#but there are very few politicians who do things just because it's the right thing to do so. cynicism it is

[cosmowgyral]

Jude's Main Story

Chapters 3-4 Snippets

(only contains short summaries of few incidents)

At the dock, MC is amazed by Jude’s excellent employee supervision. He reportedly pays all of his hardworking employees a respectable salary and even gives them another chance if they mess up something.

While returning to Crown castle, Jude gets attacked by a man whose business Jude destroyed because he was allegedly smuggling drugs through Raven's network. After that, Jude's assault on his way home from work appeared to happen every day. His life was sought after by politicians, business executives, bureaucrats, and even aristocrats. According to Ellis, Jude enjoys trampling on the lives of people in positions of authority.

(I know I know, he's amazing isn't he? - says that with puffed up pride)

MC feels that Jude could have easily avoided all of this, but he doesn't, which leads us to believe that maybe he was intentionally infuriating people and making them harbor resentment toward him. She requests Ellis to teach her self-defence as being with Jude was endangering her life. Ellis gives her a little gun from Victor's arm collection in addition to teaching her self-defense.

In chapter 4, Jude, Ellis and MC go to an aristocrat’s mansion who was allegedly involved in human trafficking and drug smuggling at one of Jude’s warehouses. Jude told him that selling 6 people will result in 6 smacks from him. MC tried to stop him as the scene became more graphic, but he warned her not to impede with her needless sense of justice. After some time, the guards of the mansion entered the room and Jude had to use his curse to put them to sleep, including a guard who was about to hit the MC from behind.

A fire is started in the mansion to destroy the evidence and Jude hurls MC out of the window, sneering at her for being in the way.

-But, it's the heart that really hurts.

Premium Story-

(If I be honest here, Jude's treatment can get very harsh. Just like mentioned above, his words did sorta sting at times. But, his harsh and bitter remarks make me even more determined to resist him, kinda makes me wanna glare at him back. )

Jude and his choking (gaaaaaahhh!!)

He basically threatens her so she leaves him, telling her she’ll die if she stays with him. But she resolutely says that she’ll kill before she dies herself. (THAT’S RIGHT)

Naturally, he is taken aback and lets her go after which she offers to tend to his wounds. Here we get to see the book Jude carries around with him- Jules Verne’s From Earth to Moon. She is surprised to see Jude carrying a science fiction book and asks if he loves the moon. He claims to detest it. He feels compelled to gaze at it even though he doesn't want to because of how brilliantly it sparkles in the night sky. It doesn’t let him forget things he wants to forget.

Jude asks for something in exchange for MC's gratitude for saving her from the fire. Following a string of suggestions and Jude's rejections, he asks her to stop yapping or else he’ll shut her mouth himself. (IF YOU KNOW YOU KNOW)

Naturally though, we are teased because this is only Chapter 4. He brings his face near enough to give the impression that he is truly going to kiss. Despite his taunts, she says that she doesn't care for a kiss or two. So he’s like “Should I just do it then?”

But this is Jude, so you can't really anticipate it this early. Therefore, I'm not disappointed, maybe? *tries to calm my heart down*

I'll share a few screenshots from the premium story in another post.

[bubonickitten]

I truly, desperately need the Democratic party to focus at LEAST as much on the undecided progressive as on the undecided right-leaning moderate.

If you really want to earn the votes of undecided people, or--perhaps more importantly--inspire a young generation of first-time voters to vote for you, you HAVE to fucking talk to them and meet them where they are, and then prove to them that you've got their backs.

Like, yes, I'm voting for the Democratic candidate either way because the electoral college two-party system precludes viable alternatives. But forget the discourse about voting, not voting, voting third party, etc. for a minute and just acknowledge the fact that there are going to be people who are not going to change their minds if all you can give them is "not as bad as the other guy." Just, speaking purely in terms of pragmatism and sustainability, "not as bad as the other guy" is a dead end for a large percentage of voters, like it or not. Democrats have got to do better than that if they want to genuinely improve their chances of beating the other guy -- in this election and every other.

(ETA: I should probably clarify that I also don't like or trust the Democratic party, for the record, and this isn't me white knighting on their behalf. I'm just saying if they actually want to court progressive voters, they have to stop being... you know. Like this.)

[mckinlily]

Imagine a world where Bruce Wayne did not become Batman. Instead, he is just a Normal Dude. Or as normal as a billionaire deeply dedicated philanthropy in a city as insane as Gotham can be.

Because make no mistake: just because Bruce is not Batman does not mean Gotham is not Gotham.

There are a few new players though—on the Rogues side.

Timothy Drake is the teen business tycoon of Drake Industries. Absent of the inspiration of Batman and the socialization and warmth of Dick Grayson, he is ruthless and logical to a fault in pursuit of his goals and just as viciously chaotic as the disaster little brother Jason knows.

In other words, he’s Gotham’s youngest supervillian. The only good news is his chosen nemesis is Lex Luthor. Maybe. Timothy doesn’t care much about collateral damage. It’s not his goal to harm civilians, but he certainly doesn’t include their safety as a priority in his convoluted schemes to mess with Luthor.

Talon is an undead murderer who slaughtered a huge swath the Gotham’s 1% five years ago and, despite being spotted many times since, has never been apprehended. He appears when he wants and disappears just as readily, and Gotham just has to accept there’s a killer stalking their streets and there’s nothing they can do about it. Sometimes Talon has been known to rescue people, especially, but it’s never clear how or why exactly Talon chooses who is victim verses aggressor. And the end is always brutal and bloody for those Talon deems aggressor.

Damian is still Bruce’s biological son and raised by Talia in the League of Assassins. But when he was left in Gotham and met his father, this Bruce was so baffled and thrown by a child assassin that Damian immediately takes as rejection and runs away. (He doesn’t even stay long enough for Bruce to be sure it wasn’t a hallucination or very strange dream).

Damian is almost immediately found and adopted by Talon, so now Gotham has TWO bird-themed killers liable to jump down on you from nowhere and for any reason.

Oh, and god help you if you so much as make Talon’s baby Owlet sad. If you’re lucky, it will be the last thing you do.

Barbara is an ordinary librarian…who can be hired as a mercenary hacker for the right price. The public isn’t afraid of her because they don’t know she exists. More than one politician or public figure has been ruined because of the blackmail she unearthed on them. But what side exactly is the police commissioner’s daughter on? And how much of Gotham does she have under thumb?

(Is she a secret ally and accessory to Timothy Drake’s many plots?)

Steph, thank god, is actually NOT a villain, super or otherwise. She’s the one vigilante attempting to help Gotham. Spoiler has connections among some of the caped community like Supergirl or Wonder Girl. But without Bat training or the police cooperation forged years ago by Batman, she’s mostly just striving to survive while taking on Gotham’s many, many gang. Make no mistake, she’s impressive. But desperate. Spoiler comes with guns and explosions. So. Many. Explosions. Gotham has never heard of the “no kill” rule. And likely never will.

(Cass also lives in Gotham. But no one will ever see her or even know she’s there.)

Jason….well. Baby Jason never stole any Batmobile tires and never was adopted by a strange but kind billionaire. He was never killed at 15.

He died in the winter before he turned 13.

And then one day, Adult Canon Jason gets thrown into this dimension. And somehow Gothan is WORSE?! How is that even possible? Also his siblings are running around being super villains and killing people? Bruce! Control your children!!

But this Bruce does not have children (he’s still mostly convinced Damian was a prank or hallucination). He is horrified by the idea of children fighting crime. He has absolutely no idea how to handle exceptionally talented chaos machines with too much passion and no sense of self preservation. And he’s frankly a little disturbed by Jason himself and his guns and refusal to “work within the system” and Jason nopes out of there so freaking fast.

Jason also, slowly, has to become okay with the realization that his siblings are not insane because they were made Robin. They became Robin because they were already insane. There was no way to create a normal human being out of any of them.

(Jason does not want to look too closely at what that says about him.)

In the end, Jason teams up with Steph. He connects her with Dick/Talon, who is more than happy to have a new Owlet to train and preen, and Damian only slightly stabs her. They manage to persuade/threaten Tim into caring enough to help get Jason back to his dimension with misuse of Drake Industry research equipment. Damian very much does stab Tim. Tim retaliates by locking Damian in an industrial freezer. Dick thinks they’re bonding. Jason introduces them to Babs, but frankly he has no idea what he’s hoping to achieve from this. Probably nothing good because Dick, despite being an under-socialized undead assassin with some weird mannerisms and ways of speaking, still manages to pull a woman way out his league like Barbie. And Babs seems to have no problem with the “murder” part that description.

Jason never realized how much Bruce’s strict moral code and “the Mission” were key to the rest of them becoming remotely positive influences in society. Or how little Bruce has to do with his siblings getting into dangerous, violent situation. He doesn’t like anything about it.

They work out how send Jason back, and he returns to his dimension with the feeling he’s just left Alternate Gotham to a gang of supervillains.

…at least they’re together?

And Talon Dick won’t let any of his new Owlets die and will rain bloody vengeance on anyone who tries. So that’s good. For them at least.

(Jason feels absurdly like he should be apologizing to this universe’s Bruce. Or. Someone. He doesn’t. But he feels like he should.)

Back at in his dimension and at the Batcave, Jason pauses and just stares at Batman for a very, very long time. Finally, he takes a deep breath and solemnly nods just once before taking off into the Manor for Alfred’s cookies.

Bruce has no idea what the fuck just happened.

[gyummigon]

☆ my days with you (they are always happy)

beomgyu x gn!reader

୨୧ genre: fluff/comfort ୨୧ word count: 4.4k ୨୧ summary: after having a crush on your best friend for months, you have a silly, very silly, confession of feelings. ୨୧ a/n: truth be told, this is a little silly, and cheesy, but I wanted needed to write something that felt easy and refreshing. it's a little longer than i originally thought it would be, but it was fun. hope you like it, have a nice day:))

You liked Beomgyu. You liked him because of the way his eyes sparkled when he hummed his favorite song while doing the dishes, when he collapsed on the bed after an endless list of complaints about how tired he was, or when he spoke with overflowing emotion about the things he liked. You liked him because you found in him a kind of gentleness that you didn't find in the rest of the world, that you didn't think you could get from a man. And the amazing thing is that he was a man, but when you were with him, it was as if you saw the world through the eyes of a child. Eyes that saw happiness and didn't twist it, but made it bigger, spread it out and expanded it until those eyes - brown and deep and enchantingly beautiful - were the last thing left.

Perhaps you were in love with one of your closest friends. Or maybe you were just in the right place.

This thought was even harder to resolve when you arrived at your parents' house that Sunday afternoon, having checked off every single item on your mother's shopping list. You had only been out shopping for an hour, but it was as if you were returning home for the first time after the days out of town you had left behind. You didn't even know when you'd left the bags of groceries at the front door, or when you'd turned back to the garden to see that beaming smile with the wrinkles in the cheeks, let alone when your voice, shaky and too anxious for your taste, uttered an embarrassed "hey".

Beomgyu, who until then had been laughing at a ridiculous joke he had shared with your father, turned to look at you with an enchanting calm that could only be found on a beach at sunset, when the moon was doing its thing and the tide was ebbing in deep, sentimental sighs. The boy seemed to see something you couldn't define on your face, for his smile shrank to a soft, almost shy line.

You didn't take your attention off your face as he approached, hands hidden behind his back, and stopped in front of you. Despite your father's loud voice, the mischievous laughter of your younger siblings, and your mother's scolding of the dog to keep it away from the meat ready for roasting, the only thing you found yourself paying attention to was the disturbingly fast beating of your heart.

"Hey," you repeated, no less awkwardly. "What is this, I travel for a few weeks and suddenly my family has already adopted you?"

Beomgyu kept his shy smile and leaned against one of the wooden boards of the porch for a moment. His checkered shirt billowed slightly in the soft summer breeze.

"I think it's your father who decided to adopt me. He says I'm the exact representation of his youth: charming, talented, and outrageously beautiful."

"I think he says that to every young person he meets."

"Are you saying I shouldn't believe him?"

You didn't know when you started smiling, but your cheeks were sure to hurt if you didn't relax the muscles in your face soon.

"No, I'm just saying my father talks too much."

"A sincere and open man, I like him."

"As sincere as a politician in an election debate."

Beomgyu laughed and looked out into the garden, where your father was still sitting in a folding chair with a scowl on his face, trying to light the wood-burning barbecue. In a measured, polite voice that you didn't know he could have and that almost made you want to mock him, Beomgyu offered to help; but when your father looked up and - in the most millennial, bland way possible - gave him a thumbs-up before shouting a friendly "I've got it under control, son," for some stupid, irrational, and probably childish reason, you blushed. You blushed badly.

What the hell, since when did your father call Beomgyu "son"? And since when did your family normally invite one of your friends to join them on Burger Sunday? Was that your mother putting another plate on the table? Was that what Beomgyu did while you were away? Eat your burger in your place?

Beomgyu seemed to read the thoughts embodied in your expression very well, because he laughed softly and lifted a shoulder with an unseemly shyness. Surely, that's how you had captivated them all.

You little harpy.

And yet, to see him as vibrant and jovial as when you left was like a Band-Aid that lightened the burden of stress you'd endured these past few days. When you arrived in town last Thursday night, the first thing you thought of was to look for him, but the idiot had gotten sick from drinking bad milk and had begged you not to visit him until his diarrhea was over. He hadn't texted you since the night before, and you were beginning to think he'd dropped his phone in the toilet during one of his diarrhea attacks, but what you didn't expect was to find him at your house on your way home from the supermarket, nor did you expect to feel the way you felt: nervous, with words thought but never spoken, with desires intensified but more terrifying than ever.

"So... how was the convention that starved you for almost a month?"

You looked up as your younger brother ran past you, the dog not far behind. Before reaching the short stairs that led into the house, Beomgyu scooped your brother up in his arms and spun him around in the air before setting him down and encouraging him back to where your parents were. Your brother ran off with the dog behind him.

You blinked.

"It was a month of physical pain. I didn't know what an international accounting convention would be like until I went to one. I thought it would be like the boring lectures we had in high school and college, but apparently businessmen have fun with taxes and returns."

Beomgyu snorted in amusement and shoved his hands into his pants pockets as he turned to lean against the railing, looking you in the eye with that sweet smile of his.

"I missed you."

"Oh, did you?" you asked, keeping a neutral expression on your face as you raised an eyebrow. Despite your coolness, it wasn't hard to notice a slight blush spreading across your cheeks. It wasn't that you had been away from him for a long time, you had been apart for months at other times, but there was something different about his words this time that made you wonder if he really missed you or if he missed you the way you felt.

"Is that why you snuck into my house as an undercover usurper?"

"See, I've been taking over your family members one by one," he said with mock seriousness as he gave you an exaggerated look. But then the mischievous smile returned to his face, and he took a step closer. "What's the matter with you, aren't you going to confess that you missed me, that you were writhing in agony without my presence?"

"You've been texting me almost every day for the past three weeks, Beomgyu. I don't know how I could have missed you."

Her lips curled into a pout of indignation as she frowned. You noticed that one of his hands was on the railing, inches from yours. "That's really cruel. He was really unhappy."

"Right, how's your diarrhea?"

"Uhmm," he hummed, and from a distance you could tell he was trying to maintain a disinterested expression as he looked away. "I'm a feisty guy, you know? A diet based on soda crackers and oral electrolytes and puf, good as new. Why, are you going to make fun of me? Because let me tell you, you won't make me suffer as much as Yeonjun and Soobin already have."

"Diarrhea teasing is not my strong point."

Beomgyu let out a gasping, feigned sigh and placed his right hand over his heart, his eyes dramatically wide. "Is this empathy real, is it possible you'll come back a little softer?"

You snorted and shook your head. You couldn't remember when last summer had been like this: quiet conversations, laughter, and a silence that seemed somehow comfortable even when tension was building between you. You had forgotten the ease that had always existed between the two of you. You used to hate these months of excessive heat and aimless days, but ever since you met Beomgyu, you begged for every chance to laugh together, no matter the season.

"I'm not going to laugh," you said, lowering your eyes to your hands. You were about to say something else, but the words died in your mouth as he moved even closer, sliding his hand over yours on the railing.

You nearly choked on your own saliva. God, why did you get so nervous, didn't you just talk about diarrhea a few seconds ago?

You said nothing, and neither did he, but you watched his cautious, anxious expression before looking down again at your joined hands with his hand: yours flattened against the light wood, covered by his slender fingers and the soft, delicate pads of his thumbs, almost always rough and calloused from constant use of his guitar. His hand was warm, and you felt your heart flutter as he ran his thumb over the knuckles of your hand. It was a gentle, casual, maybe even innocent gesture, but it felt like a million fireworks on the skin of your hand.

"I... I thought about you while I was away."

He didn't answer, he just turned to look at you, and you couldn't help but feel your heart beat faster when you saw the look on his face. His smile was still there, but it had changed, it had become softer, and you felt like it was the only thing you could hold onto to keep from blurting out the pile of words that had begun to form on the tip of your tongue.

"It's stupid, isn't it?" you added, trying not to notice the butterflies fluttering in your stomach as his fingers brushed harder against yours, as if encouraging you to speak, to spit out the words before they bloated your stomach and turned you into a useless ball of desire and... God, weren't those lips so beautiful? "I've missed you. I've missed you all week."

"All month?" He corrected quietly, and you just rolled your eyes as you tilted your head toward the floor and kicked an invisible rock.

"I guess I miss you every day since I met you."

Even though you saw his smile widen out of the corner of your eye, he didn't respond right away, and that made the knot of apprehension in your chest grow. However, the wave of fear dissipated as soon as it came. His thumb was right on your pulse, probably sensing the way it had quickened for him. His touch was tender, nothing more than the gentle pressure of his thumb against your skin, but you were so mesmerized by the soft gesture that you barely noticed when he took a step closer, his body so close to yours that it was as if you were enveloped in the soft scent of his cologne. It felt like a secret moment, the way that even with your whole family gathered around the grill preparing dinner and the two of you, separated by the noise, just a few feet away, you didn't seem to notice anything but each other's presence.

"Tell me more about it." His voice was lower, softer, sending shivers down your spine.

"You want me to talk about how I missed you?"

He bit his lip as he gave you a mischievous, perhaps very silly smile and... No, it definitely wasn't the smile of someone who wanted to grab your heart and run away, was it? Because, hell, it felt like that.

You forced yourself to look away from his lips. Nothing could make you stupider. Nothing could make you freak out more. You had to avoid them, avoid the madness. But it was in vain, a deluded attempt to escape the traps of your heart, because just as you looked into his eyes, he dropped his gaze to your mouth for a moment, and you were convinced he could feel your pulse fluttering under his thumb. He took another step. Now he was close enough to push your back against the railing, his hand fully clenched over yours, and his eyes lost on your lips, begging you to speak up and do something stupid.

And so you did.

"I... I can tell you how I think of you when I see something funny. Or something frighteningly beautiful. Like those pink sunrises we barely see if we're not lazy and stay in bed till noon. Or two cats curled up on the sidewalk. Not that I want to cuddle with you, mind you... Well, it's not that I don't want to. The point is, cats are cute. Like you."

With a grimace, you paused to take it in and then forced yourself to pretend you hadn't said that. But you were strong, and you didn't let yourself stop, because you had already screwed up, and you knew that if you didn't say those words right then, you could never say them again.

"Today I was surprised to see you with my father, laughing and joking, when my father doesn't laugh with any boy who is related to me. Then I was even more surprised that it felt so intimate, so familiar, so close. I don't know if it was like one of those equations that I know at first glance will make me lose my mind and want to give up life at the slightest attempt to solve it, or one of those formulas that, even unsolved, look like one of the most beautiful in the mathematical world. Yes, I... I just made a metaphor using the words "beautiful" and "mathematical" in the same sentence. Okay, okay, stop laughing. It's just... You laughing with my father, what a disaster. What a disaster to realize that every aspect of my life likes you and what a disaster that every aspect of my life clings to you so much. I think that's why I miss you even when we're close. I don't want there to be any distance between us.

There it was, you said it. Done. Now you could breathe. Now your heart could relax a little, take a blanket and wait for the rainbow or the misfortune. It could go get a bunch of duct tape and Band-Aids or get naked and pole dance around an artery. It could get a funeral box or start believing that it's immortal. And it all depended on the guy in front of you.

Beomgyu's gaze was soft, as soft and gentle as the scenarios that automatically began to form in your head when you saw the mixture of surprise and tenderness that ran through his expression when you finished speaking. He looked down at his hands clasped against yours and exhaled a laugh that came out a little shaky. Then he returned to your gaze and stood there, silently studying you.

"I want to answer you," he whispered, "but I want to make sure I find the right words.

Idiot.

You tried very hard to keep a serene expression on your face, as if your world wasn't hanging by a thread. Then he did something you'd never seen before: he swallowed spit, his gaze sliding down to linger on your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes and swallowing again. "Wait a minute," he said hoarsely.

Without warning, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing against the railing as you struggled to catch your breath.What the hell had that been? You watched as he walked over to the garden table, grabbed a soda, then walked back over to you and leaned against the railing next to you.

He cleared his throat, took a sip, then looked back at you.

"Are you kidding me?" there was a mix of emotions in your voice, amusement, confusion, embarrassment, insecurity, indignation..., the urge to grab the soda can from him and bash his head with it.

Beomgyu blinked, seemingly surprised by your statement, then laughed, his mouth twisting into a smile that felt like a prize.

"What?" he asked, his eyes flashing. You tightened your mouth and he laughed even harder. "I can't believe you just said that!"

"What an asshole," you muttered, nudging his side.

He laughed, but his arms shot out to hold you, just as your nudge knocked him off balance for a moment. His hands wrapped around your arms and he straightened up, but he didn't let go of you or wipe that goofy grin off his face. You struggled to keep up the gesture of annoyance, though it didn't work very well when he pulled you to him.

"I... I'm actually pretty nervous."

His gaze had dropped to your mouth again, and when it came back up to meet your eyes, he bit his lip. His gaze was intense, as if he was struggling to find the right words to say whatever it was he was thinking. He let go of your arms to lean against the railing next to you, keeping his distance so close that your shoulder was trapped between his right arm and his side.

"I want to kiss you, but your dad is right behind me and I'm afraid he'll leave me without a burger," he joked, but his laugh came out too quickly and you realized he was really nervous. His gaze landed on your mouth again and he held it there for what seemed like an eternity before he let out a loud breath and closed his eyes. You were still processing the fact that the words "I want to kiss you" had just come out of his mouth.

"I'm sure you can live without a hamburger, Beomgyu."

His gaze returned to your mouth and your heart skipped a beat as he came even closer. Now he was so close you could feel his breath caressing your lips as he brought his hand to your waist to pull you even closer, and his lips - so soft, so tantalizing, and so agonizingly close to yours - parted and they were about to say something when suddenly your father's voice boomed across the yard.

"Hey, guys," he said in a hoarse voice. "Dinner's almost ready."

The sound of his voice made you jump, and you were surprised at how quickly Beomgyu turned away, taking several steps back and moving as far away from you as possible. His face was red and he held his arms carefully at his sides as your father looked up at the two of you.

"Is everything okay here? You two looked very... lovey-dovey," your father joked, his eyes narrowing as he watched both of your reddened faces and Beomgyu desperately trying to act normal.

"Eh-" Beomgyu opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He opened and closed his mouth as if he was struggling to come up with an excuse. Your father, who was now smiling broadly, looked from Beomgyu to you and back to Beomgyu, who was still struggling. "Sir, I am in love with your daughter."

His unplanned statement came out in a rush, and your face quickly turned to him, mouth agape. He was also surprised by his own words, his eyes widened even more and he now looked at you in disbelief, his lips parted slightly as he processed what he had said. My goodness...

Your father had dropped the lid of the grill, your mother had stopped making the salad, and your brothers had stopped torturing the dog to look at you and Beomgyu. There was silence; no one moved or said anything. For a moment there was only the humming of the grill and the whisper of an occasional breeze. You were sure that Beomgyu could hear your heart beating in your chest and you were sure that you could hear it when he swallowed spit. He was so red, so shocked, that you thought he would faint right there, or run out first and then pass out in front of your house.

"Gee, well." After a long silence, your father nodded and added, "I'm sure dinner will be a long one."

You wondered if the seriousness in his tone was real.

Beomgyu shivered like a tired old oak leaf. Your mother shook her head, struggling to keep a smile from peeking out of her lips. Your siblings, like you, just stared at him, eyes wide.

Your father broke the second silence by clearing his throat and tapping the lid of the grill.

"I think the burgers are ready."

Before you could find the stability to move towards your family, Beomgyu's hand wrapped around your arm and his eyes, now wide and ridiculously expressive, shouted the words you had been waiting for.

"Listen."

"Yes?"

"I... I... It slipped out of my mouth."

"I know." Oh, God. No. You didn't know. You didn't know anything. You weren't thinking clearly. Your heart had eloped to a party and your brain had followed.

"Your dad likes me, look, it doesn't look like he's going to let me go without a burger."

"Beomgyu, I..."

"Listen," he repeated, and you would have told him to lower his voice if you hadn't seen his determination. "If your father banishes me from your house and I don't survive the heartbreak to tell you, I want you to know that I've been thinking about you all this time, every day, at all hours; especially in the morning, which is why every day starts out well now and is all happy and pretty and cheesy and all that. You're so... so fucking cute and distracting, which is why you saw me with my shirt on backwards the other day, which also explains the toothpaste stain on my sweater; oh! And the different colored socks. I didn't know that... This, that... you know, yeah... Love made people so clumsy and clueless, but now I know that if I get hit by a tricycle going three miles an hour, it will be because I was thinking of you”.

He was still talking, the words coming out of him as fast as the stream of water coming out of the hose one of your brothers was using to wash a sausage he had dropped on the floor. You just stood there, mouth agape, struggling to take in and process all those words.

"And just a moment ago I was so excited, so high, such an idiot for what you said to me, I can't believe I almost left without telling you, because I've been wanting to tell you forever. I don't know if it was those beautiful cheeks that I want to cradle and pull and pinch and bite all the time, or if it was the way your lashes whispered romantic tales and happy endings to me. I... I don't know how you did it, or what seductive trick you used to trap me, but you can take as much from me as you want; I don't know how much I have, only that I was empty until you came”.

Beomgyu finished, paused for a moment, and then smiled and shrugged, such an adorable and nervous and yet ridiculous and funny gesture. "Well, that... that's it."

There was no air in your lungs. Your heart, which had come back drunk, racing and out of breath, was beating so fast that you couldn't think of anything but the deafening sound it was making in your chest. One, two, three minutes passed and you still hadn't regained your mobility. Beomgyu inhaled sharply, shrugged again, and gestured to the table where the rest of your family was already sitting, looking at you, trying to pretend they weren't listening.

"I think they're all waiting for us to eat."

Fortunately, he made the decision for you and took your hand to lead you to the table. You still had your eyes fixed on him and your mouth hanging open as he led you to your seat. You sat down and your trembling legs were grateful, but your hand felt empty, sweaty and scared when it came away from his.

Beomgyu cleared his throat, blushed at the sight of you and murmured, "I'll be back in a minute, okay?" Then he left, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

Your father looked at you as if he expected you to say something, but he must have seen the embarrassment and confusion on your face, because he then turned to your mother. "Did you understand him? I didn't understand him."

Your mother laughed. "I love that boy, but God, he talks fast."

"He wants to bite her cheeks," said one of your siblings.

"And pinch them." Said the other.

Your father nearly choked on his soda, and you nearly fell out of your chair.

"What? What is he talking about?"

"He wants to bite her!" your younger brother nearly howled with laughter. "He's always talking about biting her cheeks."

"And pinching them."

You covered your face with your hands and grinned like a fool. You didn't mind the dozens of questions your father asked and the teasing of your siblings; you looked at your mother's smile, full of peace, hope, promised laughter and dreams to be fulfilled, and you admitted to yourself that the days with Beomgyu would always carry a load of happiness that was capable of subtracting the importance of everything else.

At the same time, Beomgyu was leaning against the wall and facing the closed bathroom door, trying to sort out his thoughts. As he stood in front of you, the words came out of him so fast that he didn't even have time to realize how hasty and awkward his statement was. He felt exposed, vulnerable, he needed a moment or two or many to recover, but he was undeniably happy.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, thinking of you and laughing for no reason.

"Oh my God..." he murmured. "I'm so fucked up."

୨୧ txt - masterlist ୨୧ © gyummigon | all rights reserved. copying or adaptation prohibited.

[ceilidhtransing]

Having spent pretty much the entire year immersed in studying Nazi Germany, the Holocaust, and genocide more broadly, my heart is bursting with the need to stress how much you should take Project 2025 seriously. This is a long post but please stick with me.

Don't take this post as an attempt to concretely predict anything. We can't ever fully know the future and I think it's silly to say with total certainty “if Trump wins then America will become just like Nazi Germany” - not only because the future isn't written yet, but also because Germany under the Nazis was a very specific regime with its own quirks and peculiarities and I don't think that even a worst-case-scenario Trump regime would look exactly like Hitler's Germany. No two regimes ever look exactly alike: it would use the same colour palette as all far-right dictatorships but be constructed from a different medium, like what a watercolour is to an oil painting.

But just because Trump is a very different person from Hitler, and a worst-case-scenario Trump dictatorship would not literally be “Nazi Germany all over again”, that doesn't mean that what happened in Germany isn't instructive here. Forget the specifics of whether or not Trump as a dictator would organise a state identically to how the Nazis organised Germany or whatever; on a far broader and more relevant level, there is a distressing number of similarities. And too many people are falling into the same thought traps as they did then.

Please don't assume that Trump is “way too incompetent” to achieve what's in Project 2025 or Agenda 47. They said the same thing about Hitler. They said that there was no way this showman could govern effectively - holding big rallies and making speeches that get people riled up isn't the same as being good at running a functioning state and achieving what you want. The New York Times even wrote after he became Chancellor of Germany that this would only “let him expose to the German public his own futility”. And in many ways Hitler was pretty incompetent. But that didn't end up mattering. The greatest crime of the Nazi regime, the Holocaust, was masterminded mostly by a whole load of people besides Hitler, who were delegated the nitty-gritty task of actually orchestrating it. Hitler's personal incompetence didn't prevent war or genocide.

Please don't assume that Trump is “just a wacky nutcase” who “can't possibly be a real risk”. They said the same thing about Hitler. The mainstream media gave constant coverage to all the crazy extreme things Hitler said as if he was merely a bit of a joke and not a massive threat. The Nazis were quite happy with this. To quote Goebbels repeatedly in his diary, “The main thing is they're talking about us.”

Please don't assume that being in power will “moderate” Trump and that “of course he won't be able to do all the crazy stuff once he actually has to govern”. They said the same thing about Hitler. It was a common sentiment in the early 1930s that all the sensible politicians around him would force him to moderate his stances. Fritz von Papen, the last Chancellor of Weimar Germany, persuaded President Hindenburg to make Hitler the Chancellor by assuring him, “In a few months, we will have pushed [Hitler] so far into the corner that he will squeak.” It turns out that power doesn't “moderate” people who are openly talking about a dictatorship.

Please don't assume that there's any truth to the whole “Trump has nothing to do with Project 2025 and trying to link it to him is just liberal hysteria” line. They said the same thing about Hitler. People repeatedly asserted that Nazi street violence wasn't really representative of the party leadership; it wasn't representative of Hitler. He was even subpoenaed by a very brave lawyer in 1931 in a bid to prove that recent violence by Nazi stormtroopers was committed with the knowledge and encouragement of the party leadership, with part of the prosecution's argument hanging on a pamphlet by Goebbels that promised a violent overthrow of the state if the Nazis couldn't come to power legitimately. Surely no legal political party could be publishing that. In a successful attempt to escape criminal charges, Hitler repeatedly lied that the pamphlet was not official Nazi Party material and that he didn't know anything about it. No Trump didn't write it, no it isn't an official GOP manifesto, but the links between Project 2025 and Trump, the previous Trump administration, and Trump allies are extremely well documented. Just the other day, Project 2025 co-author Russell Vought was caught calling Trump's disavowals of the document “graduate-level politics” and saying, “what he's doing is just very, very conscious distancing himself from a brand ... he's in fact not even opposing himself to a particular policy.”

Please don't assume that “there's no way something like that could happen here; we're way too educated and advanced”. They said the same thing about Hitler. The Germany of the 1920s and 1930s was one of the most educated and most scientifically and industrially advanced nations in the world, and its cities were some of the most progressive in the world. People were stunned and horrified that it was in Germany of all places - Germany, land of music and art and science and literature! - that fascism took root. Germany's economic and social advancement didn't stop about 40% of its voters choosing the Nazis. It didn't stop them taking power.

Please don't assume that Project 2025 is “just a wishlist” and “not actually a serious plan”. They said the same thing about Hitler. As is hopefully very clear by now, plenty of people did not think that the Nazis were capable of, or would dare to try, putting into actual practice the horrific ideas about race that undergirded so much of their ideology. “I like Hitler; he talks sense economically and I think all this stuff about Jews is just bluff and bluster.” “Every party has a loony wing, right? You have to understand they're not serious when they talk about this stuff; they're just telling their base what they want to hear.” “God have you heard this crazy race science shit about head shapes and stuff? It's hilarious! I'm sure none of them at the top really believe that; there's no way they'd be that nuts.” When a group of people like this tells you what they believe and tells you what they want to do with power, believe them. No matter how ridiculous they seem, they're not joking.

In the words of Hans Litten, the lawyer who subpoenaed and cross-examined Hitler in that court case in 1931, “Don't listen to him; he's telling the truth.” Litten was arrested on the night of the Reichstag fire in 1933 and spent the rest of his life being tortured in concentration camps before dying in Dachau in 1938 at the age of 34.

A tyrannical dictatorship can often be seen coming a mile away. I don't want to imply for a second that what the Nazis did came as a surprise to everyone and couldn't possibly have been predicted. There were people who saw this coming in the 1920s and 1930s and tried to sound the alarm while they still had a chance. But they were too often in the minority, taking the threat seriously while others had convinced themselves that there was no need for concern because the Nazis wouldn't really do all the things they repeatedly talked about wanting to do. Everyone should have seen this coming, but too many people wanted to believe it couldn't be true.

Don't let this scare you. Let it energise you. Talk to the people in your life about Project 2025 and Agenda 47. Push back against people who assert that “they'd never actually do all that stuff” or “Trump didn't even write Project 2025” or “it's not a real plan, just a list of crazy shit to get the base riled up”. Have conversations with folks you know who are on the fence about voting or about who to vote for and who seem persuadable. Make sure you're registered to vote, and keep making sure, especially if you live in a red state where people keep mysteriously dropping off voter rolls.

Now, again, please don't read this as some confident prediction that Trump will be a Hitler figure. I want to stress that is a worst-case scenario. If a Trump presidency is what happens, I would much prefer the best-case scenario: that he spends four years fumbling around and not really accomplishing anything and then gives up power at the end without much of a fight. But it would also be a folly to be smugly overconfident that the worst-case scenario “won't” or “can't” happen. It could. It has happened before. There is no reason it couldn't happen again.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Punk Biker Floyd Leech

In a world that’s in a very distant future where cybernetics and AI have advanced the world beyond normal means

Individual desires are at an all time high

Now the days of meet-cutes and noble rebels were the stuff of ancient history

In a world where everyone’s so focused on themselves there are a select few who try

One of them being you 

Working hard enough to become the mayor of one of these decrepit cities 

You’re working your hardest to change this outlook 

And so far it’s actually going pretty well 

For the first time in awhile they’ve felt such warmth

since you’ve allocated the funds usually meant for the mayor’s paycheck 

But there’s a glaring problem 

The Underbelly–a part of any city that’s filled with the poorest and most desire-driven people

And no one represents that better than Leader of the biker gang of the Underbelly–Floyd

“Hey mini mayor, care to loosen up? Go for a ride?”

“Not this again Floyd! I’m trying to do something.”

“Aww are you the one who’s been putting up these cutesy little posters?”

“Yes, why?”

“I’ve been takin’ them back to my place, cause they look like cute napkins.”

“FLOYD!?”

Floyd Leech in this world is a mystery to most 

Feared by all

As an heir of the Mafia that’s running half the planet Floyd’s signature for his wildness and unpredictable attacks

One day he’s steam plowing through smaller gangs by mowing them down with his custom motor bike

But on another day he’ll be seen standing behind the mayor as you give your address to the people

Like his other actions, it’s seems so random

And it’s not that you nailed him right away that makes him interested

Honestly when his friend Azul asks him why he’s so protective of you, he can’t say one thing in particular

You always look him directly in the eyes when you have something important to say

You do sigh but you’re never annoyed with his antics

When he sneaks into the office knowing your in there still working, you so easily lean into his arms as he carries you to the sofa you have

He doesn’t really know exactly why but he doesn’t care 

Not anymore

All he knows is that for once he’s got a real tangible reason to do what he does

For once when he crushes the skull of a politician it’s because they tried to frame you

For once instead of just doing whatever's fun he thinks about you 

Will you show him that adorable upset face if he burns down this orphanage

Will you hug him again if he get’s the convicts to participate in community service

It’s all he can think about now 

And he’s decided he’d want nothing less

“Ne~Mini Mayor wear this for me.”

“Is this your earring? The one you choose to leave off for the style?”

“Yeah.”

“Hehe wouldn’t you want to keep this just in case you wake up with a need for good outfit?”

“Wear this when you come down to the Underbelly.”

“Oh yeah what’ll it do help you find me?”

“Something like that. Just promise you’ll keep it on you for me.”

“I will Floyd. I will.”

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Hiii!

I love your writing, especially Mirror, Mirror! Are you still taking request? I‘ve been thinking about Ascended Astarion and female Tav/Reader attending a ball for the politicians and nobles of Baldur’s Gate, getting all dressed up and socializing, dancing and Astarion flirting with her all night long. Astarion obviously wouldn’t waste a chance to be alone with Tav/Reader, takes her on a romantic stroll in the gardens and has his wicked way with her somewhere in a dark corner 👀

I can not make Ascnedant Astarion not dark I am SORRY but I can't help myself. The intro to this is sad bad, but honestly it gets pretty fun later down the line. Gotta set up that Stockholm syndrome. You gots it here.

Tw: Murder, Violence, not much but it is there, graphic smut, 18+ sweet dark fluff. I do consider this Stockholm on your end. Very inspired by the in-game quote of locking you away for a decade. Also, never write shit only in tumblr post editor, I lost half of this right before I was going to post last and it almost killed me

~

Astarion was.... aware that you'd been having a hard time as of late. If anyone could empathize with the complications of being a vampire spawn, it was certainly him. Even though his circumstance were obviously much, much worse than yours ever could be.

He was no Cazador. Astarion was different, he loved you. He knew what was best for you. All that needed to happen now was for you to accept it.

And in your defense, you were trying. It had taken a long time for you to finally come to terms with the full extent of power he had over you as his spawn. He would always know where you were through sensation alone. Always ready and willing to drag you back home if need be. He could compel you to his side at any moment, though he did have a bad habit of going out to find you during your little tantrums. It seemed to work better to put you in your place, especially since he had very little self-control when it came to who you associated with. Many a possible friend had died at his hand, in front of your eyes. A waste, really, one that wouldn't be necessary if you would just listen.

But the demonstrations had been useful. Slowly but surely you were learning that the option of secrets between the two of you had died the second he sunk his fangs into your wrist. He had personally put an official stop to all of your extracurricular activities. The things you used to do in your spare time were silly and dangerous, always going out of your way to help the undeserving. But now he had the control to stop you, to sequester you at the estate where you were safe.

You had nowhere to be besides his side and you were finally starting to understand that. Things were so much easier when you gave in and listened, happier and more fun.

Lately, it had almost felt like another honeymoon phase, with your sudden predilection for extreme loyalty. It helped that he could still see into your mind through the new connection, fully aware that your love remained real and pure, if not a bit melancholic. It was silly really, the guilt you felt towards him for letting him ascend. Never mind the thousands he sacrificed, you were too concerned with how power had chanced him.

It was cute. Stupid, but cute. Because obviously it had changed him for the better. How else would he be where he was now? With his hands already in nearly every major part of Baldur's Gate's governance? He had made wide, sweeping moves to gain control in the past year, banking on your dual hero status to deflect from his more... unsavory attributes. But it was working, and in a few years time this city would belong to him. Then the two of you would be on to the next major conquest. A future that you were just now coming to terms with.

And Astarion wanted to reward you for that acceptance. He had been a bit paranoid of late, paranoid enough to not let you out of the house for a solid fortnight. But for good reason. The last of the Gur had come out of the woodwork recently, looking for revenge for their children and fallen comrades. With a specific interest in you. It had made sense, in a way. You were his greatest weakness after all. So of course he had to take it upon himself to personally hunt the last of them down to tear them limb from limb.

But now they were officially gone, and he was finally feeling comfortable with letting you out into the world again. Just not out of his sight. And tonight was the perfect opportunity. He had a mandatory soirée to attend, populated by neighboring nobles and a few powerful foreigners. One that would be so much more entertaining with you willingly by his side. Or forced, if need be. Depending on if you decided to be in one of your moods, though they were a rarity nowadays.

But no, you turned out to be too excited at the prospect of leaving the house to even attempt being a brat. Astarion watched you with a smile as you appeared at the top of the staircase, dressed to the nines. He whistled as he watched you descend, beyond pleased with how you looked. He met you at the bottom of the landing, easily wrapping an arm around your waist before setting a quick kiss to your temple, "You look beautiful pet. Absolutely stunning."

You truly did. A navy satin gown that matched your skin tone perfectly, fitted with delicate straps and a low bodice. Perhaps the slit in the leg was a little high, revealing too much of your perfect thigh for the rest of the world. But you looked too good for him to complain.

You really were so gorgeous, could he be blamed for wanting to dress you up?

You rolled your eyes, but Astarion didn't miss the tiny smile dancing on your lips, "You're the one who picked it out."

"And you wear it perfectly," Astarion praised, already leading you out the door. He kept you close to his side during the short journey, his eyes darting around your surroundings every few moments. His paranoia had been quelled, but it hadn't completely died out. But he had already made the decision that he was going to be on his best behavior tonight, and that included not indulging in his protective nature. You deserved nothing less.

But that didn't stop Astarion from taking some mental notes on those who stared at you too brazenly when you arrived. Part of him couldn't blame them, not when he could understand your thrall better than any one else. But the other, more fun part of himself was too busy imagining ripping them apart for the audacious, lustful stares.

But he didn't drag the two of you out for strictly fun, a fact that he was quickly reminded of when you were approached by the main host, "Lord Ancunín! I'm so pleased that you could make it."

Astarion vaguely remembered who he was, though he was much more interested in his friends than the man himself. The man turned his attention toward you, brow raised, "And who is this beautiful creature?"

Astarion could feel his brow twitch at the insolence. How dare he not know who you were? The Hero of Baldur's Gate, his consort, the love of his life, how could someone of his breeding be so ignorant? You had to many titles to choose from for introductions, so Astarion decided on the most important, "This is the future Lady Ancunín, my fiancé."

He could feel you tense at his side, staring up at him with wide eyes like what he said was surprising. Which was odd. He had been extremely clear about his intentions since the day he ascended, marriage was the obvious next step for the two of you.

"Well it's lovely to meet you," The noble said with a smile, his attention going straight back to Astarion, "Now if you'll excuse us, I have a few matters to discuss with your future husband."

Astarion was startlingly close to hurting this man. What on earth made him feel as though he had the right to dismiss you? He tightened the arm he had around your waist, sneering at him, "There is nothing that you can say that she won't eventually know. Don't waste our time."

Then he proceeded to do just that, wasting Astarion's time with useless information and worthless attempts at allyships. It seemed to be an unfortunate trend as the night progressed, just reinforcing how utterly useless the gentry could really be. Not to mention their constant passive dismissal of you. He really was going to need to start letting you out more often, though he had to wonder if they were even worthy of your presence. He would have been a bit more forceful regarding his own displeasure at their arrogance if you weren’t so distracting.

It was hard to hold onto his own indignation when you seemed so content. You were leaning into him the whole night, smiling softly through all of his inane conversations. Never failing to be adorably pleased at your introduction. It made Astarion want to fawn over you, alternating between whispering sweet nothings in your ear and sweeping you onto the dance floor. All of your pleased laughs and giggles music to his ears.

He kept you close all evening, never allowing you to wander past his sight. His arm stayed firmly around your waist, never quite shaken off after your first waltz together. But you didn't seem to mind. If anything you were glowing under the attention, happy in a way he hadn't seen for a long time. Too long. Beautiful enough for him to have the overly romantic thought that he never wanted the night to end.

Even after he had done his rounds, engaged with all whom he had planned on, he wasn't quite ready to leave. They had all been dreadfully dull, but at least a few conversations would prove useful in the future at the very least.

He started to steer you towards the back garden doors, whispering in your ear, "Take a walk with me?"

You followed him easily, happy to leave the bustle of the ballroom and step into the coolness of the night. You both started walking, hand and hand in a comfortable silence. It was a pretty enough garden, hedges and ivy lining the walkways, a white slightly weathered gazebo placed in the center.

"You know," You said eventually, as the two of you went up the gazebo steps. You leaned against the railing, looking at him with a coy smile, "I don't recall you ever proposing."

Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he crowded around you. It was an unnecessary question, considering how you would have no choice in the matter. But he was playing nice tonight. Astarion grinned at you, bracing his hands on the railing to cage you in his arms, "If you want a proposal, I'm more than happy to oblige."

"I do," You were playing with the lapel of his jacket, looking up at him through your lashes, "Sooner than later if you don't mind."

"Your wish is my command," Astarion murmured, shameless as he started to kiss along the line of your throat, "I'm proud of you pet. You've been an angel all night."

"You haven't given me much to complain about," You said with a small laugh, your breath hitching when his fangs scraped against your delicate skin, hard enough to make pinpricks of blood bubble to the surface.

"You know..." Astarion started, pulling back to look you in the eye. His voice gentle but serious, "It could always be like this. If you let it."

"I... I know," You admitted, biting on your lower lip as you struggled for the words, "I-I want that. I want you. Even if... it's like this."

Astarion would take offense at the subtle dig if it was anyone else. But with you? He was just happy that you were finally coming around, at long last willing to accept the fate he'd set for you.

"You have it," Astarion promised, tilting your chin up to press a light kiss to your lips, "For as long as I breathe my love, you're mine. And I'm yours-"

You kissed him before he could finish, wrapping your arms around his neck, forceful in a way that he had desperately missed. But you were pulling back too soon, your mouth swollen and your lipstick slightly smeared, smiling at him like the precious thing you were.

How could he resist?

"I think you deserve a reward for tonight my pet," Astarion said, leaning in to softly kiss along your jaw, "For being such a sweetheart."

His hands were wandering, already moving to pluck at the delicate straps of your dress, slowly teasing them to drop down your shoulders.

You made no moves to stop him as your eyes darted around the empty space, "H-Here? But what if someone sees?"

"Then I'll tear their eyes out and feed them back to anyone who stumbles on us," Astarion said simply, smiling at the way it made you laugh softly.

"Violence isn't always the answer you know," You said, your breath hitching as he lightly bit your neck. Your dress still slinking down all the while, "I thought we talked about that?"

"Perhaps," Astarion murmured, "But it seems to usually work in my favor."

He had already managed to slip the straps down enough to ease the way, brazenly tugging the fabric until your breasts spilled from the top. He leaned back in, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth as you gasped; mewling when he began touching you, shamelessly pinching your nipples just to hear you whine.

He adored all your little noises, so easy to coax out of your mouth. He could feel his own cock pulsing in the confines of his trousers, the feeling getting worse and worse as you started to whimper.

Astarion let one of his hands travel further down, right through the slit in your gown. He traced the seam of your pussy through delicate lace, smiling into the kiss from how the simple touch had your hips pitching forward. He could feel you getting wet, already seeping through the fabric of your panties, your needy cunt already begging for his touch. And Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

He tore them from your hips, letting the tattered pieces fall unceremoniously to the ground before he started to rub his palm against your clit, more slick gushing out as you moaned.

You were clutching at his shoulders, panting into his mouth as he played with you. Your thighs tightened around his hand, your cunt wet enough to fill the air with messy, indecent sounds.

Whatever trepidation you had before was quickly dissolving, a small chant escaping your lips as you two kissed, Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

"Hold onto me darling," Astarion ordered, giving you a split second to tighten your grip around his neck before he was lifting you in the air, settling you on top of the thick railing with your legs spread wide. He made quick work of taking his weeping cock out, rubbing it along the seam of your cunt as you moaned. And then he was pushing inside, the slide soaked and easy.

You felt so tight around him, tight and sopping wet as he started to fuck into you. He bent his head down, popping one of your hard nipples into your mouth as you cried out, your nails clawing into his shoulders. You wrapped your legs around his hips, trying to pull him in even closer, despite the fact that he was pressed deeply inside of you. Hitting all of your sensitive places.

He could tell that you were close, your whining getting more and more high-pitched by the second, your sweet cunt pulsing around his cock. Astarion started to rub at your clit again, at the perfect angle to make you tense up and cry out. And just like that you were squirting against his hand, breathing heavy as your orgasm ravaged through you.

Astarion grinned, popping off your breast to kiss your slack mouth. Naughty thing that you were, making a mess all over your fancy dress. He pulled back to look at you, debauched and panting, your pupils dilated at you stared up at him. You looked gorgeous, fucked out and perfect.

He started to fuck you harder, the erotic image was too much for his mind to handle. You where whining with each thrust, no doubt oversensitive as he roughly slammed into you. But you were a good girl, taking it without a single complaint as you held on for dear life, tears springing to the corners of your eyes. But lucky enough for you, you didn't have to wait long.

Astarion spilled inside of you with a drawn out moan, grinding circles into your cunt as you quivered. You pulled him in for another kiss, messily sliding your lips together as he filled you up. The two of you stayed like that for awhile, lazily kissing as he softened inside of you. It felt good, it felt right, the perfect end to a great night.

Astarion pulled out slowly, cooing at you as you gasped at the feeling. Your legs were still trembling as he set you back on the ground, bad enough for Astarion to wonder if he should just pick you up before you crumpled on the floor.

But first...

Astarion dropped to his knees, ignoring your surprised gasp as he spread your legs back apart.

"Hush darling," Astarion ordered as he pushed your dress back up, "Let me have a look at you."

Astarion was aware that he had gotten a little rough near the end there. It wouldn't be the first time he made you bleed during sex, nor the last. But he would hate to do so accidently. But no, your pussy looked perfectly healthy, if not a little swollen. Flushed and pink, your hole still twitching the slightest bit. The sight of your pussy all slick and red was nearly enough to make his mouth water.

"Spread your legs a little further pet," Astarion murmured, looking just to look. He gently added pressure to your shaking thighs until you complied, "That's it. Good girl."

His cum was already starting to leak out of you, the smallest bit of white making it's first appearance amongst your wet folds. No doubt it would be sliding down your legs soon enough. He could do something about that. But then again... the alternative sounded like too much fun.

Astarion stood back up with a smile, patting your pussy once before letting your dress fall back down, "Try to hold it in darling. We wouldn't want to make another mess, would we?"

You nodded slowly, still looking half out of it. A sweet, hazy look still plastered onto your face. You were already leaning in for another kiss, naturally desperate for more contact. Contact that Astarion was more than happy to give. He pulled you closer, kissing you deeply; your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him even closer. He wrapped his arms around your back, dipping his tongue between your lips as you dreamily sighed.

You pulled away first, to his displeasure, but you didn't go far. You rested your forehead against his, smiling softly with loving eyes, "Hi."

Astarion couldn't help but smile back, taking the time to tuck a wild piece of hair behind your ear, "Hello my treasure. Did you have fun tonight?"

"I think you know the answer to that," You giggled softly, "I'm not even sure I can walk."

That he did. And there would be many more nights like it. Though for now, he'd prefer to get you home. He felt a bit reluctant to parade you back out there for the masses eyes, so obviously debauched by his hands. No, the sight of you happy and flushed was for his eyes only. Your night would be ending here.

You squeaked as he swept you up in his arms, already muttering the magic for a portal under his breath. And just like that the two of you were gone, completely uncaring to give any good byes.

The two of you popped right into the entry hall of the estate, sudden enough to nearly scare a maid half to death. Astarion paid them no mind, too busy with carrying you upstairs to the sanctuary of your quarters.

You cuddled into his chest, looking up at him with a nervous look, "Did... Did I do good tonight?"

"Of course you did," Astarion cooed as he kicked the door to the bedroom open, trying to softly drop you on the bed, "Perfect creature that you are, what else could have possibly happened?"

But you didn't let go when he tried to pull back, clinging hard enough for Astarion to simply follow you. But he didn't mind, no he preferred you like this. Needy, wanting, and his. He twisted the two of your around, settling only when he had you laying on top of him. He would set a bath for the two of you later, but for now he was more than happy to lay here, watching as your tired to stay conscious. You always got so tired after sex, just one more silly thing that he was endeared by.

"I love you," You mumbled, your eyes falling closed, "Thank you for taking me tonight. For trusting me. I... thank you."

"I love you too darling," Astarion murmured back, kissing your forehead, "You get better by the day. I really am proud of you."

It was true. You were learning, adjusting. Give him a decade and you'd be completely immersed in your new life, all thoughts of useless things like "freedom" forgotten.

You were his. Until the end of time, you'd be together.

He'd make sure of that.

[maryellencarter]

So I'm really struggling to get this into a logical sequence of thoughts but.

There was a Trump assassination attempt. President Biden said (paraphrased) "that is bad, we do not assassinate our political opponents around here". The entirety of the internet, give or take a few percentage points, seems extremely angry about this.

I think this sums up Biden's problem in this campaign. The thing is, I don't think it's a problem he needs to *fix*. Any more than I need to fix "not being an addict" in order to access more social services. It's not something he should do differently, but it is something that I think is blocking him badly.

Namely, he is a normal politician trying to operate within politics. We don't assassinate our political opponents, we don't arbitrarily break our treaties, we respect the checks and balances of our governmental structure.

The problem is that non-Trumpers in this country don't want someone who plays within the rules. Look at any Twitter or Tumblr thread, look at the handmade posters on the fucking subway.

They want -- *we* want, you may want, it's very hard not to want -- "Trump but on our side". Why doesn't Biden just do everything with executive orders? Why doesn't he have Trump assassinated himself? Why doesn't he, in short, become Trump in order to prevent Trump?

Because, in defiance of what Terry Pratchett called "humanity's tendency to bend at the knees", he is doing all he can to keep being a president -- an elected official, accountable to the people. Not a dictator. Not a king. Not someone who takes over.

I think it's fairly likely to lose him the election. Trump showed a taste of what a God-Emperor can do and people on both sides will now settle for nothing less forcible. I also think it's the only ethical thing he can do and I admire the hell out of him for it.

(It's very Tolkienian, really. He will not take power that is not his by right, even if it seems like the only way to prevent great evil, because it would turn him into the same exact great evil.)

[crag-dreams]

It’s the Saturday before Election Day 2024 here in the US, and stress/anxiety/fear/etc… is pretty high for a lot of people. That’s warranted, because another 4 years of Trump/GOP rule will harm so many people. You should do whatever you need to manage the next few days (including voting if you haven’t already), but I really want to encourage you to stop giving polls and “close race” media coverage much / any of your time or consideration.

Polling processes are wildly obsolete for how Millennial and Gen Z voters act compared to Gen X and Boomers (this is not a dig at these generations, just a factual observation). Polls are also easily manipulated to return a desired result, and the people running polls have a vested interest in getting your engagement. Keeping the results tight keeps eyeballs on them.

Similarly, the 24/7 media environment needs you constantly on edge and worried so you keep checking in and listening. They have no interest in a boring election or landslide victory. The majority of journalists have not risen to address this moment with the deliberate, in-depth reporting that we need. It’s far easier to throw together click-bait headlines to pump their numbers. It’s why they spend days covering the tiniest slip by Harris/Walz (and previously, Biden) while giving Trump/Vance a pass on every insane thing they say. Trump is *incredible* for news companies. He is so outrageous that their headlines write themselves, and as long as they don’t follow-up to truly report on him in a way that would end any other politician, they have unlimited content. Whatever you think about Biden, just remember: a single debate performance that wasn’t great was seized upon by the media (because it made for great engagement) and ended his candidacy. Trump can say the most batshit things (they’re eating the dogs!), and they minimize it at every opportunity, because he is good for them. They are sacrificing their journalistic integrity and responsibility at the expense of real people’s lives and rights.

So, what do we do if polls and most news coverage isn’t useful? Remember:

Trump lost the 2020 election. The Electoral College is the only reason it was even close. People were fed up then, and they are even more fed up now.

Roe was overturned by an activist Supreme Court that Trump is responsible for. In virtually every state-level election since then, the results have been outstandingly positive for Democrats, including in the Deep South™. This is why so many GOP politicians have stopped talking about abortion, even going so far as to remove their position from their websites, or directly contradicting themselves when asked about it. The only person making a decision about a woman’s body should be that woman, and these predominantly white dudes still don’t realize how badly they fucked up.

The majority of Trump’s former Cabinet and senior leadership have very publicly turned on him. While it would have been nice for them to do this earlier, it’s unprecedented to see so many prominent Republicans declare they will not vote for him. This doesn’t impact the hardcore MAGA crowd, but it absolutely speaks to more centrist Republican voters.

Trump has been convicted of sexual assault, and he is an adjudicated rapist. He’s been convicted of 34 felony indictments, with more to potentially come. Even though it seems like he never suffers consequences for these legal issues, it costs him voters. People who could justify supporting him before are finally reaching a limit, even if they don’t publicly admit it. (Some do!)

Also, more and more people who voted for Trump in 2016 and 2020 are willing to publicly admit they are tired of him and can’t do it again. His rallies are smaller and smaller, the crowds are less engaged, and, yes, people leave during his rambling rants more and more often.

Gen Z is getting to vote for the first time at any real scale. Say what you will about TikTok and other platforms, but they are more informed and showing up and caring about issues that didn’t move the needle for Gen X or Boomers. Remember the Access Hollywood, grab ‘em by the pussy, tape? That should have ended his original campaign, but it didn’t. Gen Z has found out about that, and it’s just one of so many things driving them to get out and vote. The turnout is going to be incredible.

Because we still use the stupid Electoral College, this election largely comes down to swing states. The Trump campaign has done almost everything imaginable to lose those voters. Whether it’s bashing unions (Trump said a child could do the same job as automotive workers building cars, he bragged about not paying overtime, etc…), immigrants (they’re eating the dogs, GOP-led states demonizing them), Puerto Ricans (calling their home a floating pile of garbage, Trump denying hurricane relief for almost two years), or women (abortion, telling women they should vote how their husband wants them to, Vance thinking their purpose is nothing more than baby-making, stay-home, wait-on-a-man’s every need), they are losing the swing states.

Elections are *incredibly secure and trustworthy.* The Trump/GOP camp has attacked this at every opportunity with virtually no success. The few instances of voter fraud we’ve seen in the last few years are almost entirely from Republicans. They have already started the narrative that the election is rigged if Trump loses. This narrative will only increase as results start to roll in on Tuesday. Don’t even worry about it. They will lose every / almost every single lawsuit they try to bring. It will have no impact on the eventual outcome.

Early voting, including absentee and mail-in ballots, turnout is incredibly encouraging. The higher the turnout, the better, and people are showing up. There’s fatigue and embarrassment on the GOP side (you’re gonna eventually hear from those voters that they stayed home, voted for Harris, etc…), and there’s excitement and motivation on the Dem side.

Are there reasons to be worried? Of course. The Trump campaign is going to try and obstruct the voting process in every way they can. They’re blocking poll monitors in Texas and Florida. Drop boxes in some states have been attacked. Voter rolls have been illegally purged. They’re bringing lawsuits (most of which they’ve already lost) even before Election Day. They’re going to claim fraud. They’ll probably incite violence again.

These are the actions of a desperate campaign that isn’t trying to actually win, because they know they’ve already lost.

So, we can acknowledge our stress, anxiety, and fear, but we don’t have to let it ruin the next few days. Get outside and enjoy (hopefully) beautiful Fall weather. Snuggle your pets. Listen to your favorite albums. Read a great book. Hang out with your people. Vote.

We’re a few days away from a massive weight being lifted from our shoulders. Don’t let it weigh you down until then.

[sadiecoocoo]

Can we talk about the fact that Viktor was kind of not doing the best thing?

(Please be aware that I do not play or read the lore for lol so this might all be info that everyone knows already or I might be completely wrong)

Yes he was healing people, but he was changing people.

Salo, the corrupt politician who didn’t give a damn about the undercity and was fully prepared to lead the charge in invading Zaun gets his legs healed and he just decides to live down in the undercity and work for Jesus because he helped him?

And not only that but also be perfectly okay with Viktor always being in his head and being able to take over his body whenever he pleases, even if Salo could still take his body back when he wanted to?

Not only that but NO ONE in that community cared about dying. The guy at the front gate, who I forget his name, had a gun pointed to his head and barely reacted. We know this character, for the few scenes he’s been in, to be a very reactive character. He always seemed a little jumpy and scared anytime he showed up, always stuttering and looking around like something was about to jump out at him, even before he took any shimmer. But now that Viktor healed him, he gets a gun pointed at his head, and he’s completely unbothered? And he was faced with Piltover’s army and was just “please no weapons :D”

Not only that but when Jayce was freaking out in the community and pointed the hammer at that kid, they just looked at it. And then they decided to take him to viktor, with the murder weapon (even though they had been very adamant on the no weapons rule before??). Still kudos to that kid to seeing a guy who needed help and immediately taking him to said help

Another thing, that really might just be my interpretation, no one actually looked happy. There were no kids playing, or adults just talking with friends. Everyone was always carrying some bag of supplies or working and everyone looked like there was some place they needed to be. The only people that acted like people were Vi, Jinx, and Isha.

And of course I can’t just not mention the fact that when Viktor died everyone that he healed died too. Which, y’know, isn’t normal

But this last point makes me feel like the community was some kind of hive mind. We know that when a queen bee dies, all the worker bees will eventually die too, unless there’s a bee keeper, even if it’s not instant like with the community. And going back to an earlier point, everyone was acting like worker bees, getting food for the colony and making honey.

Now, all this isn’t to say that I think Jayce was right, though I do believe he had a valid reason or was at least not in his right mind at the time, and he probably had no idea what all would happen when he killed Viktor

In conclusion, I really don’t think Viktor would have helped Zaun in the long run. Eventually, as Singed said, he would die, and then everyone else he healed would too. He would change people to become drone-like and completely monotone in all their actions. Of course, this doesn’t mean Viktor himself is in the wrong, because he clearly had no grasp of what he was really doing and was being heavily influenced by the hexcore in the guise of Sky. Still, looking deeper into it, the community was inhumane and a literal cult

(Also please think about how much Vander would change if he had been fully healed by Viktor, there’s no guarantee that he would even still care about Vi and Jinx since he would be influenced by the hexcore too through Viktor)

Thank you for reading this wall of a theory/rant, I’d love to discuss if anyone has any other points they’d like to add! :)

[cinnamonest]

I assume this is because I criticized Kamala Harris in my last post.

I want to address this because it's important to me and frustrations currently consuming my life, and I'm very emotionally unwell right now. I want to share my experiences and make a point I feel is important at this time.

Once again, this is very unfitting of the smut fanfiction blog and will be deleted later, even though I'm sure this is a huge follower-losing post, but whatever.

Forgive me for rambling so much, but I encourage you and people who think like this to read in entirety.

I realize things are tense right now in the US.

Part of the reason for my inactivity the past while (besides multiple hospitalizations) is that I'm glued to my screen every night now because I'm very scared. I've been spending all my time researching, watching videos from economists, etc.

(Preemptively, sources for everything I'm about to say: the FEMA Privacy Act Statement itself, the official CPB database, Helene People Finder, United States Council of Foreign Relations, Samaritan's Purse, NYC.gov, Starlink, Politico, ABC, CNBC, georgia.gov, nc.gov, tn.gov, my own life)

The US is an extremely high-tension, polarized political climate, largely due to the bipartisan system.

However, no one should be immune from criticism.

All politicians should be criticized when they do harm. I am allowed to criticize her, and I will.

Criticizing one candidate is not the same thing as endorsing/supporting their opposition.

3,000+ Appalachians are missing. The current death toll makes this the deadliest single event in the US since 1862. A higher death toll than Hurricane Katrina, a higher death toll than the events of 9/11/2001, a higher death toll than any mass shooting.

However, it is largely going completely ignored, and mainstream news media has barely acknowledged it, in part due to elections, but largely because the people who live in Appalachia are poor, rural people. And the harsh reality is that poor people's lives are not treated with the same value as people of higher classes.

FEMA continues to do nothing, and the feds are now threatening to take children away from homeless parents... yet they blocked donations of trailers and campers from nearby areas that would help those people to, you know, not be homeless. A kind group of Amish have come down from Pennsylvania to build shelters, and FEMA may tear them down too since they don't have "permits."

Harris had the opportunity to do something, and has the authority to order FEMA agents to act differently, but she chose to exploit the situation for publicity, then leave and otherwise ignore them. She then went on to pay Beyonce $10,000,000 to speak for 5 minutes.

That deserves to be criticized.

Her campaign continues to claim a good economy and job market, when inflation and cost of living has peaked, and just this month, their policies actually have officially led to one of the worst employment outcomes the United States has seen since the Great Depression, disproportionately affecting low-income workers.

That deserves to be criticized.

She has a bad track record during her time in the judicial system for the way her actions harshly affected underprivileged people, especially Jamal Trulove, who was terribly wronged.

That deserves to be criticized.

Furthermore, the reason FEMA/the government does not have money for Appalachia is for a few reasons, all of which were ordered, facilitated or allowed by the current administration:

1) we've sent over $100 BILLION to the IDF so they can keep blowing up hospitals and kindergartens,

2) we sent $175 BILLION to Zelensky so he can keep sending young men into violent deaths even if its against their will,

3) we just sent $100+ million to Lebanon even after the hurricane crisis, meaning the federal government explicitly chose to prioritize foreign aid over its own people,

4) money was taken directly from FEMA reserves for crises like ours, and used as part of a whopping $150,000,000,000 spent on mass migration — including free flights, a $20 million welcome center with a free-use "game room" with dozens of Xboxes plus free food/lodging, and in NY, an average of $1400 prepaid debit card per individual each month.

Meanwhile, Appalachians get a one-time $750 per family, and if you have insurance to cover anything, it's a LOAN you have to pay back (many "fact-checkers" are claiming this is false when its literally in the FEMA eligibility statement). Many of the independent line workers FEMA hired for repairs are reporting they have not been paid AT ALL since starting.

In other words, the money that was specifically reserved for saving lives in times of crisis was spent on video games and free money handouts.

That, holy hell, deserves to be criticized.

Secondly, I want to address the message itself.

I realize that a lot of the american tumblr userbase is 1) people young enough that they're still partially financially dependent on parents and/or 2) are, like most of the US statistically, earning middle-class incomes, and live in fairly population-dense environments.

Most people outside the US, on the other hand, are getting their perceptions of life, politics, etc in the US from the posts/narratives of people within the aforementioned groups, popular culture, and their own local media, so their perspective is often quite limited, to no fault of their own. I'm sure my perspective of life in other countries is also very limited.

Most of you live in places other than where I live, and live very different lives from mine. As humans, we are naturally prone to subconsciously assuming the lives of others are not too different from our own, and do not naturally stop to consider how various factors might affect people's lives and decisions.

We are social beings, prone to adopting the beliefs of others who have the same experiences and thereby the same limited perspectives as us, especially in ideologically homogenous environments.

However, I have just as much of a voice as anyone else.

My hope is that I can use my words and experience to foster empathy for one another between different people in a very polarized climate at a very tense time.

I'm originally from a fairly rural community of about 8,000 people, largely low-income, low-education, evangelical blue-collar workers and farmers, in the Bible Belt.

It is well-known that this demographic overwhelmingly voted for Trump. I don't deny that. I visit home a lot, I see the yard signs everywhere, flags hanging from pickup trucks and farm fenceposts, lots of red hats.

There is a reason for that.

The administration of the past four years has utterly destroyed many rural, low-income communities.

It caused a huge spike in job layoffs, leading to homelessness, drug abuse, hunger and poverty for many already low-income people, and for select communities, violent crime.

I'm fortunate enough to have had parents better off than most of the community, but I'm self-sufficient now, and I am in the bottom 20% of incomes in the US, even with a degree. I could write endless paragraphs on how hard it is to get by, but to summarize for the sake of shortening — it's very, very rough.

Everything has become drastically more expensive, very rapidly over the course of a few years. Groceries are 3x their 2021 prices. I had to get a guarantor for a one-bedroom apartment.

Many rural families resort to drastic measures to get by. Small farmers are being financially strangled out of their way of life.

The actions of the Biden-Harris administration is the reason a huge portion of my extended family was laid off and now face total destitution, as there are simply no jobs left available.

The Biden-Harris border and crime policies are responsible for the brutal rape of a significant number of women and girls in this geographic region. Statistically, these rapes have quadrupled compared to the previous administration.

A woman was raped and stabbed to death about a mile from where I live.

Our nearby neighbor, a cow farmer back home, was attacked on his own property.

I have personally faced multiple instances of sexual harassment and aggression, some of which were very frightening. I know other girls nearby experienced the same or worse.

Alcoholism and hard drugs due to the spike in unemployment and poverty has ruined many lives, and help is often hard to access in rural regions.

A woman my mom was acquainted with ended her own life in 2023 because her children were taken from her due to her drug addiction and poverty. People I played with on the church playground as kids are now unemployed heroin addicts.

I've watched my mom driven to tears after realizing how drastically her income tax increased, and how little she has left after them despite working around the clock.

All of these can be traced back to the policies and actions of the current administration, and the current Harris-Walz platform's proposals will drastically increase it all — largely voted for by people who live in economic situations and locations as such that they are fairly unaffected by these consequences, so they may not understand how it affects these people.

I could write endless paragraphs of all the people I know who have been at best negatively affected, at worst utterly ruined, by the current administration.

Since I have the unique background of understanding these people whilst having more liberal values as an individual, with a broad range of people I interact with now, I have tried to have discussions on this over the last year or so, in real life and virtually. I believed that raising awareness would make people on the left-leaning side empathize with them, and inspire dialogue to work to implement ways to account for the concerns and needs of the rural poor, and incorporate that into their existing proposals.

I was incorrect. I've been very polite and respectful in how I address others in these discussions. In the vast majority of interactions, I was not given the same in return.

A few were receptive, which I appreciate, but in most of my experiences, the same group that is known for encouraging empathy, apparently doesn't apply that philosophy to people they dislike — no matter how I presented it, they immediately rushed to demonize, censor, humiliate, shame and gaslight me, and expressed callous apathy at best, if not active contempt, for my people.

They say "that doesn't happen," and I think they genuinely believe that due to limited perspective — but the reality is that they're simply in a position of privilege as such that it isn't happening to them.

Similarly, what you have to understand is that from the perspective of many rural people in red areas, their experience is that more privileged people inflicted this suffering on them by voting for it, then silence and shame them for speaking out about it.

Likewise, they also have a limited perspective — for them, the issue I see is that they adamantly believe the "other side" is already well-aware of the effects their choices have on others. I don't think this is true, I think many on the other end are unaware of these issues.

This dual lack of understanding creates mutual resentment and bitterness, which fuels tension.

I will say that trying to explain how girls in my community were assaulted or my own harassment, only to have it spammed with replies along the lines of "don't care" or "deserved" or calling me a liar, seeing posts mocking or wishing harm on people like my family accumulate tens of thousands of likes, having people I care about referred to as "trailer trash," passive-aggressive statements implying I'm too unattractive for a man to harass — this, along with other distasteful actions I've seen, has pushed me away from the left as a community, and I don't think that's unreasonable.

Similarly, labeling people you know nothing about as bad people, without making any effort to understand their circumstances or what they actually believe and why, will drive people away and make them resentful.

My community is multiracial, women are highly valued in southern culture for various reasons, and they themselves are marginalized and underprivileged. They're kind people who have been good to me.

I haven't really met any people who are hateful, nor is hate the reason for their votes — they're all voting as they do because they are scared, exhausted, grieving and desperate. A lot of people in the area never voted before, but are now registering to vote in droves because they feel their backs are against the wall, so to speak.

Moreover, Orange Man himself redirected $14 million dollars to Appalachia, continues to raise awareness for them in speeches, and Musk, who is associated with him, has a team working to help Appalachians. He's also the only noteworthy figure that has acknowledged certain issues affecting them.

They realize that the situation in Appalachia could just as easily be them in the future, that they'd be given the same treatment.

This has resulted in a lot of rural poor people feeling that he cares more for their lives, compared to Biden/Harris who more or less neglected them. Which, considering that, is a fairly reasonable conclusion on their end.

Finally, it is true that blue voters tend to be in favor of abolishing or ruining crucial aspects of our way of life that, I say this politely, they do not fully understand, while the people here want to preserve their way of life.

So, while I have more liberal values that differ from most people back home, I don't believe they are bad people. They are reacting very reasonably to the circumstances they're in.

All I ask of others is to consider, no matter where you are or what beliefs you align with, and no matter what happens tomorrow, that the "other side" to your own may not be the evil people you have been led to believe they are, but are humans whose lives are simply different from yours, and they are acting in accordance to their experiences, circumstances, and fears.

The growing trend of demonizing political opposition with no attempt at empathy, only creates more pain in the world. I hope this has helped to foster better understanding, and that people can be kind to one another.

That is all I wanted to say.

[clonerightsagenda]

I'm really grateful I have a group I'm already involved in right now, because I'm seeing a lot of despair and "I don't know what to do" and "I'm the only one in my community who feels this way", whereas we're like. well. we know what to do. It's going to suck, it might not work, people are going to get hurt in the meantime no matter how hard we try to limit the damage, but we do know what we need to do.

The reality is, this is not a mobilization problem. It's not going to get fixed by convincing more people to go to the polls, or if a few third party voters had held the party line, so you might as well stop blaming them. Actually unfortunately the next steps rely on stopping blaming individual people, but go ahead and take however long you need to get it out of your system. I get it.

As I said, it's not a mobilization problem. A large portion of the population voted the way they did on purpose, and a big reason for that is because for a large portion of the United States population, life kind of sucks and has been getting worse. The Democratic party has failed to run on a coherent narrative of why this is and how they're going to make it better. The Republican party, on the other hand, has run on a very strong narrative of how they will make it better by getting rid of all the things and people who are to blame. It's a narrative that has worked for a lot of groups in the past. It's working now, in the increasingly polarized social media landscape, even in demographics Democrats have typically considered safe. Everyone loves the luxury of having someone to blame.

Unfortunately, the fix to this is long, and slow, and hard. It's not begging politicians for scraps. It's getting offline and going outside. Talking to your neighbors about their lives, their fears, their needs, and what kind of world would meet those needs. Even the one with the Trump sign in their front yard. Some of these people are in it for the racism and the cruelty and siphoning everything to their rich cronies, but a lot of them are struggling and desperate and grabbed for the life preserver someone threw them, even if it's secretly stuffed with arsenic. If thrown a different life preserver, they can be convinced to grab it.

And no, it's not ok that they decided to shove vulnerable minorities' heads under water just so they could theoretically get theirs. You're allowed to be angry! But unfortunately further isolating these people only pushes them deeper into the fascist movement ready to embrace them. They need to interact with real representatives of the groups they've been trained to blame and fear. They need to be given a different narrative with real solutions, but screaming it at them on Twitter won't do it. Long conversations where people take their hardships seriously but direct them more constructively might.

That's not going to be easy. You may not like or forgive them. And not everyone can do this work! It's going to be safer for white, not visibly queer/gnc folks to make some of these initial contacts. (At one of our meetings, a femme woman of color was talking about canvassing transit riders and dealing with misogynistic comments and having to decide, ok, where do I personally draw the line saying I cannot work with this person versus being aware that a lot of people are not steeped in politically correct language and can change. It's a tough line to walk!) People also aren't interested in answering their doors for canvassers these days, so organic social connections work best. Maybe you're talking to people in your workplace. Your apartment complex. Your neighborhood. Your own family. Maybe you join a book club full of seniors at your public library. Many people want positive change! My state notoriously always votes for progressive ballot measures and then turns around and votes in conservatives who try to dismantle them. There's a logic gap there, but in that gap is a potential for conversation, because we have places where we already agree and want to work together.

The theory here is, if we can talk to enough people, if we can build genuine real world offline connections where we agree on our shared problems and our shared desires for a better world and come up with solid solutions beyond pointing fingers, we can build a large enough coalition to start making demands, most likely through targeted disruptions (strikes, walkouts, etc.). The handy thing is, if you can get that many people demanding something, it doesn't actually matter which party is in power.

Is that possible? I don't know! Organizing that many people is really really hard. It's hard reaching out to people who've just punched you in the gut. Some people will not change. Some people will have hard lines that don't mesh with your hard lines. And I'm certainly really scared myself about the likely takeover of all three branches of government and probable draconian measures against dissent. We're going to have to carefully consider risk/reward when planning actions and disruptions. We're going to have to fight through fear and exhaustion and apathy and pain and betrayal, and I don't know if we can. I don't know if I'll see something like this happen in my lifetime (although the UAW sure is gonna try in 2028). Hell I don't know if we'll have elections 4 years from now. But that's the path. If you're not up for walking it right now, that's fine. If you're not up for walking it ever, ok. But I don't think there are any shortcuts or miracles. This is what we can try, and if it fails, at least we did what we could.

(If you see this post and your instinct is to reply with some variation of 'nice speech but we're all fucked and might as well give up', I understand why you feel this way. It's a feeling a lot of us are struggling with right now. Take the time you need to take care of yourself, and when you're ready, you can come back and we'll be happy to have you.)

[reasonsforhope]

Btw, if anyone cares to know, my position on Biden and the 2024 election is this:

Starting September* 1, 2024, I will be doing whatever I can to make sure that Trump does not get a second term as president

Until that day, I'm going to be doing whatever I can to push for an end to the genocide in Gaza and an immediate ceasefire, and that includes criticizing, protesting, and lambasting Biden for funding and providing weapons for Israel's genocide

ETA: I will still be posting about significant good things the Biden administration has done, though, because some of it is a really big deal that people deserve to know about

ETA: But I will not be defending Biden from any criticism around Palestine/Israel/war crimes

*This originally said October 1st but someone pointed out to me that there are a few states where early voting starts in late September, including a couple swing states, so I changed it because that's a very good point

I don't plan to tell anyone not to vote for Biden in the meantime, myself, because shitty two party system and I'm really serious about Trump not getting reelected

But I'm also not going to do anything to discourage people who are seriously rallying against Biden, because he is, you know, literally bypassing Congress to make sure he can fund crimes against humanity

I never want to diminish that reality.

And more than that: If we want genocide to actually be a dealbreaker for politicians and presidents... then we need to start acting like it could be.

--

Details/related thoughts:

I will still be posting about good things Biden and his administration are doing, because they are the ones running the US government and Congress is super deadlocked, so a lot of the national-level good news in the US has been done by his administration, and I'm not going to stop posting about that good news

Shout-out to the anon who accused me of being a US government propagandist with a whole PR team bc I posted about Biden a few days in a row. I promise you I'm blogging from my bed in my pjs and do not have a PR team lol

Also, for people who don't think we should be spreading serious criticism about Biden, for fear of Trump winning in 2024: I hear you--that's an incredibly valid fear. I've struggled with that myself, in the process of coming to this(/these) decision(s). But consider this: it's better that we really pile on the criticism and pressure now, because a) people are dying, and b) Biden's chances will be much worse if Israel is still bombing/decimating Gaza on election day

Relatedly, for anyone who's tempted to think Trump would be better when it comes to the Gaza genocide, again, it's really understandable to want to put your hope in any viable alternative. However, I promise you that is not going to happen. Joe Biden at least conditionally gives a couple shits about human life. Trump doesn't. Remember Trump's Muslim ban? In all likelihood, Trump would just tell Israel to bomb Gaza harder and ban Palestinian refugees from entering the US

Last thing on Trump: maybe this is naive of me, but for a lot of reasons, I'm not actually particularly worried about Trump winning in 2024. If I was, I might have made some different calls here. I have a few asks about this in my inbox and will probably make a post at some point about the reasons why, but yeah, Democrats have mostly been wanting to run against Trump instead of DeSantis or Haley or whoever for some very real reasons

You're welcome to disagree with me/this post in any direction, btw

Seriously, I'm just a random person who doesn't speak for anyone besides myself and my own blog. I'm not saying these are categorically the right answers, or that any of this is what everyone should be doing. This is simply the system I have settled on (right now) for how I personally want to handle all of this

You're welcome to disagree with me but please don't send me any angry asks about any of it. Not that I in any way get a lot of those, thankfully! But yeah, this isn't something I'm interested in debating, this is mostly for notification/explanation purposes

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A message.

I’d like to start by saying once more (due to it being the cause of so many hateful messages) that I support Palestine.

I donate to charities that fund several of the organisations that help and I use my business in the best way I can to give my services for free to fundraisers that also raise money for these causes. Shy of showing you my personal bank statements and private emails between myself and my clients, I don’t have any ways of showing this on tumblr.

I have several social media platforms, I have a business that I run, I have friends and family I talk to, I have an entire life off of this website. I choose to use tumblr to post my writing and for the most part, it’s become a really important space for me. Writing is one of the few things I truly do for myself. I enjoy it immensely and it can really bring me a lot of peace.

I choose not to blog anything other my writing, other people’s writing and general fandom related things on my blog because I like to keep it as that small space for myself and one of the things I love most. I understand wholly that that is a privilege in itself and I will not shy away from that fact.

However, I will not condone being hunted for the choices I make. For the vast majority of you, I am a stranger online and no one, absolutely no one, knows what I do off of this website. I won’t allow anyone to judge me on what they don’t see and don’t understand.

The size of my following was not a choice I made, it was not something I deliberately aimed for and it was not something I tried hard to make sure I achieved. It wasn’t the goal of this blog. I don’t deem myself capable of “influencing” anyone in anyway. I’m a fanfiction writer. I’m not a politician, I don’t claim to be the most educated person on political and worldwide matters. I simply would like to believe that everyone tries to help in anyway they can. I know not everyone has the financial means to donate and instead they choose to raise awareness in other ways - that’s absolutely okay.

But I - and others - do not have to follow the rule book someone else deemed law. You see, I gave my views and reasons and it wasn’t good enough. And now, if I chose to reblog certain things, I’m pretty sure I’d be dragged for being performative, or “back tracking.” I fear that with some people, who like to hide behind an anonymous button, I cannot win. Despite an argument revolving around real life issues, I think I can safely say it came across as a very personal attack.

As other people have mentioned before, I also don���t enjoy the idea of writing smut and happy ever after’s about our favourite fictional men and then reblogging the death of others in real life straight after. I know that’s the world right now. I’m aware. I read articles, I watch the news, I follow accounts on Twitter, on Instagram and I try and keep myself as up to date and as educated as possible. I just don’t show that on this one platform.

As many of you know, I do run my own business. I’m also five months pregnant. I’m definitely experiencing more stress than I usually do. I’m very happy and enjoying my pregnancy immensely but I struggled with sickness and tiredness for the majority of it so far. Whats to come in the next four months and beyond fills me with excitement and anxiety and nerves. Coming onto tumblr and writing about fiction is a little reprieve from that - again, a privilege I am so aware of.

But I won’t be tolerating any more hateful messages, I won’t be arguing with anyone. I’m not lowering myself to it. You can talk about me passively aggressively, you can choose to hate me, that’s fine. I’m happy blocking people and moving on. Anons will be off indefinitely, it’s been proven that too many people are willing to hide behind them. After the messages regarding myself and my unborn child, quite frankly, there’s not a lot of trust left when it comes to knowing how far people will sink.

I’ve said all I’d like to say on the matter, I’ve told people where I stand, my views on the genocide that is occurring, what I’m able to do about it in my personal life and why I choose to keep this particular space the way I do.

I hope everyone can try to understand and respect that. If you don’t, that’s fine, that’s your prerogative. I don’t go out of my way to challenge, or police, or demand things from people I do not know. I hope that no one thinks that they have the right to do that to myself and others. I’m under no obligation to follow someone else’s rules.

I don’t know what the future holds for this blog, pregnancy and real life is very much taking priority over writing at the moment, but I do like to try when I can. I can’t lie either, the messages and their content that I received really left me feeling dejected and frustrated, this fandom really has turned into something rather poisonous. I’d like to be able to rise above it and in the mean time, even if I’m not always present, I’d like people to be able to access the stories I worked really hard on.

Thank you for reading,

Emmy 🧡

[joannechocolat]

On why women’s rage is a superpower

My mother hates my new book. I gave her a proof just a few days ago, and although she’s still only halfway through, she can’t wait to tell me all the ways in which she hates my novel.

“Is this science fiction?” she says. (She detests science fiction.) “Were you ill when you wrote this?” (I was.) And repeatedly, she says: “Why are the women so angry?”

I get it. She’s out of her comfort zone. At 83, with no internet, no interest in pop culture and a deep-rooted hatred of anything close to horror or the supernatural, she wasn’t my target audience. And yet it’s never easy to hear such criticism from a loved one. But in some ways, she isn’t wrong. Broken Light is an angry book. It came from a time of lockdown, when social media was my only window onto the world. It came from a place of trauma, when I was fighting cancer. It came from a place of corrupt hierarchies, self-serving politicians, anti-vaxxers, Covid deniers, victim-blamers, and those eager to blame all their woes on minorities. And of course, it arose against the background of the #MeToo campaign and the Sarah Everard murder – a murder that shocked the nation, not least because the murderer turned out to be a serving police officer with a reputation for sexual misconduct - which unleashed a collective howl of protest, as well as an ugly, misogynistic backlash. Even so, my story came as something of a surprise to me: the story of a woman’s rage, and, on reaching the age at which women often feel least valued, her coming into her power.

It surprised me, most of all because I wasn’t an angry person. At least, I didn’t think I was. Those who know me describe me as someone who tends to flee conflict, who generally tries to find common ground, who gets upset when people fight. And yet, writing this story, I found myself saying and feeling certain things on behalf of my heroine, Bernie Moon; things I might not have said for myself, but which felt right and urgent, and true, and strangely liberating.

Anger has a bad press. A woman’s anger, especially. While men are encouraged to express feelings of justified anger, women are often criticized when they try to do the same. Angry women are often portrayed as “harpies,” “banshees,” “Furies.” It suggests that a man’s rage is righteous, but that a woman’s is unnatural, making her into a monster. Male anger is powerful. The God of the Bible is one of wrath. Seldom is he ever portrayed as expressing any other emotion. In the same way, men and boys are often led to believe that expressing emotion is weak - except for anger, which is seen as acceptably masculine.

In comparison, women are often criticized when they show aggression. Angry women are hysterical, shrill, out of control, unreliable, unattractive, unfeminine. A perceived lack of “femininity” makes a woman less valuable, less worthy of respect and of protection. The Press coverage of women victims of violence is a case in point. A victim of violence needs to be attractive, white, gender conforming and virtuous in every way if she is not to be overlooked, or worse, portrayed as somehow having contributed to her misfortune. When trans teenager Brianna Ghey was stabbed, the Press were very quick to state that her murder was not thought to be a hate crime, whilst at the same time obsessing over – and questioning - her gender. When Nicola Bulley disappeared, police felt obliged to divulge details of her struggle with the menopause, as well as her alcohol issues, even though this was privileged information and of no public relevance. When Emma Pattison, the Head of Epsom College, was murdered alongside her daughter, the Press immediately assumed that her husband George must have felt “overshadowed” and “driven to distraction” by his wife’s prestigious job. In all three cases, the victim falls under the hostile scrutiny of the Press, while the perpetrator is given an excuse. In all three cases, the victim – one trans, one hormonal, one better-paid than her husband - is effectively portrayed as “unnatural”. Subtext: Unnatural women do not deserve the protection of the patriarchy. Unnatural women come to bad ends.    

Once you start to acknowledge it, rage grows at a surprising rate. Over the past three years, I have found myself growing increasingly angry. Angry at the injustices committed by our Government; t the greed of corporations; angry at the prejudice extended to those who are different.

Connecting with others on social media has made me more aware of the lives and experiences of those from different backgrounds to mine, and with different levels of privilege. For a long time I’d been resistant to calling myself a feminist. Feminists are angry, I thought. What right have you to be angry?

Growing older, I realize that this was my mother speaking. A woman of a certain generation, who although she was aware of the challenges of living in a patriarchy, still had a level of privilege that many women do not share. White, professional, cishet women can sometimes have the luxury of choosing not to be angry. White, professional, cishet women can sometimes have the illusion of equality. But feminism isn’t only for just one kind of woman. A feminist must look beyond the limits of their own experience. And that’s where the anger really starts: anger at injustice; anger at corruption and lies. Most of all, anger at the prejudice against certain people for just being themselves; for being transgender, or Black, or old, or simply not conforming to what a white, patriarchal society expects and values. And once you start seeing injustice, you start to see it everywhere. It’s like an eye, which, once opened, cannot unsee inequality.

My anger flourished in lockdown. A time of growing divisions. Masks are invaluable in a pandemic, and yet they inhibit connection. They serve as a kind of reminder of who can speak, and who is to be silenced. While Boris Johnson was urging the public to trust the police, a vigil for Sarah Everard was broken up, with violence, by officers citing lockdown laws. While elderly people were dying alone; while I drove for four hours just to go for a half-hour walk in the park with my son; while I sat alone in my chemo chair, politicians were partying. Billionaires were enriching themselves. Behind the mask, the eye opened wide. I caught myself making faces behind my disguise at strangers. There was something weirdly liberating about this; as if, behind the piece of cloth, I could express myself at last. Not unlike writing a book, in fact. On screen, the eye opened wider. Bernie Moon, my heroine, was unlike like me in many ways, and yet anger connected us. The anger that comes from helplessness; from seeing others mistreated. Anger at a society that propagates inequality. And the anger that comes from hormones – those mood-altering chemicals that everyone produces, and yet which allegedly make women erratic; unreliable; hormonal.

In his novel, Carrie, Stephen King tells the story of a girl, whose telekinetic powers are unleashed by her teenage hormones. Carrie is unpopular, bullied, isolated. Her rage finds an outlet in her power. Driven to breaking-point by the bullies, she becomes a monster. Of course she does: after all, the author of this tale is a man, writing from the perspective of a couple of thousand years’ worth of patriarchal inheritance. In literature, a woman’s anger is unnatural; monstrous. It leads to terrible, unnatural things: makes murderers and infanticides of Clytemnestra and Medea; monsters of Medusa and Scylla. Unnatural, monstrous women are always punished in literature, even while acknowledging that they are often the victims of men. And unnatural women are often seen as physically repulsive – a reminder that, to be valued and loved, women must be young, and pure, and conform to the standards of beauty set out by their society. In literature, just as in life, those women who do not conform tend to be less valued, less seen, and when they do appear, do so as wicked witches, evil stepmothers, ugly crones and hideous travesties of womanhood.

But what would happen if a woman took control of the narrative? In recent years, we have observed a number of retellings of Greek myths from the point of view of the monster. Stone Blind, by Nathalie Haynes; Medusa, by Jessie Burton; Circe, by Madeline Miller. In both cases, the monstrous woman is seen from a different perspective; her rage absorbed and justified; her narrative reclaimed from a patriarchy that seeks to tame and subdue a woman’s rage, even at the cost of her life.

My new novel, Broken Light, comes from the same process of reclamation. It owes a debt to Carrie, but I have avoided the explicitly paranormal theme of the original, as well as the girl-on-girl bullying and the psychopathic mother. In my version, Carrie lives; marries her childhood sweetheart; internalizes all her rage and suffocates her power. Until the menopause – a topic which until recently has been largely misunderstood and taboo – at which point her power returns, and with it, a new kind of freedom. Freedom from the male gaze; from the responsibilities of motherhood; from the largely impossible expectations of society. Unlike puberty, menopause is triggered by a lack of certain hormones; and yet the symptoms can be just as dramatic and isolating. Loss of libido, exhaustion, depression, emotional outbursts as well as unpredictable and alarming hot flashes – my version of Carrie’s pyrokinesis. Whether my heroine’s powers stem from any kind of paranormal source is very much up to the reader to decide – after all, paranormal is only a step away from unnatural. And what counts as unnatural is in the eye of the reader – an eye that has been opened, I hope, to a series of new possibilities.

One is that rage is natural. Living in a patriarchy, women have a right to their rage. In fact, it seems more unnatural to me when women are not angry, given how much misogyny remains in our society. And growing old is natural. Being hormonal is natural. Differences are natural; so are disabilities. All women matter; whatever their age, or colour, or sexual orientation, or marital or reproductive status. The value of a woman’s life should not be defined by her popularity, or her age, or her looks, or her kids, or her value to the patriarchy. And no-one else gets to decide what a woman ought to be. A woman is not what, but who - a person, not an object; an active participant in her world. Women have lived too long behind the mask. They deserve their own stories. Stories in which they are allowed the full range of human possibility. So, to answer my mother’s question: Why are the women so angry?

Because it’s a superpower.

[whateversawesome]

SxF Chapter 91: Perspective, History, Empathy

Let me start by saying that I didn't think this chapter would make me so emotional. Was it the same for you?

A small side character like Millie, who we saw only as one of Yor's annoying co-workers, turned out to have a very sad backstory and gave us a glimpse of how things are for young people in Ostania.

This chapter talks a lot about people understanding and misunderstanding each other. Millie was just talking about her own experience and feelings, she was explaining why it was so difficult for her to help during an event like this, and that lady felt personally attacked because she saw things from her own point of view and her sufferings.

In no way the story discards any of those ladies' sufferings; what they went through during the war was very difficult, I'm sure. Nevertheless, comparing their sufferings and demanding Millie to act the same way just because they were able to do it, it's not right.

They both had different experiences because their circumstances were different, so they face life in their own way. That's exactly Yor's point.

Here, Yor demonstrates her best quality (and one of the many reasons why her husband fell in love with her): Emotional strength.

I've said it before and I'll say it again; Yor is a very emotionally intelligent character. The way she stood up for Millie displayed all her emotional strength. She called out that woman in such a smart way!! She wasn't rude but her words were true and very wise.

One of the most important things Yor mentions is that we cannot bear the same load because we're different. And I couldn't agree more👏

Also, if we take it as a metaphor, Yor is such a strong person because she carried a very heavy load: as a child and an orphan, she had to take care of her brother. Because of this, a naturally kind person like her had to learn to murder in order to survive.

It was a beautiful chapter. On top of everything, we learned a few important things:

1.Yor did lose her parents during the war and because of the war.

2.Donovan Desmond did NOT start the war. But plenty of young people like Millie don't know that, so it's possible that since he was Prime Minister during most of the war, he gets blamed for starting it.

3.Donovan Desmond is hated by many. That's probably the reason why he's no longer in office. And it also wouldn't be surprising that the majority of people in Ostania who voted against him want to move on from the war.

3.Melinda still wears her wedding ring and, even though she's separated from her husband, she still counts him as an important person for her. I guess, you can hate a person's actions and opinions, hate what they have become, but care about them at the same time...their marriage is complicated.

4.Not only Yor and Twilight fear the SSS because of their jobs. The general population do too because they know rich and powerful people can make them disappear regardless whether they are spies or not. That means arrests and disappearences of innocent people are common.

5.There was a repression during war time. This means the state controls and restricts certain rights of its citizens. When war happens, the state may determine it's necessary to protect their country and citizens. Chances are that policing of others started then and Ostanians got used to living like that.

And now some questions:

Was Melinda being sincere? In my opinion yes (for the most part). Melinda is no longer campaigning for her husband. In fact, she's going there incognito. Since her husband is no longer the Prime Minister and they don't have any elections to win, she doesn't have to support this types of events. If you think about it, once a politician retires from the public eye, their spouse generally goes back to their normal life.

Something that caught my attention was that it was mentioned Melinda has a lot of enemies; probably because her husband has a lot of enemies too. If that's the case, it would be easier for Melinda to move abroad, where she could have a care-free life, yet, she has chosen to stay in Ostania. Why?

Melinda is still a very mysterious character. We don't know her plans or intentions. We don't know why she separated from her husband. My only guess is that she's suffered a great deal and that's why she's able to empathize with Millie, even though their experiences are different.

What do you think?

Bonus (to end on a light note):

This is the Sxf when we see Yor 😄