#if you want to discuss anything i'm up for it

[4evrgreeny]

Hey @bluesciencefoodoperator I debated responding to your comments at all for a while, considering your tone and clear attempts to derail the conversation away from the issue of people letting domesticated cats free roam, and their impact on the local ecosystem.

But then I remembered, we're on the same side here. We both clearly care about the environment, assuming of course, that your comments on my post are anything to go off of. So take this as my attempt to bond on our mutual love of both the environment and cats.

I want to start this off on a positive note, you brought up some really good points in your comments. Pesticide usage, cruel and or apathetic people, habitat loss due to urban expansion and farming, irresponsible dog owners, corporations poisoning the water we drink and the air we breath, are all really good and valid causes to bring up when discussing actions that damage the ecosystem. I don’t want to ignore the valid points you made.

With that being said I find it somewhat confusing that you said all those things while hiding in my comments section instead of either re-blogging this post with those points as an addition (don’t be scared, it would have been a wonderful addition to the post, I love when people add onto what I have to say) or even made your own post talking about the issue. I stalked your page a little couldn’t find any posts talking about this issue. Instead you choose to comment attacking the others commenting on this post. Again, we are all on the same side here, there's no reason or cause to be so rude about all of this.

Your rather unkind comments are wasted on an audience that already cares about the ecosystem. You’re starting a fight with those on the same side as you. Arguing doesn’t help anyone, community does. Maybe try working on building more community on this issue instead of arguing about which issue is more worthy of being talked about.

I also want to address the comment you made, that was directed at me instead of the (wonderful) people in my comments.

This is a multifaceted issue, meaning that yes, it’s not just the irresponsible cat owners that are causing the degradation of the green little orb we call home. But it being a multifaceted issue does not mean all facets of this issue, have to be brought up all at once, every time the issue is brought up. Nor does it mean any post speaking on a specific facet of the issue is claiming that the issue they brought up is the entire issue.

At no point in time did I, or anyone else in my comments (as of 07/11/2025) say anything about blaming the cats. It’s not the cats fault it’s a cat and will act the way it was bred to act. I directed the post at cat owners, as they’re the ones causing the issue.

I love cats, I’ve owned cats my entire life, as such I’ve grown incredibly fond of the species. So when I am unfortunate enough to drive past dead cats on the side of the road, or hear of people’s cats leaving to free roam one day and never coming back, knowing all the horrid ways they might’ve died, I want to do what I can to prevent that ending for other cats. I tell people to keep their cat/s inside because I love cats, not because I blame the cats.

I'm not here to attack cat owners, I am very well aware that if someone's been raised with outdoor or indoor/outdoor cats there's no real expectation that they'd think of indoor/outdoor or outdoor cats as anything other than normal and appropriate way to treat their cat/s. This post is my attempt to help spread information on why keeping indoor/outdoor or outdoor only cats is harmful to both the cats and the outdoors. It's not meant to shame, merely to educate.

I know some people think those who believe cats should be indoor only hate cats, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. An overwhelming majority of those who advocate for keeping cats indoor only, I’ve met love cats, they often have their own cat/s. They tell people to keep their cat/s inside not because they hate to see them out and about, but because they are aware of the danger and risk free roaming your cat puts them in.

Yes there will always be those who tell people to keep their cat/s inside because they do hate cats, but from all of my experience those are the minority.

However even if they were the majority, their reasoning doesn't change how keeping your cat inside, and allowing supervised outside time will still help the cat and the local ecosystem even if the person suggesting keeping your cat inside is doing so because they don't like cats.

We wouldn’t have the feral cat problem we have today if people kept their cats inside. We wouldn’t have so many species struggling or gone extinct if cat owners controlled their cats.

I don’t blame the cat for hunting, anymore than I’d blame the dog for barking. It’s what they do, they’re unable to reason as we do, which is why it’s the owner’s who are causing this issue not the cat, in that it’s not the cat’s fault their owner is irresponsible.

I’m not necessarily saying all this just for you specifically Blue, because if your previous comments are anything to go off of, I’m not entirely confident you’re open to an actual conversation, though I do pray you prove me wrong, as this is an issue I’m very passionate about and would love some more in-depth and detailed conversations on what people can do to help the ecosystem thrive.

Just as a side note. My post focused on cats specifically, because it’s a two birds one stone issue for me. I love cats, and as a result of that I know very well about all the things that can hurt and kill a cat when they free roam outside. I also care about the ecosystem, so encouraging people to be responsible cat owners, is about both protecting cats and protecting the ecosystem.

Sorry this is rather long, this isn't just for you bluesciencefoodoperator this is also for anyone who see's the original post and has similar feelings wanting me to discuss other issues that impact the ecosystem.

I'd love if we could have a discussion on this, however if your comments are anything to go off off, it doesn't seem you're open to an actual discussion. Which is fine, if you don't want to reply, you don't have to. I just hope your day got better from whatever made you upset enough to be so rude in my comments. :)

If you care about your local wildlife, you won't let your cat free roam outside. There are ways to allow your cat some outside time that will keep both your cat and the local wildlife safe, if that's something you're set on. Enclosed outside spaces (catio, enclosed patio area, properly fenced-in and cat-proofed backyard) or taking your cat on walks are both great ways to get your cat outside while still keeping your cat and the local ecosystem protected.

[imjunebitch]

Hi. My name is Lili, I'm also a trans woman. I'm reaching out in good faith because I really really fear you might be heading down a dangerous ideological path by being a trans woman that gives credence to the term 'transandrophobia'

I'm not sure how I could truly convey that you are aligning yourself with terfs and other reactionaries, and these people will toss you in the trash the moment you stop being a useful dancing pony for them. These people will demand that you hate yourself for being a trans woman, they will demand that you agree with them when other trans women are harassed and unpersoned. They will demand that you make yourself small, and it may take years for the psychological toll to fully unravel for you.

Frankly, I was going to just block you, and move on, but you're Miku pfp demanded that I at least try to warn you. Miku is transfeminist, and it's a bit concerning to see someone sporting Her as a pfp and not realize that.

I'll quit rambling, and tbh, I hope I'm wrong. I hope that you are never subjected to the things I described. I would like to be proven wrong about all of them.

be careful though, maybe my message today will make more sense as time goes on.

hi! ill start with the single kind thing i think I can possibly say to u! I was kinda miffed by those condescending anonymous asks, and I'm incredibly grateful that this ask, while condescending, is not anonymous! and thanks for that! shows u have a little conviction, even tho u are wrong.

ill just address your "points" in order. probably easier to read.

yes, okay, im a trans girl. yes I think transandrophobia exists or I "lend credence" to the idea or whatever. this is ideology to u? that's interesting. my acknowledgement is less based in any specific theory or ideology, admittedly, and more in observing the world and the people around me. for example, I am close friends, both irl, and online, with quite a few transmascs and men. i can see, with my eyes, the way they are treated. and do you know what I've seen? its every single bit as fucking bad as the way trans women and fems are treated, jerk! and on top of that now they have to worry about attacks from within their own community? from assholes like you? Jesus Christ you people are insufferable!!! i fucking love transmascs! as friends, allies, found family, and a boyfriend now, somehow, im super lucky, and I can fucking see the way they are demonized inside and outside of the queer community. treated as men only when it can be a justification for hurting them and treated as stupid and misguided otherwise. it makes my blood boil knowing that they are subject to this mistreatment, and that people like u don't care. that u sit around and discuss your intersexist exclusionary theories and sneer at your closest allies. that u spend the time writing this ask out to warn me, a non-passing tgirl, of the dangers of the scaaary trans men as if u wouldn't see me as a man if u saw me on the street and didn't know anyway. knowing that u look down on my wonderful and sweet partners for the crime of not presenting the way u do, and not experiencing your exact experience. it DISGUSTS me. YOU disgust me.

i think we're doing good work here! point two!

oh it looks like the second point is just "Jesus Christ how fucking dare u." huh. genuinely tho, how dare u? how dare u act like trans men wanting a term to discuss their own oppression is in any way anything like a TERF? ur the fucking TRF my friend. toss me in the trash? dancing pony? tf are u on about? do u understand that I am not doing this for approval? im doing this bc I think it's right to stand up for people I love and just to be good to people in general! how fucking dare u act like ive been fucking brainwashed by transmascs into showing men the common courtesy u show human beings! the people i talk to now, which includes a fair amount of trans women actually, shithead, are incredibly accepting of me, bc, unlike u, they aren't prejudiced against a massive chunk of trans ppl for existing! they actually respect them! are there bad people on my side of "transandrophobia discourse?" sure! fine! but dawg, your side has fucking soup-mother. your side has plaidos. your side is fine with calling nonbinary people slurs that originated on four chan. your side quashes gnc and intersex transfems voices. your side uses a terminology that inherently acts like intersex people are acceptable collateral damage to ensure that ur oppression is the source of all other oppression in ur own mind. your side is, actually not only far less accepting of transmascs, but it is horrifyingly willing to mistreat transfems. the singular thing u pretend to care about.

and also my personal beliefs used to be closer to yours, back when I was far more stupid and self involved. i fucking got over myself. I had just figured out I was trans. i was lonely and scared and also seventeen, altho I'm only eighteen now. and it still took me less than a week to realize the horseshit ppl like u pedal is horseshit. the fuck's ur excuse?

PLEASE just block me Jesus Christ. i agree. Miku is a transfeminist. as am i. Miku loves trans people. i do as well. i don't think u do. i think u love urself, and the people ur willing to relate to. i think u won't extend compassion beyond that which u can relate to and I think that's a vile disturbing and bigoted way of looking at the world. block me. i hope someday that u become a better person so the person u are now fills u with shame and remorse. and I hope u stay the fuck away from trans men and mascs, altho they're used to being mistreated by other trans ppl now, thanks to shitheads like u. i certainly hope u stay the FUCK away from recently out trans women bc ur poison ideology is most likely to hurt them.

[darklucielle]

'Innocent' Massage

Red Velvet Joy x M Manager POV

Tags: Gentle Dominant, Fingering, Oral, Creampie, Cowgirl

I came to Joy's condo to discuss some things about her upcoming schedules. Such as magazine photoshoot, Interviews and the scheduled table read for a Netflix korea series.

I entered the passcode and went inside.

"Joy. We need to discuss some things about your upcoming schedules." I looked up from my papers and froze as I saw Joy sitting down on her hundred thousand dollar sofa chair. The only thing that I am surprised is she's only wearing a wrap white dress. Her bare feet and thighs are exposed. The absence of her underwear is obvious.

"So... Are we going to discuss my schedules or letting you ogling at me?" She giggled. I snapped back and cleared my throat to compose myself.

"Sorry.. It was just unexpected to see you wearing nothing down below."

She smiled. That smile is totally familiar to me. Ever since I got a job as her manager, I couldn't believe that she's a flirt and shameless. She keeps teasing me with dirty innuendos and flirty touches.

"Well... This is my home so I can be practically naked like today." She stretches her arms that caused her dress ride up. Slowly exposed more skin to my sight.

"Why not give me a massage while I'm reviewing the drama script? There's a massage oil at the shelf." She ordered.

I don't have a choice but to obey. This job gives me enough money to survive in this fucked up economy. My friends are jealous because I got to work alongside with a popular celebrity.

I grabbed the massage oil that she wanted then went back to her. She's currently reviewing the script for her netflix korean series project.

"Massage my feet and thighs. It became sore after I jog this morning. I think I took it far than usual." She explained while still looking at the script.

"Fine.. Fine.. Whatever you say so." I opened the cap of massage oil and pours an appropriate amount at my hands then I started to massage her heels all the way to her toes and back.

"It's been a month since you became my manager. Are you happy working for me?"

Her question made me froze. Happy? I guess so. Despite how hetic her schedule most of the times, seeing the work gets clearly done without problems makes me feel good. It's hard but worth it. Work is usually hard anyways.

"So far... Yeah. I'm happy to work for you. It's people's fantasy of working with her favorite celebrity. I'm practically living their dream."

My response made her laugh. "True. It's just like me ages ago when I was dreaming to become a popular celebrity and here I am. Living my own dream."

"Of course, You can easily achieved your dream because you are talented, pretty and hardworking woman. You're the men's dream girl."

"That's the fact. I couldn't even count how many men trying to court me but I keep rejecting them. I'm just a woman who prioritized my career before anything else."

"That's great thing tho. Sometimes, A celebrity relationship won't work at all. It's better to prioritize yourself first."

She nodded solemnly. I remember her and that soloist guy broke up after two years and that break up shocked the whole nation.

"Speaking of relationship. Have you ever been into one?"

I stopped massaging her legs then shyly shakes my head. "Honestly.. I don't have any. I'm scared of rejection so I don't confessed my feelings to the girls that I like."

"Oh really? That's pretty sad. You don't know that maybe one of your crushes is actually likes you too."

"I hope so... For now, Work is my priority."

"Speaking of crushes. Do you have a celebrity crush? Don't be shy. Be honest."

"My... Celebrity crush?" I looked at her then shyly looks down. Continues my massage despite the blush on my cheeks. "Actually... It's you, Joy."

She gasped out loud. As if she didn't expected my answer at all.

"Really? Is it me? Oh my gosh! Look at you, you're blushing hard. So cute!"

"Can you just stop teasing me and just... review the script."

"Fine.. fine... Atleast you're living the men's dream afterall. Massage my thighs as well. I love the feeling of your hands on my skin."

I blinked at her words. There's another hidden innuendo on it. I gulped hard before I proceed to massage her thighs slowly and gently.

"Hmmm~~ That's nice. Keep doing it."

Continues to massage her lower thighs. She lets out a series of gasps and moans as she still reviewing the script.

"Go higher."

I obliged. My oil coated hands went upwards slowly. I tried my best to keep my own arousal hidden as possible. My cock is fully erect and straining against my pants.

"Much higher."

"But..."

"No buts. Just do it."

Hestitantly went higher than appropriate. My hands are now at her inner thighs. At this point, I learned that Joy doesn't really wear her panties today. Practically naked she said.

My fingertips brushed against her most intimate part. That made her head threw aback. She spread her thighs apart.

"More... More touches like that..."

"I.. I don't think this is appropriate, Joy."

She shoots me an angry stare. Clearly disappointed of my hestitation. She reached out and grabs my collar to pull me towards to her.

"I fucking know that. I'm your fucking client and you're supposed to be doing what a client wants. Right now, All I want is your damn fingers on me."

I nodded. "Yes, Joy. I'll do what you want."

She plops back on her chair. "Good. Make it nice and slow right there. Insert your fingers at my cue."

"Understood."

I continued massaging her there. My thumbs courageously rubs her clit. It's wet and warm. I never thought this is that soft. I encircled her clit clockwise and counter motions slowly and gently. Her hips slowly rocking along with my fingers.

"Put two fingers on it."

I nodded. Immediately inserts my fore finger and middle finger slowly inside her wet clit. I gasped on how wet and warm inside of her. It was also tight but I keep pushing my fingers in.

"Ohhhh... Shit. That feels good! It's better than fingering myself."

With a surge of pride and confidence. I curled my fingers to touch her special spot then increased the pace. That made her back arched off from the chair. Her hips keeps grinding against my fingers.

"Fuck... Keep going.. I'm almost there..." She breathlessly said. Her eyes shut tight and her knuckles turned white as she roughly clenches at her sofa chair.

I redoubled my efforts. Determined to satisfy my celebrity crush. My fingers are working non-stop to push her into the edge. To finally reach her climax.

"GODDAMN IT! I'M GONNA...." She didn't finished her words as she lets out a high pitched moan.

Felt the gushing waves of her orgasm. Coating my hand and made a mess on her chair and the floor. She plops down after she experinced the heavenly feeling.

None of us are able to speak. Both of us are in dazed on what just happend. I couldn't believe I got to sexually satisfied my celebrity crush.

Curiousity picks in, I placed my fingers inside my mouth then hestitantly sucking it. It taste better than I imagined. It taste like pineapple. Both sweet and tangy. I just realized that she ordered me to buy a lot of canned pineapple juice yesterday. That makes sense.

"Taste good, right?"

I nodded shyly. "Yeah. It does."

"Now.. now.. Let me return the favor. Sit on this chair. I'll make your fantasies come true."

She guided me to sit on the sofa chair. She kneeled down and working to unbuckles my belt with an ease.

"Wait.. Are you sure about this? This is too far."

"Oh, don't be a coward. I know you wanted this, right? You want my lips around your cock." She removed my pants then groped my erection through my briefs.

"Consider this as a perk of working for me. You worked so hard, You deserved this."

I couldn't help but to moan as she touched my cock. It is true that this is what I fantasized before.

She pulled down my briefs to let out my throbbing cock. It nearly hits her face as it sprang forward.

"Hmmm~~ Very clean and hard. You took a good care of your cock. That's impressive."

Before I could respond. I felt her tongue slowly licking from the base up to the tip. Her eyes are locked on mine as she worked her tongue all over my cock.

"You don't know how much I want your cock. I keep giving you hints here and there. Just sit back and relax."

She wrapped her lips around the tip. I felt her tongue swirling around it. It made me threw my head back.

Because of my reaction, She proceeds to suck my cock inch by inch while she still looking at me. As she reached the base, she slowly went upwards then goes back down again.

The way her cheeks hollowed as she sucking my cock and her tongue working hard underside is insanely good. I watched enough porn but feeling it personally is just too much to handle.

Her hand fondles my balls as she continues to suck my cock. She increased her pace slightly. The lewd mouth sounds of hers fills the whole condo unit.

She guides my hand to hold her hair into ponytail as she redoubles her efforts. I feel like I'm going to cum soon. The prospect of cumming inside my crush's mouth is just crazy shit to imagine.

She felt that I'm almost there. She tripled her efforts. Trying to chase that climax.

"JOY! I'M GONNA CUM!"

I exploded inside her mouth. Ropes and ropes of thick cum spurts inside. It took me a while until it's all done. I plops back at the chair exhausted. I opened my eyes and Joy showed me how much I cum at her mouth. It was overwhelmingly much than I expected.

I was surprised to see her swallowing it with an ease.

"Taste sweet. This is why I told you to drink the pineapple juice."

I remembered that she orders me to drink it along with her. She said it's for the 'health'. Yeah right.

"But we're not done yet, baby. Clearly your cock wants more."

I looked at my cock and still standing strong despite what happend earlier. Before I could speak, She straddled me. Felt my cock entering her wet pussy smoothly. We both moaned in unison. My hands went to grip her hips instinctively.

"Ready to experienced every men's dream? Call me Mommy."

"Y-yes... Mommy... I do."

She smiled sweetly then rocks her hips slowly. She lifts off her dress to expose her fully bare naked body to my sight. Her breasts, full and perfect is bouncing at every moves she makes.

"Want to touch it, baby? Go ahead. It's all yours." She guides my hands to grope her breasts. I knead her busts gently. Felt her nipples poking at my palms. Courageously, I leaned forward to claim her lips in a gentle kiss. I'm inexperienced but due to determination to make her feel good, I tried my best.

She can tell that I'm not used to kiss someone on lips. She patiently guides me how and able to kiss her deeper. Our tongues dancing in a sensual dance of tango. Definitely living the men's dream.

After kissing her, I trails my kisses down to neck. Giving it a gentle bite on her pulse point and suckle on it. Making her moan out loud. Tilting her head for more.

She's kinda sweaty but even her sweat taste good. My hand went to grope your bare ass, kneading it gently as she still riding my cock.

My kisses went down to her breasts. Admiring how full and perfect it is. I peppers kisses on it's swell until I closed my lips into one of her nipples. It made her arms wrapped around my neck as she pulled me closer to her.

Went to other breast to give it an equal attention. I couldn't stop myself loving her breasts.

My hand went to rub her clit. Trying to make her come undone. Matching the pace of her riding my cock.

"Oh gods! My fucking god! baby... I'm almost there!"

I continued fingering her clit. Anytime soon, she will see the stars once again.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Ahhhhh!!!"

Her whole body twitches. Felt the another wave of her orgasm. I didn't stop fingering her until she plops into me. Breathless and spent.

"Mommy... Can I cum inside you?"

"Sure, baby... You can.... I took a pill today."

Swiftly changed our positions. I made her sit on the sofa chair. She gasped because of my sudden actions. I watched enough porn to know what I'm going to do.

Plunged my cock back to her wet pussy and starts thrusting in and out in a hard and deep pace. Felt her arms and legs wrapped around me. Pulling me into impossibly deep.

My breathing comes ragged and heavy as I pistoning my entire length inside her. God, I don't even want this to end. I want to prolong this sensation of our skin slapping skin.

"I'm gonna cum... Mommy..."

"Yes... Do it. For mommy. Fill Mommy's womb with your lovely seed."

That was the trigger. I bursted another wave of cum inside her. Painting her inside white, making sure that even her womb is filled. The sensation is crazy, Unimaginable one. Never thought sex would be this good. Bordering addictive.

We held for each other for a while. Trying to catch our breath as we slowly decended into the reality. I nuzzled to her neck, Inhailing her intoxicating scent of sweat and sex. Our genitals are still stucked together. Neither one of us wanted to get off. Just stayed still under the sunset's glow filled the whole place.

We slept wrapped around each other.

I'm really living the men's dream.

-End-

[saint-starflicker]

I think of sort of like:

Process. Everything written down is on the other side of fear. At the same time, while it's common to claim that "you can always tell" when something is a hashtag aspirational fantasy as opposed to processing trauma, I'm going to give the benefit of the doubt that some traumatized people can simply be unskilled writers. That doesn't mean they shouldn't write it out anyway, and I don't even think there should be a disclaimer that "the person who wrote this has all this trauma" because then even somebody who is writing it to get their jollies off can just make that claim without it being true; and then somebody who is genuinely traumatized shouldn't be pressured to divulge that in exchange for being less harassed or less criticized.

Scope. How many people did this work qualifiably fuck up in front of? If it's a fanwork for a fanbase of 50 people and nobody took anything into offline interactions, then it can be understandably disappointing but that is still Euclid; But if it's somebody wealthier than the Queen of England whose outrageous success has changed publishing and cinemas as an industry, it's Apollyon.

Framing (Extradiegetic/Doylist). Magical realism has some amount of disability and rape as tropes, it's not an exploration of stigma or trauma, it's just casually there more often than in some other genres—So did Laura Esquivel and Isabel Allende fuck up representation of situational mutism for everybody? Or is there a cultural context that would benefit readers outside of Latin America to wonder about before we criticize and stereotype?

Form, Style, and Literary Devices (e.g., Diegetic/Watsonian framing). This can be discussed analytically or as a matter of personal preference or personal taste, how the use of the medium and the honing of the craft has designed this, that, or other effect to be interpreted.

Diverse interpretations. Did Lady Macbeth henpeck a contemptible pathetic husband into murdering a good friend, or did she support him in his pursuing what he really wanted to go for that she knew he needed encouragement to do because they're just that close and that's their marriage dynamic? Not everybody can be Shakespeare, but pretty much every fictional text can be interpreted in multiple ways. Nonfiction can get more straightforward about it, I think that's expected, but while misreading fiction has happened too (the interpretation of Horton Hears a Who as anti-abortion; Fight Club and Project Mayhem as hashtagging life goals), there tends to be the saying that if a fiction author wanted to explain what everything in the story meant or what its message was then they would've written an essay instead of a story.

depiction isn't endorsement but not all depictions have the same merit

[creatingblackcharacters]

Sorry to detract from any discussions, but I wanted to bring up something I feel is important and ask for anyone who experienced similar to speak out.

So I used to be in the Epic the Musical fandom. Left because of the anti-Black racism (especially towards the actors for Eurylochus, Calypso, and Ares).

Recently, one of the artists who worked on one of the official animatics for Epic (Liam, AKA Eldelta) had come out explaining how Jay had strung him along with the promise of a contract to develop a video game based on the IP, causing him to miss out on potential jobs and leave him unemployed for a year.

Currently, the fandom is writing him off and sweeping it under the rug. Ignoring it and hyping up Jay's next musical.

Which Jay posted a joke video/small update that he's only named the first song. Not even a genuine update on how far he is in the process. Just as Liam's video was starting to gain traction and spread in the fandom.

Which beings me to the reason I'm here in the inbox.

If there's any Black artists who worked with Jorge Rivera-Herrans and had a similar experience to Eldelta's, I want to ask if they'd be willing to speak out about their experiences. Because knowing how this fandom is and how Jay talks on social media, I sadly know there's a high chance that there is probably quite a few. And I don't want their voices to get buried in the excitement of a new project while the creator continues to exploit others.

Ah yes, The Iliad musical. I gotta hurry and finish my tenure in the Patrochilles fandom so I don't shoot myself from sheer boredom with White™ character design and "quirky" or "academic" racism. It's already bad enough on the Outskirts of the Greek Mythology fandom as it is 🙄

Here's the thing. You're asking Black creators to speak out if they've been mistreated by a popular creator, risking their own status and job opportunities in the field.... but you weren't even willing to send this off of anon. You are asking them to speak from a target of fear and threat and retaliation, that you yourself weren't willing to do for less 😅 And I'm not even saying that to hurt your feelings, but honestly to make you (and ALL of you reading) reflect- where are you going to be, if/when they make this statement? Will your voice be heard? Will theirs? Because Jorge knows that his fan base will accept anything, be damned the antiblackness in his content. They already did!

Who's going to support these Black creators and platform them when they speak? Who's going to take the brunt of the hatred and cruelty and racism and shield them from it, other than other Black people? I do believe speaking up is important (and they should, if they feel safe), but I also think we need to recognize that sending Black people into the mouth of the beast in order to "save themselves" is not the strategy we continue to think it is. Hell, I just dealt with that racist bitch last week, and for all of the people who she and her friends bully for creating Black characters, there were crickets when she was called out by an actual Black person. 😐 We can't all want someone else to speak (and everybody isn't me)!

If I see anything I'll absolutely platform it. I think that space is far too comfortable and I for one think you shouldn't get to be antiblack and comfortable! But secretly agreeing in backrooms that someone is racist has NEVER gotten them removed from a position of power or influence. Y'all are gonna have to respond with your chests, so your Black peers can hear you supporting them- otherwise, we need not ask them to speak up.

[baisemains]

Elements of Desire

Chapter 11: I'll Be Your Strength

single mom!sevika x fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

contains: angst, some fluff, mentions of past emotional abuse, language, hurt/comfort

description: coming face to face with your past leaves you shaken, but the person in your corner has your back, in more ways than one.

a/n: hi guys!! i'm so sorry for not posting the last few weeks, this chapter is a bit shorter than the last few but i hope you still enjoy it, happy reading!

ao3 link | spotify playlist

previous // sevika masterlist

You can feel the instant change in atmosphere as the entire group goes from lighthearted and cheerful to suddenly on edge in a heartbeat, gazes immediately flitting to the newcomer. Spine rigid, your fight or flight instinct kicks in immediately, but you know there's nowhere to run. Swallowing harshly, you take a moment to collect yourself before addressing the woman in front of you while trying to ignore the stares boring into your back.

"Gert. I didn't expect to see you this weekend."

Your throat is tight, voice is clipped. You can feel Sevika's gaze on you, the rage and worry radiating off of her, but you don't turn, not wanting to meet those eyes just yet. Instead, your attention is focused on your ex and trying to convince yourself that she's not going to say or do anything irrational in front of the kids.

All you can hear is the sound of your heartbeat thudding in your ears as Gert takes a small step closer, that same sickeningly sweet smile still on her lips. "Neither did I, but I guess the universe has its reasons for everything."

That causes Sevika to finally move forward but the hand rubbing your legs shoots out low enough to stop her before she can do anything drastic. The motion catches the intruder's eye, gaze flickering with amusement as she puts the pieces together.

"Well, we should go, Genevieve presents tomorrow and needs her rest."

Gert then moves to place her hands on her daughter's shoulders, the teenager looking extremely uncomfortable with the situation at hand.

"Maybe we'll run into you again before the weekend's over."

Not waiting for a reply, the woman turns around to exit the ballroom, her daughter following right behind her without sparing you a second glance.

Once they're gone, you finally let out the breath you were holding in, body immediately deflating now that the immediate danger is gone. Your shoulders slump as you try in vain to get your heart rate back to normal, hands noticeably shaking. The other patrons in the room mill about like they were before the encounter, but the slight ringing in your ears is all you can focus on at the moment.

"I, um..."

Finally breaking your silence, your eyes flick around to the face of every person in your group, a varying degree of concern in all of them. "I think I'm gonna head up for the night."

Giving Ekko's parents a tight smile, you tell them you'll meet them in the lobby in the morning as previously discussed, before turning to the two teenagers and telling them to have fun at the party. Once you face Sevika, you can see in her face that she wants to say something, but you interrupt before she can get the chance.

"I'll call you later."

Ducking your head and hastily walking towards the elevators, you leave everyone behind in an awkward state, unsure of what to do. After a long moment, Sevika and Ekko's parents politely say their good nights to each other and tell their respective child to be safe at the party and when to be back at their room.

Kissing Powder on the head, the older woman watches the girl leave with her classmate, staying at the table far after they've left her sight. The last few minutes replay in her head as she begins to get upset with herself for not saying something to Gert, but she reminds herself that it was your situation to handle and not her place to jump in. Sighing deeply, she begins making her way to her room upstairs, thoughts of you still on her mind.

When Sevika reaches your shared floor, she walks up to her door before stopping in front of it and glancing over at yours down the way. Tapping her room key against her other hand, she debates whether to wait for your call like you said or to check on you now. After a few long moments, her concern wins out and she heads over to yours before lifting her hand and gently rapping her knuckles against the wood.

You've already removed your shoes and flopped down in the center of the bed when you hear the knocks, lifting your head to see if you heard right. Part of you wants to ignore it, pretend that you're already fast asleep, but you know that she won't leave until she's at least seen you. With a reluctant sigh, you push yourself up and swing your legs off the bed before padding over to the door and opening it.

Your face must look more tired than you thought, as the sight of it causes her expression to soften. It's quiet for a moment before she speaks.

"Can I come in?"

You don't protest, only moving aside to let her enter, closing the door as she walks past you and taking a few beats to collect your thoughts.

"How are you doing?"

You give a noncommittal shrug, walking over to sit down on the bed where you'd been before. "I've been better," you reply quietly, keeping your head low to avoid making any eye contact.

Sevika comes to sit down next to you, staying a few inches away to give you the space you seem to be silently asking for. The other woman fidgets with her fingers, not wanting to push you but also not wanting you to bottle your feelings up, especially when it comes to this situation. She's just about to say something when you break the silence, voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't think I'd see her ever again, let alone this weekend. I just...wasn't prepared." You bite your bottom lip before finally meeting her gaze, trying to keep your expression neutral but failing when you see the worry in her eyes.

"And not just that, but seeing Genevieve so grown up now, I..."

The other woman gives a small nod and hesitantly lifts a hand, pausing before gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you feel the contact, leaning into her touch and subconsciously shifting closer until your shoulder bumps into hers. Her hand starts to move in firmer circles, the motion surprisingly helping to ease some of the tension in your muscles. You're surprised she's able to read you so well, but you're thankful for it.

After another few moments, you manage to speak again. "I'm just so tired. Every time I think I’ve healed and moved on, I’m pulled right back in."

Sevika continues the impromptu massage, a small sigh falling from her lips at your divulgence. "Some wounds never completely heal," she tells you, her voice quiet but steady. "They just become more manageable as time goes on."

Her palm presses down on a particular spot of your lower back, making you release a small groan as tension you didn't know was there eases, your body unconsciously curving against her. Feeling you relax under her touch emboldens her slightly, pressing her hand in between your shoulders and working out even more of the knots in your back.

"You can't keep holding everything in, you know," she murmurs, shifting to push her prosthetic thumb against a stubborn muscle and drawing a sharp inhale from your throat. "At a certain point, you're gonna break."

Nodding slightly, you exhale before replying, "I know, it's just that...I've worked so hard to get past it, I feel like I'm going backwards." With a slight shake of your head, you feel the emotions rising to the surface, but you finally let yourself embrace them, feeling safe in Sevika's presence. With a crack in your voice, you tell the woman, "I just want to be happy."

The movement against your skin stills, your words hitting her right in the heart as she hears the waver in your voice. Her warm hand then lifts to your chin, gently cupping it and turning your head to face her. "Hey, look at me." When your eyes meet her own, she sees the unshed tears that have collected, feeling her chest clench at the sight. "You will be."

With me, Sevika thinks to herself. Seeing the pain in your eyes, she pulls you in and wraps a strong arm around you as if to tell you so without words. You all but melt into her, hands clutching her shirt tightly as your shoulders begin to shudder. Her grip tightens as she continues to rub your back, silently letting you know she's there. The dam that’s been holding everything back finally breaks, tears streaming down your face and dampening the soft fabric of her top, each breath coming in short gasps accompanied by a hiccup. Sevika simply holds you through it, murmuring little nothings in a soothing manner and rubbing your back while you let it all out.

You cling to the woman, the anguish intensifying as your shoulders start to shake. "I don't want to feel like this anymore," you sob, burying your face in her shoulder and squeezing fistfuls of her shirt. Her arms tighten around your frame, a large hand smoothing over your back to try and calm you as you allow the emotions to take over. "Shhh, I got you," Sevika whispers, resting her chin on the top of your head. "I got you."

Eventually, your breathing begins to even out and the tears slowly come to a stop, the only sound in the room being the steady thumping of the other woman's heart against your ear. Your grip on her shirt loosens and you pull back, lifting your face to reveal the tear tracks on your cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Her heart breaks at the sight of you but your expression is noticeably more relaxed than when she came in, which gives her a small amount of solace. She reaches up to gently wipe underneath your lashes, softly telling you, "You're okay."

Giving her only a slight nod and a half smile, you feel a little embarrassed about the breakdown. "Sorry," you offer softly, averting your gaze entirely.

Sevika tuts quietly and hooks a finger under your chin, forcing you to look at her. When your eyes meet again, she gives you a small grin and whispers, "What have I told you about apologizing for everything?"

That gets a small giggle out of you, remembering the conversation she's referencing from a few months prior. It seems like so long ago now, and you think about the progress you've made since then, the walls you've started to let down. Without warning, you swoop in and press a gentle kiss to Sevika's lips, pushing everything else out of your mind and simply letting the other woman consume your senses.

The motion catches her off guard, her entire body going rigid for a split second before softening considerably. Her hand slides to the back of your neck, thumbing over the soft skin as she returns the affection, eyes sliding closed as she loses herself in the moment. You gently bite her bottom lip, causing her to release a small sigh in the back of her throat, and you smile against her mouth. The kiss stays slow and gentle for the next few minutes, not in search of more, but instead a bubble of comfort.

When you finally part, you remain close enough to exchange breaths, foreheads resting gently together. She slowly opens her eyes and you stare into them, taking in the sight of her so close. Her thumb rubs gently over your separated lips, breaking the silence with a soft, "Better?" You give a small nod and affirmative hum, reaching up to cradle her cheek in your palm in return. "Good."

The corner of her mouth twitches upwards slightly at your behavior, eyes still studying your face and scanning over your expression as if to make sure you're actually okay. When you don't break her gaze, she lifts her hand and places it over the one on her cheek, leaning into it as she closes her eyes and lets out a deep sigh. Something in her chest twists as a realization hits her in this moment, but she pushes it back down, not ready to voice it just yet.

Sevika changes the subject to something lighter, sensing that you're done talking about the Gert situation, which you're thankful for. As the two of you talk, the thought of her knowing you this well plays on a loop in the back of your mind, exciting and terrifying all at once. Almost two hours later, Sevika happens to see the clock on the wall behind you and checks her phone, pursing her lips as she realizes the time.

"I should get going, Vi's gonna be back from that dance soon."

You nod in acknowledgment, knowing tomorrow will be a long day. As she stands up from the bed, you follow and stretch your arms above your head with a groan, the fatigue finally hitting you. When you lock eyes, she asks, "We’ll grab breakfast in the morning?" You give her a small smile and nod, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. The older woman has to stop herself from actually cooing at the expression you're wearing, instead opting to wrap you in a warm embrace that you reciprocate right away.

Pressing yourself against her, you inhale deeply and get a whiff of her familiar scent. She tucks your head into the crook of her neck, placing a kiss on your head before murmuring, "Get some rest, okay? I'll see you tomorrow." You nod against her, not wanting to let go quite yet, but your tiredness wins out as she gently detangles herself and heads to the entrance. Before leaving, she flashes a tender smile and closes the door behind her.

When the door finally clicks shut, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you that nearly makes you dizzy. You barely remember to set an alarm before slipping into your pajamas and crawling under the covers. Drifting off into a somewhat fitful sleep, thoughts of the woman down the hall dance through your dreams.

Sevika is fresh out of the shower when she hears the room door open, signaling that Powder is back. After drying off and throwing some comfier clothes on, she heads out to the living area and sees the teenager grinning at her phone and typing away.

“You have fun?”

Powder looks up from her phone and purses her lips, cheeks brightening to a noticeable shade of pink. "Yeah, a lot. Ekko's pretty cool, actually."

Sevika hums quietly, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Is that why you're smiling so hard? Texting him?" The question is mostly rhetorical as she takes a seat on the couch next to Powder.

"Yeah..." Powder lays her phone face down next to her as she fidgets in her seat before facing the woman. "He asked about hanging out when we get back home."

At that, a brow lifts curiously, the older woman turning more to face her daughter. This was news to her. "Oh? And what did you say?"

Powder shrugs casually, playing off just how giddy the suggestion made her feel. "I said I'd ask you, and we talked for a bit more after that before the party ended and we had to go back to our rooms."

"I see." She doesn't miss the excited look in her daughter's eyes, deciding to take the conversation more seriously rather than playfully teasing her. Leaning back into the couch, the woman considers her next statement. "And you want to hang out with him again?"

Powder nods enthusiastically, biting her lip to try and contain her excitement. She knows her mom isn't against her having crushes, but she's also not the most relaxed person when it comes to it either. "Yeah, I do. He's really nice and pretty fun. And..." she trails off before mumbling, "he's kinda cute."

Sevika lightly bites her tongue, running it over her top teeth before replying. "I see." She's still getting used to having a teenager that asks permission before doing things and not one that she has to hunt down after doing what Sevika told her not to. "He seems respectful from the time we talked at dinner."

"He is, really," Powder affirms quickly, the eagerness in her voice quite obvious. Sevika's heart melts just a bit at the look on her daughter's face, a small sigh leaving her mouth at how much like a little kid she still manages to look sometimes, even with all the effort the teen puts into looking tough. Sevika hums in contemplation for a couple moments before saying, "I don't see a reason to say no, but we'll talk more about it when we get home, okay?"

Powder's eyes light up at that, a grin overtaking her features as she nods vigorously. "Okay, sounds perfect," she replies, trying her hardest to sound as mature as possible about the situation. The expression makes Sevika laugh softly, shaking her head at how adorable her daughter looks right now. "Alright, now tell Ekko good night and start getting ready for bed, we have to be up bright and early tomorrow."

The teenager pops up from the couch and salutes vigorously before grabbing her phone and heading to her suitcase to begin pulling her toiletries out. That gets a chuckle out of the older woman, shaking her head once again at the theatrics. She watches her daughter move around, a strange feeling blooming in her heart. It was almost bittersweet, seeing Powder begin to grow and blossom into a young woman as opposed to the little girl she used to be. The thought makes her chest ache slightly, but a happy one, the kind that comes with pride.

After Powder heads to the bathroom to change, Sevika strolls over to the decently sized fridge in the kitchen and opens it, curious if it's stocked with anything. To her pleasant surprise, there are a couple rows of water bottles on the middle shelf, labeled with the hotel's logo. Opening it and taking a sip, she notices that it's decently cold but still not to her liking. She searches the freezer before moving to the cabinet above the sink and finds several glasses along with a small metal bucket. Bingo.

After knocking on the bathroom door, she asks, "Hey Powder, I'm gonna go get some ice from the machine, you want anything from the hotel store?"

Powder pokes her head out of the bathroom before opening the door completely and tapping her finger on her chin. "Hm, something sweet would be nice, if that's okay." Sevika smiles at her before replying, "I guess I could bring you some chocolate." Powder grins and begins walking over to the double sink with a "thanks", allowing Sevika to slip on her shoes and exit the room with her wallet and bucket in hand.

She stops by the candy shop in the lobby first, already knowing Powder's taste in sweets, before heading back up to grab the ice. The machine is on the opposite end of their floor, tucked away in its own private corner, and Sevika almost gets turned around a couple of times due to the sheer size of the place. When she finally locates it, she sets the bucket in the designated spot under the dispenser and presses the large button on the front of the machine. The bucket is about halfway filled when she hears soft footsteps walk up behind her and calls over her shoulder. "I'm almost done, it should be just a minute or so."

"Oh, take your time, I've got all night."

Sevika freezes instantly, releasing the button and dropping her hand to the bucket's handle. She's only heard that voice once before, but it instantly raises her heartbeat, a scowl already forming on her features. Slowly turning around with the ice in hand, she comes face to face with Gert, a smug look dancing across her face, arms crossed and eyebrow quirked like she knows a secret Sevika doesn't.

Every muscle in Sevika's body tenses, eyes narrowed as she takes in the woman standing in front of her. She can already feel her blood begin to boil, but she keeps her composure, not wanting to allow her the satisfaction of knowing just how much she gets under her skin. "You're staying here?"

"Yes, actually, on this very floor. Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

Sevika can hardly believe the audacity of the woman trying to get a rise out of her, but as much as the thought of physically retaliating plays in her mind, she does her best to appear calm. "Hilarious," she grits out.

As she moves to walk past Gert and back to her room, the other woman makes a comment that stops her in her tracks.

"Good luck this weekend. Especially with that one."

Sevika's teeth grind together as she comes to a standstill, a sharp inhale of breath audible in the sudden quiet of the hallway. She can only stand there seething for a moment longer before turning back around, unable to stop herself from snapping, "What did you just say?"

'What you heard," Gert replies nonchalantly, shrugging a single shoulder. "I know how overly sensitive she can be, and I know running into me probably sent her into an episode. Typical."

That sends Sevika over the edge, and she steps forward until the two of them are chest to chest, smoke practically pouring out of her ears. "Don't you dare fucking speak about her. After all the bullshit you put her through, you get zero say in how she heals, you hear me?"

That pulls a wicked smile from the younger woman, but Sevika doesn't miss the flash of nerves in her eyes, gone as quick as it arrived, but still noticeable. "Oh, are you her bodyguard? How long have you known her, a few months maybe?" Gert puffs out her chest in an attempt to look more menacing, but Sevika couldn't care less, rage coursing through her veins. "We were together for years, you don't understand her like I do."

Sevika barks out a laugh at that, narrowing her gaze as she does. "Right, you understand her so much that you still went and cheated on her."

"Is that what she told you?"

"That's what she showed me. I saw the texts between you and the wedding planner, you went behind her back for over a fucking year, and she broke it off when the planner told her everything. So don't try to spin me the same shit you're telling everyone else, I know exactly what you are."

Gert's jaw tightens at the words, but she stays quiet for a moment before a scoff leaves her lips and she replies, "You think that's the whole story?"

"I think it's the truth."

"Funny how you think that you know her so well based on the one side she told you. Did she also tell you about her panic attacks? The trust issues? The constant clinginess?"

"So your answer was to go and have an affair, and then lie to everyone about who actually cheated? That's an asshole move however you tell it."

"I was in a loveless relationship, what was I supposed to do? Let her take her time with her issues while I just sit and wait for something to happen?" The words come out before Gert can stop herself, but she doesn't regret them, not when it finally gets Sevika's expression to falter slightly. The older woman's jaw clenches tightly at hearing them, eyes hardening in a heartbeat. "She was struggling so badly for months before I even started looking elsewhere. I got tired of trying to fix something that wasn't there anymore, is that such a crime?"

"So you break up! Holy shit, how hard is it to understand that you don't cheat on the person you love?" Sevika's chest is heaving at this point, several emotions swirling in her chest the more Gert tries to explain herself.

Gert scoffs, rolling her eyes like the other woman is being ridiculous by reacting this way. "Right, because she could really handle a break up in addition to the panic attacks she was already having. She could barely be alone, how do you think she would've reacted to the only person she had leaving her? She would've spiraled and you know it."

Sevika's fingers itch at her side at how indifferently the other woman says that, a scoff of her own leaving her mouth before she replies. "You say that like you were doing her a favor, how noble of you. If you were so worried for her, why didn't you suggest therapy? Why didn't you talk to her about how you felt before going behind her back and doing what you did? You have some balls to try to paint yourself as some self-sacrificing saint."

"Oh, please. You have no idea what it was like being trapped with her, watching her fall apart at the smallest thing. It's not like it was the first time she pushed me away, I was sick of being treated like an afterthought, I had needs and she wasn't giving them to me, so I found them elsewhere. And frankly, it was the best decision I've ever made."

The sound of the ice bucket dropping to the floor reverberates throughout the hallway as Sevika grabs Gert by the front of her shirt and pins her against the wall. To her credit, Gert doesn't cower at the motion, keeping her chin lifted and refusing to back down.

Sevika's face is only a couple inches away, eyes narrowing further as she snarls, "You're a selfish, heartless, lying, manipulative, egotistical snake. Count your blessings that I love my daughter enough not to jeopardize her place in this competition, but let me see you any place else outside of this hotel, and I won't be as kind."

Taking a step back, she adjusts her clothes and picks up the previously forgotten ice bucket before casting a threatening look towards the woman against the wall. "Keep her name out of your mouth and stay away from her." With that, Sevika marches off down the hallway, disappearing from the younger woman’s line of sight and leaving her to exhale deeply.

Throwing her head back, Gert closes her eyes and quietly curses herself for acting the way she did, so used to being on the defense, even when she's in the wrong.

Unbeknownst to her, Genevieve was right around the corner, listening to the entire conversation. What had started as her going to ask her mom a question after she left her phone in the room ended in a revelation of biblical proportions. The teenager then scurries back to their room, hopping in bed and pretending to be asleep by the time her mom walks back in. For the rest of the night, she can barely sleep, the discoveries of the hours before bombarding her thoughts.

taglist! @daughterofthemoons-stuff @vii-v @runawaybaby3 @ferxanda @sevikas-whore @vikashoneybee @sleepingwasp @savedforlaterr @lia-winther @bebadoobie @nymanas @dyketoast

[jeromesankara]

Higgs is an Abuse Victim and I'm Tired

Hi. I think I'm about to make people mad with a hot take.

Spoilers under the cut for Death Stranding 2, as well as discussion of abuse and victims and assault.

Higgs is a male abuse victim. And I think if Higgs was a woman, he'd have been treated much differently.

And I know what you're gonna say. "Isn't this the 'you'd like Amelie if she was a guy' but in reverse?" No, actually! Because I hate the President in DS2 and he is basically having the same purpose as Amelie but that's not what this is about.

Higgs has been abused his entire life. From his Uncle to Amelie to the Beach. We know in his journals he was beaten regularly, there's even evidence of sexual abuse as well, but that part isn't as concrete as the fact that Higgs was raised in a living hell in a shoe box he could not escape from. So what did he yearn for above anything else? Power. Control. He took power back in violence to save himself, and I think that's really all Higgs has done after.

He knows violence keeps himself safe. It keeps himself safe when his DOOMS weakens and he has to kill to 'recharge' it. People liked him, though. Veteran Porter looked up to him. He started finding purpose. Maybe could have let the violence go if he didn't meet his next abuser, Coffin, who used him in her terrorist activism against Bridges and further poisoned the well.

Higgs was abused and he was left to rot in his abuse his entire life. He was a male abuse victim who was not expected to be savable. Fragile, meanwhile, was literally healed of the physical scars of Higgs, even. She will never completely recover from what Higgs had done to her, but she has the support to help her become a better person.

"But he abused Fragile!"

Yes! Which brings me to my next point. Fragile is ALSO an abuse victim under Higgs. He took away her youth, basically assaulted her and tortured her, and soiled her company and made everyone think she was a monster. But y'know what? Fragile was allowed help. Higgs, though, only spiraled deeper and deeper.

Higgs is still an abuse victim. And even in the shallowest of times where he was allowed to grow past being a victim, it wasn't for long. And it's because he had power to protect himself from being a victim again that he's seen as worse than the devil.

Now, Higgs did awful things in DS2 too. He killed Fragile. He tried to kill a baby. He brought violence into the world. I don't think DS2 Higgs could have been saved. I think he was past saving at that rate, as painful as it is for myself to admit. But he wasn't always past saving.

Higgs just walked on broken legs ever since he could crawl.

Higgs never had the chance to heal. This is even BEFORE the fact that we talk about this man constantly drowning in chiralium that drives people insane. And do you think being stranded on a beach that is so soaked in chiralium it can keep an eternal fire burning... for eternity is a great place for your mental health?

He didn't give weakness because he wasn't expected to. He wasn't allowed to break down when Extinction depends on his work, when God is in his ear telling him that he's finally achieved power to end the suffering he had endured. Higgs was given power he always craved and he was going to use it to stop suffering. Meanwhile Fragile just existed licking her wounds and waiting for someone else to get Higgs on his knees for her.

Fragile had Sam. Had Bridges. Higgs did not. Higgs had abuse. And maybe it's because Higgs is a man that he was expected to carry the pain of a lifetime of being used. Because his abuse also came from women. But I don't think anyone's really willing to talk about that, nor how Higgs has never had a figure he could trust to even begin healing.

And I'm fucking tired of people treating Higgs like he's a demon because DS2 forgot about his entire history and turned him into a one dimensional cackling monster. Higgs was not allowed to change because the story didn't want him to. The story only wanted a villain.

"But what does this do with Higgs being treated differently as a woman?"

Because women in this universe in general are treated differently. I know that's a blatant Kojima thing, but look at all the female characters and tell me that if they did what Higgs did that they wouldn't be forgiven in some way.

Amelie is just as abused in what is expected out of her as Higgs is. But she gets protected because she didn't have a choice. And yet Tomorrow clearly made the choice to not follow the path of Extinction at the end of the game after the fucking baby vore. So apparently. The choice has always been there. Thanks for that, Kojima.

Just look at Amelie.

Amelie. A fucking. Extinction Entity. Is forgiven. She started the Homo Demens. Not Coffin. Everything began with her. She strung Sam and Higgs along in a game to reconnect the UCA so she had a proper foothold to begin extinction. Even more than that, her being an extinction entity is a closely guarded secret throughout the entire world. No one breathes her name. But Higgs? Nah. Fucker tried to blow up the world all on his own. He's a boogeyman.

I could keep going. I want to keep going. But I'm just tired.

Edit: I'm adding one last note about how this game loved to string around the idea of trying to stop cycles of violence by supporting one another. People being brought into the Magellan crew to be supported. Even if Higgs couldn't be saved, it would have been nice for a single person to be like: "...Hold on." And really thought about what causes a person to be too far gone. No one speaks Higgs' name outside of venom.

He's just a Boogeyman. A monster. He is only evil.

[the-exiled-comic]

You're Starclan's strongest soldier for leaving comments on most of your work. People are so weird (and rude tbh) about how they comment on this comic. I always see stuff like people wishing your characters harm, and even wishing some characters death. Or even just commenting callously on complex characters or arcs, as if you're obligated to make every cat a "good person."

I'm not articulating my thoughts well, but it's just really disappointing to see comments that are so shallow and antagonistic, especially when there's so much character development to enjoy and discuss instead. I think there are so many unique characters in this comic, including characters who have serious flaws and do bad things. That makes them and their place in the narrative interesting! It means I can be angry, or frustrated, or saddened by their actions and outcomes, and that's so cool! That's just good storywriting! Anyway thank you for writing really unique characters that make me feel things. I look forward to how they will continue to make this story more and more interesting!

yeah i feel like i have beat the dead horse (that isn't dead until people remember the point of book reports in school) by talking about it so much, and i don't want to be the creator who's always lamenting about their audience. it just feels negative and reductive. but. commenting... it is a thing that i really wish people would try to think more about.

stuff like bad faith takes, commenting without reading, trying to subvert where the narrative is going/being contrarian, etc, etc. it just hurts not only the author of the comic but also the other authors who see those comments and get discouraged about their own work. the people who see that the readers can't understand a complicated dilemma, and decide to dumb theirs down so that it's easily understood and that they don't receive backlash for being controversial

no one wants stories like that. no one wants more bland "oh gosh im so sorry i hurt you with my feelings, generational trauma is so hard but im glad everything is all better now!" modern disney stories that can't tell anything but a basic "maybe no ones really bad... let's be friends and fix it together with forgiveness" moral.

if you want more good stories you have to know how to see one and you gotta trust the passionate people trying to make them. not saying the exiled is top tier, it's really flawed in its own way. but there are sooooo many wonderful webcomics with complex narratives and messaging that makes you think and feel. that are greeted with "the character did a bad and its not woke??" and it makes me sad, because you gotta be kidding me. be real with yourself. admit when you see flawed, dirty, emotive characters who screw up, that you feel something way more than you do the ones that do everything right the first time and never struggle.

[wendichester]

Hi! First of all I really appreciate what you do! could you make a sweet fanfic where Sam and Dean know the reader (who is their sibling) is asexual and just try their best to be supportive? I'm guessing Dean wouldn't understand much at first but would still try to make his sibling comfortable. Sam would probably do a lot of research? I like to think the reader even overheard them talking about it at some point

⋆.𐙚 ̊ no less,

pairing. dean + sam winchester x sibling!asexual!reader (gn) genre. comfort

wordcount. 455

notes / warnings. light discussion of asexuality, mild confusion, big brother fluff, acceptance, emotional support, overheard conversation, light teasing, a warm ending ( pretty please excuse me if any of this is inaccurate!!! )

ᯓᡣ𐭩 you might also like sam x asexual!reader

It wasn’t a big moment.

There was no dramatic coming out, no confetti or tears. You just said it one day, offhandedly, in the middle of patching Dean up after a hunt.

“I think I’m ace.”

Dean blinked at you. “You mean like—good at cards?”

You snorted. “No. Asexual.”

He stared for a second. Bloodied towel still pressed to his ribs. “Huh.”

You didn’t expect fireworks. You didn’t expect hugs or speeches. But you weren’t sure what to expect at all.

Dean just scratched the back of his neck. “So… like, no sex?”

“Yeah.”

“At all?”

You paused. “Kinda depends. For me? Not really interested.”

Dean went quiet. Thoughtful. Then: “Okay. That’s cool.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t totally get it, but you know—people are people. You’re still you. Just less likely to be scarred by my stories.”

You laughed. Actually laughed.

“Still love you, freak,” he added, ruffling your hair. “Even if you’re missin’ out.”

Sam, on the other hand, found out because he pried your search history.

Not in a creepy way. The bunker’s WiFi had been acting up, and he checked the network log to see who had thirty tabs open on a Tuesday night.

The answer: you. All about asexuality.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just brought you coffee the next morning and asked if you wanted to talk.

You didn’t.

But he handed you a sticky note later that day anyway. It just said:

you're not broken. you're not alone. if you ever wanna talk, i’m here.

Typical Sam.

You didn’t mean to overhear them.

It was late, and they thought you were asleep.

You were walking to the kitchen for water when you heard Dean in the library, voice low.

“…so like, they just don’t want it?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “It’s not about trauma or repression or anything. It’s just how some people are wired.”

“Huh.”

A pause. Then:

“But they still want connection, right? Like hugs and all that?”

“Most do, yeah.”

Another pause. “So I didn’t screw it up by not saying anything all fancy?”

“You were fine, Dean. They’re not asking for a TED Talk. Just to be seen.”

Dean made a sound. “Well. I see ‘em. I mean—hell. Still my sibling. Still my favorite pain in the ass.”

You smiled into the shadows.

Sam chuckled. “Mine too.”

You never told them you heard.

But the next time Dean threw his arm around your shoulder and squeezed a little longer than usual—

The next time Sam handed you a book called Queer: A Graphic History and said, “no pressure, but it’s cool and inclusive”—

You let yourself feel it.

Loved. Understood.

No less.

Just different.

And that? That was enough.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[phantombegruvia]

SFTH MURDER MYSTERY - PART 14 [JOHN JACOB AND RUMPLED POV]

MASTERPOST

*no CW needed

[WAYNE MANOR STUDY - 21:45]

“Uh, this is the clock,” John Jacob gestured towards the grandfather clock - apparently it might be a door, according to Margaery.

Margaery analysed it, really closely. She was practically laying her eyeball on the wooden object. It acted as though it didn't notice her, tic tic-ing away. She dropped to her knees, feeling around on the polished wooden floor, humming.

“The floor is scruffed, look,” she pointed to the floor, and, lo and behold, the flooring was marked slightly. The markings itself was in a curve.

“So,” Derek squeaked, “it is a secret door?”

“Yep, I was right,” Margaery brushed her knees as she stood up, “now, how on earth do we open it?”

John racked his brain, attempting to find any answers, when it felt like a candle was lit inside his mind, “what if it's the code that Rumpled found?” John suggested, “what if the code isn't a code? What if it's a time?” He walked towards the clock, pushing the hands, “eighteen minutes past five.”

The clock made a clicking noise as John moved the hands, and finally, as he moved it for the last time, the clock made a louder click. John had to move backwards slightly when the clock moved like a door would.

“Ha, you clocked it,” Margaery said, before, “oh, I hate myself for that.”

John just looked at her, confused, before shaking his head. Derek stepped forward, not going into the secret room, but just peeking his head through.

“It's just.. stairs?” He said, looking back at the two, “just stairs.. leading to, er.. darkness.”

“Sounds exciting,” Margaery shrugged, before grabbing a candlestick. She pulled a lighter from her pockets and lit it, before starting her descent, “come on, lads!”

Derek and John shared a somewhat-anxious look, before hesitantly following her down the uneven stone stairs.

[WAYNE MANOR FIRST FLOOR - 21:45]

Rumpled was getting gradually more and more annoyed at the guests, namely Ethel and Tracey. Ethel was just being.. Ethel, she was being over the top and was not understanding anything. While Tracey just.. wasn't pulling her weight. She was distant, and not joining any discussions.

It didn't feel like neither Esmeralda or Amanda were helping much, either. Esmeralda was understandable, in a way, she was recovering from being poisoned - but her vampirism ensured a fast recovery, and she was already back to full health. Or, well, whatever was full health for a vampire. Amanda, on the other hand, was fine, she was healthy, but she seemed to be more.. enthralled by Esmeralda that she didn't seem too focused on anything else. She was also quite negative when it came to discussions.

So, as Rumpled watched the two entwine their figures, he had to hold back a groan, “alright, we shouldn't wait around for them, we should continue our search.”

“Two hands are better than one!” Ethel almost sang, “that's what I've said - oh! But three hands! Does anyone want to lend me a hand?”

“I.. would,” Helter had to inch backwards, as Ethel's nose was practically touching his, “but, I don't think you mean it in the metaphorical sense.”

“What's a meta for?” She smiled, like a wolf would to its prey.

“I'm not going to engage with you anymore,” he sighed, before shuffling away next to Tracey, “what are you thinking about?”

Tracey made a startled noise, before recovering in record time, “oh, nothing. Well, actually, I'm thinking about this guy I met in Marbella, he was a bartender and wow was he fit.”

Rumpled watched Helter as his face fell, obviously giving up asking anyone anything.

Esmeralda whispered something into Amanda's ear, who was now more relaxed when she was previously scared.

And, at that moment, the lights turned off without warning. Rumpled sighed, knowing what that meant.

part 13 << part 14 >> part 15 MASTERPOST

[pa1strifies]

the alcott: let it happen

pairing: jack doohan x driver!reader

summary: jack accepts a bet to make you fall. he didn't expect to actually care. you didn't expect to trust him. now neither of you can tell what's real, and what was a part of the bet.

main masterlist ✷ series masterlist ✷ ch.2 ✷ ch.4

warning: some misogynistic stuff, toxic bet, all lowercase, jack's japan crash is mentioned, use of yn

a/n: y'all please comment or use asks to talk abt the alcott or my other story. i want to hear what y'all have to say🫶🫶

your head rested on lance’s shoulder, trying to sleep but all you could about was jack’s crash right in front of you. the fact that he didn’t respond, how he couldn’t stand up without your help. 

it played over and over in your mind. 

you thought of the team meeting, “last warning, yn. you can't be this reckless. you already have 8 penalty points.” you didn’t say anything, just looked at your shoes like a scared little kid getting scolded by their parents. 

“you okay?” lance asked, softly. 

“yeah.” you lied. 

a few seconds later, esteban spoke up “i’ve seen you with jack a lot these days” 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, an eyebrow raised.

“nothing just an observation.” 

you nod, not knowing what to say. 

esteban speaks after a few seconds, “he’s really nice you know?”. 

“yeah he seems nice.” you say, unbothered.

“i think you talk to him.” 

you don't reply, esteban's first statement replaying in your mind.

“he looks up to you, yn.” esteban says. 

“just talk to him please.” you don't say anything. “for me” he adds. 

you roll your eyes “if i say yes, will you stop pestering me?” 

“yes” he says happily. 

“then i will talk to him”

jack was alone during the drivers parade, he didn’t know who to talk to. he pretended to check his phone.

you were in a corner, almost hidden by lance and esteban.

“hey jack” he hears your voice, you sign him to come over.

he joins them as you, esteban and lance rank the coffees in the paddock. 

“no williams’ coffee is one of the best.” you said. “stake was also good” 

“aston is good” lance says.

“no” you say, simply. 

"WHAT" lance says, animated. you just shrug.

“what abt redbull?” jack asked. 

“they should stick to energy drinks.” you say, causing lance and esteban laugh. 

jack smiles, feeling comfortable while the three of you discuss coffee again. 

the conversation was interrupted by natalie pinkman. 

“so yn. pole position, congratulations. how do you feel about the race?” 

“i'm really happy with pole position, of course and i’m looking forward to the race. we have the pace.” 

“that’s a great spirit to have.” 

“and we have to talk about japan. you getting out of your car in fp2 to check on another driver? you don't see that often do you?”

you shrug your shoulders. 

“you know that is against protocols” 

“sure but i'd rather get told off for caring than drive away when someone might need help” 

“a lot of people online are calling you heroic, while some are calling your actions reckless. what do you have to say to that?”

“i don't really care as to what the internet had to say about me. i did what i thought was right”

“well thank you so much, yn” 

you hand her the mic back and turn around to continue your conversation with lance and esteban. jack, sitting a little to the side, listened to the whole interview, noticing the way you didn’t so much as glance at him when you turned around.  

taglist: @the-navistar-carol @landorris@sainz0fthetimes @anunstablefangirl @ceekokocee15 (taglist is on)

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

okay I made this point rather pissily in the replies to some post or other, so I will try to make it again a little calmer in its own post but

my least favourite thing about the backlash to Andor overall and especially Season 2 and the resurgence of the discussion about the versions Rogue One went through as it became the movie we got (which is great and very interesting and Jesus Christ, some justice for Gareth Edwards and his team!!)... is this weird vibe I'm starting to get from a lot of people where "we really, really like this imperfect but very good movie" is shifting into "there was a version of this movie that I would have loved, but instead we got the worst version".

Like, I'm not trying to tell you what to think! And I too would be interested to see the original plans for the story! But... sort of in the same way I would love to see more concept art for my favourite animated films: because I'm interested in the craft and the process, not because I think the unfinished version was better and Tony Gllroy "ruined" it.

Because friends, let's face it: He didn't. We would all not be here if he had. We loved the movie that we saw in theatres, and we got attached to the Jyn we saw in theatres - and I use "we" deliberately, because I've seen all the gorgeous fanwork you all have made about the story we got over the years. And - again! - I'm not saying I wouldn't be interested in seeing a second version, one where Jyn was allowed to be more consistent with her backstory, and be a badass criminal, and one where we get an explicit romance. But honestly? I don't think I would have fallen in love with that story nearly as much as I did with the one we got.

I liked that Jyn wasn't mostly badass competent girlboss at the start. I'm not saying that she necessarily would have turned out to be some sad sexist caricature like... other... Star Wars ladies - but honestly, I have characters like that. And we got characters like that, by the way, because we got Saw! But mostly, honestly, I always thought "we're all Rebels, aren't we" and "I rebel" were kind of cringe, and I was delighted that they weren't in the final product. Because I think it's weird how they imply that being a rebel is sort of a purpose in itself for her - like it's not about who or what she's opposing so much as that she's being rebellious and contrarian and not like other girls people. That's something you see in fiction a lot, and it's always something that has never felt very real to me. That's not a sustainable motivation! You don't loose everything you have and keep going just because "fighting back" is who you are. And also, as someone extremely steeped in people privileged enough to exist and persist through two dictatorships in three generations by keeping their heads down, "it's not a problem if you don't look up" hit me like a ton of bricks. It's so good. It's so real. And Felicity Jones is a good enough actress to deliver that line in the one way that makes it work, where you can tell she doesn't mean it, and doesn't believe in it, but believes that it's the only way to live - and hates herself for believing that, and adheres to it anyway. I think allowing her to initially give in to survival instinct instead of being the brave strong self-sacrificing hero the story wants her to be is fascinating, and honestly narratively way cooler than having her also be a committed rebel who will stop at nothing to attain her goals. We already have that character. It's Cassian.

The way some people in my niche, who I know love this character and this movie at least as much as I do, are taking to talking about Jyn and the movie as a whole feels kind of disingenuous to me. And again, I'm not saying they're lying about their stances to make a point or anything. I'm just saying I think some of us are starting to loose the forest for the trees at this point. Like did you really always think that Jyn was actually a bad part of this movie and that she was a squandered opportunity and that she conformed too much to what the sad old brothers Gllroy want women to be? Because I think in many ways Jyn became a little better of a female character via the changes - the only thing that's changed post Andor is realising that this was probably fully an accident. Because yes, they were trying to diminish her and tone her down, but I actually think that turned out very much for the best. It gave her more of an arc, and also it allowed her to be flawed in an uncool way, which female protagonists are so rarely afforded. It wouldn't have struck me as much if her flaw had been that she was ruthless and efficient (which, again, she still is in the movie we got, we just don't see as much of it). She got to be imperfect in a way that isn't admirable, but human, and I really think that's better, and I'm willing to bet a lot of you also thought that. Don't let it get lost in the very valid criticism of Gllroy's unending sexism towards his leading ladies, but especially towards Jyn.

Also, is his obsession with who Cassian is and isn't fucking and is and isn't in love with at any point in his life deeply strange and offputting? Sure is! Doesn't change the fact that I think the change from a semi-established relationship that ends in survival and marriage to an unspoken blossoming something that got cut short by a heroic act of sacrifice is a better story. Again, I am discovering that Gllroy apparently didn't understand what he did right at all, but it is a better story. Also, sorry to say, I will sooner take all the meekness and reduction in the female lead and all the Bor Gullet nonsense over not having this story end in a total party kill. Everything this movie is to me came from the fact that they went there knowing it was suicide and then it was. Because that is so rare, and such an infinitely good, correct move for all those characters and the story they're in. Again, just my two cents, but this strange new drift that actually, we always thought all of the changes were kind of bad and oh if we could only live in the world where we got the og story... I get that you're curious, but I'm also very, very certain that I would still prefer the version we got. Even if Gllroy clearly had all the wrong reasons for changing it and it's great someone is calling that out, I still think ultimately we all got so upset with it because we did love the story that we got, and I'm getting a little tired of people increasingly acting like that wasn't any good, actually.

You're giving this clown too much credit.

[thejack-ofalltrades]

Get this out before the next one lmao

⚠️OUWA spoilers ep 62⚠️

Them immediately starting chaotic out the gate with kremy, making everyone put knifes between their teeth. "Gid just like the old days"

"Torbek can't understand you please lend torbek a knife"

Nikkie, mace and Richie with markers/pens in their mouths rp this

Amidor explaining he only uses his dagger to de-bone fish and skin rabbits. "Torbek skinned a rabbit once" 😔- torbek

"Make sure not to piss of the parytons so they don't get focused on us or they'll blow Gideon" (cause he's fire) -amidor

"Gelato's not vegan?"-krem "milk and eggs bitch"- torbek & gid (Scott pilgrim ref had me dead)

"This is just damn right sisyphean what he's doing" -krem "gesundheit" -gid

>after gricko turns into a dino< "yeah hey it'd me, it's 2024 now and there's a small vocal minority that's very upset that I can talk now"

"Your dinosaur music is gonna counteract their inherent and Primal hatred of humanity?"-krem *gricko continues playing jurassic Park theme* gid starts singing "secret lake" >in tune of secret tunnel<

When the parytons turned back human and fell into the lake "can yall swim!?" -krem realizing they can he imminently starts to strip down >and the visual was just really funny< him quickly taking his hat and jacket off and rolling his sleeves up and trying to get his shoes off. (Another moment of krem doing somthing good)

Kremy coming out of the water and stripping down to his undies to dry his cloths when bro could just use prestidigitation. And gid lighting a fire for them.

"There's one thing that mums love more than performing, and that's drugs yall must be teaming right now. Anyone got any opium or wood alcohol?" -krem after finding out they mums were trapped like that for 50 years

" oh yeah I happen to have both right here" -frost (Derek you kill me)

~just the whole scene around the fire~ (poor torbek)

"You know I've always wanted to be balls deep in an incubus- I mean succubus"- kremy (good lord rich has been feeding us all ep, also I could write a whole thing about this one comment)

"Should you be some band of thesbians" *gid motioning to him and krem* "we don't really get along with those"

A little later "OH thesbians"-gid *kremys small laugh and quiet "gid" * "I got water in my ears"-gid

When discussing what play to do "torbek wants to do cats"-torbek "u don't think I'm well suited for cats"- frost

MUDGE

The group trying to do Scottish accents

Torbek being horrified by mudge

Bezsleberrys make a return

Gids wish being for the hobgoblins who held him die horrible but funny deaths

Torbek wishing for gids knife and also wishing that gid can't wish for it back

Frost wishing the toilet away

Torbek and gid fighting "I tickle torbek till he wishes"-gid "jokes on you I like it!" -torbek "that was his wish"-frost

Torbek pisses gid off so bad bro litterally starts smoking >like out his ears<

Gid wishes for a lot of cool stuff which appears in his bag and it gets bigger "look at the size of your sack gid!" -krem "and also my bag is full!" -gid

Gricko becomes the groblin and turns to torbek and, in the most almost, regal voice, asks how tall he is so he can wish to be taller.

Gricko gets his deez nuts jokes back!

Gid wishes to be an expert at the machine on torbek he can see how the witchlight flows through torbek and the joke is made "of course witchlight is stored in the balls"

Kremy has a whole power trip moment about his last wish how he could litterally have anything, so much money, God like powers, anything at all >gid egging him on the whole time< and kremy uses his last wish on.... getting the knife back from torbek to gid and making it so its gids forever and ever ( we love our husbands)

Thank you Richie for feeding us so well this ep was so good can't wait for more witchlight

[sunsetmade]

hii sunny!!! congratulations on 500!!!! <3 I'm sooo excited to read everything you've posted so far for your celly 💗💗

can I request the prompt: “You’re insufferable.” — “You’re obsessed with me.” for rafe? I was thinking maybe a nice academic rivals kind of direction 🤭🤭 like they're both running for valedictorian?? if you don't write anything for this specific au/characterization of rafe then it's more than fine!!! let your creative direction lead you 🩷🩷 congratulations again!!! <3333

Thank you lovely!! I absolutely adore your work so I appreciate you for taking the time and reading mine!! 🫶 I hope you enjoy @starkeyvhs!

Dear Valedictorian…

Rafe Cameron x Reader

No one got under her skin quite like Rafe Cameron.

It wasn’t just the way he smirked like he knew something she didn’t, or how he leaned too far back in his seat during lectures as if gravity, like rules, simply didn’t apply to him. It was deeper than that. It was the fact that he was infuriatingly smart — smarter than he let on, smarter than anyone expected. And he wielded that intelligence like a blade, sharp and effortless, always aimed just close enough to cut.

That was what made him dangerous. Not just to everyone else in the room — but to her.

Because no matter how hard she worked, how many all-nighters she pulled, how many extra credit assignments she knocked out like checkboxes on a list, Rafe always kept pace. Always just one step behind or ahead. The only person standing between her and valedictorian.

And the worst part? He didn’t even need it.

Rafe wasn’t worried about scholarships. His future didn’t hinge on transcripts or GPA. He had family connections, name recognition, and money — all the things she didn’t. So no, he didn’t need the title. He wanted it. Wanted the game. Wanted her in the game.

Because it wasn’t about school.

It was about her.

He liked the chase. The back-and-forth. The way they argued like it was foreplay, subtle and strategic. Every raised brow, every smirk, every perfectly timed comment in a class discussion — it was all part of the ongoing war neither of them ever admitted to fighting.

And if she was honest — brutally, uncomfortably honest — she liked it, too.

She liked how he pushed her. Liked the spark of adrenaline when his name popped up next to hers on the leaderboard. Liked the way his eyes would flick to hers during a lecture, as if daring her to disagree — because she always would.

Their rivalry wasn’t confined to classrooms and grade books. It bled into late nights at debate tournaments, whispered jabs during group projects, long pauses in crowded rooms where he looked at her like she was the only one there.

And it wasn’t just academic tension anymore.

It was the kind of tension that hummed under her skin, that made her hyperaware of the way his shoulder brushed hers in narrow hallways, or how he always chose the study table directly across from her in the library — never beside, never too far — just close enough to provoke.

Like today.

They sat across from each other, textbooks open, laptops glowing, a silent battleground marked by highlighters and half-drunk iced coffees.

“You’re quoting Hamlet to win an argument?” she asked, flipping a page in her annotated copy, not bothering to look up.

Rafe tapped the eraser of his pencil against her notebook with just enough rhythm to be irritating. “Not win. To fuckin’ kill it.”

Her eyes lifted slowly, unamused. His were already on her — glinting, sharp, maddeningly smug.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, loud enough for him to catch it.

His smirk deepened. “You’re obsessed with me.”

Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Come on.” He leaned back in his chair — too far, as always — and crossed his arms behind his head like he was bored. “You annotate my discussion comments. You argued with Mr. Coleman for ten straight minutes just to dismantle a point I made about thematic irony.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Because you were wrong.”

He shrugged, slow and deliberate. “Sure,” he drawled. “Or maybe you just really like the sound of my voice.”

She closed her book with a soft thud. “God, you’re unbearable.”

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head with that same infuriating ease, “here you are. Same table. Same time. Every week.”

“I come here to study,” she snapped.

“Same,” he echoed, voice lower now, slower. “Though the company doesn’t hurt.”

Her heart skipped. She hated that it did — hated that his knee brushed hers under the table and her body noticed before her brain could tell it not to. And worse, she didn’t move away. Neither did he.

The silence between them thickened. His gaze didn’t waver.

She opened her mouth — to argue, to tell him off, to say something — but no words came out.

Rafe just smiled, lazy and lethal, and stood towering over the table.

“See you next week, valedictorian,” he said over his shoulder as he walked off — leaving her speechless, flushed, and entirely off balance.

Damn him.

Damn his smirk.

And damn the part of her that already couldn’t wait for next week.

⸻

Principal Edwards was almost too calm when he delivered the academic bombshell — like he didn’t fully grasp the chaos he was about to unleash.

“You two are at the top of the senior class,” he said, lacing his fingers together as he leaned back in his chair. His office was too quiet, the ticking of the clock above the whiteboard far too loud. “But as of now, it’s too close to call. Your final GPAs and senior project scores will determine who graduates as valedictorian.”

Rafe let out a low whistle, slouched in the leather chair like he was on a beach instead of a battlefield. “Who’s ahead?” he asked, already grinning.

Edwards paused — milking the moment, because he knew exactly what he was doing. “Point-zero-two difference,” he said finally.

Rafe turned his head toward her, that damn smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes met hers, bright and challenging, like he was daring her to flinch.

She didn’t.

She sat straighter, spine stiff, chin lifted. If he thought he was going to intimidate her, he’d clearly forgotten who he was dealing with.

“I’m coming for you,” Rafe said, voice low and deliberate, like a promise and a threat all rolled into one.

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Hope you’re ready to lose publicly,” she replied coolly. “Might want to practice your ‘congrats’ face for my speech.”

His grin widened like he loved this — like he lived for the push and pull between them. “You wish.”

“Oh, I know.”

The tension in the room spiked, thick with something that felt like more than just academic rivalry. It was competitive, yes — but also charged, like they were standing on the edge of something else entirely. Something neither of them would name.

Principal Edwards cleared his throat loudly, trying to reclaim control of the room. “I trust you’ll both keep this… cordial,” he said, though there was a hint of warning in his tone — like he’d witnessed enough of their verbal sparring to know better.

“Of course,” she said, voice honey-sweet.

“Always,” Rafe added, flashing her a wink as they both rose from their chairs.

They walked out of the office shoulder-to-shoulder, their footsteps echoing down the quiet hallway. The second the door shut behind them, the bickering picked up like a match to gasoline.

“You’re not going to win just because you can quote Shakespeare and flirt at the same time,” she snapped, clutching her folder tighter against her chest.

Rafe glanced over, one brow raised. “Flirting? Is that what you think this is?”

She gave him a sharp look. “I think you like the sound of your own voice a little too much.”

“And I think you spend way too much time pretending you don’t love it.”

“In your dreams,” she shot back, quick as a whip.

He grinned like she’d just proved his point. “Every night,” he said smoothly, falling into step beside her.

She rolled her eyes and kept walking, picking up the pace — but, of course, he caught up easily. He always did.

By the time they reached the end of the hallway, her heart was thudding a little faster than she liked, and Rafe was still smiling like he already knew how this story would end.

And that? That infuriated her most of all.

⸻

Chemistry was supposed to be neutral territory.

A world of formulas and reactions, balanced equations and predictable outcomes — nothing like the volatile, slow-burning thing that existed between her and Rafe Cameron.

But then the universe, or more specifically Principal Edwards with a cruel sense of irony, decided to pair them for the semester. Lab partners. Every class. Every experiment. Every volatile compound now placed between the two most combustible people in the school.

She had called it — loudly and without shame — “a tragic abuse of power.”

And she meant it.

Because Rafe wasn’t just a distraction. He was a menace. A maddening, insufferable, ridiculously intelligent menace who made it look easy. Who got under her skin by doing everything with this effortless confidence, like the world existed just to entertain him.

Like today.

They were halfway through their acid-base titration lab, and she was concentrating — carefully measuring out the hydrochloric acid, eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. She was steady. Precise. Intent on getting this right.

And then, of course, he opened his mouth.

“You’re holding the beaker wrong,” Rafe said from her right, leaning just close enough to make it feel intentional.

She didn’t even look at him. “I’ve got it.”

He gave a low, amused hum. “Sure. Just don’t want a repeat of last week’s little glass-shattering episode. Still finding shards under the burner.”

Her jaw tensed. “That was your fault.”

“Was it?” he said innocently, edging in just a little more. His voice dropped to something smoother, softer, far too close to her ear. “Could’ve sworn you just like it when I clean up after you.”

She froze.

Her fingers still gripped the beaker, steady, but the rest of her body went rigid. She didn’t respond. Didn’t trust herself to — not when her pulse had started racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the experiment and everything to do with the way he was looking at her.

And Rafe, of course, noticed. He always noticed.

“You’re quiet today,” he said, tone lower now — no trace of the usual cocky lilt. Just a quiet observation that somehow cut straight through her.

“I’m focused,” she muttered, eyes still locked on the liquid in front of her.

“Shame,” he said, and something in his voice shifted again — slower, warmer, almost coaxing. “You’re more fun when you’re snarky.”

That made her glance up.

And for a second, the world outside the lab — the burners, the chemicals, the scribbled notes on the table — just faded into a muffled hum. Because Rafe wasn’t smirking the way he usually did. He wasn’t wearing that mask of sarcasm or smugness.

He was just… looking at her. Like he saw something she hadn’t meant to reveal. Something he maybe didn’t even know what to do with.

And that unsettled her more than anything.

So she broke the silence with the only thing she could think to say. “You’re a distraction.”

The corner of his mouth pulled into the smallest of smiles — not cocky this time. Not teasing.

Just soft.

Like he liked the sound of it.

Like he’d been waiting for her to say it out loud.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because when she turned back to the beaker, hands steady but breath shallow, she could still feel the weight of his gaze on her — not laughing this time, not smug.

Just watching.

Like he was trying to figure out what reaction he’d just started.

Soon the December weather rolled around, bringing a nasty wintery weather.

The power cut out halfway through their library session, courtesy of a brutal December storm that rolled in like it had something to prove. The fluorescent lights flickered once, then died with a dull hum, leaving the two of them in a chilled silence broken only by the sleet tapping at the windows.

“Well,” she muttered, closing her notebook with a defeated sigh. “Guess Mother Nature hates AP Calc.”

Rafe stretched his arms behind his head like he hadn’t just spent the last hour irritating her with smug corrections. “Looks like you’re stranded, genius.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I walked here.”

“In the snow? You planning to hike back and freeze halfway?”

She didn’t answer.

He smirked, already standing. “C’mon. I’ll drive you. My car’s warm. I’m doing you a favor.”

She hesitated, weighing pride against frostbite. Eventually, she muttered, “Fine,” and followed him out — more out of survival instinct than affection. Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

Except somehow “I’ll drive you home” turned into Cameron house, fireplace lit, textbook open on the rug kind of energy.

And now, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his living room, wrapped in one of his sister’s oversized blankets, the wind howling outside while Rafe Cameron handed her a mug of hot chocolate like this was normal. Like this wasn’t the first time they’d ever spent time outside of forced group projects and sarcastic insults.

She raised the cup to her lips, paused, and frowned. “There’s… cinnamon in this?”

Across from her, Rafe took a sip of his own and gave a small nod. “Yeah. It’s good. Just try it.”

She eyed him like he’d handed her poison. “You don’t strike me as a cinnamon kind of guy.”

He leaned back against the couch, that maddening little smirk tugging at his mouth. “Maybe I’ve got layers.”

She arched a brow. “Doubtful.”

He laughed, low and easy, the kind of laugh that made her stomach twist for reasons she didn’t want to name. There was something unfamiliar about him like this — hoodie instead of his flannel, the soft crackle of the fireplace painting shadows across his jaw. He looked less like the perfectly put-together golden boy of their academic battlefield and more like someone real. More like someone warm.

And that was inconvenient.

They sat in comfortable silence for a beat, flipping through pages and occasionally brushing hands when they reached for the same highlighter. She tried not to notice how he kept glancing at her. She tried not to care.

Then, out of nowhere, he spoke. Quiet. Almost thoughtful.

“I like this.”

She glanced up. “Like what? Being snowed in and studying with me?”

“No,” he said, eyes meeting hers. “I mean… this. Studying with you. Even when you’re being mean.”

She blinked, unsure if she heard him right. “I’m not mean.”

Rafe tilted his head, smirking again. “You kind of are.”

She scoffed. “You bring it out of me.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” His voice had dropped, softer now, like he wasn’t teasing anymore. “You only act like this with me.”

She stared at him, her brain scrambling to interpret the meaning behind that. It wasn’t like Rafe to be this… earnest.

The fire popped in the background, heat crawling up her neck as she clutched her mug tighter.

“Is that a compliment?” she asked, trying to sound light.

“Maybe.”

He didn’t look away. And suddenly, she became hyper-aware of everything — the flicker of his eyes, the way he was watching her like he wanted her to understand something he wasn’t saying.

The air shifted. Not in the way it had when the power died, but in a way that made her feel like they’d crossed some invisible line. Like this wasn’t just studying anymore. Like this had never been just studying.

She looked down at the open textbook between them, trying to ground herself in derivatives and decimal points.

But her heart was somewhere else entirely — somewhere dangerous and warm and terrifyingly close to Rafe Cameron.

⸻

She’d absolutely killed her final project presentation.

Every word landed. Her voice was steady, her delivery sharp and poised. The slideshow ran without a glitch, her arguments were airtight, and she fielded the panel’s questions with ease. She saw it—clear as day—in the way her history teacher’s brows rose slightly in surprise, the subtle nod from the department chair, the quiet murmurs of approval that followed her as she stepped down from the stage.

She should’ve felt triumphant.

But as she walked off the auditorium platform, papers still in hand and adrenaline buzzing in her veins, her eyes found him.

Rafe Cameron, leaned casually against the back wall like he had nowhere better to be. Arms crossed and one ankle hooked over the other. He wasn’t clapping like the others. He wasn’t even smiling. Just watching her — that maddening, unreadable look in his eyes like he was seeing something no one else did. Like he has something important he wasn’t saying.

She didn’t stop walking until she was in front of him, pulse ticking at her throat.

He nodded once, jaw tight. “You did well.”

She raised a brow. “You too.”

And he had. His presentation had been earlier that morning — a masterclass in control, precision, charm. Typical Rafe. Everything about it had screamed valedictorian.

He barely reacted to the compliment. “Doesn’t matter.”

That caught her off guard.

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

There was a flicker in his expression then. Hesitation. Like he was weighing whether or not to say something he couldn’t take back.

And then he did. Eyes meeting hers, voice low and unguarded.

“I don’t care about the title anymore,” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

He exhaled sharply, like the words had been sitting on his chest for too long. “Valedictorian. The whole competition. All of it. I don’t care. Not if it means I don’t get to say this.”

She stared, too stunned to speak.

“I like you.” He said it clearly, without flinching. “Have for a while. Thought if I pushed your buttons long enough, it’d wear off. That maybe I’d annoy myself out of it.”

A beat passed. Her heart stuttered.

He kept going, eyes still locked on hers. “But it didn’t. You drive me insane. You get under my skin. But you also make me want to prove myself in a way no grade ever has. You make me sharper. Smarter. Better. And I can’t stand how much I think about you.”

The air in the hallway seemed to still around them.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Not yet.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair — a rare, nervous tell — and shook his head lightly. “And I’m not saying it to screw with you. I’m not expecting anything back. I just…” He paused. His next words were quieter. Real. “I had to say it. Before all this ends and we go off to different schools or different lives and you never know.”

He stepped back, hands in his pockets now, trying for a smile but not quite managing one. It was uneven, crooked — painfully human.

“See you around,” he murmured.

Then he turned and walked off, down the long stretch of corridor, footsteps echoing against the tile floor.

She didn’t move.

She just stood there, still holding the edge of her notecards, heart in her throat, pulse drumming in her ears — because nothing in her carefully-prepared speech had prepared her for that.

After that day, things changed.

He didn’t text.

Didn’t show up to the library, where he used to lean back in his chair like he owned the place, tossing pencils at her when she got too serious.

Didn’t sit in their usual spot in the hallway — the one halfway between their lockers, where they’d spent so many mornings trading barbs and coffee-fueled critiques of each other’s essays.

Rafe Cameron disappeared from her daily orbit like someone had flipped a switch, and she hated how much she noticed. Hated that the absence felt heavier than the tension ever did.

At first, she told herself it was fine. Easier, even. No more distractions. No more sharp-eyed glances across classrooms that made her forget what slide she was on. No more wondering if the teasing meant more than it should.

But she still checked her phone before bed. Still caught herself hesitating when passing the library doors. Still stared too long at that empty patch of wall where he used to lean, arms crossed, smirking like he knew exactly what effect he had on her.

It wasn’t until March that things finally shifted again — with a single sheet of paper taped to the bulletin board outside the counselor’s office.

Class GPA Rankings: Finalized.

She wasn’t sure why her palms were sweating.

She scanned the list once, then again.

And then her breath caught.

Tied.

She barely had time to process the word co-valedictorians blinking back at her from the printed list before a voice, low and unmistakably familiar, broke through the noise of her thoughts.

“Well,” Rafe said, his tone calm but threaded with something gentler than usual — something almost warm. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

She turned slowly.

There he was — leaning against the tiled hallway wall like it hadn’t been months since he last spoke to her. Hands shoved in his pockets, button-down sleeves half-rolled like always, eyes trained on her with an unreadable expression. But this time, his stare wasn’t sharp or challenging. It was quieter. Intent. Like he was searching for something.

“You ghosted me,” she said, her voice low but steady, edged with something sharp she didn’t bother dulling.

“I gave you space,” he replied, calm and careful.

Her eyes narrowed. “For what?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching, not quite a smirk. “For you to figure out if you hated me or not.”

She scoffed, folding her arms. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the girl who called our academic rivalry a ‘tragic abuse of power.’”

“That was accurate,” she said without missing a beat.

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. Not enough to crowd her, but close enough to be felt. The hallway felt smaller somehow, or maybe it was just the gravity of him — the way he always pulled her into his orbit, no matter how much she resisted.

“And yet,” he said, nodding slightly toward the rankings sheet on the wall. “Here we are. Same hallway. Same time. Tied.”

Her heart thudded, annoyingly loud in her chest. “You’re still a pain in the ass.”

“You’re still obsessed with me.”

She gave him a look. “You wish.”

But he didn’t grin like he usually would. No smugness. No cocky tilt of the head. Just a quiet, knowing smile — the kind that hit deeper, like he was seeing something she hadn’t meant to show.

“I know,” he said simply. “You wouldn’t be this mad if you didn’t care.”

And God, she hated that he was right. Because she had cared. She’d noticed the silence. The empty seat in chemistry. The way he stopped looking for her in the hallway between classes. And now, standing here again, it all rushed back — the confusion, the tension, the almosts they’d never named.

“You’re still annoying,” she muttered, but softer this time.

He tilted his head. “You’re still beautiful when you argue.”

That stopped her.

Not because it was smooth — Rafe was always smooth — but because he didn’t say it like a line. He said it like it was true. No teasing lilt. No challenge in his eyes. Just sincerity. Bare and unguarded.

Her breath caught.

“I meant it,” he added, voice quieter now, like the hallway wasn’t real — like this moment was carved out from everything else. “What I told you after the presentation. I like you.”

She blinked.

“I’m not here to compete with you anymore,” he said. “I don’t care if it’s messy, or complicated, or not what either of us planned. I just don’t want to act like this is still about grades or ego or who wins. Not when it’s… this.”

Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might crack her ribs from the inside out. It wasn’t nerves, not exactly — it was the sheer weight of everything she’d been holding back, pressing against her chest all at once.

She stared at him like he wasn’t real. Like she was waiting for him to vanish — for the walls to go back up, for that infuriating smirk to return, for the softness in his eyes to blink out like it had never been there to begin with.

But he didn’t move.

He just stood there, looking at her like she mattered. Like he saw right through every guarded look and deflected comment. And it made her dizzy.

“You’re not supposed to be like this,” she said finally, her voice low, scratchy, like it didn’t quite belong to her.

Rafe tilted his head, brows twitching slightly. “Like what?”

Her throat tightened. “Soft.”

The word came out sharper than she meant it to — bitter around the edges, like it was something to be ashamed of. Like he was breaking the rules just by being kind to her. Because she didn’t know what to do with this version of him.

The one who looked at her like she was the only thing in the room that made sense.

But instead of bristling, he let out a quiet laugh under his breath. The kind that felt more like an exhale than amusement. His eyes didn’t leave hers. “Only for you.”

That shouldn’t have hit her as hard as it did.

And maybe she should’ve hesitated — thought it through, reminded herself why this was a bad idea, listed all the ways this could go wrong.

But all the noise in her head quieted the second she stepped forward.

And kissed him.

It wasn’t perfect — it was a little too fast, a little too forceful, years of tension crammed into a single breath — but it was real. Honest in a way that nothing else had been. Months of stares that lingered too long, conversations that veered too close to something intimate, nights she laid awake wondering if he felt it too — it all crashed into that kiss like a dam finally breaking.

When they parted, just barely, she stayed close enough to feel his breath ghost against her lips.

His mouth curved into a crooked, stupidly smug grin — and God, she hated how good it looked on him. How it made her want to kiss him again just to wipe it off.

“I win,” he said, voice low and unbearably satisfied.

She narrowed her eyes, heartbeat still erratic. “We tied.”

Rafe hummed like he didn’t quite agree, brushing his thumb across her cheek with maddening ease — like touching her was second nature. Like he’d been waiting to do it forever.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to her mouth again, “but I still got the better ending.”

[cheshireliam]

One more thing...

Yes, there are several translators, but this is a difficult job, and it absolutely unpaid. There are people who say they are willing to translate for money, but there are few of them.

And you do it for free in your free time. And you do it the best way as a hobby. It's not a job that has a deadline. So why rush it?

You don't need to compare yourself with others. We discussed this once. The translations made by different people are very different. This doesn't mean that one of them is correct and the others are wrong. The beauty of translation is that each sentence can have many interpretations. There are many ways to paraphrase in both Japanese and English. And everyone who does translation does it on their own. So… as a result, we have not just one story, but several. I really like it…

My point is… do what YOU like. Choose the characters you like, the story you want to translate, and don't worry about the rest.

You have every right to choose. No one has the right to demand anything from you. They didn't pay to demand anything. And do it at your own speed.

If you feel tired of translations, take a break. If you don't want to do this anymore, don't do it. But… don't give it up just because you feel unnecessary. This is not the case at all.

i think that anon i just slammed needs to read this. i'm friends with a handful of the other ikevil fan TL-ers, and all of us have our own ways of writing things e.g. some prefer taking more creative liberties, while some would rather keep the original stuff as much as possible etc. so i honestly don't see any problem in having multiple people/blogs TL-ing the same content.

[ilikekidsshows]

What's the most outdated love square take you still see around and that pisses you off?

For me, the one that really gets under my skin is people still claiming that Adrien/ Cat Noir puts Ladybug on a pedestal and doesn't see her as a real person with flaws and needs.

That's, like... you actively have to ignore all of the last 2 seasons to still think that way. I'm baffled everytime I still see that bs take being thrown around in full confidence.

Adrien/ Cat Noir is the one person this show refuses to spare from every bad side Marinette has. All of Ladynoir is rooted in Ladybug having declared that she'll never ever EVER make an effort or spare him from any of her ugly and selfish moods. He's the last person she would EVER spare from any of that and the show forced Adrien to accept that he deserves such a treatment because Ladybug (and Marinette) always just needs more from him so he was teh one in the wrong and needed to be punished into his place at her feet.

Saying that Adrien never saw Ladybug's flaws doest even check out with season fucking ONE. Origins starts the whole story off with Adrien seeing Ladybug as the insecure screw up she is and it's her willingness to still stand up against evil that he fell for.

Several times in season 1, Cat Noir is already outright acknowledging Ladybug's frustrating flaws, but says that he loves her anyway. Where on EARTH is that Adrien not seeing Ladybug as a person with flaws? That's all she ever was to him.

This bs take already didn't check out in s1-s3 and was merely fanon projecting MARINETTE'S flaws onto Adrien.

But by the time of season 6, that's just delusional nonsense that's been firmly disproven by canon and my best faith assumption is that these people don't actually engage with canon. Or at least not anymore.

It's the same as saying that since Adrien/ Cat Noir rejected Ladybug in s5, that somehow means he never truly loved her and only Marinette's love was ever real (even though Marinette's "love" for Cat Noir left as fast as it came, had her wanting to betray and punish him after he said no one time, where she then genuinely LEFT, and ever since Adrien has given himself to be her owed reward, her "love" for Cat Noir is once again non existence, making it seem like she merely rebounded on him without any shame or self-reflection)

Or same as saying that Adrien never spared Marinette's a single thought before wanting to date her in s5. And that he never cared for her, wrote her off, and took no interest in her as a person.

At this point, have you ever watched the show with open eyes for anything else but Marinette's whining getting validated? Non of that is true. Has never been, but never has it been less true for Adrien than now.

But Marinette on the other hand? Yeah. There these complaints fr still hold up. To various degrees, sure, but when it comes to how she treats Adrien and especially Cat Noir, all of these are valid points of discussion. But SURE, project all of that into Adrien. Who tf even cares about canon anymore? Certainly not Mari stans. Never have and never will.

---

You pretty much covered most of it. A lot of the original “they're both flawed!” takes on the lovesquare are really starting to look like typical Maripologist nonsense in hindsight, because, as you said, most of it is projecting Marinette’s flaws onto Adrien with very little justification to make them look equally in the wrong, when Marinette is, as always, the one with more extreme issues. This is what Maripologists do with every new correct accusation against Marinette; they claim Adrien does it too or is the actual guilty party.

The most egregious part of it, for me, is the take that even as Adrien practically worships Marinette to the degree he never did Ladybug, and him being the one who asked Marinette out, people are still calling him shallow and only interested in Ladybug the superhero while not acknowledging that Marinette the girl exists. Like, this take still being posted to this day, meaning this belief is still alive and well, just proves that the people salting on Adrien hate him on principle, so nothing he does to address their “criticisms” will ever matter. Adrien salters don't want Adrien to improve, they want him to be in the wrong so that they can hate on him or use him as a scapegoat for all of Marinette's issues.

And, in a way, the writers of the show enable this attitude by having Adrien indeed walk back all his flaws while Marinette keeps acting the same way she’s always done. Adrien is the scapegoat to Marinette the golden child. They are meant to be a set, the main couple of the show, the main leads when the showrunners talk to the marketers, but it’s obvious Marinette is being propped up on Adrien’s back.

So much of Marinette’s cushy position in the show and in-universe requires Adrien to be pushed down, meaning fans with a preference for one of these characters are set up to be on opposing sides of the situation the writers created. Anyone who wants good things for Marinette will have to justify why Adrien deserves squat so that Marinette can keep benefiting from her fawning abuse victim boyfriend, while anyone who wants good things for Adrien wants him as far away from Marinette as possible until she stops perpetuating and excusing his literal abuse. Wanting good things for Marinette means wanting Adrien to stay in his pitiful position. Wanting good things for Adrien means wanting things that would make Marinette upset.