#live commodity tips

[tabney2023]

Live Your Life!

[digitalk24]

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[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[reasonsforhope]

The Surucuá community in the state of Pará is the first to receive an Amazonian Creative Laboratory, a compact mobile biofactory designed to help kick-start the Amazon’s bioeconomy.

Instead of simply harvesting forest-grown crops, traditional communities in the Amazon Rainforest can use the biofactories to process, package and sell bean-to-bar chocolate and similar products at premium prices.

Having a livelihood coming directly from the forest encourages communities to stay there and protect it rather than engaging in harmful economic activities in the Amazon.

The project is in its early stages, but it demonstrates what the Amazon’s bioeconomy could look like: an economic engine that experts estimate could generate at least $8 billion per year.

In a tent in the Surucuá community in the Brazilian Amazonian state of Pará, Jhanne Franco teaches 15 local adults how to make chocolate from scratch using small-scale machines instead of grinding the cacao beans by hand. As a chocolatier from another Amazonian state, Rondônia, Franco isn’t just an expert in cocoa production, but proof that the bean-to-bar concept can work in the Amazon Rainforest.

“[Here] is where we develop students’ ideas,” she says, gesturing to the classroom set up in a clearing in the world’s greatest rainforest. “I’m not here to give them a prescription. I want to teach them why things happen in chocolate making, so they can create their own recipes,” Franco tells Mongabay.

The training program is part of a concept developed by the nonprofit Amazônia 4.0 Institute, designed to protect the Amazon Rainforest. It was conceived in 2017 when two Brazilian scientists, brothers Carlos and Ismael Nobre, started thinking of ways to prevent the Amazon from reaching its impending “tipping point,” when deforestation turns the rainforest into a dry savanna.

Their solution is to build a decentralized bioeconomy rather than seeing the Amazon as a commodity provider for industries elsewhere. Investments would be made in sustainable, forest-grown crops such as cacao, cupuaçu and açaí, rather than cattle and soy, for which vast swaths of the forest have already been cleared. The profits would stay within local communities.

A study by the World Resources Institute (WRI) and the New Climate Economy, published in June 2023, analyzed 13 primary products from the Amazon, including cacao and cupuaçu, and concluded that even this small sample of products could grow the bioeconomy’s GDP by at least $8 billion per year.

To add value to these forest-grown raw materials requires some industrialization, leading to the creation of the Amazonian Creative Laboratories (LCA). These are compact, mobile and sustainable biofactories that incorporate industrial automation and artificial intelligence into the chocolate production process, allowing traditional communities to not only harvest crops, but also process, package and sell the finished products at premium prices.

The logic is simple: without an attractive income, people may be forced to sell or use their land for cattle ranching, soy plantations, or mining. On the other hand, if they can make a living from the forest, they have an incentive to stay there and protect it, becoming the Amazon’s guardians.

“The idea is to translate this biological and cultural wealth into economic activity that’s not exploitative or harmful,” Ismael Nobre tells Mongabay."

-via Mongabay News, January 2, 2024

[writers-potion]

I'm writing a sci-fi story about a space freight hauler with a heavy focus on the economy. Any tips for writing a complex fictional economy and all of it's intricacies and inner-workings?

Constructing a Fictional Economy

The economy is all about: How is the limited financial/natural/human resources distributed between various parties?

So, the most important question you should be able to answer are:

Who are the "have"s and "have-not"s?

What's "expensive" and what's "commonplace"?

What are the rules(laws, taxes, trade) of this game?

Building Blocks of the Economic System

Type of economic system. Even if your fictional economy is made up, it will need to be based on the existing systems: capitalism, socialism, mixed economies, feudalism, barter, etc.

Currency and monetary systems: the currency can be in various forms like gols, silver, digital, fiat, other commodity, etc. Estalish a central bank (or equivalent) responsible for monetary policy

Exchange rates

Inflation

Domestic and International trade: Trade policies and treaties. Transportation, communication infrastructure

Labour and employment: labor force trends, employment opportunities, workers rights. Consider the role of education, training and skill development in the labour market

The government's role: Fiscal policy(tax rate?), market regulation, social welfare, pension plans, etc.

Impact of Technology: Examine the role of tech in productivity, automation and job displacement. How does the digital economy and e-commerce shape the world?

Economic history: what are some historical events (like The Great Depresion and the 2008 Housing Crisis) that left lasting impacts on the psychologial workings of your economy?

For a comprehensive economic system, you'll need to consider ideally all of the above. However, depending on the characteristics of your country, you will need to concentrate on some more than others. i.e. a country heavily dependent on exports will care a lot more about the exchange rate and how to keep it stable.

For Fantasy Economies:

Social status: The haves and have-nots in fantasy world will be much more clear-cut, often with little room for movement up and down the socioeconoic ladder.

Scaricity. What is a resource that is hard to come by?

Geographical Characteristics: The setting will play a huge role in deciding what your country has and doesn't. Mountains and seas will determine time and cost of trade. Climatic conditions will determine shelf life of food items.

Impact of Magic: Magic can determine the cost of obtaining certain commodities. How does teleportation magic impact trade?

For Sci-Fi Economies Related to Space Exploration

Thankfully, space exploitation is slowly becoming a reality, we can now identify the factors we'll need to consider:

Economics of space waste: How large is the space waste problem? Is it recycled or resold? Any regulations about disposing of space wste?

New Energy: Is there any new clean energy? Is energy scarce?

Investors: Who/which country are the giants of space travel?

Ownership: Who "owns" space? How do you draw the borders between territories in space?

New class of workers: How are people working in space treated? Skilled or unskilled?

Relationship between space and Earth: Are resources mined in space and brought back to Earth, or is there a plan to live in space permanently?

What are some new professional niches?

What's the military implication of space exploitation? What new weapons, networks and spying techniques?

Also, consider:

Impact of space travel on food security, gender equality, racial equality

Impact of space travel on education.

Impact of space travel on the entertainment industry. Perhaps shooting monters in space isn't just a virtual thing anymore?

What are some indsutries that decline due to space travel?

I suggest reading up the Economic Impact Report from NASA, and futuristic reports from business consultants like McKinsey.

If space exploitation is a relatiely new technology that not everyone has access to, the workings of the economy will be skewed to benefit large investors and tech giants. As more regulations appear and prices go down, it will be further be integrated into the various industries, eventually becoming a new style of living.

[astaroth1357]

The Demon Brothers + Dateables Bodycare

Is it the domestic in me that likes the idea of helping my SO wash up and relax? Probably.

Contents: No warnings, just fluff.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

Preens his wings daily, always once in the morning and once more at night.

The whole routine usually involves a shower then carefully running his fingers through his feathers to apply the right oils and get them back into place.

Loose or shed feathers are typically collected then promptly burnt (because Mammon got caught trying to sell them as powerful hex materials a couple centuries ago. He'll be damned a second time before he gets turned into a commodity! )

Before MC arrived, he used to have to go to Asmo for help getting the spots he had a hard time reaching. He'll never admit it, but he still lets Asmo help him from time to time just because he misses the bonding. Asmo is 100% that chatty hairdresser whenever he helps his brothers self-care routines, it's very entertaining.

If MC has the time to help him preen, he'll consider it the highlight of his day! The skin below the feathers is incredibly sensitive, so the feeling of their fingers running through it and knocking away any dead skin makes him purr.

It takes about an hour to get through all four wings though. Fair warning.

Mammon

Very, VERY protective of his wings. They don't look like much, but what skin and bone are there are delicate af. He once knocked one into a bookshelf and nearly passed out from the pain.

Cleans them every other day. He doesn't use his demon form much, so he doesn't worry about them getting too dirty. That said, if a photoshoot wants him to have them out, he'll make sure to freshen up.

Mammon usually sponges off any dirt on his wings then applies some moisturizer (Asmo recommended of course). Exfoliating dead skin is... well let's say it's a process he takes only with great reluctance so he tries his damnedest to keep them from drying out in the first place.

WHEN exfoliating day comes, he used to only undertake it by himself because he didn't even trust Asmo not to rub his skin so raw that he'd be in agony for weeks. It took months for him to trust MC enough to try it. Though now that he does, he could never go back!

He adores how gently the MC treats his wings and their little check-ups like "Are you okay?" or "Is this too much?" Their attention is fully on him and he lives for it. Sometimes he'll just shyly nudge the exfoliation brush into their hands when he really wants to feel loved that day.

Leviathan

Has the easiest day-to-day upkeep of all the brothers, really. Dunk his tail in some water and boom. Done. It's shedding time that he actually dreads...

About once a season, Levi's tail becomes unbearably itchy as the old skin lifts off to make way for the new. The whole process lasts about a week and he calls it his personal hell.

Levi becomes a completely different person whenever he's shedding. Bitchy, irritable, and extremely quick to lash out. He stays in his room and his brothers just leave his meals outside the door, lest they risk a visit from Lotan...

Everyone, including himself, thought the MC had a death wish when they insisted on helping him but he quickly discovered that it was something he never knew he needed.

He looooves being spoiled by their attention even more than Mammon. He'll sit on their lap and latch himself on like a kola bear while they carefully work to peel the shed off of his tail. Sometimes he games, other times he just quietly basks in them even being there at all. He adores their kindness and it makes things go faster, so really it's a win-win for him all around!

Satan

His tail is a bitch to manage so it is one of the many passing irritations that irk him throughout the day.

The bone/scales collect a lot of dirt in hard to see crevices, so when Satan goes to clean it, he often has to pull out Q-tips and metal picks just to get around all those edges. He uses a magnifying glass too, so it can look like he's cleaning up some kind of museum artifact.

He can and will accept help from basically anyone who offers (except Lucifer) and Asmo is very used to him coming in to get the thing cleaned up when he's just too frustrated to do it himself.

Lowkey wishes that MC could just take over Asmo's place as his go-to helper but he doesn't want to burden them.. It takes a good 2-3 hours to get the whole thing clean and he doubts that they have the time for that every day.

Took to the idea of MC helping him the fastest out of anyone, though they needed a bit of training on his part in order to be as proficient at it as him or Asmo. Unfortunately, his tail instinctively responds to his emotions whether he wants it to or not. That means it often wraps around the MC's wrist and won't let go which complicates things...

Asmodeus

Obviously the cleanest boy in the House.

Asmo has his self-care routine ON LOCK plus everyone else's to be quite frank. He's always on the lookout for new products or care strategies to help himself or his brothers feel their best (even the ones who don't let him help in person.)

He keeps "Care Kits" for each one of his brothers to use in the event that they have a catastrophic emergency that needs resolved. Seriously, the amount of times that he's had to pluck Lucifer's ripped feathers or cut out matted chunks of Belphie's tail fur is just...

Asmo takes his own wing care very seriously, so much so in fact that he begged Solomon to come up with the "perfect moisturizer" centuries ago which he still sells as part of his own personal product line. Even Mammon can attest to its effectiveness!

Simply loves it when MC comes in to help him! They both know that he doesn't really need it, but there's something so sweet about letting your special someone wash your hair or massage your wings... He'll melt into a puddle every time!

Beelzebub

His wings are SO DELICATE. Mammon and Asmo go on and on about how their wings are fragile but Beel has to constantly be sure that his don't straight up break.

You would think that would make him more hesitant to clean them, but not so. In fact, Beel is right up there with Asmo in terms self-grooming as far as his wings are concerned.

The reasons are two-fold. One, because they are so sensitive and temperamental that even a small layer dirt on them feels very irritating. And two, because Beel cares a lot about his body. Not in a vain way, just in a "this is the one I get" sort of way. His fitness goes hand-in-hand with his personal hygiene!

Beel never uses soapy water to clean his wings because it dulls them out and makes them feel sticky... He's much more likely to run a damp washcloth over them a few times a day which seems to do the trick.

He prefers to have Belphie or MC help him over Asmo, as he needs to have a lot of trust in a person to let them touch such a fragile part of his body. It's almost like another bonding exercise between the three as Belphie cleans one wing and MC cleans the other. Just some wholesome pamper Beel time for everybody!

Belphegor

Dirty boy. Filthy boy. Bad Belphie.

Belphie is very much a "I'll only take a bath if my hair gets greasy" kind of guy. Thankfully, Beel or Asmo usually shove him into a bathtub on a semi-regular basis. It's not that he loves filth, he just loses track of the days and baths/showers make him extra sleepy... Somebody has to be around to be sure he doesn't drown.

Unfortunately, that also means his tail care is just pitiful. He'll put off brushing it because he thinks it takes too long, which only leads to it getting matted up and taking even longer to clean up.

Asmo has dragged his sorry ass down to the bathroom many times to hose him down then de-mat his tail like he's a stray dog. Belphie whines the whole time, but lets him because it still beats having to do it himself...

Thankfully, all the MC ever had to do was float out the threat of no more cuddles for him to finally take his hygiene seriously. He may still beg them to "help" him in the bathtub or brush his fur though. He claims it's so relaxing that it put him to sleep, but we all know he was already going to do that anyway...

Diavolo

So we know that he has a legion of servants and a Barbatos to help him keep clean, but I promise you that the MC could come up to him with a dollar store hairbrush and this man would still be over the moon.

He emphatically adores literally any kind of care or grooming the MC gives him. Even if they objectively suck at it, he'll still love it anyway.

Dia could sit for hours, completely content, while the MC brushes the same bit of his hair over and over again. He's in it for the intimacy, so who cares about the results?

He's totally down for anything they want to do to him. Put his hair up in silly clips? Sure. Tie bows and streamers to his wings? Absolutely! Give him middle-school faux tattoos with pens and highlighters?? Which arm do they start with??

Barbatos and Lucifer, however, are NOT totally down for anything that the MC wants to do to the demon prince. So, reign it in, chief, they'll be monitoring them closely...

Barbatos

He doesn't get a lot of time to just take care of himself, so his morning/evening cleaning routines are quite important to him. That includes the care for his tail.

Barbs' tail is more amphibious than it is reptilian like Levi's, so it's actually better for him to wash it sparingly to keep it from drying out.

That said, he is still quite defensive of it. Asmo has tried for eons to get Barbs to let him so much as massage it and has nothing to show for it.

Needless to say, he is quite jealous that the MC gets to hold onto Barbs' tail if he has it out. Even more so that they have helped him wash it once or twice before, but still not often. Barbs doesn't let them abuse their tail privileges, after all.

When Barbs does let himself relax enough for some spoiling, he's very fond of letting the MC just glide and slide their hands along his tail for a little while. He knows the texture is slippery, but warm, and can feel quite nice on the skin so he's certain they enjoy it as much as he does.

Simeon

Simeon has a similar preening routine to Lucifer as their wings aren't too different, though Simeon wings are much, much bigger. His shirt isn't backless for nothing.

Simeon's wings also feel a lot different from Lucifer's. They're both soft, but it's the difference between stroking wool and petting a cloud, the two just can't compare. Simeon's wing feel light as air but brimming with sheer strength. They're just very impressive all around.

Unlike Lucifer, he doesn't burn his discarded feathers if they need to be plucked. He'll save them and either use them for writing quills or give them out to ill witches because angel feathers can be used to make excellent cure-alls. Solomon sometimes asks for a few as well.

Simeon gets very flustered whenever MC offers to help him preen. The first time they did it, he spent the whole time lightheaded and giddy. It was probably the most intimate part of his body they'd be allowed to touch for a long while, so he soaked in every moment of it.

Is always too shy to ask them for their help directly, but will literally jump at any offer they give him. Sometimes he pulls a Mammon and tries to subtly hint at it by mentioning how much his back is sore or worrying about his feathers outloud... Please help him, he is desperate.

(No Solomon, he is human, but I can assure you he bathes for whatever that's worth.)

[kingkatsuki]

Trying to find condoms in the Abyss is an on-going struggle, especially when you end up being scammed for your last pack of smokes. But it’s okay, because Enjin’s pull out game is strong right. Right?

Why is it never just a drabble when it comes to him😫

Pairing: Enjin x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, thigh fucking, you tell Enjin to pull out (and he’s doing his best), creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, one spank, dirty talk, cum swapping, spit.

Word Count: 3.8k.

“Fuck,” Enjin groaned when he picked up his bag from the floor, holding the worn condom pack between his slender fingers.

You would’ve burst out laughing at the dejected look on his face as he crouched completely stark naked on the floor if it wasn’t for the realisation that yet again he’d purchased a dud fucking condom. Your cunt clenched pathetically around nothing as you became resound to the fact that you weren’t having sex tonight— especially not now.

“I swapped a pack of smokes for this shit,” He grunts, his cock bobbing in the air as he still attempts to pull the dry condom over his bulging head.

Enjin had been elated when he’d finally found a seller in the next town over, having spent way too long hunting for any discarded plastics in the trash heaps outside. Honestly he’d probably have more luck if he tasked Rudo to do the job, although it seemed far more seedy to employ him to do Enjin’s dirty work. Having to explain to him what the condom was even for would be a conversation for another fucking day, and definitely not something you’d ever want to be a part of.

You were certain he’d put his foot on the gas a little harder than normal to try and get you both home as quickly as possible. Making eyes at you through the rear view mirror from where you sat beside Tamzy as he willed the drive to hurry up. His final few fragments of resolve already cashed in when he stopped himself from bending you over in a dingy alley to take you where you stand back in the last town.

You’d barely had time to take your shoes off in Enjin’s room before he was hurriedly tugging all his clothes off, getting his arms and head stuck in his shirt as he tried to shrug it off to the side. Jumping from toe to toe as he kicked off his boxers, revealing his heady cock to your prying eyes as you pulled your own clothes off. His feet still covered with socks as he hunched over his forgotten clothes, unwrapping his prized condom.

Your cunt throbbed at the crude sound of him spitting down on his length in an attempt of makeshift lube as he tried to roll the latex along his girth, head hung low in concentration as he held his cock at the base.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened to either of you. Protection and birth control were a commodity in the Abyss and it meant that the items were hard to come by. Often waiting for the Heavens to throw leftover items down below, or using the homemade methods that had varying effects and levels of reliability. The last time this had happened Enjin hadn’t left you unsatisfied, tonguing your clit until your eyes were rolling back into your skull and your toes were curling.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit,” Enjin grunted as the condom split over his cock, the swollen pink tip now poked out the top of the latex as he knelt on the floor. Lips curled into a childish pout as this time you couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of you, his poor neglected cock bobbing in the air.

“It’s not funny, baby.” He groaned, “Do you know how long it’s been?” Or how much galla he’d wasted trying to procure these. If he got back to that town and found the guy that sold him the dud condom it was gonna be on fucking sight—

You were fully aware, and so was your neglected cunt that throbbed pitifully. Feeling his mattress dip as he came to settle between your parted legs, warm palms smoothing along your inner thighs as he stared down at your glistening folds. Living at the Cleaners compound made it difficult to get many moments alone, from Riyou sneaking in through your bedroom window at all hours, to Rudo interrupting in the common areas and even Zanka had walked in on the pair of you one too many times. The few messy fumbles in the van outside weren’t enough to keep either of you satiated for long, and the erotic books Semiu recommended you did nothing to help soothe the desire running hot like molten lava through you.

“Do you know how much he misses being inside you?” Enjin dragged the leaking tip of his cock through the mess between your thighs, your hips jolting when the head nudged against your puffy clit, “He wants to feel this pretty pussy wrapped around him— see.”

“You’re such a dork,” You shook your head, scrunching your nose at the way Enjin referred to his cock.

“But you love me for it,” He gave you a toothy grin as he tapped his drooling cockhead against your mound before letting the weight of it hang low as he hovered over you to press a sensual, open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Enjin’s fingers brushed through your folds, collecting your slick on them as he pushed two inside you. Barely enough to make you feel full as he curled them inside you, prodding at the spongy spot inside you as you rolled your hips into his touch. His thumb teasingly flicking your clit side to side as you leaned into his touch, but it wasn’t enough—

You could feel his cock nudge your thigh, leaving silvery lines of pre against your skin as you raised your knee to press against it. It wasn’t enough, you needed more. Swallowing his moans in your throat as you felt him break the kiss with a grin, reaching down to hold your thighs together as he pushed the tip of his cock between them.

“You’re to pretty like this, you know that?” He hummed as he started fucking your thighs, the underside of his cock brushing against your slick folds with every roll of his hips as he towered over you.

Your hands reach up to mould your tits, pinching and tugging at your stiff nipples as you tried to give yourself some added stimulation. The graze of his shaft against your clit was barely enough to have you close, the pleasure ebbing inside you was becoming far too intense as your poor neglected hole throbbed pathetically around nothing.

“Put it in,” You whined, delirious from pleasure as you tried to shift your hips. Spreading your thighs to give him room to slip his drooling cock inside your wet heat.

“What?” Enjin stopped his thrusts abruptly, unsure he’d heard you right, “What did you say?”

“Fuck me, Enjin. Please.” You pout, trying to coax him inside your unprotected hole, “It’s not enough.”

“That’s too risky, sweetheart. I haven’t got—” Enjin swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he glanced down between your bodies to look at your tight heat. Your desperate hole fluttering around nothing as he thought about the way you felt when he stretched you open, fucking you into the shape of him.

“It’ll be fine.” You brushed his doubts away, shifting your hips as he kept his grip against your thighs, your cunt still angled in the perfect position for him to slide right in—

“You’re not on birth control.” You can tell his control is wavering, the excuses few and far between as you feel the length of his cock pressed firmly between your thighs. Coating himself in your messy slick, it would be so easy to just reach between your thighs to push him inside.

“So you can just pull out.” You deadpan, as though it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

Just pull out. As if it was that fucking easy.

“That ain’t a reliable method of contraception, sweetheart and you know it.” You were frustrated now, huffing at his objections as he sounded like one of the textbooks from Korvus’ study.

“We’ll be fine.” You pressed, wide eyes practically pleading with him as you jut your lower lip out for good measure. You reached between your thighs to press the tips of your fingers against his heavy cock, smoothing the fresh bead of pre that oozed from the tip along the soft head.

“Oh yeah?” Enjin raised a brow, his chest concaving when you teased his cock, “Do you not remember what happened last time?”

The last time you’d had unprotected sex, you’d had a scare that resulted in Enjin searching trash piles for the chance of finding a pregnancy test. The futile search ended with you sat in front of the doctor being told that you weren’t pregnant, a result that Enjin still had to foot the bill for— but the stress and panic that came along with it were priceless.

“We shouldn’t risk it.” He shook his head, spreading your thighs apart, “I’ll still make you cum, baby.”

“Enjin, please,” You were whining now, but you didn’t even care, “Just pull out.”

It was cute that you trusted him enough to be able to pull out once he felt your warm, wet walls wrapped around his cock. Especially without the security and safety of that pesky latex barrier that always got in the way, and pinched around the base of his cock to stop him from feeling every inch of you.

His resolve was crumbling in front of you, and you could tell. Your fingers push down on the fat tip, dragging it through your messy folds as it caught against your tight hole. Gasping in satisfaction from the contact as you curved your hips, trying to angle them to dip him further inside. Your fluttering, unprepped hole practically inviting him in.

Just one slight buck of your hips and he’d practically be inside you. Stealing the air from your lungs when his swollen cockhead finally breaches your tight hole.

The stretch was intense. A high pitched mewl escaping your lips as you felt him begin to stretch you open, your cunt swallowing him as he rut his hips instinctively. Burying more of his length deeper in your pliant walls, eyes focused on the way you sucked him in as he disappeared inside you.

Fuck. Enjin grunts, watching you take him inch by inch as your warmth engulfed him. He’d forgotten how good you felt like this, and this was the exact moment he realised what a terrible idea it was. At this rate he wouldn’t even be able to stop himself as he felt you pulse around him. Tightening his grip on your hips as he released the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding, certain he’d leave bruises in his wake as he stared down at the debauched sight beneath him.

Canting your hips pathetically as you tried to move beneath his harsh grip, doing nothing but pressing the thick tip against the spongy spot inside you as you ground yourself against his cock. At this rate he won’t even last a couple of measley thrusts, so Enjin knows he should pull out— to stop this before it goes any further.

But it had already gone far enough— when your warm hands grab for his shoulders and try to pull his frame down on top of you. The movement only serves to bury his cock even deeper inside your pliant walls as he chokes back a groan, and he starts to wonder why he’s even trying to stop you when the damage is surely already done.

“Oh, fuck. Baby,” He groans as he styles for a moment, cherishing the way your silky walls cling to him with no barriers, no limits.

“Fuck me please, Enjin.” You mewl, “I need it.”

And who is he to deny you?

He’s feral, using the harsh grip on your hips to slam you down on his cock. The rough hairs at the base tickle your clit with each downward motion, your slick mattes into it as you soak his length. Drooling down his balls as you cherish the sensation, trying to remember the last time he felt this good.

“So pretty, baby.” He coos, the shlick pap, pap, pap of his hips against yours fill the dingy room as he fucks into you with urgency. His chest heaves as he feels every inch of you pulse around him, coaxing him in and spurning him on as he sets a brutal pace.

It really has been way too fucking long.

Enjin is certain he’s going insane, delirium takes over as he feels you writhe beneath him. Focused on the way your tits bounce with each rough thrust as a feeble ‘oh’ leaves your lips every time he pushes back inside you, like a record stuck on repeat as he drives forward to pull the sound from you.

“You feel so good, Enjin,” You husk, “So fucking deep.”

Every ounce of restraint has left him now, and his balls are dangerously tight already. Throbbing at the prospect of emptying themselves into your warm, drooling heat. But he’s got to be good, he’s got to show restraint. Everything will be fine, he’ll be able to pull out like this and empty his release onto your stomach.

Enjin is certain there’s nothing in this world or all of the Heavens that feels as good as your warm, wet unprotected cunt feels wrapped around his thick cock. He leans down to pull one of your taut nipples between his teeth, lashing his tongue against it as he begins to suck hard. He feels the way your body responds to him, cunt clenching around his cock as more sinful noises slip past your lips.

“Oh my god,” You cry out, you always were so fucking noisy, positive the rest of the compound would be able to hear you “I’m close already.”

Enjin pushes two fingers inside your mouth in a feeble attempt to silence you, pressing down on the pad of your tongue as you pant hard. Closing your lips around them as you suck against his digits, doing nothing but exasperating the throb in his pelvis as he imagines your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck, cum inside me please,” You babble incoherently, drunk on pleasure as the words are muffled by his fingers.

“That ain’t what we agreed.” He practically spits between clenched teeth because how is he supposed to deny you when you sound like that. His cock throbs in agreement with you, and Enjin is certain he’ll have to pull out now before it’s too late. He gives the side of your thigh, just below the swell of your ass a firm spank as you throb around him, “Stop being naughty.”

Enjin’s certain he could do anything to you when you’re like this now. So completely fucked out of your mind, completely intoxicated with arousal. You’d let him cum wherever he pleased without the faintest thought of the dangerous repercussions, burying his cock inside you to kiss your cervix as he douses your pliant walls with his spend. Pulling out to watch it drool from your abused hole before fucking it deeper inside you and filling you again, and again. Until your cunt is stuffed full and drooling with the soppy mixture of your combined releases. Until it all becomes too much and you’re begging for him to stop—

Fuck, he’s got to pull out now or he won’t at all. Enjin’s breath fans your face as he fists the sheets on either side of your head. Leaning his weight off you as he moves his hips back, hissing at the loss of contact.

“Please,” You gasp when you feel him begin to pull out, your thighs tighten around his hips as you lock your ankles behind his ass. Your painted nails dig into his broad shoulders as you cling to him for dear life, even your cunt feels tighter as Enjin chokes back a moan.

“You’re not behaving,” He bites through clenched teeth, hands move to your hips to hold you down in a feeble attempt to make you obey, “You’re being a brat.”

His blunt cockhead brushes your cervix as thick tears clump in your lashes, blinking them back to stare up at him with pleading eyes. Dangerously close to your bliss as you find yourself teetering on the edge of your release.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” You chant in a dull mantra as your cunt tightens around him, practically trying to milk him of his release as Enjin is positive now your hips will be bruised from how hard he’s gripping to them.

“You said—” He snarls, trying to stop his final string of willpower from snapping.

“I know, I know,” You whine, “But I need it, please.”

How is he supposed to deny you now?

He cants his hips forward, feeling your thighs tighten around him even more as they limit his movement. Barely able to grind against you as the blunt tip of him spears the spongy spot inside you with each rough thrust. He’s losing his mind, he’s certain of it, from how fucked out you look beneath him.

“You need to let go, sweetheart,” He grunts, trying one more time to pull back from your tight cunt, his hands grip your thighs to try to loosen your grip, “I’m fuckin’ close.”

“No!” You tighten your grip in retaliation, shaking your head, “I want it, please—”

You’d sign his death sentence one day, he’s certain of it. Your fingers move down your tummy to rest over your mound as you press sloppy circles into your clit. The tips of your nails catch against the matted hair at his base as he tilts his head to watch your debauched movements, feeling the way you begin to clamp down around him when he knows you’re about to cum.

"Enjin, I'm gonna— I'm cumming,” And you do— you cum hard.

And then he fucking loses it.

“Fuckin’ shit—” Enjin’s hips buck wildly as the last bit of resolve he’s been clinging to crumbles to nothing, “You little minx.”

As soon as he feels your walls begin to clamp down around him, he’s a goner. Eyes roll back into his skull as he spills thick white ropes of cum deep inside your unprotected cunt. His hips buck wildly as he’s lost to the pleasure, your walls eagerly milking him of all he’s got to give as he fucks his spend deeper inside you. Inside your ripe, fertile womb.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, shit.” He snarls, blunt painted nails dig into your hips as he holds you steady, emptying his balls inside you as he coats your insides. Leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to your pouty lips as he gives you every last drop, so much that it leaks down his shaft and balls and onto the sheets beneath you.

“This is your fault.” He groans as your thighs finally go lax, allowing him to slip his softening cock from your pulsing walls as he looks down between your thighs at the mess you made. He refuses to blame himself for this, especially when it’s all your fault.

It’s obscene. The way his cum drools out of your abused hole and trickles down towards your ass, pooling on the sheets between your legs as Enjin wonders how that’s all his. It can’t be, some of it has got to be you too. The creamy rings around the base of his cock evidence of your arousal as he leans down closer to spread your folds open with his thumbs. Watching intently as your stretched hole continues to pulse around nothing as it pushes more of his seed out.

“Enjin, don’t.” Your hips jerk when he presses two slender digits inside your entrance, shamelessly fucking his cum back inside you with his fingers as he scoops some up that drooled down towards your asshole. Next time he’d fuck you there so he doesn’t have to worry about you being all round and plump with his child— not that that would even be the worse thing in the world, he ponders. His spent cock already stirs to life at the thought, half hard and throbbing at the prospect as he settles himself lower. Wrapping his arms around your upper thighs as he presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your puffy clit.

“Fuck, I’m too sensitive.” You whine as he tongues your slit, following the trail of your release as he prods it inside your worn hole. Pushing it inside you to scoop out the globs of his release as he sucks it into his mouth, nose bumping your clit as your fingers immediately thread through his messy blond hair.

There’s just so much, he’s definitely going to have to take you to the Doctors the next morning he thinks. Nudging your clit with his nose as he adds a solo finger to join his tongue, scooping as much of his seed from your quivering hole as he can while he works you towards another climax.

“Enjin,” You cry out in bliss, toes curling as you gush around him. Trying to blink back the white spots that cloud your vision as he presses a few more sloppy kisses to your overstimulated sex, thankful that he’s managed to get most of his spend from your weeping hole although he’s certain it’s not enough.

Moving up your body to grip your jaw between his thumb and forefinger as he forces your mouth open, puckering his lips as he spits a mixture of spit and your combined release onto your tongue. Feeling the depraved mixture hit the back of your throat as you swallow it eagerly, tasting him on your tongue as desire begins to swirl in your abdomen once more. Noticing his cock is still half-hard and glistening with your slick as you reach down to wrap your palm around him, but Enjin’s reflexes are quicker as he catches your wrist in one hand.

“Don’t you dare,” He groans, “You’ve already got us into this much of a mess. We’re going to have to go to the Doctors first thing.”

“So,” You practically sing as Enjin flops down onto the worn mattress beside you with a huff, already knowing exactly where this is going, “If we have to go anyway, we might as well make the most of it.”

You’re already shifting beside him to swing your thigh over his hips to settle on top of him with a smug grin. His cock nestled below your warm heat as you drag yourself along the length of him, “Think about the money you’ll save on condoms.”

Yeah, and all the galla wasted on emergency contraception, Enjin groans internally.

Although his thoughts are swiftly forgotten the moment you wrap your hand around the base of him to sink yourself down on him inch by inch. Suddenly he’s not so angry that he got sold a dud condom, not when he feels the way your silky walls cling to every inch of him as you hit the base.

Yeah, it was worth it.

[opencommunion]

"What is this force, these human beings, referred to in this word – resistance? 

First, literally, we refer to the achievement of the poorest and most strategically disadvantaged people on the planet. Within the encircled and immiserated Gaza Strip, many of the Al-Qassam fighters are orphans. Amidst closure and de-development, the popular resistance has been able to consolidate an arsenal and bring 1.5% of its population into a guerrilla force of 30,000-40,000 men that can – man for man – outmatch nearly any in the world. 

The resistance, secondly, has alloyed ideological commitment, willingness to sacrifice for their people, and technological ingenuity into armed capacity capable of going head-to-head with a nuclear power from underground tunnels, the ‘rear base’ and physical strategic depth needed for guerilla insurgency. The concrete is their mountains. From there they have imperiled an enemy with orders of magnitude higher GDP per capita – Israeli GDP is at $52,000 a year, with arsenals worth billions.

Third, the resistance, in launching its October 7 operation, is an example to the world that post-Soviet asphyxiation and extermination procedures, sanctions and terror lists and aid-based countermeasures, could not prevent the rise of a disciplined and new national movement from raising its head to the sky. 

Fourth, the popular cradle brings the word resistance beyond armed men to doctors going to their deaths in lieu of abandoning their patients and women and men in the Gaza Strip’s North – facing white phosphorus rather than abandoning their homes. It is precisely the strength of the civilian commitment to the national project that provokes US-Israeli extermination: ‘the 'civilian' officials, including hospital administrators and school administrators, and also the entire Gaza population’ are, as a result, the targets – not out of cruelty but to break Hamas by breaking its cradle. 

Fifth, through these achievements, the Palestinian resistance has been able to present an acute threat to the settler-capitalist property structures called Israel, to militarized accumulation, to the world’s workshop for counterinsurgency technology, and to the entire architecture of regional repression with its associated petrodollar flows, treasury and security purchases, and arms merchandising. For capitalism is not just the smooth clockwork of accumulation through generalized commodity exchange and labor exploitation, it is the machinery of violence – its technology – which ensures the smooth running of the clock, the thingification of its human elements, the political decisions to maintain and rework the machinery of monopoly accumulation, and the waste of human lives which is increasingly the core Arab input into global capitalism. 

More worryingly from the perspective of monopoly power, the Palestinian resistance is not alone. It is part of a regional populist resistance enfolding the poorest people on Earth. ... It is unimaginable that the neocolonial authoritarian states nor their US benefactor would remotely tolerate massive working-class militia which speak a language of justice and republicanism and raise arms against those states’ sponsors. In turn, it is as natural as the sun rising in the East that the US, the UK, Germany, France, and their Gulf and Arab satraps would converge on support for Israel as the spear’s tip of the assault on the surrounding Arab popular militia. 

And because Israel is the keystone of the regional imperialist order – maintained not by hegemonic consensus but the brutality of Apaches and Merkavas – it is as natural as water falling from clouds that what has developed in the Gaza Strip, as soon as it mobilized politically and militarily, would incite the Western reaction to wipe it from the face of the Earth and impose unimaginable horror to terrify the Palestinian, Arab, and Third World people to never again raise their heads.

The October 7 operation has perhaps overcome the central role of the Israeli state in accumulation on a world scale: ingraining a state of defeat amongst the Arab working classes, as part-and-parcel of the post-Soviet ideological defeat imposed by capital upon labor globally. Deterrence is the form that defeat takes when pushed to the military plane, and Israel openly admits that its deterrence has been shattered.

Seen from this perspective, the risks run by the western capitalist states – their imposition of fascist regulation against freedoms of speech and assembly, their backing for genocide, their desperation to see the Palestinian armed militia wiped from the face of the Earth – is logical, reasonable, and rational in its sociopathy. It is the logic of monopoly attempting to defend itself and the consciousness which bodyguards it with fire from the sky. It is a logic which fills graveyards, and a logic which makes orphans, and it is a logic which might yet meet its end in that crossroads of continents – that salient, and city and their camps and their people."

[stomach-bugg09]

what about neteyam bringing home someone (romantic) and fali and y/n just teasing the shit out of them in front of the family😭😭

summary: [y/n] knows neteyam’s big secret.

a/n: okay i’m actually crying this is so short but so sweet. like not only does it embody fali and [y/n]’s dynamic , but it’s a strong example of how much [y/n] loves her baby siblings. she would do anything for them , despite how much she teases them. i hope you all enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing !! reblogs + feedback are always appreciated !!

tags: @rafeslovergirl @wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @hjkshshjkhklhkl @itssiaaax @grierpilots @fleurbeass @23victoria @nyotamalfoy

warnings: literally nothing, sm fluff, the cutest thing i have possibly ever written, healthy sibling relationships

words: 895 ( sorry y’all , it’s much shorter than i meant , but i didn’t wanna ruin it by adding too much !! )

baby brother’s got a girl

not once in her life could [y/n] have imagined any of her baby brothers bagging a girl.

sure, they had their father’s genes, but they also had their father’s stupidity, a trait that was communicated through their inability to woo any girl their age. trust me when i say that [y/n] has witnessed a multitude of failed attempts, especially back when they still lived in high camp.

as long as she knew her brothers, which was for about fourteen to sixteen years—roughly—she also knew they were a hot commodity based on their mere titles as the sons of the toruk makto. that always crashed and burned as soon as they talked due to the unfortunate fact that boys were just too awkward to flirt back.

that’s why [y/n] was absolutely floored when she found out lo'ak's attempts with tsireya were actually successful.

hey, she supposed. anything can happen in awa’atlu, right? i mean, i found love, which was thought impossible just a year ago.

but, there was a difference between impossible and just out of this goddamn world. it was just a few days ago that [y/n] realized, not only did lo’ak have a girl of his own, but neteyam did.

neteyam, of course, had no idea that [y/n] knew. he was trying to keep it a secret. only until they were, well, official past the mutual flirting stage. he also thought that he was being sly… he was not!

it was one night when, after neytiri and jake left to go meet up with some of the clan’s adults for some social thing ( the metkayina loved to party ), neteyam quietly tip-toed past where [y/n] laid stretched out on the ground, admiring the ceiling in complete and utter boredom.

“where are you going, bro?” [y/n] sat up with a grin.

he froze immediately, eyes closing in frustration. “uh, just… out.” neteyam slowly turned towards her with an innocent smile.

“out?” she questioned, eyes widening in amusement. when he only nodded, she pushed herself up off the ground, standing on her two feet. “so, this has nothing to do with ipey?”

“shit,” he cursed, head dropping in defeat.

“ahah!” [y/n] declared, pointing at him. at the sound of the rest of their siblings shifting in their sleep, she immediately quieted down. “ahah,” she repeated in a whisper.

“[y/n],” he bagged quietly, walking towards her and grabbing her shoulders. “please do not tell anyone. please!” neteyam pulled her in, nose to nose, and [y/n] had to keep herself from breaking into laughter. “i do not need mom and dad up my ass about this right now.”

[y/n] bit her bottom lip in amusement. “aw, poor baby boy and his private life.” neteyam only gave her an unamused look. “okay, okay!” [y/n] stepped backwards, hands raised in mock defense. “your secret’s safe with me.”

“thank you,” neteyam breathed out, relief flooding his voice.

“but!” he looked back up, eyes flaring in concern. “only if you don’t mind fali and me just… taking a casual stroll on the beach, maybe keeping an eye out for disobedient teenagers.”

“are you kidding?”

[y/n] only smiled. “not in the slightest!” at that, fali stepped out from the doorway where he’d been standing for the past few minutes to listen to the discussion.

“don’t worry, bud, we’re just gonna be out there to keep our favorite sully boy from doing anything gross.” fali grinned deviously.

at the same time that neteyam protested, “you are disgusting,” lo’ak’s voice called from where he slept. “hey!”

neteyam’s jaw-dropped at that. “now lo’ak knows?”

[y/n] only laughed. “oh, please, he already knew.”

“yeah!” he yelled from the back of the marui. “i’m the one who told [y/n] and fali in the first place.”

“he also told the rest of us,” kiri mumbled with a tired huff. tuk hummed in agreement.

neteyam dropped his head in defeat. “i hate all of you. like, every single one of you. so, so much.”

“aw, you don’t mean that, little brother!” [y/n] cried teasingly as he spun around and stomped out the door. “you love us!”

“stay safe, make good choices!” fali echoed, the couple laughing as he only shook his head, shoulders tense and full of annoyance.

they only watched from the dock as he made his way across the beach, disappearing once he turned the corner. [y/n] smiled from where she leaned against fali, his arm wrapped around her in comfort.

“you think he’s gonna be okay?” fali wondered quietly.

[y/n] only chuckled. “i hope so. i cannot handle a heart-broken neteyam. that would be, like, the worst thing in the entire world.”

“is it because you love your brother so much?” fali teased.

“uh, no,” she replied dryly. “it’s because i don’t want to deal with tears and snot.”

fali dropped her head back, letting out a loud stream of laughter at that. the vibrations of his chest sent a smile across [y/n]’s face, her body melting into his embrace even more.

“oh, please,” he whispered once he calmed down. “you would drop anything to make sure he’s okay.”

“i hate when you’re right.”

with that, he pressed a kiss on top of her head. “and yet, here we are.”

she nodded slowly, closing her eyes and leaning her head against him. “here we are.”

[lean-mean-demon-genevieve]

I’m not interested in defending celebrities, to be so for real, but I am interested in a crumb of whatever drugs this blogger is on. This kind of standom delusion must feel amazing. 💊💊

It’s so funny to me when stans go after each other and fail to realize that they are all engaging in the same kind of “Nuh-uh! That other side sucks the hardest because of all this very biased data I’ve compiled” type of arguing. I’m also not interested in warring with any stan blogs, but this was just so egregious and needed to be debunked. So let’s unpack:

Right off the bat, this blog has used the word tokenize incorrectly. This means to use someone as a symbol of inclusion or compliance with regulations, or to avoid the appearance of discrimination or prejudice.

I think they are intending to refer to the kids being a commodity to exploit in the overall branding of the family; that they are being objectified. And one only has to skim the Instagram feeds of Danneel and Gen to see which family is more heavy-handed. “Danneel’s entire Instagram use to be solely about that.”Based on what, exactly? Danneel’s very first post is of Jensen and JJ, yes, and her identity as wife and mother is (gasp) very much on display ever since. But…that’s to be expected, right?! After all, sharing those parts of their family life on socials is exactly the whole point and why anyone initially followed. It is that behind the scenes peek into the family lives of J2 that drew people in. It’s not as if either of these women has much of a fan base on their own and neither of them were acting at the time their IG accounts launched.

A quick side-by-side of the 2 accounts at about the same point in time (2017/2018) shows little differences in themes of content:

This blog further claims that “Genevieve and Jared are intelligently including their children where needed” and doing so in “genuine, selfless ways.” *snorts* At the time of this writing, Danneel has 458 posts and Gen has 1,833. Now, I didn’t review each post but the few tags I saw included in family photos were Disneyland and Warner Bros when they visited in recent years. I did not see multiple paid partnership ads featuring the Ackles children. I’m open to anyone proving me wrong, because by sheer volume my argument will still stand. In a random sampling of 2021, we have a string of posts of the Pada-kids that double as ads to varying degrees. Here are just a few examples:

Now you might say, “ok but these are products for children and families…that still seems pretty thoughtful.” Except that one need only scroll a little farther to see the kids included in brand deals for adult supplements, exercise gear, cleaning products, and even shampoo.

All of these products still fit in the “items that help me be a great mom” theme of the Now & Gen era, but this is still blatantly using images of the kids for profit in ways that the Ackles just have not done. What is shown here is just the tip of the iceberg and does not include the other attempts at branding on the failed Now & Gen blog or the YouTube vlog. So I’m not sure how the Pads have only used the kids “when needed” when this family was never going to go hungry without these endorsement deals.

Comparing the volume of likes on Gen’s IG posts that contain the children vs those that do not makes it seem likely that someone has been paying attention to the trends and has concluded that utilizing the children in ads has more earning potential. This is the current climate of social media marketing. These outcomes are in fact considered.

The idea that kids should be allowed to “earn money or have a brand” if they want is actually incredibly irresponsible. Protecting the safety of children that are a part of family content creation was a popular topic over the last year. There have been several examples of families who lost the plot in their efforts to market their children in order to achieve financial gain. What an asinine claim to make for children in general when Google is right there. And I love a link, so here’s a few: X, X, and X. It’s too early to definitively summarize the harm that the Pads might be causing their kids with all the exposure. Even when parents are not intentionally exploiting, their children are too young to consent to this type of “work.” Their brains are literally not developed enough to consider the long term pros and cons. All of this sets them up for potential harm, the risk of which makes none of this a need.

“What’s wrong are self-centered, clueless parents who only show off their kids to benefit off of a certain image.” (Pretending I can’t see the self-centered bit because woooo boy…Gen…😬) But aren’t both families posting photos of their kids to “benefit” off of their image of “family?” It’s baked into the Spn and even Walker marketing. The fandoms have been referred to as a family almost since their inception, so it only makes sense that fans were interested in the leads and their own growing families. Again, both families have benefitted but the Pads have benefitted all the way to the bank. And some Padalecki stans are quick to point this out as a win. If the above blog wants to congratulate Gen on her shrewd sense of business and use of capitalism, then that is a whole other thing and they should just come out and say that without making anyone out to be a saint.

One should take note that nowhere in here have I said that Danneel or Jensen are better people than anyone. I didn’t praise them for anything or proclaim their intentions are always pure of heart. How could anyone know that, except by virtue of the faith that comes along with extreme fandom? And that faith isn’t the same as screenshots, numbers, and patterns.

As always: Pedestals aren’t for people. Hold everyone accountable, even your faves. They will survive.✌🏼

[amandacanwrite]

Amanda Cessor • A Writeblr Intro

Hey everyone! I'm Amanda Cessor and I write historical fantasy and romance. I have words published in Merciless Mermaids (An Anthology,) Full Mood Mag, and I have my first novel coming out with Inked in Gray Press.

I'll be posting tips, essays, creative nonfiction and excerpts from my work here, as well as documenting the process of publishing my first book with a small, independent press. I hope we can be friends!

The Novel is called "With Love, Juniper" and the little elevator pitch is: Herbalist and witch Juniper, who suffers from severe social phobia, finds herself caught between the courtships of her oldest friend, Oleander, and handsome, influential stranger, Theo, while trying to deal with the expectations of her parents and the members of the small village she lives in.

I have entirely too many projects I'm currently working on, behold:

A Dawn Without Ashes -- Vampire Romance, Stand Alone (for now?)

Projected Word Count -- 100k

Setting

Fantasy Anachronistic 1920's vibes, in a land where Vampires rule and humans are seen as little more than a food source.

Synopsis

In Oubliette, Vampires rule from the shadows. Humans are considered pests at their worst, beloved pets at best. Orianna is the lowest of the low, an impoverished thief awaiting her sentencing after stealing coins to buy some food. When the charming Count Diable hand picks her as a commodity for his blood-brothel, she worries she has jumped out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.  

She has no idea how true that really is until she meets Atlas, Count of House Lune, darling of the Empress and and keeper of a secret that could change everything. Not only for her,  but for all of human kind.  

Of Foxes and Follies -- Fae Meets Peaky Blinders -- Trilogy

Projected Word Count -- 100k

Setting

Fictional version of Scotland, which I like to call Not!land and actually called Dimloch, around the 1910's or 1920's.

Synopsis

Rheannon Todd has a debt to pay. A debt she plans to pay by stealing from drunken guests at a Midsummer Soiree hosted by the notorious gangster known as The Magpie.

What she doesn't know is that The Magpie is more than just a charming card sharp with a penchant for cruelty. He's a member of the Unseelie Court and he doesn't much like being stolen from.

The Hallowed Wilds -- Serial on Hiatus -- Grounded Romantasy

Setting

Pseudo Appalachian small town in the 1840's.

Synopsis

Ezra lives near a mysterious forest called The Wilds. People who go in there tend to not come out, but even as a boy he feels drawn to the strange place. One day, when his parents are out, he sneaks into The Wilds and meets Aurelia, a strange, beautiful witch who has lived in the forest since she was born.

What starts as a beloved childhood friendship develops into a star crossed love over the years. The fear in the village and the brutality of the witches in the forest threaten to tear them apart.

Currently on Hiatus, but you can read about 60k of it here!

Red Skies -- Standalone Novel -- Pirate Romantasy

Projected Word Count -- 100k

Setting

Psuedo Imperial open world around the 18th Century.

Synopsis

Cordelia Shurka will do anything to provide for her family. She's worked herself to the bone since she was a child to keep the house afloat after her father vanished from their lives. When things get too hard, though, she seeks to raise her station by marrying herself to the viceroy. It seems an easy trade, her utter devotion and obedience in exchange for finally having the security she so desperately wants.

On her wedding day, the thinks she's finally out of the woods. That is until handsome pirate, Edric Davenport steals her for himself.

Want Updates?

If you happen to be interested in getting updates on any of these projects, you can join my tag list here!

[yarru]

I like to make fun of the pop up ads of the early 90s and 2000s. They were intrusive, ridiculous, and really worked off the model of "if we flood everyone's screen with ads *someone* is bound to click on one."

We learned how to block those ads. And yeah then came more. Mobile game ads are atrocious, but you can usually buy the game to get rid of them. Website ads suck, but you can get an ad blocker. If people know something is an ad, someone is going to find a way to block them.

But how do I block an ad when the ad is a person?

I don't really use Tik Tok anymore because things have just been feeling... off? A little too curated. A little uncanny valley for genuineness.

If I see a Tik Tok of a cute "candid" moment, I don't know if it took 90 takes to make. If I admire a cool indie artist for making short films in their basement, I don't know if they secretly have a full-ass production team behind them. When the person teaching me tips to clean my kitchen suddenly starts to push their viewers towards a specific product... I don't know if it's to get a sponsorship or not.

I hate questioning every single human interaction I see online as a possible marketing scheme. Even if the goal at first is clout, clout is a commodity that can be turned into money. And corporations know that.

I feel like we never left the era of having our screens bombarded with those comically intrusive ads. Except now instead of the ads being a bunch of boxes on your screen, the ads are the intimate lives of people.

And to be clear, this does not include sponsored videos. When a content creator tells me they can only fund their videos by playing an ad, I get it.

But if I don't know it's an ad, how the hell am I supposed to block it?

(Also side note: this does not include small businesses trying to promote themselves! Self-promotion is great and I love seeing that shit on my dash!)

[digitalk24]

Maximizing Returns in the Stock Market: A Guide to Trading Tips

Introduction

Investing in the stock market can be a lucrative endeavor, but it also comes with its fair share of risks and uncertainties. To navigate this complex financial landscape successfully, traders often rely on various strategies and tips. In this article, we will explore some essential trading tips, including stock cash tips, index option tips, BTST (Buy Today, Sell Tomorrow) trading, stock future tips, and intraday trading tips, to help you make informed decisions and maximize your returns.

Stock Cash Tips

Stock cash tips, also known as equity cash tips, are recommendations provided by financial experts or advisory firms to help traders make informed decisions when trading in the equity or cash segment of the stock market. These tips typically include information about which stocks to buy or sell in the short or long term.

To make the most of stock cash tips:

Research the recommended stocks thoroughly.

Diversify your portfolio to manage risk.

Stay updated with market news and events.

Index Option Tips

Index option tips are specifically designed for traders interested in options trading within stock market indices like the S&P 500 or Nifty 50. Options provide traders the right, but not the obligation, to buy or sell an index at a predetermined price.

To benefit from index option tips:

Understand the basics of options trading.

Analyze market volatility.

Set clear entry and exit strategies.

BTST Trading (Buy Today, Sell Tomorrow)

BTST trading is a popular strategy where traders buy stocks today and sell them the following trading day. This approach is well-suited for those who anticipate short-term price movements and want to capitalize on them.

To succeed in BTST trading:

Identify stocks with potential for short-term gains.

Monitor market trends and news closely.

Set stop-loss orders to limit losses.

Stock Future Tips

Stock future tips are recommendations that focus on trading in futures contracts. Futures contracts are agreements to buy or sell a specified quantity of a particular stock at a predetermined price and date in the future.

To make the most of stock future tips:

Understand the mechanics of futures trading.

Analyze technical and fundamental factors.

Use risk management tools to protect your capital.

Intraday Trading Tips

Intraday trading involves buying and selling stocks within the same trading day. It requires a keen understanding of market trends, technical analysis, and quick decision-making.

To excel in intraday trading:

Develop a robust trading strategy.

Use technical indicators for entry and exit points.

Keep emotions in check and stick to your plan.

Conclusion

Successful trading in the stock market requires a combination of knowledge, discipline, and the right strategy. Stock cash tips, index option tips, BTST trading, stock future tips, and intraday trading tips are valuable tools that can help you make informed decisions and maximize your returns. However, it's crucial to remember that no tip or strategy guarantees success, and the stock market always carries inherent risks. Therefore, always do your research, manage your risk, and stay updated with market developments to make the most of your trading journey.

 click here for more details:

[ohtobeleah]

Hi leah! I just found your strictly scandalous drabbles and I am panting! Woof! If you are taking requests, could you write a sequel to bob x reader x hangman polaroid one? The little hint at something more at the very end has me on my tippy toes !

I also loved the hungman one btw 😘

Ah yes, the much anticipated sequel to this bad boy. Please I beg you 🙏 save me from hell.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Bob had sat you down in the shared living room of the dorms on base when he broke the news that Jake had not only gone through his stuff, but he’d stolen the polaroids of you. “Bob! We have to get them back!” You stood to your feet, panic rushing through your body as your heart raced in embarrassment–but when you actually went to leave? Bob was gripping at your wrist pulling you back down into his lap. “What are you doing? We have to get them back before–”

“I already got them back.” Bob admitted and you felt an instant wave of relief wash over you. “But not in exchange for nothing.” He couldn't even look at you, couldn't face you when Bob had to tell you what he’d agreed to in order to get your pictures back. He wasn't proud of it, but it seemed like the most tolerable idea out of the several options Hangman had given him.

“What don't I know–?” You asked softly, tipping Bob chin up so he’d face you, look you in the eye and hopefully tell you something that wasn't gut churning or hard to hear. “Bob honey, it's okay–you can tell me.”

“Hangman wants to watch next time I take pictures of you.” It physically stung when Bob had told you what the exchange had been. “And I said yes because out of everything he suggested it was the most mundane of them all.”

“Having you take Boudoir Photographs of me doesn’t extend out to Jake fucking Seresin!” You hissed as you pushed yourself out of Bob's lap. “God are you kidding me, Robert!” Oh, fuck–he really was in trouble. Bob hadn’t been called Robert since his mother had schooled him last for not separating the whites from the darks when doing his laundry. “I'm not some commodity that can be traded! I'm a person, with real fucking feelings and I'm not comfortable with this!”

“Before you rip Bob's head off–” Jake's voice echoed through the living room as he leaned on the wall, arms crossed over his chest. How long had he been watching? “He wasn't all that up for sharing either.”

“Get the fuck out of here Hangman before I break your fucking nose.” It wasn't a threat Jake took lightly as he approached you slowly, holding his hands up in surrender. “And how fucking dare you take those pictures! They weren't yours!” It was more embarrassment than anything taking–because deep deep down? There was something so hot about the fact Jake had taken them. It wasn't to anger Bob or piss you off–although they were added bonuses. Jake took the polaroids because he thought you were incredibly attractive for someone he thought had never touched a man in her entire life.

“Can you really blame me?” Hangman taunted as he stood toe to toe with you, tilting your chin up to match his gaze as he looked down on you slightly. “My favorite was the one of you in the men's locker room getting off with the shower head–bet I could do a better job if you gave me the chance?” You couldn’t fucking breathe, there was no way Jake was doing this right in front of Bob. “I bet Bob here wouldn't mind taking a pretty little picture of you withering away under my touch.”

“I said you could be present, I didn't say you could touch her Seresin.” That's when Bob stood up, stepping between you two as he came to your defense. “That's the deal, you’d sit in the corner and keep your mouth shut, that's what we agreed on.”

“How’s about it Vee?” Jake grinned as he waited for you to agree. “How about a front-row seat?” It wasn't that you were okay with it entirely, perhaps you needed a few nights to sleep on it–but there really was a part of you that found it fucking hot that Jake was so obsessed with you he wanted to see what went on behind closed doors when Bob did an x-rated Boudoir shoot with you.

“You can look but you can't touch.” That's all Hangman needed to put his plan to fuck you into place. Grinning ear to ear as he stuck his hand out for you to shake.

“Deal.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

When the day had finally come–Jake stayed true to his word. Well, for the most part anyway. For the first half of the shoot, he watched with a hard on the the size of Mt fucking Evertest as you touched yourself, clad in Bob’s pick of lingerie. The more you thought about it? The more you tolerated the idea when you thought about being in lingerie–not completely exposed.

“That’s nice baby– touch your neck for me, yeah?” Bob instructed you as you spread your legs a little more as you held the pretty black vibrator against your lingerie-clad clit. Choking yourself as Bob zoomed in–capturing you for all you were worth as he laid flat on the carpet of his dorm. Snapping away. “Just like that, wanna see you cum.”

For the most part, you could ignore Hangman's presence as he sat on Bob's bed, completely entranced by your beauty as you softly moaned out Bob’s name and worked yourself towards an orgasm just so he could take a pretty picture of the moment and keep it forever.

“Can I suggest something?” Jake's voice nearly startled you as he slid off Bob's bed, crawling towards you before dragging you forward by your ankles so he could slide in behind you. “Don't worry, I'm not trying any funny business Bobby boy, just trying to help you capture the moment.”

“Make it quick–” You groaned as you shuffled forward a little more as Jake slid in beside you. “I was really close.”

“Trust me.” was all Hangman growled as he keeled behind you, pulling you back by your shoulders so your back was flush against his thighs. You could feel his hard-on pressing against the back of your neck. “Do you trust me, Vee?” You wanted to say fuck no–but you found yourself nodding as you went back to working the vibrator against your swollen core as Jake wrapped his hand around your neck. His exposed lower abdomen was barely in the shot as your jaw slacked and Bob took the shot.

“That looks awesome, Jake–just cup her breast really gently for me.” You’d tuned out to what the reality of the situation was. Your boyfriend was directing Jake fucking Seresin to touch you in ways you never wanted another man to touch you. But coming from Bob? It felt so right, it felt so powerful and it felt so good as Jake slid his hand down the valley of your chest–doing exactly what Bob had instructed.

“Like this?” Jake cooed as he squeezed over the top of your lingerie–making you shiver under his touch as you turned up the power on your vibrator.

“Perfect–” Bob was being extra careful not to capture Jake's face in any of the polaroids that fell from the bottom of his camera. “Stay like that until Y/n cums.” Jake tightened his grip on your throat as you tensed up, your breathing had increased to something beyond rapid as you coaxed yourself towards a high. “Come on baby, you look so pretty–doesn't she Hangman?”

“Just the prettiest.” It had surely been the praise that sent you over the edge. As Jake and Bob tandomed praising you with sweet nothings you felt yourself giving over to the tsunami that was your orgasm. Bob was laser focused as he captured you in the state you were in— your jaw slack as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Thighs trembling.

“Ohhhhh fffuuuggghhhh—“ You sounded like an angel, Jake swore he’d never heard a more beautiful sound. Arousal dripped from your cunt, seeping into your panties as you collapsed into Hangman who shared a look with Bob who just shrugged and continued taking photos. As much as he hated to admit it? Bob was capturing you in a way he’d never seen before and it was turning him on to new extremes.

“So, I have another idea—if you're down?” Unbeknownst to you and Bob, this had been Jake's plan all along. To wiggle his way into the picture just enough to take over and manipulate the situation in his advantage.

He wanted his own Polaroids of you—not that he hadn't taken photos of the ones he originally stole from Bob on his phone. He’d never jerked off to someone as perfect as you. He’d admit Robert Floyd was a lucky man but fuck he didn’t know how to handle a woman like you—no way no how.

Not only did Jake want his only Polaroids of you, but he wanted to taste you, he wanted to fuck you. He wanted to show you just what he could do to you—but he needed to crawl before he could run.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

It was an experience you thought you’d never be able to check off your 2023 bingo card—Bob was positioning you just right. His hands guided yours to where he wanted them.

“So good for me baby, just want you to look up at Jake with those doe eyes I know you’ve got yeah?”

“Like what you see darlin?” Jake taunted as he looked down at you, you were down on your knees for him. As he beamed a shit eating grin at you—the grip his hand had in your hair only tightened to pull a reaction right out of you.

“Ahhh—“ You hissed as Jake twitched in your hand, you were palming him off through his boxer briefs. Again, Bob saw no identifying features of you nor Jake for only a few shots. He was preemptively preparing for the conversation he knew he’d be having after this was over. Jake would want his own polaroids. If Bob had the share Jake wasn’t getting any with your face in it. Or his for that matter. “Kinda feels like you like what you see too.”

“Vee, I’m fucking mesmerised.” Jake was honest as you slowly but surely slipped your hand into his briefs. Bob snapped away as he surged you through whatever thought process you were having.

“Nice baby, whatever you wanna do I’m okay with—so long as you’re comfortable.” You knew things would be complicated after this, but your inner self wasn’t holding you back. You wanted to explore, experience whatever this was that was being handed to you on a silver platter.

“Yeah Vee, so long as you're comfortable.” Looking up at Hangman through your lashes, you kissed up the side of his shaft. It drew an audible groan that was so deep and prolonged from the depths of his chest out of him. “Shit, you know what you’re doing after all.”

As you shifted your lips to wrap around Jake's tip, Bob kept snapping away, he’d surely be out of film soon—but he wasn’t missing a single moment of this. Perhaps he was into Voyeurism, because he’d never been so hard before. Palming himself off while he took polaroid after Polaroid if you sucking Jake Seresin off.

“Uuhhh fughh Y/n you nasty little bitch.” Jake had accepted the fact this might be all he gets tonight, not wanting to push the limit too far. He’d play his cards right and reel you into the idea of fucking him eventually. With or without Bob present. But for now? He’d settle for the way you were taking him inch by inch into your throat. Gaging as he shoved himself a little further down with a little force.

“Watch it Seresin, that’s still my girl you’ve got your hands on there.” Bob warned from behind his camera as you pulled away with a gasp. Teary eyed and a string of saliva connecting your lips to Jake's tip.

“Just such a pretty little mouth, I couldn’t help myself.” Jake winked as he tilted your chin upwards. “You aren’t gonna not finish me off are you?” He raised the question and you remained silent, not wanting to give Hangman the satisfaction of a verbal answer. Instead you just took him back in your mouth. Bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you worked to suck him dry. “Ahhh yes that’s right Vee, suck my fucking cock.”

Bob was growing increasingly concerned that this was getting a little out of hand. As he snapped his last polaroid, he looked up and saw he was nearly out of film.

“I’m outta film Hangman, sessions over—“

“God, give me like ten more seconds.” He groaned as he took control of your head, his hands cupping your cheeks and fisting into your hair as he face fucked you. Gags echoing off the walls before a final primal moan escaped Jake as he pulled out and held your head back, jerking off to paint your face.

Bob just couldn’t resist using his last snap on such a sight. God you looked so pretty. Coated in cum.

“Come by my dorm with a few of those will ya Bobby?” Jake asked as he leaned in to lick a strip of his load from your cheek. “And make sure you call me when you actually wanna fuck Darlin.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

#Strictlyscandalous Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

[getawaycr]

once, i had an empire in a golden age. i was held up so high, i used to be great. they used to cheer when they saw my face now, i fear i have fallen from grace.

In the opulent world of New York City's elite, where fortunes are built and dynasties are solidified over generations, the hidden struggles behind the façade of wealth and privilege are bursting at the seems. Fourteen prominent families hold the keys to the kingdom, each with their own unique and storied legacy of accumulating vast wealth and influence within different industries while simultaneously grappling with the shadows that lurk within their gilded lives. As the elder generations of these families age and relinquish control, the younger heirs step into positions of power, bringing with them a wave of new conflicts and alliances. Against a backdrop of family feuds, legal battles over trust funds, sham adoptions, and even murder accusations, the glittering exterior of their opulent lives conceals a labyrinth of secrets and betrayals.

once i was the great hope for a dynasty. crowds would hang on my words, and they trusted me. their faith was strong, but i pushed it too far. i held that grudge 'til it tore me apart.

A tipping point has recently hit the presses: a highly publicized engagement between two of the wealthiest families, a union that promises to create a financial powerhouse capable of reshaping the landscape of high society. Triggering a cascade of events that will no doubt unravel the delicate balance of power among the other influential families, suspicion and intrigue mount as old alliances crumble, and clandestine agreements are forged behind closed doors while everyone attempts to navigate a world where loyalty is a rare commodity and every move is scrutinized. As the once unshakeable foundations of these powerful dynasties begin to crumble, those involved are forced to weave through the intricate tapestry of familial bonds and expose the vulnerabilities that lie beneath the surface of their grand estates and glittering galas.

smoke billows from my ships in the harbor. people look at me like i'm a monster. now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name, now they're screaming that they hate me.

Castles Crumbling is an upcoming Jcink semiprivate roleplay for roleplayers 18+, taking place in New York City and following fourteen families of the wealthy and elite. The site will be canon only with over 225 canons available, featuring a linear plot following the families from the canon list as they clamor for success within high society. The site is loosely inspired by Succession, Game of Thrones, olympian mythology, Big Little Lies, Billions, American Gods, House of Cards, and other sources of media following high society and court intrigue. We will be semiprivate with limited character counts per player, focusing on weaving intricate stories with one another in a safe and collaborative environment.

We are currently searching for staff! For more information, our FAQ, and to apply to staff, visit the following Google form: https://forms.gle/qGdwcmRbkKgKuuA39

[helloescapist]

I'm so sorry to send another request so soon, especially since my other one hasnt even been answered yet, but I got an idea recently too good to pass up. That doesn't mean you have to do it soon, you can do it whenever you want. But basically, heres the idea:

Headcanons of Gyutaro (KNY) and (Michi) Reader's reincarnations in the modern world still living with congenital syphilis, but this time they become close friends instead of enemies? Like, they still get targeted for their condition, but despite that, support and help each other through the dark times?

Basically a sequel of sorts to Parallell Paths

I love this! I love this! I love this!

Converging Paths | Gyutaro

Word Count: 4284

Setting: modern!Gyutaro x gn!reader (platonic)

Content Warning(s): mentions of psoriasis, child neglect, abuse

Summary: an unlikely meeting between former opponents.

A/N: due to the modern world’s perinatal care, congenital syphilis is not as likely to occur in the majority of first-world countries such as Japan, I’ve opted for a non-specific skin condition as there are a number of conditions that can easily be confused for syphilis (and an attached stigma) to express a more modern experience.

Fresh and earthy, the crips scent that carried the impending summer weather touched upon the breeze that drifted between the slips of sheer curtains. Rolled with each breeze, touched upon citrus, and unnamed flowers, small touches of salt that carried upon the light air. Air that pressed against your skin, the small touch of sweat that threatened its way through your bangs, as the scent of bamboo caught upon your nose. Warmed your breast and dampened the mundane task of paddling the musk from classroom. Stroke the fibers one against another, paused breaths as the fine dust formed clouds upon the drafted classroom air.

The small respite of a breeze that greeted the crept of the windows, pressed between fingers that grasped upon the panes. Locked at the tips, as your classmates greeted the summer day. Small clips of commodity pressed between giggles, squeezed into the idle chatter from behind you as the distinct stifled yawns caught on the edge of another. Your own gaze drifted at the task of hand; nose slightly wrinkled at the press of the coarse material between your fingers. Stale, and uninterested in entertaining the gossip of the remaining assigned cleaning crew. Chatter that spewed latest gossips, delighted in rumors of recent lovers, cooed over split pairings, tossed in flirtatious remarks, and purred wishful encounters. The humdrum of junior high school girls fantasizing of unlikely rendezvous unremarkable amongst the drifting summer day. Routine and mundane expected as the small hushed utters that had fallen as you rolled up your sleeves, subjecting yourself to the task at hand as well as the murmurs that passed between clasped hands.

Though the school year had passed without incident, the consistent shuffling of those assigned club activities, cram schools, and drawn repeated rough drafts had ensured your cleaning companions were rarely repeat classmates and remained subjected to the onslaught of pressed smiles. Murmurs whispered at the catch of the bumps that kissed at your flesh, splattered amongst your skin in abstract formations. Raised edges of blossomed bumps that met the day’s air, less inflamed than the remainder of patches touches of salmon that dipped into shades of China rosed. Agitated hues of carmine red and blistered at the scrape of your school uniform that clasped at your elbows, the scratch of the collar pinned and aching.  Dry and irritable abrasions that littered your forearms, the depths of your condition had always surprised your peers despite the notable fall of scars that lined your cheeks, touched beneath your eyes as though the fallen beauty of spring, succumbed petals of winter seared into your skin.

              The hush of the girls piercing and low, small, pressed whispers amongst each other. One that expressed concerns, questioned your condition and ability to complete the chore of cleaning the chalkboard and erasers. While the disgust met the other girl’s, clear and reprimanding recoiled her willingness to offer further interactions. Openly berating the kindness of her friend for the harrowing realities such conditions could bear, hissed well intended warnings to her confidant, insisted horrors of shared medical conditions. Bore similarities to the ostracizing of lepers, uneducated disgusted dripped in fears of unfamiliar circumstances.

The small sigh pressed between your lips as your eyes met at the sleeve rolled to your elbow as your worked in discomfort. The tip of her voice tainted with repugnance though you had known all too well that her ire was born of miscomprehension. Drawn in silence, pressed at your lips, whispered the small touch of a bitter smile. All too familiar and understandable. The pressed smiles of customer service employees who did their best to maintain a professional air between close encounters; mothers who hushed manners and disbursed their children’s inquiries. The shock of would-be suitors whose attraction and devotion changed at a moment’s notice. Confusion and ill ease, fears born of contamination, admirers distraught at your growing disfigurement as they mourned your delicate features. The sympathies of the educated, melancholy smiles that shattered with pity. Though you knew all too well your classmate’s concerns and understood all too well that it was born of fear, but the pain that it bore was all too familiar as you allowed soft sigh to release between your lips, your shoulders to relax, as you scrubbed the board.

              “Oi, Takahashi, take a look at this,” Morita hummed, fingers pressed against a cloth between the windowpanes, having slid the windows in his duties. Dark eyes drew forward the tilt of his head, beckoning his friend forward.

One of the few reoccurring encounters you had had in the school year, Takahashi nonchalant in his interactions with you lent itself to the bored yawn he tucked not his hand. Disconcert at the tilt of his own head, eyes that found the courtyard. “Hmm?” Mused and jaded as the stale gaze as his brown eyes fluttered out the window. “Geez, you think he’d just ignore them.” The sigh pressed and sympathetic at the toss of his head.

“How can he? They never leave him alone,” Morita sighed, shaking his head.

“Hey, [LN],” Takahashi waved you over, “do you know this guy, you know with—well…” small gesture that wiggled over his own cheeks. Absolutely lacking in any situation awareness despite the dig of Morita’s elbow in his side.

Gestured to the windows, the sigh evident on your breath shaking your head, placed the erasers to the board before allowing your uwabaki to scrap against the flooring. Heavy foot that bore your unwillingness to endure whatever drama the school yard to drudge up for entertainment. Hand against the window seal fingers touched upon the warm glass at the scene before you. Four third years considering the size difference against one second year, the small details of their school motifs, a small indicator of their class year. The older boys standing a bit taller, the jostle of their laughter crude and near unbearable.

Mocking, and antagonizing, taunting that drew inspiration from the lower classman’s physical. Small gestures of drawing attention to the under dog’s facial features. Another upperclassmen, Okada from 3D if you remembered correctly—a real ass slumped over, as if to mock the natural dip of the boy’s shoulders that folded down. The tuck of his head, the small of his chin sharp from what you could tell as it dipped to his collar bone. Bones that met at joints, skin that plunged into the gaps, wary and tired as it endured the weight of its own skeleton. Muscles that strained, rocked from heel to heel, the dip of thin, spindle fingers that caught at his elbows. Tucked into himself, paper-thin eyelashes that attenuated round eyes. Sunken inwards, exhausted, and warn down. Trembled lips that caught on jagged teeth, the junior high boy anxiously surveying the older boys, searching for an escape. The touch of nervous chartreuse eyes that strayed, averted gazes, and jumbled at the clear snip of a voice that wrangled from his bones.  A mop of hair that captured a spring bud’s emerging warmth, touched upon a shade only pears could envy. Hs voice graveled, and nervous, the small reveal of anger beginning to furrow. Purce flesh bumped against abrasion. The litter of corrosion, rashes, and bumps that marred his complexion gave way to scars. “Shabana, Class 2C,” Morita sighed sympathetically. The met of his eyebrows as he shook his head, “poor guy really knows how to attract them.”

Shabana’s clumsy steps drawn backwards, shattered at the back of the schooling as your eyes followed the scene through the second-floor window. The snippets of conversation leave little to the imagination—it would appear the second year had made the mistake of growing brave in the past week. The staunched remarks a common form of entertainment for the upperclassmen, was unappreciative of the sudden growth of character of their target, called into action the audacity of the boy daring to retort back to his senpais, now corralled the mid classman as though he were livestock. Flanked from all sides, jeers, and taunts open and available with only onlookers offering sympathetic regards. None daring to impart intervention nor step their foot into the affairs-- Okada was notorious for his fowl temper, a junior high student that stood a near foot taller than everyone else. The rumor mill had circulated him for some time, murmured mentions of gang activity, others depicted that he had been held back (not that you would be surprised, he lacked any form articulation, and his grades were…), and the occasional swore that he was in fact a grown man with a wife and child at home masquerading as a junior high student. Yet, there was a quiver in Shabana’s bones, the nervous ache that met a small snarl, a pup with a little bite left to bear. “Take it back,” he growled, his eyebrows quivering as they met the height of his sunken state. “Take back what you said about Ume, now.”

“Ha,” the grin blossomed across Okada’s features. Met at a crude state, snickered shamelessly. Eyes that met his lackeys with a scoff, “nah, little bastard. Everyone here knows what a slut your little sister is, it’s only a matter of time before she’s screaming my name.”

The crack was shattering. Cracked knuckles, threatened to shatter on contact. The snarl undeniably, suddenly dripped with distain. Tainted in wrath and coiled as a snake that threatened to strike a second blow furrowed at the gnash of his jagged teeth rolled in the sway of his collar bone and uneven at the rock of his bones. “I said. TAKE IT BACK.” Rolled at the sway of interlopers, Okada’s features morphed and surprised. The bruising already beginning to set. The odds of four against one as clear as the track of the window wretched open beneath your hands, and the memories that flooded your senses. Drew you backwards, as though stepped through time, through memories left in another life, your reaction no longer your own, but of a ghost who guided your movements as you slipped out the second floor window.

His head hurt. His head, really hurt. The ache across his cranium came in waves, thundered against the cap of his skull. Slammed as though he had rattled his brain, his teeth shook with each breath as his thin eyelashes batted lazily. His thoughts felt jumped, Gyuutarou struggled to grasp his surroundings. Grappled with his cognition, the faint recollections… a fight? No? Ah wait, there had been something. He had been made, madder than he had been in a long time. The last time he could recall being dragged to the depths of such hatred had been at the hands of one of his mother’s temporary flings, and before that… Who had it been?

The press of memories, small and insignificant in away he could not grasp. The mangle of chartreuse hair, jaundice in appearance. Sickly and deformed, jagged teeth dipped in blood. Revenged as a nightmare amongst the night sky—no, it wasn’t that he could not recall. When he squeezed his eyes, when his conscious threatened to fade to sleep, when his mother had slapped him harder than expected, or the shake of her boyfriend enough to rattle his teeth—there were glimpses. Fleeting. Small recollections of a battle, of morbid curiosities and a misplaced soft smile that met his blade. A tender smile, soft and understanding, far more connected than a stranger passing on the street, but in his entire life, he had never been able to place whose smile it had belong to, and to be greeted with the faint recollection dipped into his groggy state as his yellow-green eyes traced the clouds above, it left a gnawing impression. Ume, that’s right. He had gotten his ass handed to him.

            Gyuutarou needed to get up; he knew this. Knew his little sister was likely waiting for him at the school gates, if she had not already gone home to prepare dinner. He could feel the crack of dried blood that met his pursed lips—he needed to wash up. Needed to scrub all evidence of the scuffle from his complexion. It was something, he couldn’t quite put in to words. Displaced understanding, but ah, it may have been the concussion forming at his temple. The touch of the blades of grass beneath his hands, it had always been this way, or at least so he thought. Some small touch of a promise, a soft smile—he didn’t want Ume to see him this way. He wanted to grow, to ensure they left their mother’s dingey apartment. College, Gyuutarou wanted his little sister to go to college. The crushing sigh that slipped between his lips.

            “Awake?” your voice resonated in his ears. Soft, curious, but its sudden intrusion left him off center. Nervous. Drew him from his laid-back position. Shocked and furrowed, back arched as an irritated, cautious cat that threatened to yowl.  Positioned to his side, unbothered by the pass of day to night. The quiet of the school yard, students slipped home from clubs, bid farewell to friends and retreated to home. The touch of a popsicle between your lips as you peeked at him curiously, “You’ve been out for a few hours.”

Nonchalant and smooth, pressed between the blue popsicle. Comforted against summer, allowing your fingers to rummage across the remainder of the package. Procuring its partner and probing it forward. Offering to share. The littler of your scars at the high of your cheeks, the soft gaze of your eyes as your eyes met their own. Blisters that formed marred the soft roundness of your cheeks. Dainty features that would draw the envy of his mother, and furrow of his sister. Black hair as luminous as spilled ink, and thick eyelashes could make a mockery of any doll. The small press of the popsicle, as he cautiously eyed the offering before allowing you to press the stick between his fingers. His eyes left to wander from the treat, back to you, and back again. Confused? Was it his head? No, no this was weird, odder was the touch of nostalgia. The touch of peace that threatened to dull his senses, whispered comfort and reassurance in a way he could not trace. Nor comprehend. The frayed edges of his nerves slipping from his fingertips oblivious to the way the corner of his mouth caught at the kind offer. Drew forth a shy smile, as his eyes traced the popsicle given by a complete stranger.  “It appears not much has changed in 200 years.”

            Gyuutarou Shabana could feel his soul quiver. As though a broken piece of himself had been set to a flame, vibrated in a frequency unheard amongst any other as his eyes met your own. Shattered memories. Mashed together, slowly than quickly. Rattled his consciousness, slammed his bones, left his thoughts reeling. As though it were a track that threatened to skip. Small snippets as though a movie tape that had been torn from its hinges. Scenes of blood, of battered bones, shattered ribs, reeked of lavish perfumes, and the soft glow of a smile that met his gaze. Recollections slowly glued back together as the soft glow of your smile upon him once more, just as it had so many years ago.

 “But I have to say… Oni-chan, you look beautiful when you smile.”

Modern Day Headcanons | Gyuutarou Shabana

Since reincarnating, Gyuutaro has tried his hardest to turn things around. He has done his best to ensure that Ume is raised properly this time around, but that doesn’t mean that the stars have aligned for him.

Once again, fates have left him in a neglectful mother’s care. One who would opt to entertain her current boyfriend, even if it means abandoning her children to their own devices for weeks on end. The earliest back he can recall being left to fend for Ume and himself was when he was only six years old. Terrified and doing his best to cook packaged ramen on the stove using his step stool. His mother had sold the microwave to chase her addiction.

He caught on early on through his school education, that what a mother was, or what a mother should be was not what he had been given, and though he was little and could not understand the abuses he endured, and often faced at the flare of her temper, or those of her most recent fling, some small part of Gyutaro clung to the faint reminders of a soft smile.

In the hopes that one day, someone might smile for him like those of his memories.

So, he pressed forward.

Gyutaro continued to get rise early every morning even in his first years of elementary to prepare Ume for the day. He would wake up long before his little sister’s alarm went off, crept throughout the small run down apartment for fear of waking his mother, and gather small breakfast items together.

Then, he would wake his sister, brush her hair, do his best to style it in a way she liked he melted with pride when she delights in her hairstyle. Gyutaro helps dress her, and often if she’s too tired from listening to their mother’s arguments with her supposed lovers, he would carry her to the babysitter before taking off for school.

Skipped meals to be able to buy her a birthday cake.

When she entered elementary school, he realized that all of the other children had bentos lovingly packed by their parents. Up until now, he simply skipped lunch to ensure he had money for Ume. So, he set to work doing his best to clumsily peel apples, cook rice, and pack lunch. It- It wasn’t cute at first, and at one point he felt a deep sense of shame before wandering back to the babysitter who had cared for Ume all of those years, a little granny in the neighborhood before asking her to teach him.

He swallowed his little pride.

Ume never cared how messy her lunches were, she would punch any kid in the face who said anything about her brother’s bentos.

His skin condition is miserable, without proper care, Gyuutarou has been left to suffer the symptoms of his condition. He’s often itchy, blistered, and his bones ache, but he has never allowed Ume to catch him feeling this way.

His mother never prioritized taking care of him, and so, Gyuutarou simply did his best with the basic hygiene knowledge he acquired through television cartoon shows, and remedies offered by the school nurse. At night when Ume is already in bed, he will slip out frozen cooked rice to place on his recent flare ups for just a moment of peace.

As you can imagine, even in the modern era, Gyuutarou has not lived an easy life, but he clings to the small snippets of a memory, one in which a stranger smiles at him, and another person sought better for their sister. He tells himself he can do it too.

He’s clinging.

As a child, Gyuutarou is… well, he’s what you would expect as a child of abuse and impoverish areas. He’s quite, withdrawn from his peers. Any opportunity to connect to others is nearly snubbed out, and as his flareups began to occur with no medical care, his isolation hit a peak. He grew accustomed to his classmates either pretending he didn’t exist, or prayed they would forget him.

Frequently a victim of bullying.

Did his best to hide his face when he would pick Ume up from school, worried he would embarrass her.

A really, really sweet kid who just wanted attention. Clung to the first teacher who gave him attention. Regularly continues to greet them, even after he has long since left their class.

Really, he tends to cling to anyone who showed him any attention, or kindness in his youth. Routinely greets Ume’s old babysitter, has really just adopted her as his old grandma.

Let’s be honest, no matter how good of a friend you are, Ume and Gyuutarou have hit a delinquent era in their later junior high to early high school years. I wouldn’t say they are as dark as their pat life in the Meiji Era (I mean, they’re not eating anyone).

It’s- It’s to be expected.

For Ume, you can expect a lot of behaviors to dance into her prior life as an oiran.

However, for Gyuutarou, there will be moments where he slips into his old self. No so much out of pride, but rather as a protective layer. The easiest way to cope with rejection, is more often than not to reject those around you.

So, he does.

He becomes louder, noticeably bristled when people stare.

Fowl language, is known for casually using obscene language.  Tattoos, piercing, finding comfort in the alternative aesthetic. Let’s be honest—the prep look will not work out for him. There is also the issue of his own skin conditions, the starch often used for the fine lined clothes are more likely to irritate him. Where as the  vintage clothes have a tendency to have the “worn out” affect, softer material, and tension pulled from them.

They just don’t irritate his skin as much as the more mainstream clothing.

Actually, I would believe Gyuutarou has an anxiety disorder of some sort causing him to pick at his blemishes, further irritating his rash.

Scratch that, Gyutaro in the modern world very well could have Sensory Processing Disorder. Sensitivity to the noise and blusting around him, agitated by the noise and lights, distaste of perfumes, or sticky textures. Being TOUCHED. Wearing shoes! I can see it I can see it, but this could also be a manifestation of abuse. Must be investigated.

Gyuutarou takes a lot of your advice seriously. If you are the more rational type, he at times may use you as a sort of guide—a conscious to consider if this is the best course of action. The truth is that he has no real guardian in his life, and without a proper guidance, he’s worried that he will (again) ruin Ume’s life, and because of this, he takes any of your counsel into great consideration.

However, this is not always the case.

There are times, where his anger gets the best of him, where his circumstances, his upbringing in this life and the last overwhelm him, threaten to drown him indesolation. He becomes biting, lashing out to those around him, even his little sister. Desperate to flee, eager to seclude himself. To turn away from the outside world, from school, from his sister, from his duties, and even you, his best friend.

Depression is a common issue for Gyuutarou, and one that he will grapple with admitting to. It’s not that he’s embarrassed per say, but—who would really care how he feels? Struggles with self-worth for obvious reasons.

I headcanon that the reader from parallel paths was reunited with their mother in the modern world, born to her in a healthy condition, one in which she does not have to bid you farewell. Fiercely protective of you--- fretting if you are remembering to take your medicine, your ointment for your skin condition. Ready to beat anyone who dares say anything about your blemishes.

She’s beautiful, as lovely as the oiran of the past, but there’s an unspoken beauty. A softness, warmth in her regards. Life that was not there, she has fully adapted to the modern expectatiosn of a house wife—in fact, finds a joy in having the opportunity to actually RAISE you. An overly doting mother.

Happily welcomes Gyuutaro and Ume’s drop ins when they visit, without so much a comment to their odd state of dress, or the new jewelry addition to Ume’s tongue. Rather, her first response is to look Gyutarou over, touch his cheek, and inquire if they’ve had dinner yet. Of course they haven’t. Always happy to welcome them to the dinner table.

Frets when they insist on leaving—shamelessly pulling out reserved frozen cooked rice, curry, snacks, whatever she can think of. Has taken to having a few snacks on hand for when they pop in.

The obvious pout when Gyutaro and Ume do not spend the night--- she knows that more often than not their mother is not consistent with paying the water bills. Worries about their wellbeing, and frequently slips ointment into Gyutaro’s backpack when no one is looking. Accepts the boy does not want his sister to know, but also understands your own condition enough to know. He. Is. Miserable.

As friends, Gyutarou needs someone who can feel at peace with the world. That can remind him of the simple beauties in every day. The sunrise, and the sunset. The welcome of spring, and cherry blossoms. The touch of snow upon your finger tips, or the tip of your tongue. The small smile upon witnessing the arrival of butterflies, or the crunch of leaves beneath your feet.

He’s stressed, and far too captivated by adult responsibilities, that having a friend who reminds him that—well, he’s still a child is essential. Even more is having someone to listen to him. To notice him.

To smile at him.