#that’s right. reputation. do you know what a reputation is?

[inkskinned]

idaho is already moving to repeal same-sex marriage. they say it's an overreach of the governmental power, and that the law should be determined by "state's rights".

trump is expected to sign an executive order banning trans women in women's sports. in the article i've linked there, he notes that the "biggest hand" (most applause) he gets is when he attacks trans women. isn't that interesting.

i know my own father voted for him. my own father, radicalized by podcasts and bad youtube, voted for this; felt smug about it. he genuinely believes the dems want to "put christians in camps." as if the dems could ever get off their silken asscheeks and actually do anything. i wish they had strong enough messaging to be misattributed like this.

my girlfriend and i worked the polls on election day, counting ballots. my father was eating noisily beside us. "see? you're freaked out about nothing." after all, i live in massachusetts: beautiful, expensive, no-working-transportation MA. the only state to go all-blue.

"if it's state's rights, you'll be fine," he said. i'd been sworn at a few days before this. a year ago almost to the day, i got hit in the head with an empty beer bottle. he said i was being dramatic. after all, first-adopter "the gay state" Massachusetts would rather explode than get rid of same-sex marriage. so what should i care, after all.

this man is a deacon. i guess he expects me not to get out of the car in any red state. i guess he thinks my relationship dissolves across certain borders. he doesn't see why it's concerning that i can't leave, because why would i want to. who wants to go to idaho? who cares about the real, living, breathing people in idaho.

(but then again: who cares about the real, living, breathing humans on deportation planes. they're not us. after all, my father came here legally. i am an american citizen because of birthright citizenship. i am even debating this because he immigrated.)

i texted my mom about it. i feel sick. no matter how much activism and research and outreach i do: it's always shocking to see a room full of people who hate you so much that they take legal action against you. on my small ex-work-laptop, i watch the shaking hands of people in idaho begging their representatives to reconsider. the fear in their voice is palpable. no person should have their relationship threatened this way. the motion still passes, 46-24.

it's all just happening so fast. i feel i am pushing my hands through glass pieces, watching the cuts before i feel them.

people often reference "first they came for..." when stuff like this happens, and while that's fair - there's a very quiet part of me that always says they're already at your door, you complete idiot. the same force that governs trans women's bodies will also be used against cis women. the censorship about supposed "DEI terms" will also be used to stifle science in general.

it won't just be idaho.

[capellla]

What is the reputation of your future spouse?

Choose whichever you are drawn to. This is a general reading and there is less options so this may not suit everyone. Take what resonates only.

Pick an Image

1 - 2 - 3

Paid Readings Feedbacks

1

This person is definitely a playboy and someone famous for his relationships. I definitely didn't expect to see this energy so clearly on the cards. Maybe meeting you will change him, maybe you're not attracting the right people right now. This person is someone who gets bored easily and sees people and his relationships with them as games. Additionally, this person is known for being rebellious and not listening to what people say, especially sincere suggestions. He does whatever he wants and no one can restrict him, even with good intentions. This person is also known for his wildness and lack of seriousness, he has a strange sense of humor. They have sharp eyes and draw you in, and it's hard not to be drawn or impressed by them. And those eyes are always on the people he attracted to and examining them. I can see why it's attractive. This person may also be famous for his relationship with his mother (for some of your future spouses). He may be working with her and may be notable for his relationship with her. This person has very advanced and big dreams. And he doesn't hesitate to follow them. This person may not like his father and may be doing his best not to be like him. This person is known for his luck and possessions.

2

This person is known for his financial acumen and the right choices he makes. This person is very well-read and knowledgeable. He may have completed more than one university. This person is also known for being distant from his family. Maybe he doesn't get along well with a sibling. This person is known for his serious relationships and taking his relationships very seriously. Additionally, this person may be an animal lover and whenever he sees a living creature on the street, he cannot help but love it. This person may have had difficulties in his youth and lived life a little more on the edge. Or, on the contrary, he may have spent his youth alone and questioning with a lacking perspective. This person respects the opposite sex. He has a broad perspective and is known for it. People also respect him, but some also pity him. (You shouldn't take people too seriously at the end.) This person is also known for a significant relationship, sex life, or empathy. (may vary for everyone.) This person will worship you and show you great respect (I had to write this message).

3

I don't know why, but Van Gogh comes to my mind. Maybe this person is known for his art, his diversity, his hard work, and yet he does not receive enough attention. He may have too many relationships. But this may be related to him not finding the right person or not believing that he will find her. Gorgeous, that's the word I hear and I see the sun card. This person is amazing. Very authentic and distinctive. He has a lot of potential and has a significant destiny. Many people may oppose this person or have difficulty understanding him. Because he is sincere and has a very different world. And it's a very special world. That world has deep oceans and bright stars that ordinary people cannot see or feel.

[dailyd0ses]

A Rose Without Thorns

Mama Rose from Gypsy on Broadway x Female Reader

The city never truly slept, but tonight, it felt emptier than usual. The neon glow of a burlesque marquee flickered in the distance, its bright letters spelling out a name that was once just a dream. Gypsy Rose Lee.

The name echoed in Rose’s head like a final curtain call she wasn’t ready to take. She sat on a bench in the biting cold, hands folded tightly in her lap, staring out into nothing. Her fur coat, the one she had worn proudly through countless auditions and backstage battles, suddenly felt heavier than it ever had before.

Louise was gone.

Not gone in the sense that she’d disappeared, but gone from her. Living her own life now, standing on her own. The moment should have been triumphant—Rose had spent years pushing her daughter toward stardom—but instead, it left a hollow ache inside her chest, one she wasn’t prepared for.

She had no more dreams left to chase. No more curtains to pull. No more daughters to push.

And for the first time in decades, she was alone.

That was how you found her.

You had been passing through the quiet streets when you saw her, hunched over on a park bench, her head bowed as if in prayer. But she wasn’t praying. She was crying—silent, restrained tears that barely made it past her lashes before she wiped them away with sharp, hurried movements.

Something about the sight of her struck you. Maybe it was the way her shoulders sagged, a stark contrast to the indomitable woman you had seen on stage before. You weren’t a stranger to her reputation; Rose Hovick was a name whispered with awe and sometimes fear in show business. A force of nature, people said. Unstoppable. Relentless.

But right now, she just looked... tired.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. "Are you alright, ma’am?"

Her head jerked up, eyes narrowing in immediate defense, but there was no real fight left in them. Only exhaustion. Her gaze flickered over you—calculating, assessing—before something in her softened just slightly.

"Do I look alright to you?" she replied, voice hoarse from holding back emotion.

You smiled gently, undeterred by her sharpness. "Not particularly."

She scoffed, a sound that was half a laugh and half a sigh. "Well, aren’t you observant."

There was a beat of silence before you took a seat beside her, leaving enough space so she wouldn’t feel crowded. She didn’t tell you to leave, which you took as a good sign.

"Rough night?" you asked.

Rose let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Try a rough life."

You nodded, as if you understood. Maybe you did, in your own way.

"You’re Rose, aren’t you?" you asked after a moment.

She turned her head toward you sharply, surprised. "And how would you know that?"

"I’ve seen you before," you admitted. "Watched your girls perform. But mostly, I watched you. You have a way of stealing a scene, even when you’re not trying to."

She huffed, but there was something close to amusement in her expression now. "Yeah? Well, that’s the damn problem, isn’t it? Stealing the scene don’t mean much when the show’s over."

Another silence fell between you. She wasn’t looking at you anymore, staring down at her gloved hands. They were fidgeting, like she needed something to do but couldn’t figure out what.

"You have somewhere to go?" you asked finally.

She hesitated.

Then, so quietly you almost missed it, she said, "Not anymore."

It wasn’t just about a place. It was about them. June had run off years ago. Herby—sweet, patient Herby—had finally had enough and left her. And now Louise...

She had always been the one to leave, never the one left behind.

But here she was.

You made a decision then. "Come with me."

Her head snapped toward you again, brows raised. "Excuse me?"

"I have an apartment not far from here," you explained. "It’s warm, and I make a decent cup of coffee."

She stared at you like you had just offered her the moon. "You’re inviting a perfect stranger into your home?"

You shrugged. "You’re not a stranger, not really. And besides, I don’t like seeing people like this. You look like you could use a place to rest."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but the words never came. Pride warred with exhaustion on her face, but exhaustion won.

Finally, she exhaled sharply and muttered, "Well. Guess I’ve done crazier things."

---

Your apartment was small but comfortable. Nothing extravagant, but homey in a way that Rose hadn’t felt in years. She stood in the middle of your living room, still wrapped in her coat, as if unsure whether she belonged there.

You disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two mugs of coffee, setting one on the table beside her. She eyed it warily before finally sinking onto the couch with a sigh.

"Not exactly how I expected my night to go," she muttered before taking a sip.

"Me neither," you admitted, watching her over the rim of your cup.

There was a pause before she said, almost to herself, "Men always leave."

The words hung heavy between you.

She looked up then, meeting your gaze fully for the first time since arriving. There was something unreadable in her expression—curiosity, maybe, or something deeper.

"Women, though..." she trailed off, as if she was just now considering the thought for the first time.

You tilted your head slightly. "What about them?"

She studied you, as if searching for something in your face. Then, with the faintest hint of a smirk, she said, "They’re different."

You weren’t sure if she was talking about all women or just you.

But either way, you didn’t mind.

And neither, it seemed, did she.

---

The night stretched on in quiet contemplation. Rose sat curled into the corner of your couch, one hand wrapped around her coffee mug, the other draped lazily over her lap. She was still wearing her fur coat, as if shedding it would leave her too vulnerable.

You let her sit in her silence, knowing that whatever she was working through, it wasn’t something that could be solved with simple conversation. You weren’t a stranger to heartache, to the weight of loneliness, but something about Rose’s presence in your living room—her stillness, her uncharacteristic quiet—felt heavier than any sorrow you’d seen before.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked suddenly.

You blinked at her over your coffee. "Shouldn’t I be?"

"People don’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts," she said, voice tinged with old bitterness. "Not in show business. Not in life."

You tilted your head, considering her. "I’m not asking for anything, Rose."

She let out a small, skeptical huff, but there was no fight behind it.

"And anyway," you continued, "I’ve been watching you for a long time. You’re... something else."

Her eyes snapped to yours, suddenly alert, as if you had struck something tender in her. "That so?"

You nodded. "You’re tough. Loud. Unapologetic. But right now, you look like you’re trying really hard not to fall apart."

Her grip on her coffee tightened.

For a moment, you thought she might snap at you—Rose was sharp-edged, and you knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who took well to being analyzed. But instead, she let out a low chuckle, shaking her head.

"Well, aren’t you a perceptive little thing?"

You shrugged. "I just see you, that’s all."

Another silence fell between you. Rose set her coffee down and leaned back into the couch, finally allowing herself to relax, just a little.

"I should’ve had a plan for this," she muttered. "I always had a plan."

"But not this time?"

She shook her head. "I never thought past Louise making it. That was the goal. That was always the goal. I figured once she made it, I’d... I don’t know. I thought I’d feel different."

"And do you?"

She gave a dry laugh. "I feel nothing."

You swallowed. You understood that, too well. The feeling of chasing something for so long only to reach the end and find nothing waiting for you.

"Then maybe it’s time you stopped living for everyone else," you said gently.

She looked at you then, really looked at you. Her gaze lingered, eyes dark and searching, as if she were trying to read something in your face that she hadn’t considered before.

There was a shift between you, an unspoken weight to the air.

It was Rose who looked away first.

"Men always left me, you know," she murmured. "Three husbands. Then Herby. Even my own damn father."

"I’m not a man," you said softly.

She smirked at that, a quiet, almost amused sound. "That’s what’s new about this, isn’t it?"

You raised an eyebrow.

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "I’ve spent my whole damn life being surrounded by men. Always needing them to get what I wanted. Always getting left behind in the end."

"And now?"

She met your eyes again, the smirk fading into something more uncertain. More vulnerable.

"I don’t know," she admitted. "But I do know I don’t wanna be alone tonight."

Your breath hitched at her words.

It wasn’t a declaration, not yet. But it was something. A thread between you, stretched and waiting to be pulled.

You set your coffee aside and stood. "Come on."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"

"To bed."

She blinked, and you saw the brief flash of guarded surprise in her eyes.

You chuckled. "Not like that, Rose."

She rolled her eyes, though there was a flicker of amusement there. "Oh, I know. If you were, you’d have to buy me dinner first."

You laughed. "Noted. But really—there’s a spare bed in the other room. You need rest."

She hesitated, clearly unused to accepting kindness without strings attached. But after a moment, she sighed and stood, stretching with a groan.

"Alright, alright. Lead the way."

You guided her to the small guest room. It wasn’t much—just a neatly made bed and a dresser—but it was warm, and right now, warmth was what she needed.

She stood in the doorway, eyeing the bed with a strange expression. "Haven’t slept in a bed that wasn’t in some crummy hotel in years," she muttered.

You leaned against the doorframe. "Then maybe this is a fresh start."

Rose let out a small, tired laugh as she toed off her heels. "Kid, I’m too old for fresh starts."

You shrugged. "I don’t think so."

She looked at you again, and for the first time since you found her on that bench, you saw something lighter in her expression. Something softer.

"Goodnight, Rose."

She gave a small nod. "Yeah. Goodnight, kid."

As you turned to leave, her voice stopped you.

"And... thanks."

You smiled. "Anytime."

[b1asho]

Some noises/stuff on their voice:

As said in the image, Prectikar all sound like theyre masculine to humans when speaking through their nose. Only male prectikar have a larger throat sac and special flaps in it to make their shrieks/barks/etc, females can only really do like a dog bark noise or the grumbles and soft-speak. As for the animals I included, Prectikar can't roar (yes that means they can purr) but they make a lot of other bear-like chuffs and snuffles. They can shriek and snort (which kind of sounds like a horse) bellow (similar to an alligator in noise, occasionally more like a cassowary or other rattite) and bark (similar to a seal), and if pushed the right way they can make a sort of elephant trumpet noise through their nose (also similar to an elephant are their deep-throated noises) They can also make some hoots and grunts that sound like a howler monkey or gorilla.

Rossetians sound like they have a stuffy nose to us (which doesn't help disperse their nerdy erm actually reputation). They make a lot of teeth clicks and tongue noises when speaking, and I included a marmot because they can make a noise around the pitch of a rossetian whistle. I also included a tapir for reference of some of their other squeal noises. They can also kind of moo like a cow but I forgot that.

Kixeli are very good at mimicry but occasionally will slide into more creaky and whistly speech instead of mostly human tones. They croak like toucans do, and also make a lot of other bird-ish chirps and beak claps. They make a lot of loud repeating noises like a kookaburra, and that jabbery/laughy noise is the vibe for how a lot of their vocalizations sound to the untrained ear. The African Gray's voice is close to what they sound like when not trying super hard at human speech, and can get more precise and even make inanimate object noises like a starling. Look up any monkey (macaque, gibbon, etc) screaming/hooting video if you want to k ow what they sound like when scared or very excited.

Cerest speak in short, controlled bursts, usually in a monotone. An almost electronic hum and buzziness is always a part of their natural voice, usually to the point where they're unintelligible. They can make some small trills and mews like a cat, or yowl if they align their throat right. Screaming like a mountain lion is a sundyne thing, drecu screams are like that but more like a cicada if that makes sense. Some of their other misc noises that come from airflow or just them moving their mouthparts and beak are like locusts, mole crickets, click beetles, and the capuchinbird. Depending on the quality of their artificial voice, they can sound either on a Miku level or shitty off-brand robot.

Using their non-host voice, Muttreazik range from microwave humming noises to ear bleeding high pitched shrieks or organ shuffling low pitches. I didn't really know how to draw that so no worms in this post yet again

[alarajrogers]

Commiserate with them. He's a liar, but the news media did their best to hide it, because if it bleeds it leads and they knew Trump would cause so much chaos and suffering, it'd be great for the news. It's not like the old days when reputable journalists ran the news; nowadays it's all giant billionnaire corporations, and all they care about is money, and screwing over little guys like us to make a buck. Honestly, you wanna know what's really going on, read foreign news media like the Guardian and stuff like that; they have laws that kept the billionnaires from buying all the news media over there, so they're still telling the truth at least some of the time. You're from Venezuela? Great! I'll bet you Mexican news sources are willing to tell you the truth about our leaders, though they'll lie to protect their own. As a native Spanish speaker, you have access to a world of news media I can't read. It's ok if you don't trust Venezuelan media, there's the entire continent of South America, plus Spain itself, and you can read any of it you want. It's all on line, just google it in Spanish. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. In today's world you can't blindly trust anyone; you have to do your own research, but there's so many crackpots and conspiracy theorists out there who are just making shit up to make a buck. I mean, did you know his ex-wife -- the dead one, the one he buried on his golf course -- wrote a memoir where he beat and raped her because she gave him a referral to a doctor for a hair implant and the doctor messed it up? I mean, she said afterward, no, she didn't mean to imply that he treated her badly... but she put it in there in black and white. I think she was scared of him. I mean, she ended up dead and he wouldn't allow an autopsy, and she got buried on his golf course. I'm from New York; we've been seeing this guy's shenanigans since the 80's, so I know, I wouldn't put anything past him. You know he was a really good friend of Jeffrey Epstein, right? Who died in prison the last time he was president? Yeah, obviously there's no proof of anything, but you gotta wonder. Anyway, you take care of yourself. It's a damn shame politicians get away with lying like that. I know we always joke that politicians lie, but this guy. Wow.

This kind of thing. You don't blame them for being taken in. You blame Trump for being a liar and the news media for collaborating. You don't mention Democrats and Republicans, you talk about "politicians", because on both sides of the aisle most people agree, politicians suck. You talk about billionnaires propping him up because they want to steal our money to make themselves richer. You express sympathy for them. Maybe, depending on your audience, drop some of the salacious conspiracy-like hints about Trump's behavior.

Meet them where they are, and offer them friendship and sympathy. You're a lot more likely to get them on our side that way.

[baekhyunsbestie]

⟢ : N 2 DEEP !?

BABY THAT P*SSY WAS

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ SO WORTH THE WAIT!

I WASN'T IN LOVE WITH

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ NONE OF THEM ANYWAY!

★ had a req for virgin!reader and another for baekhyun's pov n i thot???? why not wake my ovulation demon up by combining the two!!! experienced!baekhyun talking virgin!reader through it??? uh, yeaaaaah, sign me tf up 🫦

★ content: 18+/mdni. 3.4k+ words. baekhyun’s pov. baekhyun x virgin f!reader. ex-playboy!baekhyun. yandere!baekhyun. pet names: baby, angel, sweetheart, etc. also calls you his good girl <3333333 literally just pwp!! fingering + oral (fem receiving). virginity loss. p in v. breeding kink. bulge kink. creampies (baek's got breeder balls). overstimulation. raw juseyoooooo <3

i used to be a different man.

selfish. reckless. untouchable.

i lived for the chase, for the thrill, for the fleeting satisfaction of a conquest already won before the game even began. the night always ended the same—someone pressed against me, lips searching, hands wandering, desperate to be the one i wouldn’t forget.

but i always forgot.

because none of it mattered.

i had everything—looks, charm, a reputation that did all the work for me. doors opened before i even knocked. women sought me out, fingers grazing my skin before i could learn their names, their lips curving into coy smiles as they whispered empty promises in my ear.

they wanted to be wanted.

they wanted to tame me.

and for a while, i let them believe it was possible. let them think they were different, let them pretend they meant something.

but they never did.

because i never stayed.

i played the game, flashing lazy smirks, murmuring all the right words at all the right moments. i gave just enough to keep them coming back, just enough to make them believe there was something real buried underneath it all.

but there wasn’t.

love was just a pretty lie people told themselves so they wouldn’t feel alone.

then she came along.

the first girl who didn’t look at me like i was something to win. the first girl to look at me like i was an actual fucking person.

she was different from the moment i met her—poised, careful, untouchable in a way that made my fingers itch with the need to unravel her.

she didn’t lean in when i spoke. didn’t soften under the weight of my gaze. didn’t lower her walls just because i smiled at her.

she wasn’t impressed.

and fuck, that made me want her more.

but she was cautious. too cautious.

when i stepped closer, she took a step back. when i spoke, she met my eyes but kept her distance. she wasn’t rude—she was polite, measured, controlled in a way that told me she had already heard the stories.

she knew who i was.

what i was.

and she wanted nothing to do with me.

i should have walked away. found someone easier. someone who wouldn’t make my chest ache with frustration and longing.

but i couldn’t.

i wanted her. no—i needed her.

for the first time in my life, i chased.

and god, i chased hard.

i stopped looking at other women, stopped entertaining the attention that used to thrill me. stopped indulging in meaningless touches, in flirtation that never led anywhere real.

none of it mattered.

not if it wasn’t her.

so i waited.

for months, i played the long game. carefully. intentionally. i let her set the pace, let her keep her distance, let her watch me until she was ready to believe that i meant it.

and when she finally did—when she finally let me in—

i fell.

harder. deeper. completely.

and now, when she looks up at me with those wide, trusting eyes, her body trembling beneath mine, offering me the one thing she’s never given anyone else, i know—

she’s mine.

there’s no walking away now. no pretending this is something casual, something temporary.

because this? this is everything.

she is everything.

her skin is warm beneath my lips, trembling ever so slightly as i kiss my way down her body. every little shiver, every breathy sigh—i drink them in, savor them. she’s so sensitive, so responsive, it makes my stomach tighten with something primal, something possessive.

she doesn’t even know.

doesn’t know what she does to me, how long i’ve been waiting, craving, aching for this moment. she’s stretched out beneath me, bare, untouched, soft in a way that makes my teeth grind and my blood run hot. she’s mine, even if she doesn’t understand it yet.

her hands fist the sheets, her chest rising and falling in shaky, uneven breaths. she’s nervous. i can feel the tension in her thighs, the way her body trembles slightly under my touch.

“baby,” i murmur, smoothing my hands down her sides, slow and careful, feeling the way her stomach flutters beneath my touch. “are you sure?”

she nods, but i see the hesitation flickering in her gaze, the uncertainty in the way she swallows hard, like she’s trying to work up the courage to say it out loud.

so i guide her.

i catch her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at me.

“tell me,” i say softly, my thumb brushing along the curve of her jaw.

her lips part, but no words come out.

“sweetheart,” i whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, my voice gentle, firm, steady. “if you’re not ready, we don’t have to—”

“i am.”

her voice is quiet but certain, her fingers tightening around my arms like she’s afraid i might pull away.

“i want to do this. with you. i want you, baekhyun.”

fuck.

i exhale slowly, pressing my forehead against hers, breathing her in.

“i’ve waited so long for you,” i murmur, tracing my fingers over her collarbone, watching the way her pulse flutters beneath my touch.

she exhales shakily, hands sliding up my chest, warm and tentative.

“yeah? for how long?”

“since the first night i met you.”

her breath catches. “b-but i—”

“hah, i know,” i chuckle, cutting her off, my lips ghosting over hers. “you didn’t want anything to do with me, huh?”

she swallows, looking guilty, but i kiss her before she can apologize.

“you were right to be cautious,” i murmur against her lips. “but i changed for you, sweetheart. i waited for you. i’d do it again if it meant i could have you like this. all to myself.”

her hands cup my face, her thumbs brushing over my cheekbones, and for a moment, she just looks at me.

searching.

memorizing.

and i let her see everything.

the devotion.

the patience.

the undeniable, unshakable truth that she belongs to me now.

she trusts me.

and i'll fucking die before i break that trust.

so when i spread her open, pressing my lips between her thighs, i take my time.

i let her feel every slow, deliberate touch, every lingering kiss, every whispered praise.

she’s already trembling, body pliant under my hands, her thighs twitching where they frame my shoulders. warm, soft, dripping for me, waiting. she doesn’t even realize how far gone she is, how much i’ve unraveled her already.

“so fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart—so fuckin’ sweet,” i murmur, voice thick, heavy with heat. my tongue flicks against her, teasing, coaxing, savoring.

a sharp gasp escapes her lips, her fingers tangling in my hair, trying to push me closer, trying to pull me away—she doesn’t know what she wants anymore.

i groan into her, drunk on the slick coating my lips, my chin, my fingers. “shh,” i soothe, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh, holding her down as she squirms beneath me. “just relax, love. lemme take care of you.”

she’s still trembling when i slide a finger inside her, feeling her tense, feeling the way her walls clutch around me, untested and impossibly tight.

“breathe, angel,” i whisper, my free hand smoothing over her stomach, pressing down lightly, making her feel every motion, every stretch. “you’re doing so well.”

she whimpers, a broken sound, her hands fisting the sheets. overwhelmed. drowning.

“hey,” i murmur, my tone firm, commanding, anchoring her. “look at me, baby.”

her eyes find mine, wide, unfocused, wrecked.

“ya feel that?” i breathe, curling my fingers just right, stroking that spot that has her back arching off the bed. she lets out a sharp cry, her thighs clamping around my head. “that's how you’re gonna feel when i fuck ya full of my cock.”

she trembles, gripping at my arms, teetering on the edge, fighting the stretch but craving more.

i press another kiss to her clit before pulling back, watching her.

she looks ruined—flushed, panting, trembling, her lips swollen from biting them too hard.

and i haven’t even started.

“want you to count for me, angel,” i instruct, pressing my fingers deeper inside her, twisting them just enough to make her whine.

“h-huh?”

i smirk, dragging my tongue up her slit, flicking against her clit before pulling back. “every time you cum, i want ya to count. think ya can do that for me?”

she nods, but i grip her thigh, making her gasp.

“words, baby.”

“y-yes,” she stutters, already breathless. “i can.”

“that’s my good girl,” i praise, before sealing my mouth over her again, sucking her clit into the heat of my tongue.

she thrashes, moaning, pulling at my hair as i work her open, fucking her with my fingers, curling just right, coaxing, dragging, pulling her under.

“baek—i—oh my god—fuck!” her words dissolve into broken sobs, her body tensing, her orgasm slamming into her, making her shake apart beneath me.

“one,” i murmur against her soaked skin, kissing her clit as she writhes.

but i don’t stop.

i don’t give her time to recover before i press my tongue against her again, relentless, insatiable.

“too much—” she chokes out, but her body betrays her, hips grinding into my face, chasing more.

“mm, mm, baby,” i groan, fucking my fingers into her deeper, letting her feel it, letting her drown in it. “’m not stoppin’ ‘til i hear ya count again.”

she sobs, her thighs trembling, but she can’t resist me, can’t fight the way i make her feel, can’t stop the next wave from crashing over her.

“t-two,” she gasps, barely a whisper.

i smirk, dragging my tongue slow and deep over her folds.

“good girl. now gimme another.”

i pull her back in, take her apart again, and again, and again.

by the time she hits four, she’s shaking so hard she can barely breathe, her voice breaking on my name, her body helpless, pliant, wrecked beneath me.

i finally pull back, wiping my chin with the back of my hand, watching her struggle to open her eyes, her chest heaving, her skin flushed all over.

“you okay, angel?” i murmur, brushing her damp hair back from her face.

she barely manages a nod, eyes glazed, lips parted, her body still twitching from the aftershocks.

i hover over her, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, her temple, her lips—reassuring her, grounding her.

“you did so well,” i praise, kissing her softly, gently, letting her feel just how much i adore her.

but then i press my cock against her entrance, dragging the thick head through the mess i made of her.

“now,” i whisper, voice dark with intent. i let the tip of my cock drag through the slick mess between her thighs, teasing her, pressing against her entrance but not pushing in yet. her breath stutters, her hips instinctively rolling up, chasing friction.

so desperate already. so easy to ruin.

“let’s see if ya can count for me again.”

her eyes flutter open, glazed over, unfocused. her lips are swollen, bruised, parted as she pants, barely catching her breath from how i’ve already wrung her out. but she’s still hungry for more. she’s still gripping at my arms, still trembling beneath me, waiting for me to give it to her.

“this is the part where you tell me if you want to stop,” i murmur, even though i already know she won’t.

she doesn’t hesitate.

“i don’t want you to stop.”

mine.

fucking mine.

the second i push in, i know i’m fucked.

not just in the way i’m used to—not in that fleeting, skin-deep, feel-good-for-a-moment kind of way. this is different. she is different. and the way she’s clenching around me, the way she’s looking at me like i’m the only person in the world—i’m done for.

i’ve had plenty before. too many to count. never cared to remember. i’ve fucked for the sake of fucking, for release, for the thrill of it. but this? this isn’t just sex. this is something i need. something i’ll never be able to forget, even if i wanted to.

she’s so tight, so warm, gripping me like she was made for me, and the thought alone nearly sends me over the edge. no one’s ever felt like this before. no one’s ever been like this before.

i watch her face, see every little change—the way her brows pinch, her lips part, her breath stutters. i know it’s her first time, and fuck, the thought of being the first and only makes something primal claw at my insides. i have to breathe through it, force myself to stay in control, because all i want to do is claim. mark her, ruin her, make sure she never forgets this either.

“you okay?” i rasp, voice rough, strained. i don’t even realize how hard i’m gripping her hips until i see the way my fingers dig into her skin.

she nods, lips trembling just slightly. “y-yeah. i’m good, baby. it’s okay, keep going.”

i press in deeper, slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch. her nails bite into my arms, her thighs tense around me, and fuck, she’s taking me so well. too well. i can’t think straight. i can’t fucking breathe.

“so fuckin’ perfect,” i murmur, my forehead dropping against hers. my heart’s hammering in my chest, my pulse racing, but it’s not just from how good she feels—it’s her. it’s the way she looks at me, the way she trusts me, the way i know—i know—i can never go back after this.

she gasps, her nails digging into my back, legs wrapping around me to hold me there, like she needs me to fill every inch of her.

i kiss her temple, soothing her even as she clenches around me, whispering into her skin.

“breathe, baby,” i murmur, stroking her hair back, kissing her cheek, her jaw. “you’re doing so well. it’s okay. you can let me in.”

i go slow.

soft kisses. whispered encouragement. steady hands keeping her safe.

when i bottom out, when she takes all of me, i groan against her lips, my arms tightening around her.

“baekhyun,” she whispers, voice trembling, wrecked, drowning in me. “y'feel so—hah—so good.”

“oh, yeah? so do you, baby,” i breathe, rolling my hips, slow but deliberate, savoring the way she clenches down on me. fuck, she’s tight—gummy walls hugging my cock, gripping me like a fucking vice. like she doesn’t want to let me go.

like she couldn’t even if she tried.

it’s taking everything in me not to lose it, not to fuck her too hard, not to fill her up right here and now.

“you’re mine, baby,” i murmur against her lips, voice thick with need. i slide a hand up, cradling her cheek, my thumb tracing her lips. “you’re doing so well.”

her breath stutters, breaking into a moan as she tries to adjust, fingers dragging down my back, pressing her nails into my skin. she’s trusting me, giving me everything.

“that’s it,” i praise, voice soft but firm, kissing her temple, the corner of her mouth, anywhere i can reach.

when she starts moving with me, when she stops fighting it, stops trying to hold herself back—

i reward her.

“so, so good for me,” i murmur, kissing her deep, swallowing her little cries as i thrust into her, rolling my hips slow, deep. “so fuckin’ perfect, baby. taking me so well.”

her legs tighten around me, heels digging into my lower back, pulling me in, keeping me there.

“god, i fuckin' love you,” i rasp, the confession slipping past my lips, raw and unfiltered.

she whimpers, pulling me closer, chest to chest, breath mingling with mine.

“i love you, too, baby,” she gasps, voice shaking, wrecked.

then—

“hah—sh-shit, baek. you’re s-so big,” she whimpers, head tilting back. “i can feel you right here.”

her trembling hand presses against her lower stomach.

and i see it.

the thick outline of my cock bulging through, stretching her open, proof of how fucking deep i am.

and it fucking breaks me.

“holy shit—” i groan, something primal snapping inside me as my hips snap forward, pounding into her, fucking her harder, rougher.

her cry is sharp, breathless, her fingers curling into the sheets as she takes it, lets me chase my release, lets me ruin her.

“nngghh—fuck, baby,” i pant, dropping my head to her shoulder, my teeth grazing her skin before biting down, leaving a deep mark against her collarbone. “gonna fuckin’ cum—gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

i spill inside her, my body locking up as i empty myself, pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep into her.

but i don’t stop.

my cock is still throbbing, still rock-hard, still buried deep inside her, and she flinches when i pull back just enough to thrust in again.

“b-baekhyun—i can’t!” she gasps, nails digging into my arms, her body shaking from how sensitive she is.

i groan, grinding deeper, my forehead dropping against hers.

“shh, baby,” i whisper, pressing kisses to her cheek, her jaw, her swollen lips. “you can take it. i know ya can.”

she whimpers, body arching into mine, her walls fluttering around me, already on the verge of another orgasm.

“ya feel that, baby?” i rasp, pressing my palm over her stomach, feeling myself inside her. “that’s all me.”

i shift, angling my hips just right, and she cries out, her head tilting back, her throat exposed, body trembling beneath me. her nails rake down my arms, dragging over my back, leaving angry red lines in their wake. marking me. claiming me. and fuck, it only fuels me.

makes me want to give her more.

makes me want to fuck her so good she doesn’t just feel me now, but tomorrow. for days.

her back arches off the bed, hips lifting to meet every deep, controlled thrust, chasing it, needing it. and i give it to her, steady and deliberate, my cock pulsing inside her, my body working hers open all over again.

“gonna fill ya up again, sweetheart,” i groan, voice hoarse, raw with hunger. “gonna take care of you. you want that, right?”

“yes, baek! fuck—wanna milk you dry. wanna have your babies,” she moans, her voice breaking against my lips, her legs tightening around me, keeping me locked in, keeping me buried so deep i can barely think straight.

and fuck—hearing her say it, hearing how filthy she sounds, how much she wants this, wants me—it nearly unravels me right there.

i could cum from that alone.

but i want to cum with her this time.

want to fuck it back into her while she arches her back, while she moans against my lips like she’s singing for me, like every sound she makes is meant for me and me only.

“that’s it, baby,” i whisper, my lips brushing over hers, coaxing, guiding, leading her exactly where i want her. “just let go. let me have you.”

and she does.

she falls apart beneath me, her body tensing, her walls fluttering, squeezing me tight—too tight—like she’s trying to pull me deeper, drag me under with her. her moans crack into sobs, her thighs trembling as the pleasure overtakes her completely, raw and overwhelming.

“f-five,” she gasps, the word barely leaving her lips, her body still wracked with aftershocks.

but i’m not done.

i grip her thighs, pushing them up, pressing them against her chest, folding her into a mating press, my body caging hers in.

her breath catches.

her eyes go wide.

she’s already sensitive, already on the edge of breaking all over again.

“one more, baby,” i rasp, grinding into her, rolling my hips slow, deep, making sure she feels every thick inch of me pressing into her, filling her to the brim.

she whimpers, fingers clawing at my forearms like she’s holding on for dear life.

“can ya do that for me?” i murmur, kissing her lips, her cheek, her throat. “one more, love. i know ya can.”

she nods frantically, lost in it, lost in me, in the stretch, the heat, the overwhelming pressure of it all.

“words, sweetheart,” i remind her, pushing in deeper, making her sob.

“y-yes,” she cries, voice shaking, already on the brink. “i can—i can—”

her body locks up, every muscle tightening as she clenches down around me, hard, her whole frame trembling, her moans dissolving into desperate, breathless cries as she cums again—one last time.

and when i feel her tip over the edge, when i feel her walls tighten around me like she’s trying to take every last drop—

i don’t hold back.

“shit—” i groan, my hips snapping forward, burying myself to the hilt, grinding deep as i spill inside her, filling her up just like i promised.

hot, thick ropes of my release coat her walls, my cock pulsing with every shuddering breath, every sharp inhale, my body trembling from the sheer force of it.

but i don’t move right away.

i let her feel it. feel me.

feel the way i stretch her full, how i keep her stuffed, plugged up, making sure not a single drop escapes—like her body was made to take me, to keep me.

she’s still trembling, still pulsing around me, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants as the aftershocks ripple through her. i stay inside, refusing to pull away, letting her feel every inch of me even as her body melts into the mattress, boneless, ruined, perfect.

i press lazy kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth—soft, slow, reverent.

“mine,” i murmur, voice thick with possession, my fingers threading through her damp hair, smoothing it back. i stroke gentle patterns into her skin, grounding her, anchoring her to me as she drifts, her lashes fluttering, lips parted, body completely spent.

“always,” i whisper, sealing my promise with one last kiss.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ i think this helped me get me outta my lil writing slump :') hope u guys like it n got pregnant from it!!! i know i sure as hell did!! ​but also???? writing in his pov was soooo much fun omg!!!! made me wish i had a dick omg i’d b unstoppable 😭 as always, lmk what u think hehe 💗💖💗💞🩷💝💘💝💗

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[00valentina-writes00]

Abby with a mommy kink???? Like she calls reader mommy,lovesss to suck on your nippless Abby, 🤭🤭

✞⛧ Abby with a mommy kink ✞⛧

(headcanons and a smut to go with it)

✞⛧ Abby’s mommy kink didn’t start as a conscious thing—it kinda slipped out one night when you were taking care of her, rubbing the knots out of her shoulders after a long day. She mumbled it without thinking, and the moment it left her lips, her whole body tensed like she’d been caught doing something illegal.

✞⛧ She’s got major control issues, always has. She grew up in a military-style environment under the Fireflies, where discipline and self-sufficiency were drilled into her. Depending on someone, letting go, being taken care of? That’s not something she allows herself often. So the fact that it feels good when you take charge? It messes with her head in the best way.

✞⛧ At first, she resists it. Avoids saying it again, even if it’s all she can think about when you cup her jaw and make her look at you. She’s too proud, too stubborn, but god, the second you notice and push her just right? She’s done for.

✞⛧ It’s not just sexual (though it absolutely is that too). It’s about trust. Abby doesn’t trust easily—she’s been betrayed, she’s had people taken from her, she’s had to be the strong one for so long. Calling you mommy is an act of surrender, of admitting she doesn’t always want to be the one in control. That sometimes, she just wants to be told she’s good, to rest her head in your lap while you scratch her scalp and tell her you’ll take care of her.

✞⛧ You start to notice the way she craves direction in everyday life, too. She’s decisive when it comes to survival, to battle tactics, to keeping people safe—but when it’s about herself? What to eat? When to rest? She hesitates. It’s like she was never taught to put herself first. So when you tell her, “Sit, baby. Let me take care of you,” and she melts immediately, you realize just how much she needs it.

✞⛧ The duality of Abby Anderson—towering, muscled, and terrifying to most people, but soft for you in a way that would ruin her reputation if anyone else knew. She can throw a grown man across the room, but the second you murmur, “Good girl,” in her ear? Her knees buckle.

✞⛧ Her mommy issues run deep. She was raised by her father, and after losing him, she latched onto other authority figures—first the Fireflies, then the WLF. But none of them cared for her the way a mother would. So when you do, when you hold her and praise her and tell her she’s doing so well, it scratches an itch in her brain she didn’t even know she had.

✞⛧ She thrives under structure. She’s disciplined, she likes routines, she’s used to strict rules—so when you set boundaries, tell her no when she’s overworking herself, make her listen? She doesn’t just want that, she needs it.

✞⛧ If she ever acts up, it’s because she wants you to put her back in her place. Not that she’d ever admit it. But the bratty remarks, the testing your patience, the way she pushes—it’s all just her way of begging you to correct her. And when you finally do? When you grab her by the jaw, make her look at you, remind her who’s in charge? She’s gone.

✞⛧ And the best part? She doesn’t have to pretend with you. With everyone else, she’s Abby Anderson, the soldier, the protector, the one who never lets anyone see weakness. But with you? She’s just your girl. Your good girl. And fuck, does she love that.

✞⛧ Abby’s puppy dog eyes are a weapon she’s learned to wield subtly—they’re not just for when she wants attention, but for when she needs something more emotional. When she locks eyes with you, there’s a vulnerability in her gaze that belies her tough, soldier persona. It’s almost like she’s asking permission to soften, to be cared for, to fall apart. The way she looks up at you from beneath those lashes, breath shaky, as if she’s trying to hide just how much she needs your affection, melts something in you every time.

✞⛧ When Abby calls you mommy in bed, it’s like a trigger. At first, it’s a quiet thing, almost hesitant, but over time, it becomes a way for her to express just how much she trusts you with her submissive side. The word leaves her lips in a hushed moan, a bit breathless, as she waits for your reaction. She doesn’t just say it for pleasure—she says it because it grounds her, makes her feel safe in the vulnerability of the moment. It’s almost like she’s reminding herself that with you, she can let go of all the responsibility, all the weight she carries.

✞⛧ When Abby has her head resting against your chest, it’s like she’s melting into you. The sturdy, solid Abby who can fight off anyone becomes this tender, soft woman who craves your warmth and protection. She breathes deeply, listening to your heartbeat, like she’s trying to memorize the rhythm of your life. Her hands instinctively find their way to your body, exploring your chest with the same tenderness she doesn’t often show the world. Sometimes, her face gets buried into you, her body language screaming that she wants nothing more than to be wrapped up in your arms and cared for in the most simple, quiet way.

✞⛧ Abby’s the type to get obsessed with sucking on your nipples when she’s feeling needy. It’s not just for pleasure—it’s a way for her to feel close, to ground herself in something so intimate and nurturing. When she pulls you close, one hand gripping the side of your body, the other trailing over your skin to your chest, there’s a desperation to it. The way she wraps her lips around you, her eyes fluttering shut as she sucks gently, is an act of complete surrender. She’s not just seeking your touch; she’s asking for validation, for you to let her know she’s worthy of this attention, this affection.

✞⛧ Abby can be downright whiny when she’s craving your attention, and it’s almost like she forgets how to ask for things politely. She’ll get frustrated, annoyed, or even pouty when she doesn’t get her way, especially when she’s feeling overwhelmed and needs you to remind her that it’s okay to let go. You’ll catch her whining, “C’mon, Mommy, please,” in the softest voice, the desperation clear in her tone, as she seeks comfort or reassurance. She can’t help it—when she feels like she’s losing control, she wants you to pull her back in, to make her feel wanted and safe.

✞⛧ When you use your strap on her, it’s intimate—the act itself more than just physical. There’s a rawness in her submission, her hands gripping the sheets or your body as you move with a pace that she needs—sometimes slow, sometimes harder, but always controlled, always deliberate. The moment she feels you push inside her, it triggers something deep in her chest—this quiet, almost desperate need for connection. She might groan softly or whisper “Mommy” under her breath, the word coated in desire, longing, and trust. She wants to feel owned in that moment, but also cared for, protected as she allows you to fill her up.

Smut smut smut smut smut:

The air inside the tent is thick with the scent of sweat and desire, the sound of Abby’s ragged breaths filling the space as she arches her back against the bedroll. Her strong, muscular frame trembles beneath you, her sun-kissed skin slick with the heat of your bodies pressed together. You can feel the tension in her broad shoulders, the way her powerful thighs clench around your hips as you hover above her, the strap-on harness snug against your own arousal. Her blue eyes lock onto yours, a mix of hunger and vulnerability shimmering in their depths, and for a moment, the world outside—the post-apocalyptic ruin, the danger, the loss—melts away. All that matters is her.

“Mommy,” she whispers, her voice low and raspy, her lips parting as she looks up at you with a pleading intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. Her calloused hands reach up, fingers gripping the straps of your tank top, and you feel the urgency in her touch as she pulls you closer. “Please… I need you.”

You don’t hesitate. You lean down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, feeling the heat of her mouth against yours. Her tongue brushes against your lower lip, teasing, testing, and you open for her, letting her deepen the kiss as your hands roam over her body. You trace the scars on her arms, the raised lines that tell the story of her survival, and you marvel at the strength in her frame, the way her muscles flex beneath your fingertips. She’s so powerful, so capable, and yet here she is, surrendering to you completely.

Her hands move to the hem of your tank top, tugging it up and over your head, and you feel the cool air of the tent against your flushed skin. Her eyes darken as they roam over your chest, her breath hitching as she takes in the sight of your breasts, the hard peaks of your nipples begging for her attention. She doesn’t keep you waiting. Her calloused hands are surprisingly gentle as they cup your breasts, her thumbs brushing over your nipples, and you gasp at the sensation, the electric jolt it sends through your body.

“Mommy,” she murmurs again, her voice dripping with need, and then her mouth is on you, her lips closing around one nipple as she sucks greedily. You moan, your hips bucking involuntarily against the strap-on still nestled against her, and she lets out a muffled whimper around your breast, her tongue swirling over the sensitive bud. Her other hand moves to your second nipple, pinching and rolling it between her fingers, and you can’t help but cry out, the dual sensations overwhelming you. She’s devouring you, sucking and teasing until you’re trembling above her, your thighs slick with your own arousal.

“Abby,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you reach down to position the strap-on against her entrance. She’s already so wet, her folds glistening in the dim light of the tent, and you can feel her trembling with anticipation as you press the tip against her. She whimpers into your breast, her hips lifting off the bedroll as she tries to take more of you, and you can’t hold back any longer. With a slow, deliberate thrust, you slide into her, the sensation of her tight warmth around the silicone making your head spin.

“Fuck,” she moans, her lips leaving your breast as she throws her head back, her neck exposed as she gasps for air. Her hands grip the bedroll, her knuckles whitening as you start to move, rocking your hips against her in a steady rhythm. You can feel every inch of her around you, the way her walls clench and flutter as you thrust into her, and it’s enough to make you dizzy. She’s so tight, so perfect, and you can’t stop the primal groan that escapes your lips as you pick up the pace.

Her hips meet yours with every thrust, her body moving in sync with yours, and you can feel the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. Her hands move to your hips, her fingers digging into your skin as she pulls you closer, urging you deeper, and you obey, driving into her with a force that makes her cry out. Her back arches off the bedroll, her chest pressing against your stomach as her lips find your nipple again, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin as she moans around you.

“Mommy, please,” she gasps, her voice breaking as she looks up at you, her eyes wide with desperation. “I’m so close… I need…”

You know what she needs. You adjust your angle slightly, your hips grinding against hers as you thrust into her, hitting that spot inside her that makes her scream. Her body convulses beneath you, her walls tightening around you as she comes, her lips still latched onto your breast as she sucks and moans like she’s trying to milk every last drop of pleasure from you. You keep thrusting, drawing out her orgasm until she’s trembling, her hands gripping your hips so tightly it’s almost painful.

Finally, she collapses back onto the bedroll, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Her hands fall to her sides, her body limp and sated, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of her, so completely undone by you. She looks up at you, her blue eyes soft and hazy with pleasure, and she reaches up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Mommy,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, and then her eyes flutter shut, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, and for a moment, the world feels right. She’s safe. She’s yours. And nothing else matters.

[ahamkara-apologist]

Pisses me off that people insist on calling Drifter a rat (slur) when 'viper' is literally right there. Like, if you want an animal-based insult that amounts to someone being cunning and sneaky and untrustworthy despite that not fitting the actual animal at all, then that's an alternative that's far more generalized. Plus there's the added bonuses of:

1.) It's literally his sigil. Gambit is snake-themed. There's snake stuff all over it, even moreso than hunter stuff (despite our sigils literally having snakes). Like, hello

2.) Vipers are typically very big on the whole 'don't be seen, if seen, bluff about how big and scary and mean you are, then bite as a last resort (or unless stepped on, in which case bite first)'. That's Drifter. Drifter's whole shtick was that his 'I'm a bad guy I'm gonna do illegal shit with you ooohhh watch out I'm the Drifter' thing was all an act to keep people at bay bc he's actually a sweet, caring fellow who's scared of being hurt. Most vipers are typically fairly chill, inquisitive snakes whose awful bite is only given after a hell of a lot of bark. It fits

3.) Jumping off the previous point, vipers give live birth and are one of the snakes with the most complex parental care and social structures that we currently know of- rattlesnakes recognize friends and blood family, gather together in communal denning sites, babysit their relative's neonates, and form (what seems to be) some mode of either mutual tolerance or friendship with garter snakes (another communally denning species). They're an animal with a scary look and reputation that are actually quite gentle and fearful despite their dangerous bite. Again, that's Drifter-coded

You really don't need to use a slur to begin with tbh but like, if you really need affectionate insults for funny dialogue or w/ever, there's alternatives out there that work just as well without the racism. You don't need some long-winded, contrived excuse

[theminecraftbee]

I am also once again saying that a contract doesn’t have to be something fancy or scary! it just needs to be written down, dated, and signed. you just want immutable legal proof of what was agreed to, who owns what, to what extent who owns what, what they’re allowed to use it for, and how and when you’re all getting paid.

so. you know. in case your boss locks all of you out of the github repo for a project you never signed over the full ip rights for in perpetuity or something you have written proof that you should be allowed to get that back from him and it’s less thorny if you have to get ip lawyers involved. and you can definitively show people that you were writing these documents and you know who owns what.

also: so your boss knows what happens if you ever decide you’re worried about your reputation if your ip remains involved and who actually owns the ip if he ever proves himself to be a horrible boss and a horrible person and decides to lock everyone out of said repo as a form of fucked-up dragging everyone down with him and his reputation instead of doing anything reasonable for his employees at any point.

you know.

for no reason in particular.

for no reason in particular, i am once again saying that even if the work you're doing is with a content creator you love and on a project you're all passionate about and you trust everyone involved and they would never, say, ghost everyone involved for months leaving you in legal limbo in regards to the ip you've spent the past three years of your life on while everyone is clamoring for a statement or any guidance at all from you...

you should write a fucking contract.

and if someone tells you "we don't need contracts it'll be better that way", run the other direction.

you know. for no reason in particular.

[renard-dartigue]

You know, Kendrick receiving the grammys is well deserved. However, a part of me worries about him. On GNX, specifically in 'Wacced out Murals' and 'Reincarnated', Kendrick took his beef with Drake seriously. He was genuinely worried that he and/or his loved ones might be killed. Obviously for us as spectators, it's easy to see this stuff as just music. But the often misunderstood culture this music comes from, while beautiful and inspiring, can become dangerous real quick. It's happened before with Tupac and Biggie.

So naturally Kendrick wasn't going to play around. In a way, he's almost lucky Drake is a poser. Drake may have some dangerous connections or knows someone with dangerous connections given how long he's been in the industry. Thankfully, aside from Drake's bodyguard getting injured, there were no casualties in this beef aside from Drake's reputation and some of Kendrick's friendships.

I'll be honest, the night Meet the Grahams dropped, I was terrified. I saw people joking around about how the track itself scared them. Me, I was scared something bad was going to happen to Kendrick. Either Drake or a benefactor puts out a hit on him. I was so stressed I could barely sleep, scared I'd wake up to tragic knews. Some people joked about how Drake would have to kill Kendrick after this, not realizing that there was a non zero percent chance that could have happened.

And it's clear in GNX that Kendrick was slightly worried as well. 'Reincarnated' highlights that the beef really did mess with him psychology. Not because of anything Drake did but because of the stuff he himself did. Given what we know about Kendrick's character, a dedicated religious father who seeks to uplift his community through song, this beef made him realize some things about himself he never knew.

I personally think Kendrick regrets writing Meet the Grahams. While he may still agree with everything he said, he probably feels ashamed that he let the his emotions get the better of him. Drake slandering his family and childhood friend ignighted a hatered in him he truely didn't realize he was capable of. There is no denying that the song will forever impact not just Drake but his family too, especially Adonis. He might think he took things a step too far.

After cooling off, he likely wrote Not Like Us as a pallet cleanser. Just to deescalate the beef a little. And because it was released soon after the ominous track that is Meet the Grahams, the lighter track hit harder.

Man I feel like I'm just rambling now, point is that I hope Kendrick is doing okay mentally. He portrays himself as tough and unbothered on the outside, likely a coping mechanism he developed while growing up in Compton. But his music proves that he has a big heart and is extremely passionate about hip-hop. I hope he doesn't feel like he just put on some big spectacle for outsider to laugh and clap at before returning to the status quo. He's bringing hip-hop back to it's more authentic roots. It won't happen in a day, but it's a step in the right direction for the genre. And it was going to happen with or without him receiving awards.

[n0cturnalp1g]

Blood of My Blood

Summary: An argument ends with the death of a lord and a husband enraged. Characters: Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader!Hightower. Ormund Hightower Word Count: 1,291 Chapter Warnings: Not Edited. Mention of Violence and Death. Hints of Misogyny and Patriarchy (ew!).

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Stupid child.”

You closed your eyes and ignored the words that escaped your Uncle’s lips. It wasn’t your error but of Gwayne’s but you didn’t want him to deal with your Uncle Ormund’s wrath, you could take it better than him, knowing you will be leaving after all was said and done–unlike him.

“The reports you’ve provided weren’t sufficient enough.” You said looking straight at him daring him to say otherwise. “Or do you want me to elaborate how this is more your fault than it is mine?”

You clenched your hands together when he threw the parchment right onto your face. Your Uncle hated to be undermined and you loved to get under his skin whatever means necessary. He was no better than your father, the only thing he had that you father didn’t was being the eldest son–nothing more, nothing less. As cruel and neglectful as your father was, he knew how to live and how to work, something Ormund did not inherit for his own use.

“Are we done, Uncle?”

“You are to address me as your Lord. Or have you forgotten your place already?”

“As far as I remember, I do not have a place here, you’ve made a point to constantly state as such, My Lord.”

“What place should a woman like you have under my ward? Constantly disrespecting me and my rules.”

“I am the wife of a Prince, by marriage and by reputation, I am now of a higher standing and position compared to you, Uncle.”

You refused to acknowledge your marriage and the power and reputation of your new husband, but at this moment of time, you had no other choice.

“Is that what you father made you believe?” He cackled, earning a shiver down your spine. “You and Alicent are nothing more than whore for the sake of the family name. If it means selling you to the Targaryens for the sake of power.”

At the mention of your sister, you snapped. Your left hand was burning, but the satisfying echo of your hand slapping your uncle’s cheek was worth it. What came next made it even more so when he slapped you right back before his hand gripped onto your hair.

Before the gasp could escape your lips, his other hand found its way around your neck, cutting air from your lungs and cutting what little chance of help you could muster in your state.

“Pathetic that you think you could even touch me, you wretched woman!” He spat. “You and your sister think you are above me and my reign? But you are nothing more than meat offered to dragons, your sister will most likely die the same death as the King’s first wife and you will have the same fate as your husband’s first wife!”

“I can have your tongue cut for your words against my sister and our husbands.” You were barely able to threaten, but it was enough to earn a cackle from the man.

Cruel, this was what you’ve always hated about being in Oldtown. Of the abuse that your father will never know and you had forced your brother never to admit to anyone. You were simply called the Wretched Hightower for you constantly going against the grain and it constantly ended with you being punished for it, accepting even the punishment that was meant for your brother and sister if it meant protecting them from the harsh treatment you were constantly enduring.

“I want to see you try, you whore.”

You could feel the black spots lingering in your sight before it was replaced with red instead. Splatters of blood that sprayed onto the air and eventually painted your face–before you met with the half of your Uncle’s head decapitated.

The hands holding you finally loosen and you were met with the sight of your husband, with sheer fury in his eyes as he held onto his sword. His lilac eyes looked down at the now fallen Lord Hightower before turning his gaze to you.

“Are you alright?”

You did not know what possessed you in this moment, but the tears finally fell. For the first time, someone had defended you against your Uncle. You found yourself wrapped gently in your husband’s arms as he soothed you in your sobs.

“Let’s go home.” He whispered gently pulling you away from him, his bent forwards to look right at you, his hands wiping away the blood that lingered on your face.

Even with the blood that completely painted his face, you saw him in a different light. It scared you that someone like him would act so gentle with you after committing murder–it was his duty to protect you it seems, whatever means necessary.

Before you could nod, the scream from one of the servants had you turn, but was pulled right back into the arms of Daemon, as his sword was lifted pointed threateningly towards the shaken servant.

“Your Lord has spoke ill of the King and the Queen and I have refused to keep him alive after he raised his hand at my wife.” Daemon spoke boldly. “Now have this cleaned up.” He barked as the servant immediately left leaving the two of you alone once again.

“Let’s go back.” You whispered finally finding your voice finally.

“Let’s pack your things and have you cleaned up.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “We don’t want to have Caraxes reject you for smelling like that cunt of a Hightower.”

“Hey!” You protested offended now.

“You are now under the house of Targaryen, and I will be damned if I allow you to ever use the Hightower name ever again.”

~

“Fuck.” You winced, licking your lips and feeling the sting on your busted lips.

“It will heal.” Daemon spoke from behind you.

For everything that had happened, the last thing you would have ever expected to do in your lifetime was riding an actual dragon with your husband. The same husband that just hours ago sliced off half of your own Uncle’s head as revenge for raising his hand at you.

Now you were both heading back to the Red Keep. But after everything that has happened and the repercussions that you were certain you would have to face, you would rather just ran away all over again–even if it meant jumping a thousand feet off the dragon that somehow earned a fixation over you since your husband insisted on your patting on the monster’s nose.

“You will say nothing, do nothing when you are questioned of your Uncle’s demise. I will ensure your honor and your innocence in the matter.” He spoke as if reading  your mind.

“Why would you do that?” You couldn’t help but question him turning to look back at him and you were met with the familiar smirk on his lips.

“Because you are my wife and because it is my sole mission to be as much of a nuisance to your father as humanly possible.”

At the mention of your father, you didn’t know what possessed you but you found yourself laughing at the hilarity of what you would return to. The shock and the fury that was certain your father would be in after your husband, the man he loathes the most, had killed his brother, who just so happens to be Lord of Oldtown–a real power vacuum now with Ormund Hightower not having a viable heir to replace him with no living heirs to replace him.

“I’m glad you found amusement in all of this.”

You didn’t but after what had happened, it was the only coping you could do for every single thing that was going wrong in your life and your family.

[kitsunexgari]

Summary: Byung-hun comes in for a photoshoot where you are working as an assistant. The head photographer is running pretty late and asks you to keep him busy. You soon find out he can't keep his hands off of you. Tags: Public Sex, Fantasy, Mild Exhibitionism, Light Dominance, Some Dirty talk Disclaimer: This is not meant to depict real people, places, or events. Story contains adult themes and all participants in these activities are of legal adult ages. Story content is not suitable for minors. Read with caution.

You have not been an assistant for long but even so, the job is very tiring. Rewarding but tiring. Initially, you thought that maybe you would be more involved with the process of taking photos. Actually taking them. Instead, you work for a pretty nightmarish and controlling witch who has to have everything just right in order to shoot a set of photos. Still, she is one of the best in the business. Clients of all walks of life, including celebrities, are constantly coming through the studio. You know that you can make some important contacts here and learn more skills to build a great reputation of your own. You learn to work with it because you know it will work better for you in the long run. 

One day she is running late. She calls you to tell you that you are going to have to take care of her next client for an hour or so because there is heavy traffic on the way back from her location shoot which she didn't take you on. You don't get to go on many of those because she always wants someone in the studio just in case. It's not too bad as it gives you time to practice your own work and take care of other things that need to get done. You assure her that the client will be well handled and there is nothing to worry about. You have done this many times before, after all. Just as you are hanging up, he walks into the studio and looks right at you. 

You hadn't had time to check the books to see the name of the client coming in and you didn't expect it to be him of all people. Someone that you have spent more hours fantasizing about than you ever want to admit. Byung-Hun. You already feel a blush rise up on your cheeks as he approaches your desk. 

"Good afternoon, sir." You say softly, unable to look directly at him. 

"I'm here to see Anastasia." 

"Yes, she's running a bit late. There was an accident and some traffic but I can take care of you until then. If you don't mind waiting." You tell him quickly, "Can I get you a drink?" 

"Sure, I have some time," He says going to take a seat on the couch, "Just a bottle of water or whatever is easiest." You nod and walk across the room to grab one of the bottles chilling in the fridge then come back to him and hold it out slowly. He takes it from you with a very charming smile and you hurry back to your desk trying your hardest not to stare at him. You sit behind your computer and try to look busy but you are worried about him getting bored with waiting. Anastasia doesn't like angry clients. She says that gives them a bad aura when she's trying to shoot. 

"I am sorry about this, it's not typical for her." You try to assure him. 

"It's fine, really, not in a hurry today." He says and glances at the TV that is on the wall in the waiting area. 

"The remote is, over there." You tell him and motion to where it is sitting on the table by the couch where he is. "At least it will give you something to do, right?" 

"Thanks." He says and picks it up. Since you don't have any clue what to actually talk to him about and fear you may say something very stupid if you have to keep talking to him, you attempt to focus on other work you have to do. Forms you need to fill out and clients that you have to email. 

You can't focus. Not only is he right there on the couch in front of you, you can smell him. It's intoxicating. You find yourself staring in his direction periodically before forcing yourself to look away. That is until the moment he catches you doing it. You panic and quickly look back down at your keyboard but he gets up and walks over to the desk, placing his hands on it, tapping his fingers lightly over the top of the wood. 

"I know that look," he says. 

"What look? I was just checking to make sure you were comfortable, sir." You say, unable to look at him once more. 

"Come on," He says, "You think I don't get that look a thousand times a day? I know what it means...I just usually don't get it from girls as cute as you." You are surprised to hear that and look up at him in shock. He thinks you're cute? Why is his voice so low and sensual? You lick your lips as suddenly your mouth has gone dry even if other places have become much wetter. 

"Cute?" You manage to choke out. 

"Oh yeah," He says and leans in to stroke your cheek, running a thumb over your lips softly, "Why keep fantasizing about it when you have the real thing right here in front of you?" All you are able to do is let out a soft squeak because you can't believe this is really happening. Can it be? You have to be dreaming again. That or the stress of this job has caused you to go completely insane but, does that matter right now? You aren't sure that you care. 

"You're serious?" You ask him. 

"Very serious, been awhile for me too...get so busy and lonely. This life isn't all it's cracked up to be and didn't you say she's running late?" He asks. 

"Yes but," 

"Shhh," He presses a finger over your lips gently and you go silent. You have no desire to contradict him and you are supposed to take care of as well as entertain the clients right? It would be bad for business if they got bored and left. "Stand up, come on." You nod stupidly and get to your feet. He looks you over before stepping around the desk and pulling you towards him. With a hungry glint in his eyes he captures your mouth in a kiss. His lips are much more soft and perfect than you could have ever dreamed of. 

When he pulls back you just stand there, staring at him breathlessly. He quickly shoves a few things off of your desk, grabs you by the hips and bends you over it. His hands run over your back to your skirt which he shoves up over your ass, gives it a nice firm slap with his hand causing you to yelp. His hand moves over the back of your thighs and between your legs. You mewl softly, when you feel his fingers on the crotch of your already soaked panties as he starts to tease you with those perfect fingers. 

"You really do want this, don't you?" He leans down to purr in your ear. 

"More than anything..." You gasp. He chuckles softly and slides your panties down, pressing your head to the desk as he unzips his pants. You can hear it but can't quite see what he's doing. Not that it matters, you wouldn't even care if you were blind folded. He moves in closer, you can feel him teasing your opening with his cock, which only gets you to moan, then whine, before he thrusts in. Firmly yet some how still very gentle. You groan and close your eyes as he starts to to move. Each time he thrusts he gets in a bit deeper. One hand holds your hair tightly, the other grasps your hip, enough that you are sure his fingers will leave bruises on your skin but you welcome that more than anything. 

"Like this?" He purrs breathlessly as he moves. He's good at this, far more than you could have dreamed up yourself. Even your own fantasies aren't this good. You close your eyes and moan again. 

"Yes...harder....please?" You beg. He starts to speed up, seemingly hitting every right place inside of you. Pleasuring nerves you weren't even sure you had. You hear him moan and a shiver runs through you, he starts to work his hips faster. You rock back towards him as the intensity rises. The heat inside of you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the waiting room as he fucks you nice and hard. 

"Are you close? Huh? Going to cum all over my cock like a good girl?" He breathes. 

"Y-Yes...fuck...please let me cum!" You cry, wanting nothing more than that. He starts to pound into you at a feverish pace until you hit your climax and cry out. Your cunt clenching around his cock as you hear him groan loudly, one last time, as he cums too. His motions erratic, kind of jerky, he all but collapses on you, breathing down your neck as he licks and kisses at the skin there for a moment before pulling back. You feel him slip out of you and whine. You know you're going to miss that and it will be hard for anyone to top ever again. 

By the time you recover so you can grab your panties and make yourself decent again, he's already headed back to the couch. A grin on his face as he sits down and grabs his water bottle. You look at him bashfully as he takes a sip. Then you clear your throat, knowing that you are going to have to excuse yourself to get cleaned up. 

"I uh...should get cleaned up." You tell him sheepishly. 

"Alright," He says, "But don't stray too far, might have to go for round two if Anastasia keeps me waiting any longer." 

[dragqueenstarscream]

I have a fic request: Optimus helping Starscream with his polishing.

good as new

tfone starscream x optimus prime

contains: developing relationship, secret relationship, polishing, wing kink, allusions to interface

"i like what you've done with the place."

optimus merely hummed in reply as he examined the bottles of polish sitting on the shelves in the private washrack. it seemed that sentinel prime's reputation for excess extended to his personal life as well. optimus couldn't even begin to imagine caring for his finish with cheaper polish when he was still cogless. that luxury simply didn't exist to him.

truth be told, optimus didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. this had all started when starscream somehow managed to break into iacon tower with information about an attack megatron had planned. why starscream would want to betray megatron was beyond optimus, but regardless, the two had continued to meet in secret, with starscream always providing optimus with some crucial information. eventually, the two had formed something of a relationship, though whether that was platonic, romantic, or something else entirely was unclear to optimus as of now.

tonight wasn't a night to discuss megatron's next move or where the quintessons might be heading. optimus had invited starscream to iacon tower - under the cover of night, of course, as tongues would wag if it got out that optimus was bringing a decepticon into his own home - simply to be with him. he'd thrown out the idea of offering to polish starscream, knowing that the seeker valued his appearance. starscream had latched onto the idea instantly, which led to where they were now, in the primes' private washrack. optimus told himself that this was just him trying to extend a peace offering to megatron's second in command in exchange for more information, but he knew in his spark that it wasn't the case.

"getting rid of those obnoxious statues was a nice touch," starscream said, bringing optimus back to the present. "how long did it take you to melt those down to scrap?"

"most of them were destroyed when we fought to free you guys," optimus said. "taking the rest down was just part of the renovation."

he finally settled on a bottle of polish and made his way over to the bench where starscream sat. the former high guard bot raised an eyebrow, then relaxed when he saw the polish optimus had chosen.

"good choice," he said as optimus sat behind him. "you know how to use that stuff?"

"i think so," optimus said. "i haven't done this before, but it can't be too hard."

"what do you mean, you..." starscream's voice trailed off as the realization struck him. "primus, what did sentinel do to you bots?"

starscream stood up from the bench and started to search around the washrack. "come on," he muttered, "where did that pompous aft keep his... gotcha!"

he returned to the bench with a tool in his servo. optimus felt embarrassed that he didn't know what it was at first.

"know how to use this?" starscream asked. optimus shook his head, and starscream scoffed in disbelief.

"we didn't get much time to ourselves in the mines," optimus admitted. "the most cleaning we got was a trip to the washracks."

"unbelievable," starscream grumbled, rolling his eyes. "here, gimme that."

optimus handed the bottle of polish over to starscream, who opened it up and poured some drops on what looked like a circular pad.

"here, you pour some polish on right here, then you turn it on and work it into my plating," starscream said. "just take your time with it, and don't press too hard."

optimus felt unsure of himself as starscream handed him the polish and the tool. still, he knew that he had to get this right. he wanted to prove to starscream that he could be a kinder bot than the false prime before him. this peace offering would be a good start.

and maybe starscream would actually trust him with more than just information, but optimus didn't want to think about that now.

"this won't be too loud, will it?" optimus asked. "we can't have anyone hearing what's going on and getting too curious.

"that thing?" starscream snorted. "if that's as pricey as i think it is, you won't have to worry about noise. now, quit worrying and get to work."

"if you're sure," optimus sighed as he got himself seated. turning the polisher on, he felt relieved as it only made a low hum, not enough to grab the attention of anyone walking by.

now that he thought about it, he didn't know where to start. he didn't want to start polishing in an awkward spot and hurt starscream by accident. after a moment's thought, he settled on starscream's wings. they were broad, flat, and made a good surface to test the polisher on. taking a deep invent, optimus leaned forward and began to polish starscream's left wing.

the reaction he got wasn't what he expected at all. starscream's whole body shuddered, and he let out a long, shameless moan that had optimus blushing. he quickly pulled the polisher back, afraid that he'd accidentally violated a major boundary.

"hey, what the-?!" starscream sputtered and turned to face optimus.

"sorry," optimus said rather quickly. "i just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything."

"hey, no no no!" starscream scolded him. "i'll tell you if you're crossing a line, prime, but that felt good. go back to doing that!"

"alright, if you're sure," optimus said. starscream huffed and turned back around. optimus took that as his cue and returned to polishing starscream's left wing.

the smaller bot relaxed completely under optimus' touch. he leaned back towards optimus, engine purring. occasionally, he would tell optimus to lighten up on the pressure, but for the most part, he had no complaints. optimus knew by now that that was as close to a thank you as he would get out of starscream.

as optimus moved from the tip of starscream's wing inward, he noticed a shift in starscream's behavior. the closer he got to starscream's wing hinge, the louder starscream's engine revved. when optimus polished the base of starscream's wing, the smaller bot flexed his digits, clenching and unclenching his fist, and he let out an unusually soft sigh. it sounded bizarre coming out of someone with such a normally abrasive voice, but optimus found, to his embarrassment, that he wanted to hear it again.

"you know," starscream said, speaking up for the first time in a while, "it's a shame you were a miner before you became a prime. you would've made a killing doing this."

"i'll take that as a compliment," optimus said with an awkward smile.

once optimus was certain that he'd polished starscream's left wing until it sparkled, he moved to starscream's right wing, a bit more confident this time. starscream kept purring as optimus polished him, his optics closed, intake hanging open. optimus would've been lying to himself if he said that he didn't find starscream attractive like this, not angry and barking orders, but rather relaxed and at ease.

"i'll have to keep coming back to you for this," starscream said. optimus felt a flicker of hope in his spark. he quite enjoyed the prospect of seeing starscream more often.

again, optimus moved the polisher closer and closer to the base of starscream's wing. once he reached the hinge, starscream let his head roll back, eyes half lidded, looking almost delirious.

"better be careful with that, prime," he smirked. "don't go leading a mech on."

"what do you mean?" optimus asked, despite having a guess what starscream was talking about.

"you keep touching my wings like that," starscream purred, "and i might think you're coming onto me."

optimus didn't believe that he had the gumption to say what was on his mind, but he kept a straight face and simply said, "maybe i am."

this only made starscream's smirk grow into a dangerous grin. despite having never seen it before, optimus knew what that look meant.

once optimus had finished the right wing, he turned the polisher off and asked, "how do you feel?"

starscream flexed his wings, a self satisfied smile on his face. "not bad, prime," he said. "for your first time, not bad."

optimus tried to sound more sure of himself than he felt. "glad to hear it. now, where else do-"

"optimus," starscream said.

uh oh, optimus thought. full name.

"yes?" he asked. to his surprise, starscream reached one arm back, grabbed the back of optimus' helm, and pulled him in for a kiss. it was awkward at first, as optimus nearly knocked his forehelm into starscream's chin, but once he let himself lean into it, he realized just what was happening.

starscream was actually kissing him.

and optimus enjoyed it.

it only lasted for a few moments before starscream let go, but optimus wished that it had lasted longer.

"keep that up," starscream grinned, "and you might get a little more than that."

"just a little?" optimus said jokingly.

"i'm willing to negotiate," starscream chuckled as he turned around on the bench, now straddling it and facing optimus.

"now," the seeker purred, fluttering his wings enticingly. "other side."

optimus knew where the night was going, and for once, he was willing to let starscream take full control.

turning on the polisher once more, optimus leaned in and began working on starscream's left wing.

[brainscrems]

I’m so fucking sick of ADL apologia. They’re not “trying to play nice and avoid targeting by the regime” THEY ARE ACTIVELY ENCOURAGING TRUMP AND HAVE BEEN QUIETLY SUPPORTING HIM FOR FUCKING YEARS!!!! The ADL, when faced with a choice between two candidates, a nazi who will let israel get away with whatever war crimes it wants, and a woman who’s not a nazi, has a jewish husband, is a big supporter of the jewish community, and hinted that she maybe, might hold israel accountable for war crimes, decided neither was the best option. Oh, except they also gave an award to the son-in-law of the nazi during that election year. For the fellow jews who see this, ask yourselves, when was the last time you saw the ADL criticize the republican party platform at all? When’s the last time you saw them call out the growing threat of nazism on the far right? When’s the last time you saw them point out the terrifying similarities between action and word of the republican party’s rhetoric towards immigrants and that of the nazi party’s rhetoric to jews? When was the last time the ADL talked abt systemic antisemitism that doesn’t fit their bs narrative of “the left wants all jews dead, while the right says some bad things sometimes but they mean well”. And, also ask yourself, “When was the last time they used their name as the largest jewish advocacy organization to claim that a nazi who just gave a nazi salute, has spouted nazi rhetoric for years, and also gave that nazi salute while giving a speech that sounded like it came right from adolf hitler’s own fucking mouth?” Cause i don’t remember the answer to those first few question, but I sure do remember the answer to that last one.

This is not a defense of left-wing antisemitism. As a leftist jew I see that shit day in and day out and it’s driving me fucking insane. I know what we’ve faced this last year and a half. This is about the ADL being unreliable and actively harming jewish interests. Cause let’s now talk about what the ADL DOES actually say about the left. Cause, yea, leftist antisemitism is fucked. Yea, the ADL calls it out. Yea, the ADL gets it wrong sometimes, and that would be expected of any organization. The issue here, is they’re getting it wrong ALL the time about the right, because they don’t bother to call it out at all. I posit they just throw spaghetti at the wall when it comes to leftist antisemitism and then they see what sticks. Their internal guidance, from an outside perspective, is it’s fine when the right-wing ethnonationalists in control of the government do a nazi salute, but when leftists do it to be edgy cunts to weaponize jewish trauma for their political causes it’s bad. Let’s be clear, they’re both bad. But it’s the difference between violent edgelord trolls and someone who actually wants to be the next hitler. What’s worse? The ADL thinks the college kids are a bigger threat than the people in charge of the entire US government. This is a systemic issue with the ADL.

Now, why this matters. The ADL has been slowly moving this way for a while. It just REALLY stepped up since october 7th because it gave them fertile ground to push what they want. But this isn’t new. The ADL has been tarnishing its reputation w goyim by overeprorting antisemitism on the left, and thus alienating even the more moderate left, and underreporting on the right. If the only people outside out community who have any trust in the ADL are republicans fascists and centrists who enable them, the people who it never bothers to call out, how can they continue to effectively represent us at all? The left thinks everything they say is bullshit because it’s boy who cried wolf with them. They call out everything bc they want to discredit the left. The right thinks they’re great bc they would probably let them get away with a sieg heil. This leaves us with the largest jewish advocacy organization in the US being only trusted by either nazis, or people who refuse to wake up and smell the fascism.

So. If we, as a community, want our voices heard we MUST disavow the ADL. We have to discredit them. We have to say they don’t represent us. Because. Keep in mind. 80% of jews voted against trump. The ADL knew it would look like this because they know what the american jewish community looks like. Yet, still, withheld endorsing the candidate who was, again, running against an actual nazi when it might have swayed some of the right-leaning jews. They did, however, EFFECTIVELY endorse trump by giving his son-in-law an award during an election year. Yk. The one that helped him in his first term to enact his shitty racist policies. I can’t think of any reason for this except that they wanted trump to win but knew an open endorsement would lead to a complete loss of faith from the jewish community. So. I’m here begging you. Stop buying their fucking bullshit. Their interests are not yours. They have abandoned us so they could have a president willing to let israel do whatever it wants without consequence. They have chosen to provide plausible deniability for an open nazi, as anyone who does a nazi salute while giving a far-right nationalist speech is. Do not trust them. Do not quote them. Do not donate to them. There are other jewish organizations and we should start trying to get their names out there to goyim. They ARE sometimes right about leftist antisemitism, but their motivations for calling it out are political, as evidenced by the passes they give the right. If you want our voices to be listened to on this issue start quoting other jewish orgs instead. They are less well known, but we have so many in the US. We, as a community, need to disavow these pieces of shit willing to give cover to nazis. For the sake of our credibility and for the sake of waking up the nation to the nazis we have in power.

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

i don’t trust any of you with c!gem. putting her under lock and key until you can find it in yourselves to use critical thinking

[lgbtlunaverse]

While rereading mdzs I am once again shocked by how talked about the "you were the only mistake he ever made" line from Lan Xichen to Wei Wuxian is and how heated it gets some people because honestly... I don't think he actually even believes that.

Stay with me. Look at the actual line. (I Included 2 translations for comparison's sake)

Firstly, yes he is mad at Wei Wuxian in this scene. But his biggest moment of anger was actually before this. By this point he's realized that Wei Wuxian forgot what happened after nightless city (and therefore ISN'T stringing along his baby brother on purpose) so he has in fact calmed down a bit.

Secondly, notice that he starts by talking about how his uncle felt. This is not Lan Xichen making a value statement about what he thinks. When he says Lan Wangji was proper and righteous he is talking about him being a model lan, he's talking about their family and clan's perspective of Wangji. Indeed, in their eyes, Wei Wuxian is the only time Lan Wangji was ever not the textbook perfect Lan.

Thirdly, what is Lan Xichen trying to say here? What is he mad at Wei Wuxian for? It's that he doesn't know Lan Wangji is in love with him. His anger is eased by realizing Wei Wuxian doesn't remember the very blatant confessions lwj made in the cave after nightless city, or Lan Wangji fighting his own clan elders for Wei Wuxian, and so had no way of knowing the whipmarks on Lan Wangji's back were related to him. But he is still mad, he still thinks Wei Wuxian should have been able to figure it out. So what does he highlight?

The fact that the only thing Lan Wangji, perfect model-Lan righteous Lan Wangji, ever defies his clan for is Wei Wuxian.

And Wei Wuxian has seen him do this! Even if he doesn't remember this one instance. Because Lan Wangji has been doing that the whole story through. Wei Wuxian has watched Lan Wangji blatantly stand against the entire cultivation world for him, and here Lan Xichen is highlighting just how unusual that is, how much Wei Wuxian must mean to Lan Wangji that he's willing to do that. The important part of the sentence here is not "mistake" it's "only."

Lan Xichen here isn't trying to say that he disapproves of Wei Wuxian, or telling him to stay away from his brother. Remember, the thing that made him mad in the first place was Wei Wuxian saying that he and Lan Wangji slept in seperate rooms. He thought they were together! He's mad because they're not!

At no point does Lan Xichen say he individually considers Lan Wangji's feelings for Wei Wuxian a mistake. If he ever did, it's clear he accepted them regardless long ago. Mistake or not, what he wants is for his little brother to be happy.