kai asked again, his tone softer, almost teasing. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking back to Emma. "And you thought it was fair to bring her here? Into this?"

Emma's breathing quickened, and her eyes darted back and forth between Faith and Kai. "I didn't bring her—she just happened to be at my house. Please, she doesn't know anything!"

Kai smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Interesting," he murmured. His gaze slid back to Faith, his expression unreadable.

Faith's pulse raced as she struggled to comprehend the exchange. Every word between Kai and Emma felt like a puzzle piece, but none of it fit together. All she knew was that whatever Kai was suggesting, it was bad—very bad.

"Well," Kai continued, his voice light but laced with menace, "since she's already here, maybe she can stay a little longer. You said she's your best friend, right? Wouldn't you want her by your side for something so important?"

Faith's stomach dropped, and she clenched her fists. Her instincts screamed to run, but she couldn't move.

Emma shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. "No! No, Kai, please! I'll do whatever you want, but let her go. She doesn't deserve this."

"You know I can't let her leave," Kai said, his voice eerily calm, addressing Emma as though Faith wasn't even there. "She already has an idea of what's going on. Unless..." He trailed off, turning his head toward Faith with a slow, deliberate gaze. "...she wants to be a part of us? Of course, I'd never insist or force anyone to join," he added smoothly, a false warmth lacing his tone. "I didn't force you, remember?"

Emma stood frozen, her face pale, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

"But if she doesn't..." Kai sighed, a theatrical display of weariness. "She can't go on another day, Emma. You know I have to be fair. No one gets exceptions here—not even your best friend." He emphasized the last two words, his voice hardening. "I have rules, Emma. Rules that protect all of us."

"She's got to stay alive, please," Emma pleaded, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her cheeks. "This is my fault—"

"Your fault?" Kai interrupted sharply, his tone deceptively soft. "Is being here a mistake for you?" His brow furrowed as if her words had wounded him, his eyes narrowing in mock sadness.

Emma's mouth opened, but no words came. She choked on her reply, her fear tangible.

Faith, on the floor, tried to muster every ounce of courage she had. "Can't you just let Emma go? We won't say a thing to anyone. We'll pretend this never happened—"

Her plea was cut short as Kai's hand struck her across the face with brutal force. The impact sent her sprawling to the ground, her cheek stinging with a searing heat.

Kai exhaled heavily, looking down at her with disdain. His hand slid down his face, rubbing his mouth before falling limply to his side. His stress seemed genuine, but it only made him more menacing.

Emma flinched at the sound of the slap, her sobs stifled as her body froze in place. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to move, unwilling to draw Kai's attention again.

"You don't get to talk back," Kai hissed, his voice dangerously low as he loomed over Faith. He pointed a finger down at her, his expression cold and unrelenting. "You don't even have the right to speak when I'm not talking to you. Do you understand?"

Faith pressed her trembling hands to the floor, her face throbbing as she avoided his piercing gaze. She didn't answer, her fear locking the words in her throat.

Kai waited, his silence heavy and oppressive, before stepping back toward Emma. "Fix this, Emma," he said simply, his tone soft but loaded with a threat that didn't need to be spoken.

Kai gestured to the man in the blue uniform, who immediately stepped forward and handed him a knife. The blade glinted coldly under the dim light as Kai tapped it rhythmically against his palm, the sound sharp and deliberate, like a clock ticking down.

He turned to Emma, his expression softening into a mockery of concern. "Are you still loyal to me, Emma?" he asked, his voice laced with feigned worry, though his eyes betrayed his predatory intent.

Emma's breath hitched, her body trembling. She didn't respond.

"C'mon," Kai urged, stepping closer and holding the knife out to her. "Take it."

Hesitantly, Emma extended her shaking hand and grasped the knife. It felt heavier than it should, her palm slick with sweat as her fingers closed around the handle.

Kai's gaze bore into her, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Now prove it to me," he said, his tone gentle yet commanding. "Prove to me that you're still loyal. That you're still my girl, Emma."

Emma's knees buckled, but she stayed standing, clutching the knife tightly.

"Kill this b*tch," Kai said nonchalantly, gesturing toward Faith with a lazy flick of his hand, as if her life were a minor inconvenience to be discarded.

Faith froze in place, her heart hammering in her chest. Her body moved before her mind caught up, stumbling back a step as if to distance herself from the growing horror.

"Emma," Faith whispered, her voice barely audible. Her wide, tear-filled eyes met her best friend's. She shook her head slowly, her lips trembling. "Please. Don't do this."

Kai watched the exchange with an air of amusement, his arms crossing as he leaned casually against the back of a chair. "Go ahead," he said, his voice light, as if they were discussing the weather.

"Show me your loyalty, Emma. I'm waiting."

Emma's hands shook violently, the blade quivering as her grip faltered. Tears streamed down her face, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Faith's back hit the wall, her hands raised in a quiet, desperate plea. "Emma, look at me," she whispered. "Don't let him do this to you. You don't have to do this."

Kai's expression darkened, his patience thinning. "Emma," he barked sharply, causing both women to flinch. "You don't make me doubt you, do you?"

The room fell silent, save for Emma's ragged breathing.

"Kai... I—I'll do what you ask me," Emma stammered, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation. "Sooner. Immediately. Tomorrow! Just... just spare Faith! Please!" Her tear-filled eyes darted toward Faith. "Faith, you'll be a part of us, right? You'll help us, right?" she cried, her tone pleading, almost frantic, as though trying to convince herself as much as her friend.

Faith's chest heaved with sobs, her back pressed firmly against the wall. "I don't even know what this is, Emma!" she cried out, her voice raw and trembling. "What the hell are you in? What's happening?"

"You just have to be loyal to Kai," Emma said, trembling, her grip on the knife tightening as though holding onto it might anchor her. "Like me—like everyone else. Help us—" Her voice cracked, and she broke into another sob.

Kai scoffed, the sound low and condescending. He stepped forward, his hands shoved into his pockets as his shadow loomed over both women. "And in what way," he said slowly, his tone dripping with disdain, "will she be useful to me?"

Emma froze, her breath hitching as Kai's cold gaze burned into her.

"You can barely manage to be useful yourself, Emma," he continued, shaking his head, disappointment laced in his words. "Why would I waste my time on someone weaker than you?"

Emma's knees buckled, but she remained standing, her head bowed in shame and fear. Faith, meanwhile, stood frozen, her mind racing for an escape that didn't exist.

Kai clicked his tongue, pacing slowly between them. "You disappoint me, Emma. Again," he muttered, his voice a mix of mockery and menace. "Now tell me—why exactly should I listen to your pathetic begging?"

"She can cook for you and clean," Emma said hurriedly, almost stumbling over her words. "She's good at it! Isn't that what women are for?" The last phrase escaped her lips involuntarily, something she'd heard Kai say countless times.

Kai's lips twisted into a sneer, his eyes narrowing with contempt. "That's all?" He scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "She can't even kill? Does she even have anything to fight for? Like we do?" He took a step closer to Faith, his gaze intense and piercing.

"I can't kill," Faith said quickly, her voice shaking with fear. "I can't go to jail. I don't want to go to jail," she added, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't risk everything—her life, her sick sister, the fragile sense of stability she had left.

Kai's gaze shifted back to Emma, a silent agreement passing between them. He shrugged with a bored expression. "See?" he said simply, as though the answer was obvious. "She's not worth it."

"Faith, please!" Emma's voice cracked with frustration. Her hands trembled at her sides, desperate to find some way to fix this—to save her friend from whatever fate Kai had in store for her.

"Aren't you looking for the right woman to bear your successor? Why not her?" The man with white hair and a red suit spoke, his voice daring, cutting through the tense silence.

Kai stopped dead in his tracks, his lips slightly parted as the suggestion hung in the air. The idea seemed to sink in slowly, his gaze shifting between Emma, Faith, and the man who had spoken. His expression darkened, considering the proposition.

Faith's face drained of color, her eyes wide with terror. The weight of the suggestion settled over her like a suffocating fog. She felt as though her life was being toyed with, threatened by the very thought of what they might be suggesting.

"Emma! Speak! They can't do that to me!" Faith shouted, her voice cracking with shock and panic, eyes pleading with her best friend for help.

For a moment, the room fell into a suffocating silence. Kai's gaze never left Faith, slowly tracing her form from head to toe, as if he were sizing her up. She was fragile, all fire and defiance on the outside, but he could see it—the fear in her eyes, the trembling in her stance. It was clear. He could break her, reshape her into what he wanted, force her into submission.

The white, thin dress she wore—innocent and delicate—suddenly made perfect sense. She looked like a sacrificial lamb, untouched, pure... like the Virgin Mary, offering herself for something much darker.

"Faith..." Kai's voice was soft, almost reverent, as if speaking her name brought something sacred to the moment. She stood before him, trembling, untouched, like she had stepped out of a storybook. "Maybe this is fate?" he murmured, a strange, chilling satisfaction in his words.

"You're insane! All of you are insane!" Faith lashed out, her voice sharp with defiance. "I'm never going to have sex with you, you disgusting piece of shi-"

Before she could finish, the bearded man stepped forward, pressing the cold barrel of a gun against her neck. The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out. Her heart raced as everyone held their breath, waiting for something to happen. But Kai-he was calm, his eyes never leaving Faith, a twisted admiration flickering across his face. He wasn't offended.

No, he was in awe.

The gun's cold metal dug into her skin, and Faith refused to flinch. "I'd rather be killed today than let you have me," she spat, her voice steady despite the panic clawing at her throat. "At least I can keep my dignity! You're not going to be my first. Just thinking about it makes me sick! A baby? A crazy child like you?" She glared at Kai, the anger surging through her. She was ready for death now.

Anything was better than being a vessel for his madness.

Kai didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked at her, eyes narrowing, lips curling into a dark smile. "So, you're a virgin?" His voice was quiet, but every word felt deliberate, like he was savoring it.

Faith's chest tightened, but she didn't answer. It was as if cold water had been poured over her, freezing her in place. His look-satisfied, pleased-sent a shiver through her, and she couldn't tear her gaze away.

"You're clean. Untouched..." Kai mused, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. The way he said it-like it was something he owned now-sent a wave of unease crashing through her.

"Get that gun out of her face," Kai ordered. He motioned to two of his men. The one with the white hair and the bearded one. They moved quickly, grabbing her arms and pulling her toward a room. Faith screamed, struggling against their hold, her fists beating uselessly against their grip. But it was no use. They dragged her away, her cries echoing in the empty hallway.

The room was stark and cold, its simplicity amplifying the fear that clung to the air. A queen-sized bed sat in the center, its white pillows and sheets marred by the faintest signs of old stains. Wooden furniture—nothing fancy—lined the walls, a small cabinet, and a bathroom tucked off to the side. Hours had passed since she was brought in here, the weight of time pressing heavily on her chest. She had searched the room meticulously, rifling through every cabinet and corner, hoping for a weapon -anything. But there was nothing. Every attempt to open the door was met with cold, mocking voices from outside, telling her it was useless.

She paced, anxiously, her thoughts racing.

Then, the door creaked open.

Kai stepped inside, his presence as imposing as ever. But this time, his gaze was different. It wasn't filled with the usual disdain, but rather something unsettling -something that made her feel like her existence meant more to him now, like she had some kind of purpose to him.

"Do you want to pray first, Faith?" he asked, holding a Bible in his hands, his voice deceptively calm.

"F*ck you!" she spat, trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

In a fluid motion, Kai stepped forward, slamming the Bible across her face. The sting exploded across her skin. "The mother of my child won't speak like that," he said coldly, his eyes narrowing. "You need to understand your place here, hm?"

"I'm not a mother," she spat again, her lip split and bleeding.

His eyes darkened, his patience visibly thinning. He exhaled sharply. "Get on the bed," he ordered, his tone firm and unyielding. Every word felt like a weight, pressing her further down.

She shook her head violently. "K*Il me instead," she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Without saying a word, Kai motioned for two men to enter. The sight of them only made her heart race faster, her fear spiking.

"F*cking tie her to the bed," Kai instructed, his voice void of any mercy.

The men moved quickly, grabbing her as she screamed, her hands struggling to free themselves. The man in the blue uniform reached behind his back, pulling out a set of handcuffs. Faith thrashed, kicking and shouting, but it was no use. They were too strong, too many. They forced her down onto the bed, pinning her in place before cuffing her hands to the metal headboard.

Her body went rigid, her screams echoing in the room. She thrashed with every ounce of strength she had, but the steel cuffs bit into her wrists, and she was trapped.

And there stood Kai, towering over her feet. His presence alone was enough to make her stomach churn. The Bible he clutched in his hands felt like a twisted contradiction against the cruelty in his eyes.

Kai's gaze burned into her, his dark eyes alight with a fervor that bordered on madness. Slowly, he began unbuttoning his shirt, his movements deliberate as if to savor the moment. The room seemed to grow colder, the weight of his intentions suffocating.

Faith's breathing hitched as the shirt slipped from his shoulders, revealing the hard planes of his chest. His skin was marred only by the inked symbol that dominated the center—a blazing sun with rays curling outward, and at its core, a single, unblinking eye. It stared out like a sentinel, its design intricate and foreboding, as if it were alive and watching her every move.

Below the tattoo, his chest was chiseled, every muscle defined, the sharp lines of his abs dipping into a taut V-shape. A faint trail of dark hair ran from his navel downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his dark jeans. The sight was unnerving, a twisted contrast to the raw, male beauty he exuded.

Kai noticed her stare, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He reached up, running a hand over the tattoo as if to emphasize it, his fingers brushing against the inked eye. "This," he said, his voice low, reverent, "is the mark of the divine. The proof of my purpose."

He leaned over her, the heat of his body oppressive as his words dripped with fervor. "You will worship me, Faith. And together, we will bring forth the light."

She broke into a silent sobs once again, the weight of his presence pressing down on her, as his lips curled into a twisted smile. The ritual, it seemed, was only just beginning.

The room was suffocatingly quiet, the only sound her ragged breathing and the faint creak of the bed beneath her. The sheets clung to her skin, their texture rough against the thin fabric of her sleeping dress. The wooden walls surrounding her felt oppressive, closing in like a cage.

She flinched as he crawled onto the mattress, the springs groaning under his weight. He moved slowly, deliberately. His hands moved with slow precision, trailing down her arms, his touch almost gentle. His fingertips brushed her collarbone, lingering at the base of her throat. She stiffened, the conflicting mix of fear and something she couldn't name tightening in her chest. "Your body," he said, his voice dropping lower, "is a vessel for divinity."

He let his palm flatten against her stomach, moving in languid strokes, as though savoring the feel of her skin. "But first, it must be sanctified." His hands dipped lower, his touch skimming the hem of her dress

The way his eyes never left her face made her want to squirm, but the cuffs held her firm, trapped beneath his scrutiny.

Kai shifted, his weight pressing the mattress down beside her. His mouth hovered at her ear, the warmth of his breath making her shiver as he whispered, "Your flesh is not your own. It belongs to a greater purpose." His lips grazed the edge of her jaw, his tongue flicking out to taste the flour on her cheek. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her dress, brushing along her thighs with a deliberate slowness that made her squirm.

"Don't fight it," he murmured, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "Submission is salvation."

His free hand slid up to cup her face, turning her gaze back to his. Her eyes burned, tears threatening to spill, but the raw intensity in his expression rooted her in place. "Don't look away," he commanded, his tone suddenly sharper. "This moment is sacred."

His fingers lingered at the edge of her underwear, his movements slow, savoring the power he held. He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "This is not just for me," he murmured, his tone reverent yet cold. "It's for the world. This is for the next messiah."

Her breath hitched, and she finally found her voice, though it trembled. "Y-you don't have to do this," she stammered, trying to push her knees together, but his hands held her thighs firmly apart. "Please... I don't want this."

Kai paused, tilting his head as if her words intrigued him. "Your desires are irrelevant," he replied softly, his grip tightening. "You were chosen, not because you wanted it, but because you were destined."

She shook her head, panic bubbling to the surface. "I'm not... I'm not who you think I am! This is a mistake!"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "There are no mistakes in my plan," he said, his two hands pushed the fabric of her dress higher, baring her completely. The humiliation burned through her, making her squirm beneath him, but his weight pinned her in place. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Please, don't."

Kai ignored her, his lips grazing her neck as he muttered, "And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favor with God." His voice was soft, almost tender, as though he were comforting her. But his actions were anything but.

His hands moved with more purpose now, exploring her body with invasive familiarity. Every touch felt like a violation, his palms rough against her soft breast . She twisted beneath him, her wrists straining against the cuffs that held her. "Get off me!" she screamed, her voice cracking with desperation.

Kai's hand shot to her throat, tightened slightly around her throat, enough to still her struggles without cutting off her breath. His thumb stroked her jawline, almost gently, as his other hand moved with unhurried precision. He slid his fingers lower, his touch grazing the sensitive skin of her clothed center before pressing firmly against the thin fabric still shielding her.

A soft gasp escaping her lips as his finger began pressing slowly and circling over her most vulnerable spot. "You will carry the child of God," he murmured, watching her face as her hips involuntarily shifted. His thumb alternating between soft, teasing motions and firmer pressure, watching her carefully. His lips returned to her skin, marking her with open- mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder.

"No," she whimpered, her voice cracking as her hips jerked instinctively. "Stop- please-"

He cut her off with a sharp press of his thumb, dragging them firmly along her through the fabric. "Your words mean nothing," he said, his tone calm, dismissive. "This is your purpose. It's written into your flesh."

Her thighs trembled against his hand, the sensation overwhelming despite her desperate attempts to resist it. She bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the sounds rising in her throat, but Kai was relentless. He shifted his weight, settling lower as his hand slipped beneath the fabric, his fingertips brushing against her bare entrance.

The first touch was a deliberate stroke, dragging through her folds with maddening slowness, spreading the dampness he found there. "Your body already prepares itself," he said, his voice a mixture of reverence and control. "You cannot fight His design."

Her head thrashed against the pillow, tears spilling freely now. "I-I don't want this," she choked out, her voice thick with desperation.

"But you need this," he countered smoothly, his fingers finding her most sensitive spot and circling it with excruciating precision. His movements were slow and controlled, alternating between feather-light teasing and firmer, more insistent strokes. Her back arched involuntarily as a jolt of pleasure coursed through her, and her face burned with shame.

"Stop," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper now. Her body trembled beneath him, every nerve alive with sensations she didn't want to feel.

Kai's lips quirked into a faint smile. "You'll thank me later," he said, his voice disturbingly calm. His fingers pressed deeper, exploring her with invasive confidence, stroking and teasing until her hips moved involuntarily against his hand.

"No, no-" she whimpered, trying to twist away, but the cuffs held her firmly in place. Despite herself, she felt the heat building low in her stomach. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, and her thighs quivered against his hand. "No," she sobbed, shaking her head as if to deny what her body was feeling.

Kai's smile, dimples deepened, his movements unrelenting. "Your body doesn't lie," he murmured. "Let it guide you to the truth."

Her tears blurred her vision as she twisted beneath him, desperation igniting a brief surge of defiance. Her bound wrists strained against the handcuffs, and her legs kicked, trying to shove him away. "Get off me!" she screamed, the rawness in her voice matching the fury in her chest.

Kai's eyes darkened, his calm demeanor cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of impatience. He caught her flailing leg with one hand, pinning it firmly against the bed as his other hand didn't waver from its sinful exploration. "You fight like a lamb struggling against the altar," he muttered, his tone sharp but still composed. "But you will submit."

"Let me go!" she spat, her voice shaking with anger and humiliation. She twisted her hips violently, desperate to break free, but it only seemed to amuse him.

"Such spirit," he murmured, his lips curling into a sinister smile. "But it's wasted on defiance." Without warning, he plunged a middle finger inside her, the sudden invasion stealing the breath from her lungs.

Her body froze, every muscle locking up as an unbidden moan escaped her lips. She hated the sound the moment it left her, but the sensation was undeniable-sharp, intrusive, and achingly slow as he pushed in deeper, curling his finger just so.

Kai's smirk widened. "There it is," he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "The moment the anger fades, and the truth begins to seep in."

She bit down on her lip hard, the coppery taste of blood grounding her. Her walls clenched around his finger involuntarily, a shameful heat blooming in her core. "No," she whimpered, her voice trembling as her hips instinctively shifted, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation.

But he didn't let up. Instead, he added a torturous twist to his movements, his finger pressing against a spot that made her vision blur. His pace was maddeningly slow, dragging out every unwilling reaction of her.

Her head shook violently, her hair sticking to her damp cheeks. "I- I hate you," she managed to choke out, but the words lacked conviction. Her body, traitorous and weak, was responding in ways she couldn't control.

Kai laughed softly, the sound low and chilling. "Hate me all you like," he said, his finger withdrawing agonizingly slowly before thrusting back in with a firm motion that made her back arch despite herself. "Your hatred only fuels the fire. It will burn away everything else, leaving nothing but your truth."

Her legs quivered against the mattress, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. She clung desperately to her anger, but it was slipping through her fingers like sand. Every calculated curl of his finger, every deep, probing thrust unraveled her, piece by piece.

"No," she sobbed, tears streaming down her face as her hips moved involuntarily, tilting upward into his hand.

"Stop, please..."

Kai leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the corner of her mouth. "You say stop, but your body begs for more," he murmured, his voice soft, almost mocking. His finger twisted inside her, pressing deeper, eliciting a strangled moan from her lips.

Her anger, once blazing, was now flickering, replaced by a growing, shameful ache that she couldn't suppress. Her wrists fell limp against the cuffs as her body trembled beneath him, caught between resistance and reluctant surrender.

Kai's hand stilled, his finger remaining buried within her as if savoring her trembling silence. His gaze swept over her tear-streaked face, the faintest trace of amusement lingering in his dark eyes. "Faith," he said softly, as if her name were a prayer. "Do you understand now? This is not cruelty-it is creation."

Her lips quivered, but she refused to meet his gaze, her cheeks burning with humiliation. "You're insane," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"Perhaps," he replied, his tone maddeningly calm. "But even the prophets were called mad."

He withdrew his soaked finger slowly, purposefully, drawing a choked gasp from her as the sensation left her aching and empty. She thought he might stop-give her a moment to breathe-but the weight of him shifted, and she felt the rough scrape of his jeans against her thighs as he knelt between her legs.

Her panic reignited as she realized his intent. "Wait, no -no!" she cried, thrashing beneath him. "You can't- I've never—"

Kai tilted his head, his expression softening in a way that only made him seem more unhinged. "I know," he murmured, running a hand down the length of her trembling thigh. "That's what makes this pure."

Her struggles grew frantic, but he was immovable, his hands gripping her hips with bruising force. His touch returned to the apex of her thighs, spreading her gently despite her resistance.

"Shhh," he cooed, his voice eerily tender. "The first time is always a revelation."

She shook her head violently, her tears falling faster. "Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "Don't do this. You don't have to do this."

His response was a low hum, his hands tugging at his belt with practiced ease. The sound of the buckle clinking sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through her, and she kicked out, desperate to put any distance between them.

Kai caught her ankles effortlessly, pressing them back down to the mattress. "Be still," he commanded, his voice carrying an edge of authority that sent a shiver down her spine. "You'll only make this harder on yourself."

She whimpered, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she fought against the inevitable. She felt the warmth of his body against hers, the fabric of her thin dress offering no protection as he pressed closer.

He positioned himself with deliberate care, his hand guiding himself to her entrance. The blunt pressure against her sent a jolt of terror through her, and she shook her head furiously.

"No, no, no-"

Kai exhaled sharply, his grip on her hips was unyielding, his fingers digging into her flesh as he moved slowly, inch by inch, forcing her body to accommodate him.

The pressure increased, the stretch burning as he began to push forward. Her nails dug into her palms, her breath hitching in her throat as pain shot through her. "It hurts," she gasped, her voice trembling. "Stop, please—"

"Pain is part of the sacrifice," Kai muttered, his jaw tightening as he pressed deeper. "But it is fleeting, I promise you. What comes after... is divine."

The stretch was relentless, the burn sharp and undeniable, but he pressed forward without hesitation, his breath hitching as he sank deeper.

"There," he muttered, his voice heavy with satisfaction as he bottomed out, his hips flush against hers. His head tipped back briefly, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

Faith's head turned to the side, her cheek pressing into the damp pillow as she bit down on her lip to muffle her cries. Her body trembled, unused to the intrusion, every nerve alight with a confusing mix of pain and an unbearable fullness.

Kai shifted his hips, pulling back slowly, the drag of his length against her walls both invasive and maddeningly deliberate. The motion made her gasp, her body clenching instinctively around him as if to resist his retreat. He chuckled darkly at her reaction, his movements unhurried as he pushed back in, grinding against her with a pressure that stole the breath from her lungs.

Each thrust was deep, filling her completely, the friction making her toes curl involuntarily. His hips rolled with calculated control, his every motion designed to draw out her reactions, no matter how much she tried to suppress them.

She whimpered as his pace quickened slightly, his movements becoming more fluid. The mattress creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with the labored breaths and muted cries that filled the room. His hands roamed over her body, one sliding up to press against her lower stomach, holding her in place as he drove into her.

"Feel that?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. His hand applied just enough pressure to make her hyperaware of the depth of his thrusts, the way he seemed to fill every inch of her. "That's me claiming you. Body and soul."

Her hands grasped in the metal headrest as she writhed beneath him, her resistance faltering with every calculated movement. He whispered into her ear, "For He has made you fearfully and wonderfully... and mine."

Kai's thrusts grew more purposeful, his hips snapping forward with a force that made her body jolt with each impact. The wet sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, amplifying her humiliation. Her breaths came in short, broken gasps, her body unable to ignore the growing heat building low in her stomach.

"No," she whimpered, shaking her head weakly, her voice barely audible.

"Yes," he countered, his teeth grazing her earlobe as his pace quickened.

Faith let out a choked sob, her body arching against him despite her protests. The pleasure was unwanted, overwhelming, and it consumed her completely, her resistance melting under the relentless onslaught of his touch and movements.

Kai's thrusts slowed for a moment, his hips rolling in a careful, torturous grind that made her gasp sharply beneath him. He seemed to savor the sensation, his head tilting back as his eyes fluttered shut. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice rasping with unrestrained pleasure. His hands slid to her thighs, spreading her further to feel every inch of her. "Like a vessel waiting to be filled."

Faith shuddered at his words, her walls spasming involuntarily around him as his deliberate pace left her breathless. She could feel everything-the heat of him, every pulsating veins of his within her walls, the way he stretched her, the slick friction that sent unbearable jolts of sensation through her core.

Kai's breath hitched, a guttural groan escaping his lips as her body clamped down on him. "Yes," he muttered, his hands gripping her hips harder, pulling her back to meet his slow, deep thrusts.

His hips drawing back until only the tip of him remained inside her, teasing her with a maddening pause before driving forward again. The force made her body jolt, her thighs trembling as the fullness overwhelmed her senses.

"You'll bear my seed," he said, his voice deepening, laced with something almost reverent. He leaned over her, his lips brushing against her ear. "As it is written, 'Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it.' " His tone was steady, like he was reciting holy scripture while sinking into her again.

Faith whimpered as she clung to the metal frame on top of her head. The pain had dulled, replaced by an unwelcome heat that coiled tighter with every thrust. She hated how her body responded, the slickness between her thighs betraying her as he moved.

Kai's breath came faster now, his control fraying as her warmth surrounded him. He muttered under his breath, his words fragmented and fervent. "Though I walk through the valley... oh, the way you f*cking cling to me," he groaned, his hips snapping forward with more urgency. "You resist, but your body welcomes me, doesn't it?"

She shook her head weakly, her voice breaking. "No... I—I don't want this..."

"Your lips lie," he growled, his pace quickening, the sound of their bodies meeting growing louder. His hand slid between them, his fingers brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves at her center, drawing a sharp gasp from her. "But this... this tells the truth."

The new sensation made her cry out, her body arching involuntarily as his touch sent shockwaves through her. He applied just enough pressure to keep her on edge, his thrusts steady and relentless, building a rhythm that left her unable to think of anything but the way he filled her.

"'The two shall become one flesh,'" he murmured, his voice low and almost gentle, as though he were comforting her. His fingers moved in sync with his thrusts, his hips rolling with practiced ease.

Her mind spinning. The pleasure was undeniable now, crashing over her in waves, leaving her gasping and trembling beneath him.

Kai's movements became desperate, his breath ragged as he pulled back slightly, positioning himself in a way that deepened their connection. With a swift motion, he pushed Faith's legs up onto his shoulders, forcing her hips higher, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable beneath him. The angle made every inch of him feel more intense—too much. It felt as though he were trying to imprint himself inside of her, claiming her in the most physical way possible.

Faith gasped, the shift in position pushing her closer to the edge. The new angle made every motion of him feel even more invasive, more powerful. Her legs trembled as they rested on his shoulders.

"And the Lord said," Kai muttered, his voice low and intense, almost feverish. "Let there be light..." His thrusts quickened, each one dragging a sharp gasp from Faith as his body pressed harder into hers. "Let there be life..." He slammed into her again, the force making her breath catch in her throat.

Faith's mind was spinning, her whole body was on fire, every part of her reacting against her will, trembling with the force of it.

"Please... no more," she gasped, her voice breaking as she tugged against the cuffs. Eyes in a daze. But the words were meaningless to him. He only smiled, the Bible verse slipping from his lips like a command. "I am the way, the truth, and the life..."

Faith's body bucked beneath him as the pressure inside her built, the unbearable tension in her belly threatening to snap.

Kai's thrusts were now erratic, his hands gripping her thighs tighter, holding her in place with a primal need. His groans were louder now, his movements frantic as he neared the edge. "You will bear my seed," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "And you will be mine... forever."

With a final, brutal push, Kai buried himself deep inside her, the force of his hot release crashing over her in a moment of complete surrender. Faith's body spasmed beneath him, the shock of his release causing her to climax violently, her walls tightening around him as she shook uncontrollably.

For a long moment, they were locked in place, her legs still resting on his shoulders as he trembled above her. Kai muttered one last verse, his voice barely a whisper, "It is finished..."

The room was still, save for their heavy breathing, as he slowly collapsed against her, his body heavy with the aftermath of their intense union.

[kiefbowl]

I do have a suggestion you can ignore, but this is for young feminists online and that is to try, as best as you can, to not concoct the emotional narrative of people you don't have the faintest idea of. it's not that you can't speak to the generalized likelihood of what women and girls feel in this or that situation, but when we're talking about a specific woman in a specific situation, whether it's from a news article or a screenshot of a social media post...it's best not to assume things like "she was probably horrified" or "I'm sure she feels traumatized" or even "she must have hated this" or "it probably feels like a betrayal when..." yadda yadda. Maybe you're right, and probably are, but you could be wrong. And when getting to the root of why women are oppressed, it kinda doesn't always matter what each woman "feels" about given situations. There are plenty of women who will refused to accept the facts of their rape count as rape, as an example. Well, I don't really see the point of demanding them to change their mind on that, as that is prioritizing my politics over their lived experiences. Maybe they'll come around on their own, and maybe they won't, and in any case you can still speak intelligently to it. If you want another example: there are plenty of surrogates who will be pissed the fuck off if you tell them they must have felt some certain way during their pregnancy, labor, and the child hand off. And why shouldn't they, you don't know what's in their head. You do not know better than them about their own feelings full stop. It doesn't matter! their feelings one way or the other isn't the reason why surrogacy is an issue to feminists. Women will feel a multitude of ways about every single thing under the sun. We're a diverse group. Try to speak towards facts, and avoid creating unwarranted narratives of real people based on assumptions as much as you can.

[schraubd]

The Joy of Being a Democrat

  One of the things I'm enjoying most about the Harris/Walz campaign, and the current Democratic mood more broadly, is how joyful it is. A common critique of progressives has always been that we're joyless, and while that attack has never been entirely fair, it doesn't come wholly from nowhere either. There's a generalized version of the old Futurama joke ("I'm sorry, but if it's fun in any way, it's not environmentalism!") -- if you're not trudging along in grimdark misery, then you don't understand the stakes/don't care about the oppressed/aren't a true believer in the revolution. It's exhausting to live out, and it isn't a lifestyle anyone really wants to join. But that isn't us right now! It's the right that is wallowing in its own self-induced machine of rage and fear and misery. The Olympics were a great example -- conservatives spent their time searching for their calipers and reliving their frustration that Simone Biles didn't snap her neck in 2021; meanwhile liberals just enjoyed watching some of the greatest athletes on Earth do incredible things under the American banner. Who would you rather be?  And this divide is present all over the 2024 race. The complete inability of conservatives to make anything stick on Tim Walz stems from their complete bafflement that a basic cishet white guy can just be happy in 2024. Doesn't he know that trans-CRT-illegal-abortionists are coming for his daughter?!? The RNC was a miserable slog of one apparatchik after another warning us that we're all going to die unless the God-king Trump is restored; the DNC was a dance party featuring your favorite tunes from middle school. Hell, one of the primary attack lines Republicans have been trying against Kamala Harris is her laugh! Democrats now are literally the party of laughing (and football, and Bud Light)! It's really nice. And for what it's worth, I do understand the stakes, and I do understand that many people are hurting, and I do understand there's a lot of work to be done. But joy counts for something. And it feels really good to be part of a joyful Democratic coalition. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/ey54oaZ

[opossumanon]

I just got reminded of an experience of mine a year ago now that serves as a pretty good example of the kind of shit trans men, transmascs, and transneutrals often go through.

(Full yap session ahead)

So I'm sitting with my new friends at the same spot in the hallway as always. We aren't exactly a small group. We're all different, but one thing that's obvious is that in the eyes of bullies we're all fucking losers.

So this one group comes up to us and starts to make fun of us. Every fucking day. Like clockwork. They're puny little shitheads who have barely started puberty. Their leader, who was shorter than me, couldn't even say "cavalry" correctly and was pronouncing it as "chavalry" for some fucking reason.

Every day, this kid and his buds come up and try to harass us, often by asking us about gay shit and asking me about my pronouns. Every day, I roast him and the group into oblivion and they sulk away to regroup and come back the next day.

One day, this kid is mad enough about me making him look like a small-dicked loser in front of his friends, that while walking away he calls out at me "I would fight you but I don't know if you're a boy or a girl"

He never acted on the threat thankfully (Probably cuz I literally chucked him out of a classroom), but the point still stands that this fucker and his friends were threatening to attack me for being trans.

This fucker and his friends looked at me, someone they knew had a vagina and tits, but used a deep voice and had short hair, and they couldn't tell if I were a binary tranny, a nonbinary tranny, or an ugly dyke. They wanted to beat me up for it, and also cuz my tranny/dyke self was making them feel emasculated.

This is the kind of shit that trans men, transmascs, and transneutral people put up with more often than some of yall realize.

(To clarify right now NO, I AM NOT SAYING THAT TRANS WOMEN, TRANSFEMS, AND FEMININE CIS WOMEN DON'T GO THROUGH THIS. THEY DO. WE ALL KNOW THIS. I AM SIMPLY POINTING OUT AN EXPERIENCE THAT MASCS, AND NEUTRALS TEND TO HAVE THAT THE REST OF THE COMMUNITY TRIES TO DENY THE EXISTENCE OF)

We're still threatened with violence. Our existence makes perisex cis men uncomfortable, makes perisex cis women disgusted, and makes both scared for one reason or another. The more masculine an "afab" queer person is, the appropriate it is to beat the shit out of them. Because she's a man, right? If she wants to be a guy and wear guy's clothes and speak with a guy's voice, then she can take the fucking beating that we give her, because that's just what guys do.

So transmascs will walk into a queer space and become the emotional punching bag of insecure queers, and then turn around and walk into a cishet space and become the literal punching bag of insecure cishets. We just can't win.

Obviously the queer space is still safer, which is why we're still invading with our disgusting testosterone-filled bodies. But it isn't exactly fun to try and engage with people we see as "like us" (queer) only to be pushed away because we're men, and if we're men we never deal with oppression, right? We can handle violence, cuz that's what men do. As men, it's our job to let the ladies and fems verbally diminish us because they were hurt by men and so they have a right to take out their pain on us. If we don't agree to this, then we're misogynistic pigs, and then "trans men really are the men of the trans community".

Transmascs with functioning uterus' are conveniently left out of abortion rights discussions, and when we try to announce our presence we're told to shut up. Transmascs who are passing are conveniently left out of trans discussions, and when we try to announce our presence we're told that we don't count because we aren't oppressed because we fully pass now. Transmascs who don't pass are conveniently left out of safety discussions, and when we try to announce our presence we're told that we don't count because we pass as cis women, and cis women have more privilege than trans women. (That last one is a real line I've seen on this site btw)

Trying to say "I want acknowledgement" as a transmasc present at a more friendly queer space doesn't result in vitriol, but what happens instead is that there will be a "transgender recognition" night that has maybe one trans man if we're lucky, and then dozens of trans women and more feminine-looking nonbinary people.

I'm gonna cut this post off right here before I accidentally type out a full-blown book of all the gripes I got, but the point is that you can't apply the baby-level radfem idea of "man bad, woman good" to the queer community. It's dumb as fuck in the cishet world, and it's so much worse in lgbt spaces. Literally the point of being queer is to fuck with gender roles. This doesn't just mean everyone is feminine. You can't walk into a queer space and go "men are evil" without it affecting half of the queer population. Trans men aren't attacking trans women by saying "I want to be respected as a human being, please". Trans men aren't trying to trick gay men into fucking them by saying "I want to be respected as a gay man, please". Trans men aren't trying to trick lesbians into fucking them by saying "I want to be respected as a boydyke, please".

If everyone in the community were to take a fraction of the energy and love they dedicate to feminine queers and use it to "reach across the isle" and try to connect with and understand masculine queers, the community as a whole benefits. Also masculine queers deserve to be treated well even if it doesn't give good things to the entire community, cuz we're people too. We deserve decent treatment because we're human. Who woulda thought.

(P.S. I still see the leader of the dumbfuck squad walking around sometimes. He's still shorter than me, but his hair is taller. I swear it looks a little more tall every time I spot him.)

[oceansprompts]

adjust pronouns, names, and details as needed... assorted quotes taken from marvel ultimate alliance 3: the black order. part 1 of ???

❝ Well, that's another planet we'll never be able to visit again.❞

❝ Yeah, well, I don't go to museums to read. I go there to steal. ❞

❝ Anyone else would waited to offend their clients until AFTER they were paid. ❞

❝ I'm not anyone else. I'm one of a kind, baby. ❞

❝ Oh, oh, don't you side with them, you overgrown-- ❞

❝ Cosmic Cubes. Nega-Bands, Asgardian Hammers... You know, the kind of stuff people pay big money for. ❞

❝  If I were hiding an object of immense cosmic power, I would want it to look that way as well. ❞

❝ I was going to say "any survivors." But sure... Treasure is always good, too. ❞

❝ Seriously? No welcoming committee? ❞

❝ Over there! Such a shiny switch is begging to be flipped! ❞

❝ Easy to say for the man with the ridiculous boot jets! ❞

❝ If our plan fails, the blood of every being in this universe will be on your hands. ❞

❝ Idiots! Your stupidity may have doomed the universe! ❞

❝ Wouldn't be the first time, sweetheart. ❞

❝ Danger and chaos! Two of my favorite things! ❞

❝ Don't get too comfy, pal. Final destination's right on the other side of this door. ❞

❝ What the frutak was that?! ❞

❝ If we stop fighting for just a minute, we might be able to find a way to fix this. ❞

❝ You will leave here with nothing. Not even your lives. I have felled worlds. Your pathetic attacks cannot harm me. ❞

❝ We weren't tryin' to hurt ya. Just to distract ya. ❞

❝ I think I'm gonna hurl. Oh, great! You're here! I thought we were dead. We aren't dead, are we? ❞

❝ I have felt death. This...is slightly less pleasant. ❞

❝ We are alive. But we could be anywhere in space or time. The Infinity Stones are not plaything ❞

❝ Hey! I did exactly what you said. I saved the items of insane power from the psycho space lady. ❞

❝ You can? And you just sat there listening to us jabber?! Do it already! Oh, great. We save the universe from disaster, but we're the ones that end up in prison?! ❞

❝ I just grabbed the stone and thought of somewhere safe. ❞

❝ What'd I tell ya? You need cell doors disarmed and opened? I'm your guy! ❞

❝ Been to more prisons in more galaxies than I can count. This? This is new... ❞

❝ Nothin' like a good old-fashioned cellblock brawl to make me feel right at home... ❞

❝ I hear ya, buddy. This sure brings back some memories, don't it? ❞

❝ Earth? Huh. I guess home is still my happy place... ❞

❝ Next time you teleport us across the galaxy, try to think of a beach instead! ❞

❝ Not that I'm complainin' ...but shouldn't a prison have, you know, guards? ❞

❝ You put me here! You buried me in a dark cell for life! Now, I'm gonna burry YOU ...dead or alive! ❞

❝ A teleportin' dog? Is this some kinda joke? ❞

❝ Of all the planets in the universe, for some reason, ours is the one that seems to be under attack frequently. ❞

❝ Why are we talking when we could be smashing? ❞

❝ Figures. Just consider yourself lucky that I've got a team of heroes on speed dial for missions of universal importance like this one. ❞

❝ I guess stopping a super-villain prison break is going to be the easiest part of our day, huh? ❞

❝ Is this the part where you bark orders at us then? ❞

❝ Oh, don't worry, little heroes. I have plenty more toys for you to play with! ❞

❝ Magic isn't for everyone. ❞

❝ Only one of us lives through this. Spoiler. It's me. ❞

❝ Free time is over, punks. Time for lights out. ❞

❝ Aw, come on! You have GOT to be kidding me! Let's make this count. I am NOT doing this a third time! Can we make this quick? ❞

❝ Not cool! This is totally what oppression looks like! I demand a phone call, a lawyer, and a fair trail! ❞

❝ When I get out of here, I'm really gonna let you have it! Just give me, like, ten, fifteen minutes to recover, okay? Thanks! ❞

❝ Sooo... What's new? Other than the fact that I totally just embarrassed myself in front of my idols... ❞

❝ Is "Nameless Villain" a common career choice over here? ❞

❝ Yeah, it may rip the timestream to shreds, but you gotta admit, it's pretty flarkin' hilarious! ❞

[hero-israel]

Oh that's so spot on, because like, what would an armed fortified Hawai'ian state have to do to secure its future and the resources necessary to safeguard that future? The Kingdom of Hawai'i was literally doing stuff like that before it was Annexed. The various Nations of Western North America waged bloody war on the colonists. They fought back. Japan literally became an empire to avoid the perceived threat of colonization (or irrelevance due to other colonial powers).

I'm a political realist at the end of the day. This is how countries/societies behave. This is how they've always behaved. It's tough to inject a modern sense of morality into it when it's almost always a zero sum game. Plus I can't be hypocritical and expect (in the case of Israel) Arabs to just quietly acquiesce because oh that's the moral thing to do for indigenous Justice. Like obviously they will advocate for themselves, and that inevitably includes the "No we're actually native here," argument. No matter who you are where you are when you are, you're going to feel like you belong there.

However I think it's very possible to blend realism with justice. Like you said, Israel's wars leave a surprisingly low body count (don't ever say that on twitter though if you value your mentions). And First Nations in the Americas wouldn't cleanse anyone on their lands. It doesn't make economic sense and plus it has the good optics of "See we're not like the people who oppressed us." It's entirely possible to approach this as "We are taking what's rightfully ours but we have no need to be cruel, or to disregard your rights. We want to include you."

But I'd say "never say never," because you just never know what you have to do when push comes to shove. Those hard decisions will come. The Kingdom of Hawai'i tried to westernize rapidly. Imagine if they had remained independent. Would they be immediately recognized as indigenous today like some other groups? Because that Hawai'ian state would probably more resemble Japan than the Saami peoples for example (The Kings of Hawai'i and Tonga and Samoa wanted to create an imperial federation after all).

Israel has had to make the hard choices for almost a century. It will naturally be the inspiration and the scapegoat simultaneously. It's the #oldestchildsyndrome unfortunately. But yes, I think that Israel could be doing more to loudly and proudly display this indigenous sovereignty angle, and advocate for other indigenous groups around the world. Especially in West Asia and North Africa. It would antagonize the Arab bloc for sure, and more importantly Turkey (both are professionals at victimizing themselves), but it would be a powerful statement.

I'm Hero-Israel and I approve this message.

[hmm-dont-know-really]

This blog is 18+, minors please block & dni

Rules:

No minors, no exceptions.

This is a nsfw blog and I'm bad at tagging, if you need your dash to be totally sfw or have triggers that need to be tagged absolutely every time, just don't follow. Interacting is still fine.

I block people based on their behavior, not their identifiers.

Asks and dms are open. Dms slightly preferred because I usually have clairifying questions. Its fine to just message me, I don't care if we've been interacting or not.

Info:

It's complicaited but I'm a cis bi woman for statistical purposes.

I'm almost 30, not looking for anything more than being friends if you're a lot younger than me.

I've got quite a bit of experience with kink & femdom (F/m), and I'm always happy to answer educational questions about those things, but I'm really here to talk to other queer people, not cis men.

I don't hate men tho, and this is not a "men dni" blog, if that bothers you feel free to block me.

Related to that, to me the point of femdom is systematic gender fuckery and destruction of the binary - in the context of my cis "het" relationships at least, might be down for selectively reinforcing the binary in gender affirming ways. If the kink we're doing doesn't ritually eviscerate at least one oppressive social structure, I don't want it.

If you want me to be talking about you when I talk about boys, then yes I'm talking about you; "boy" is a vibe to me, its not about gender or parts.

I'm autistic and I don't understand what a lot of wlw words mean, not enough to really use them. Anyone who wants to help me understand is welcome to my dms and a reward of their choice, everyone else can shut up and think about the pervasive ableism in the queer community before judging.

Generally when it comes to sex I'm into sub guys, sad wet pathetic little men, pretty boys (all boys are pretty), masc nonbinary and genderfucky people, and sometimes women if there's a power dynamic (usually a slightly toxic one), if they could defeat me, or if we're performing intricate rituals. Also I fall for other autistic girls hard and easily in a QPR way.

Look, I am a dom/top type person, but I am also shy as fuck, and I don't like persuing people when its not super clear they're into it. If you want me to give you horny attention, you gotta give some kind of consent. Posts addressed to the void or doms in general don't count.

I don't think I'm all that edgy in the grand scheme of things, but I've been around long enough to know that the distinction between "gentle" and "hard" kinks is purity culture crap. If you're still on that shit you're not gonna have a good time here.

A few things I can promise won't be here: excessive gore, (what I consider to be) body horror, needles, death, race play, disability fetishism, scat and vomit, and most "family" stuff (I allow the occasional title if its not the main focus of the post).

Things that probably will be here: femdom, queer and "straight" seeming stuff mixed together, fat positivity, hornyposting, some serious/political stuff, discussions about kink, horny fanfic, pretty kink toys and gear, autism posting, memes, etc.

[22degreehalo]

Imagine if aces and aros talked about gay people the way gay people talk about us.

"Don't forget: gay people are totally valid and they are welcome in the AIQ community!!! 😊 Sure, they might not experience aphobia like aces and aros do, but people shouldn't have to prove they're Oppressed Enough[tm] to be included! :)"

"To be honest, hating on gay people makes no sense to me at ALL lmao. Like aphobia I get, but for a straight person to insist that everyone MUST get a partner NO MATTER WHAT, and then throw a fit because it's the wrong kind of partner?! I don't know man, I just think it's only control freaks who could really be bothered, yknow?"

"And after 'Demi-Aces and Demi Gods' we are proud to announce our first ever gay panel! It's called "GG: homosexuality 101" and it'll answer any questions you might have about what it's like to be gay (no, they aren't all polyamorous!) ending with a rousing discussion about the place of the G within the AIQ+ community as a whole. Following that, we have 'Asexual fashion history'..."

"Oh my god I am SO tired of homophobia discourse. Like my guys literally NONE of this matters in the real world. Just log off and interact with your real-world community and touch grass, okay?"

"Um... no offence, but why is talking about gay people so important to you? We're discussing aspec oppression and you're very obviously derailing. :/ like it is just NOT the same thing. If you want to talk about gay issues (like I get that it could feel uncomfy when people expect you to have a different kind of partner than you want) make your own post, please."

"Oh, I get this question a LOT haha! Don't worry, it is SUPER common for young aspecs to invent gay attraction in an attempt to repress their own aspecness! If you ever decide that that's what happening, and you were just dealing with internalised aphobia, it's okay! You're still a valid aro/ace <3'

"But like. How... would 'homophobia' even work lmfao. Like you're being restricted from couples' benefits by?? Being in a couple the wrong way???? Literally nobody is going to throw you out of your home for having a child with your partner. 🙄 So unless you can provide ANY evidence that gay people are oppressed FOR BEING GAY (i.e. lacking m/f attraction AND having same-gender attraction SIMULTANEOUSLY) then uhhh maybe you should stop talking over people who are ACTUALLY oppressed. (No corrective rape doesn't count lmfao that is literally just aphobia.)"

"Welcome to AIQ pride 2023!!! Gays and lesbians are allowed but y'all are on thin fucking ice 🤪 Ugh it's just a joke lmfao. It's not serious. Jesus I wish y'all WERE oppressed sometimes, maybe you'd have an actual sense of humour 💀"

"Ummmm sorry, but can you take down your post? This celebrity is REALLY important to the aspec community and I really don't appreciate you implying he could be gay :/ Like he literally already said he doesn't like girls. What more do you want lmfao he's aroace. Why is it so important for you to erase that and force him into an amatonormative relationship? Creepy 😬"

"Sorry but I'm just not comfortable seeing talk about 'homophobia' on my post. I repressed my aroaceness for a really long time by trying to convince myself I was gay and it was super traumatic for me. But even if I hadn't you should've known how this reblog might come across to any young aspecs struggling to accept themselves."

"DNW: gay/lesbian characters. No offence but they're always boring ass issue fics written by teenagers trying to prove how Progressive they are. It's always so ridiculously forced and ooc. Like who CARES if you're gay anyway lmfao just go to a bar and have Good Allo Sex or something, you ain't special."

"Mmmm personally, I think that 'homo' and 'hetero' are more like modifiers, really...? I mean, what matters most is whether or not you're actually IN a relationship. The kind of relationship itself just doesn't really matter all that much. I mean, that makes sense, right? 'No shirt' is a wayyy bigger difference from 'blue shirt' than 'red shirt.' So personally I think homosexuality is valid but it's not an identity, it's just a modifier for allosexuality. :)"

"...ugh, look, what's probably going on here is there's some kind of confounding variable at work, like gay people are more likely to be younger (since it's a pretty new identity) so of course their overall wellbeing is lower. That's just logic. But it just doesn't make sense for gay people to be oppressed: they have their identity validated by straight people all the time. So unless you can explain how you can be constantly validated, but still oppressed, these numbers mean nothing."

[bittybug-sunflower-blog]

Chapter summary: learning to reconcile

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, gun and gang violence, and smoking

Word count: 3095

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 26

The road to Kiros stretched out before Seneca, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the dusky landscape. The car hummed softly beneath her, the only sound in the oppressive silence that filled the cabin. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as her mind replayed the events of the past few weeks in an endless loop. Jetto's face, his final moments, the grief that had consumed Beka—it all weighed heavily on her, a burden she could no longer carry alone.

The City of Kiros loomed on the horizon, and as she neared Biala's parents' place, the familiarity of the surroundings did little to ease the turmoil inside her. The house stood as it always had, yet tonight it felt different, almost foreign. Seneca pulled the car to a stop, the engine cutting out abruptly, leaving her in the suffocating quiet of the night. She sat there for a moment, gathering the fragments of her courage, before she finally stepped out and walked towards the house. She reached the front door, but before she could knock, it opened, revealing Biala standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with concern.

"Seneca?" Biala's voice was soft, a mix of surprise and worry. But it was the sight of Seneca's tear-streaked face that made her heart clench. She stepped out onto the porch, her hand instinctively reaching out to her wife.

Seneca's voice cracked, the weight of her grief finally breaking through. "Jetto... Jetto's gone." The words were like a release, the dam of her emotions finally breaking as she choked on her tears.

Biala didn't hesitate. She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Seneca, pulling her close. "Oh, Seneca..." she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of sorrow and love.

Seneca buried her face in Biala's shoulder, her body trembling as the sobs she had held back for so long finally erupted. "I'm sorry," she managed to say between the tears. "I'm so sorry, Biala. I've been so focused on work... I put it above you, above the boys... I'm so sorry."

Biala held her tighter, her hand gently stroking Seneca's hair. "Shh, it's okay, love. We're here. I'm here." She kissed Seneca's forehead, her own tears falling now, but her voice remained steady, a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions.

They pulled away briefly, Biala hand wiping Seneca's tear-stained cheeks, "Come home, I'll explain everything and tell you the truth. I promise."

Biala said nothing but smiled, it wasn't long before Isaac and Lon came running to the door.

They smiled when they yelled out, "Mom!" Seneca fell to her knees hugging the boys as her tears gently streamed from her cheeks.

The club's atmosphere was thick with smoke, the soft hum of jazz music filling the air as patrons lost themselves in the rhythm of the night. The low lights cast long shadows, giving the place an air of mystery that drew people in, seeking solace or sin. Jazzori stepped through the entrance, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting as she scanned the room. Valree was easy to spot, leaning casually against the wall near the bar, their eyes sharp as they watched the crowd. Their posture relaxed but ready. Jazzori made her way over, sliding onto a barstool beside Valree with a nod of acknowledgment.

"You always look like you're guarding a vault," Jazzori teased, signaling the bartender for a drink.

"Just doing my job," Valree replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "What are you doing here though? I took it that you attend the fancier bars."

Jazzori chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. "Then you don't know me at all."

"How's the case going?" Valree asked, her voice steady as she accepted the drink slid her way.

Jazzori sighed, swirling the amber liquid in her glass before taking a sip. "Still, no one wants to talk. It's like trying to get blood from a stone." She glanced at Valree. "Should you even be drinking on the job?"

"Shift ended the minute you walked in here, sweetheart," Valree teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

Jazzori rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Have you talked to Beka?"

Valree nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah, brought her some liquor, and we just sat there in silence. Sometimes, that's all you can do."

Jazzori took a larger gulp of her drink, feeling the burn slide down her throat. "I go over to update her on the case, let her know what progress we're making. But the look in her eyes... it says justice won't be done until Pre Vizsla is dead."

Valree sighed, taking a swig of her drink. "That's just asking for trouble."

Jazzori's gaze shifted, catching sight of three men at a table across the room. Their laughter cut through the jazz music, carefree and loud, a stark contrast to the somber thoughts weighing on her mind. "Speaking of trouble, look over there." She nodded towards the trio.

Valree followed her gaze, narrowing her eyes as she recognized the men. "Bad Batch's cousins, right? The ones who were staking out at Gruno's place?"

Jazzori nodded. "That's them. But what are they doing here?"

Valree's expression shifted to one of mischief. "The real question is, which one do you think you can get back at your apartment?"

Jazzori blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me? I don't do hookups."

"Sure, you don't," Valree drawled, her grin widening. "Wanna make a bet?"

Jazzori raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite herself. "I'm not sure I like where this is going, but what do I get for winning?"

"Bragging rights," Valree shot back, her tone playful yet confident.

Jazzori considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "Let's see then."

Valree moved with purpose, leaving Jazzori at the bar. She watched as Valree approached the trio with a smirk. Jazzori leaned back, drink in hand, legs crossed, and observed the interaction with a mix of amusement and anticipation.

"Evening, fellas," Valree greeted, sliding into the booth with ease. "How about another round, on me?"

The man at the center of the trio, grinned. "Can't say no to a free drink."

Valree's smirk widened. "Say, aren't you related to the Marauder Family?"

"That we are," he replied with a proud smile. "I'm Rex, that's Gregor, and Wolffe." He gestured to his companions, who either waved or gave a curt nod.

Valree glanced over her shoulder, gesturing for Jazzori to join them. Jazzori chuckled, shaking her head in mild disbelief as she strolled over, taking a seat beside Rex while Valree occupied the other side of the round booth.

"So, what are you pretty things looking for?" Gregor asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

"Jazzori and I have a little bet going on," Valree smirked.

"What kind of bet?" Rex asked, his interest piqued.

"Oh, you'll know," Valree replied with a playful wink.

"Another round, then," Wolffe chimed in, holding up his glass.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks, the atmosphere light, and the laughter genuine. As the night wore on, Gregor and Wolffe eventually succumbed to the effects of the alcohol, slumping over the table in a drunken stupor.

"You know how to hold your liquor," Jazzori remarked, her gaze shifting to Rex.

"I only had two drinks," Rex admitted with a chuckle. "I have to be the sober one for these two."

Valree leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Wanna know what the bet was?"

Rex looked at her, curiosity and amusement flickering in his eyes. Jazzori leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered the details. Rex's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and intrigue crossing his features. "Your place, then?" he asked, looking at Jazzori.

Both Valree and Jazzori exchanged flirtatious smirks. Jazzori took Rex's hand, guiding him out of the booth with a gentle tug.

"Aye," Valree called to the bartender. "Call a cab for these two and make sure they get home safely." She tossed a generous amount of cash onto the bar before following Jazzori and Rex into the cool night air.

The trio walked down the dimly lit street, the city's nightlife humming around them. They made their way to the curb, where Jazzori hailed a cab with a quick wave of her hand. Rex glanced between the two, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation bubbling under the surface.

As the cab pulled up, they slid into the backseat, the close quarters heightening the charged atmosphere. Jazzori settled in first giving the driver her address, her eyes meeting Valree's with a silent understanding. Valree gave a subtle nod, then leaned closer to Rex, their breath mingling in the shared space. The cab started moving, but inside the car, time seemed to slow down.

Valree was the first to close the gap, their lips brushing against Rex's in a tentative kiss that quickly deepened. Jazzori watched for a moment, a small smile playing on her lips before she joined in, her hand resting on Rex's shoulder as she leaned in to kiss him as well. The kiss was slow and deliberate, each of them savoring the moment, the connection they were building.

The cab ride seemed to stretch on forever, yet it was over too soon. When they finally reached Jazzori's apartment, the three of them stepped out, breathless and slightly flushed. It was clear that whatever boundaries existed before were now a thing of the past.

Inside Jazzori's apartment, the door clicked shut behind them, sealing away the outside world. The tension that had been simmering all night were going to be released. Jazzori turned to face Valree, her eyes searching theirs for a brief moment. Valree stepped closer, closing the distance between them, their presence warm and steady. Without a word, Valree cupped Jazzori's face gently, their thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But then, as Jazzori responded, it deepened, the world around them fading into nothing. Valree's lips were warm, tender, yet firm, and Jazzori felt herself melting into the kiss, every inch of her skin tingling with the electricity of the moment. Rex sat in nearby chair watching the two with bated breath as he felt a tightness in his pants.

They parted for a breath, their foreheads resting together, both of them smiling slightly as they looked into each other's eyes. Jazzori's hands found their way to Valree's waist, pulling them just a bit closer, as if trying to hold onto this moment for as long as possible.

Valree smiled softly, their eyes filled with a mix of affection and something deeper. "I've been wanting to do that for a while," they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.

Jazzori's smile widened, her fingers tracing small circles on Valree's back. "So have I," she admitted, her voice equally soft, the warmth of the moment lingering between them.

The two started pulling their clothes off, till they were both stripped into their underwear. They then looked at Rex who only chuckled. He stood up and joined the two. He started kissing Valree's neck as his hand started fondling Jazzori's body.

The three knew that the night was only beginning for them, a slow burn of desire igniting between them as they exchanged heated glances of what was to come hanging thick in the air, drawing them closer with every passing second.

The sharp knocks at the door that morning made Jazzori rush, struggling to slip into a robe. Her fingers fumbled with the belt as she hurried across the room. She opened the door to see Seneca, Beka, and Wrecker.

Seneca stood in the doorway, arms crossed and a bemused smile on her face. "You weren't at the precinct," she stated, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Uh, sorry, long night," Jazzori mumbled, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand, still half-wrapped in a hastily donned robe.

"Yeah, well, a case is about to take a big dip—" Seneca began, but her words were interrupted.

Beka, who had been peering over Seneca's shoulder, caught sight of the chaotic scene inside the apartment. "Valree?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Valree struggling to pull on their clothes, their expression a mix of confusion and embarrassment.

Valree's head snapped up at the sound of their name, and the realization of being caught in such a state hit them. Rex, who was in a similarly disheveled state, quickly scrambled to cover himself, his face turning a shade of red.

Beka's lips curled into a smile, and then she burst into laughter—a sound so rare and freeing that it was almost startling. The sudden eruption of mirth caught Seneca and Wrecker off guard, their own expressions shifting from surprise to amusement.

"It's not funny, Hardt!" Valree called out from within the apartment, their voice muffled by the door but filled with exasperation.

Seneca, her laughter bubbling uncontrollably, had to cover her mouth to stifle the sound, "Ah I see now what you mean by long night."

Jazzori's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, a deep crimson spreading across her face as she hurriedly pulled the robe tighter around her. "Give me thirty minutes and we can talk," she said, her voice edged with both urgency and mortification as she shut the door firmly.

As the door clicked shut, Beka's laughter continued to echo down the hallway, a genuine, cathartic sound that seemed to lift the weight from her shoulders. Wrecker trailed behind her, his own grin widening as he followed the sound of Beka's laughter. They made their way down the hallway, Beka's laughter slowly subsided into a series of soft, contented giggles. It was a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere that had characterized her days, and Wrecker couldn't help but flicker a smile.

The group gathered outside by their cars. Hunter, Echo, Tech, and Crosshair stood in casual conversation, each lost in their own thoughts. They glanced up as Beka and Wrecker approached, the former still caught up in a fit of laughter. Seneca, trailing slightly behind, wore a goofy grin that spoke of a shared amusement only she fully understood.

The squad exchanged puzzled looks, their confusion growing as they saw Beka's uncontrollable mirth and Wrecker's bemused expression. The unusual sight of Beka laughing—a rare occurrence since Jetto's death—piqued their curiosity.

"What's going on?" Tech asked, his curiosity piqued.

Hunter's eyes widened as he took in the sight of Beka's continued laughter. "Did something happen?"

Before they could inquire, Rex, Valree, and Jazzori emerged from the building, their disheveled appearance and walk of shame clearly marking them as the source of the earlier chaos. Rex rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. His face was a blend of embarrassment and annoyance, while Valree and Jazzori wore expressions of resigned amusement. The Bad Batch exchanged knowing glances, piecing together the situation from the clues in their friends' appearances and the earlier commotion.

Echo raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on Rex. "Looks like someone had an interesting night."

Valree, catching the unspoken query, couldn't help but add, "Oh, just letting Beka have a bit of fun before dealing with our usual chaos."

Hunter leaned against his car, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You have fun last night?" He said with an evil smirk on his face as he looked at Rex.

Rex, clearly flustered, gave his cousin Hunter a playful shove. "Shut it," he said, his cheeks flushing a shade darker. "I'm going to check on Gregor and Wolffe. They're probably wondering where I went."

"You gonna have a lot of explaining to do when you gets back." Hunter pointed out.

Rex nodded rubbing the back of his neck as he hailed a cab with an exaggerated wave, desperate to make a hasty exit. The cab arrived quickly, and Rex climbed in with one last, sheepish glance back at his friends. The vehicle pulled away, leaving the others behind with a lingering sense of amusement.

Valree frowned. "Laugh it up."

Beka wiped tears from her eyes, struggling to control her laughter. "Sorry, but you always tease me with who I have fun nights with," she said, still chuckling. "It's good to see you're all... well, having a fun night."

Echo and Crosshair exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by the sudden shift in Beka's mood. Crosshair shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Haven't seen Hardt laugh like that in a while."

"Neither have we," Echo added, a hint of a smile forming on his usually stoic face.

Tech leaned in toward Hunter, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "I think we've just witnessed a breakthrough."

Hunter nodded, a rare look of satisfaction on his face.

"So, what did you mean the case took a dip?" Jazzori asked, trying to shift the focus off last night's escapades.

Everyone became serious for a moment, the gravity of the situation settling over them.

"Pre Vizsla was killed last night in his cell," Seneca said, her voice heavy with the news.

"How...?" Jazzori's question trailed off, her eyes wide with concern.

"Shanked," Beka answered. "Clearly, Death Watch has inside men everywhere—even in prison."

"Damnit!" Jazzori swore, frustration evident in her tone.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Valree asked, eyebrows raised in confusion.

"No, it's not," Jazzori said sharply. "Vizsla knew where Maul is, and now we've lost our chance to get that information."

"What about the others we caught?" Echo interjected, trying to grasp the full scope of the problem.

"They're not talking," Seneca replied. "They're scared they'll get the same treatment as Vizsla."

Hunter, crossing his arms, scowled. "This just complicates things further. We've got to figure out how to proceed without Vizsla's cooperation. If Death Watch has that much influence, they're going to make our lives hell."

Jazzori sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. "I was hoping for a break, not another roadblock. We need to find another lead on Maul. Something we can use before this whole investigation falls apart."

Valree, trying to offer some optimism, said, "Well, at least we know they're scared. That means we've got leverage, even if it's slim."

Seneca nodded in agreement. "We've got to keep pushing. We can't let them win. We need to get creative with our tactics and stay one step ahead of them."

"Damn right," Wrecker said with enthusiasm.

[gengrassubaru1a]

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Subaru dealership near me

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[rabbitindisguise]

Whenever I see someone talking in defense of using functioning labels or support labels it's just like, I can picture in my mind the kind of kid in special ed who this reminds me of. The kids who complained that we were being disrespectful when we trashed talk the abusive teachers aids or got mad about ableism from other students. I don't think people realize that not all special education experiences were created equal, and that someone who went through the suffering of special ed might not actually believe that it was a bad thing and think that more people should be forced into special ed ("because I turned out okay" <- is a huge jerk to other autistics)

I don't know what to do about it now that I'm like, "being mean to people is wrong." (Traditional reaction: heckling (me) and cold shoulders (everyone else).) Ideally I'd like to get through to people that being in cahoots with their therapist or whoever isn't actually going to help them make friends with other autistics, and tattling on people fighting against oppressive systems isn't going to win them free snacks, but I fundamentally don't understand this point of view and I don't know if I ever will. It's as foreign as someone believing that "everything happens for a reason" or that "justice always prevails (so people suffering deserve it)." I'm much more of a "if something is broken, fix it (people suffering counts as something broken)" and "authority figures blocking people from help are kind of inherently uncool and morally questionable especially when people's lives are at stake" kind of guy, I dunno. I have a strong sense of justice, that's not the problem, I just don't trust or believe in authority and a lot of autistics have been talking about how Important and Reasonable these things are (which I find almost inherently incorrect, since I think UBI and home aids should be available for free to whoever needs it forever).

Because fundamentally support labels are observations of what authority figures are willing to give you based on if they think you deserve it and depending on how closely you match their imaginary picture of "need." It's like how I "didn't need" paratransit until I got awarded it, and then "stop needing it" when I just never got around to applying again but my need has stayed consistent. Autism to me is fundamentally about what makes you feel comfortable, and if autism helps then you're autistic. Autism isn't a label to be foisted onto someone without their consent, and it's not one to take away just because they "seem" "normal." The autistic community I've observed on Tumblr (especially in the early years where I developed an understanding of myself as nd before I figured out I'm autistic) is so valuable because it's not what doctors think about us (other than complaining lmao) it's about how the community is a positive force in our lives because it makes us feel accepted for who we are, and frames autism as a good thing

How do I explain that to a guy who thinks a therapist saying we're wrong and autism is bad is objectively more correct?? I have no idea where to even begin. The biggest issue this stuff causes is how Going To Special Ed is being seen as a sort of "listen to marginalized voices and don't contradict anything they say or use critical thinking at all" type of trump card. People will say things that are wildly incongruous to social justice but it's folded into the discourse because people think that everyone comes out of there thinking that allism is wrong. Some of the most allist people I've known have been autistics. Getting diagnosed young, and years and years of special education, is super traumatic. I was lucky that I had people who cared and who taught me I was a person deserving of respect. It's not like how some women grow up to be feminists like "this shit SUCKS I deserve better" it's more like the kind of facism tokens experience where it's like "this sucking is important because I don't deserve better."

I'd caution people against shilling for functioning labels or support labels but I know that's goong to be hard with the self appointed DSM hall monitors. That's between you and your fight against the system, imo. If you can eat at the places we're going to, if you need a moment to go be nonverbal in a closet, if you need to go have a meltdown in peace, or need a communication board, or need to not be hugged, those are important. "High functioning/low functioning" and "low support/high support" is nonsensical in a space where general autistic concepts are integrated into how we run things because it smooths over a lot of problems. Social spaces where stimming openly was accepted, wearing headphones in public to block out noise, or other things that are more visibly autistic but make people's ability to avoid meltdowns soooo much easier can radically change how easily a neurotypical allistic can clock your autism. We just don't need support labels when someone who had meltdowns everyday suddenly has less because they can fidget openly, only eat their same foods, and don't get expected to hug people or talk about things that aren't their special interest, and the meltdowns are redirected and safer from autism accepting coping mechanisms- that's just what healing looks like.

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

I Think I Saw You

Ship: Eve Fletcher x Reader

Summary: You walk in on Eve doing something you that even in your wildest fantasies you'd never pictured her doing.

Word Count: 2.5k

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings: smut, spanking, fingering, fluff

“Eve?” You call out, knocking in her front door as you twist the knob, opening it. “Are you home?”

You don't hear anything, and shrug, walking in before shutting the door behind you.

You've always had a long standing invitation to make the Fletcher home your home, ever since Eve had spotted you walking home in the pouring rain when you had been in middle school and had offered to drive you home.

You had seen the Fletchers around, and had even gotten asked to babysit for them once before your father had screamed at you for considering it.

The Fletcher house had become your escape from your own oppressive household, and by the time you had hit senior year, you considered Eve to be a good friend, despite the age gap.

You also at that point had developed a budding crush on her, one you had desperately did everything to hide that you had it.

Now that you're older, and already working on your masters, the age gap seems less huge, and you no longer felt any awkwardness with the way you interacted with the older woman, despite the fact you still feel little butterflies whenever you're around her.

The closer you get to the kitchen, the more your ears are able to pick up on the sound of something playing on a device, and you let out a breath of air, relieved Eve is home.

You want to talk to her about possibly helping wi-

You stop dead in your tracks.

Eve is laid across a kitchen table chair, her ass bare as she has her pants and underwear pulled down to around her knees, and from your angle, you can clearly see she's watching porn.

Her hand comes down onto her backside, mimicking what she's watching, and grunts at the impact.

You can't see her face, but you don't have to.

You have view enough.

You've fantasized about your pretty milf friend more than once, but you've never expected to ever witness something like this.

“E-Eve?” You splutter out.

Immediately the laptop slams shut and the older woman nearly topples off of the chair as she twists to look at you.

“Oh my god!”

Her whole face is flushed, and her pupils are blown wide.

“I-” You don't know where to start. “What… What are you doing?”

Eve seems just as caught off guard as you are, and her mouth opens and closes.

“Were- were you just-”

You cut yourself off, unable to bring yourself to utter the word “spank”.

The silence is deafening, and you're both frozen in shock.

Your eyes flick from Eve’s face to her exposed ass, which has ever so slightly pinked, telling you Eve had been doing… Whatever this was for a while before you had walked in.

“You-” You swallow hard, nervous. “You do realize you're not going to get the- the feeling you're after on your own right?”

Eve flushes a deeper shade of red and avoids your eyes.

Your heartbeat is finally starting to even back out, and you're made aware of a steady, pulsing need between your legs.

“Eve.”

Your voice is firmer now.

Something tells you that she has the presence of mind to either kick you out or cover herself up, and that indicates…

Well.

“Is this your first time… Exploring?”

She finally meets your eyes, and she ever so slightly nods, seemingly at a loss for words.

You feel a rush of confidence.

Here's a chance to act on all the fantasies you've ever had about the beautiful woman before you.

“Would you like some help with that?”

Your voice comes out low, sultry, and Eve's breath hitches.

You smirk, and put an extra sway into your hips as you walk over to where she's laying across the chairs.

“Why don't you get up and strip for me, baby? I promise I can make you feel so good.”

Eve's face grows impossibly redder.

“I-I don't- we're not- you're-”

Your laughter at her struggling for words makes her stop trying to talk.

“You’re adorable.”

Eve blinks.

“Do you know how often I've thought about you like this, a hand between my thighs?” You husk out, maintaining eye contact with the older woman.

“You were my gay awakening, Eve. It was like I got run over by a truck one day when I realized how badly I wanted you to kiss me.”

Eve honest to god whimpers.

“Come on… I can see you want to. I bet it's been too long since you've felt someone else like this.”

Eve bites her lip, and after a few moments of consideration, she wobbly stands, pulling off her sweats and underwear in one motion, before shucking her shirt off.

You resist groaning at the sight of her body being bared before you, but it's a close thing.

Never in your wildest imaginings did you even come close to picturing exactly how beautiful she is.

When her bra drops to the floor, you turn the chair around, sitting down in clear invitation.

“Lay over my lap, alright?”

Eve looks extremely nervous, and you smile gently at her.

“I promise sweet thing, I know exactly what you're trying to feel, and I can give that to you, if you let me.”

You aren't sure what it was, but at your words she crosses the room towards you, and stiffly settles herself across your lap.

“Good girl.” You whisper, and you can feel her shiver beneath you, your fingers gently dancing up and down her spine, and some of her stiffness disappears.

“If you need us to stop, just say so, okay?”

“Okay.”

You've never heard Eve sound so small, so vulnerable, and it sends a thrill through you, making you suddenly dizzy with the realization that you have Eve Fletcher bent over your lap, waiting for you to spank her.

“Do you think you'll be able to count for me?” You ask in a low tone, your fingers trailing dangerously close to running over her backside.

Her breath hitches again, before she lets out a low moan.

“Is that a yes?”

It's like her ability to speak has evaporated, and she whines instead of giving you a proper answer, and you can feel yourself growing wetter.

“Awww…” You coo. “Has your brain gone all fuzzy just from being laid over my lap? How sweet.”

“Please!”

The word tumbles from Eve’s mouth, and you can't help but give in.

“Alright, sweet girl. On three, I'll spank you.”

You lift your hand in preparation.

“One… Two… Three.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounds through the room, as does the pornographic moan that comes from Eve, and she involuntarily bucks her hips.

“Liked that, did you? Dirty girl.” You laugh as Eve moans again at your words, and you slap her ass a second time, causing her to squirm.

Your free hand wraps around her middle, keeping her still.

“How many more times should you be spanked, hm? How often have you daydreamed about being turned over someone's lap like a naughty little slut?”

When Eve doesn't answer, she cries out with pleasure as you smack her again.

“Answer me.” You demand.

“I- I don't know!” She gasps out.

“Hm…” You pretend to ponder. “You don't know… Would it be safe to presume that you've fantasized about this at least… Oh, I don't know, twenty times?”

After a moment of silence, you reach over with the hand that's not wrapped around her middle and tangle it through her hair, forcing her head backwards so you can see how red she's turned.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Do I make myself clear?”

You can feel how she tries to nod her head, but all she gets for her trouble is you gripping her hair tighter.

“Do I make myself clear?” You repeat, your tone hard.

“Y-yes! You're clear!” Eve forces out.

“Good.” Your voice has turned husky. “Now answer me. Have you fantasized about being spanked like this at least twenty times before?”

Eve whimpers. “Yes.”

“Then that's how many times I'll be spanking you. And I want you to count. Otherwise, I might lose my place and have to start all over again.”

Eve is silent, but you hadn't asked a question, and so you let it slide.

“Count.” You reiterate, before you detangle your fingers from her hair.

Eve moans when you spank her.

“O-one.” She breathlessly gets out.

“Good girl.” You murmur, before continuing.

“Two.” She moans.

With each spank, Eve makes another pretty noise, and she dutifully counts.

It makes you throb with want, especially because you can feel how wet she is. She's dripping onto your jeans, and you're sure when she gets up there'll be a nice sized wet patch.

“S-s-sixteen.” She stutters through her whine, her whole body wiggling as she desperately tries to find some friction.

“You're doing so well, beautiful girl.” You praise, and she whimpers in response.

Your head is practically spinning from the rush you're getting off of this, and you bite your lip as you groan.

You bring your hand down in a firm smack, and Eve gasps out.

“Oh, fuck!”

You gently rub your hand over her ass, humming.

“What number?” You prompt.

“Seventeen.”

Eve's voice is rough, and you can't help but slip your hand a little lower along her ass, and she whines.

“No- don't-”

“Don't what, sweet thing? Feel how wet you are?” You smirk. “I can feel how you're dripping onto my leg, slutty girl.”

She whines, and you decide to forgo the last three spanks, and instead you retract your arm from around her middle so that you can spread her cheeks apart, and you gasp at how puffy her pussy is.

“Oh, Eve. You poor thing. Would you like me to make this feel better for you?”

When you don't get an answer, you shift her a little, giving yourself easier access so that you can spank her directly on her cunt, and the noise that spills from her lips is obscene.

“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

Eve whines again, and wiggles.

“I can't do anything until you say yes, sweetheart.” You gently chide, your hand coming back between her thighs, this time to glide your fingers through her folds.

“Yes.”

Her voice is heavy with need, and she sounds like she's on the verge of tears with it.

“How do we ask to be touched?” You remove your fingers, now slick with Eve’s wetness, and slap her ass again.

Her moan echoes in the kitchen.

“Please! Please touch me.”

“Awww… Good girl.” You coo. “You just want to be a fucking slut, huh?”

Eve whimpers, and you laugh.

“You're so desperate, look at you. I'd bet that you're fucking slutty hole will take whatever I'll give it without any problems… Should we test that theory?”

“Please, please touch me. Make me feel good.” Eve begs, and you can feel yourself growing wetter at the sound of it.

“Anything for you, pretty girl.” You say tenderly, before slipping one, two, three fingers into Eve, and she groans, bucking her hips.

You start off at an agonizingly slow pace, relishing in the way the older woman trembles beneath your touch, her plaintive begs and whines making you groan in turn.

“You're so wet, baby. This fucking greedy pussy of yours takes my fingers so well, you're such a fucking whore.”

You speed up your pace, and Eve drips down around your fingers, the sound of her sopping wet cunt filling the air, and your head grows heedy with the scent of her sex.

“God.” You groan. “You're fucking perfect, taking me so well, listen to how fucking desperate you are. Are you going to cum for me? Yeah? You wanna prove to me that you're a slutty little bitch? Gonna cum around my fingers in your fucking kitchen while you're bent over my lap like a dirty little whore?”

You can feel how she starts to flutter around you, can feel how close she is, and you slide your spare hand up and under, harshly groping at one of her tits, and Eve throws her head back and screams as she orgasms hard around you, her hips grinding wildly downwards in an attempt to ride out the waves of pleasure, and the sight is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot as well, despite how untouched you've gone.

“Fuck baby, you're so fucking beautiful like this. Fuck.”

Eve pants as she comes down from her high, and she whimpers when you retract your fingers from where they had been buried deep inside of her.

You bring your fingers up to your mouth and can't contain your wanton moan at the taste of her, and you know with complete certainty that you'll never be able to get enough of her.

“You taste so good, holy shit.” You say to her, and Eve cranes her head around to stare at you with an empty gaze, her face flushed deeply.

You smile softly at her, and run a hand through her hair.

She melts under your touch, her eyes gently fluttering shut, and you can't help the way your heart wells with emotion.

“Are you okay, Eve?” You ask.

“Mhm.” She hums.

“We gotta clean you off, honey.” You say.

“I know.”

“If I promised to stay, will you get up?” You try.

“Mmm…” Eve hums again.

“That's not an answer, sweet thing.”

Eve opens her eyes, and makes a motion to roll over in your lap, and your reaction time is a second too slow, and the older woman goes crashing to the floor.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Ow… Yeah… I'm… I'm okay. Sorry, my head feels… Fuzzy. Not from falling! From… From before.”

It's like a light bulb has been switched on in your head, even as you slide off the chair onto your knees to be sure Eve is really okay.

“Fuzzy like floating?”

Eve’s blue eyes draw you in.

“Mhm. Feels nice.”

You smile before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

“You have no idea what you're experiencing, do you?” You guess.

“Do you?”

Eve looks full of wonderment and in that moment you knew you were fucked.

You're head over heels for this woman, you're old crush coming rushing back tenfold, and of all the things to happen in this kitchen today, this is what causes your heart to start pounding in earnest.

“Yeah, honey.” You try so hard not to let your voice crack with your realization. “But we have plenty of time for that later. The floor is cold. And dirty. And a bath will be warm and clean.”

Eve's eyes brighten at the thought of a warm bubble bath.

“You'll run me a bath?” She excitedly asks.

You laugh, and move, gesturing that Eve should follow you.

“Of course I will. Aftercare is very important.”

Eve looks delighted, and you gently pull her close so you can whisper in her ear.

“Let me take care of you.”

[ufonaut]

As an asexual, I've always read Connor as Ace. I don't think this comic infantilized him either, I think it's mature to want to want to be in a relationship to talk to someone and honestly as an asexual we get told what we want is childish a lot because wanting sex is so closely associated with adultness by society.

Music meister works as a villain for me because he's loud and bold while Connor is quiet and not quippy or performative and the whole story is about him trying to find the right words to communicate, which is something he experiences a lot as a character and also something that's difficult for asexuals. I've come out to my mum three times and she still doesn't know what it means. I think there's definitely a way to read that as being about sexuality but it's not what occurred to me until I saw your post.

There's a lot of nuanced conversation which needs to happen around how asexuality fits into queer identity and how we can talk about our identity without further marginalising sexual gay people, but I don't think that labelling people homophobic for enjoying one story which feels authentically about us is helpful. I'm also not saying you're wrong but there has to be nuance and I just really, really don't want things to become more fraught in the queer community than they are already. I know you want to vent about feeling hurt by this story but I think conversation is what we need.

Sorry, I know this probably reads as patronising and I'm sure you're getting all sorts of hate right now so I understand if you don't want to respond to this or if I just make you angrier.

it's not a matter of making me angrier, it's that i sincerely can't be bothered to take this in good faith when you're leaning on the same homophobic talking points the story itself does and the vast majority of ace people on tumblr generally do.

first and foremost, there is no queer community. do not call strangers slurs for the fun of it or, at the very least, do not count me in a group of people you choose to refer to with a slur. to go straight to the heart of the issue though, i don't believe ace people are by default (as in: without being otherwise gay/bi/trans) part of the lgbt community and their experiences run parallel to gay people but are not by any means identical. you are not systematically oppressed for not having sex, end of.

now, let's get into it one by one:

"I think it's mature to want to want to be in a relationship to talk to someone and honestly as an asexual we get told what we want is childish a lot because wanting sex is so closely associated with adultness by society" -- because the rest of us don't talk to our partners and don't enjoy spending time together? it's the phrasing of it (i don't believe anyone over the age of fifteen has ever felt the need to tell someone about their AWESOME DAY over ICE CREAM in those exact words) that infantilizes connor, not his desires, but there's also quite a lot to be said about your immediate leap to assuming you're oh-so-superior for wanting to have a conversation with your partner.

"Music meister works as a villain for me because he's loud and bold while Connor is quiet and not quippy or performative" -- oh, i'm sorry, i didn't realise not a single other preexisting comic book villain is loud and bold. it just had to be a character created specifically for a gay man, huh? a character who does not actually have a single line in this story and exists solely to represent the 'choir' connor is apparently an 'aberration' to?

"I think conversation is what we need" -- no, goodbye forever. take a look at one of the other millions of asks i've answered.

(and for those tuning in late, we're discussing connor's mega homophobic story in the pride special)

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ A LOT OF WORK TO DO ❜

with Marcus Álvarez.

Request: What about Marcus tryna set one of the Mayans up with reader, but she likes Marcus so she says no but doesn't give a reason, then eventually she admits she only has eyes for him??

BY @chibsytelford

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 2.3k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author, I found it on Google.

Masterlist.

“I think you are his type, Coco”. Marcus says, making the crew break into laughs.

“Nah, Padrino, we're just friends”.

“You're the only one which she goes around, hermano”. Angel adds clicking his tongue, before having a sip from his drink. “(Y/N) has been working here for the last year, and we don't know if she's ever had a single boyfriend”.

“Maybe sh—”.

“Believe me, she's not”. Bishop shakes his head laughing, stopping as soon as you come into the clubhouse.

“What's that funny?” You say, noticing the silent installed between all the Mayans.

“We think that… Coco and you should have a formal… date”. Marcus says, having a drag from his cig.

Licking your lips while you take off your bag to place it over the bar, you turn at him somewhat frowned. Rubbing your eyes with two fingers and a snort stuck on your throat, you cross both arms on your chest. You're a little tired of having to hear bullshit like that, plus, that they don't understand that between men and women could exist a healthy friendship.

“He's just my friend”.

“I said so, mami”.

“Look, we just say it for your good, mija, don't be angry”.

“For my good, stop talking 'bout shit you don't know, trying to push me into every fucking man that comes by that door. Because, surprise! Maybe I'm already in love with someone else, since the day I met him, but he's so, so, so fucking dumb that he hasn't noticed it yet”. Their mouths drop to the floor with widened eyes. “I could fucking wear a poster saying it and, even then, he wouldn't notice”.

Now, you're pissed off by Marcus' attitude. You were fine with the idea of not being the kind of girl he wants by her side. Maybe too young, maybe too curious, maybe too energetic. But seeing him trying to push you into another man gets you out of your calm. Frowning at them and making sure they're not going to say anything else, you just nod before crossing the hallway to your room, so you can change your clothes to start working at the scrapping.

Once that you're ready you step out from the dorm, tying your hair on a high pony-tail and keeping your rings inside a pocket. When you're back in the bar, you find some of Vicki's girls already there, hanging with the guys. But who gets your attention is that bitch that is always around Marcus, trying to catch the opportunity, now sitting on his lap and laughing at his shit.

“Look at you, Padrino, you're the one who never loses time”. You say with a bitter and sarcastic tone of voice, confusing him as you were waiting for.

Leading your steps towards the main office, greeting Chuckie with a gentle hug, you begin your work. It's too hot outside and having to do an inventory of the new cars that came during the last month, you decided to wear your black cap on your way to the last rows of scrap. You can't avoid thinking once and again about what happened some minutes ago, trying to not imagine that maybe it's not the first time the crew has that conversation. Marcus looked so participative that it's starting to hurt you somehow. Shaking your head, you start to write down the license plates and car models, in addition to the color.

Placing the notebook under your arm, you have a sip from the bottle of water, resting your back against a car in the shade. Bowing your head down, closing your eyes for a second, you hear a throat being cleared close to you. His scent is so unmistakable that you don't need to look at him to know who is.

“How can I help you, Padrino?” You ask, raising your opened eyes towards him.

“We didn't want to bother you, mija”.

“If this is an apology… Cool, I don't need'et”. You just reply pursing your lips.

“We were kidding”.

“It didn't seem like”. You're trying to keep calm, standing up to continue with your task, so you can go back to the office.

“I assumed it's one of us”. Stopping dead your steps, you turn around with a raised eyebrow.

“Déjalo, ¿sí? No voy a platicar contigo de ello”. (Forget it, okay? I'm not going to talk with you about it).

“Así que se trata de mí”. (So it's about me). He can't help but chuckle, placing his hands tangled under his abdomen.

Narrowing your eyes with your heart about to dead, you give him your back sighing, writing down the numbers from a red Mustang almost destroyed.

“Maybe I noticed something, but I thought it was just an illusion. So I didn't care”. With that confession, Marcus gets your attention. “When you know I'm coming, you use that perfume that smells like heaven”.

“I use it everyday”.

“No, you don't”. He laughs somewhat loud, feeling your cheeks burning. “Because when you don't know that I'm coming, you don't use it. And when you walk around me, I notice it. And that really fucks me up, because I love that smell”.

“Mere coincidence”.

“C'mon, reina. You can't lie to me”. He's walking closer in the meantime that he speaks, stopping him with a corner of your notebook pressing his chest.

“I have work to do, Padrino”. You just say, not knowing why the hell you don't jump into him. “As soon as I finish, as soon as I can leave”.

“Good, but you didn't say ‘no’”.

“'Bout what?”

“About that it's me who you are in love with”.

“Work. To. Do. Padrino”. You repeat, pointing his chest this time.

“Don't worry. I am going to be waiting for you at the office, until you finish your ‘work to do’”.

You have been praying all the prayers you know, going upstairs, to not find Marcus there. Talking about your feelings is something you're not used to, and less with someone like him, who looks like he's about to shoot you or something like that. Opening the door, you can sigh alleviated when you notice that it's empty, just like the bathroom. Taking off the cap and rubbing your forehead with the back of your left hand, you leave the notebook over the desk.

“DID YOU FINISH?”

The scream behind you makes you, literally, jump. You turn at him, throwing your cap straight to El Padrino. But you get a little self-absorbed hearing his laugh, a childish one. That laugh is so natural that bristles your skin and gives you some chills.

“Pinche cabrón…” (Fucking asshole). You mumble, frowning.

“Did you finish, or not?”

“You're so fucking annoying…”

“C'mon… You like to have my attention, don't you?”

“Jeez, stop”. You almost sob covering your face with both hands.

“Not until you accept to have a date with me”. He says chuckling yet, grabbing your wrists looking for your eyes. “You, me, my bike, the road, some mexican food… I think it's a good plan”.

“Okay…” You just say wrinkling your nose ashamed, without being able to believe that it is really happening.

“You don't sound excited, reina”.

“I'm trying to not die because of my nerves”.

“Good, work on that! I will pick you up tonight, if you are still alive, of course”.

No, you weren't expecting him to take you to a restaurant. He doesn't look like that kind of man, and you're more basic than that. And he finds out that you preferred that date, than another, when he sees the happy look installed on your face carrying a box full of different tacos. Sitting on a picnic table, you open it, to place it between both over the wood. You're really hungry and that food smells so good, that you can't wait to have a small piece from one of them under his eyes and a funny smile on his lips.

“Why didn't you tell me anything?” Marcus asks you, offering you a beer and having a sip from his.

“You always have… that shitty face scaring the shit outta me”. You smirk, trying to not laugh while finally grabbing a taco with a napkin under it, to not stain your clothes if something falls from it.

“I do—”. He can't help but chuckle without finishing talking, shaking his head.

“Oh, look at me, ‘El Padrino’!”. You tease him with a high-pitched voice, having a bite from your food. He laughs again and you're falling a little more every time he does it.

“I have an imagen to maintain”. Looking at him with both eyebrows raised, chewing your food with your mouth closed, the man bites his taco pretending that he doesn't enjoy that facet of rude man.

“For sure, macho alfa”. You chuckle spreading some lime over the taco in your hand. “So, why didn't you? Why didn't you… tell me anything?”

“The age? The distance? The risk?” Marcus asks leaning slightly over the table, without taking off his eyes from you. “I thought I was going crazy, until I noticed that thing you do with your perfume”.

“I don—”.

“Don't try to lie to me again, reina”.

“Maybe I did something”. You finally recognize, pursing your lips a little ashamed.

“Más sabe el diablo por viejo, que por diablo”. (This old dog knows all the tricks). He laughs nodding, seeing you licking your bottom lip after catching you.

“So… now what?” Having a sip from your beer, you ask with feigned innocence.

“I have to come back tomorrow to Oaktown, but I think I will be here next Monday”.

Nodding and grabbing another taco, giving it a bite in silence, you place your gaze on it. Knowing that you're having a good dinner but that he's going to leave again, makes you feel a little insecure about the fact that he could think about it being separated from you, and take the decision that it's better if you're not related. All these time falling in love more every day, for nothing. You also know that in Oakland still living his ex-wife and that's an added problem, because they have a good relationship. And you don't want it to change, but, what if after this night he sees that it's better to come back with her?

All these paranoias are oppressing your chest, keeping in mind that anything of these things wouldn't have to happen. That it's only inside your head. His hand getting tangled with your free, brings you back to reality, drawing a fleeting smile on your lips because of his unexpected caresses on the back of it with his thumb.

“I will be more time here, so I will see you often”. He just says, being somewhat aware of what's happening inside you.

“That sounds… good”. You recognize then, hoping that it's really true.

On your way back home, your arms are surrounding tightly his waist, as if you didn't want him to leave. And actually, you don't want to. More afraid of not coming back to you, that getting hurt for a dispute with someone. Your cheek is resting against his back, closing your eyes and focusing your senses on the buzz the engine produces, and on his scent, totally enraptured. But very much to your regret, the road comes to an end, reaching your destination. Parking the bike on the sidewalk in front of your house, you jump out from his bike, taking off the helmet a little cheerlessly. Leaving a soft sigh escaping from your lips, you purse them turning at your home for a second, while he gets up from the motorcycle.

“I live there…” You say, looking for an excuse to extend the evening.

“Yes, I know”. He chuckles taking off his helmet too, and placing both over the seat, watching him brushing his messed hair with three fingers.

“What time are you leaving?”

“In five hours, I think. We have like nine hours of road ahead”.

“Shit… and I'm here distracting you”. You whisper, rubbing your forehead. “Go to sleep, I wouldn't like to hear that you had an accident because you were tired”.

“I'm used to”. He just says, before placing both hands on your neck, leaning forward to kiss you.

And you know you're about to die, running out of air tangling your fingers in the folds of his jacket. His lips are moving so slow that it's a pleasant torture for you, tasting them as if you had all the time in the world to do it. You couldn't get tired of kissing him. Not now that you finally are doing it. His tongue settles itself among your lips, finding yours, as you push him closer with a soft plaintive moan drowning into his mouth. You really love Marcus, and now you're more scared than never. Pulling himself away from you, but leaving one last kiss in your cheek, you can't help but hug him. Sinking your nose into his neck, the mexican gently caresses your hair.

“I promise I will be back on Monday. And the first thing I will do it's come to see you and make it up to you, for being so far”.

“I hope so”. You mutter. “If I have waited for a year, I can wait for some more days… But come back, please”.

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