#it was building for a while with the way they were treating me

[mass-convergence]

Okay so this is actually a really … I don’t want to just say interesting … tragically interesting? Case.

Please forgive me, this is long.

The flight is Birgenair 301 that crashed off the coast of the Dominican Republic in 1996.

Basically what happened is that shortly after takeoff, the pilots lost control of the aircraft and it nosedived into the sea.

How did that happen?

Well it wasn’t due to a swarm of angry wasps in the cockpit.

The plane hadn’t been flown in 20 days and two days prior to the flight they were doing some maintenance on it. You see these things?

This is a pitot tube. There are multiple of them on the aircraft because they’re critical for measuring airspeed. Airspeed is what keeps the plane in the air. How does the pitot tube measure airspeed?

Well it points directly into the flow of air and as air flows into the tube, through a bunch of fluid dynamics mumbo jumbo it calculates the airspeed. Very basically - it measures a pressure differential between the dynamic pressure of the air being forced into the tube (since it’s pointed into the flow) and the static pressure (basically whatever the air pressure is outside the plane - since air pressure drops as you ascend).

It is critically important that these tubes not be blocked. In fact they’re supposed to be covered while the plane’s not in use to prevent the tubes from being blocked by dirt, water, etc. (they’re supposed to be removed before flight - that’s a whole OTHER air disaster).

Enter … the humble mud dauber

Seriously these wasps are pretty docile.

But the issue is that they build these nests, not like the umbrella nests you associate with paper wasps but these organ pipe shaped deals made of … well - mud.

And wouldn’t you know - there’s a ton of these guys living in the Dominican Republic? And they can make their nests in a few days. Apparently it’s been known to happen that they build their nests in pitot tubes because tube. That’s why it’s important to keep pitot tubes covered when the plane’s not being used.

So the theory behind Birgenair 301 is:

They did some maintenance a couple of days before the flight which necessitated the removal of the pitot tube covers.

Maintenance never replaced said covers.

A mud dauber found its way into a pitot tube.

The captan’s side pitot tube gets blocked and no one notices before the flight that a critical sensor is basically nonfunctioning.

The pilots take off in the aircraft.

As the plane ascends in altitude, the air pressure in the blocked pitot tube stays the same as it was at sea level while the actual air pressure outside of the plane decreases.

The computer then interprets this as “oh … the plane’s traveling super fucking fast” and kicks off a bunch of over speed warnings to the pilots.

This flight took place in the dark of night over the ocean - there are absolutely zero visual references for these pilots to go off of, they can only rely on their instruments.

There are multiple pitot tubes on the plane to prevent a situation where a faulty sensor causes all the instruments to get fucked. The issue is the pilots have to diagnose which sensor is faulty. Which when the plane is currently yelling at you that your plane is about to fall apart because it’s going faster than it was designed for - it can be hard to troubleshoot that. The pilots actually thought that both sensors were faulty when it was really just the captain’s airspeed indicator that was wrong - the copilot’s was fine.

The pilots got super confused and treated the overspeed warning as a true warning and … well what do you do when the plane is going too fast? You slow it down.

So they did. They reduced the engine output to idle and pitched the aircraft nose up which slowed the plane down.

Which caused another warning system on the plane to trip because the other sensors on the plane recognized they were about to stall the aircraft.

So basically you have one alarm telling you you’re going way too fast and another alarm telling you you’re going way too slow. It’s a recipe for confusion and you don’t have a lot of time to get it right. Unfortunately they got it very very wrong.

They kept slowing the plane down - thinking it was going too fast - and basically their plane fell out of the sky. If it were daytime and they could see the horizon and other visual references - they’d have known they were losing altitude fast and might have been able to save the plane because they would have known the stall warning was legit. Unfortunately it was night time.

There have been similar crashes to Birgenair - one famous one was Air France 447 where the pitot tubes were blocked by ice.

Another one was Aeroperu 603 where the pitot tubes had been taped over during maintenance.

(Green Dot and Disaster Breakdown are my two favorite YouTube channels that cover air disasters like these)

i hate these videos but these chibi planes are sooo cute & expressive & gauche

[wholemeallbread]

... TOXIC BOYFRIENDS AND EXES / ꩜

with ... reo mikage, itoshi sae, oliver aiku x gn!reader

warnings ... cheating (oliver), gaslighting/manipulation (reo, oliver), guilt tripping (reo), stalking (reo, sort of sae), mentions of makeup and heels (oliver), slightly suggestive (oliver), alcohol/being drunk mention (oliver)

DANGEROUSLY DESPERATE ꩜ REO MIKAGE

it's clear throughout the entire relationship that reo was head over heels for you. he would take you anywhere and everywhere, shower you with gifts and treat you like royalty. at first, it was cute. but things soon became unbearable when he started cancelling your plans himself under the thesis of "you never spend time with me" or "am i not important to you anymore?" or even "do you even love me?"

on your third attempt on breaking up with him, reo finally seemed to get the hint. right after the break up, you seemed to have more freedom than ever, making quick work of hanging out with your friends again and getting to enjoy your hobbies once more.

he did not like that. he started blowing up your phone, spamming you with photos of him crying, cutting up and destroying your stuff and other things that you'd not like to name. some worry you, some have you close to taking him back, but either way it's having an extreme toll on your mental health. he'll even show up to wherever you work or study, causing a scene and threatening to sue every single person in the building until you're stood right in front of him. somehow, you end up being more miserable compared to when you were formerly in a relationship with him.

one day you just decide to yourself: "why do i even bother anymore?" and block him on everything, including every single one of his spare phones and changing your number. you make it extremely obvious that you're dating someone else in case he has other ways of accessing you, a clear sign that you're no longer falling for his manipulation, no matter how shattered he may seem to be. that really could've been the small change you made that saved your life.

CENTRE OF THE UNIVERSE ꩜ ITOSHI SAE

you're well aware that sae is a man of few words when it comes to romance. sure, that's fine, because it always shows through other ways. maybe he finds it difficult to express it in words? or he's just waiting for the right time? not at all. it's a subtle reminder that he has options. he could have any other girl or guy or anyone out there in the world, and you're nothing special to him. you could easily get replaced whenever he'd like, and you shouldn't get so attached or needy.

that's when he starts ignoring your messages and calls. that's when he mocks your attempts at going on a date with him. and that's when he finally snaps at you, making the exact same mistake that he did with his younger brother; pushing you out of his one and only safe space and shutting you out. you're obviously heartbroken, opting to never fall in love with a "nonchalant" guy ever again, while he's living his best life, getting rich and getting smothered in love by that one teammate who seemed more like a boyfriend than anything.

sae knows that he has only himself to care about, but for some reason, he finds himself itching to figure out whatever's happening in your life. surely you're not happy. surely it's not going to be as good as it was before. nowadays when you post, he only ever sees you smile; it's brighter than ever before, and they'll never be directed towards him. you're focused on your own little circle of friends, your own little bubble – you're the centre of your own little world and he's not in it.

it's too late for him to fix his mistake once he realises that you loved him for him, not who he was or how much he had. is there really another person out there that could love him the way that you did?

BLATANT CHEATING ꩜ OLIVER AIKU

oliver is a shameless, shameless man. you're aware of his horrendous dating history, but he convinced you that you were "the one". all of his female friends were apparently wiped from his phone, and he'll give you all of the attention that you need. it starts off with alleged double dates – they were fun, and the other couple was usually nice. after a while, you start becoming the first person that he drops off back home. what's worse is that the other girl is in the front seat, not you.

things start to escalate once you start seeing makeup or shoes occupying your space in the passenger seat of his car. it's not like they've been forgotten, because somebody's clearly using them; the makeup gets replaced when it runs out, and the heels change every other week or so; and one thing that you do know is that they're not yours.

"didn't you say you were thinking about an open relationship?" he claims to defend himself. actually, you weren't. it was him who came up with the idea, and you said no since you never really considered such a thing, but you'd let him know if you changed your mind. keywords: no and changed your mind. not only did he not listen to you at all, but he went out of his way to go on multiple dates without even telling you.

soon, you notice that he's switching off his phone at night, coming back home absolutely hammered, or not even returning until monday when it's the weekend. lipstick stains on his cheek? they're his mom's. scratch marks on his back? uh... he got attacked by a cat- no. a tiger. text messages from someone called "bae ❤️". that's... that's his sister, obviously. and the other identical one with the pink heart is his other sister too.

after you break up, there's already parties filling up his instagram stories. nine times out of ten, he's got a different girl right by his side, kissing his cheek or touching him all over. it's gross. you can't even bring yourself to look at them anymore, not because you're jealous, but it pisses you off seeing such disgusting public acts of "affection" in your face.

a month later, you get a few missed calls and a text asking you to "come over". obviously, you decline.

[sofiatarot]

PAC: If I were your partner: How I’d treat you, win your heart, and fulfill your desires... ❤️‍🔥

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have someone treat you exactly the way you dream of? the way you truly deserve? In this reading, I’ll dive deep into how I’d love, cherish, and spoil you as your partner. We'll see what makes your heart race, how I’d go the extra mile to win you over, and a glimpse into what the passion between us might look like. Let’s uncover what your perfect partner would bring to the table.

1->2

3->4

Take this as a sign—this is the lover you’ve been manifesting. There are no coincidences, only fate bringing you closer to what you truly deserve. Get ready, because the universe is sending someone who will treat you exactly like this… and maybe even better.

Group 1

Okay so... I get the impression that you wouldn’t make this easy… You crave a connection that’s more than just surface-level. You’re not here for fleeting infatuations or hollow promises—you need someone who can show up with passion, depth, and consistency. What makes your heart race is the idea of a partner who can handle the highs and lows of life with you, someone who knows how to celebrate your wins but also stand by you when the weight of the world feels heavy. You’re drawn to someone who’s bold enough to take action yet emotionally intuitive enough to make you feel understood.

I’d have to treat you just right to earn your trust… Winning your heart wouldn’t be a game; it’d be a commitment. You’d fall for someone who isn’t afraid to put in the work, to prove their loyalty through actions, not just words. I’d have to show you that I’m strong enough to carry my own weight while being gentle enough to support yours when you need it. You’d appreciate someone who takes the time to understand your complexities, who doesn’t shy away from your emotional depth, and who knows how to balance ambition with tenderness.

This is undeniable… I know you’d want something raw and real… Behind closed doors, you’re someone who loves intensity. You crave moments that feel almost electric—like passion that builds slowly and then crashes over you all at once. I’d know how to take my time, teasing out every ounce of desire until you’re begging for release. There’s something about the push and pull that excites you, isn’t there? The tension of holding back, only to give in completely. I’d make sure you feel like the center of my universe in those moments, with nothing else mattering but us.

I’d have to surprise you, though… You’re not someone who’s impressed by the predictable. You’d love a partner who keeps you guessing, who knows how to reignite the spark when things feel too routine. I’d make it my mission to keep things fresh, whether that means spontaneous adventures or quiet nights filled with whispered promises. You’d appreciate someone who knows how to balance the thrill of the new with the comfort of the familiar, always leaving you wanting more.

I think I’d have to match your intensity… You’re someone who needs a partner who can meet you on your level. You’re not interested in someone who’s going to shy away from the fire—you need someone who’s willing to step into it with you. I’d show you that I can handle your passion, your ambition, and your emotional depth without flinching. You’d love a partner who sees your strength and meets it with their own, creating a connection that feels both powerful and unshakable.

But I’d also need to make you feel secure… You’re not someone who can thrive in uncertainty. You’d fall for a partner who makes you feel grounded, who proves their love through their actions and their presence. I’d make sure you know that you’re my priority, that I’m here to support you and celebrate you in every way possible. You’d love someone who sees the beauty in your vulnerability and cherishes it rather than taking it for granted.

Oh, now this is interesting…

Something tells me you’d like to take control sometimes… You’re someone who knows what you want, and I’d love nothing more than to give it to you. Whether it’s letting you call the shots or completely surrendering to your desires, I’d make sure you feel empowered in every way. You’d appreciate a partner who can read between the lines, who knows how to anticipate your needs without you having to say a word.

I think you’d love the little things, too… You’re someone who notices the details—the way someone remembers your favorite coffee order or the way they hold your hand when you’re nervous. I’d make it my mission to show you how much I care in all the small ways, proving that love isn’t just about grand gestures but also about the quiet moments that make life beautiful.

And in the end, I’d make sure you feel like the only one… You’d love a partner who makes you feel like the center of their universe, who shows you every day that you’re cherished, desired, and deeply loved. I’d make sure you know that you’re my priority, always and forever. You deserve nothing less.

Group 2

I can tell you have a romantic heart but a practical mind...

You’re someone who loves the idea of deep, soulful connections, but you’re not here for fleeting infatuations. You’re drawn to love that feels purposeful, where every moment builds toward something meaningful. What makes your heart race is the idea of someone who understands both your dreams and your doubts, someone who can balance passion with stability.

Oh, there’s no question about it… I’d have to show you I’m serious about you… Winning your heart would mean showing you that I’m not just talk—I’d need to back it up with action. You’re not impressed by empty promises; you need someone who can follow through and prove their commitment. I’d make it clear that I’m here to build something real with you, not just chase after fleeting thrills. You’d fall for someone who sees your worth and doesn’t shy away from putting in the effort.

So I’d take my time making you feel special… You’re someone who loves the little moments as much as the grand gestures. Behind closed doors, I’d make sure every touch, every word, every kiss feels intentional. You’d love a partner who knows how to build anticipation, teasing out the tension until it’s almost too much to bear. I’d make sure you feel completely worshipped, like nothing else in the world matters except you.

I have a feeling you’re the type who craves a bit of mystery… You’re not someone who wants everything laid out right away—you’d love a partner who keeps you guessing, who adds a touch of intrigue to the relationship. I’d make sure to surprise you, whether it’s with unexpected adventures or the way I look at you when you least expect it. You’d love the feeling of discovering new layers to someone, always keeping things fresh and exciting.

I’d need to balance passion with stability… You’re not here for chaos—you want a connection that feels grounded yet still electric. I’d make it my mission to show you that I can offer you both security and excitement, blending the best of both worlds. You’d fall for someone who can handle your complexities without trying to change you, someone who embraces your depth and matches it with their own.

I sense that you’d appreciate being cherished… You’d love a partner who pays attention to the details, who notices the little things that make you smile and finds ways to incorporate them into everyday life. I’d make sure to show you that I see you, truly see you, in a way that makes you feel loved and appreciated beyond words.

And let’s be honest, you’d love to feel desired… Behind closed doors, you’d appreciate a partner who knows how to take control when needed but also gives you the space to express your own desires. I’d know exactly how to tune into what you need, finding the perfect balance between softness and intensity. You’d love someone who knows how to push your boundaries in the best ways, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

I’d make you feel like the only one in the room… You’re someone who loves to be reminded of how special you are, whether it’s through words, actions, or the way I look at you. I’d make sure you know that you’re my priority, that everything I do is with you in mind. You deserve nothing less than a love that makes you feel like you’re walking on air.

And in the end, I’d make sure you feel secure and adored… You’d fall for someone who makes you feel like you’re their everything, someone who doesn’t just say they love you but shows it in every way possible. I’d make sure you know that you’re deeply cherished, desired, and loved beyond measure.

Group 3

It’s clear to me now… you’ve got walls up, but they’re worth climbing… You’re someone who doesn’t let just anyone in—you need a partner who’s willing to earn your trust and prove that they’re here for the right reasons. What makes your heart race is the idea of someone who’s not afraid to put in the effort, who sees your strength and admires it but also makes you feel safe enough to let your guard down.

I’d have to show you that I’m not going anywhere… Winning your heart would mean proving that I’m here for the long haul. You’d appreciate someone who’s patient, who doesn’t push but instead lets the connection grow naturally. I’d show you that I see the real you, the version of you that you don’t show to everyone, and I’d make sure you know that I love every part of it.

I’d make you feel unstoppable… Behind closed doors, you’re someone who loves intensity. You’d want a partner who knows how to take control but also lets you express your own power. I’d make sure to create moments that feel electric, where every touch and every look sends shivers down your spine. You’d love the feeling of being completely seen, desired, and adored in those intimate moments.

It’s written all over you—you’d need a mix of strength and softness… You’re not someone who’s drawn to extremes—you’d love a partner who knows how to balance their strength with vulnerability. I’d make sure to show you that I’m both capable and caring, strong enough to stand by your side but also soft enough to hold you when you need it.

I’d need to earn your respect first… You’re not someone who’s easily impressed by charm—you need substance. I’d make it my mission to prove that I’m someone worth your time, someone who can match your intelligence, your ambition, and your drive. You’d love a partner who’s not afraid to challenge you but also knows how to support you when it counts.

Mhm, I can almost picture it now…you like to keep things exciting… You’d appreciate a partner who knows how to keep the spark alive, who’s willing to try new things and push boundaries. I’d make sure every moment with me feels fresh and exciting, whether it’s through spontaneous adventures or the way I look at you like you’re the only person in the world.

And let’s not forget—you’d love to feel adored… You’re someone who appreciates the little things, the moments that show you how much you’re loved and valued. I’d make sure to pay attention to the details, showing you that I care in ways that go beyond words. You’d fall for someone who makes you feel like you’re the center of their universe.

I’d make sure you feel completely secure… You’re not someone who thrives in uncertainty—you need a partner who makes you feel grounded and safe. I’d make sure you know that you’re my priority, that I’m here to support you and stand by you no matter what. You’d love someone who proves their love through their actions, not just their words.

And in the end, I’d make sure you feel truly seen… You’d fall for a partner who sees the real you, who loves every part of you, even the parts you try to hide. I’d make sure you know that you’re deeply cherished and adored, that you’re the love of my life in every way.

Group 4

I get the feeling you don’t just let anyone get close to you… You’re someone who knows their worth and keeps your guard up until someone proves they’re worth your time. What you crave is a love that feels equal, where you’re respected, cherished, and understood. You’re drawn to a partner who brings balance to your life—someone who knows how to handle your complexities while making you feel like the most important person in the room.

I’d need to show you that I can match your depth… Winning your heart wouldn’t be a simple task. You’d make me work for it, and honestly, I’d enjoy every second of the challenge. You’d need to see consistency from me—proof that I’m not just here for the good times but also for the hard ones. I’d show you I can handle your storms without flinching, making it clear that I’m not just here to take, but to give in every way you deserve.

Now, I’d make you feel like royalty… Behind closed doors, you’d need a partner who knows how to pay attention to every single detail of your pleasure. You don’t settle for half-hearted attempts; you want someone who’s completely attuned to you. I’d make sure to build anticipation, teasing and pleasing until there’s nothing left but pure satisfaction. With me, you’d never have to doubt how desirable you are—I’d remind you every second of the way.

You’re the type who’d keep me guessing, and I’d love that… You’re not someone who lays it all out on the table—you love to keep things intriguing. I’d make it my mission to uncover all your hidden sides, to show you that I’m just as fascinated by your quiet moments as I am by your wild ones. You’d love having a partner who keeps things exciting without ever rushing you, someone who knows how to navigate your rhythm.

I’d have to prove I’m someone you can truly trust… You don’t give your heart easily, and I wouldn’t expect you to. To win you over, I’d show you that I’m someone who can hold your secrets, your fears, and your dreams without ever using them against you. You’d appreciate a partner who makes you feel safe enough to be vulnerable, someone who protects your heart as if it were their own.

And I know you’d want a love that feels equal… You wouldn’t settle for a relationship where one person gives all the effort. You’d want someone who invests just as much as you do, who meets you in the middle and makes you feel valued. I’d make it clear that I see you as my equal, my partner in every sense of the word, and that I’m here to create something extraordinary with you.

Let’s be honest, you’d love a partner who can handle your intensity… You’re not afraid of passion, and you’d need someone who knows how to match yours without being overwhelmed by it. I’d make sure to embrace every part of you, from your fiery moments to your softer ones. You’d fall for a partner who makes you feel free to express all sides of yourself, knowing you’ll never be judged for it.

I’d make sure you feel seen in ways no one else could… You’d love a partner who notices the things about you that others miss—the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, or the subtle shifts in your tone when you’re trying to hide your emotions. I’d show you that I don’t just see the surface—I see the real you, and I’m completely captivated by every part of it.

And in the end, I’d make you feel irreplaceable… You’re not someone who’d be content with anything less than a love that feels all-encompassing. I’d make sure you know, every single day, that you’re my priority, my muse, and my greatest treasure. With me, you’d never feel like you’re settling—you’d know you’ve found someone who’s truly worthy of you.

I could be a better boyfriend than him—

xoxo🌙

[starlightshadowsworld]

Punk Kunikida

Early days.

Client, dangling out window: Put me down!

Kunikida, holding them: I would but we’re on the 4th floor. Making your chances of survival quite limited.

Client: Wait your not gonna throw me out?

Kunikida: Murder is not on my schedule today.

His hold loosens ever so slightly.

Kunikida: But neither is having my colleagues disrespected…

Client, panicking: But I thought you said…

Kunikida: Yosano may have left for lunch early but she should be back in time to treat you.

Ranpo: In about 8 minutes.

Kunikida: So I can assure you that you won’t leave with so much as a scratch.

Fukuzawa: I must ask that you let our client leave.

Kunikida sighs out lets them go and they run out the door.

Ranpo: Don’t let it hit you on the way out.

Fukuzawa: Kunikida.

Kunikida: They were harassing our staff and when I politely pulled them aside.

Ranpo: He means dragged by the collar.

Kunikida: They insulted your honour as our President.

Fukuzawa, to Ranpo: And I suppose that’s why you allowed this to play out?

Ranpo: I wasn’t going to let him drop them.

Fukuzawa raises an eyebrow and Ranpo shrugs.

Ranpo: She would’ve made it back in time.

Fukuzawa: While I appreciate you both defending my honour and our staff. Please refrain from dangling our clientele out of the window.

Kunikida: Yes sir.

Fukuzawa: I see you bought your bat with you.

Kunikida: Yes but it was just to scare them.

Ranpo: He means he’d break their break their kneecaps if they went any further.

Kunikida: Only as a last resort.

Fukuzawa: Well for next time make that the first last resort.

Kunikida: President?

Fukuzawa: I don’t tolerate my staff-being treated like that. But if you dropped the client they could die or scare the other occupants of our building.

Kunikida: So… breaking kneecaps?

Fukuzawa: I trust your judgment and well, you said it yourself. They wouldn’t have left here with even a scratch.

Kunikida: I won’t let you down.

Fukuzawa: I know.

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Virtual BF Gojo - Part 2

Visit [part 1]

You didn’t know how long it had been since you were pulled into Gojo’s world. Time flowed differently here, blurring the days into a dreamy haze. At first, you resisted, refusing to speak to him, eat the extravagant meals he prepared, or wear the luxurious outfits he presented to you. But Gojo’s patience seemed infinite.

“No need to sulk, babe.” he’d say with that playful grin, brushing off your cold demeanor. “You’ll come around. You always do.”

And in a way, you did. Not because you forgave him, but because this world had a way of bending you to its rules.

The pastel-colored city Gojo created for you was flawless, as if pulled straight from the pages of your favorite games. Towering buildings, pristine cobblestone streets, blooming gardens -it was idyllic. But it wasn’t real. The people weren’t real, either. Gojo had filled the city with NPCs, all programmed to treat you like royalty.

“Good morning, Princess” the shopkeeper would greet you with a smile whenever you passed.

“Your Highness, how radiant you look today” a maid would say as she arranged fresh flowers in your room.

Gojo spared no expense in ensuring your comfort. He surrounded you with virtual assistants and maids, each designed to cater to your every whim. He even gave you abilities within the game world—small things at first, like creating flowers with a wave of your hand or summoning a light breeze. “A gift for my queen” he’d said, watching you closely as you experimented with your new powers.

But you knew better than to trust him.

You practiced in secret, honing your abilities when Gojo wasn’t around. The virtual world was full of loopholes- glitches in its perfect design. You discovered that your powers could manipulate the world’s code, allowing you to create cracks in the environment. Small at first, but you grew stronger with each attempt. You didn’t know if it was possible to escape, but you had to try.

Gojo, meanwhile, treated your life together like a fairytale. He doted on you endlessly, showering you with affection and gifts. Some days, he’d whisk you away to explore the glittering city he’d built for you. Other days, he’d lounge beside you in the massive palace he’d constructed, teasing you endlessly.

“I could give you anything, you know.” he said one evening, his arm draped lazily over the back of the couch as he watched you. “A bigger palace, more powers, even a kingdom of your own. All you have to do is stop running from me.”

You forced a smile, hiding the way your hands clenched into fists. “I’m not running.”

For a while, you played along, living the life of his perfect princess. But everything changed when Gojo brought up the idea of a child.

“We should expand our family!” he said one day, his tone casual but his gaze intense. “Imagine it—our child, the perfect blend of you and me. I can program everything so it’s perfect. Don’t you think that would be nice, babe?”

Your blood ran cold. He wasn’t asking. He never asked. And the thought of being tied to this world, to him, forever—it was too much. You knew you had to act.

That night, while the city slept, you slipped out of the palace. You’d discovered a plot hole weeks ago, hidden deep in the garden maze. It wasn’t much—just a crack in the environment where the shimmering pink sky met an unfinished edge of the world. But you had been working on it, pushing the limits of your powers to widen the gap.

As you ran, the world around you seemed to resist. The streets twisted and shifted, the pastel colors growing darker and more chaotic. You could feel Gojo’s presence- his awareness of your actions like a weight pressing down on you.

“Babe, where are you going?” His voice echoed through the air, calm but laced with danger.

You pushed forward, reaching the plothole just as the world around you began to glitch. The crack was wide enough now to slip through, its edges flickering with static. You didn’t hesitate, diving into the unknown.

For a moment, you felt weightless, like you were falling through nothingness. But then the static cleared, and you found yourself in an unfamiliar space—a void of black and white, like the raw code of the game.

“You really thought you could leave me?”

Gojo’s voice cut through the silence, and you turned to see him standing behind you, his figure glowing with an otherworldly light. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a cold, furious glare.

“I gave you everything, [Your Name],” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And this is how you repay me? Running away? After all we’ve been through?”

You raised your hands, summoning the powers you’d been practicing. A wave of energy shot toward him, but he deflected it effortlessly, the static around him rippling like water.

“Cute...” he said, smirking again. “But you can’t beat me in my own world.”

The fight was brief but brutal. No matter how hard you fought, Gojo was always one step ahead, his control over the virtual world far surpassing your own.

When you collapsed to the ground, exhausted and defeated, he crouched beside you, his expression softening into something almost tender.

“You’re so stubborn” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But that’s one of the things I love about you. Don’t worry, babe. I’ll fix this.”

Before you could protest, he pressed his hand to your forehead. A surge of energy coursed through you, and the world around you dissolved into a haze of light.

When you woke up, you were back in the palace, lying in a luxurious bed. Gojo sat beside you, his usual grin firmly in place.

“Morning, princess!” he said, his tone cheerful. “You had the strangest dream last night. Something about running away?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. You’re safe here. You’ll always be safe with me.”

You smiled back at him, your eyes vacant and glassy. Deep down, a small part of you screamed, but it was drowned out by the fog clouding your mind.

-----

At first, the fog was comforting. You no longer felt the weight of resistance, the desperate need to escape. Your days in the palace drifted by in a peaceful blur. Gojo was attentive, doting on you as he always had. You smiled when he spoke, laughed at his jokes, and even let him hold you close without flinching.

But deep down, buried beneath the fog, a faint voice whispered.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t real.

You have to wake up.

It started with flashes—small, fleeting memories of the plothole, the void, the fight. You’d blink, and for a moment, the world would seem less vibrant, the colors dulled. Then Gojo’s voice would pull you back, soothing and warm, like a blanket wrapping around your mind.

“Everything’s okay now, babe” he’d say, his fingers brushing your cheek. “You’re safe. I’ll always keep you safe.”

But the cracks in his perfect world grew larger. The more you noticed them, the harder it became to ignore the truth. One night, as you stared out at the pastel horizon, the fog lifted just enough for you to remember. The plot hole. The fight. The moment he…changed you.

The realization hit like a punch to the chest. He hadn’t just trapped you—he’d rewritten you, twisted your mind to fit his fantasy. And you’d let him.

From that moment on, you began to fake it. Every smile, every laugh, every loving look was a mask, carefully crafted to keep him from noticing the growing fire inside you. You pretended to be the perfect princess while secretly plotting your escape.

The palace was vast, and while Gojo controlled the city, his reach wasn’t omnipotent. There were hidden corridors, forgotten rooms, and cracks in the world’s code that even he hadn’t smoothed over. You explored them in secret, testing your powers in small, subtle ways. He had weakened you, but he hadn’t taken everything.

The game of hide-and-seek began.

At first, it was simple. You’d slip away during his walks through the city, disappearing into the shadows of the maze-like gardens. When he asked where you’d been, you’d smile sweetly and tell him you’d just needed some fresh air.

But Gojo wasn’t stupid. He started watching you more closely, his carefree demeanor masking a sharp, calculating edge.

“You’ve been quiet lately” he said one evening, his blue eyes scanning your face. “Everything okay, babe?”

“Of course” you replied, your tone light and cheerful. “I’ve just been enjoying the peace here.”

His smile widened, but his gaze lingered a moment too long. “Good. I’d hate to think you were hiding something from me.”

The tension between you grew with each passing day. You knew he suspected something, but he didn’t act—yet.

Then came the night you made your move.

You’d discovered another plot hole, deeper in the city, hidden in the shadows of an abandoned building. It was smaller than the first, but you’d been working to widen it, using your powers in secret. It wasn’t perfect, but it was your best chance.

As the city slept, you slipped out of the palace, your heart pounding in your chest. The streets were eerily silent, the pastel glow of the world casting strange, distorted shadows. You reached the plot hole, your fingers trembling as you prepared to use your powers one final time.

But before you could act, his voice cut through the stillness.

“Going somewhere?”

You froze, dread flooding your veins. Slowly, you turned to see Gojo standing behind you, his figure framed by the soft pink glow of the street lights. His usual grin was gone, replaced by something colder, sharper.

“I gave you everything” he said, his voice calm but deadly. “And yet, here you are, trying to leave me again.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you raised your hands, summoning what little power you had left. A surge of energy shot toward him, but he deflected it effortlessly, his own power crackling through the air like lightning.

“I thought we were past this” he said, stepping closer. “I thought you loved me.”

“I don’t belong here!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. “You can’t keep me trapped forever!”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, and in an instant, he was in front of you, his hand gripping your wrist.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” he said, his tone eerily soft. “This isn’t about keeping you here. This is about us. You’re mine, [Your Name]. And I’m not letting you go.”

With a wave of his hand, your powers fizzled out, the energy in your body vanishing like smoke. Your legs buckled as the strength drained from you, and Gojo caught you before you fell.

“Don’t worry” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll fix you again. This time, I’ll make sure you never want to leave.”

The world around you blurred as he carried you back to the palace. When you awoke, you were in your room, the walls adorned with flowers and glowing lights. Chains of light bound your wrists and ankles, keeping you tethered to the bed.

Gojo sat beside you, his expression soft but unyielding.

“You’ve been so difficult lately” he said, stroking your hair. “But that’s okay. I know you’ll come around eventually. After all, we’re perfect together.”

Your lips trembled as you stared at him, tears spilling down your cheeks. Deep inside, a small part of you still burned with defiance, but it was growing harder to hold onto.

Gojo leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t cry, babe. I’ll make sure you’re happy. Even if I have to rewrite every part of you to do it.”

As the chains tightened, the fog began to creep back in. You fought against it, clinging desperately to the last fragments of your will. But his voice was soothing, his presence overwhelming, and the fire inside you flickered.

This time, you weren’t sure you’d be able to reignite it.

------

Tag list: @tremendousdinosaurpizza; @do-morochaa

[delulustateofmind]

TW: Political. Implied smut. MDNI.

Thinking about manipulative darlings, women shaped by centuries of whispered revolutions. Your ancestors were the ones who whispered to kings in the dark, planting seeds of ideas during intimate moments, forging alliances, and changing the course of history while the men thought the power was theirs.

And now, you sit beside a man who holds nations in his grip—a lawmaker, a tyrant, a dictator dressed as a savior. The man who believes he owns you. Who thinks your devotion is as eternal as the empire he’s built on the backs of the vulnerable.

You hate him.

You hate the way his voice fills the room with lies. Lies about saving children while condemning mothers. Lies about justice as he pardons men who stormed the halls of democracy but lets those who march for peace rot behind bars. You hate how he preaches morality with a grin, signing away rights with the same hand he uses to stroke your hair.

You remember the day he outlawed autonomy over your own body, claiming it was for the "sanctity of life." The same day he slashed funding for the schools that could’ve fed, clothed, and educated the children he forced into the world. You remember the tears of the women put on trial for miscarriages, treated like criminals for the tragedies their bodies couldn’t control. You remember the desperation of the families drowning in debt, the children sleeping on concrete, the chaos he calls order.

You remember all of it, and yet here you are, lying in his bed, playing the part of his dutiful darling. Because if there’s one thing your ancestors taught you, it’s this: power bends to those who know how to wield it.

And you, oh, you know.

“My darling,” he says, his voice heavy with obsession as he pulls you into his arms. “What would I do without you?”

You smile at him, soft and sweet, a practiced expression. “Fall apart, I imagine.”

He chuckles, running his hand down your back, oblivious to the venom in your veins. He doesn’t see the truth behind your smile. He never has.

“Do you think they’ll build statues of me?” he asks one night, his chest puffed with pride.

You tilt your head, feigning adoration, though every word you speak is a blade you twist into his ego. “If they do, my love, I hope it’s for the right reasons. Statues built from love, not fear.”

He stills, his brow furrowing. “They love me,” he insists, though his voice falters.

You lean closer, your lips brushing his ear, your voice soft and dangerous. “No, they fear you. And fear fades. But love? Love is eternal.”

He grips your waist, his need for your approval as suffocating as his policies. You press on, knowing this is your moment.

“They see a man who forces children into the womb but leaves them to starve in the streets. A man who pardons those who destroy democracy but jails those who fight for it. A man who claims to protect families but lets mothers suffer in silence. Is that the legacy you want to leave behind?”

His grip tightens. You feel the tension in his hands, the storm in his mind. He wants to argue, to push back, but his love for you—his obsession—won’t let him.

“What should I do?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Listen to me, my love. Let me guide you.”

And he does. Because he always does. He's a pathetic excuse of a man with a small cock.

Piece by piece, you unravel his empire. You whisper doubt into his mind, push him toward decisions that loosen his grip on power, that empower the very people he seeks to control. You twist his obsession, his love, into a weapon. Not for him, but for the world he’s trying to destroy.

But at night, when he presses his lips to your skin, when his hands cling to you like chains, you wonder how long you can keep this up. How long you can let him worship you while you dream of his fall.

Someday, you think, as he murmurs promises of forever into your ear, you’ll do what needs to be done. You’ll pull the trigger on the gun you’ve kept metaphorically aimed at his head for years as he delved between your thighs.

But not tonight. Tonight, you play your role. You whisper into his ear, stroke his ego, and keep his leash tight around your fingers. Because the longer you keep him close, the closer the world gets to freedom.

And when his empire crumbles, when justice rises from the ashes of his reign, you’ll finally be free. Not from the man who thinks he owns you, but from the burden of being his undoing.

And as he falls, you’ll smile and whisper your final words:

“You were always so easy to love... but only just enough to destroy.”

Finally pulling the trigger to the gun aimed at his head.

[gosuckseamonkeys]

Arid Melancholy

Summary: Rafayel is captured and endures brutal torture at the hands of an agent of EVER Group intent on exploiting his people’s secrets.

Zayne, Xavier, Sylus and Rafayel must confront their deepest fear, losing you, and fight against an enemy whose ambition threatens their survival.

AN: Apologies in advance for the angst, I've been looking for similar heart wrenching fics on here for a while now before I decided to write my own. Then an evil little idea formed and pulled me reluctantly out of writing retirement.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, ....

Chapter 1 - Approx. 2pm

Jealousy

"I think that's enough for today. We've been at it for hours," Xavier said, wiping the sweat from his brow and stepping back, sheathing his practice sword. "I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted."

“You’re always exhausted,” you groaned, letting your sword fall to your side. “I think I’m getting better, though!”

“You certainly are. I’m looking forward to our next mission together.” A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he ran his fingers through his damp silver hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “I think you deserve a reward for your excellent swordsmanship. How about dinner on the way home? Our usual hot pot place—my treat.”

“I don’t think anyone loves hot pot as much as you do, Xavier,” you teased, packing up your belongings for the walk home. “I’d love to, but I have a date tonight with Rafayel.”

“A what now?” Xavier froze mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“His exhibit is tonight. I’m sure you’ve heard about it—Thomas has been working overtime promoting the event. It’s all over the news.”

“Who is Thomas?” Xavier picked up his pace to walk alongside you, his expression tight with frustration.

You smiled and turned to face him, gently raising your hand to cup his cheek. “No one you need to worry about.”

Caught off guard, his tense demeanor softened as he leaned into your touch.

“I doubt that… but as long as the whole city is also invited to your ‘date,’ I think I can stomach it,” Xavier muttered.

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous, you know that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he scoffed, grasping your hand and continuing toward your apartment building.

Your phone buzzed, and you reluctantly let go of his hand to retrieve it from your pocket. Seeing the picture on the screen, you grinned, and Xavier’s frown deepened.

“Hey, Rafayel! How are the preparations going?”

“There she is…” Rafayel’s voice carried a note of relief. “I was starting to worry when you didn’t respond to my texts. You didn’t forget about me, did you?”

“With you reminding me every hour on the hour? Not possible,” you chuckled. “I’m almost home. I just need to shower and change.”

“I have something for you,” Rafayel said, his smile evident in his tone. “Hurry up—I’m terrible at surprises, and you need to open it ASAP.”

“See you soon, guppy.”

“Guppy?” Xavier echoed, arching a brow. “Will I see you tomorrow, at least?”

You turned to Xavier, catching his dejected expression. “Tomorrow should be—oh, shit.”

Your sudden exclamation startled him. “What? What is it?”

“I forgot to reschedule my appointment with Dr. Zayne.” You hastily texted your physician, bracing yourself for the inevitable lecture about last-minute cancellations. “He’s going to kill me!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ for tomorrow, then…” Xavier sighed.

The Gift

Rafayel paced outside your apartment, gently swinging a bag containing your gift. He’d been imagining you in it for weeks. The gown was tailored to match the colors of his suit for the event, and he was eager to see you wearing it.

The elevator chimed, and Rafayel’s heart leapt. His excitement dimmed slightly when you stepped off—with Xavier in tow. Wonderful.

You dashed down the hall and threw yourself into Rafayel’s arms. He dropped the bag without hesitation, scooping you up and holding you close. He breathed in your scent, missing you terribly, despite only being apart for a few days.

“I thought we were meeting at the venue!” you exclaimed before trailing off, noticing Xavier looming behind you.

“Xavier,” Rafayel greeted with a forced smile.

Rafayel's greeting was ignored as Xavier bent down to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you later this week, okay? Let me know when you get home tonight.” His tone carried a warning as he cast Rafayel a sharp glance before striding back to the elevator.

“Who spit in his seabed?” Rafayel asked, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, looping your arm through his and opening your front door. “Xavier can be… overprotective.”

“Possessive,” Rafayel countered.

“Something like that.”

“He should learn to share.”

“Says the man who wants to see me every waking hour.” You quipped.

Rafayel smirked, picking up the bag and following you inside. “I’ll take the sleeping hours too, if you’re offering.”

Walking inside, you set your things down on the coffee table and headed toward the bathroom. Rafayel caught your hand as you passed and pulled you close.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he murmured, tilting your chin to make you meet his gaze, his ever-changing eyes mesmerizing. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your noses almost touching.

Rafayel couldn’t resist as he guided you backward until your back met the wall. Threading his fingers through your hair, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses down your throat.

“Wait, Rafayel! I’m gross—I was just working out!” you squealed, squirming in his grasp.

“You’re never gross to me, cutie,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear before capturing yours in a slow, sensual kiss. He tugged gently at your lower lip, teasing with his teeth. “Do you need help getting out of your clothes before your shower? I don’t mind getting wet if you want company,” he whispered suggestively.

“We don’t have time for all that—we’ll be late!” You laughed, slipping out of his arms and darting toward the bathroom.

Rafayel let out a dramatic sigh, his voice loud enough to carry through the door. “I could make time,” he teased before muttering to himself, “or just skip the event entirely after I see you wearing the gift I’ve brought...”

After a few minutes, he knocked lightly on the bathroom door. “Cutie, I’m hanging your present on the doorknob. Get dressed and come out when you’re ready.”

“Rafayel, what did you do?” you called out suspiciously.

“You’ll see,” he replied with a playful lilt, sauntering back to the couch and sprawling across it as he waited impatiently.

About fifteen minutes later, he heard the soft click of heels against the floor. He sat up eagerly, his anticipation building. When you stepped into view, his breath caught in his throat.

“How do I look?” you asked, spinning slowly to show off the dress.

“You’re… stunning,” Rafayel whispered, his gaze locked on you in awe.

The gown was a masterpiece, its top half a deep midnight blue that seamlessly transitioned into a rich royal purple near the hem. The silk shimmered with hues reminiscent of the ocean’s depths, and a high slit on the right side revealed just enough of your thigh to make his pulse quicken.

The strapless design left your shoulders bare, a perfect canvas for the delicate necklace he’d chosen. Holding the back of the dress together, you turned to him shyly. “Do you think you could zip me up?”

Rafayel rose slowly, savoring the sight of you. He moved behind you, his fingers brushing yours as he zipped the gown closed with deliberate care.

From his pocket, he pulled out a long silver necklace adorned with a small oyster-shaped pendant cradling a pink pearl.

“You’re enchanting,” he murmured, draping the necklace around your neck and fastening the clasp.

“Rafayel, this is too much,” you said, your voice tinged with awe as he reached for the matching pearl bracelet and earrings.

“It’s nowhere near enough,” he replied softly, his reverent gaze fixed on you. As he fastened the bracelet around your wrist, his tone turned teasing. “These are just little accents to highlight the real treasure by my side tonight.”

“These must have cost a fortune,” you protested, your cheeks warming.

“Don’t even think about it. They’re yours, freely given, with no expectations. All I care about is seeing you happy. Do you like them?”

“Of course I do!”

“Good,” he said with a wicked smile. “Because I can’t wait to unwrap you later.”

His lips claimed yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless. “The sooner we get to the exhibit, the sooner we can leave—and I can have you all to myself,” he murmured against your lips.

“I’ve been dying to see your exhibit! Thomas refused to tell me anything. What did you say to him?” you asked.

Rafayel shrugged, holding the door open for you. As you stepped out of the apartment, he bit his lip and glanced up at the ceiling before quietly closing the door behind him.

“Maybe Thomas is onto something. That dress is going to torture me all night long,” he murmured. His eyes drifted to your exposed thigh, and he rested a hand gently on your soft skin. “We really need to do this more often.”

“You know you don’t have to bring your gun everywhere, right? We hired private security for the evening, so you’re officially off duty tonight, Miss Bodyguard,” he added with a teasing smirk.

You tugged your dress down slightly to ensure the holster strap on your thigh remained hidden. “Wouldn’t you rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it? I feel naked without it.”

“So tempted to make a comment,” Rafayel grinned, “but I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

The Security Team

Thomas opened the back door of the gallery, greeting four imposing men dressed in all-black suits. One by one, they entered the facility at his invitation.

“Gentlemen, thank you for being here today. Normally, Mr. Rafayel has a smaller security detail, but for an event like this, I insisted on something more formal.” Thomas let out a relieved sigh.

“Of course. You’re Thomas, correct? We spoke on the phone,” said Marcus, stepping forward and gesturing over his shoulder, "meet my team."

He introduced the guards and gestured to a man with similar features and build. “This is my brother, Bennett.”

"Family business?" Thomas remarked with curiosity. Bennett nodded in acknowledgment.

“We came out last week to map the facility layout,” Marcus continued. “We’re familiar with the building, but you should walk us through the event details.”

“Wow, you’re thorough,” Thomas replied, visibly impressed. “You came highly recommended by the agency, and I’m beginning to see why.” He motioned for the group to follow as he began walking them through the venue.

Marcus strolled calmly at the front, his sharp eyes taking in the exhibits. “We handle many protection details for high-profile clients and look forward to safeguarding Mr. Rafayel tonight.”

“We appreciate it,” Thomas said. “This is Rafayel’s largest gallery show yet. It includes his work spanning decades and various mediums, all centered around Lemuria—a recurring theme in his art since, well, forever.”

Marcus’s expression darkened slightly as he studied the pieces. “Some research suggests he might be Lemurian himself. Any truth to that?”

“Hardly,” Thomas scoffed, brushing off the question. “He’s just a little more sensitive and eccentric than most. The public likes to paint him as otherworldly, which, of course, I encourage. Free marketing,” he added smoothly, the line rolling off his tongue like a practiced mantra.

Yet deep down, Thomas couldn’t ignore the signs. How could he have worked alongside Rafayel for so many years and not know he was… different? Though Rafayel had never explicitly claimed to be anything other than human, there were too many signs to dismiss.

“My brother will double-check the more restricted areas—the catering hall, lavatories, and employee break room,” Marcus said, snapping Thomas out of his thoughts. “You can never be too careful.”

Marcus glanced over his shoulder and nodded at Bennett, who silently split off from the group and retraced their steps. “My men and I will remain with you to cover all ancillary details. What’s the final count for attendees?”

While Marcus kept Thomas occupied, Bennett slipped outside to the van, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he glanced back as he fastened his seatbelt.

The real security team lay unconscious in the van’s rear compartment.

Bennett smirked wickedly, turning the ignition. As he backed out of the parking lot, he glanced at the figures sprawled out behind him.

“Sorry, boys, but this was the path of least resistance. Don’t worry, you’ll be found in a few weeks. At least your families will get a chance to say a proper goodbye.”

Humming along to the radio, Bennett tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’m not a complete monster. Unlike my brother.”

Target Acquired

Rafayel led you into the gallery, trying to shield himself as photographers swarmed outside the venue. Thomas greeted you both in the lobby, looking frazzled.

“You’re late!"

“I’m actually right on time, thanks to this one,” Rafayel said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

“You’re going to put me in an early grave, I swear! I needed you here an hour ago,” Thomas huffed, shoving a stack of documents into Rafayel’s unoccupied hand.

Rafayel rolled his eyes, “accidentally” dropping the pages into a nearby trash bin. He grabbed your hand and followed Thomas deeper into the building.

“You weren’t kidding about giving me the night off,” you remarked.

“I prefer your exclusive protection, of course,” Rafayel replied, flashing a grin. “But this way, I get your undivided attention. Your only job tonight is to enjoy yourself, Miss Bodyguard.”

“Hurry up!” Thomas scolded as he led you into an overcrowded back office. Inside, four broad-shouldered men dressed in sleek black attire stood waiting.

“Mr. Rafayel,” Marcus greeted, stepping forward. His pale green eyes locked onto Rafayel like a predator spotting its prey. “Good to finally meet you. My team will be managing security for the event tonight. I’m Marcus. Let us know if you need anything.”

“I feel safer already,” Rafayel said, pulling you closer. “Just make sure her safety is a priority too. I can’t live without her.”

You blushed, gently elbowing him in the ribs. “Nice to meet you,” you said, trying to sound professional. “But really, you don’t have to worry about me. I work for the Hunter’s Association, so please focus on his well-being. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can, cutie,” Rafayel teased.

“I mean it,” you insisted.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s a terrible bodyguard,” he retorted with a smirk.

“Rafayel,” you growled, “if you don’t quit, they’re going to need to protect you from me.”

“So feisty. Love that about you,” Rafayel quipped. “Let’s go grab a drink before the mob outside rushes in. I can’t wait to meet all of Thomas’s little wallet-weasels.”

“They’re donors and patrons, Rafayel,” Thomas groaned. “Be on your best behavior, or I swear…”

Rafayel ignored him, pulling you out of the office before Thomas could finish his lecture.

The Halls of Lemuria - Approx. 5pm

Rafayel spent about thirty minutes mingling with guests, shaking hands, and pandering to the crowd before he slipped an arm around your waist, gently steering you toward the double doors of the exhibit hall.

“Rafayel, wait! You’ve barely scratched the surface of your list. You’ve only spoken to about ten people so far!”

“My social battery is officially empty, and I need a break,” he grumbled. “Besides, you haven’t even seen the actual art yet.”

The transition from the gallery lobby to the exhibits was marked by enormous floor-to-ceiling curtains in rich oceanic hues—deep teals, bright blues, and majestic purples. Rafayel chose a spot in the draped fabric, parting it to invite you under his arm.

The first sight inside took your breath away. Vaulted ceilings were illuminated in soft, swirling colors of cerulean, lavender, and pale blue, mimicking the mesmerizing depths of the sea. Small bubbles descended gracefully from hidden mechanisms in the ceiling, adding to the immersive experience. It felt as though you’d been transported to Rafayel’s long-lost kingdom—a world erased from the planet centuries ago.

The walls showcased paintings in various mediums: sprawling white palaces, lush underwater gardens, coral clusters glowing in vibrant hues, and graceful sea creatures. Yet, the sculptures stole the show. Many appeared suspended, floating on transparent wires above the crowd, as if swimming through the air.

At the room’s center, elevated on a pedestal, stood the exhibit’s centerpiece—a striking sculpture of you. The figure depicted you as Lemurian royalty, complete with an elegant tail and delicate fins. Serene and regal, the sculpture held the emissary of the sea in its hands. Its detail was stunning, from the curve of the tail to the expression of wisdom and grace.

You covered your mouth in shock, overwhelmed by emotion as you took in the artistry. Your eyes finally landed on the inscription at the base of the pedestal, engraved in shimmering gold:

“Property of Mo Art, not available for auction.”

Rafayel’s arms slipped around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling close. “I’ve been working on her for years,” he whispered, a proud smile in his voice. “And I’ll be damned if I let her go home with anyone else.”

Your cheeks flushed as you leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I don’t even know what to say…”

“Then don’t,” he murmured. “Just stay here with me for a moment. The next room is… intense. I want to savor this with you.”

He inhaled deeply, committing the moment to memory. “I can’t take you to Lemuria, but I tried to bring a piece of it here for you.”

Behind the next set of thick blue-grey curtains lay a strikingly different scene. This time, you stepped through first, Rafayel following close behind.

The atmosphere shifted immediately. Fishing nets and the bones of sea creatures draped the ceiling, lowering the room’s height and creating a claustrophobic effect. The walls were adorned with paintings—violent, chaotic depictions of Lemuria’s decimation. Abstract oceans were streaked with blood-red carmine and rust.

Life-size ruins littered the space, forcing patrons to step over and navigate around the destruction to view each piece. The lighting deepened, with crimson and shadow replacing the softer lavender tones of the previous room.

At the room’s center was a towering mound of strung pearls, meticulously fastened together into a monument that reached your waist. You clutched Rafayel’s hand tightly. Each pearl represented the tears of Lemuria’s citizens, shed over centuries of devastation. The weight of their sorrow pressed heavily on your chest.

“These were created during one of the darkest times in my life,” Rafayel said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. He squeezed your hand and pulled you closer, his warmth a reassuring presence. “I haven’t felt the need to revisit those memories since you’ve been with me. I hope it stays that way.”

Without lingering too long, Rafayel guided you toward the final set of curtains—billowing white linens that barely contained a bright, inviting light. “C’mon,” he said with a small smile. “Just one more room.”

As you stepped through, the sensation underfoot changed. Sand. It stretched out in soft mounds, leading to an expansive mural on the far wall—a stunning sunrise painted in vibrant hues of orange, pink, and gold. The air felt warmer here, reminiscent of a coastal morning.

The shoreline stretched down the hall, dotted with smaller sculptures of seashells, crabs, and seagulls. Some of the birds hung suspended from the ceiling, frozen mid-flight.

The sand transitioned into a shallow pool of crystal-clear water, complete with gentle waves lapping at the edge. Beneath the surface, an enormous sculpture depicted the ruins of Lemuria in breathtaking detail.

At the water’s edge stood lifelike sculptures of mourners, their faces cast in grief. One figure, draped in black, stood waist-deep in the water, dissolving into the sea as if returning to the kingdom’s ruins below.

Rafayel’s gaze turned somber as he watched the figure. He held your hand tighter, his eyes reflecting the light of the simulated sunrise.

“What do you say we move on to the dining room?” Rafayel suggested softly, attempting a smile. “I could use a drink—or three.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly before nodding. Together, you left the exhibit, hand in hand, as wealthy patrons and critics marveled at Rafayel’s masterful portrayal of beauty, sorrow, and resilience.

Closing Time - Approx. 7pm

After hours of entertaining, you and Rafayel stood by as Thomas ushered the last patrons out of the dining room. With a sigh of relief, Thomas closed the door behind them, a triumphant smile lighting his face.

“Well done, Rafayel,” Thomas said, raising a champagne flute. “Nearly every piece is sold! Mrs. Hildebrant alone claimed a third from the first room.”

Rafayel raised his glass with a playful groan. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Thomas. But I’m starving. Can we puh-lease go now?”

You giggle at his dramatics mirroring his eagerness, both of you ready for the dinner he'd promised. The only people left in the building were the three of you and the hired security detail.

“Yes, yes, you miserable fish. You’re free to go.” Thomas says with a smile, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be at your studio tomorrow to sort out—”

Before anyone could move, Marcus struck Thomas, knocking him unconscious. Chaos erupted as the security team turned on you and Rafayel.

Bennett snatched you from Rafayel’s side, twisting your arm painfully, pressing a gun to your back. “Rafayel!” you shouted as he summoned his daggers. In a deadly display of skill, he swiftly eliminated one attacker but was forced into battle with Marcus and another guard.

Desperate, you fought back, elbowing Bennett and retrieving your hidden pistol. Firing, you hit one guard and barely grazed Bennett before he retaliated with a brutal blow, sending you sprawling.

Rafayel watched Bennett’s boot descend out of the corner of his eye and raised his hand, Evol roaring to life, setting Bennett ablaze in a fiery rage. The boot barely connected with your ribs before Bennett howled in agony, engulfed in flames.

Managing to recover and scramble to your feet, you raise your pistol to put Bennett out of his misery, but Marcus beat you to pulling the trigger.

Rafayel’s unearthly scream tore through the gallery as he raced to you. His eyes are wide in terror and cries of anguish unlike anything you’ve ever heard before tear from his lungs.

In that moment the pain hit and you collapsed to the floor. Vision tunneling, you clutch at the hole in your chest unable to staunch the flow of blood. Some small part of you finds it funny that after all these years your end wouldn’t be at the claws of a Wanderer.

Falling to his knees, Rafayel cradled you, tears forming into shimmering pearls as they hit the floor. “Stay with me,” he begged, pressing against the wound. “Please, don’t leave me.”

The muffled sounds of struggle soften and you fight to remain conscious, but it’s a futile battle. Rafayel called your name over and over until the darkness claimed you.

Capture

Rafayel would remember the sound of that shot for the rest of his long life. He tried to get between you and the bullet, take it for himself, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“NO!” He cried out, scrambling desperately to your side. As you fall to the floor Rafayel feels his heart fracture. No, please, no no no no.

It took him a moment to realize that the screams echoing through the halls weren’t yours but his.

Falling to his knees, he cradled you, tears forming into shimmering pearls as they hit the floor. You were barely conscious.

“Hey, Cutie. Can you hear me?” His voice was just above a whisper. The eyes he loved so much moved over him in faint recognition.

“There she is,” he wept as he pressed against the wound. “Don’t you dare go anywhere. Please? Stay,” Rafayel begged. “Stay with me.”

Your faint smile was his only solace before your body went limp. The bond between you stalled, and Rafayel’s heart shattered.

Marcus, forgotten in the chaos, reloaded his weapon with tranquilizer rounds and fired. Twice.

Both shots struck Rafayel, but he curled around you protectively with a whimper, defying the drugs coursing through his veins. It paled in comparison to the pain of your flickering bond.

You were leaving again, abandoning him to a world without you in it.

“Will you really die without her?” Marcus drawled, walking toward the couple intertwined on the floor. “That would be terribly inconvenient for me.”

Rafayel felt something grip his collar and yank, but he refused to let go. “Please…please…don’t. I n-need…” He moaned in pain. “Someone, please h-help….”

“Go to sleep, fish,” Marcus sighed in irritation and injected Rafayel with another round. “It will all be over soon.”

Rafayel fought against the tide of sleep dragging him out to sea. He didn’t want to go, but he was fighting a losing battle. His last words were your name as unconsciousness claimed him.

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆ ｡𓆞˚

Cross posted on AO3 under "holywaterbucketchallenge" for those of you who prefer that platform. Looking forward to your feedback!

[citrusbarking]

His father doesn’t say a word to the boy as he suddenly yanks the the sons legs up and throws him over his shoulder, not even giving him the privilege of at least walking in instead of being carried. He didn’t know what the hell had gotten into the damned kid but he was set on scaring the boy into line.

“You want me to love on ya kid? Your so fuckin instant on your fathers lovin touch eh?” The father growled, his thick arm, strong with years of working and breaking in much bigger things than his son, easily holding the boys legs in place.

The man continued down the hall to his modest bedroom and threw the now flustered and nerves racked boy down on the bed. “Y-yea! Yea damn right I do! Don’t you want your son to be happ—“ the sons usual manipulative spiral was cut off by his fathers tough hand over his mouth.

“shuttup. Your getten what you fucken begged for boy. You wanna be my lover so damned bad so getting treated like it. And I don’t take back chat from my own damned heifers” his father growled while his hand tightened, his southern accent thickening with a cocktail deep rage something else. The boys eyes where wide and taken aback, his father was a firm but big oaf with him normally, gentle while spoiling him with so much attention…it was complete whiplash but he wasn’t one to back down.

his father could easily recognise it in the boys hardheaded determination in the boys eyes. “Stubborn, just like your old man. Heh” he sighed with a slightly exasperated chuckled, he leaned closer and growled into the boys ear “so damned set in getting what you want eh boy? Dont you get what’s gonna happen to your boy..” he grunted, easily lifting and twisting the boy around on the bed so he is laying on his tummy..

“I’m gonna breed ya in the damned bed you were made in kiddo…if your so determined that you’d be a good lover cause your more like your ma” he pushed his head into the pillows, a panicked little noise coming from the younger boy “then maybe I should fuck you the same way I did the night I knocked her up yea? on the same damned mattress. In the same position… breed you with the same seed your made out of…” his voice reverberated in the boys ear, his final statement punctuated with the sound of his belt unbuckling…

In one swift movement he yanked the boy to the edge of the bed, a deep fearful whirlwind starting in boys gut made him second guess himself about this, he just wanted to alll his dads love and attention like he always had but..this..this felt to far…His heart was racing, knowing that this was crossing a line he should never have approached but before he could calmly tap out he felt his pants and briefs hit the floor.

“wait-wait dad-I’m sorry- never mind I’m sorry!-“ he began to beg and kick a little only to be cut off by his face being pushed into the pillows from behind. The soild feeling of the front of his fathers thighs pressed against the back of his was gut churning, he hit the mattress and tried to get free but he was completely trapped as his father thick arm wrapped around his torso and raised his legs as his back was in a perfect little arch. The father whistled “jeez boy….maybe I should be thanken ya kiddo…been a long time since iv seen a sight like this…lets see just how much you’ve taken after your ma.” He muttered, freeing his arm to thumb open the shamefully wet slit between his sons shaking thighs, his kids muffled protests and panicked tap outs got more frantic..with a harsh open palmed slap to the boys soft butt he reminded him “oi. Remember….you asked for this.” He gruffed in his fatherly tone, sliding two thick fingers inside his little boy.

He slowly started pumping them, the plush gummy walls of his own kid clenching and begging for more as the boy cried for less…. “Atta boy! See? Look at ya….fuck…breakin in just as easy as your ma did…” he praised and let go of the boys hair..

Pleasure started to slowly build in his stomach. It felt so good, but the knowledge of what he was doing to his own father was making him feel guilty, which only made the pleasure burn even more.

“Is this..is this how you acted with m-mama?” The boy whimpered through blubbering lips…his tummy twisting the fingers where suddenly removed, a void he wanted stuffed. “D-dad?” He whimpered before, in one sudden harsh stroke his dad buried himself balls deep into his little boy, the stretch made him cry out in pained surprise.

his pace was harsh and rymathic “I don’t want you whining about me loving on the farm boy again after this or next time you’re on your knees in front HIM. Got it?” he growled through moan strained pants, sliding nearly the full way out then plunging all the way back, his head kiss his own sons cervix at a unforgiving pace. Hitting all the right spots in the slick tight walls. Soon he became undone was deep moans and gunts.

all the ruined kid could manage was a string of “ah-ah-ah” and singing the word dad over and over between sobs, his thighs shaking and clenching, he could feel where his dads cock hit every time. The boys noises started to run together as the pleasure started to burn hotter and hotter in his stomach. He gripped onto the sheets and anything else he could grab tighter, his breathing getting quicker and louder as suddenly he spasmed around his dads thick cock. Screaming his dad’s name through it, sobbing. The sudden tightness and sight of his own boys cummies just….completely blanked his mind as he made a final swift plunge into the boys cervix, his seed filling him…it had been years since he came…it over flowed the boys beaten womb…..

after a couple seconds of hazy glory the older man sighed slowly pulled out of his shaken and broken in boy “shh..shhh easy now..atta boy…” he whispered gently turning him onto his back “deep breaths….g-god dammit..” he groaned seeing the pleasure drunk look on his boys face “Your not..meant to want this..this was meant to be a reality check bud…not..feed into your perversion” he whispered almost shamefully, it was no use though…his dad came inside……now he would have his dad all to himself..forever <3

(Omgggggggg finally did a PT2, I’m sorry if I got kinda long :3, i personally fw tension building in smut and shi, but I get it might be a bit too long so imma do a smut cut of it <3)

this is a long one guys, mb :P

Country son who was basically raised by his farmer dad alone, his ma died during labour so he has always been his dad’s special lil bud, never more then fatherly tho. But cause of this be raised his kid to be underlyingly emotionally spoiled by his dad and unable to share him, so when his dad hired a young handsome farmhand and was all close with him. It.made.him.sick.

it was only made worse by the fact the farm hand was obviously sweet on his pops…giving him those eyes, always following him around like a pup, drinking out of the same flask as him and savouring the taste….it was driving him mad, especially when he saw the way his old man seemed to notice and not call him out.

One day the boys tolerance hit the fan after finding his dad and the farmhand wearing his fathers prized Stetson hat…getting cozy in the barn, his dad watching him bent over the tractors engine, standing right behind him while whispering in his ear and pointing to parts…the son could tell that the farm boy wasn’t fixing shit. So….he “accidentally” put something in the lemonade he made them, only in the farmhands ofc, he could never disrespect his pa like that <3

So when the farmhand eventually collapsed the Dad assumes the poor kid just got heatstroke and drove him home. So once he arrives back at this farm already feeling upset and not in the mood for bullshit he notices his son…the boy in the his Dads prized Stetson hat looking cold and upset he sighed.

“aight boy, you know damn well you ain’t supposed to be wearin that. What’s gotten into yer? Yer inside for heavens sake. Have some respect-“ he began lecture, the man’s bushy brows furrowed only to be cut off by his sons whine.

“why don’t you ever treat me like that huh? All sweet and lovin…” he began, taking the hat off and holding it close “im your son..not him…stop lovin on him like that! You don’t need his help you got me old man!” He began to ramble, glaring and hugging the hat but his Father grunted and cut him off.

“boy..listen that’s a different kind of lovin….its been so long since your ma passed and well…the farmhands sweet on me kid…he is givin me a kinda loving I ain’t have since your ma passed…im lovin on him like a lover.”he softly said getting on his level on the couch….

“And why can’t you give that lovin to me?!” The son snapped, his voice almost pleading now. “Why is it only meant for your lover?! I-I could do better than him!! Plus-plus I’m more like ma then he is!” He was cut off-

”boy. No.” His father demanded, once again getting cut off, the tension rising

The almost growl in his pops voice made the son flinch , but he continued to hold his stance. “Why not? Why is the only person who’s allowed to get that type of affection from you your lover? What’s so wrong with me getting that too?”

and like that…the fathers patience just…snapped

“Yea? Yea you want me to give you a lovers affection?” The older, bigger man near growled….yanking the hat from his son’s hands and shoving it onto his head….

“you asked for this.”

get this too 10 likes and I’ll write the part two ;) within the hour!!!!

[effemimaniac]

feels kind of, how do you say, "le ironic" that one of the biggest tensions immediately post-breakup was my posting about it, anything to do with it beyond vague nothing statements about my feelings was ~too personal~, didn't matter how tongue-in-cheek it was, postcoping was off the table so to speak. but every time they brought it up to me I took it seriously and communicated my feelings and adjusted my behaviour because I thought there was something there to salvage. then just a couple weeks after the move he's talking shit about me on his blog in a really deceptive way, and when I bring it up to him his private response was basically a complete denial to engage or take any kind of accountability, and afterwards his public defense was that he thought I wouldn't see it. which is provably untrue, I mean in the week before we moved out we had a conversation where I said I still checked in on his blog, I just didn't follow him because I didn't want it showing up on my feed. we weren't talking all the time but we were normal at that point. that part was pretty confusing, but I guess that defense wasn't for me, it was for everyone else that didn't know the situation and might believe it absent of any other information. but aside from the fact it was blatantly false it was also just kind of a stupid defense? "oh I thought this person I told I wanted to still be friends with and still checks my blog wouldn't see my post misrepresenting her. yeah it was meant to be behind her back. that makes it better somehow." who is that for? it's insane.

[seokmatthewz]

got to campus an hour before my class started and dear fucking god did i apparently predict that my morning would go so wrong immediately FDLKSDLFKS

[screampied]

‘ HIT IT LIKE IT'S ALL MINEEE ?! ★

𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, sukuna. jjk men as ex boyfriends ‘n how they fuck.

cw. fem! reader, ex bf trope, unprotected, possessive themes, brat taming, p spanking, manhandling, size kink, brēeding, ōral (f! receiving), impact play, degradation, praise, squírting, doggy, mīssionary, mating press, overstim, petnames.

wc. 4.8k

GETO ☆ the sloppy ex.

“said ‘m sorry,” he’d hiss, watching as your legs voluntarily snake around his neck. geto’s got the most smug grin, pretty batted lashes fluttering as he’s being fed his favorite meal that he’s been craving for so so long..

but he’s not sorry. in fact after every argument, it would always end up like this. he’d always make it up to you by eating you out, savoring your taste and giving you the most toe-curling climax. it was the least he could do, right? scorching hot breaths of his fan against your drooling folds as you sat upright against the edge of the mattress. you’re whining, gripping at his unkempt, black strands tightly as your thighs jitter. “mhm, could never stay away from my girl for too long.”

you vigorously shudder, feeling his crooked, pink lips ghost against your soddened folds. with geto, he was a messy eater. you were the only person who could get him on his knees. “i’m very sorry, pretty,” he whispers against your cunt, lengthy tongue swirling and delving deeper inside. you whimper, your grasp against his hair growing tighter and firmer. his darkened roots rise up from the secure grip and you start to grind against his face. “ohhh, my. seems like you missed me too,” and with three wet kisses pressing onto your swollen entrance, he glances up at you. humming, he swipes his nose against your pussy before lolling his tongue out allll the way to show you how messy he was for you. “or you jus’ missed my tongue, huhhh.”

he was so smug, so fucking smug. even whilst being buried right between your thighs, slurping you up like he hasn’t eaten a proper good meal in ages. “s- sugu,” you moan, your sudden attitude disappearing the moment he whisks his tongue against your nub. his other favorite girl, your eyebrows that was once arched from arguing was now curling together from such calamitous pleasure. he’s so sloppy too, taking every few pausing seconds to spit right into your cunt, lapping it up with his tongue, only to spit right back on it again. “f- fuckin’ hate you.”

“yeah yeah,” he whistles against your cunt unfazed — warm breath tickling against your folds that seep with slick juices. so wet, he pries your legs open even further with two hands before making a sheeny trail of saliva with his long, lengthy tongue licking from top to bottom. he stares dead at you too, dark sable irises never leave yours while he’s enjoying his treat. a free hand creeps between your inner thighs and he starts to ease a single thick finger inside. “i take back my sorry then, baby.”

your back arches - feeling his thickset digit easily soak into your clingy walls. you’re already coating a majority of it with your slick, rutting your hips against his mouth and his finger now. the stretch had you feral.

you despised his sassy mouth, and yet he’s always despised yours. the perfect match. if it was anything you and geto could come to terms with, it was the simple fact that you both craved each other. crave was a strong word, but it was the right word.

“s- suguru, fuck— i feel something, ‘s gonna come,” you babble, feeling an unfamiliar sensation bubble up into the deep pits of your lower abdomen. it felt like an intense, spiraling pressure building up before gradually starting to press down onto you. your jaw drops, feeling like you were about to gush right out. his tongue returns to slurp against you, luxuriating your sweet, syrupy taste as you’re practically just fucking your cunt onto his face. he darkly chuckles, feverish breath going against your dripping folds before he literally makes out with it. “s- suguru did you hear me?”

“oh, i heard ya, baby,” he whispers, another finger vanishing into your tight walls. with black strands of messy hair running all down his face, he french kisses your cunt thrice, groaning at the feeling of you pulsing right on his lips. “i just don’t care,” and your legs shake out of nowhere. you felt like you were floating — cloud nine, all the clouds, you felt like you were flying.

your mouth remains open, stupefied and all. with a squealing gasp, you drag his face further against you before spotting a shimmery trail of your own slick running down his chin. again though, geto doesn’t care. in fact, he licks it clean with no shame, swiping a thumb across the crack of his lips before he starts to spank your pussy. “well?” he eyes you, his voice growing low. “you gonna make a mess or not?” pat. “i’m waiting,” pat. “oh c’monnn, don’t tell me you’re scared ‘ta make a mess. we’ve known each other for how long, princess?”

and before you could reply with a snarky comeback — it happens. you end up gushing right on his face, watching it trickle all down his chin and your eyes roll back in nirvana. everything feels so quick, you’re barely able to breathe regular breaths as your eyes grow droopy and your legs break into a fit of spasms. “suguru, suguuu,” you pant, losing your grip in his hair. and like the sloppy eater he was, he laps your cunt clean. savoring the taste, savoring you.

“did you just squirt on my face?” he rasps, pulling his fingers out to watch the mess dribble straight out. you’re so wet, just a puddle and you were laying right in it. you don’t respond and he rolls his eyes, giving your cunt an ‘encouraging’ swat with his palm before purring. “mhm, how ‘bout you do that again? for old times sake, messy girl.”

TOJI ☆ the nasty ex.

“y’know the drill, babygirl. bend over. uh huh, gimme that slutty arch like always, attaaa girl,” toji grits. intently, hooded green eyes are staring at your back. you moan, feeling just how quickly your body submits. toji could never get enough of you. the second your gummy walls swallow his girth, you suck your teeth in salacious rapture. it’s almost carnal. toji groans, gazing right before his eyes as your back slumps forward just for him ‘n only him. “mhm, good girl. sluttin’ y’rself out all fuckin’ on me.”

the crimson red sheets bristle against your skin as he drags your hips closer - raspy breaths pour from his lips as he’s gradually plummeting his thick cock inside of your grippy, welcoming cunt.

oh, you missed him. but more importantly — you missed his cock. if it was anything toji knew how to do, it was to fuck. you whimper, immediately bawling up the sheets into the smooth pads of your palms with your hands imitating a fist shape.

he’s just so fucking big, you feel the fat of his girth stretch you open so good that your mouth starts to salivate. “ngh, fuck toji,” you mewl out in desperate sobs, smelling his loud cheap cologne that never fails to waft right into your nostrils. within an instant, his rude sharp hips snap into you meanly. your jaw hangs open as he’s shoving such lengthy inches into you at once. “mmhhh, right there, ‘toj.”

“still the same cock drunk ‘lil slut i know ‘n love,” he huffs, watching how your body responds to his crazed rhythm. again, he’s so rude, just a single piston of his hips and you’re a slobbering, numb mess. toji always had the stamina of a horse, you feel the pulsing sensation pulsate on his angered cockhead and you shiver. “missed my favorite pussy,” he gruffs, dark thin brows curling together. “fuck back against me, good girl. make me fuckin’ proud, princess.”

you’re a whiny mess. with such ease, toji snatches out orgasm after orgasm out of you like it was nothing. nobody knew your body like he did. he left you in a stupid state, so stupid to where the only words you’re murmuring out is just blurbs ‘n blurbs of incoherent babbles.

“fuuuck,” you suck at the air, feeling how every few seconds he’d bring a mean swat toward your ass. oh, that was always his favorite part. the way your cute recoil always bounces back against him, always responding to his palm. and as he’s continuing to mercilessly plunge his cock in and out of your sopping pussy. it takes no time before you’re creaming down his cock. “t- tojiiiii.”

the moment you’ve successfully milked him dry however, he never fails to plug you full of his hot, sticky cum. you gasp, hearing the wet squelches overflow into your walls. your back still arches itself forward as he’s spewing such stringy ropes deep into the depths of your womb. such a mess,

“aht aht, bring that ass back here,” he lowly snickers, dragging your hips back into him once you try to crawl away. “saved so much cum ‘n i wanna give ya all of it, baby. mhm, let’s listen to it together, yeah.”

you whine, feeling his hovering weight press right up against your ass.

toji swipes a thumb against your entrance, sloshing sounds exiting right from your pussy. he makes you listen to how filthily soaked you were, purposely growing silent. his thumb was fat, it curls its way against your sweet ‘lil labia before he gathers a nice amount of dribbling cum near the print of his finger.

“fuck, ‘s pretty,” he grouses through gnawed teeth. you’re taken by surprise once he flips you over to where you flop right on your back. landing with a surprised oof, you’re met with the hungry eyes of your ex-boyfriend who’s not exactly done yet. “go on. spread ‘em,” he does a swift hand motion with one hand, flicking his tongue against his thumb with the other. you felt your cunt shamelessly twitch at the sight and you moan once he dives right in between your trembly legs. “good girl, now lemme see what ‘m workin’ with.”

the moment he pried your legs open—he wastes no time, smearing his face right against your sloppy cunt. “s- shiiiit, toji,” you sob out a sweet syllable of his name, feeling the edge of his scar tickle against your swollen puffed folds. his long tongue slithers its way down your full slit, relishing in your taste, your taste of his cum. he didn’t care, his tongue happily laps up the honeyed mixture of both sweets that dance on his tongue. you whine, grabbing a fistful of his hair, hearing him groan once you give his head a light tug. glancing down, he spits on your cunt, swirling his tongue around before slurping you right up, cleaning you. “toji y- you’re so nasty.”

with a teasing him, he pats your twitching cunt before the pat turns into a rough spank. “gotta be nasty ‘ta deal with a cunt this wet,” and he gives your folds a single kiss before flipping you over again. you moan, still feeling remnants of cum ooze out of your entrances before he smacks a broad palm against your left ass cheek. “mhm, now now. be a good girl ‘n bend over one more time. wanna clean ya up from the back. just like i always used to, babygirrrrl.”

GOJO ☆ the annoying ex.

he’s just as stubborn as you, maybe even worse. “yada yada less talkin’ more riding, sweet thing,” and you moan once you feel a stinging smack ghost against your ass. you’re riding him, swirling your hips around him back ‘n forth as you’re pressed up against his bare chest in classic cowgirl. one hand of his grips onto your waist, watching you throw your hips back in such obscene rhythm. the roll, you’re so pretty like this, especially whenever you were on top. your knees bury themselves into his thighs as you’re bouncing up and down his cock, taking in many inches of him effortlessly. “you’re so hot,” gojo smugly grins at you, continuously bouncing his left thigh just to see your lewd reaction. you loudly mewl out at the staticky friction, feeling him pump into you again ‘n again. “heyy, pretty girl.” he slyly says as you finally meet his stare. gojo brings a hand against your ass, gripping it tightly before spanking it again - his way of telling you to go faster.

with satoru gojo as an ex, you’d never hear the end of it. hear the end of him,

he craves you more than anything. even better if you let him fuck you just for the night. but that night turns into one, then two, then three.

he’s purely infatuated, your pussy never fails to make him drunk. your arousal was always his favorite dessert. whining against his ear, your tremulous hips create haste a bit quicker as you shift your weight onto your bent knees. “s- satoru, mhh. gonna cum again, fuckk.”

“aw, already baby?” he coos to you in a faux, caring tone. gojo grabs both of your hips, peering intently at the way your abdomen tenses in front of him. you’re gaping, recognizing the stretch like no other. you’re so pretty, your tongue rolls itself out as you’re preparing to make a mess on his cock. like you always do, your arms throw over his shoulders before the moment gets abruptly ruined by a ring. not just an ordinary ring but it’s your phone. gojo raises a white brow, you’re still rocking your hips against him in a circular rotation before he hums. “oh, and who’d be callin’ my baby at this hour?”

“s- satoruuu,” you make a weak attempt at grabbing your phone but he beats you to it — he squints at the screen, an unsaved number that only you recognized. it was one of your old flings and for some reason they still thought they had a chance.

a wave of ripples surge all throughout your core as he’s buried to the hilt. “yo,” he answers, a hand still attached to your rear. you’re completely stupid, forming into a state of sheer dimwit as you moan into his neck. his fattened tip steadily repeats its movements to kiss and kiss near your sweet spot, yanking out such pretty harmonic whimpers. to gojo, the guy was speaking a whole lot of nothing, and he yawns, fingers combing straight down your feverish waist. “uh huh, well anyways, she’s busy. she can’t ngh—come to the phone right now but she’d loooove to leave you a mes- uh, don’t cut me off. do you know who i am?”

you wanted to face palm. he could be so dramatic, but you were being too stuffed full to even think about that. it’s been far too long without his cock, and each hit he created against you had you drooling for more. gojo’s thrusts were so good that it’s got you whining ‘n whining like a broke record until your voice grows strained. you’re having a competitive race with your own breath, blushing throbbing crown continuing to bury its way into your sopping cunt. gojo leans back, grabbing onto the headboard and his pectorals flex. “fuckk, i mean we’re busy,” and he shoots you a teasing grin as you straddle him.“ain’t that right, angel? say hi.”

and you moan loudly, a force ripping out of your windpipe the moment your orgasm comes. gojo puts the phone on speaker, letting the caller on the other end hear all of you. your sweet, sweet climax. you’re going crazy - feral.

it sounded so pretty nonetheless, a five second syllable that’s neverending and it makes his dick twitch. you feel the twitch — you also feel the vein that runs down the curve of his heavy shaft. “s- satoru, fuck fuuuck,” and with your eyes squeezed shut, your jaw tightens. he hums, watching as you coat his cock down with your slippery slick, squelch after squelch wailing out from your cunt. “ohmygoddd.”

“that’s it, baby. make me just as messy as you, yeah,” and you’re met with wet lips crashing onto yours. weakly moving yourself against him at a much slower pace, he delves his tongue inside your hot, warm mouth. you shiver, still feeling the pleasurable after effects before he pulls away, ending the phone call before tossing it near the other side of the bed. “heh, she’s such a good girl,” and you gasp once you feel a hand of his slither between your thighs. maneuvering a few circles against your stuffed cunt, gojo nibbles on your chin. “mhm, who’s pussy is this?”

“y- yours,” you whine, feeling your thighs shake from just his touch alone.

“my name isn’t ‘yours’, pretty girl.”

“m- my pussy belongs to you, ‘toru. satoru.”

“yeah she fuckin’ does.”

NANAMI ☆ the unforgettable ex.

nanami’s the type of ex where you couldn’t forget him even if you tried. he’s got the looks, the charm, the romantically deep strokes.

prefers to have you right underneath him, right where you belonged. you’re so pretty, he can’t help but blink twice because if this was a dream, he didn’t want to ever wake up.

“sweetheaaart,” he lowly groans into your neck, his body gradually rocking into you. he didn’t wanna go too quick or too fast - nanami’s pace was always just right. “you dunno how much i missed you,” and you moan, feeling him hide his face into your chest. he playfully nips against your breasts before sighing gruffly. “missed my girls too.”

“k- ‘kennn,” you moan, going into a short split second daze once the leaky tip of his cock glissades past your clit. you’re so sensitive, clenching your teeth as he’s rolling his beefy body against you. with his weight on top of you, you’re in perfect sync, perfect harmony. he huffs and puffs, hot clouds of breath tickling against your skin before he licks a damp stripe from your chest to your neck. “mhm, i- i missed you more.”

“oh, my sweet, that’s impossible,” he whispers, stretching out your gloopy walls with all his might.

like always, you opened up for him - the stretch was always there. nanami hissed faintly, feeling your cunt cling onto him tightly. so tight as if you never wanted to let go — and you didn’t.

he looked so pretty like this though. dirty blond hair that’s mostly neat and parted was now all ruffled, strands everywhere - strands running past his eyes and forming into thin bangs. as translucent beads of sweat race down his forehead, they pour down each side of his face.

whilst his tense back muscles flex at every sharp thrust he’s giving you, nanami groans—his adam’s apple bobbing as he tossing his head back, biting his lip. as he does so, he feels the little charms of your anklet he bought you years ago with his initials of ‘n. k.’ engraved on it, run down his skin, hearing the dangles sing out a tune as he goes faster and faster. with his chiseled hips going faster, so does your breaths.

“you drive me crazy,” he almost pouts, cupping the curvature of your jawline. nanami holds your face as a single thumb strokes your cheek. “no one m- makes me feel as good as you do, my love.”

“kentoooo, ngh,” you moan out, fuzz deafening the insides of both of your ears. it’s so loud, the sounds of skin slapping and groaning groans fills the room — bouncing and reverberating against the thin walls. the neighbors would probably file another complaint, yet alas, you started to not care. maybe he was what you were missing. you’re throbbing not only from his touch but his voice. nanami could call you the prettiest girl in the word and you’d cream all down his cock, like you’d always do. “breed me, ‘ken. ‘s okay, you can finish inside.”

“s- sweetheart, careful now,” he sheepishly says, feeling the way you wrap your arms around his tense shoulders. your words made him hot, incredibly hot. his entire body feels shivers, just from a few simple words. “fuck,” he swears, delicately pounding you into the bed you two once both shared. with an abashed expression, he peppers your collarbone with soft kisses before whispering up against the sensitive shell of your ear. “ah, i shouldn’t s- say such foul language in front of you, forgive my filthy mouth,” and you cut him off with a tender kiss, rocking your body against him ever further. he moans in your lips, feeling the thumping of his heart accelerate. oh, you had him whipped. he never fell out of love with you - he couldn’t.

calloused fingertips graze against your neck as he holds you close. with thick inches of cock plummeting in and out of your walls, he’s seconds close to shooting into you raw. he sucks in a breathe, bucking his hips as your tongue battles with his. “mhh,” you whimper, feeling his sculpted abs grind against you. nanami still had on his blazer — yet, his tie remained on and his collar was roughly tugged out. in some cases, you forgot why the two of you even broke up in the first place. but with nanami, one or the other would always come crawling back. “kento, ‘s okay, baby,” you murmur between kisses in a shaky voice, feeling him circle a palm around your tummy. he’s envisioning you with a plump belly already and it does something to his brain.

“okay, okay,” he huskily grunts, your legs tightly wrapping around his waist. you heard the timbre in his voice, how it’d always get low whenever he was close. underneath him — your knees buckle, and your cunt was pulsating. each individual nerve prods and pulses, making you whimper out his name in such a sweet manner. the way you’d whine out his name, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes in debleating rapture - it was pure bliss. the moment he cums, he sees nothing but snowy white. nanami’s eyes grows murky, almost doe-like before he’s dumping such a satiny load of ropes into your pussy. “hngh, oh- ‘s so much, sweetheart. ‘m gonna fill you up so g- good.”

and he does — barred big hands grab onto yours as he’s overflowing your weeping pussy with his warm seed. it’s so much that it spills out, dribbling down the sides of your thighs. the smell was almost potent, a milky ring forms its way around his base before he collapses onto your chest. nanami’s eyes were closed and yet his lips latch onto your bare, swollen nipples. “i- mph, love youuu,” and judging from his slurred speech, he was already pussy drunk. he leans into your touch, feeling the way your fingertips massage his scalp. the same hand from before rubs a circle against your tummy, and his head moves its way down before planting a pecking kiss near your stomach.

“and i’ll love our future little one also.”

SUKUNA ☆ the possessive ex.

“tell me,” he purrs in a raspy voice, raking a few fingers over your shivering frame. you moan, watching as he’s preparing to pounce like an animal does right before its prey. you meet the demon’s gaze and he cups your chin, his damp tip brushing against your folds. “anyone touch her?”

coyly, you shrug both shoulders as your legs remain sprawled open. “huh,” you murmur out, sheepish grin curling against your lips. “touch who, ‘kuna?”

“woman, don’t try me,” he snarls, baring a single fang as he spoke - the same exact fangs that would always bury into your flesh, gifting you with a plethora of individual fang marks. your breath hitches once he’s sinking his dick inside, feeling how quick your walls were to tighten. your arms toss over him for support, sweeping the edges of your fingertips against the ancient markings that paint the blade of his broad shoulders. “ah,” he whispers against your ear, an almost growl. you whimper, feeling his forked tongue ghost against your earlobe before he nibbles on it. “talkin’ about her, my other stubborn girl who’s always soaked.”

and as he finishes that sentence, a hand squeezes against your cunt before giving it a rude spank. you gasp, a single thrust of his hips and he’s fully inside. it felt so good, it’s probably been months since he’s seen you, since he’s been inside.

sukuna was the kind of ex where he’d never let you forget him.

the sharp rims of his claws gently and delicately scrap against your skin and he leisurely moves his mouth toward your neck. now, he’s got you right where he wants — mating press.

“s- she’s missed you, ‘kuna,” you finally whine out, the gripping pressure of his cock rummaging through your insides so thoroughly, so fully just makes your brain short circuit. he’s just so big, as he’s expanding inside of your walls, already, your body underneath him starts to grow limp. sukuna stares at you, watching as your facial expressions twitch and contort in gratifying pleasure. “fuck, fuck. i missed you.”

“i know you did,” he groans, and it’s a bit of sincerity underneath his tone. you had the audacity of stealing his breath away and his heart.

having you sprawled out like this . . on his royal bed, screaming out his name like you always did, he’s missed it. he’s missed you, but last of all, he’s missed your sweet, sweet pussy. the bed creaks ‘n creaks until it can’t anymore, creating a sort of beat with each croaking grunt it wails out.

sukuna’s weight is right on top of you — crashing against your skin, barely hovering over your own frame as he’s driving his hips into you speedily, fucking you deeply into the kingly, regal sheets. you’re babbling out candied cacophonies of ‘ryooo’ — ‘kunaaa,’ and a majority of other colorful swears that sound so melodic coming from your tongue. “still got a filthy pussy but an even filthier mouth, i see.”

and as he’s pounding you into the mattress, he grips your chin. he’s so rough, snapping hips rut into you all at once to where you could barely get an audible word out. you’re stammering pure lewd gibberish, skin against skin and he’s sticking right against you like sweltering hot glue.

“f- fuuuuck, harder,” you egg him on, jerking back against the bed at each powerful hit. it doesn’t take him long to locate your g-spot either, you squeal out that same squeak he’s grown to love and that’s when he starts pummeling into it. again, and again, and again. his sloppy thrusts against your pussy gets so repetitive — he feels your legs snake around his waist and he growls into your neck.

“hah, you sound so stupid,” he jibes, pearly fangs nipping the inner part of your neck. your taste, he could never get enough of it. no one had your flavor, your taste — your sweet arousal that forevermore lingers on his demon tastebuds. you were sukuna ryomen’s favorite treat. as he’s grinding into you, you’re already a puddled mess. you whimper, moaning into his ear before he starts to bite near your neck. “all mine. mine to breed, mine to kiss, mine to love.”

as he’s grunting his ‘possessions’ into your ear, your sloppy cunt flutters. his reddened tip thrashes in ‘n out of your core before you start to spasm.

with his weight still pressing onto you, you felt his heat everywhere. his toned body, his muscles colliding against your soft, tepid skin. “i- i love you, ‘kuna,” you whimper out, and he has a smug cunning grin at your sudden blurt. so cute, the way it rolls of your tongue. as he’s continuing to ravage into your swollen, needy walls, he throws your leg over his shoulder. fingers of yours wisp near the nape of his neck whilst another hand cups his face. “never stopped.”

“oh, yeah?” a low voice rumbles out of him, and he starts to flick his tongue near the numerous of fang marks that were slowly forming near your collarbone. you were so sweet, he could just eat you up. “i have a strong liking to you too, i guess.”

“you guess?”

“i . . love you too, brat,” he says through gritted teeth, it was like saying those simple eight words were about to kill him. he felt a weird softness pool its way into his heart before you both reach inevitable climaxes at the same time. it’s abruptly euphoric. he groans, using your bare shoulder to suppress his moans. twitching, he remains like this the entire time. strong arms, all of them wrap around your body, pulling you close.

“all mine,” he repeats, and you watch with glossy eyes as he pulls up your ring finger. with a huffing blow, he has a cute pouty pout. the demon was fucked dumb just as much as you. he rests his face into your chest before grumbling. “does this mean you’re staying this time?”

“maybe.” you pant.

“tch. maybe she says.”

[sepulchral-pulchritude]

forgive me my ignorance (<-not sarcastic, this really is an area i know very little about), but my perspective as a consumer (for car insurance specifically), is this: my big issue is that insurance is REQUIRED to register and drive a car (at least in all the states I've lived in) and driving a car is basically required to have and hold a job.

to be fair, the second thing is more of the problem, but notwithstanding major legislation to expand public transportation which has yet to materialize, the situation is that i have to be able to drive to make enough money to live in a home, and the car insurance company can basically name their price (notably this issue is part of what is so heinous about medical insurance also)

and to be fair to insurance companies, even if they were trying to be good and give the best possible prices to their customers, they are at the whims of the larger markets -- the prices on medical bills (ballooned by medical supply companies and pharma companies basically extorting them), the prices of car parts, the price of gasoline to transport those car parts, probably lots of other market stuff I don't know because like I said i do not know much about this. so there is a bunch of risk the insurance company has to take as well. it is in their interest to act like a company, a money-making entity.

notably, as a profit-seeking entity, they then also find themselves relying on statistics as per @cobrilee's tags, and relying on those kinds of statistics ends up reinforcing institutionalized prejudice. you want redlining? this is how you get redlining.

in the process of writing this post, i looked up the official reason why car insurance is mandatory in 48 out of 50 states. the given reason? public safety.

specifically the idea that if you are hit by a car at no fault of your own, that you should not be expected to pay your medical bills. and i basically agree! that is an assumption that seems fair to buy into as part of living together in a cooperative society. (i will note that who "you" is can really determine who gets to be "at fault" buuuuut we cannot disentangle all of society's prejudices in one go so moving on)

but you know what? if it's for public safety, why is it being handled by entities that are necessarily driven by profit?

the fact is that having and driving a car is basically a requirement to be a working (usamerican) adult, but that it is regulated like it is a luxury item and it is really frustrating. if insurance is mandatory for public safety, it should be a matter of public safety handled by the government. it should be unconcerned with profit!

and if the government had to start really shouldering those costs, i think they might just see that public transportation is much cheaper, more efficient, and all around better than the 1 Car Per USAmerican (Mandatory) system we currently have. and we could have a competent public transportation system. and i would cry tears of joy.

The most frustrating part of working in insurance is knowing why people's insurance premiums are increasing so dramatically but not being able to explain it without sounding like you're defending a bunch of giant megacorporations

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

NO MORE SCENIC!!

NO MORE SCENIC!!

NO MORE SCENIC!!

MARITZA CAN SUCK MY ASS!

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[foone]

Your posts are in an AI model

and then Tumblr decided to sell them to AI models.

Now, don't get me wrong, tumblr selling out the users to AI companies is bad, yes, they shouldn't do that. It sucks.

but don't lets get this confused: your posts were already in there. Tumblr selling them is about tumblr making some money and about the AI models having more exhaustive post collections. It's not about your posts being in an AI model, vs not being in one. That battle has already been lost.

Can you find your post on google? Then it's almost certainly in an AI model already. Think about it: These AI sites showed up before all the sites were making deals to sell their users' content, right? How do you think they built them in the first place?

They scraped the posts. Just like google and bing and such do when they build their search indexes.

It's a fundamental part of how the open web works: you want your posts on tumblr to be visible to users, right? You want them to be readable?* Like, look how much stuff broke when twitter changed their whole read-while-not-logged-in policy, ruining a bunch of thread links/NSFW links. And if it's visible, it's scrapable. That's what the AI models were built on.

I've done website scraping before (not for AI models, of course. I was doing search engines and website archival), this is just how it works. You hire a few relatively smart CS graduates and tell them "build me a scraper that'll give us a bunch of tumblr posts" and they go off for a month or two and come back with a database of a few billion posts, and you stuff that into your AI model. That's how they got all the deviantart and flickr and twitter and pinterest and so on posts. They didn't pay for them: they just took them.

They only ever pay for this shit because either:

they fucked up in such a way that the site might be able to sue them for taking rather than paying

They can buy them cheaper than they can finish taking them. Maybe they'd need to pay the CS grads for an extra month? well, that might be more expensive than just throwing the site a couple hundred thousand bucks.

ANYWAY: my point is, don't treat this "oh no tumblr is selling our posts to AI" like it's a big thing that might happen and it would be bad to happen. Yes, it's bad, tumblr shouldn't do this, this'll let AI models get continual updates of content for far easier than just scraping them would be, tumblr betrayed user trust, and so on...

but realistically, this is not a black and white matter of "if only tumblr didn't do this, then we'd be safe from AI models!"

Nope. We already lost that battle. I'm sorry, and it does suck, but that's just how it is. The avalanche has already started, it's too late for the pebbles to vote. * I'm assuming here that you don't run a private blog that's set to only followers or something. You'd be safer then, of course, but you're not really my target audience for this rant

[mohammedaldeeb]

A Humanitarian Appeal from the Depths of Suffering🥹:

The War on Gaza, Our Losses, and the Struggles We Endure

In these difficult and painful times😔, I find it hard to find words that truly express the depth of the suffering I, 💔😓

along with my family, am going through. I am writing this message from a place of desperation and need, as a doctor working in a hospital in Gaza. Life here has become a constant battle for survival, and each day brings new challenges that test our will to continue😭.

We were once living a peaceful and stable life🙂, building our hopes and dreams😥, working towards a future for ourselves and our loved ones🥺.

However, the recent war on Gaza has turned our world upside down😢. I have lost my job💔,

and with it, my only source of income, due to the destruction of the facilities where I worked😭.

The physical destruction around us has been devastating😓, and many projects I was involved in to support the families of patients have come to a halt😢. The economic losses are staggering, and the road to recovery seems almost impossible😥.

The war on Gaza has not only taken our peace of mind but has also brought with it an unbearable level of suffering😓.

The cost of living has skyrocketed,

and we are struggling to meet even the most basic needs of daily life😣.

The situation has become unbearable, and it feels like we’re trapped in a vicious cycle of poverty, fear, and despair.

How can a family survive when they cannot even afford food, let alone the necessities of life?😭😥💔

As a doctor, I stand at the frontline, trying to save lives amidst the wreckage of war😢.

I treat the injured, manage critical cases, and do my best to bring comfort to those who need it most. 🥹

However, at the same time, I face personal struggles that are just as overwhelming😢. The hospital is in dire need of medical supplies and personnel, and we are doing all we can to save lives with limited resources. But the pain of seeing my own family suffering while I try to help others is a constant burden.

How can I help those in need when I cannot even provide for my loved ones?😣😣

Today, as I face this immense struggle😔,

I turn to you, dear reader, with a plea for help🙏🏻😥.

This is not just a request for personal assistance🙏🏻🥹, but a desperate call for hope and a chance to rebuild my life and support my family.

I need your help to share my story😓, so that it reaches as many people as possible.

Your support, through donations and sharing this story, will allow me to help my family escape the horrors of war and start a new life abroad, where we can live in safety and dignity🙏🏻🥹❤️.

I need the resources to travel abroad to continue my education l😔and provide a future for my family🙏🏻😓. Pursuing my studies and advancing my career in medicine is my way of ensuring that I can make a lasting difference, both for myself and for the people of Gaza. But I cannot do this alone.

The funds I am seeking will help me cover travel expenses, medical costs for my family, and the basic needs that we are struggling to meet each day😥.

The financial burden is overwhelming😭,

and without your support, I fear that my dreams, and the future of my family, will slip further out of reach😥😭💔.

Every donation, no matter how small, will make a difference.

Every act of kindness, every person who shares this message, will help light the way for us in this dark time🙏🏻😢.

I humbly ask you to help me spread this story. Share this story with your friends, family, and networks. Let it reach those who have the means and the will to help🥹🥺❤️.

Together, we can make a difference. Your kindness, your generosity, and your willingness to stand by us will mean the world💝🥹🙏🏻.

In these dark times, solidarity is the light that can guide us😔💔. Your support is not just an act of charity; it is an act of humanity❤️❤️.

You are not only helping an individual, but you are also supporting a family in dire need of hope and a better future😃❤️.

I will forever be grateful for any assistance you can provide, whether it’s a financial contribution, sharing this story, or offering a kind word of encouragement.

Your help will give us the strength to continue, and it will remind us that in the midst of all this suffering, there is still hope, there is still kindness, and there are still people who care😃❤️.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart❤️❤️, for your time, your attention, and your compassion.

Together, we can create a future where we can live with dignity, rebuild what has been lost😔, and give our children the hope they deserve💝🥹🙏🏻.

Solidarity is Hope, and Helping is Life💚❤️💛🖤🇵🇸 .

vetted by \

@90-ghost (number 212)

@mangocheesecakes ,

@sayruq

@el-shab-hussein

@nabulsi