#para: relentless

[fullreggaetord]

Nike Sabrina 2 “Relentless” (Coconut Milk) programado para lanzarse en octubre de 2024

La línea Nike Sabrina 2 se expande con la incorporación de la combinación de colores “Relentless”. Esta nueva edición ofrece una apariencia más suave pero audaz para ayudarte a destacar. Con una suave combinación de leche de coco, hueso claro, vela y marrón barroco. La parte superior viene en tonos neutros cremosos, creando un diseño elegante y sofisticado. Un Swoosh de color marrón oscuro…

[kiddycup]

Amal reached out to me to help spread her fundraiser, and its goal is nearly reached. She and her 1 year old baby is trying to get out of Gaza to safety from the relentless attacks by the IOF, and have been constantly displaced for the past year. Please check out her campaign! This fundraiser is vetted.

Her target is 50,000 euro, with 44,476 euro already raised!! (as of 10/08/24)

if you can spare anything, please do, and if you can't, consider sharing it and reblogging.

[opencommunion]

The Stop Cop City movement has sought to prevent the expropriation of part of the Welaunee Forest for the development of an 85-acre police mega training center: a model town to prepare the state’s repressive arms for the urban warfare that will ensue when the contradictions of their exploitation and extraction become uncontainable, as they did in 2020 after the APD murdered Rayshard Brooks.  That murder, and all those that came before, were the lodestars of the Black-led movement during the George Floyd uprisings; their demands were no less than the dismantlement of the entire carceral system. Unable to effectively manage or quell the popular street movements, the Atlanta Police Foundation set out to consolidate and expand their capabilities for surveillance, repression, imprisonment, armed violence, and forced disappearance. One result is Cop City, which has been racked by militant sabotage, land occupation, arson, and popular mobilizations, in an attempt to end the construction and return Atlanta to its people.  As the Atlanta Police Foundation was unable to contain the 2020 Black rebellion, so too have they been unable to quell the resistance against Cop City. The press reports that the project is hemorrhaging money and is mired in delays and difficulties. For their part, the city, the state, and the federal government, have in turn employed every tool in their power to destroy the movement. Last week, the Georgia State Senate passed a bill to effectively criminalize bail funds in the state; RICO charges have been contorted to target networks of support and care that surround the fighters; and last January, APD assassinated the comrade Tortuguita in cold blood while they rested in their tent in the forest. It is clear that Stop Cop City represents one of the conjunctural spear tips for expanding the existing systems of counterinsurgency that span Africa, Asia, and the Arab world.  Today the system’s belly rests atop Gaza, whose rumblings shake the earth upon which we walk. Through its Georgia International Law Enforcement Exchange (GILEE) program, the APD has sent hundreds of police to train with the Zionist occupation forces. And in October 2023, after Tufan al-Aqsa, the Atlanta Police Department engaged in hostage training inside abandoned hotels, putatively intended to “defeat Hamas,” in an advancement of tactics for the targeting of Black people. With every such expansion, the ability of counterinsurgency doctrines to counteract people’s liberation struggles grows. The purpose of counterinsurgency is to marshal state and para-state power into political, social, economic, psychological, and military warfare to overwhelm both militants and the popular cradle—the people—who support them. Its aim is to render us hopeless; to isolate and dispossess us and to break our will to resist it by any and all means necessary. This will continue apace, unless we fight to end it. Stop Cop City remains undeterred: on Friday, an APD cop car was burnt overnight in response to the police operation on February 8; yesterday, two trucks and trailers loaded with lumber were burnt to the ground. An anonymous statement claiming credit for the former, stated: “We wish to dispel any notion that people will take this latest wave of repression lying down, or that arresting alleged arsonists will deter future arsons.”  As the U.S. government and Zionist entity set their sights on the Palestinian people sheltering in Rafah, as they continue their relentless genocide of our people in Khan Younis, Jabalia, Shuja’iyya, and Gaza City, the Stop Cop City movement has clearly articulated its solidarity with the Palestinian struggle. They have done so with consistency and discipline, and we have heard them. Our vision of freedom in this life and the next requires us to confront and challenge the entangled forces of oppression in Palestine and in Turtle Island, and to identify the sites of tension upon which these systems distill their forces. This week, as with the last three years, the forest defenders have presented us one such crucible.

(11 Feb 24)

National Lawyers Guild, Stop All Cop Cities: Lessons For a National Struggle (video, 1 hr 45 min)

[nidalzomlot]

Help me and Support My Family in Gaza

I am 34 years old, and my family and I are in desperate need of assistance.

We are living in constant fear for our lives and the lives of our loved ones. We urgently need your help to find a safe haven where we can live or to escape the horrors of this war.

My Story

Before the war, I lived a normal life with my family in Gaza. We worked hard to build a better future, but unfortunately, everything was lost in an instant. Our home was destroyed, and we lost everything we had. Now, we are living in extremely harsh conditions, lacking basic necessities like food, water, and electricity, and we are suffering from a lack of essential medical care.

Our Current Situation

My family consists of myself, my children Omar, Odi, and Alma

Me and their mom, Azhar, worn down by the relentless struggle, our living conditions are dire, lacking the most basic facilities. Clean water or acceptable diapers are a rare luxury, and the constant threat of violence surrounds us.

We have to believe someone will hear our story. Someone will help us."

You can be that someone. Your donation can help my family escape the horrors of war and start anew in a safe place. With your support, Omar can play soccer again, Odai can build his dreams, and little Alma can finally know peace in a brighter future.

Medical Needs: Some of my family members are suffering from serious health issues that require urgent treatment and medical care, which are unavailable in Gaza.

Shelter: We are currently living in temporary shelter that does not provide adequate protection from the ongoing bombings and the constant danger surrounding us.

Our Goal

We aim to raise funds to:

Safe Shelter

We need a safe place to live peacefully and securely, away from the horrors of war. To secure a suitable apartment with basic necessities—such as a bathroom, water, protection from diseases and pollutants, and shielding from radiation and shrapnel—costs approximately €900 monthly.

Medical Care

Ensuring that our family receives necessary medical treatment and healthcare is crucial. We need funds to cover medical treatments, milk, and diapers for my baby, amounting to €500 monthly.

Escape the War

Our ultimate goal is to relocate to a safer place outside of Gaza hopefully to Egypt. The costs are significant, but the safety of our children and ourselves depends on it.

Here's a breakdown of the costs involved:

Coordination fee for leaving Gaza:

€10,000 per person. We need €20,000 to ensure both my wife, Azhar, and I can leave Gaza safely.

Travel and entry costs to Gaza: €2,000.

Purchasing a home and living essentials in Egypt: €30,000.

Educational and medical expenses in Egypt: €30,000 annually.

Monthly living expenses for food and beverages: €3,000.

How You Can Help

Financial Donations: Any donation, no matter how small, can make a significant difference in our lives. Help us reach our goal by providing the financial support we desperately need.

Share Our Story: Please share our story with your friends, family, and on social media to raise awareness about our dire situation and attract more support.

Moral Support: Words of encouragement and prayers can give us the strength to continue fighting for survival.

Thank You for Your Support

We are grateful to everyone who contributes to helping us during these difficult times. Your generosity and solidarity give us hope and bring us one step closer to safety and stability.

With heartfelt respect and gratitude,

Nidal Zomlot

DONATE HERE

@el-shab-hussein @wellwaterhysteria @nabulsi @irhabiya @sar-soor @appsa @buttercuparry @brutaliakhoa @stuckinapril @schoolhater @three-croissants

@generallyjl @wutheringheightsfilm @cybrthrillz @jezior0 @anneemay @appsa @labutansa @girlinafairytale @sneakerdoodle @variantsofblue @brokenbackmountain @maester-cressen @demothers-empty-blog @thedailydescent @aleciosun @determinate-negation @schoolhater @buttercuparry @sayruq @tittyinfinity @luminousrose1 @malcriada @i-am-a-fish @a-shade-of-blue @allthecanadianpolitics @i-cant-think-of-any-url @mazzikah @sar-soor @soracities @sadhoc @skatezophrenic @girlwhowasonfire @brutaliakhoa @voidofryu @timogsilangan @freetyphoonfire

#help

gaza#free gaza#gofundme#pray for palestine#go fund me#archaeology#free palestine#palestine#israel#boycott israel#genocide#from the river to the sea#donation#emergency donation#donate now#reblog#indigenous#indigenous peoples#indigenous rights#palestinians#save palestine#Youtube

[fairlyang]

making tamales with miguel would include:

comiéndose los pedazos de puerco en ves de nomás desmenuzarla

you would be washing las hojas in the sink, watching out of the corner of your eye pretending you can't see him

trying to make small talk so he'd have to quickly finish chewing and swallow so you wouldn't catch him

making sure every big piece is shredded and grabbing the ones hidden all the way at the bottom, to just immediately take a bite out of them

“miguel no te dije que te la comas toda o si?”

he just grunts and waves you off, his fingers filled with small pieces of the meat stuck onto his skin, “nomas lo estoy probando…. esta rico.”

you playfully roll your eyes and just nod, not being upset in the slightest and move on to the masa

that would be his favorite part and what he would say he was an expert in

“miguel stop playing with it!!”

he’d shake his head and just dig his hands all the way down, then bringing them back up with a handful

“amor quítale las bolitas también.”

he groans and starts to do it before he gets bored too quickly

he’d pat it all down so there would be no holes just to scoop some into his hand, going in with the other to pinch out all the little lumps

meanwhile you were adding some salt, baking powder, and some of the chile to give it some color. you grabbed the bucket of manteca, abriéndola despacito para que no se tire

“stop for a sec babe, va estar fría okay?” you warn and he nods as you slowly pour it in the middle while he slowly started to mix it together

“shit!”

“te dije!!”

you would then teasingly put some over his hands making him curse more which only had you giggling

“mix it well.”

“ya se mami, soy un profesional.”

he would mix it all together, having his last bit of fun like rubbing some masa off his hands only for it to finally slip off, indicating it was almost ready

he’d hesitantly help you en embarrar las hojas con la masa (yo no puedo para salvar mi vida)

but you created a system of you putting the masa on them and leaving them on the counter for him to either scoop some of the carne con chile or put cheese and jalapeños (that you already cut) on them

he would do one de rojo y otro verde, changing it up and putting them in the big ass steamer pot, making sure to stack them all correctly para que todas se cosan bien

after a long ass hour of doing that and making sure everything was used up, you had finished making them and it was time to cook them

you watched as he carried the big pot as if it weighed nothing, knowing damn well it was even heavier since it was filled to the top

you turned on the stove and he placed it on top carefully before turning to the sink and grabbing a handful of hojas and placing them to the very top of the pot, covering all the tamales. he put the lid on and looked at the time on the microwave, “two hours no?”

“we’ll do an hour then check if they’re ready.” you say and he nods

“so we have an hour to kill?” he asks and you slowly nod

nsfw breeding again oops

it took nearly nothing for him to convince you and you were quickly bent over the countertop as he devoured your pussy. but he was relentless and eager so he had you cum within minutes then you were on your knees sucking him off.

you rubbed your clit as you did so, moaning against him while he moaned out for you, “que linda te ves amor- siempre tan bonita.”

your eyes rolled back and you looked back up at him as you took him down your throat, “fuck- just like that baby… good girl.”

“not gonna cum down your throat though, princess.” he groans and pulls away from you.

you pout as he helps you stand up and he immediately turns you around bending you over the counter once again. you stick your ass out, arching your back a bit as you lean on the counter waiting for him to slip it in. but he decides to be a tease instead and just slides his tip between your slick folds as if he’s not dying to fuck you.

“miguel no me hagas enojar por favor.” you warned and he gasped, “ay no te me enojes preciosa.. te levantó en la mañana con mi boca okay?”

you bit your lip and just slowly nodded, the idea of getting woken up to head making your head spin. your walls clenched against nothing as he ensured his dick was soaked with your juices. “i bet you cum in three thrusts.” you say and look behind you to look into his disbelief expression.

“yeah okay.” he mumbles and finally positions his tip to your entrance, slowly going inside.

his cock was sliding in so easily, you were surprised he had so much self control so far. his hands were on your hips and his eyes on yours as you squeezed him perfectly, like always. he was fully inside you and feeling you was nearly enough for him to cum but he had to prove you wrong.

he pulled back and thrusted inside you, instantly hitting your g spot making you both moan. you held onto the counter, contemplating making him cum fast on purpose. you already knew what you’d say and wanted to see if he would.

for science.

he pulled back again then thrusted all the way in, your gummy walls clenching against him more than usual.

once you felt him pull out again was when you decided to give it a shot, “please give me a baby.”

the unexpected happened and he came hard, quickly slamming into you so it’d go all the way in as he filled you up to the brim. his body was shaking as you tried your absolute hardest to hide your shit eating grin so you looked forward again so you could.

his breathing was rapid and he could’ve sworn he was fucking dreaming because there was no way that just happened so quickly.

after calming his breathing down, he finally spoke up, “you cheated.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you say with a little shrug making him scoff, “no te hagas-“

“just keep going, c’mon, let’s make sure our little family will grow.” you turn to look at him again and he nods, “yes ma’am.”

[trulyradicalactivist]

My name is Act. I use She/They/It/Neo pronouns. I have been a radqueer since the original coming, and a part of the pro-para and proship communities before that. This is not a usual pinned post. This is a letter to my community. This blog is designed to support, uplift, and announce all forms of activism for our community and encourage each one of you to begin the revolution. For our identities, for our pride, and for our loved ones.

My call to action is under the cut. I ask you to take the time to read it. Thank you.

For too long, we’ve lived in the shadows of a world that dismisses, marginalizes, and oppresses us. Many wouldn't say oppression. Many downplay what we go through, saying that we’re just trolls taking up minimal space in the digital era. But we have been oppressed. In our own spaces, we’ve had civil wars, fighting over one thing or another, specifically designed to divide us! In spaces beyond our community, we’ve faced not only hostility, but outright discrimination. Told to kill ourselves by cowards who hide behind anonymity, many people who simply desired to be themselves, driven to suicide. Are you not angry? Are you not driven to the brink by what these people have done to us, justified by hatred and misinformation? I'm angry!

We’ve carried the weight of a world that refuses to see us for who we are, and we’ve endured the pain of invisibility and injustice. I refuse to accept that the identities in this community will endure that pain any longer. No more.

This is a call to every single one of you. Whether you’ve been part of this community for years or you’re just now finding your voice, know this: you are not alone. Our strength lies in our connection, our shared experiences, and our collective will to change the minds of people who hate us, to educate, to bring a new era of peace where radqueer is the norm. Everyone thinks the future is radqueer, and I agree, but to make it that way, it takes a community willing to change the present.

We need community and we need action. Not later, not tomorrow, not yesterday, the time hasn't passed and it isn't coming towards us. The time is now.

In the digital age, our voices can and do echo across the world. Activism is not just a tool; it’s a lifeline. It’s where we educate, organize, and amplify. Share your stories, challenge injustice, and build networks of solidarity. Every post, every comment, every shared resource matters. Together, we can flood people’s minds with truth and resistance. We can make a new tomorrow.

But I also recognize the power of individual action, even in isolation. Real life protest does not always mean marching in the streets; it can mean standing firm in your truth, no matter where you are. Writing “radqueer is the future” on a desk, on a bathroom wall. Scattering posters, flyers, stickers in the streets, putting them on benches in parks or sticking them into lamp posts.

Resistance is not a singular act—it’s a lifestyle. It’s choosing, every day, to reject the narratives that tell us we’re less than. It’s refusing to be silent in the face of oppression. It’s demanding change, even when the odds seem insurmountable, and believe me, they certainly seem impossible, but I promise you. They aren't. We have done this before, we will do it again, and again, and again, until we need not fight anymore.

Let’s not forget why we fight. We fight for the right to exist as we are. We fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. We fight for future generations, so they won’t have to endure what we have. And most importantly, we fight because we believe in a world where justice and equality are not ideals but realities.

So, here’s what I ask of you. A few actions, if nothing else.

Be loud. Use your platform, no matter how small, to speak out. Share resources or even create them, talk about your stories, and call others to action. Scream from the rooftops who you are, what you live for, what you fight for.

Be relentless. Don’t let apathy or exhaustion silence you. Take breaks when you need them, but never lose sight of the goal. I know. I know people who hate us break you down, try to make you tired, ruin your mental health. Take breaks. Always take that time for yourself. But a fight waits for nobody, so feel in your heart, even while you aren't fighting, we are. We’re fighting for you.

Be united. This community has shown itself to be a magnet for division, but do you expect to fight while shooting at those fighting with you? Differences in belief aside, differences in opinion on the future, what should be, what shouldn't be, who shouldn't and who should, put them away. We can come back to discuss those when the future isn't against us, when the enemy has laid to rest and we have made a life with them, where they do not want us dead or wish harm upon us. But for now, they do. Together, we are stronger than any force that seeks to divide us, so put away your issues with the person beside you and find that two make a better fight than one ever could.

Be bold. Challenge the status quo, whether it’s online, in your workplace, or in your personal relationships. Change starts with discomfort, and progress begins when we confront what’s wrong. A picrew says radqueer’s aren't allowed to use it? Use it. Make it your profile picture. Do it with flags. Identities. Terms. Pictures. Anything that says you, because of your identity and your beliefs, aren't allowed to use it. Anything that wants to oppress you. Do not accept it.

This is our moment. This is our fight. And we will not stop until the world hears us, sees us, and respects us. I will fight. I will fight for you, for this community, for all of us with identities we cannot share for fear of our income, our lives, our safety.

Justice is what I fight for. What do you fight for? Your family, your friends, the people you love? The right and ability to be yourself? To express yourself the way you desire to? To have the right to change your race, age, gender, species, anything at all, in the court of law? Do you fight for anarchy, for revolution, to tear down the status quo? Then fight.

The revolution begins with us—and it begins now.

[fuck1ng-queen]

Linda

Noah Sebastian x Brazilian!Reader

Rating: free for all

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: new feelings, a bit of alcohol, fluffy

Author comments: first of all: happy new year everyone! i'm here to tell none of this is my fault, blame it on @concretejunglefm for making me think about teaching portuguese (my mother language) for Noah! this became a shameless self insertion, i'm sorry, but i also hope you enjoy it! (and if you never tried pão de queijo before, what are you waiting for?)

It had been a while since you moved to the US. Who would tell you that when you started at a São Paulo’s Bureau of Musical Production, your work would take you so far? You remembered well one of your first big jobs, an international one, making you contact the Americans. That was the way you met for the first time some of the legends of musical production behind hits everyone used to listen to. Furthermore, you were so glad to meet people you admired for defying the conservative concept of people who say that rock and roll is dying. 

You showed yourself as a professional, capable person, and soon a proposal was made to you. The payment was way better compared to your job in Brazil, and you had no one there to make you feel forced to stay. Without overthinking, or you would probably give up, you said yes, and now there you were, at the land of Uncle Sam, facing a new language, new habits, and new companions. You missed your job partners and even your difficult boss to deal with, but now you had no one but Bad Omens to work with. Their vocal, Noah Sebastian, was relentless at his work, focused, and with the gift of the gab to conquer what he wanted. And, face the fact, he conquered you too. He was a great work partner, making you feel welcome and accepted. 

It was a hot summer night, although the autumn was already on the corner. Every time you and your partners were successful, you celebrated at the same pub, and tonight it wasn’t going to be different. After weeks of crossing nights wide awake, the team could finally show the new project with efficiency. 

You were already drinking your third beer and everyone wasn’t there yet. The weirdest thing was that everyone was always very punctual and once you worked in a stressful job, when they were late you just couldn’t help feeling worried. Impatiently you stood up. The only one there besides you was Noah. 

“Gotta call’em, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Noah nodded, agreeing. It didn’t take too long for you to come back, with a way better gaze than you were before. 

“They're not coming yet, still have some things to sort out in the studio. I’ve no idea what.” 

“Neither. Want to let it go for another day?” 

You sat taking the glass with your beer and looking at the lipstick mark you had left on it. 

“No, we can wait for them a little. For now, it seems like it’s just the two of us tonight, Noah Sebastian.” 

“Just the two of us, babe.” He winked at you. 

You remembered the moment you started working with him… Damn, he was good with words. Noah’s answer wasn’t a big thing, but he always knew how to use the right, and sharp, words, in the most opportune moments. The way Noah used to choose his words lit something up inside you, and that wasn’t the first time. Every time it happened you made sure to hide it the most quickly you could from him, and from you too. Lucky you, even before you could feel ashamed to think something different from literal, you jumped on the chair, remembering something. You took a tiny notebook that used to live in your pocket and wrote “ligar para a mamãe ainda hoje!” On the page there were also other things written, all in Portuguese, catching Noah’s attention. 

“Your English is so good I always forget you’re not from here.” He gave a muffled chuckle. 

“Just remembered I have to call my mom so I wrote to not forget. Did you know even I forget it sometimes? But always happens something who remembers me I’m not from here. For example, every time I go to the bakery to buy us some donuts, I wish I could buy a huge bag of pão de queijo or a few coxinhas.” You made a pause. “I miss home sometimes.” 

Noah's eyes sparkled with interest. It was fascinating to see the way you talked about your country every time. About food, about people… Noah couldn’t even imagine how somebody could spend Christmas Eve in a more than 86ºF heat. But the thing he liked the most was seeing you when you were by yourself at your table at the office, concentrated and grumbling something in Portuguese. He knew that merda was something bad and arrasei was when you were proud of something you had done well, but maybe only now, by the effect of a few alcohols, or by being alone with you, he figured out he just knew all of that because he noticed you more than he should when you were speaking your mother language. He sipped his beer and looked deeply at you with that warm pair of brown eyes. 

“You could teach me a few Portuguese, what do you think?” 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to act the most normal you could, but on the inside, you were in a mix of feelings and thoughts. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was because you were alone with him, but you never felt so into him like this moment. 

“I think it’s great. What do you want to learn?” 

“I don’t know… Maybe you could translate what you see now.” 

You looked around, thinking about what to choose. 

“Let’s see… We’re drinking cerveja, we’re in a bar, just like in English, I'm a produtora, and… I don’t know what to say anymore” you laughed. 

Noah listened to all your words with attention, hypnotized. 

“And how do I say you’re beautiful?” When he figured out, it was too late, he had already asked. 

“Você é lindo” you answered, with an accomplishment tone. 

“So… Did you know você é lindo?” Noah told you, seeming more serious than before. 

“No” you giggled, that was really cute. “When you talk to a girl you have to say linda. Lindo is for the boys.” 

“So you told me I’m lindo?” 

“Maybe…” You winked an eye at him. 

“Oh, thank you, I wasn’t expecting that. You’re linda too.” He got closer, putting his elbow on the table and resting his cheeks on his hand, without taking his eyes off of yours. 

“Hm, obrigada…” You thanked. That was starting to be funny. 

“De nada…?” Noah tried to respond to you. 

“Yes! You remembered!” You answered excitedly, putting your hand on his arm. 

It took a second for you to figure out where your hand was, and instead of removing it, it just felt right not to take it off. You looked at each other in a moment that looked like an eternity. His eyes didn’t help looking at yours, and then at your lips, returning to your eyes again. 

“Can I ask you something?” he finally answered. 

“Yes.” 

“How can I say can I kiss you?” 

He was too serious to be joking, and you felt your stomach trembling with anxiety. You were nervous, but damn… You wanted to kiss him right now. 

“Posso te beijar?” You finally translated. 

“Yes, you can.” He answered. 

And then it happened. When you realized, you were already lost on his lips, feeling tickles on your mouth because of a few stubble on his face, and letting your body heat up. 

(…) 

You showed up at the bureau the day after feeling kind of weird. You didn’t know why the others didn’t show up but to be honest, you were glad they didn’t. You and Noah spent an incredible night at the bar the day before, sharing kisses and caresses, talking and flirting with each other. Both of you agreed not to spend the night together, you were kind of drunk and you wanted to enjoy, and discover, each other as you deserved. But now you thought it was just a drunk conversation between the two of you, he would probably not even remember anything that happened the night before anymore. 

You entered the corridor of your level and noticed a package on your table. You approached, smelling a nostalgic scent. On the package it had a small post-it, saying “Good morning, linda.” 

You opened the paper bag, finding a lot of fresh pão de queijo inside. You smelled those tiny breads and felt at home again, smiling. You lifted your eyes excitedly, looking for him. He was in front of the coffee machine, trying to disguise himself, but you knew he was paying attention to you when he looked at you and winked one eye, smiling. You smiled back, feeling your heart heating up. 

He remembered the night before, after all. And you couldn’t wait for the two of you to have other nights to remember. 

.

.

.

masterlist | send me an ask to join my taglist <3

taglist: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard |

.

for those who are curious: this is pão de queijo, and this is coxinha

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Sergio Checo Perez with wife reader. He was feeling down as his performance hasn't been improving and everyone seems to be criticizing him. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

A wife’s fierce protection

Word count: 792

Pairing: Sergio Perez x wife!reader

Summary: In the face of relentless criticism from the media and team principal Christian Horner, Sergio Pérez’s wife fiercely defends him, demanding better support and car improvements

________________________________________________________

Sergio "Checo" Pérez slumped in a chair as the team meeting stretched on. His recent performances had been the subject of intense scrutiny both within the team and in the media. Headlines were harsh: “Pérez Under Pressure,” “Checo’s Decline,” and “Red Bull’s Weak Link.” The constant criticism was wearing him down.

Christian Horner, Red Bull Racing’s team principal, continued to review Sergio’s performance metrics, his comments increasingly sharp. “The media is relentless,” Horner said, “but it’s not just them. Your times aren’t improving, and we need to address this seriously. It’s affecting our standings, and you’re not meeting expectations.”

Y/N, who had been quietly seething beside Sergio, couldn’t hold back any longer. The frustration she felt about the situation had been building for days, exacerbated by the negative media coverage and constant criticism of her husband.

“Christian, this is enough,” she said, standing abruptly. “You can’t keep talking about my husband like he’s the problem here.”

The room went silent. Max Verstappen, sitting across from them, was struggling to stifle a smirk, clearly finding the situation amusing. Y/N’s fierce expression quickly turned his smirk into a look of surprise.

“If you think tearing Sergio down is going to fix anything, you’re wrong,” Y/N continued, her voice unwavering. “You’re not just dealing with a driver here; you’re dealing with a person who’s been given a car that’s clearly not performing as it should. It’s not all on him. The car needs improvements, and the constant negativity isn’t helping anyone.”

Horner, taken aback, tried to maintain his composure. “Y/N, I understand you’re frustrated, but we have to address the issues with his performance. Constructive criticism is part of the process.”

“Constructive?” Y/N shot back. “This isn’t constructive. It’s demoralizing. If you want to see improvement, then start by addressing the issues with the car. If the car isn’t right, no driver will perform well. Sergio needs support, not more criticism.”

Sergio, who had been watching in stunned silence, reached out to gently touch her arm, speaking softly in Spanish. “Cariño, por favor, no hace falta. No quiero que esto se vuelva peor para ti.” ("Darling, please, it's not necessary. I don't want this to get worse for you.")

But Y/N shook her head, her eyes still locked on Horner. “No, Sergio. It’s already bad enough. I’m not going to let them treat you like this anymore. If they think they can keep criticizing you without consequence, they’re in for a rude awakening.”

Max, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. “Actually, Y/N, I agree with you. The car hasn’t been up to standard, and it’s not just Sergio who’s been struggling with it. I’ve had my issues too. We should definitely be looking at improvements. The car needs more than just tweaks; it needs significant upgrades.”

Horner, clearly caught off guard, nodded. “I see your point. We’ll have to consider how we can improve the car and support both drivers better. But we still need to address the performance issues on an individual level.”

Y/N turned back to Horner, her gaze unyielding. “And that starts with respecting Sergio and understanding that he’s working with what he’s given. If you want him to perform better, give him a better car and a better environment. And if you can’t provide that, then stop blaming him.”

As the meeting ended, the room remained in stunned silence. Y/N took Sergio’s hand, and they walked out together, leaving a tense atmosphere behind them.

Later, in the quiet of their hotel room, Sergio pulled Y/N close, his eyes filled with gratitude and admiration. “Estás loca,” he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Pero fue lo más sexy que he visto en mi vida. Cómo me defendiste… nadie ha hecho eso por mí.” (“You’re crazy, but that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. The way you defended me… no one’s ever done that for me.”)

Y/N smiled up at him, her earlier anger now replaced with a warm glow. “I just couldn’t stand to see them treat you like that. You’re incredible, Sergio. And if they can’t see it, then to hell with them.”

Sergio chuckled, pulling her closer. “Te amo, ¿sabes? No sé qué haría sin ti.” (“I love you, you know? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”)

“And you’ll never have to find out,” she replied, her arms wrapped around him. “I’ll always be by your side, fighting for you. And if anyone tries to bring you down again, they’ll have to deal with me first.”

“You make me feel invincible,” Sergio murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead. “With you by my side, I know I can face anything.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “And that’s exactly how I want you to feel, always.”

[jenjibear]

NCT DREAM AS BOYFRIENDS PREFRENCE/IMAGINE

(Fluff)

Bullet points cause I’m too tired to write paras TT

Gender neutral

Mark

* so soft, So sweet and attentive.

* He will always be there for you no matter what. No matter the time he will be there ready to listen to you because he can’t stand to see you hurt or sad.

* Puts you before himself because he is so selfless like that

* writes songs for you because he loves to hear your opinions on them

Overall a boyfriend who is just like a friend, and will always be there for you to depend on.

Renjun

* loves to have little art dates with you, drawing and painting together

* likes to take you to karaoke to sing with you because he loves your voice and how it sounds when you sing with him.

* matching clothes always, you look like the couple fit pics from Pinterest

* no matter how savage he is with the members he is always sweet with you.

Overall a boyfriend who loves the little things, and the time he spends with you.

Jeno

Where do I even begin ><

* gives you his hoodies, even without you asking..he says it’s cause you look cold he actually just thinks you look amazing in them.

* shares his gummies with you and no one else!

* loved to give you back hugs while you work/study

* bike rides through the park together are a regular occurrence

Overall a boyfriend who knows how to make you feel loved, and loves to see you smile

Haechan

* gamer boyfriend, hopped up on red bull,no sleep and a dream…but will still smile at you no matter how tired he is because you are better than caffeine

* teaches you how to play league so you can game together

* lazy big day dates are a regular thing after he spends all night gaming

* is relentless if you don’t give him enough affection so give him plenty of smooches

Overall he is that gamer boy boyfriend we’ve all dreamed about at some point, but will always have time for his love

Jaemin

Stop I’m so soft for Jaemin as a boyfriend

* cooks 3 meals a day for you because you will not skip any meals while he’s around, you are his love and he is going to make sure you are happy and healthy

* spams your phone relentlessly with lovey dovey paragraphs to ensure you always have a smile on your face

* you get exclusive pictures of the kids (his cats) but you’re still his number 1

* refuses to sleep unless you are beside him

Overall a boyfriend who isn’t afraid to love you and show you your worth, treats you like royalty because that’s what you deserve

Chenle

* takes you to watch him play basketball because he loves hearing you cheer and encourage him, he swears it makes him play better

* spoils you rotten within reason

* loves to cuddle into you while watching videos on his phone

* like Jaemin, you get exclusive photos of Daegal on the regular

Overall a fun and easy going boyfriend who loves just having you in his life and how much joy you bring with you.

Jisung

Ugh jisung TT

* stays up late on FaceTime with you if he can’t be beside you (usually when on schedule or tour) because he can’t stand being away from you

* sends you videos and photos that remind him of you just because

* innocent touches while you cuddle up to watch movies together

* constants has a lovestruck look on his face when you’re around

Overall a boyfriend who is your first love, and makes you feel warm inside and never makes you feel alone

[beacarrot]

Saved by a Stranger. - Text dedicated to Liam Payne.

I needed to take some time to search for where my words have gone. In the corner of the room where I danced to the band's first songs about someone who could love me "more than this"? On the poster stuck next to my bed, which will be the way I remember him every morning? From the beats of songs that saved a life? Mine, and that of a few million across continents I still haven’t reached?

Memories don't connect to thoughts, the pain lost in the current of the most beautiful joys, the sweet years of genuine innocence. And right now, I want to scream so loudly, because no word can soothe my soul.

The sweetness colored in his voice can never be altered, not by the forces of evil, or by the relentless time. Fate is funny and irrevocable... life likes to throw curveballs. It turns long roads into spheres. All I know how to write about is inner death. I wasn't ready for what was to come...

Who could have guessed? "Life is like that." It could certainly be worse, but we never say how much better it could have been. We wait for the "worst", but we pray for the "best". And what will always catch me is seeing the writing: "1993 - 2024".

Death is what unites people, as it’s the only thing that awaits us all in the same way, walking silently by our sides.

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

Part specifically for Liam.

"If I try to scream and manage to get some sound out of my lungs, would you be able to hear me? I keep dancing in my room, this time more alone than ever. I wait for your return, which, mockingly, won’t come, but wait somehow comforts my small and now withered heart, like the curse of nostalgia that promises to bring back the old times but never does. I didn’t want to let you go, but I spent too much time endlessly planning how to chase success while breaking down in fear. Mapping an escape to the past when I felt I was no longer the same, locked in a lethal and vivid attachment.

I feel like I never really touched you, but even without the tips of your fingers, you touched the deepest, most intimate part of my heart.

Dear Liam, we are all proud of the love you spread throughout your years of life, how you lent your voice to tell stories wrapped in threads covered with solid gold. For being the 'Daddy Direction,' for the rumors of your spoon aversion that always make me laugh when I look at one, for your youthful and naive love for Batman, Toy Story, and plaid shirts! For always having been and always being our red...

You make me strong, and 14 years wouldn't last forever, not for me, not for you. The love and the tender way you always treated your admirers and fans warm me somehow.

Heaven could have waited a little, right? But it didn’t. I fall to my knees in a pleading prayer that when you open your eyes on the other side, peace will greet you, your sins will be healed with time, and that our love can reach you, soothing your soul, which will rest in serenity.

As long as we're together, it doesn't matter where I am, right? Nor where you are now.

I believe nothing is an accident for God, although I still can’t believe everything that has happened before my eyes and in my adolescence. I know it’s my duty to keep the part of your heart that you lent me, which now belongs to me. And even though it cuts like a dagger, my heart is filled to the brim with love.

Yes, I will be strong with every breath I take. Your journey ends here, but your legacy and history will span decades. Home is where the heart rests...

Rest in peace, angel."

VERSÃO EM PORTUGUÊS >>>>> (portuguese version)

Salva por um estranho. - Texto dedicado ao Liam Payne.

Eu precisei tirar um tempo para procurar onde foram parar minhas palavras. No canto do quarto onde dancei as primeiras músicas da banda sobre alguém que poderia me amar "mais que isso"? No pôster colado ao lado da minha cama, que será a maneira de lembrar dele durante todas as minhas manhãs? Das batidas de canções que salvaram uma vida? A minha e a de alguns milhões pelos continentes que eu ainda não consegui alcançar?

As memórias não se conectam aos pensamentos, a dor perdida na correnteza das mais belas alegrias, os doces anos da inocência genuína. E agora mesmo eu quero gritar absurdamente alto, porque palavra alguma inquieta meu espírito.

A doçura tingida em sua voz nunca poderá ser alterada, nem pelas forças do mal, ou pelo implacável tempo. O destino é engraçado e irrevogável... A vida gosta de jogar bolas curvas, transformando longas estradas em esferas. Tudo o que sei escrever é sobre a morte interna. Eu não estava pronta para o que estava por vir...

Quem poderia supor? "A vida tem dessas." Certamente poderia ser pior, mas nunca dizemos o quanto poderia ter sido melhor. O pior é uma espera, mas o melhor é uma oraç��o. E o que sempre me pegará será ver a escrita: "1993 - 2024".

A morte é o que une as pessoas, pois é a única coisa que espera a todos de maneira análoga, caminhando silenciosamente ao nosso lado.

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

Parte especificamente para Liam.

"Se eu tentar gritar e conseguir que algum som saia dos meus pulmões, você conseguiria me ouvir? Continuo a dançar no meu quarto, desta vez mais sozinha que nunca. Espero por sua volta, que, desdenhosamente, não virá, mas de alguma forma consola meu pequeno e agora murcho coração esperar, assim como a maldição das nostalgias que prometem trazer os velhos tempos de volta, mas nunca o fazem. Eu não queria te deixar ir, mas passei tempo demais planejando incessantemente como perseguir o sucesso, mesmo me desfazendo em medo. Traçando uma fuga com destino ao passado quando sentia que já não era mais a mesma, trancada num apego letal e vívido.

Sinto que nunca pude realmente te tocar, mas, mesmo sem a ponta dos seus dedos, você tocou a parte mais profunda e íntima do meu coração.

Querido Liam, estamos todos orgulhosos do amor que espalhou em seus anos de vida, como doou sua voz para contar histórias que estão enroladas por fios cobertos de ouro maciço. Por ser o 'Daddy Direction', pelos rumores de sua aversão por colheres que, toda vez, me faz rir ao encarar uma, por sua jovem e ingênua paixão pelo Batman, Toy Story e camisas xadrez! Por sempre ter sido e ser o nosso vermelho...

Você me faz forte, e 14 anos não durariam para sempre, nem para mim, nem para você. O amor e a terna maneira com que sempre tratou seus admiradores e fãs me aquecem de certa forma.

O Paraíso poderia esperar um pouco, certo? Mas ele não o fez. Eu caio de joelhos em uma oração suplicante para que, quando você abrir seus olhos do outro lado, a paz o receba, seus pecados sejam curados com o passar do tempo, e que nosso amor possa chegar até você, acalentando sua alma, que descansará em serenidade.

Contanto que estejamos juntos, não importa onde eu esteja, certo? Nem onde você está agora.

Acredito que nada seja um acidente para Deus, embora eu ainda não acredite em tudo o que aconteceu diante de meus olhos e minha adolescência, tenho como dever guardar a parte do seu coração que você me emprestou e agora está dada. E, mesmo que corte como uma adaga, meu coração se encontra cheio até a borda de amor.

Sim, eu serei forte em cada respiração minha. Sua jornada acaba aqui, mas seu legado e história atravessará décadas. Casa é onde o coração descansa...

Descanse em paz, anjo."

[leftistfeminista]

Feminist activists carried out a protest starting from Providencia: Un Sitio de Memoria para Antofagasta, the former detention site for political prisoners under Pinochet. The object was to raise awareness about the abuses women endured as well as their heroic resistance and defiance. It is necessary to put a human face on what women endured. To overcome the silence. The Junta claimed it was "terrorizing Marxist terrorists". Leftist women were dehumanized as a dangerous threat to society who deserved their rough treatment.

The protest performance memorializes and reenacts what women political prisoners endured. Communist Party women leaders were considered the trophy prizes of the Junta regime. After being worn down by daily beatings and torture, she was stripped. Her bra and panties hung on display to show off the intimate symbols of her conquest. But she herself was the even bigger spoil of political warfare. She was paraded around the prison yard in front of all her comrades. Torn from the embrace of her sister-comrades, she was bound, chained, and presented like a trussed-up human gift, a macabre reward for a high-ranking Junta officer. She was delivered like a wrapped up Valentine's day gift to be enjoyed. Forcing defiant militants to become intimately submissive was the tool to make them politically compliant. The Left was to be broken by breaking its women leaders.

"No abortes" is written over the protester's belly as a grim reminder of the final goal of the repeated abuse. Political prisoners who became pregnant from their violations were denied abortions under Pinochet's draconian laws. The Junta answer to Marxist women's attempt to seize the means of production was to seize their means of reproduction. Misogynists saw the bodies of women political enemies as just a battleground to wage war on. In the neoliberal calculus, leftist women enemies were now a net benefit to the Junta, their bodies providing pleasure and babies for Junta officers.

The Junta Fascists sought the complete destruction of the dignity of political women who threatened it. Making a mockery and spectacle of Communist women leaders who had once been dangerous. Intense relentless humiliation was used to mentally break her so she would no longer think of herself as a political agent. To transform her from a threat to a source of pleasure and amusement to the powerful men of the regime. In the political war against radical egalitarianism, the women of the cause were to be reduced to complete subjugation and slavery, the polar opposite of the equality they fought for. It is precisely because of the immense strength of Marxist women that the total power of the capitalist military state was needed to drag her down into abject weakness.

We must never forget how women have had to pay for their political convictions in such an intimate, personal, violating way. The ways in which misogynist fascists attack the ideas of women through our bodies.

[futurecorps3]

I saw your Hobie x latina going going to the club para perrear and I loved it😭🤞🏼😩

BUT

Imagine Hobie going to a cantina with a mexican reader and just drink and hear corridos tristes (el video del vato que dice "porque que te quiero" y le meten el micrófono a la boca😭💀) or rather going to a cantina goes to her house and her family is making carne asada and drinking beer and there's literally a band in the party (soy norteña perdoname😭) and he is like "this food is bussing bussing" because he is British and their food is just "no good💖". At first he is nervous like he doesn't know what to do and at the end he is somehow riding a horse or he is playing with the band, he just loves it, the vibe and the food

(Love how you write 😭💖)

Hobie Brown meeting latina!reader's family <3

Masterlist <3

Ay hermana, soy chilanga we don't have horses up in this bitch😭 I tried to make it more general like Bee meeting your tías and primos but def adding the whole carne asada deal. (For my non-mexican readers, we call people from the city "chilangos" and northern people "norteños" and while we're from the same country, our experiences can be very different!). Also, tysm my dear, hope u like<3

-First off

-Giggling and kicking my feet 🤭

-Bro was persistent in meeting your family, and while you weren't exactly reluctant, you did have to warn him

-"Why not!? I want to meet your uncle Luis or- or Saúl!" He exclaims, recalling the stories you've told about your family members. "I'm not saying no, mi amor. I-It's just-" "What?" He grins, knowing you don't really have a solid argument. He kisses your pout and walks over to your room to get ready as you sigh, defeated by your pretty once more.

-Of course you wanted Bee to meet your family! But we all know how it can get at those big family gathering.

-One thing was meeting your parents, (which went by spectacularly, by the way) but him hanging out with your older tíos and younger primos was a whole other deal

-They aren't bad people, you love them dearly. It was the soft (hard and relentless) teasing (borderline bullying) you were worried about.

-It was easy to understand their humor when you grew up with heavy jokes, but Hobie would be new to all this. Plus, he was the first official boyfriend you'd introduce to the family! They were protective and honestly not afraid to show it.

-"Buenas tardes, Hobie Brown. Mucho gusto" you say slowly as you're both on the way to your tío's house, he repeats after you with a horrible accent. "Roll your r's!" You giggle, looking at him intently while softly showing him how to pronounce.

-He's really trying for you bestie </3

-Yeah he went blank after your aunt opened the door and dismissed his polite handshake with a bone-crushing hug.

-"Ay mija! He's so tall, I can barely hug him right. Pásenle, pásenle, Luis is in the garden with the kids. Welcome Hobie!"

-Bee just smiles and it widens when a horde of kids comes running down the hall and bolt towards you, saying hello to their favorite aunt and the strange bato she brought along.

-"Tía Y/N/N who is this?" Luisa (the youngest) asks, eyeing Hobie up and down with the sass of an old lady, making him suppress a laugh "Es tu novio?" now questions one of the boys, looking up at him amazed. "Hello brats" he smirks, high-fiving each and every one of your nieces and nephews excitedly.

-"You didn't tell me you were a tía already..." "Some of them will be by the age of sixteen, so I'm no rare event."

-Hobie is hard to lose on a crowd; all spikes, leather, chunky boots, and piercings

-Your nephews are thrilled.

-Asking all around about what his pins mean, if he finds it hard to walk with those boots, if he's not too hot with his jacket... you know, the type of questions kids ask.

-You laugh at him, trying to answer one question at a time patiently, and walk over to the table outside where your tíos, tías, primos, primas, cuñadas and some sobrinos were.

-"Y el novio mija?" Asks one of your tíos, already in a deffensive tone "He's inside con los niños, tío. Ahorita viene" you smile and promptly, Hobie walks through the door after the kids.

-The smokey scent of the carne asada filled his nostrils as soon as he walked outside, widening his eyes at how good it smelled. You walk over to him, grabbing his arm and smiling widely at your family

-"Les presento a Hobie, mi novio" you beam and your tíos can tell he truly makes you happy. "Yo no te di permiso, Y/N" one of them jokes, making everyone laugh and Bee follows after you translate for him.

-And he didn't like it but he really cared about their opinions

-He didn't give a single fuck of what other people had to say, but this was your family!!! He knew he was close and for the first time, strived for perfection

-The next few minutes were him trying really hard to memorize all the names, having a hard time pronouncing your aunt Rocio and Rosa's names.

-Everyone laughed at his attempts

-You sit between everyone at the large table, one of your tíos approaching you as you're too busy catching up with one of your cousins. Bee squeezes your hand to catch your attention, but you don't turn back to look at him, instead just squeeze back.

-He nervously places his hand out, and contrary to before, your uncle welcomes it. "Buenas tardes, Hobie" (oubi😭con acento mexa) "Buenas tardes, señor". God, did he rehearse that on the way...

-Your uncle seemed to appreciate him at least trying to talk to him in your mother tongue. He gave him kind of a smile and asked "Wanna help me with the asador over there?"

-Oh this was a test

-"Sure thing" he nods confidently even though he's shitting himself at the moment

-When he saw the carne asada let me tell you

-His mouth watered, heart eyes all over and he swore he was about to do that floating thing he's seen spider pig do

-Your tío taught him how to turn the steaks at the right time, after some aceite jumped and burnt him a bit :( your uncle could tell he was trying hard so he took it easy on him

-Personally? You fell in love all over again when he contained his tears the best he could at the smell and spice of the chiles floating so close to his nose <3

-You slapped his ass playfully when serving the food and he just smirked as your uncle side eyed you HARD

-“Bloody hell this shit is fucking amazing babe!” He almost moans when he bites into the taco of asada you made for him

-Your family might or might not know english but they know how bad words sound lmao

-They couldn’t blame him tho, not after he proved to love asada as much as them with the eight tacos he ate ☹️💕

-Him playing with the babies of your family bro :(

-He's so good with kids too

-I'm talking playing with them, having full conversations no matter how silly they got, following their train of thought and even making sure they weren't up to some stupid shit

-Girl, if you don't rail him stupid after that-

-He got along with your older cousins too!!! After all, they shared a similar taste in music and films so there was plenty to talk about

-Your tías chismeando with you about how handsome he is

-Let’s wrap it up, I got carried away and this is too damn long 😭

-He’s talking to one of your tías when the banda arrived at around 9 p.m

-My man is so confused please help him

-His spidey sense went off before the whole fucking commotion started lmao

-When he realized it was a live group playing and singing traditional music he lost his shit

-Asked you all about it!!! “What is that piano thing!?”, “What is he singing about?”, “Can I learn how to play that?”<3

-Eventually (and with no alcohol needed since he refused to risk doing some stupid shit with your family) he ended up dancing with your tía, her patiently teaching him how to move

-He had a hard time with his big ass boots but somehow managed!!

-Hobie was so happy when you went home ☹️ almost asking when you could come back and if you could cook some carne asada the same way your uncle (his best friend, he called him) did

-“Yo te amo mi amor” He smiled big, kissing you softly before falling asleep “Thanks for letting me meet your family… meant a whole lot y’know?” “‘Course corazón, seeing you there with everyone filled my heart with a joy I have rarely experienced”

-And with that you fell asleep, Hobie dreamt of asada and banda<3

[cremefrappe13]

Paranoia (Dragonberry & OC!)

Beast Ancients AU is made by @cuppajj I mostly wrote this to experiment with writing styles and how to write out the POV of living in oppression and suffering until the bitter end.

Trigger warnings: Blood, violence, death via execution, torture, manipulation, insanity

Read at your own choice

Lost child, lost child I’m in the middle of nowhere Pa-pa-para, paranoia

All Honeyflower could do was hide. She hid the draconic features of her horns and wings from the tyrannical monarch Dragonberry, fully understanding the power-thirsty beast’s desire to ascend to Dragonhood. Honeyflower, being a dragon who walked amongst cookiekind, was desperate to avoid the same fate her dear friend had been subjected to, using a hood to hide her horns and hiding her tail with a cloak. 

Crumbling, crumbling My heart is now breaking Pa-pa-para, paranoia

“Shit,” the girl cursed, as she heard someone pointing the way to her place. Honeyflower knew she was doomed if she did not start moving. Recently, people had noticed her horns on a windy day and her wings when she bumped into someone. Knowing full well those rumours would quickly reach Dragonberry, the dragon-cookie hybrid started packing.

So dark, so dark Where is the exit? Pa-pa-para, paranoia

It was a matter of time before the tyrant would show up at her doorstep, and Honeyflower was done packing her survival satchel. She rushed out of the window, spreading her wings to fly out and make her escape, but a voice made her freeze in fear as the familiar sting of a robe attempting to capture her lashed against her skin.

“There she is! Capture her!”

Sadness, sadness All I feel is despair Pa-pa-para, paranoia

She flew. That was all Honeyflower knew she could do when that loud, boisterous voice that she was all too familiar with, once shouting out words of joy and encouragement, but now spews out words of poison that would doom anyone.

“Leave the hunt to me!” Dragonberry called out, throwing her shield at the teen girl trying to fly away, but getting knocked out of the sky and falling, screaming as she hit the ground, with a dull crack and a ringing sound echoing in her skull.

WELL! It’s a terrifying emotional drop down! I’m going insane and spinning around and around!

Every day in captivity felt like torture to the young girl, being forced to transform, getting her scales plucked off, hell, even getting her blood drawn out for experiments! Honeyflower began to lose hope, seeing her possible “exit” darkening and dimming each time Dragonberry played one of her sick mind games on Honeyflower, leaving an open escape and then removing it just as Honeyflower made her move. The girl even started to hallucinate, going insane with the stress and pain that was put on her.

NO! All the paranoia, it must be in my head!I refuse to accept it!It all must be a lie

Every single day, Honeyflower hoped that all of her pain would have been just a shallow dream, that she would wake up and be fine without any scientist tormenting her, without the royal family constantly observing her, and most of all, without Dragonberry playing with her mind. However, it only got worse. Every day became a nightmare for Honeyflower, who would always wake up praying that everything would have been a bad dream.

Spinning around, oh! And insanity has begun to claw at me. I think I’m going crazy, crazy

 The delusions and pain got worse for Honeyflower, feeling her very sense of self being ripped apart with every day, no- every second spent in captivity made her feel like she was being torn apart and turned into shreds. Dragonberry’s cruelty was too much, and one day, Honeyflower was taken out to spar with Dragonberry herself.

And I think I can feel the paranoia creeping up on me Is this endless insanity? Honeyflower was defending herself with every move she made, avoiding strikes from the former Shield of Passion as Dragonberry’s relentless strikes carried on… but she didn’t want to fight anymore. The insanity kept clawing at her, taunting her to give in and let her go mad just like the former heroes…

A piercing scream ripped through the air as the young dragoness snapped.

AH! Screaming, dying, it’s a terrifying fall down! I’m wandering in the dark, spinning around and around! The paranoia, it all must be in my head!

She lost it. Her tail barraged with sharp attacks, her claws sharpening themselves as Honeyflower completely lost it, her pupils dilating as her draconic side took over and Dragonberry found herself overwhelmed by the sheer force and number of attacks. The dragoness landed hits every now and then, spilling blood as Honeyflower roared with pain and rage.

I’m lost, drunk on my emotions, losing my whole mind!It must be in my head!They have to be lying…

THEY HAVE TO BE LYING!

The fight raged on as Honeyflower went berserk, doing whatever to win and escape for her freedom as she managed to dent Dragonberry’s shield, which startled the corrupted ancient as metallic clangs and sparks of fire danced around the pair as they kept fighting. At this point, Honeyflower was literally breathing fire onto Dragonberry through their sheer fear and anger. Then…

WELL! I have fallen into a desperate case and I Have fallen into despair, spinning in the darkness

Honeyflower woke up, this time imprisoned even more properly in her cookie form as she saw the blade hovering over her head, knowing she was going to die in this miserable place now. “I don’t want to die… but I guess this is the end,” she thought, as the blade came down on her.

Dragonberry’s maniacal chuckle echoed through that lonely dark as the air in Honeyflower’s lungs left and never returned.

I thought it was all lies, But it really was the truth.

The End

[moon-child1316]

Ella y Yo || Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Ella y yo

Teníamos claro que era una locura

esta relación

Pero la carne nos llamaba y la cama

nos hacía una invitación

A solo hacer el amor

In which Miguel and the reader have a forbidden romance, in secret of her husband.

Content warning: smut and cheating.

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Miguel knew it was wrong. But he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help the way your little moans and whines dragged him deeper and deeper in love with you as he fucked you senseless in the supply closet of HQ. His hand over your mouth as to try and quiet you down.

He couldn't help himself when you clenched around him begging him to fill you up with everything, it was like a drug, a drug he couldn't stop consuming.

So imagine his dread when he sat at the bar deep in HQ. Sitting next to none other but your husband. Your husband and Miguel had been friends for years. Which is why the guilt that he was fucking his wife hit him even deeper.

"Bro, you just have to take her" your husband said "If she's married but she's with you on the download she clearly wants you" your husband said as he took a Sip of his drink "Don't give me advice on this situation" Miguel grumbled as he looked at the TV.

"You know, my wife is the best lady I've ever met. She's classy, she's beautiful she's my inspiration to do better" your husband said. Ouch. Miguel felt like his heart was being crushed. How could he tell him that the woman he loved was also his wife.

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"Fuck... Miguel slow down" you whined. But his thrust into your body were relentless. You held onto the desk for support. Miguel's talons digging into your hips as he took you from behind. His cock stretching out your insides, hitting that spot that made you see stars each time. Why was Miguel being so rough with you? He had seen you with your husband, and while he knew you 2 were nothing, that he was just a fling in your heart. The jealousy inside of him build up like lava.

"I saw you with him" he growled into your ear, his assault on your pussy stopping momentarily. He turned you around, laying you down on the desk and spreading your legs wide for him. "¿Lo hiciste para darme celos?" He asked as he lowered himself closer to you. His cock lining up with your entrance again "No-" you started before moaning as his cock buried deep inside you again "No me mientas" Miguel growled as he started moving again. His pace even more rough this time, reaching impossibly deeper into you. "M-miguel I love you!" You exclaimed. He stopped for a moment, his eyes staring into yours searching for the lie. Because your confession made his heart flutter and his cock throb inside of you. He cupped your face, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing you, his thrust being more gentle.

He was in too deep

And it was too late to go back now...

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The memory brought something out of Miguel. You were in his bed, sleeping. Yet yout husband thought you were slaving away at the computer. He gulped the last bit of his drink

"Amigo I'm sorry about what I'm about to do" Miguel said as he turned to look at your husband. Your husband raised a brow "What do you mean Miguel?" He asked raising a brow before laughing. "I think you took a few too many drinks"

Miguel raised his hand up to silence him "You know the woman I love. And even though it's not easy what I'm about to do, I'll admit it's your wife" Miguel said. It felt like glass had shattered in the room

"What...?" Your husband asked in disbelief "I went out with your wife" Miguel said again "I-I can't believe you" your husband said looking at the ground. Miguel slammed his hand on the bar and stood up "I've been fucking your wife" he said more sternly now.

Your husband looked up at him and stood up too, pointing his finger right at him "I hope God forgives you because I won't! I lost you both and that the same time" he yelled as he sat back down. Taking his beer in a shaking hand "I see now, it was a lie when she said she was staying late to do work" he whispered

"Well she lied" Miguel said, smugly "It was me and her in my office all alone" he said almost tauntingly. A smirk appearing on his face. Your husband turned to look up at him. "God knows how many other places you've both done it in, I hate you both" your husband yelled. Standing up, slamming a dollar bill on the counter and walking away, anger seething off him.

Miguel stood there for a bit, but as he payed for his drinks and made his way to his bed where you layed, he couldn't deny he was happy. You were finally all his.

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Translations:

¿Lo hiciste para darme celos?

-Did you do it to make me jealous?

No me mientas

-Don't lie to me

Amigo

-Friend

A/N: I don't condone cheating in way/shape/form but I'm Hispanic, and Don Omar just screames Miguel to me; and this is what came out. I have a few more on the works so keep an eye out. I also have my ask box open if anyone wants to make request!

[fairlyang]

18+ smut. miguel blurb. cadena 🕷️

imagínense a Miguel montándose arriba de ti y su cadena de la virgencita flotando en frente de tu cara

he positions himself to your entrance then rams into you without a second thought

gemidos se les escapan de sus bocas mientras que empuja sus caderas en las tuyas

his chain dangled with every thrust and something about it was just really doing it for you

tal ves por tener la virgencita ahí en frente de ti y sabiendo que lo que estás haciendo, no era algo tan inocente

maybe it was just the lil irony of it all and add his dirty nothings and ooo was it really something beyond innocent

“Te gusta tanto huh chiquita?”

“Taking this fucking cock every night.”

“Tomándolo como Dios manda, verdad angelita?”

instead of a response the only thing you could do was whimper as your walls tightened against him because his words always made you melt, how could they not?

se río y agarro tu cara para que vea tu carita tan bonita cuando empieza a moverse hasta más rápido, ganándose más gemidos hermosas de ti

he groaned and leaned down, your foreheads touching as he continued his relentless pace with you bringing your arms to wrap around your neck, bringing him even closer

“Así amor-! no p-pares por favor.”

“Please please please.”

“Follándome tan rico, como siempre.”

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN - ALL HAS BEEN REVEALED.

You awoke in a haze, the relentless pounding in your skull matching the rhythmic throbbing of your heart as the agony of yesterday’s hangover threatened to tear your head apart. Your recollection of the previous night was hazy at best, cloudy as the recent dreams you’ve had that you couldn’t quite grasp. As you tried to piece together the fragments of memory, your surroundings slowly came into focus. You found yourself in an unfamiliar room, and for a disorienting moment, you couldn’t place where you were. You were lying in a strange bed, the sheets soft and inviting, but the disarray of the room told a different story.

The dim, morning light filtered in through the curtains, revealing your disheveled state. Slowly, as the fog began to lift, you became aware of another presence in the room. A warm body pressed against your side, soft breaths brushing against your face as they tickled your cheek. A brief moment of panic coursed through you at the prospect of a complete stranger wrapping you in their arms. Slowly turning your head to find out the identity of your mystery companion, fear was soon replaced with mild relief as you saw a familiar face within your line of sight.

Marc's sleeping form greets your eyes, his bare chest in contact with your own as a rosy blush slowly makes its way to your cheeks at your close proximity. His arms were wrapped around your torso in a secure embrace, his grip on your waist tight as if he were afraid to let you go. Your relief at his presence was now replaced with confusion, completely puzzled at how you ended up in Marc’s bed together in the first place. 

Flickers of last night’s escapades began to resurface in your mind like bubbles in a pot of boiling water. There were your tipsy smiles and boisterous laughter, your ill-advised attempt at pole dancing on a nearby lamppost, and the sudden, terrifying sound of gunshots ringing in your ears. You remembered the searing pain in your shoulder and lower back as you crumpled to the ground.

Your eyes widened as the memory of the attack from last night finally became crystal clear, the realization sending shivers down your spine. Your left hand immediately shot to your right shoulder, your fingers cautiously reaching to touch the spots where the bullets had struck. But to your great surprise and shock, the skin was healed, smooth and unblemished, as if the gunshot wounds had never existed in the first place.

You turned your head, fully alert now, as you moved to check his body for any similar wounds, the sound of gunshots still ringing inside your head. To your great relief, Marc’s chest and torso were clear of any injuries.

“You’re okay”, you whispered, a lone tear escaping your eye. “We’re okay, Marc, thank heavens”

Marc began to stir beside you, his gruff morning voice breaking through the silence. "Tranquila, cariño," he murmured, his words laced with a hint of a Spanish accent. “Estoy aquí para protegerte”

It's okay, sweetheart. I'm here to protect you.

You froze as you registered his words, feeling like an ice-cold bucket of water has been splashed on your entire being. His voice was familiar, but something was definitely off. You couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was as the world around you seemed to grind to a halt. 

You watched with bated breath as he slowly woke, his eyelids slowly fluttering open as deep, piercing brown eyes eerily identical to Marc Spector’s familiar ones met your puzzled stare. Your heart raced as you looked into his dark, intense eyes, immediately realizing that the man before is definitely not Marc Spector. And certainly not Steven Grant, as you knew him to be at his aunt’s house, tending to her ailing, sick self. It was someone entirely different who’s in bed with you, and the slow realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

You couldn't move, couldn't speak as your entire being was frozen in disbelief. The growing confusion was written plainly on your face, but the stranger seemed unperturbed. He offered you a reassuring smile, his fingers gently tracing your jawline.

“¿Estás bien, querida? Te duele algo?”

Are you all right, dear? Are you in any pain?

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the emotions that swirled within you as the recesses of moon magic slowly danced at your fingertips. Despite the new moon significantly reducing your power, your fight-and-flight instincts immediately surged forth as your adrenaline kicked in.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Tú no eres Marc Spector," you managed to say, your voice shaky with a mixture of fear and confusion. "¿Quién eres exactamente?"

You are not Marc Spector. Who exactly are you?

“Hablas español, eh?” Jake chuckled, sleep finally evading him as he slowly got up, looking at anywhere but you as he couldn’t bear to see your frightened expression. “Creía que sólo hablabas tu lengua materna.”

You speak Spanish, huh? I thought you only spoke your native language.

“Hablé la lengua de los conquistadores durante un breve tiempo”, you responded, briefly telling him of how your linguistic ability in Spanish came to be. “Pero no respondiste a mi pregunta. ¿Quién eres exactamente?”

I spoke the language of the conquerors for a short time. But you didn't answer my question. Who exactly are you?

Seeing you scramble away from him slightly broke Jake’s heart - he never wanted you to see him as the enemy. But he understood your current reaction as it was warranted. You do not know of him, nor his existence. He was supposed to be a secret.

“Mira”, Jake faced your way and edged closer, trying to reassure you that he meant no harm. “I will not hurt you”

"That’s not what I asked you" you demanded, your tone sharp as you scrambled away from the strange man before you. "Who are you, and where is Marc? What did you do to him?"

“I’m not Marc Spector, but I can’t explain everything right now”, the man resigned, regarding you with an inscrutable expression. He seemed cautious, choosing his words carefully. "It's not my place to tell you."

Your patience, frayed as it was, wore thin at his vague response. The weariness of your body was no match for the surge of power building within you. It was as if your very essence, your supernatural abilities, demanded answers. You could feel your magical prowess ready to burst forth, a tempest trapped within your being, seeking release.

"Then whose place is it?!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion. "You can't just tell me that and expect me to just accept your words without any explanation. Make me understand!"

Jake shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't yield. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

It was clear to you that he wasn't going to give up the information easily, and a surge of determination coursed through you. You were a babaylan (priestess), skilled in witchcraft and mystic arts for a long period of time, and if brute force was what it took to get the answers you sought, so be it.

Without warning, you lunged at Jake, tackling him to the bed. He tried to evade your punches and hits, but you were relentless. Fueled by your growing frustration, you were like a tempest, unrelenting in your pursuit of the truth. Blow after blow, you rained down upon him, your fists like hammers.

Then, with a sudden burst of energy, your fist hit him square in the chest with brutal force. As the impact connected, there was an otherworldly explosion of energy, and Jake's body convulsed violently. You watched in astonishment as a spectral, translucent form was ejected from his physical body, his soul or astral form.

And then, the impossible happened. Not one, but three souls were pushed out of Jake's body, hovering above him. Marc and Steven, identical expressions of shock etched across their faces, were among them. Their voices rang out in unison, echoing through the room, as if they believed it to be a strange, shared dream.

“What the hell, Steven?!”

“Bloody hell, Marc! I dunno what’s happening!”

You, too, were taken aback, your heart pounding in your chest. It was a surreal, unbelievable sight. You had never witnessed anything like this before. And as your eyes darted between the three astral forms, you realized that this was a moment of truth. The identities of these men, once shrouded in mystery, had been laid bare before you.

As if sensing your gaze, Marc and Steven turned to you, their dread evident in their eyes. They no longer had the veil of secrecy to hide behind. Their true natures were exposed, and there was no going back.

"Marc? Steven?" you whispered their names, your voice trembling. "Is that really you?"

The two figures, once identical yet distinctly different, turned toward you, their expressions a tumultuous blend of fear, relief, and resignation. They seemed to be searching for the right words, the right way to explain the unexplainable.

And as you gazed into their eyes, your own powers receded, retreating like a retreating tide, their urgency replaced by a profound curiosity. You watched as Marc's astral form approached, hovering directly in front of you while Steven trailing closely behind. Jake, on the other hand, sensed that it was not his place and instead resigned to observe from the sidelines. Choosing a nearby chair to sit, he watched the unfolding conversation before him.

“Mira!” Marc shouted, remembering what happened last night as his translucent hands grasped your arms tightly, eyes checking your body for any injuries. “Are you alright? You’ve been shot, I–”

“I’m alright”, you spoke, briefly pulling the neckline and the hem of your t-shirt away to reveal your healed skin from your shoulder and lower back to Marc and Steven. 

“Thank heavens”, Steven sighed in pure relief, the tears in his translucent facade evident. “We thought we’d lost you”

“Well, one of you saved me”, you replied, prompting everyone’s eyes including your own to dart at the newcomer’s direction. Jake avoided your gazes and hung his head low, folding his arms as he refused to acknowledge everyone’s presence. He was supposed to stay hidden. They weren’t supposed to know of his existence. You weren’t supposed to meet him.

You knelt before Jake, your eyes carefully regarding him as your hands slowly made their way to his own. “You’re the one who saved me last night, right?”

Jake slowly nodded, prompting Marc and Steven’s translucent forms to mimic your movements to get a closer look at their mystery savior - the man who only appeared during dire situations akin to life and death to save them. 

“That night at Cairo”, Steven started. “When we were fighting Arthur Harrow, that was also you who saved Marc and I, wasn’t it?”

“Sí, that was me. I saved your sorry asses”, Jake chuckled, prompting Marc’s countenance to shift.

“This fucking guy–”

“Marc!” you snapped, prompting him to stop and give their third alter a dirty finger instead. You rolled your eyes at his actions, shortly before you returned your gaze to Jake. “Thank you for saving my life. What do I call you?”

“My name’s Jake”, he finally spoke, looking directly at everyone in the vicinity as the introductions were finally in order. “Jake Lockley”

END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

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