#i warned you these posts existed

[sonic-love-island-official]

oh no (i recovered a shadow rant)

honestly sometimes writing shadow in the love island au is so buzzy to me bc I have nothing else from the former fandom to base his journey off </3

shadow's in his own personal reformation era. he's been removing all the toxic habits, people and traits from his life and he's creating a new, more mature identity for himself than what he had in the past

but I don't see a lot of that in fanworks I consume ??? either they go down the Bad Boy TM with a kind heart route or the Feral route or I Am An Asshole For No Reason route

but I'm writing a shadow who's none of these things ?? well, okay maybe he's a Lil feral, but it's not a big broadcasted thing and it's not an important detail. I'm writing a shadow that doesn't need to dabble in his trauma. he's been through that. he's processed it. still the effects linger around but it's not a major plot point. he's not really anything. he's just a guy. a little awkward and reclusive and Different but he's doing him and he's learning to grow into his adult self and discover his true path from there :))

basically how I see it is that the general perception is: shadow's worth (esp in fics) is what he is to someone else. and that makes me sad. sure, fics can be about relationships amongst characters,, but who are they on their own ?? it feels shallow, is all

and I don't wanna be Miss Know It All I'm Different but my shadow is a fully formed person by himself. he has his sense of identity. but it is one also subject to change. he discovers more of himself on the island and meeting amy has influenced and taught him many things. but they're not co-dependent on each other to make progress within the story ?? they just light a spark in the other to think about and things kinda happen on their own that way

idk man. justice for shadow bc he never gets portrayed in a true light (I don't claim my portrayal of shadow to be accurate either. shadow's one of those characters that's really up to interpretation and perception. but I think what I got down is enough to show what shadow represents within himself and as a symbol)

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

putting my prediction on record now that the coming decade is going to see the rise of viral-marketed fancy at-home water filtration systems, driving and driven by a drastic reduction in the quality of U.S. tap water (given that we are in a 'replacement era' where our current infrastructure is reaching the end of its lifespan--but isn't being replaced). also guessing that by the 2030s access to drinkable tap water will be a mainstream class issue, with low-income & unstably housed people increasingly forced to rely on expensive bottled water when they can't afford the up-front cost of at-home filtration--and with this being portrayed in media as a "moral failing" and short-sighted "choice," rather than a basic failure of our political & economic systems. really hope i'm just being alarmist, but plenty of this already happens in other countries, and the U.S. is in a state of decline, so. here's praying this post ages into irrelevance. timestamped April 2023

[satyricplotter]

(suggestive, slightly explicit content at the end)

Even though you’ve been expecting the visit for most of the night, the Red Hood knocking at your balcony door at 1 in the morning still catches you off guard. You scramble off the couch in a sleepy daze, book falling off your lap and cracking open on the floor. For one long second, the only thing you can think of is that whoever your last assignment was has managed to find you, that you’ve finally been too sloppy and left a trail with which to track you.

That’s your first thought. Your second thought is, of course, Barbara. But before you can reach your phone to shoot your boss a SOS, or, at the very least, an alert, a second rasp at the window panes freezes you on the spot.

“Will you open the damn door?” Red Hood’s unmistakably robotic voice grits out. “It’s raining cats and dogs out here.”

You trip in your rush to open the doors, limbs loose and clumsy with relief. Hood shoulders past you with a grunt, fingers prodding at the back of his head to get at the latch of his helmet. He takes it off in a smooth motion, his hot breath forming a white cloud against the cold air of your running AC. You lock the balcony back up after him as he goes around your apartment, setting his helmet on your dinner table and shrugging out of his jacket. He means to stay apparently. You could’ve lent him an umbrella if he wanted to go back out there. Probably would’ve been best.

See, you don’t like the Red Hood much.

He invites himself over to your kitchen, opening cabinets here and there until he chances upon the dinnerware and pulls out a glass. The Gotham public infrastructure is in such state you have never once attempted to drink out of the tap, but you don’t stop him when he does. It is, technically, allowed. And he had the pitcher full of filtered water right under his nose, so. You wait impatiently as he downs two whole glasses of tap water and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand (there is a perfectly usable kitchen towel draped over the oven handle).

He glances over, notices you staring. The corner of his lips quirks up. “How obedient,” he mocks. He pats at his sides, pulls a folded envelope from somewhere in his body (the Bats have endless pockets, you’ve come to learn) and tosses it on the table. “There’s your file. You better be fucking thankful. Traipsed through half the city in this shit storm just to get you these.”

“Thank you, Red Hood,” you say politely, picking up the rumpled envelope and eagerly flipping through the files. “Much appreciated.”

Red Hood rolls his eyes at you, eternally put off by your insistence on following the proper channels of conduct. “Whatever. You got anything to eat?”

“Help yourself,” you tell him.

You walk back to the couch with the file in hand and leave him to make himself whatever he will, already too distracted by the information within to care that you’re gonna have to make a second grocery run when he’s done with your fridge. Red Hood rummages through your cabinets, pulling out far more stuff than he should for a midnight snack. At one point, he asks if you’ve had dinner, and you respond him with an absentminded (and truthful) negative. The files he’s brought are the latest Robin’s swiped from the team’s ongoing investigation on a dicey arms exchange deal that may or may not involve three out of four of Gotham’s biggest conglomerates (sans, of course, Wayne Enterprises). It’s your job to process the info—a task too menial and too tedious for Oracle and Red Robin, respectively, to handle. Besides, Tim’s far more useful on the ground.

It must be about twenty minutes of you pouring over the pages scattered over your coffee table when the man speaks up again. “Dinner’s ready,” he says.

You look up to see him setting two plates of steaming stir fry on the table. He’s taken off his gloves, his utility belt, the domino mask and rolled up his sleeves—the whole nine yards. Only missing the apron. The food looks lovely, but of course it does. Cooking is listed as a specialty in Red Hood’s file, right along with marksmanship and hostile takeovers.

Your lips quirk up at the unexpected kindness, but you shake your head. “None for me, thanks.”

“I said,” Red Hood says, placing his gun on the table menacingly. “Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”

Well. So much for kindness. You’re about as dumb as Red Hood’s subtle, which is to say only at your benefit and very much at will, so you only sigh and push the papers aside. He watches you rise and sit, and pick up the fork, before he does the same. You eat in silence.

After a few bites, you stop being disgruntled at his coercion and grateful that he’s got something other than a protein bar in you because you were, in fact, quite hungry. That’s not something you can say—or at least not in any way which he would accept, so you just shut up and eat your meal happily. That seems to be enough for him, as he watches you finish the whole plate with a satisfied expression.

“Good?” He asks.

“Yeah, actually,” you beam.

Even when he stands and brings the dishes over to the sink to wash, you are reluctant to leave your spot at the table. You watch him rinse and sponge the plates and pan, the knife and spoon and cutting board, and your afternoon tea mug. He washes his hands thoroughly and rinses his mouth with the dubious tap water again. A thorough, judicious man. He’s played remarkably nice this evening. You wonder if Oracle’s been pulling his ear to leave you alone.

When he finishes, he walks slowly the remainder of the narrow hallway of your kitchen back to the dinner table and leans against the threshold. The long line of his body catches you off guard, always so unexpectedly graceful despite his musculature, his brutality. You hold his gaze serenely, trying not to cave under his scrutiny.

This is why you don’t like the Red Hood. Every time he looks at you, he sees you wholly. As you are. Not, crucially, as you want. It has been this way since the first time he laid eyes on you—a single glance and he had taken the measure of you. No further explanation, no time to make amends. And what’s worse: he expects you to be honest. He expects you to say what he can read in your face. He doesn’t let it go when you deflect, when you coat your truths in niceties. He wants it raw and open.

You can’t play dumb with Jason Todd.

He breaks the silence first. “Were you expecting Grayson this evening?”

The non-sequitur catches you so off guard you break eye contact accidentally. What’s Nightwing got to do with anything?

“No?” You say, evidently baffled. “Nightwing’s been off-world all week. Why would he be coming around?”

He cocks his head to the side, sucks in the bit of flesh below his lower lip. "So you knew it was me who'd be coming around?"

"Obviously?" What is he going on about? He clearly doesn't believe you, either. It's childish when you stomp your foot and whine, but he always brings out the worst in you. "I'm serious, Hood. I've been waiting for you all evening. Just you."

Jason pushes off the wall and approaches, staring you down with slightly raised eyebrows. “Then, if you knew Dick wasn't coming with, what are you looking so fuckable for?”

Despite how much it bruises your pride, you cannot help but sputter. The staring is one thing, the passing brushes are another—even the stupid pulling at your pigtails like you’re both in kindergarten is… permissible. But this? Coming at you so straightforwardly when all you know how to do is circumvent and hide? Desperately, you respond to the one thing in that sentence you can make sense of: the accusation.

“I don’t like Nightwing,” you whine. Jason fixes you with a look of dry incredulity. You huff. How you despise him. He can’t even let you lie. “And I don’t dress for him either.”

“Hm.” He reaches over to pull at the neckline of your admittedly skimpy top, his knuckle brushing against your chest. “Sure.”

You bat his hand away, and stand up, but that leaves you much closer to him than you expected. Or wanted. “This is not fuckable,” you grit out. “This is… pajamas.”

Jason cranes his neck to take a close look at you, every bit as assessing as the first one had been. One of his large hands comes to play with the hem of your shorts, pushes it up just a smidge, and the pads of his fingers are rough and calloused against your outer thigh. Your eyelids flutter, and he has the nerve to smile.

“That’s a blatant lie, you know,” he says, dipping his head low so the words brush against your lips. “Try a little, huh?”

“This seems like a you problem, my guy,” you snap, so close you might as well be speaking into his mouth. You need to get away. You don’t.

Jason’s smug when you gasp after his hands close around your ass and bring you forward, flush against his body. The hardness in his pants trapped between you, a pressing weight just below where it should be. Should be? What are you��but Jason adjusts before you can scold yourself, lining up your crotch with his and grinding. It feels bigger this way, which is insane because it's already pretty fucking huge, and a hot flash of desire runs through you lightning-quick and just as obliterating. You slump against him, head on his shoulder.

“That’s my problem,” he murmurs against your ear. His thumbs press just under your asscheeks, playful. “You gon’ do anything about it?”

[feelbetterlove-books]

Even when you have a hard day just remember, Bucktommy "has anyone ever told you you're a vision in a cone?" will always be there. Tommy Kinard looked at his adorable boyfriend with a silly party hat on and thought Evan, you're beautiful, you're stunning, you're ravishing, you're a sight for sore eyes. I could never get tired of looking at you. I cherish you. There's nowhere I'd rather be than behind this couch at your side. And he was so real for that.

[oozedninjas]

Hello! Not exactly sure what’s all covered under “dark stuff” but I thought I’d shoot my shot.

Do you have any ideas or head canons concerning how badly the turtles might um…. Mark someone up during a close encounter? Like how badly the animal instincts might take over, or if they were even aware of it happening?

18+ /NSFW / Leo's the oldest with 29 / Everyone is susceptible to leaving marks at one time or another. In this essay, I will—

Leo is more susceptible to this act during his rut, when you're having angry sex, or those nights when he feels like acting a little mean (just because you love it). He sucks on your skin, and it's that suction that leaves the mark—most of the time reddish, almost purple. Always heals fast, for which he's gotta keep making them.

Raphel adores biting you. His marks are always deep purple and borderline black. Looks more like you had an accident, which makes them extra hard to hide under makeup or clothing. They take forever to heal, and he kind of gets offended if you cover them up.

Donatello is respectful while marking you. If you request him not to place his love bites in visible areas he'll listen. There's a catch, however. No neck marks? Perfect. How about splattering your entire torso with multiple different-sized hickeys? Sounds fair, right? I swear he'd be the most smooth talker, and yet somehow has an absolutely ravishing mischievous smirk.

Mikey uses them more when he's feeling slightly more possessive of you. Typically, the urge to mark you intensifies as his mating season comes close to its peak. My dude goes feral. He loves it when you mark him too (I mean if somehow you could go through that hard surface of his skin). And you can bet he shows them off proudly!

[ilikerosesalot]

(CW for rapid color changes) TimeIasp of my isat anni piece!! Would've uploaded earlier but... forgor

[piningpebbles]

the dream smp journey: attempting to make the lore of the dream smp more accessible.

so back when i first wanted to get into the dream smp i had absolutely no idea where to start. i asked some people and they told me pretty much “look up dream smp + [insert youtuber name] and start there” and so i did, but i quickly came to realize how much i was missing from the story by not seeing all the different points of view.

so i decided to make my own playlist.

it was just for myself at first, but as i got more obsessed with the story, i also gave the link to some friends of mine so they could have the full experience, and they loved it. so i kept updating it.

my goal was to try and make a capsule of the entirety of the lore on the dream smp across almost every single POV, because while i do appreciate those who make recap videos, they always miss something and it’s usually with peoples’ POV who aren’t considered to be “main characters” which sucks because one of my favorite things about the dream smp was how everyone was their own main character with their own individual storyline you could get invested in.

i’ve seen every single video in the playlist, and did my absolute best to discern what should be included and what didn’t need to be. 

for instance, while i personally enjoyed streams where they’d just goof off, this is a lore-centric playist so i didn’t include all of them unless one of the jokes or such gets mentioned/becomes important later on. or if there is a lore event happening but two people have almost identical streams to one another then i decided between the two of them which one to keep. or if the cc themself made an edited version of their experience, i would decide whether to go with that or keep the original vod

it’s far from perfect. i tried to keep up with it as long as i could I STILL HAVE VIDEOS IN MY WATCH LATER THAT I PLANNED TO ADD but simply put while the dream smp storyline got longer and longer it became harder to keep up with. i watched pretty much all the streams when they happened but failed to update the playlist accordingly so right now it has almost everything up until ”Hitting on 16.”

i always wanted to finish it before i posted it, but i’ve been seeing people talk about how they miss the experience of watching the dream smp and while i obviously can’t provide the full interactive experience that the dream smp offered as it came out, i knew i couldn’t just keep this in my back pocket and thought i could at least offer a good chunk of the experience for you guys to still be able to keep!

here’s the playlist, spanning over 300 videos.

there’s also a semi-canon playlist (not nearly as thorough) for events that get mentioned by the cc’s a lot or are just cool to have and i wanted to include them somewhere so here it is also!!

to go along with it i also made a masterpost (can you tell i love making lists) which is what every single video on the playlist is supposed to be (and was last i checked, but videos get taken down every so often so there might be a couple missing here and there).

i hope to update this one day and have it fully finished, but with my schedule (full-time college student babyyyy) and simply the hundreds of hours of content i’d need to sift through it just seems impossible (and frankly just really intimidating) to challenge alone right now. so i also wanted to give this to the community to maybe be able to do what i couldn’t!

my hope with this is that if someone in a year or two (or whenever really) is interested in the dream smp they won’t have to sit through recap videos and instead can watch the real thing in a single playlist connected to the doc. my dream is for the masterpost and the playlist to go hand-in-hand, being like a guide people can follow that would also link to other moments and lore that is saved but just not avaliable on youtube, so we don’t have all these moments just lost to time.

i want to make this collaborative, i’m hoping this will maybe spark others to share what videos/moments they have saved and stored with each other for the dream smp and maybe together we could complete this thing somehow!! make the playlist and masterpost i dreamed of (the one right now is scuffed, but at least it’s something). the dream smp is one of my absolute favorite pieces of media out there and i want to share this with people but (as you can probably tell) i have no idea what i’m doing!! any step to help make the story more readily accessible is a good one, though!

i know i’ve missed things but i’ve done my best. and while not the perfectly polished thing i hoped it would be when i sent it out to the world maybe it could be a good building block for the community to use. so please share this!! reblog it!! all that jazz!! i want this to be for everyone!!

anyways, this is a long post. but the whole reason i got into the dream smp in the first place was because of the awesome fan content i saw and this crazy and creative community and i want to be able to give back, if i can.

[theoldwhisky]

What would you advise people to be aware of before reading MDZS or any MXTX books, for that matter? I'm serious.

I would warn them before reading or engaging with any of MXTX's books about the extremely dubious consent content, including elements that lean toward sexual assault. Additionally, I would warn them about the, in my opinion, very clear depictions of eating disorders and malnutrition, as well as physically and mentally abusive types of relationships of any kind that arise, alongside the classic themes of violence, gore, and blood.

Furthermore, topics such as suicide, self-harm, teacher-student relationships, stalking, abortion, and gambling, etc.

I know some of you might say insensitive things like, "One should expect such things in books," or comments like, "It's not that deep." To those kinds of people, I would like to remind you: FUCK OFF!

It is that deep. You don't know someone else's trauma and mental health struggles; warnings are necessary, and not just in the form of jokes or comments like "Just read it and find out." Trigger warnings exist for a reason and are essential. Just because you don't need them doesn't mean that others don't.

If you don't care about this, that's fine; move on. It's clearly not meant for you, but I'm tired of people across all kinds of fandoms, including MXTX, downplaying these issues and acting as if it's acceptable to belittle them simply because you personally might not share the same problems.

Sidenote: I recommend that you always Google the TW (trigger warnings) for the specific MXTX work you are about to read before purchasing it. Additionally, adaptations are usually much more censored and may not be entirely free of specific content in some regards.

[moss-and-marimos]

more of my songs :D please feel free to let me know your favorites and if you think theyre fitting and such!!

@paintslurper

[jellycreamjammedart]

Just say you think cp is ok as long as the minors are fictional you fuckin pedophile

Normally I ignore hostile or pre-judgmental asks on the off chances I get them, but I'll make exception for this one because it seems like a good opportunity for some much needed nuance-- also because I get this person's disgust, I really do.

But you, my fella, must understand that this isn't about the morality or even lack thereof behind dark fictional content, at all. You must realize that wanting dark and taboo fictional content (yes including that one you mentioned) not being allowed to exist actually does nothing to improve or protect irl lives, much on the contrary actually. No, I don't think there's any possible moral reason behind fictional cp content (nor do I find it 'ok',) but once again, this isn't about morality.

Please take a moment to read this thread (it words this topic better than me) then think it over. Trust me, it's a better use of your time than annoying ppl online with words you can't even bother standing up for with your name/face.

[dandyshucks]

blinks tiredly. i decide "hm maybe i should try to expand my circle and step outside of it a little, lets go look at the main community tags" and im just greeted with a bunch of edgelords who think saying "fiction doesn't affect reality, don't like don't read" is peak activism and "fighting censorship". head in my hands. this is partially why i do not ever go into the community tags, my nervous system cannot handle blocking fifty weirdos every single day just so i can have a normal experience in the community tags hfdsjkl

[stergeon]

Rating: Mature (horny)

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Relationship(s): Edelgard von Hresvelg/Byleth Eisner

Words: 11.5k (2 chapters out of, theoretically, 3)

There's a new professor of the Black Eagles house, but it's not the one Edelgard and Hubert had planned to take on the role—and to make matters worse, Edelgard knows her. She could never forget her, or a single moment of that hot summer night when they met in Enbarr.

Worst of all, the professor doesn't seem to remember Edelgard.

AU in which Byleth and Edelgard meet by chance a few months before the start of White Clouds.

[auphelia]

Taken care of - Cyno

Warnings n tags: f!reader, bad pun, academics, biologist!reader, amurta!reader, dendro vision!reader, fluff, pure cute, first fic ever, not proofread, selfship coded, dont think readers appearance is specified except for being ‘soft’ and in worse physical condition than Cyno

Note: I just needed this out of my system, it is the first time I’ve ever written a fic, so if you actually read it, please expect nothing! Also, minors DNI

Word count: 1200

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was your first time venturing further into the desert than Aaru village, and you had honestly been dreading this trip ever since it became clear that you would have to go on it. The scorching heat almost made you wish that you could've either kept your big mouth shut or at the very least swallowed your pride. All you had wanted was to pick a poorly understood subject for your thesis, being an Amurta student, you'd practically had your ears cried full of withering zones and the different families of fungi. And you'd had enough of that, not wanting to spend your entire life studying some obscure detail just for your research to be 'new'. So you'd pitched an idea to your supervisor, you wanted to investigate what effect proximity to an oasis had on the evolutionary path of scarabs. After some bickering back and forth, they had agreed to let you pursue this, but under the condition that you were willing to change subject if you'd made no substantial progress within two months. It had now been one month and the only discovery you'd made was, that the litterature on scarabs, or anything from the desert, was sparse at best. And that's how you ended here, boots full of sand, dry skin, probably a good sunburn, and more than a little bitter. But samples wouldn't collect themselves! Luckily, your protective boyfriend had offered to escort you, not liking the thought of anyone else being responsible for your safety. Of course, as soon as the rumor that the General Mahamatra was taking leave to escort a student around the desert started spreading, you were met with more than a little malice from your peers.

The first morning you woke to an unfamiliar sight, what appeared to be an Eremite standing with their back towards you, Cyno's jackal helmet laying discarded in the sand. "What did you do to the white haired man? Speak, or I will set you ablaze!" "A single night, and already my precious flower has turned into a cactus" As always, Cyno's voice was even, but you had known him far too long to not notice the subtle hint of amusement in his tone. When he turned to face your, the satisfied smirk he wore only fueled your annoyance at his antics. "And what would you have done if I had not bothered asking but simply attacked?" "My flower, you have a dendro vision, explain to me how you plan on setting me ablaze? Besides, I do feel confident in my ability to dodge a sleepy student in uneven terrain." He winked at you while motioning at the sand between where you were sitting and where he stood. "Fine. Just warn me before you pull such a tasteless prank again" "This? No.. I.. I mean... I heard what they were saying behind your back. This way, you can say that your escort was just another mercenary." You noticed a light dusting of pink reach his cheeks, and with that all your irritation dissipated.

The second day went smoothly, Cyno surprisingly being able to guide you to many groupings of scarabs, sheepishly explaining that he had always found them fascinating.

By the third day, you were both tired. Cyno kept insisting that he would keep watch for most of the night so that you could be well rested for your fieldwork. He was undoubtedly hiding it better than you, but the slight drag of his feet as you walked towards the next observation spot gave him away. That and how he had been cursing at his hair for getting in his eyes all morning. You couldn't help but giggle at the memory of the oh-so-dignified General Mahamatra fumbling about in the morning sun, swatting at his hair while threatening to cut it off unless it behaved. He had undoubtedly thought you asleep. "If you have breath to spare on laughing, we should be going faster" his voice sounded like he had been inhaling sand instead of air. You couldn't help the whine that left your lips at the thought of your already tired legs picking up the pace. "Cynoooo, I'm just a feeble scholar, I wasn't made for field work". This statement caused him to stop dead in his tracks and turn around with a wicked grin. "Really? Because in my experience -" You cut him off by slapping a hand over his mouth, already knowing his next words, feeling how dry his lips had become from the desert air. Looking into his eyes, his exhaustion became increasingly clear to you. He'd been working himself half to death before going with you, and this clearly wasn't the break you had hoped it would be for him. "We are stopping at the next oasis we reach. Research be damned, I need a rest"

You plopped down with your back against a palm, closing your eyes and relishing in the shade the overhanging leaves provided. As you opened your eyes, a deep frown settled on your lips, there your idiot was, standing guard in the sun. Gently pressing a hand to the trunk behind you, you decided to not give him the opportunity of refusing a rest. The roots sprung to life and crept towards your beloved General. In one fell swoop they wrapped around his ankles and pulled, causing him to fall to the ground. He merely let out an exasperated groan and did his best to flip onto his back to avoid getting a mouthful of sand. As he came to rest with his head in your lap the roots gently untangled themselves from his golden skin and disappeared back into the sandy ground. You wasted no time gaining access to his white mane of hair as you started gently scratching at his scalp. Cyno almost purred at the action, letting his eyes remain closed, it was almost obscene to watch as his face contorted until a peaceful expression finally settled in his features. "You are a wicked, wicked woman" he couldn't fight the smile on his lips even as he tried to sound stern. Your only response was a soft kiss to his cheek, only serving to have him melt further into your soft form. "If anyone sneaks up on us I am blaming you" this time his tone was more serious, but with the sleepy expression on his face you only rolled your eyes at him and mumbled a quick apology. "Worry not General, I'll keep watch while you rest" as you gave him a final pat on the head, you moved to get up, only to be met with Cyno holding you down with an impressive amount of strength given his state. A hand snaked up your body and closed around one of your breasts, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't go, it seems we have plenty of securi-titty" You plopped back down in utter shock, remaining completely quiet. "Ahem. You see, I took the words security and ti-" You cut him off with a loud snort followed by laughter. "It seems you will be to blame if we are ambushed General" Your amused tone made his ears take on a reddish tint. Cyno looked up at you with eyes full of adoration. "For this, I am willing to take the chance of being caught unaware" He grabbed your hips and pulled until you were laying next to eachother. After a little while in silence Cyno's breathing evened out and you smiled to yourself in satisfaction.

[twpsyn-who]

Talking a little bit about 'boycotting Eurovision' under Keep Reading, feel free to scroll down if is not what you want to see.

The most used argument on the matter of banning Israel from Eurovision is the fact that Russia got banned from Eurovision, which is the worst argument anyone could bring.

Kindly reminder that Russia didn't get banned because of the war with Ukraine. Russia got banned because many countries has threatened to withdraw from the competition. Sadly, that's a big difference.

Yes, the countries has threatened to withdraw because they support Ukraine and see Russia as the party in the wrong. That was their reason. EBU's reason for banning Russian was because those countries threatened to withdraw, not because the war was bad and Russia must be stopped.

This situation isn't the same. Why? Because many countries support Israel in their genocide. Because this time around Palestine is the party in the wrong. Because we're taught to believe that Israel isn't in the wrong here.**

Boycotting Eurovision won't work. There are people out there who don't know the truth and want to watch Eurovision. There are people out there who don't care and will watch Eurovision regardless of the situation. There are people out there who, despite having the facts, still don't see Israel as the bad guy in this situation and will watch Eurovision. Sadly, boycotting won't work unless everyone does it.

The only way Israel will get banned, in my opinion, is by going through the same thing as Russia. If other countries threatened to withdraw- and not any countries, but the ones investing the most in Eurovision, then yes. That will get Israel banned.

Otherwise? The only thing we do is hurt artists that don't deserve it. Artists who use Eurovision as a way to get more exposure and experience. Artists who deserve to be heard.

Don't vote for Israel's entry. Don't stream their song either. Heck, turn off the TV when is their turn to perform.

**This whole situation (the war, not Eurovision) isn't only black and white. Civilians die daily because of this, all of them from both sides. Innocent people who has no fault. Let's not forget that

[northern-passage]

"What are you thinking about?"

The question startles you - lost in your own head, you push off the railing, blinking down at the ocean waves as they roll beneath the icy dock.

Merry leans her hip against the railing at your side, crossing her arms as she waits for your answer.

"I don't know," you admit, avoiding her gaze. "Thinking about… something I can't quite remember," you say slowly, staring down at your hands.

That gets a noncommittal sound out of her. She turns to look out over the water, too, folding her hands in front of her, her elbows pressed against the railing.

"The sea does that to you," she says then, and you both lapse into silence, the docks swaying beneath you, the sky darkening overhead as the sun sets over the horizon.

Merry slides closer to you after a while, leaning against you, and you glance over at her to see her fidgeting with the ring hanging from her neck. She catches your eye, quickly tucking the ring back beneath her shirt and turning away.

"What are you thinking about?" you prompt, and it just gets you an annoyed look.

"Come on. It's getting late," she snaps, ignoring your question, and you sigh, pushing off the railing and following after her as she leads you from the docks and back into the city proper.

You move through back streets and dark alleys, keeping your head down as Merry guides you back to the shoddy inn you're staying in. You haven't run into any soldiers just yet, but you're not willing to push your luck. It's bad enough as it is.

Back at the inn, the others are already turned in for the evening, though you do check in briefly with Lea before making your way to your own room. There's not much else to do - you're meant to be laying low, hiding out in this shitty port city and avoiding the parade of soldiers passing up along the coast. But you're getting rather restless - and so is everyone else, for that matter.

You let out a long sigh, reluctantly preparing for bed, and it's a few more hours still until you are able to fall asleep, tossing and turning in your bed, listening to the distant ocean waves outside.

You don't get to sleep for long, though. A pounding on your door wakes you up, and you intend to ignore it, burying your face in your pillow - but minutes pass, and it doesn't stop.

"What the fuck," you hiss, throwing off your blankets and stomping across the room.

You rip the door open, scowling out into the hallway to see Merry.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you snap, but she just shoves her way through the door, shouldering past you and stopping short in front of your fireplace.

For a despairing moment you think she might be drunk - but when she looks back over at you she is very clearly not, her eye sharp as she glares at you.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you!" she jabs a finger at you, and you just raise your hands, bewildered at her anger.

There's a sudden uncertainty that flickers across her face then, and she drops her hand, blinking over at you, taking a step back and shaking her head. You wait for her to say something - but she doesn't, instead turning back around to stare into the fire.

"What do you want, Merry?" you prompt, a little gentler this time, though your agitation is still apparent - you can't help it. When she still doesn't say anything, you begin to feel a little less forgiving.

"Merry." You take a step towards her, your voice hard. "Gods, you always do this," you scoff then, and that gets her to at least look at you again.

"How are you going to come in here like this and still stonewall me?"

"What were you thinking about earlier? At the docks?" she says after a long moment.

You blink, stunned into silence at the absurdity of it.

"What - Merry, I told you," you shake your head, running your hand over your face. "Is that what this is about? Have you just been stewing about that all night? I wasn't thinking about anything."

"I was thinking about you," she says softly, and you're stunned back into silence again, but only for a moment, before your anger returns.

"Yeah? Not Ronan?"

You think she's going to hit you for that, and maybe you'd deserve it.

"No. Ronan…" she starts, seems to consider her words for a moment - and then she does lunge at you, grabbing the front of your shirt, both of you staggering across the room until you bump into the corner table. But she stops short of anything else, just staring at her hands, at the straining fabric bundled in her fists.

"Ronan," she starts again, her voice tight, "I'm not ready to talk about Ronan yet."

That's the most she's ever even said about it - you still don't even know who Ronan is. Or was. Important enough to get their name tattooed on her neck, though. For her to still wear a ring around her neck. Merry drops her gaze then, and you reach up to put a hand over one of hers, her grip loosening on your shirt.

"I was thinking about you. What's going to happen when all of this is over," she says slowly, and then she lets go of you, pulling her hands back, your own hand dropping back to your side.

You realize then that she's leaving, reaching for the door, and you quickly step after her, grabbing her wrist without thinking.

"Merry, wait-" you barely say her name before she's spinning around, grabbing your shirt again, only this time she pulls you toward her instead of pushing you away, your bodies colliding and pressing together, one of her hands moving to grasp at the back of your neck and urge you even closer. You search her face, watching as she licks her lips, your breaths intermingling before you close the remaining space between you.

The kiss is rough, Merry's hand tightening as your own hands grasp at her hips, both of you tripping over each other as you move towards your bed. Her lips are soft, warm and wet against yours, and she teases you with her tongue, tasting you before she pulls back, dropping down onto the bed and dragging you after her.

You barely manage to catch yourself, hands on either side of her head as she reaches down to pull at your trousers. Your breath hitches as her knuckles brush against your bare stomach, her eye watching your face, your reaction, flicking to your lips as you lean closer.

She lets go of your trousers as you kiss her again, instead slipping her hands beneath your shirt, reaching up and dragging her nails down your back, the sharp pain getting a hiss of pleasure out of you. Merry's lips move against yours, and she swallows the sound with her own, moaning low in the back of her throat as you shift on top of her, your bodies pressed flush together, her heart beating loudly against yours.

She says your name then, turning her head slightly, and you pull back, breathless as you look down at her, her hands still trailing up and down your back, tracing the muscle there, her touch lighter as she skims over old scars. She presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, one more against the jagged scar along your jaw, and then she takes a deep breath, retracting her hands from beneath your shirt and rolling out from under you, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

You don't move, your breath caught in your throat, and you expect her to get up and leave then - as abrupt as she had arrived. You're burning under your clothes, her touch still lingering on your back, the prick of her nails no doubt leaving long red lines carved into your skin.

"Merry?" you say softly, sitting back on the bed, and she turns back to look at you over her shoulder, though the look she gives you indecipherable. Her breathing is still a little ragged, and she leans forward for a moment, as if to stand - but instead she lays back on the bed, reaching over to give you a very uncharacteristic kiss, your eyes fluttering closed as she cradles your face in her hands. She pushes you down against the pillows then, straddles your lap, pinning you beneath her with her hand moving to your throat.

You reach up to grab her arm, stroking the soft skin of her inner wrist with your thumb, feeling her pulse jump at the touch. And then the moment passes - whatever weird feeling constricting in your chest is replaced with the very familiar feeling of want as she pushes her weight down on you, her hand tightening around your throat, licking her lips as she leans in close and resumes the earlier urgency between you as if nothing had happened at all.

You can't ignore it later, though, when she thinks you're asleep, extracting herself from your arms and moving to sit on the edge of the bed again. You feel the mattress shift as she stands, hear her move around the room, collecting her clothes you both had enthusiastically discarded earlier. She gets dressed, pulls her boots back on, and then you hear her put a few logs on the fire - before the door opens and closes, leaving you all alone.

[eggmeralda]

that period of time between south park post covid being announced in 2021 to summer 2022 when everyone got obsessed with truffula flu was moderately heavenly