#even on internet things don't live forever

[araraito]

Kuroshitsuji book of circus ost is mostly gone from the youtube...

[curtailedwhale]

.

[inkskinned]

how do i contact apple bc actually i am currently going through an internet story but i don't have twitter.

which is to say that 3 weeks ago i was on vacation to the Azores with my family. due to girl pockets (iykyk) my phone fucking jumped into the ocean literally only because i lifted my leg above a 30 degree angle to avoid a wave. the phone was black. the sand was black. it was night. i had waded in about 2 feet deep. i think my guardian angel just closed his eyes.

i immediately reached a state of peace about it. maybe it was a sign from god or the universe. don't we all need to unplug. let's live in the moment or whatever. also, let's give the crabs technology, i just think it would be funny.

i come home. i haven't backed up my phone in a while (lol since 2022) and the shitty replacement i got is literally useless. i lost pictures of newborn babies. i lost contacts. i have to wrangle things together that need 2-factor authentication with a phone that's in the fucking ocean.

and then today i got this notification.

What in the everfuck. are you kidding me. this thing was IN THE OCEAN. like the ACTUAL OCEAN. like originally "find my phone" was reporting it as ABSENT.

and then i get this email:

she found it while she was SNORKLING. at the bottom of the actual ocean. it's been there for 3 weeks.

IT STILL WORKS.

which is to say. like how do i get her anything she wants, forever. i don't have any money but i would buy her a fucking boat of iphones to thank her. how do we get apple to give me a commercial. if nothing else i just want people to know that someone found my phone at the bottom of the ocean because how fucking fake of a story does this even sound.

what's going on. hello????????

[medicinemane]

Seriously, it would be a mercy to kill me. I'm begging for help dying. Do you not see why it's fucking torture to keep my alive while living with her? I'll never escape her, like there's just no practical way to make it happen

And yet, till I get my act together and find a way to die already, show must go on

[acid-ixx]

mild spoilers for chapter six for my series again &. again, but i really feel the need to ramble about this, and i'd love to hear anybody's opinion on this hehe.

as i write outline chapter six (and write for chapter five), i'd like to say i couldn't wait to write the reader's face reveal in bruce's perspective. and it's not just angst, for me, this plays a very pivotal turn for the series— because bruce will spiral to insanity.

to never once see a single portrait of your second youngest child, whose presence has long been erased from the manor, not a single image, nor trace of you is sickening to the heart, even if he scours through the internet day and night for a single memoir of you, nothing— but to find your portrait in alfred's living quarters and seeing you for the first time in forever? graduating a milestone no less?

god, he's in for a ride just analyzing every aspect of your physical appearance.

the color of your eyes, the shape of your nose, the quip of your mouth, the fat in your cheeks; even the length of your lashes! god, does he brand it into the deepest parts of his mind to never forget you anymore. his pearl, his treasure.

the longer he stares, the more he notices and gazes even more, obsessive as he stands lonesome in the room with every bone in his body locking up, his eyes unable to look away from the portrait that showcases his baby child.

and there, there it is that he concludes a detail so small it's unrecognizable for someone who's seen it for his entire life; yet it's all the same triggered deranged emotions deep within him.

— you don't just share him and your mother's traits, no, your smile is also reminiscent of his mother's.

martha wayne, who'd died in his arms, laying in a pool of her blood with a bullet grazed deep inside her body. his loving mother, who caressed his face whenever he'd cry from his nightmares, who'd shown him motherly love that until now he still craves.

she died with her pearl necklace that once decorated her porcelain neck spilling to the ground and stained with crimson.

you wore pearl earrings on your graduation.

the thought alone is enough for him to just snap.

this? this is the child that he's been neglecting far too long? who shares the same, loving expression of his mother's? his child? not even a single memory could be conjured with you but fantasies now do. if your happiest moments were within the picture frame that he holds with shivering fingers at present; could your smile be any wider if you'd be with him?

how come he never once noticed? why is bruce always destined to fail left and right? why, just why is he brimming with jealousy for all the people who must've seen your smile before him, and contempt for himself that he was never there to pick you up from the police station beforehand?

bruce isn't a heckler for favoritism, but a darker part of him is motivated to take you away from wherever you are, and to never let anybody else witness his beautiful, little treasure.

he's gotham's knight, first and foremost. but he's a father, too, with goals to protect his children just like a father should.

and the things he'd do for you, his child, now? anything.

if it means he has to see that smile, then he'll turn the world upside-down.

he has to protect your smile.

[fortunately-bi]

God after that rant in the tags I really do miss old Tumblr. Like not just for the nsfw stuff but also like, I miss all of the people I used to follow who disappeared and I never found. I miss the stuff I can't find anymore because it got unfairly nuked during the ban, I miss not having ads, I miss not having weird layouts and random blogs pushed on me and Tumblr live giving me heart attacks every time I think I accidentally clicked one. Like for a long while this site was just left alone with the occasional update and different color of blue and we all just kinda existed(at least that's how my dash looked). Tumblr feels like walking into a house I used to live in but now someone else lives there and they painted the walls a different color they changed a bunch of things. Like it's still the same layout, there's still things that pop up sometimes that poke at the nostalgia but it just feels weird.

[comicaurora]

wait, so what's goin on with JoCat? why are they the victim of the week?

This was a thing back in late 2023. JoCat received enough harassment for - and I cannot stress this enough - literally no reason that he left the internet entirely for several months with no promises to return. Some people called him weak for this, and those people are very lucky that I don't know where they live.

Everyone with a modicum of decency or empathy thought this was a huge tragedy and a failure of human goodness, and his absence was mourned across a staggering number of platforms even by people who only knew him by distant reputation. Of course, the people who think men shouldn't wear skirts or hairbows or express feelings thought this was a huge victory, and for reasons inexplicable to me, many self-declared online leftists seemed happy to side with those charming people in the triumph that they had successfully bullied and harassed a kind, sincere, GNC man so badly that he might have vanished from the internet forever. Apparently when it comes to punishing "cringe", no ally is too toxic to rally alongside.

With months to reflect and public opinion gradually catching up to the obvious conclusion that this was bullshit and should never have been allowed to happen, the handful of people who continue to act like their harassment campaign was in any way justified have mostly doubled down on "well I never said I WASN'T a huge dickhead" so they can pretty safely be ignored until they decide to start participating in the basic courtesy required for the human social contract again.

Thankfully Jo has held up pretty well with support from friends and loved ones, and has recently started being active online again. Putting himself back in the fray is an act of bravery I don't think I could match if I were in his shoes, but I'm glad he's feeling comfortable sharing the work he loves again, even if, in my opinion, the vast majority of the internet doesn't deserve that second chance.

[prettykikimora]

Americans have a little adolf hitler living inside every single one of them, and it comes out when they're mildly inconvenienced by or convinced they're under threat by a minority. Most people with the money to order food service all the time are making decent living, without what other nonsense classifications of hypothetical people you want to use as a cudgel, terrified white women looking you dead in the eye and saying it's feminist and empowering women's safety to automatically assume all men of color are out to get you because they expected a woman delivering their sandwich, and man showed up instead. We live in a hysteria culture, a fascist fourth reich society. It tells you to be afraid of everyone.Don't look at the statistics that's say a majority of assaults are carried out by people who know each other, just distrust people of color, EASY! You will be bought and sold if it means someone can get their treats on time. " I am disabled. I don't have to think about the consequences of my actions. I will report my food service workers to show up as someone different then what was shown in their picture." As if anyone who isn't insane even looks at that anyways. It is vastly entitled and disgusting to eliminate effectively this underground economy of people who are for whatever reason, unable to find normal work, use their friends account for doordashing. This is a common and unspoken practice and i'm afraid now got the little nazis on the internet here are raising a nothing fuss about it that's soon, we're all going to need real ID's and scan our Fucking eyeballs with our phones just a log into a fucking food delivery app to deliver j. fogle's forty five dollar single item from across town, being your personal chauffeur for a cup of coffee. It's a lack of respect for workers. A lack of respect for poor people, a lack of respect for felons, migrant workers, trans people, people whose account is just fucked up, it's just next door type people fuckin locked away in their house or work. Brain's becoming more and more fascist by the day because they live in a suburb and are disconnected from the lives of the average working person and they lack the compassion. pretty soon we're not gonna be able to do anything dude. Don't tell these petty bourgeois little creeps about selling food stamps.

I say all that having a big, stupid argument with people because, of course, like a golden trumpet sounding, a chariot from the gods raining down on us, The one pure example for them to point to of the person I tried to defend specifically bringing up this point that just because someone has a criminal record, they're not a danger to you specifically, unbeknownst to me for whatever fucking reason is a guy who Lost his job for a doordash because he killed somebody in a hit and run. And then it becomes something totally different, it's not a leftist, defending compassion, people down on their luck, and the rights of the lumpen proletariat, It becomes me suddenly saying "nobody should ever get a background check, meryl thinks it's cool That guy killed a guy, and it's still driving for doordash because he uses his friend's account now."

Doesn't that just figure.

You don't just get sent to jail forever. Life continues when you get out and you gotta do what you gotta do. A felon working for the Western express trucking company just brought you your groceries, a felon put out the fire Engulfing your forest. A felon made the hubcaps for your car and like a million other things, because the American economy is predicated on slavery still play another name, which is why the state of California voted against ending slavery buy another name Because it would mean higher prices and less jobs like ancient Rome, California is a disgusting place that grew so large because of efficiency in subjugation.

[smir7]

If 5000 people donated just 1$ each, it can save my career and life

Im an artist and I'll draw everyone who donates to me even if its 1$

Hi guys,

Im smir im an 18 year old University student i live alone and doing art is my only source of income

The past 2 months have been very hard for me and i am now late on all the bills but my biggest problem rn is that i might be expelled from my university if I don't pay the tution fee in 3 days as im already late for it

I know joining a college with weak financial condition was very risky move for me but it was my dream college and i didn't expect all the bad things that happened the past month

For me the college is my last hope for my future career as well because I can't be doing art for my whole life because just like this anything can go wrong and since i live alone college is my last hope for my life

I dont like asking for free money especially on the internet, this is a very tough situation for me so i will draw a sketch of everyone who donates to me 1$

I will draw a quick 10 min sketch to a detailed 90 min sketch depending on the amount

And if you want a sketch like the 1st,4th and 5th images above (sketch with some text on it)

I have created a seperate commision section for it as well

https://ko-fi.com/smir7/commissions

If you want a simple normal potrait like the 3rd image you can donate any amount to me on this link and I'll draw it https://ko-fi.com/smir7

I'll be forever grateful for everyone who donates and I'll make sure to draw a nice sketch for you

Please don't worry that i might not have time for doing your commision , im ready to work hard for a few weeks i can take as many commisions and sketches rn , it will be a busy 2 weeks from now but I'll draw all the requests without any exception

I will send a high resolution printable pic for all the sketches and commisions

Im planning on doing live streaming of drawing and doing personal art journal commisions soon once im free from this situation

Follow me if you're interested in the journey

(watermark to verify its me)

[boysbeware2]

all the old tptm girl journal entries w the new (if anyone wants to see them again and compare them)

please proceed with caution as many of these could be upsetting to read

disposable girl (jordyn)

(old)

i cant fucking stand this. i try so goddamn hard to make friends, to be attractive to people, to be even somewhat appealing to them etc etc. it never works. i thought it would get better the older i get. thats what i was told. guess what! i was fucking lied to!!! im alwasy left out of EVERYTHING i never get invited to shit and my own friends ignore me all the time. everyone looks at me weird. i cant go in public anymore im so fucking terrified of everyone. nobody fuckinf wants me, man. im so close to doing something stupid i feel so gross and ugly and dumb i should actually just die id be doing everyone a favor LOL

(new)

man, i havent been on here in forever. the internet is kind of dumb. what is there to say? my friend group celebrated our outpatient graduation anniversary the other day, that was pretty nice. we’re all trying to figure out housing stuff, nora’s been helping with that. freyja + mayra + kairi found a place already (how are they so responsible??) and the rest of us are trying to find places near them so we can visit more often. i never expected to have such a big group of friends. if you told me 2 years ago that i’d be living like this, i wouldn’t believe you. it’s still surreal to me. i’m not sure what i did to deserve them. same goes for my girlfriends. i don’t wanna say who just yet, we’re still figuring things out, but i’m just so thankful for them. i feel so lucky to have a second chance at life. i really didn’t believe people when they said it would get better, and then it did. how funny…..

irreverent girl (kairi)

(old)

I do not want God to see me anymore. I do not want anymore eyes on me. This is near unbearable. I have no one to turn to. My mother is in the church. Many of my friends are in the church. They would tell me to find hope through Christ. They would tell me to pray to Him. They would tell me that He will save me. He must not remember He made me, and if He does, He simply does not care. I know this is unbecoming of me, and I don't mean to be dramatic. I am simply depressed, nervous, and I cannot tell what's real and what isn't anymore. I know I'm supposed to hear God speaking to me, but I do not, and I am tired of straining my ears. I just want to see a doctor. I want some kind of tangible solution. I do not want to pray anymore. Praying hurts. I only do it when I am afraid, but I am afraid much of the time. I don't want to be unheard anymore. I do not want to hold out hope for someone who does not act like they're there. I am hurting. I am hurting. I am hurting. Belief is hurting me. The idea of God is hurting me. I need an out. I am hurting.

(new)

When I have a job and money and I can move away from my shitty Mormon parents

splitter girl (tahira)

(old)

theres something so broken in me thats beyond saving. so i dont know why i keep trying to be saved. i meant to kill myself when i was 18. i didnt. all ive wanted to do lately is kill someone or something. i havent. im too much of a pussy to plan anything concrete, no matter how much i hate everyone around me. no matter how much i get off to videos of people dying or how much i love cutting myself i cant actually take action against other people. i am fucking purposeless. i was born from evil and i will always be evil and i cant even live up to that. i hate myself i hate myself i HATE myself and the universe hates me too. i dont know what to fucking do at this point. i talked to one of my friends about wantingto die and they said smthn about hospitalizing myself. maybe. i dunno. i dont know what else there is for me/. my eyes are fucking burning from lookign at my computer for so long adn not getting any goddamn sleep. i am not a good person. i dont think i can be helped but i just dont wanna fucking keep goign to school and being around people and pretending like everything is norma;l. i cant keep doing it. what the fuck is wrong with me whagt happened. why cant i be loved or feel love for other people when did something change in me that switched the aggression and affection parts of my brain. im hyperventilating ill be back. maybe

(new)

getting myself onigiri from this one good boba place 2nite bc im 8 months clean…… its the little things~ ^^

fainéant girl (freyja)

(old)

i know i dont hate being disabled... i just hate being disabled in a society that makes existing difficult... but sometimes i really just dont want to be disabled anymore. i dont want my family to lecture me about how i could be helping out more, or how i should get a job. i dont want teachers to keep asking me whats wrong or the fuckin uni counselor to try to get me hospitalized. i dont want to be in so much pain anymore, to feel so exhausted that i cant even do so much as prepare food for myself, let alone do anything meaningful or fulfilling. its not fair. i shouldnt have to stay inside and sit in the dark all day,. i should be able to have friends. to talk to people and to go out with them and to feel like i am alive. its lonely and traumatic to suffer through this and on top of that no one around me understands, and they never fully will. i am tired of trying to justify my existence to everyone, to explain the pain that i am in and why i shouldnt have to experience it. i know the problem isnt me. i know i live in a world that isnt built for me. but if the world cant change then sometimes i truly feel that i should just stop living in it. my lifespan is already shorter than everyone else's anyways. what difference does it make

(new)

my qpps didnt seem to appreciate me playing Alien Kids Alien Rap for them. Do they even love me

caliber girl (nora)

(old)

唉～It is 3 AM and I should go to sleep but I can’t. I have a work zoom meeting early in the morning and I gotta hit the gym also because I haven’t done leg day in like… weeks. Oh well, it doesn’t even matter. My value is depleting but I don’t think I care anymore. The turnaround date for my code is also in a couple of days and I haven’t made any progress. I keep getting the same error and I’m too tired to figure out what’s wrong. I might get fired at this rate LOL(笑). If that happens, I think I’ll just consider ending it all. Not that anybody will miss me. God I sound so weak and pathetic right now. When did it get like this. How did it get like this. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse before and this is nothing. Ugh, why is it so hard to breathe? My chest hurts and I feel like something is wrong but I don’t know how to make it go away. Should I call someone about this? No. No one is awake or around to help. I’ll be fine. I’ll just sleep it off. Shake it off… shake it off…

(new)

My Tamagotchi beeped during a meeting fml

chocolate box girl (morgan)

(old)

i thought i was doing better but i cant stop thinking about them. their touch, their interests, their smile, everything. the worst part is that i miss them, after all of what they've done to me. i was 13. i dont even feel justified calling it rape since our relationship was so muddy... they never yelled at me or was angry at me, they just got so sad when i tried to speak my mind, and got all my friends to hate me when we finally broke up. i never said no so i feel like im insulting actual survivors by feeling violated. i wasnt even trying to get into a relationship with them, it just happened... i feel like everyone around me wants me in the same way they did, even though im an adult now and i dont even try to make myself appealing. i wish i could trust people not to take advantage of me, and i feel disgusting and selfish for feeling like everyone has ulterior motives of getting me to fall in love with them, or worse. that's so self centered of me. i dont know how long i can keep doing this

(new)

girl help i cant stop looking at anime figures on japan yahoo auctions !!!!!

taxidermy girl (mayra)

(old)

I don't remember ever not having a sex drive, is that normal ? I was born and then it was all downhill from there, something happened to me sexually i think, I don't know what happened, because I don't remember much, but something happened and I was beaten for it and yelled at and my mother hated me, and now I am an adult and I try to have sex, and I'm not there mentally, even if my body is participating, I feel like I am in the past again, being beaten and yelled at . I want to keep trying, I want to have fun, to feel safe in someone else's arms, to reach the heights of pleasure, but my mind scares me so much, I haven't been able to eat anything today because I feel so horrified by my body . If I was good I would have been born as a nonsexual being, no parts, no desires, no instincts, a blank slate, too empty to be enjoyed . Do you know what it feels like, to have your mother tell you people want to sexually abuse you when you are a child, and then to be made fun of by your peers for being so ugly, to have your middle school and high school classmates joke about how much they don't want to have sex with you ? I am illicit and undesirable at the same time, I am everyone's last option, I am nothing and still too much, rotting deer meat on the side of the road . I wish I had been born as something beautiful and pure, I wish I could start over, that whatever that initial sin was had never been committed .. I want to start over

(new)

Went to a kink event the other night and everyone was so nice … The low lights were fucking with my vision so one of the hosts helped me navigate the place . I ❤️ you random disabled ally with a pup mask on

chemical girl (joy)

(old)

LMAOOOOO im too angry and miserable to be around. i think i just need to give up at this point because theres clearly like. something broken inside me that cant be fixed. that has 2 be it because i try to talk and i just sound cold, i try to make a joke and it comes out overly edgy and unfunny, i try to be like everyone else but its too much. i cant even be a collection of the positive traits i see in others, i try to replicate it and it comes out warped and wrong. im either fucking enraged or in abject misery or way too happy and nobody can keep up with me. the thing is i dont even blame them. i wouldnt want to be around me either. do u know what thats like? being someone you wouldnt want to know? i keep hoping that one day ill wake up and suddenly be normal, the mood swings will be gone and everyone will like me and i wont do stupid shit that pisses them off. but i know that day isnt coming. theres no hope for me and i want to say sorry to everyone who has ever had the misfortune of knowing me but i know it wouldnt do anything. theres nothing i could ever do to make myself right

(new)

i need to convince my gf to take me to Round One again soon

refraction girl (nataana)

(old)

i don't want to do this anymore. i'm going somewhere better

(new)

talked with my psych and i’ll be starting TMS soon, it’s some thing where they put magnets to ur brain and it’s supposed to treat depression.. trying to temper my expectations bc i’ve tried so many treatments that just do nothing for me, but i’d be lying if i said my hopes weren’t riding on this. i want to confidently say i’m glad to be alive. i feel like i’m getting closer to that

nurse parallel/machine girl (xiomara)

(old)

I am so excited... Tomorrow my experimental outpatient treatment plan begins!!! I'm beyond delighted. I have complicated feelings about my DID being in remission, but it's nice to feel stable enough to be in charge of something this big, and to not have terrible gaps in my memory anymore. I still don't remember everything that happened to me, but maybe I don't need to. At this stage of my life, I feel content. I can confidently say everything was worth it. I want to help others feel that way, too. I think I can.

(new)

I’m meeting up with a new friend tomorrow… I feel nervous, but it’s a good nervousness, I think!

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

[m-ilkiee]

Game Over: Tetta Kisaki + Hanma Shuji

Pairing: Tetta Kisaki x Fem reader × Hanma Shuji

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

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

word count: 7.1k words

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

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

[masterlist] [taglist] [main page]

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

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

Including your brother, that was six feet under.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

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

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

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

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

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

'It's so dark'

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

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

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

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

'People?'

'Sales?'

'Shuji?'

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

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

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

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

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

'No, no, no, no.'

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

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

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

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

This time, he is really going to kill you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That whiny voice, I'll be damned…"

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

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

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

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

'Is he going to beat me to death?'

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

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

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

"This one is coming with me."

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

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

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

‘Fuck’

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

Not when your life it at stake.

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

'They're going to sell me?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know, we can keep her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like old times."

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

"Look at me." Kisaki commands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was it really that easy?

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

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

Was this really happening? Two of them at once?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You need to at least survive this night.

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna- Kisaki pull ou-"

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

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

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

The two people who killed your brother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You work for Kisaki, bitch. Understand?"

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

"That's a good girl."

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

[norikuna]

r/AsksReddit | Help! I think I accidentally summoned the King of Curses ! ⌦ part one of ?

💬 hi reddit, i know this sounds fake but i swear on my life it's true. i was just messing around with this prank book my friends got me last christmas and it had some 'ancient' summoning spells in it. i didn't even think it would work but there's a 7ft demon looking guy sitting on my couch and i don't know how to get rid of him.

Sorry, this post has been removed by moderators of r/AsksReddit. MOD: Please ask real and serious questions, thank you.

💬 update! the mods removed my post but i'm genuinely telling the truth here. anyway, it turns out that by summoning him, i think i bound us together for eternity. sukuna (that's his name) isn't that bad and he's kinda like a big, lazy cat.

u/9to5exorcist : Ryomen Sukuna? Are you quite sure? u/tenshadowsanimalcrossing : You're joking, no way u summoned sukuna lmfao. u/you : not joking! i took him grocery shopping today! u/SixEyesSensei : dm me asap!!!! please!!!!!!!!!!!!!

inspired by @kasukuna and the most amazing dumbass boyfriend!sukuna fics 🤎

absolutely refuses to use your furniture properly. sukuna insults your apartment for at least 2 whole days and calls it a sad, little domain. he has no idea what paying rent is like in this economy. lounges across the couch with all four arms spread, sits on the kitchen counters, and insists on rearranging your entire living room spread so he can move around it easier.

now you're constantly sleep deprived by having this deadbeat, massive behemoth of an awful flatmate. sukuna keeps telling you that he's a medieval sorcerer, someone who flattened entire clans and mountains but it's hard to take him seriously when he keeps hitting his head on your low ceilings. he's always so loud around the apartment, complaining about how boring it is for him to be stuck and bound to you forever. if you're a university student or just someone who's employed, he thinks he's being helpful by offering to curse your professors/employees.

you have to beg him to get some real clothes. you're slowly getting used to the anatomically strange sight of a 7ft man with four arms, but you know that others are going to call the police. he's usually wondering around your apartment and loitering in his loose, wide pants. nothing else, not even a shirt. occasionally sukuna will drape a cloak around his torso but you have to basically wrestle a baggy shirt over his head. and he bites you, at least thrice.

refuses to help clean, and claims he's very much above menial labour. one day, you threaten to leave sukuna hungry if he doesn't contribute for at least five minutes. he begrudgingly starts picking up after himself, but not before bestowing you with the ugliest death threats of all time.

sukuna is the very definition of a lazy freeloader. well, you told him to be useful and get a job, but then the idea of him causing more problems and insurance paperwork later made you break out in a cold sweat. so he usually spends his hours just loitering around your apartment, and draining your resources. never puts dishes in the sink and still doesn't grasp the concept of a fridge so he's always leaving the door open.

but he is very curious about modern day life. seems like the world has really moved ahead in the one thousand years that sukuna hasn't walked the earth. asks a million questions about wifi, the internet, a phone, streaming services and so on. he will be the last to admit it but he loves trashy reality television, and he enjoys watching 'pathetic humans squabbling over pathetic things'. has an ugly, evil-ass laugh that wakes up your neighbours at 3am.

after weeks of being cooped up in your apartment, he starts complaining. loudly. stomping around and getting even nastier, to the point where you have to give in. he tells you that he is no house pet, and if you don't let him outside, he will go anyway and have his own fun. god help you, sukuna's idea of fun in the big city will involve blood and destruction so you relent and prep him with a million rules that he ignores.

has a beef with a bunch of birds that sit outside your apartment every morning. definitely the type of weirdo that glares back at birds and throws rocks at them. backfired, because the entire swarm started flocking around him. but you did promise him that you'd let him go outside, so you decide to start with somewhere easy. grocery shopping.

already impressed with the idea of grocery shopping and parking lots. has no clue why humans would cram their 'carriages' in one place, and has no concept of traffic laws. you try patiently explaining that these cars weigh tonnes of metal and they can really injure a person. sukuna's pretty confident that no car could ever even scratch him. cue the big delivery truck that almost runs him down.

completely fascinated by sliding doors. it's already embarrassing enough being outside with a loud, rude tank with pink hair and tattoos. but now he's holding up gruntled customers trying to figure out what enchantment allows glass to move so smoothly on its own. keeps stepping back and forth in front of them to watch them open and close. almost breaks them with the strength of just one cracked fingers before you plead with him to keep moving.

sukuna encounters an escalator for the first time and refuses to step on it, and vows to bash in the head of the little kid who gave him a big side eye. after five minutes of arguing, he finally steps onto the moving belt and almost tilts off-balance, but he's got a tattooed hand practically gripping the side for dear life.

literally the biggest hater when he's inside properly. makes snarky remarks about how this flashy bazaar can't possibly be for real merchants who respect the trade. you try to show him the different types of stores, but he's more interested in people watching. loud people-watching. you almost go home when sukuna asks another man why he's swallowing wet balls. hint: it was an innocent guy having bubble tea.

entirely interested in new fruits and vegetables that he's never seen before. but he'll pretend he doesn't give a flying fuck. has taken a deep liking to tomatoes, and comments that these delicious, tasty red globes were not around during his era. sukuna thinks colourful cereal boxes are the worst things to ever happen to mankind, and you fear that you gave him too much internet access when he sneers at you for picking up a box of froot loops - suddenly muttering things about artificial and fake foods with fake flavours.

baffled by the concept of frozen food, and wonders what sort of jujutsu keeps the meat cold and fresh? practically wide-eyed when he reaches the butcher's stand until you tell him that 'no, sukuna. you can't buy steak and eat it raw here. we have to get home and cook it.' he's just happy to see the deli. he opens the freezer and fridge doors for too long and lets all the cold out.

he has no concept of modern money or a credit card. insists that there is no need to trade for these goods, and he can just take what he wants. you believe him but you're trying to avoid the mall police, but he just stands behind with his arms crossed, while you sigh and take out your credit card to pay at the self checkout.

sukuna refuses to sit still at the food court, and towers over the poor workers. demands to know how the food is made, "is it poisoned? who are your chefs?" the poor teenager working the kebab store has to call the manager to get this fiend of a man to back off. he's able to polish off a doner kebab in two, nasty bites. refuses to carry any of your shopping bags and claims that he's not a mule. you remind him that he put in five tubs of ice creams and two watermelons, and he begrudgingly slings the lightest bag over his shoulder and leaves you to haul the rest up.

but who knew the key to keeping your local king of curses happy was to just simply take him out for a walk? sukuna seems more energised (while you feel like death warmed over) and he's already tearing open a bag of your favourite crisps, insisting that next time he will be able to conquer this 'shopping centre' properly and rule it with ease.

[kanmom51]

Jikook came home

God, how I missed this.

How I miss them!!

Before getting into the whole JM post followed by the cute-flirty interaction that followed, I will take this opportunity in congratulating both JM and JK for their MAMA awards achievements.

JM winning Daesang fans choice of the year.🎉🎉

JK winning top 10 fans choice, best male artist and best dance performance (SNTY).🎉🎉

JM being the sweetheart that he is came to us with a lengthy post to thank Army for voting and receiving a Daesang.

There are a couple of nuanced differences in some of the translations, but all in all, they are pretty much on the same page.

The main difference I've seen is the translation of this part:

벙벙 벙벙 벙벙벙벙벙

Being it "dumbfounded" or "stunned" or "bemused".

I think this probably captures it best:

And then we had JK....

Who was most likely sitting there right by JM's side, the speed of their back and forth being one of the indications to that (we are talking within seconds here), not to mention patterns of past behaviour with those two.

Do we discuss for a second the Weverse translation of the discussion?

Like wtf? 🤣🤣

Ok, so the actual translation would be:

Insert the word of bemusement of your choice I guess, lol. But basically we have JM telling us he's stunned/dumbfounded and mainly happy and then that back and forth between those two right in front of our salads.

Oh, and can someone explain the @JK to me please? I mean, I get JM @JK -ing when posting his replies, but why the hell is JK @JK -ing when posting his replies to JM?🤣🤣

The way those two keep doing this shit (in such a good way, may I add) is just absolutely and utterly hilarious.

This whole exchange gives me these vibes:

And Idk why, but this interaction came straight to mind as well when I saw this back and forth between them...

Take those two and combine them and then picture that in mind with this back and forth going on:

Oh, and do I mention that obviously they had access to Internet, enough to have this back and forth between them, while both in the same place, and JK preferring to flirt in our faces with JM rather than post himself about his wins, which I can assure you he knew of. You know how it is when you don't want to take away from your boyfriend's thunder...

Maybe we'll hear from him later on maybe not, but this was about JM, his win, his moment, his post, his excitement.

And JK CANNOT miss out on a little teasing-flirtatious banter with his man, now can he?

Let's back track for one moment, because I do want to talk about JM inserting JK into his post. I do believe this is going to be a new standard/constant/reality. You know, the "me and JK"/ "JK and I" or "me and JM"/"JM and I". That very natural way of inserting one another in their interactions/conversations with us. Now, don't get me wrong, this is not a new thing what so ever. They have been doing this since forever. But I do think that it's going to become more of a constant and less of a "OMG, he mentioned JK/JM" moment for us. They have shown us for years, but more so over the past year, just how important they are to each other, but even more so, just how intertwined their lives are with one another. They literally could not even part ways to do their military service!! Choosing to spend those 18 months together, even if it meant having to endure much harsher conditions and a much more difficult service as a whole. All to be able to be together. With each other. What I'm saying is that I do think we will be getting so much more of "US" from those two.

Openly and proudly.

US.

One last thing, and again this is either Jikook coincidence or kismet or maybe not too much of a coincidence and more of a conscious decision, but JM's post yesterday, 23 Nov 2024, was posted on the year mark of Jikook leaving for their oh so very special and emotionally charged Japan trip, 23 Nov 2023.

💜💜💜

Coincidence or not, we got Jikook back then, and after radio silence from those two for such a long time, we got Jikook yesterday again!!!

[hermitcraftx]

the only reason dream everrrr had a platform or was popular is bc everyone made thirst traps of. his blond fake sona for years (he has fucking BROWN HAIR???) and then when he revealed he was a pedophile creepy weirdo right after he revealed his face everyone that made a career making daddy dream manhunt NSFW didn't stop blogging because some people would fuck steaming piles of human garbage if it was white and had abs. like every dream stan I've ever met is perpetually living in 2021 and dream is too and if that's not the biggest sign of the world's most colossal fumble I don't know what is. genuinely the only talent dream has is being uncannily manipulative and vague to try and get away with everything and play the victim later on after he says genuine rancid dogshit but he's not even the best at that. genuinely he's the definition of a career made by other people and if he thinks for a second his little white suburban fake redneck yuppy mr beast wannabe that he's going to successfully be a right wing grifter after being known as the gogy wogy uwu yaoi queerbait streamer (and yes I do think he's genuinely the ONLY real person that word applies to) then he's fucking insane. ain't nobody fucks with him. he's a footnote in Minecraft history. the worst people alive in the community don't fuck with him. tommyinnit is having tea with jacksepticeye and doing comedy shows and having fun with all the remaining good internet ogs and regularly pulling lots of views meanwhile the only way dream stays relevant out of his cesspool wretch infested pedophile apologist echo chamber that is his fanbase is regularly triggering dsmp drama to feel sorry for himself. can't do manhunt without cheating and it wasn't even an original idea another abuser took that from him can't do an smp tommyinnit made that for him it really seems to me on a psychological level that to a degree some of that cdream shit wasn't roleplay because dream knew the most memorable part of the biggest part of his career would be tommyinnit forever and always. and now he has to fight for tommyinnit beef scraps saying slurs and shit when he's not even involved getting way too comfortable after Trump gets elected when tommy barely pays him more mind than he paid Logan Paul when he WORKED with dream for YEARS. tommyinnit gets to be known as the man who fostered love and care for his fan base, an all around good person and joy to be around and a ray of light in the dark space that is the mcyt space, and a guy never backed down on his morals and ethics whereas dreams only claim to fame now are being a cheating bigoted ableist creepy pedophile-esque freak with no concept of proper boss/employee conduct or creator/fan conduct with a Republican bastard and a sexual assaulter as friends who was seen as mildly hot by teenagers in 2021 without y'know being able to comprehend you're not supposed to reciprocate. and I know it keeps him up at night because otherwise he wouldn't try and regain relevancy by starting shit with Tommy every 6 months. is it because tommy is an adult now, clay??? when people look back on fond memories of fandom in 20-30 years not a single person will be able to look at anything dream has been apart of without grimacing not even his fans because I know all those arguments on behalf of a nasty ass pervert will not be fond memories. the only original thing he's done is say the r slur- oh wait. I mean groom minors- oh wait. I mean be a bigoted racist- oh wait. I mean have gross misconduct with a fan- oh wait. I mean start drama a lot in hopes of getting attention- oh wait. genuinely the most pathetic shadow nothingburger ass of a man I've ever seen in my life may dogs eat his face off in the middle of the night.

[amirasainz]

hey! do you think you could write something where charles starts dating baby sainz after alex, and for a change she really doesn’t like baby sainz, or even a random oc ex gf of charlie and he gets annoyed whenever anyone says anything bad about baby sainz, and just wants her to himself? Thank you! ❤️

Ok so first things first. This is just a fic and not supposed to be hate towards Alexandra.

Now please enjoy reading and don't hesitate to send requests.

-XoXo

The better Girlfriend

The breakup between Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux was far from friendly. Their relationship had been plagued by cheating rumors, and the truth eventually came to light. Alexandra, a 21-year-old art history student, had kissed another guy during a girls’ night out. When this news reached Charles, their relationship came to an end

But Alexandra’s behavior during their relationship had already caused friction. She openly expressed disdain for Charles’s job in Formula 1, even going so far as to claim it wasn’t a real sport on live TV. Her rudeness toward fans and unreasonable demands put her in an unfavorable light. Charles endured his worst F1 season while they were together, and the media and fans didn’t hesitate to express their disapproval of her.

When Charles finally broke up with Alexandra, he received overwhelming support from the F1 paddock. His fellow drivers rallied around him during this difficult time:

Lando played games with him to keep his spirits up.

Pierre offered a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.

Max made sure Charles ate proper meals.

Carlos helped him navigate the PR drama.

And his “Grid Dads”—Sebastian, Lewis and Fernando offered invaluable advice.

In the midst of the drama, Charles found solace in the camaraderie of his fellow racers, proving that the racing world extends beyond the track and into the bonds of friendship and support

But there was one person, that helped him the most. Amira Sainz, the unsung hero in Charles’s life. While others lent their support, it was Amira who stood by him, often without uttering a single word. During Charles’s tumultuous relationship with Alexandra, Amira remained an enigma—a girl he wasn’t allowed to befriend due to Alexandra’s jealousy. But now, free from those constraints, their paths converged.

From strangers to friends, and then lovers—their connection felt destined. The media dubbed them the “it-couple,” and fans followed their story with respectful fascination. Initially, Carlos wasn’t thrilled, but time softened his heart. With Amira, Charles discovered a happiness he’d never known before—a beautiful girl who became his world.

And Charles reciprocated her love in every possible way. Each morning, breakfast in bed; after races, flowers to brighten her day. He listened to her fears and troubles, making her feel cherished and protected. But Amira wasn’t just a passive recipient; she left post-it notes in his luggage, their apartment, and even his car. She comforted him after bad races, helping him navigate his emotions. Together, they shared a dog—a symbol of their bond.

Their love wasn’t hidden; they proudly displayed it online. Fans embraced them as the “it-couple,” and Charles and Amira reveled in their shared journey. In a world of engines and speed, their love story unfolded.

Alexandra, Charles Leclerc’s ex girlfriend, stumbled upon one of their date posts. What she saw ignited a fire within her—a seething rage that drove her to spend the next five hours stalking the couple and dissecting their relationship. But Alexandra’s fury didn’t stop there; oh no, she took it a step further. In a desperate attempt to reclaim her own narrative, she created not one, not two, but seventeen fake “Alexandra and Charles forever” accounts on Instagram.

The internet, however, is a merciless place. Within minutes, eagle-eyed users ridiculed her fabricated accounts, exposing the charade for what it was. Alexandra’s attempt to rewrite history crumbled under the weight of public scrutiny. Perhaps it was a desperate cry for attention or a futile bid to regain control, but either way, the digital world had spoken: “Fake news!”

And so, as the engines cooled down and the F1 tracks took a breather during the summer break, Alexandra found herself caught in a whirlwind of her own making. Meanwhile, Charles and his new love interest, Amira Sainz, continued their blissful journey, oblivious to the storm brewing behind the screens

The pitlane buzzed with anticipation as Alexandra, fueled by anger and resentment, strode toward the Ferrari garage. Her eyes blazed with determination, and the photographers snapped away, capturing her every move. Lando and Max exchanged shocked glances—what was she doing here?

The Ferrari team, despite Carlos impending departure, held a special place in their hearts for the Sainz siblings. Their camaraderie and dedication had left an indelible mark. But now, Alexandra—the wicked witch, as some whispered—had infiltrated their sanctuary.

As she stepped into the garage, the once-happy atmosphere vanished. The air crackled with tension. Alexandra’s gaze swept over the familiar red cars, the tools, the mechanics—all part of the world that had embraced Charles and Amira. She clenched her fists, vowing to tear apart the relationship that had blossomed in this very space.

If it was the last thing she ever did.

And so, the pitlane witnessed a battle of emotions—a collision of love and hate, fueled by jealousy and wounded pride. The engines roared, but the real drama unfolded in the hearts of those who watched.

She looked around at the quiet garage and immediately spottet Charles and his plaything. The tensions were high as she strutted towards them. "Charles" she tried to say in a seductive voice. When she went to hug him and kiss his cheek, he stepped away. "Alexandra, what are you doing here?" he questioned sternly. "What? Can't I see my favorite athlete" she harshly asked. "Does the stupid bitch not allow you to talk to other women?" She turned to Amira. "No wonder she doesn't, I mean look at her. I truly don't see what you see in her. She dresses like a slut. I'm sure she also sucks your dick like one and-"

“Enough!” Charles’s voice boomed, cutting through the tension. “Don’t you DARE disrespect my girlfriend. You destroyed our relationship. You used me.”He stepped closer to her, eyes blazing with anger. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll never step a foot in the paddock.” With that, he turned away, leaving Alexandra standing humiliated in the middle of the room.

The air crackled with the aftermath of his words—a collision of emotions, hurt, and the finality of a chapter closing.