#they just need to get it out of their systems

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

eyes on the prize

a/n: me writing a fic where rafe is actually wholesome and nice? i didn't see it coming either... this idea just came to me when you were all voting for the kinktober fic a while ago, and i was prepping that it maybe could go in this direction and then ended up falling too much in love with the fantasy, so i simply had to get it out of my system.

summary: “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

warnings: mma!rafe cameron x reader, smut, college au, study buddies to lovers, soft!rafe, autumnal vibes, takes place in the beginning of november, studying, friday the 13th references, scaredy cat!reader, violence, mma fights, kissing, semi-public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, manhandling, ripping pantyhose, size kink, spit kink, hole inspection, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 2626

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“So,” you hesitantly broke the silence that had fallen over both you and the partner that had been assigned to you on this current project, “did you get up to anything fun on Halloween?” 

Glancing up from the thick book Rafe’s bored gaze was rushing through, it instead lingered on you for but a moment as his mutter reverberated in the quiet corner of the university’s library, “uhm, yeah. I popped by a party for a bit.” 

“The one at delta neu?” a glint flickered in your eye as soon as he offered you a nod, “me too! Though I went home kinda early, so we might have missed each other… what did you going as?” 

“Jason,” he simply uttered. 

“Jason who?” the soft smile didn’t fade from your lips as his short answer hadn’t landed the way he’d hoped. 

“You know,” his brows furrowed slightly at your cluelessness, repeating once again as if the name alone should be enough for you to understand, “Jason.” 

“…Jason Statham? Jason Momoa?” your eyes squinted as you quietly attempted to hit the bullseye, “uhm… I can’t really think of any other famous Jasons right now…” 

“No, Jason from Friday the 13th. You know, the dude with the hockey mask and the machete.” 

“Ah, him… yeah, I haven’t watched those movies,” you shrugged, “but, cool costume.” 

“Wait, you’ve never seen Friday the 13th?” he tilted closer to where you sat across the table from him, “not even the cheesy remake?” 

“Nope,” you simply returned your gaze to the textbook beneath your fingers.  

“Seriously?” his eyebrows didn’t float back down yet, “well, I don’t know if I should be offended that you’ve never watched that masterpiece before or jealous that you get to experience it for the first time, but either way, that’s a problem we need to fix.” 

At first, you thought you’d entered the wrong building. 

That was until you rounded the corner, and your gaze fluttered up from the map still open on your phone, guiding you to the mysterious address your study partner had texted you, asking you to meet up with him there before the rest of your plans could unfold, that you discovered that you hadn’t stumbled into the wrong place. 

Though that wasn’t the only thing you discovered in that moment as the culmination of that enlightenment was spotting Rafe in the middle of the industrial and cold gym, going through the tail end of some drills with his trainer. 

As he went through the combinations and grunted like a guard dog, sweat dripped down from his brow and rolled so low that it cascaded over his already glistening and bare chest. 

You hadn’t really noticed how your feet had stopped or how your pulse had picked up so fiercely that you could feel it between your thighs before his own eyes located you and he flashed you a smile.

“Hey!” his voice cut through your trance as he patted his coach on the shoulder and began to near the edge of the ring. 

“H-hi,” you blinked, shaking your fuzzy head slightly to clear it, “I didn’t know you were into this sort of stuff,” you briefly waved a hand to the gym around you and tried your best to rip your stare away from his heaving chest. 

“Yeah,” he began to loosen a glove, “sorry I asked you to meet me here, I’m just really busy these days cause I’ve got a fight coming up.” 

“Oh, well we don’t have to have a silly movie night if you don’t have the time,” you averted your gaze, recalling how before you’d been paired with him on the assignment for Callahan’s class, you hadn’t even been sure of what his name was. You’d just known him as the hot guy, three rows behind you. 

“No, no, I want to, unless of course you’ve changed your mind.”

Blinking back up into his eyes, you smiled, “definitely not.”

“Well, great,” a grin spread across his lips, “then just give me a second,” he cast a brief glance over his broad shoulder at the locker room, “and then we can head back to my place,” a notion you hadn’t expected would have ended with you up on the back of his motorcycle, a terrifying concept that you’d somehow been unable to deny as the crush that had blossomed and bloomed within your heart for him had made it near impossible for you to say no to a single one of his suggestions. 

“You never told me what you went as,” Rafe hummed beside you, causing your eyes to tear away from the horror movie buzzing on the TV.

Blinking over at him next to you on the leather couch, your fingers began to fiddle with the blanket you’d slumped over yourself, “oh, well I didn’t wanna buy anything new, so I just went through my closet and ended up going as Britney Spears because I found the skirt of my old school uniform. I don’t even remember why I brought it with me the last time I went home, but–, ah!” a shriek suddenly shuttered through your form as your eyes accidentally fluttered back towards the screen just in time to witness the villain sink a large blade into the head of one of the drunk teenagers, “oh my god!” your frame couldn’t help but jump at the fright, nearly tossing the blanket across the room as you instinctively hid your features in the mass of Rafe’s bicep. 

As your heart raced and thumped in your chest, you felt Rafe’s shoulder begin to move before you heard his laughter. 

“Shut up, it’s not funny!” you smacked him lightly in the chest, though kept your vision darkened by his shirt, “so I’m not desensitised to the horrors of scary movies, big whoop!” a mutter then slipped out of your lungs, “fuck, why did I agree to this? I’m probably gonna have nightmares for weeks…”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a movie,” you felt his palm find your arm in a soothing rub as his voice hummed directly above the crown of your head, “and the scene is almost over.” 

“I can’t look…” you felt yourself lean more into his touch. 

“…do you want me to describe it to you?” 

“No…” you lingered in the security of his warmth and felt the terror slowly melt from your bones. Cupping a hand on the side of your face to shield your eyes from the horrors on screen, you carefully plucked your face just shy out of his safety before you uttered, “…just tell me when it’s over…” 

The blaring light from the television reflected against the side of Rafe’s face as he gazed down into your eyes and breathed, “okay,” his stare slowly dipping and fluttering down towards your lips. 

It wasn’t till now that you noticed how close you’d accidentally scooted to him as you weren’t far from just sitting in his lap. 

Sharing his breath, your mind went entirely blank and only switched back on when you’d closed the distance betwixt your lips and now found yourself kissing your study buddy. 

Thankfully, your brain didn’t get a chance to begin spiralling as it only took Rafe half a second to reciprocate the sudden move and kiss you back. 

His strong hands found the small of your waist buried beneath the woollen blanket before he began to drag you closer, pulling you so near that you actually did wind up sitting in his lap, your fingers fluttering against his buzzcut as his own scooped down over the curve of your ass. 

When the movie gently humming from behind you was long forgotten and your soul instead had drifted straight to heaven, you felt Rafe tilt his head back to breathlessly utter, “come watch my fight…” his forehead still pressed against your own. 

Scarcely picking up on the words behind his honied hum, you breathed, “what?” 

Reeling back just enough for his eye to catch your own dazed pair, he said, “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

You’d never seen a fight in real life before. 

Not boxing, not mixed martial arts as this was, not even a juvenile one in a schoolyard. 

At one point, when you thought all hope seemed lost, when Rafe got pinned by his opponent and blood was trickling down from the cut at his brow so clearly that you could make it out from the second row seat you found yourself planted in, he somehow managed to turn the tides and capture the boulder of a man in a lock so fierce it made them nearly melt into one pretzel-like being. 

As he flexed his arm around the other’s throat with the rest of his limbs restricting him as well and rendering an escape near impossible, Rafe’s eyes then flickered up to catch your wide ones in the crowd. A grin appeared on his features as he held your stare a moment longer, watching as you shyly began to mirror his smile, before he tightened his hold and squeezed till the opponent opted not to bruise his pride and tap out, instead going limp in the grasp. 

Once the trophy was in his gloved hand and he’d leapt out of the ring, on his way back towards the locker room, he zigzagged through the cheering crowd and caught onto your arm, dragging you with him as he exited the buzzing hall. 

“That was insane,” you heard yourself babble as he pulled you through the corridors down towards the backroom he’d been in prior to the fight, “I mean, I know I went into it kinda blind, but I had no idea it would be like that,” adrenaline still rushed through your veins as he tugged you over the threshold and closed the door behind you, swiftly dropping his trophy to one of the long benches, “sure, it was as insane as I probably imagined, but the way that you moved, the way you slipped in and out like you were made of water or something, I mean, that was beautiful–,” the fighter then suddenly cut your rambling short as he yanked you to his sweaty form and pressed his lips to your own. However, as his feet shuffled and your spine collided with the back of the door to the small locker room, your fingers fluttered over countless of the spots where he’d been hit, causing you to jerk back and ask, “wait, shouldn’t you have someone check you out?” your eyes flickered from the cut splitting his brow to the various fresh bruises already beginning to blossom and reveal their true colours, “are you okay?”

“I’ve never felt better in my whole life,” he tried to lean back in to capture your lips once more, though you tilted away just in time for him to miss. 

“You sure? Because–”

But your words were quickly snuffed out as his hands then flew up to grasp the sides of your face to force you to notice the glint in his eye and the desire dripping in his tone, “just shut up and kiss me,” he commanded before he practically devoured you whole. 

As Rafe’s tongue danced against your own and made you feel dizzy in his tight embrace, his fingers then blindly fumbled for the lock and twisted it with a click that harmonised with the throbbing that had appeared between your thighs as soon as the fight had commenced. 

A low growl rumbled deep within his chest and melted into your mouth as he then plucked you off of the ground and lifted you into his arms. Broad palms spreading wide below your bottom, he brought you as close as possible, causing the skirt you wore to ride up and crumble at your hips. The thin barrier of your pantyhose and the underwear beneath nearly incinerated from the heat that sparked as his hips greedily rocked against your covered core, lending you to feel just how hard he was in his shorts. 

“I want you so bad,” he groaned between pecks, his fingers digging into your softness.

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your victory or something?” a light giggle bubbled out of you. 

“I thought that was what I was doing,” he smirked before dropping you back down onto the ground, making you gasp at his sharp movements as he suddenly spun you around to face the closed door, “unless you have a better idea of how we could celebrate,” he nipped at your neck, making your eyes flutter. 

“I–…” your teeth briefly captured your bottom lip as his front pressed against your back, and your spine instinctively arched back into him, “no, yeah, this one’s g-good…”

“Good,” he murmured in your ear before his fingers found your pantyhose in a pinch and ripped a big hole in them, nearly splitting them in two as he exposed your underwear, “do you want it?” he gripped your hips and titled them for his hard-on to perfectly nudge against the soaked cotton. 

“Y-yes,” you panted, even just that one word haven been a struggle to utter through the fog he’d cast you into. 

“How bad?” 

“So bad–, Rafe, please,” he made you squeak desperately, “I just–, please…”

Cheek smooshed against the door, you glanced over your shoulder and watched as he then kneeled down behind you. Both hands still firmly planted on your hips, keeping you in place for him, they only strayed for a moment in order to shove your skirt the rest of the way up and letting him see the wet spot decorating your panties. 

“Oh, shit…” he groaned as he tugged the gusset of your underwear all the way to the side, a string of your glossy want clung to the fabric till it snapped back against your aching core. Nearly salivating as he inspected your holes, his fingers dented your ass as he pulled you apart, splitting you open that much further and watching intently at the way your drooling cunt throbbed in anticipation for his touch. 

As if your pussy’s embarrassingly leaky state wasn’t enough, a dollop of his spit then roughly landed upon your folds, the lewdness causing you to let out a moan as he swiftly rose back up to his full height without as much as a tickle to your tingly petals.

The next thing you knew, the adrenaline coursing through you both drove Rafe to free his length from its confines and, without as much as another kiss, slammed inside of your weeping pussy in one fell motion. 

Balls nuzzled tightly against you, the very tip of him nudged against a part so deep inside of you that it made you lose your breath as he took a moment to savour the sensation, freezing up within you and huffing against your cheek as you gasped for air through your whimpers. 

“Oh my god!” one of your hands curled back to crawl at his waist, “Rafe!” 

“Now,” his hips slowly drew back, dragging his fat girth back out of you and letting you feel every little detail of him, “you just gotta be a good girl, stand right here for me,” only the bulbous head of his cock remained, keeping you plugged up as he purred in your ear, “and take it like the perfect little prize you are,” he then buried himself once more with such vigour that his heavy sack tapped sloppily against your puffy clit, “can you do that for me? Will you be my reward?” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

When Wifey talks about her union organizing work, she talks about prospective contacts on a 1-5 scoring system. On the one end you have Conservative David who is considered a long term cultivation possibility, but someone who must be approached strategically and adaptively. And on the other end you have Leftist Jane who is not only already jazzed about the union, but seems like possible future leadership material because she has a great rapport with her department and solid social skills. How someone falls on the spectrum tells you how to approach, how much time/resources to invest in someone, and what expectations might be reasonable to have of your contact.

I think that it can be hard to let go of the instinct that we don't want to coddle people when they say stuff we know to be anti-labor. Especially when it's rare for more broad spectrum social skill building to focus on conflict resolution (as opposed to conflict avoidance). But conflict resolution isn't just for fights! It's for any time that you and another person are on different sides of an issue and need to reconcile yourselves somehow. Community organizing involves a lot of that, as well as rapport building, learning to hold the people around you in unconditional regard in ways they receive without sliding into their ideological camp, and how to de-escalate a situation where someone is becoming agitated.

And if you feel anxious about those things, don't be! It feels scary and threatening because you weren't taught how to do it. But if you join a program like a union where they WILL, once you start to get the hang of it, that sense of mastery translates into less anxiety doing the thing! It's always easier to do something you have a lot of tips and tricks to manage weirdness for right? Same thing here.

So honesly? If you're someone who wants to get into organizing and doesn't know how, maybe just start by reaching out to local unions, social coaches, peer group facilitators, etc and see if any of them would teach a class if you got a group together! Learn as a community how to talk to each other and share space in ways that make it feel easier, not harder, to do the work that needs doing.

Activism is not cold-calling.

Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.

I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.

As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.

Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.

IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.

Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.

This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.

Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.

[heesimp]

jake hard thought #1

warnings: grinding, jake has a gf that isn’t you, implied unprotected sex

He knows he shouldn’t be looking at you like this with your naked body laying on the mattress with your tits squished beneath you and your legs spread out wide for him. Jake sees the glisten over your smooth, bare pussy and moans to himself as he twists his wrist to jerk himself off at the mere sight of you beneath him. He almost feels bad for looking at you so indecently when his lover is away for the weekend,

Jake’s girlfriend is the last thing he’s thinking about as his precum coats his cock. He spills out even more when he watches your hole clench right in front of him, almost like it’s winking to entice Jake into doing it with you.

“Wish I could fuck you for real,” Jake says as he rests the tip of his cock against your slit. He holds his cock by the middle and toys with your slit, moving his head back and forth to capture your arousal on him. The sound of your wetness splashing echoes in the room and it makes the both of you moan.

“I wish you could too,” you whisper, looking back at him. Jake looks right into you as he moves his cock back and forth repeatedly.

“S’Okay, baby.” The pet name feels warm. “Think you can cum from grinding on my dick?”

“I-I want to try.” You stutter and Jake chuckles from above you, maneuvering your body so that you sit on top of him with you all over him. He feels the way you breathe as his mouth chases yours in a wet kiss that has you seeing stars.

He slots his cock in between your thighs and feels you squish against him while your pussy guides up and down the place where he needs you the most. Jake’s wet dick is so warm when you clench around him and it takes a great amount of restraint not to fuck right up into you.

It’s really not his girlfriend’s fault for this predicament he finds himself in. She’s sweet, she’s nice, but…there’s something about you that makes Jake’s cock incredibly hard every time he sees you. One weekend with you is all he needs to get this out of his system.

You moan against his mouth when he nudges your swollen clit and Jake bucks his hips against you harder. “I know this is wrong but I can’t help it.” His dick spurts out note of his precum. “You’re so fucking sexy, Y/N. Pussy’s so hot, too. It’s a shame I can’t fuck you there.”

His words make you clench and Jake’s hands come to your ass to push and pull you against him with us fingers digging into the meaty flesh of your ass. The glide is heavenly as he slots is cock between your folds, your mixed arousal making him slip around you with ease.

“Jake, fuck!” you moan against his chest while you claw at him. “This feels so good. How can grinding feel so good?”

“I don’t know, baby.” He hisses the more you clench and slide around him. “Your perfect pussy is so warm around me.”

His skin slaps yours just as you grip onto his shoulders and look down at him. Your eyes look glossed over as you clench your thighs around and pull him closer to bring yourself over your tipping point, molding your lips on top of his. Jake moans into you when he feels your warm cum on his cock and follows soon after, pushing his dick against your thighs until his tip peeks out from the other side and spills his cum onto the backs of your thighs.

“So good,” he whispers when your thighs continue to squish him between your body. Jake’s cock remains hard the more he feels your tits on his chest and with the way you push your tongue against his. He kisses you with fervor and loves the way your mouth feels against his.

It has him using his hands to spread your legs wide enough so that his tip breaches your hole. You don��t protest and clutch onto his shoulder at the sudden intrusion with a deep moan escaping from the back of your throat. Girlfriend be damned.

Jake was never good at following the rules anyway.

[shyfoxsky]

I really think that the therian community needs more essays on former trends and general forms of conduct, because I've said it before and will continue to say it, but the way the community was structured in the mid to late 2010s when I was first awakened was fun and exciting and helped me really find the good in my identity, but also was extremely toxic, judgy, and detrimental to my overall journey.

In my first few years in the community, I was embraced into a corner of the internet that was all about animals and the ethical treatment of them and appreciating and worshipping nature as we all considered ourselves more a part of it than "others". I was also dragged by my tail into a corner of the internet that forced me to give up every single personal, little detail about my personal identity and how I felt about it and the step-by-step of how I got there just to be allowed to speak.

That community both sang the praises of wolf therians, put them on a pedestal, to the point that it felt like they were above all other 'types, while also simultaneously tearing down anyone who questioned wolves, especially certain coat colors, to the point that you had to defend a master's thesis in front of a panel of graymuzzles for anyone to allow you the label "wolf therian". From day one, you were conditioned to believe there was no fun and intimate community, no pack meets, no content for you, unless you were a gray wolf, but you had to be educated on par with the top experts in the world on both identity and the species to not be considered "another kid that likes wolves". If you were anything else, you were an outcast in a world of outcasts. You were just "trying to be unique". You never got edits, outfits, etc. without asking creator accounts for them yourself. The community's terminology was structured around wolves. Howls, packs, etc. You either had to accept that you were going to be outnumbered in any close-knit small group you joined, if you were even allowed and it wasn't "wolves only", or, you could make a group designed around 'types similar to yours, which would never be found by others like you, and would quickly only become a failed idea.

That community is what led to my complicated and painful feelings towards wolves. For the rest of my life, no matter what happens, I will always have doubt in my identity because of it all. I will either be a wolf who believes I'm one because of the community's influence, or I won't and will believe I'm not because I want to escape the stereotypes that come with being a wolf.

That community also was riddled with rigid, unspoken rules about what was and wasn't an acceptable therian identity. I never heard of systems during that time, never saw anyone identify solely psychologically, and no one identified only because they felt like that creature. Back then, you were a standard therian with a single 'type, maybe a second if you'd been researching and journaling every single day without fail for more than a year with statistics to back it up. You had a reason for your identity, but it couldn't just be that you imprinted on your pets as a child (that's not enough), or that it developed from trauma or autism (therianthropy isn't a mental illness), or that you simply feel that way (you're just a wolfaboo). You had to be a misplaced soul, someone with past lives, on rare occasions, you could be a permanent walk-in spirit (but definitely not in a plural way). Don't even get me started on the idea of polymorphs, conceptkin, etc.

I personally feel like a standard therian, but to this day, I still question the origin of my identity. So much of my identity as a red wolf hinged on it being endangered and from my area, because then I could be a misplaced soul due to there not being enough bodies for red wolves to be born into. When I first awakened, I thought my identity came from a past life, even though I personally don't believe I can ever find out what those were, if I even have any. Later on, when I realized being raised with dogs and always seeing and being compared to canines likely had something to do with it, and I considered it to have come from imprinting, I still felt as if I was required to find some spiritual side to it as well. I still struggle with this, to the point that I barely know what I believe in afterlife-wise anymore, and I certainly don't understand what led to my identity, if something even led to it at all.

Those kinds of things needs to be discussed more, because to an extent, I feel like it's still present, both in the same and different ways. The newly-awakened alterhumans of today, yesterday, and tomorrow, all deserve to have a truly accepting space to figure themselves out without pressure to conform to an unspoken standard of how one should identify. Tumblr is better about it than most sites, but ones like TikTok might set things back, if they haven't already, despite the attempts of well-meaning individuals who are trying to break through the algorithm and educate others. I just think more discussions need to be had and more perspectives and experiences need to be shared for the sake of awareness and making sure damaging practices don't continue forever.

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

(TFP) Yandere!Autobots - Types of yandere

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, yandere harem, describing types of yandere, typical violence from the series and a little bit more, Reader is gender neutral and in the Autobot faction. Use of (Y/N) (minimun).

Optimus Prime is an overprotective yandere.

Clear from the start - even before the war, the Prime hated the idea of you being hurt or in any kind of pain, either if it was physical or emotional. He can't help but always think of your safety, even if it meant to keep you locked inside of the base.

His presence is overbearing, always there behind your back and acting as your shadow. You don't bring yourself to ask kindly to have some privacy or be allowed to do more than just rather small tasks at the base - he looks so happy being by your side and always looks like his spark is breaking in half if you express the minimun discomfort.

Ratchet is an obsessive yandere.

Servo on servo with Optimus, he is quite overprotective too. But what makes him different from Optimus is that Ratchet gets hysteric and euphoric in the blink of an optic if it is about you. You would get scared to see the many things he keeps and knows about you.

Knows everything about you, both in the medical field and personally for he is the bot you get to pass more time as the others are out on their missions. Has his optics on you nearly all the time, analizing and keeping every little detail, data and informatiom about you. When he is all alone or with any of his teammates, he gushes quietly about you, spilling every little detail he learned recently or holds dearly to his systems.

Bumblebee is a self-aware yandere.

From the bunch, Bee is the one to know what he and the others are doing is wrong. More than wrong. They were holding you hostage, lying to you, their love for you reaching sickening levels, and he is sick of himself... but can't bring himself to stop. His self-awareness then translates to a validation-seeking behaviour.

He needs your smile, your words of approval, your soft praise, your gentle touch - everything so he doesn't crumble down. He feels lost without you, that's why he is always following you and doing anything so you can look at him with those precious optics of yours that make Bee forget for a moment that what he is doing is wrong.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack are clingy yanderes.

Something that makes them different from one another is how their clinginess is masked - while Wheeljack flirts and tries to woo you, Bulkhead gives you small gifts and wishes to pass time with you. Wheeljack loudly demands your attention with flirting, compliments and keeping a servo on you, while Bulkhead does it quietly, his gifts always accompanied with a 'would you like to pass time together?' or 'wanna train together?'

You are their universe - they must be around you to feel alive and in calm. Spare them a glance, a word, anything and they'll melt and wish for more.

Arcee is a violent yandere.

Like Bee, Arcee is self-aware, but it is her love for you that moves her wrath, and viceversa - her anger moves her devotion for you. Arcee had lost many loved ones, like Tailgate and Cliffjumper, stucked in a cycle of grief, spiraling in the anger stage. But the anger is never directed at you (never, ever), but at the Decepticons and anyone who stands in her and her team's way to protect you.

You bring peace to her hurt soul, making her fall deeper in love for you - but once you turn your optics away, her anger is back, ready to destroy everything if it means to show you how much she loves you. And you've witnessed how her hysteria taking over, to then melt the moment she gets to see you, bringing her tranquility.

Smokescreen and Cliffjumper are worshipping yanderes.

Oh, Primus - if Cliffjumper was still alive, he and Smokescreen would be a helmache whenever both opened their mouths, as they would talk non-stop about how amazing, precious and unique you are. While Smokescreen is a 100% worshipper "(Y/N) is a flawless deity!", Cliffjumper is a worshipper that acts normal in front of you, but once you leave, he talks and talks about you, praising anything you do.

Both definitely lean on the stalkering side, too - and in their optics, you are free of any sin, of any flaw. You are perfect. And if you give them a small compliment? They feel this rush of euphoria.

Ultra Magnus is a passive lovestruck yandere.

In front of others, Ultra Magnus does his job as an autobot, following Optimus' orders and guiding his teammates. But when he is all alone with you, he changes - he seems to be in a passive, dream-like state, as all he does is sigh, kneel in front of you and whisper his prayers, holding your servo and begging softly for your benevolence and blessing.

Like others, he is also a worshipper, but a very soft, calm one - for his worshipping must be only for you to hear. He prays everyday to be worthy of you, to be your knight in shinning armour. Ultra Magnus will always view you as an angel, an ethereal being and sigh his spark out of love for you.

Hope y'all liked it! (*^▽^*) Vhaos out!

[ghostoffuturespast]

I blame big agri, big pharma (You think pharmaceutical companies are only in the business of drugs? A lot of them have patents on and sell pesticides too), and land developers. You know, the corporate entities that are actively destroying habitat and eradicating plants and wildlife.

But you know what? There's something you can actually do about this.

Step 1: KILL YOUR LAWN

Link to t-shirt art here.

And I mean this literally, metaphorically, and spiritually.

Unless it's an actual communal space, urban turf lawns are elitist colonial holdovers from the days of European estates - from wealthy land owners who could afford to have servants hand cut their lawns and didn't need the land to subsite off of. Rather the elites just subsisted off the backs of other people's labor. Like they still do today. Turf lawns are status symbols, they provide very limited habitat for wildlife, very limited eco service system functions, and are fucking boring.

So kill your lawn and eat the rich. You don't need a lawn to throw a potluck bbq.

Step 2: Plant Native Plants

(Photo credit)

Plant them in your yard, next to your vegetable garden, in containers outside you apartment, plant them in your asshole neighbor's yard, in hellstrips, in road medians, on the sides of the roads community gardens, at your kid's school, guerilla garden in some businesses landscaping, talk to your HOA about changing their dumb rules, join a local volunteer restoration effort, advocate for installing pollinator gardens at your local park. Wherever you think you can get native plants to grow.

Sure there are some immediate benefits to planting native plants, but one plant or one garden is not gonna fix climate change or habitat loss on its own. But that's not the point. The point is to learn and to heal. The point is to show people how to re-democratize our landscapes, because we as a species have forgotten what that looks like. It is about reminding people what the beauty of nature is, the sustenance it provides us, and the interconnectedness of all living things.

So go out there and get your hands dirty.

Also, as someone who works in land stewardship and natural resources, and who has completely gone down the Prairie Dog burrow on native plants, hit me up with questions. Chances are I don't live in the same ecosystem as you do and won't be able to answer in fine detail, but I'm happy to help people get started and point them to local resources.

it's kind of crazy climate change has occurred at such a remarkable pace that I and everyone else around my age can remember a completely different climate in our childhoods. I truly watched winter gradually disappear in my life.

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

Catalyst

so in my au which i'm totally not using to cope or anything haha, after realizing that curly isn't going to do anything about jimmy, anya confides in swansea and he goes Protective Dad Mode. i'm calling this the "Responsibility AU." ramble below cut.

swansea doesn't immediately go after jimmy with an axe or anything because 1. they're not in a high stress life/death crash situation and 2. anya specifically requests that swansea not enact violence upon jimmy after swansea says, and i quote, "i'm gonna beat his ass." anya just wants to feel safer and more supported on the ship—she doesn't want swansea to get in trouble even if jimmy does deserve to get destroyed by 10000 punches.

what swansea can do is watch out for anya and make sure she's never alone in a room with jimmy. if there's a situation where she has to be alone with jimmy (like the psych evals), she and swansea have a system where she can signal for help. with anya's permission, swansea asks daisuke to help look out for her too (without telling him the details as to why since that's anya's right to share or not). daisuke has already picked up at this point that something is wrong based on how much more hostile swansea's become towards jimmy, and he trusts his boss, so he agrees without much question.

anya, feeling less alone now that she has people watching her back, gains more confidence to stand up to jimmy. which makes him angry because his unwanted advances are being denied and swansea and daisuke keep getting in his way. he just can't understand why he's being treated as the bad guy here (this is because he is a delusional asshole).

meanwhile curly is slowly realizing that he needs to actually do something here because the tension in the crew is palpable and increasing by the day. also swansea is being mighty passive aggressive to him and talking about "responsibility" a lot. curly keeps trying to talk to jimmy about it but the guy just keeps downplaying it and blaming everyone else but himself. and curly is realizing that his friend isn't who he thought he was.

it all comes to a head one day when an angry jimmy tries to confront anya alone and swansea steps in. things get heated, people start yelling. curly show up to see swansea and jimmy on the verge of fighting with anya and daisuke trying to hold them back respectively. curly breaks up the fight. jimmy storms off. curly follows him and finds him trying to get the gun from the case in the cockpit. curly asks him why he's doing this and jimmy claims it's for his own protection because he feels "threatened by swansea." he tells curly to give him the code. curly, the sheer wrongness of the whole situation hitting him, finally calls jimmy out on all his bs. jimmy just laughs in his face, still believing that he's not in the wrong and curly doesn't have the guts to do anything anyway. so the captain fires him on the spot. jimmy snaps and he and curly get into a fight in the cockpit. jimmy is trying to crash the ship and curly is trying to stop him. then the rest of the crew show up and anya knocks jimmy's ass out with the gun case. swansea is so proud.

they throw jimmy in the cryopod so they don't have to worry about him pulling anything else and he can be properly dealt with once the stupid delivery is over. everyone's like, "wow that was a close one—could you imagine how messed up it would be if we ended up in a crash because of jimmy? thank god that didn't happen." curly makes swansea the copilot until they can get a replacement and swansea's like, "goddammit as if i don't already do enough shit around here."

anyway my whole goal here was to get rid of jimmy early so i can have beautiful Found Family shenanigans in space with the rest of the crew. apologies and healing and happy times will happen. no the whole getting laid off thing doesn't happen. no i don't have an explanation for it. sorry for the essay.

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: if you have stuck around and waited u are INCREDIBLE thank u so much for ur patience <3 esp cos i'm still testing it with my slowburn lmao + tell me what u think lovelies and as always, enjoy

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

CHAPTER TEN :: SHADOWS

Azriel is a spy by his very nature.

It makes sense; the gift of Shadowsinger is never bestowed so lightly so that it could ever leave any doubt of the user. Shadowsingers are spies, even well before their gifts revealed themselves. Always watching. Always listening.

It was, then, a tad against his disposition to keep his nose out business that wasn't his — as that was precisely what Azriel did best.

But his decision was resolute. Azriel had promised himself he would not be the first to break the distance between you two.

However, for a fae over five-hundred years old, it's quite unsettling to yet again feel the pangs of impatience. Years of practicing restraint and then, in a mere few months, his hard earned patent for patience begins to fray at the ends. You'll be his undoing, he's sure of it.

Like a young and fresh-faced warrior itching for battle, it's almost embarrassing how Azriel can't seem to stay away from you. His feet wander and all paths lead to you.

His shadows are not helping.

Azriel thinks they've managed to get more insistent, which he hadn't really believe was possible. They've proven him oh-so wrong. When he walks the halls of the House of Wind, the dark wisps dart out, as though trying to tug him along.

He had trusted them all of two times before, face flushed and with an ungraceful but thankfully unnoticed exit, he learned just where they were leading him.

They were following the invisible thread between you, taking him to see his mate.

When it became clear he wasn't going to be coerced along, his shadows had only got more devious.

It's a particular brand of torture, Azriel thinks, to be delivered little parcels of knowledge of the person he's not allowing himself to see.

And they're ruthless about it. Whispers about how you're healing and the growing steadiness of your feet, the way you stand a little taller each day, about the tentative trust extended to Cassian.

Gods, that one had made his hand jerk across the paper in surprise, spilling a patch of ink onto the report he was in the middle of.

You were talking to Cassian— no, you were nearly friends with Cassian. The magnanimous hope had ballooned within him before Azriel remembered to stomp it back down.

Mor had teased him for the black stains on his hands during dinner.

He studies them now, nearly washed away completely, before he lifts his head. In the cool air of dusk, Azriel surveils the training ring from the shadows of the door, eyes scanning across the balcony.

It's empty, as expected. The rising moon is his only company.

You've stuck to training in the mornings, of course.

He's relieved and disappointed all at once—then Azriel forces that disappointment out of his system with a frustrated huff.

He is not allowed to be disappointed. Your trust is something he still needs to claw his way back to, to earn, and that required waiting and accepting that.

Azriel would see you... when you wanted to see him.

Despite his resolve, the thread between you still gives a futile tug before he can stop it. Scowling at himself, he rubs at his chest meanly, banishing the feeling. He steps down onto the balcony and heads towards the equipment.

As his scarred hands reach out and pluck one of the training staffs off the rack, his shadows twirls and trill, an almost teasing motion. It takes one pointed whisper, one tug on his heartstrings —they used that one just earlier today— before his hands are glowing warm from the second-hand touch.

His fingers spring apart and the staff hits the tiles with a loud clatter. Even though it's just him out on the balcony, he still casts an awkward glance around him. Gods

If his brothers could see him now, Azriel thinks dryly.

He swats at the shadow that had unhelpfully fed him the information. It dances away from him, swooping down to circle the staff on the ground with its others, a mass of black surrounding it.

Azriel bends down and gingerly picks up the staff, his hazel eyes staring at it for a long moment. Where your hands have been.

After a moment, his fingers curl around it. His marred hands feel like they're glowing again, warm and tingling, even if he knows it's all in his mind. Even so, he swears the golden thread between you hums, just ever so slightly.

He'll allow himself this, just this once, Azriel decides. His grip tightens and he heads to the ring, preparing to train, his hands where yours were just mere hours before.

—

The day after you had met Cassian, as the dawn breaks over sky, you find him on the training balcony before you.

You're a little later than you'd normally be, the sun actually rising before you do. You're moving a little more sluggishly too, but for once it's for a better reason.

Sleep, normally light and fitful for you, had actually been a reprieve last night. You slept deeply, falling into dreamless slumber and resting properly.

When morning crept in, dragging your eyelids up had felt like a mountainous amount of effort. Part of you wonders if it's because of the male across the balcony from you.

Allies, you had agreed upon.

It's a little easier to rest when you've made one less enemy.

Watching him now, stretching his supple and bulging arms, you have to force down the instilled anxiety that festers up, a force of habit that's kept you safe all these years.

You're not in Exordor anymore. You're not keeping any secrets.

Cassian clocks your hesitant stance in the doorway as he turns, a wide grin breaking across his face. His wings perk up, a genuine sign of his excitement. He stops his stretching momentarily to wave.

"Morning!" He calls out, despite the fact the distance between you doesn't require him to do so.

"Ally." He adds pointedly, leaning over to give an over the top wink.

Somewhere buried deep inside you, a laugh almost wants to wriggle free, but it's smothered before you can think too hard. You give him a wry smile instead, the best you can manage, and take a tentative step down onto the balcony. Your wings give a tiny shiver in the passing breeze.

"Good morning," You manage to return, the words sticking in your throat on the way up. It's awkward but nothing in Cassian's friendly demeanor changes to indicate he's noticed. Your feet lead you over towards the weapons rack.

It's as you reach them do you realise your heart is rabbiting wildly, pounding in your chest, stewing you in discomfort. The hair on the back of your neck rises, prickling with unease. Your back is turned to a fierce warrior, one that could very well attack you.

And worse, you'll be training next to him, still not healed, still stumbling on your feet—revealing all the ways to strike you down.

You—you haven't done this, ever. You haven't trained with someone completely as yourself, with no facade to hide beneath. It suddenly becomes incredibly vulnerable.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the training staff and you try your best to swallow down your nerves.

Cassian has kept his distance, resuming his stretches, but you don't miss how his eyes dance over to you every couple of seconds. For a moment, it alarms you but as you find a place and settle into your stance, you steal another glimpse.

It's more like... a dog wagging its tail, you think faintly.

You press down the urge to smile and begin your exercises.

There's all of ten minutes of silence before it gets broken.

"How do you like Velaris?"

You pause in your motions, huffing to catch your breath as your grip the training staff loosens. You cast a glance over at Cassian who's now picked up one of the broadswords, beginning to throw its weight around easily.

You blink and for a moment, your eyes dart out over the edge of the balcony, to the city teeming with life, so close and yet so far from you. A part of you aches fiercely to see it.

"I... haven't been into the city." You answer honestly. It comes out curt and doesn't exactly answer his question.

Eyeing his sword nervously, your force your aching muscles through another series of exercises. You're a sliver better than the day before but when your ear twinges loudly, you still stumble, a minuscule motion. Your heart lurches up your throat, frustration welling like a tidal wave within you.

"Okay, then how do you like the House of Wind?"

You pause again, looking over to Cassian tentatively, the pain in your ear momentarily forgotten. The rising frustration in you dissipates at the distraction. He waves a casual hand over to the house you've been residing in since you arrived in Velaris and smiles once more.

You swallow thickly. What is his angle here?

"I haven't..." You struggle to put your thoughts into words. It's... different. New. Unsettling. You don't want to say the wrong thing. For all you know, this may well be his home.

Eventually, you find your voice. "I like my room. It's—" Several words ping to the front of your mind. "—big."

You cringe. Some compliment that is. You're too honest even if it is true; you're far too used to the familiar cramped space of your own cabin. Even sharing walls with others is foreign to you and you're incredibly thankful you haven't run into anyone unexpectedly in any corridors yet.

It doesn't occur to you that it might entirely be by design, thanks to Rhys' strict instruction.

Cassian grins. "Yes, I recall Illyria being hardly known for it's roomy cabins."

He swings the sword around with a flick of his wrist, more like an idle motion than anything. Your eyes still flicker down keenly, watching for any threat, just in case.

"So, you haven't explored the house much then?" Cassian continues, feigning a stab forward with the sword, his eyes on his motions but his attention still focused primarily on you.

You follow his lead and swing the training staff again, in an arching whoosh. You shake your head in answer to his question.

"Do you want to?"

"Do you always talk this much during training?"

The words come out before you can think to check them, sucking in a sharp breath as you realise how snappy that sounded. Like you're looking for a fight.

You ready yourself to sink into a defensive stance, before you realise that Cassian has only laughed in response. A curl of his tied back hair comes loose as he shakes his head, the action almost... fond.

"Only when I'm trying to make friends." He grins warmly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Sorry, I'll stop prying."

You swallow and nod slightly, hoping it won't be read as rude. Though you'd had a hard time believing it, Cassian had been true to his word; no fighting unless it was in the ring. You hadn't dared to go near it yet.

Readjusting your stance, you prepared to go through the motions once more. It's still a bit more of the juvenile exercises than you're used to—forced back to the basics as you retrain your body—but also because you're solitary training. You're used to sparring with others.

Stealing a glimpse at Cassian, you ponder if—if you might, eventually that is, train alongside him as you had done with Azriel.

Moving the training staff deftly, you thrust it forward and twist your lithe body to dart forward again, a small patter of your feet on the stone.

It's maneuver used for rushing opponents, throwing them off their balance and driving them backwards. It works for you, mostly, but the way your wings cut through the air, the slightest whistle through the holey scars, makes you a little unsteady.

"You fight like you're bigger than you are."

Straightening up, you breathe heavily and peer around the edges of your wings back at Cassian—who apparently isn't done talking at all.

He nods to you, in reference the maneuver you've just performed. "That is a move usually far better suited for someone of a larger stature."

You clear your throat, wings curling in a bit closer around you. "Yes. Azriel, he- he was trying to rectify that. There's only one way to train Illyrians, as I'm sure you know."

Cassian nods again, lowering the sword to hang at his side. "That I do. However, I feel Azriel may have been taking the wrong approach given... the information he was not privy to at the time."

Your brows knit together, something wrong twisting tightly in your chest.

"Because I'm..."

Female.

"Not a male?"

The words come out sharp without meaning to.

Cassian's picks up on your defensiveness, his expression softening. He gives a little so-so motion with his free hand, his wings rustling behind him. "A bit, but not for reasons you may think."

When you don't speak, he continues, his explanation unfurling.

"Your centre of gravity is different to ours. That actually changes the best way for you to fight. More of your strength comes from these—"

He slaps his hands down onto his thighs with a grin.

"—than from your arms. For that reason, there are moves you will be better at than what you've been taught."

Cassian cocks his head, his dark eyes squinting for a moment, deep in thought. "Azriel likely switched your training to agility based, didn't he?"

You nod gingerly. You had no idea if what he was said was true. If there was a fighting style suited to females. That would require... female warriors which, for all you've ever known, is a highly unlikely thing to exist.

Though, being he is the General of the Night Court's armies, you'd likely assume Cassian knows what he's talking about.

He nods, that same easy smile. "He was right to do so. Most camps focus on brute strength and stamina. Makes for good warriors that can take hits and keep going. You can train that way if you still wish but you might find you excel when your efforts are put elsewhere."

It takes a long moment before you realise exactly what his words mean.

An offer. He's offering to train you, to teach you.

Pleasant surprise blooms inside you, warm, curling up behind your ribs like a purring cat. Cassian's eyes are light and friendly, his body language relaxed as though if you turn him down, it'd be of no consequence to him. Merely an offer.

You turn it over in your mind, back and forth. The gentle wind from the mountains caresses across your cheekbones, a warm touch.

Inside, deep in your chest, there's something telling you to trust. To take the step forward, to accept Cassian's outstretched proposal. That you might regret it if you didn't.

"How?" Your eyes skirt up and down on instinct, still on alert for a threat that isn't coming.

Cassian grins infectiously, not even attempting to hide his glee. He rolls his shoulders back and assesses you once more.

"Have you ever heard of the headscissor takedown?"

—

Flesh hits stone, a large shuddering bang that echoes out the courtyard. In the distance, a couple birds take flight, squawking loudly. Pain ricochets through your knees, a warbling and jarring pain that has you gritting your teeth.

"You're..." Cassian's breath comes out raggedly. "Incredible!"

He beams from where he's pinned beneath you and your pain dashes away in a moment, something gleaning and prideful taking its place.

There's a rivulet of blood under his nose, his hair knocked loose, and you know hitting the ground as hard as he did won't have been nice. He continues on as if he hasn't.

"That was perfect form. You're a Cauldron-born natural!"

You huff a breath that might be an actual laugh this time and quickly retract yourself, standing to your feet. You waver momentarily, hesitance poisoning your thoughts, before you decide. Holding out your hand to help, Cassian is quick to put his hand in your own and use it to lug himself up.

When he gets to his feet, his grip loosens but he doesn't let go altogether.

"Hey," He says, more serious this time. His fingers around your wrist, soft and warm, still make your pulse jump nervously. You force yourself to meet his gaze, still friendlier than ever. "Seriously. You're very skilled and you're a fast learner. You've got the makings to be lethal. The Night Court is lucky to have you on our side."

His hand slips back, grazing your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips a beat.

No one has ever been... lucky to have you. It's so foreign that hearing someone say it aloud makes you forget to breath for one long second.

"I—" The word pushes out before you think about it. "That's... You-"

Praise is not a part of Illyrian training. You fumble with it, feeling entirely out of your depth, feeling oddly proud of yourself. It feels like your cheeks are warmer than usual.

Cassian chuckles, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "You're welcome." He says pointedly, making you realise you're supposed to say thank you after someone compliments you.

You flounder for another second, making Cassian laugh again, louder this time. He reaches forward and lightly taps you on the shoulder, a faux punch.

"You'll get used to it." He says. Part of you really, really wants to. "Now, c'mon. Let's go again. Hit me."

—

You think that now Cassian's got what he wanted—the two of you training together, learning the plethora of new moves, stances, blocks he has in his repertoire—he wouldn't have anymore questions.

You're sorely, sorely, wrong.

Two mornings later, the pair of you prepare for some sparring with the swords in the ring. Cassian's purposefully picked one of the heavier ones for himself, broad and long, but he'd put aside a blade for you.

It's smaller, lighter. It reminds you of Heartstriker.

Which reminds you of Azriel.

The mere thought of him has your heart humming, miserable and elated all at once. You're still not sure if you'd like to see him just yet, the confusing twist of betrayal too fresh, but still, some part of you seeks him out, consciously or not.

You want to wander the halls until you find the door to leads to him.

It's because he was your first friend. You reason, as you step up towards the sparring ring. He was the first person you trusted. Was? Is—maybe.

Do you still trust him?

Cassian is already in the ring, waiting as patiently as he can. His rustling wings give him away, even as casual as he looks leaned up against one of the corner posts.

His wings are stretched out, towards the sun's rays that are just beginning to slip over the horizon, trying to steal some of their warmth.

A yawn slips past your lips. The night of restful sleep was an outlier it seemed, the tendrils of a calming, easy sleep stolen away just as quickly.

Fingers curling around the hilt of the short sword, you step gingerly into the ring, eyes casting across to your opponent. You roll your shoulders back, warming up the muscles a bit more, and give your own wings a little shake. A shiver wracks through you in response, the chill of the morning touching on sensitive scars.

"Is there a particular reason Azriel is avoiding you?"

Your head snaps up at the sound of Cassian's voice, cool and calm.

He hasn't shifted, though his wings are tucked back in now. His sword is still relaxed at his side, his worn hand tucked around the hilt of it freely.

The usual chattiness that Cassian has been able to coax out of you these last few days shrivels up. Azriel is avoiding you? You hadn't wanted to see him but this—something curls up inside you, sour and foul. You swallow hard.

"I hadn't realised." You murmur, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your words.

Cassian blinks and seems to realise his mistake. He waves a hand dismissively, as if it can scratch away his last words. "I misspoke. I believe he is... keeping his distance."

He furrows his brow, face pinched, picking his words carefully. "For your sake." He adds.

You... don't know how you feel about that. On one hand, you're relieved. It's not by pure chance that you haven't seen him yet, it's purposeful—he's keeping out of your way, giving you peace.

On the other hand, something twined in your chest pangs sorrowfully, mourning the distance between you.

While Cassian's presence as an ally (or perhaps, you'll even admit, a friend) is comforting, you'll admit it does not fill the same shape in you as Azriel does. You miss him, quite terribly so.

"What makes you think he's avoiding me?" You ask.

Cassian gives an little shrug, his head tilting to the side just a bit. He smiles in a way that tells you he knows more than he lets on. Or maybe, he simply knows Azriel far better than you do.

"He usually trains in the morning." He explains nonchalantly. "He's taken to training at night since your arrival."

You frown at the new information. You don't want Azriel to be changing things for you, to bend and warp his routines in his home, just for you. You don't want him to avoid you either, even if you're beginning to think you might never be brave enough to face him.

He left you. He was your first friend and the betrayal of that is entirely too new— but you don't know where to draw the line.

You don't know for how long you're allowed to be upset — or how long you can let this go on before you're punishing yourself just as much as you are him.

Flexing your grip on the sword, you stare across at Cassian and when you open your mouth, the words tumble out with warning.

"He..." Your breath hitches.

Something awful hooks into your chest, remembering the way he had folded himself into shadows, away from you. The look on his face.

"He left me. When I needed him more than ever." You admit.

Your voice doesn't waver but Cassian can still see the slight tremble in your shoulders, rolling in. Your eyes have dropped to study the floor of the sparring ring, seemingly lost in the memory.

Cassian's face softens, his heart aching for you. You don't even notice how your own wings have begun to curl in, a soft, comforting blanket around yourself.

It's clear you're struggling to juggle the myriad of emotions that haunt you and he gets it, Mother, does he get it. It had been hard the first time, during those first tentative months of friendship with Rhys, before Azriel was even in the picture. Cassian had one emotion that served him any purpose and that was spite.

Spite kept him alive. Spite told him who to knock down and who to put down.

Friendships and spite are not the greatest combination. When Rhys had done something Cassian had vehemently disagreed with, it had felt like a deception, stinging as badly as the backhand from Lord Devlon, sneering the word bastard.

It took time to undo the messy tangle of emotions, to learn that not all betrayal fell into the same box. That forgiveness for some people was not weakness at all.

So, Cassian asks. "Did he come back?"

You glance up at him, eyes flickering with emotion at the question. After a moment, you swallow and say. "Yes. He did."

Cassian nods. He stretches his wings out a bit and reaches up to push a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"Alright. How long do you intend to punish him for that mistake?"

You freeze at that question and Cassian can tell he's hit the right spot. You're unsure how long you should—because all you know is that you're hurt. And when you're hurt, you don't know any other way to deal with it.

There's only one pathway ingrained for when someone hurts you. Cassian realises suddenly, Mother help him, that he must try to be good at the talking side of things. He needs to show you there's other ways you can go.

"Because," He continues, not waiting for your answer. "I can assure you that Azriel will punish himself for far longer and far harsher than you ever will. I've known my brother a long time. If there anyone who understands the gravity of his actions and will torture himself over them, it's Azriel."

A hesitant expression shutters across your face, your brows furrowing slightly. Cassian doesn't need Rhys' daemati gift to understand the conflict that's battling within you.

"You think I should forgive him."

You don't pose it as a question. A little bit more of that iciness has bled back into your voice, on guard again.

Cassian can tell that, like him, you don't take well to being told what to do. That's fine; Cassian has no intention of doing that whatsoever.

"I think that is your decision entirely." Cassian says, letting the words breathe so they truly sink in. He watches as your eyes narrow momentarily and then your shoulders relax, sinking down an inch.

"But," He says gingerly. "If you avoid each other, you might never move past this. Might never move forward. It might be worth considering what you really want at the end of the day."

The sun has properly broken across the mountain ridges, no longer just sparse rays. You turn your face, facing towards the warmth. There's still that scrunch between your eyebrows, betraying your deep thought, but Cassian has said enough for now.

He moves his sword and taps the end of it against the stone, a soft steel ping grabbing your attention. You whip your head back to face him and Cassian grins, raising his sword.

"Enough talking. More fighting."

You smile, a little hesitant but entirely genuine, and raise your sword in response. That's one thing you're sure you know how to do right.

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

@rhysandorian @laughterafter @brieftriumphnightmare @hirah-yummar @some-person-somewhere

@scooobies @sfhsgrad-blog @cherry-cin @bookloverandalsocats @megscabinetofcurios

@doodlebugsblog @landofpetrichor @acourtofdreamsandshadows @florabelll @tanyaherondale

@aomi-recs @letmejustreadthanks @problemfinder @sevikas-whore @doodlebugg16-blog

@meandmysillywriting @justingnoreme @krowiathemythologynerd @hanatsuki-hime @sunny747

@coffeebeforewater @kalulakunundrum @marina468 @moonbirde @yellow-birdy @sheblogs

@shinyghosteclipse @randombibitch @itsjustwinter @emryb @books-all-the-way13

@thatsassyhufflepuff @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @bobbyisbored

@historygeekqueen @roseodelle @assriels @rem-ie @storiumemporium

@lovingkelj @itsswritten @breadsticks2004 @marina468 @sapphena

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 30

Bruce Wayne + Roleplay

This was supposed to be a Bruce and a “paparazzi” reader situation, but I couldn’t be assed to write it. So have some good ol, ceo and assistant roleplay, but with a twist. What if BRUCE, was the assistant?

I almost put Bruce in a skirt in this, but contained myself, youll have to enjoy him in sock suspender instead.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

It wasn’t every day that Bruce got to enjoy himself like this. Where he got to hang up the cowl and act out a whole scene with his lover and not be interrupted. The cowl wasn’t far away, it never was, but it was at least put away inside the closet on the other side of the room, beside your own hero suit.

Had he been the airheaded billionaire that the public thought he was, Bruce might have been bold enough to act out these fantasies in his own office at WE, but even Bruce wasn’t that dumb. In the end, the two of you just set up one of the many normally forgotten offices at the manor, far enough from the rest of the so-called bat clan to get some privacy.

You had made a comment once upon a time that maybe the reason Bruce liked to be the assistant, the nurse, the maid, so on and so forth, was because he always craved control during his everyday life. Which resulted in him wanting to give up the power to you, in a controlled discussed manner. You may have been right, but it wasn’t as if Bruce would verbalize that.

When you two had the time, you pulled on one of the many expensive tailored suits Bruce had gotten for you over the years, styling your hair in the most stereotypical CEO style you could find on pinterest, even pulling on one of Bruces expensive watches to complete the look.

Whenever he wanted to be the assistant, Bruce pulled a look that always had you thinking about Clark for just a split second. It wasn’t in an attracted to Clark type of way, more just a small thought about how similar they looked, as Bruce gave himself a hairstyle that made him look like a true sweetheart and put on fake glasses to match the cheaper suit he wore.

The roles were what made it so good, to see Bruce stumble over nothing and drop “important documents” all over the floor as you sat back and glared like a CEO from a trashy romance novel as Bruce got onto his knees to try and pick it all up again.

Of course, Bruce always made sure to turn his ass towards you as he “struggled” to pick up all the documents, pushing them around on the floor as he arched his back and spluttered apologies, his hips wiggling from side to side as he reached and arched.

You would spit comments and sneer at your “clumsy assistant”, sending him on tasks that he would mess up until you needed to punish him for it. Bruce always whined and apologized with a shaky high-pitched tone as you bent him over your desk, pulling his cheap slacks down with little care.

His whines and gasps were like music as you turned his behind and thighs rest. Sometimes you used your palm, other times a ruler, your belt, or whatever else you two had agreed to use. Seeing your usual gruff and serious lover so flushed and keening was like a drug in your system, only making you lay into him even harder until Bruce was coating the desk in his spend.

When this happened, you would tsk and coo mockingly at him as you pulled his slacks fully off his legs, leaving him in his button-up, socks and sock suspenders. Even after all these years, your lover was still so flexible, allowing you to pull one of his legs up onto the desk to give you easy access.

Bruce would whine and moan so prettily as he tried to rock back against you, the fake glasses having fallen off with a clatter at an extra hard thrust that would have had him skittering across the desk, if you hadn’t gripped onto his strong thighs and wrenched him back against you.

It was only good enough when you had him spilling tears from pleasure, his voice melting from the fake pitch he used as your so-called assistant, into his true overstimulated voice. You knew that acting sometimes was what he needed, but getting him to spill enough times to turn into a loose limbed loving mess was almost more satisfying for you.

You always made sure you pull off most of your “costume”, even if it was just clothes you guys already owned, before you got to work taking care of Bruce. You had to wipe him down, giving him lots of love and kisses, before putting him into a prepared bath.

After that you spent a little too long cleaning up the office, just so poor Alfred wouldn’t have to do it, before you could return to Bruce and bring him to bed. He was always so nice and pliant after scenes like this, where he didn’t have to be Batman, Brucie or even Bruce, and that was all you wanted, for him to be happy and satisfied.

[raeraesmentality]

Hey. Um.

As much as I would love to believe that Trump could get nailed with election fraud, there are several problems with this evidence.

Just, yknow, keep in mind I'm not anyone well-versed in politics, do your own research, this is just from reading articles over the past few days.

First of all, votes aren't fully counted yet. Looking at numbers right now is guaranteed to be inaccurate. So right now we don't KNOW exactly how many voted for Harris yet let alone if it's 20 million less than Biden in 2020.

Yes, the fake bomb threats were linked to Russia. Russia has tried to interfere with elections before and has interest in Trump being elected. This is in my mind the most valid thing to be suspicious about, Trump has bragged about being buddy buddy with Putin before. Everything else... not so much.

Pennsylvania did receive thousands of last-minute challenges to absentee ballots. That's what the email is about, not some "unidentifiable reason" and it's not proof of cheating. Yes, they were in bad faith and a concentrated effort to disrupt faith in the absentee ballot system, but there's nothing yet to show a connection to Trump. There are plenty of conservative groups distrustful of mail-in and absentee ballots who would have reason to do this without Trump being directly involved.

The mail-in data not being recognized, the simplest and most likely reason is software errors. I can't know for sure what it looked like in Pennsylvania, but I know in my area at least they were dealing with new voter software that they were still learning. If they were also using new software here, and are already stretched thin, it's not really surprising there would be errors like this. Unless something further comes out, there's no reason to believe it's deliberate interference.

The Milwaukee recount is because a machine wasn't sealed properly. Not one official source I can find has mentioned anything about suspicion of fraud.

I know how bad Trump being elected is for so many people, I would love nothing more than for there to be enough evidence of him cheating to stop him from taking office.

But we need to keep facts straight and not fall into misinformation, no matter how much we want it to be true.

Yes it's technically possible, we all know he's not above it, and we're all scared and angry and disappointed. But it is unlikely that most of this could be pinned on Trump, and I have even less confidence that it would even be enough to keep him from the presidency after January 6th didn't.

Still, absolutely call for a recount. This election was so messy that it can't hurt, and even if it isn't enough to turn the election in Harris' favor it could still help in the House and Senate, not to mention smaller local offices that can still do a lot of good in their communities. Just keep the facts straight.

And in the meantime keep focused on what you can do. Organize resources, make sure your vaccines are up to date, renew your ID and passport, get involved in your community, donate to families who need it, share resources with others. Hell, just be nice to your neighbors no matter their political affiliations. (many are pushed right-wing because they feel ostracized by left leaning groups while the right welcomes them.)

Just... Don't lose hope. There are still things we can do to help even in small ways.

I haven’t really seen any of the more recent U.S. election news hitting tumblr yet so here’s some updates (now edited with sources added):

There’s evidence of Trump cheating and interfering with the election.

Possible Russian interference.

Mail-in ballots are not being counted or “recognized” in multiple (notably swing) states.

30+ bomb threats were called in and shut down polling stations on Election Day.

20+ million votes are still unaccounted for, and that’s just to have the same voter turnout as 2020.

There was record voter turnout and new/first-time voter registration this year. We definitely should be well over the turnout in 2020.

U.S. citizens are using this site to demand, not only a recount, but a complete investigation into election fraud and interference for the reasons stated above:

Here is what I submitted as an example:

An investigation for election interference and fraud is required. We desperately need a recount or even a revote. The American people deserve the right to a free and fair election. There has been evidence unveiled of Trump cheating and committing election fraud which is illegal. There is some evidence of possible Russian interference. At least 30+ bomb threats were called in to polling places. Multiple, notably swing states, have ballots unaccounted for and voting machines not registering votes. Ballots and ballot boxes were tampered with and burned. Over 20 million votes that we know of are unaccounted for. With record turnout and new voter registration this year, there should be no possibility that there are less votes than even in the 2020 election.

Sources (working on finding more links but if anyone wants to add info, it’s appreciated):

FBI addressing Russian interference and bomb threats:

Emails released by Rachael Bellis (private account, can’t share original tweet) confirming Trump committing election fraud:

Pennsylvania's Centre County officials say they are working with their ballot scanner vendor to figure out why the county's mail-in ballot data is "not being recognized when uploaded to the elections software:”

Wisconsin recount:

[ID:

Multiple screenshots and images.

The first is a screenshot with a link and information for contacting the White House directly regarding election fraud. The instructions include choosing to leave a comment to President Joe Biden directly and to select election security as the reason.

The screenshot then instructs people to include any or all of the following information in a paragraph as a comment to the president:

32 fake bomb threats were called into Democratic leaning poll places, rendering polling places closed for at least an hour.

A lot of people reporting their ballots were not counted for various reasons.

This all occurred in swing states.

This is too coincidental that these things happen and swing in his favor after months of hinting at foul play.

Directly state that an investigation for tampering, interference, fraud is required, not just a recount.

The second image is from the FBI Twitter account that reads:

The FBI is aware of bomb threats to polling locations in several states, many of which appear to originate from Russian email domains. None of the threats have been determined to be credible thus far. https://t.co/j3YfajVK1m — FBI (@FBI) November 5, 2024

The next four Gmail screenshots of an email sent to Rachael Bellis from Chris T. Spackman that read together as follows:

Dear BELLIS, RACHAEL E., The Dauphin County Board of Elections received a challenge to your absentee ballot you applied for in the November 5, 2024 General Election. The challenge argues that a provision of the Pennsylvania Election Code takes precedence over the federal Uniformed and Overseas Citizens Absentee Voting Act (UOCAVA), which requires states and counties to permit U.S. citizens who move overseas to vote by absentee ballot for federal offices based on their last U.S. residential address.

The full text of the challenge that was filed appears below this email.

You may respond to the challenge in any of the following ways:

1. Call the Bureau of Registration and Election at (717) 780-6360;

2. Email a statement to the Bureau at Election election@dauphincounty.gov. Any statement you submit regarding the period during which you lived in Dauphin County, any family or connections that you still have here, and why you are now residing abroad would be read into the record.

3. Appear in person at a Board of Elections hearing scheduled for Friday, November 8 at a time to be determined in the Commissioners Public Hearing Room, 4th floor of Dauphin County Administration Building, 2 S 20d St, Harrisburg, PA 17111. The meeting is also likely to be livestreamed on Facebook on the Dauphin County channel.

Sincerely,

Christopher T Spackman

TEXT OF CHALLENGE BEGINS

Dear Dauphin County Board of Elections,

I am submitting this challenge to an absentee ballot application pursuant to 25 Pa. Stat.

3146.8(f).

25 Pa. Stat. 3146.8(f) Any person challenging an application for an absentee ballot, an absentee ballot, an application for a mail-in ballot or a mail-in ballot for any of the reasons provided in this act shall deposit the sum of ten dollars ($10.00) in cash with the county board, which sum shall only be refunded if the challenge is sustained or if the challenge is withdrawn within five (5) days after the primary or election. If the challenge is dismissed by any lawful order then the deposit shall be forfeited. The county board shall deposit all deposit money in the general fund of the…

The rest of the forwarded email is cut off.

The last image is a screenshot of the official statement from the Centre County, Pennsylvania Board of Commissioners released on November 6, 2024 that states:

Centre County Working with Ballot Scanner Vendor to Export Election Results.

(Bellefonte, PA) -Centre County Elections Office is working continuously to provide mail-in ballot data in order to post unofficial results.

To this point, all ballots have been scanned, including all mail-in ballots.

Centre County's Election team and IT team have identified that the data are successfully being exported from the mail-in ballot scanners, but that the data is not being recognized when uploaded to the elections software.

Centre County's Administrator, John Franek, Jr. stated, "We have not stopped working, and we will continue to work until unofficial results are posted and reported to the Pennsylvania Department of State."

As a next step, Centre County has begun working with the equipment vendor to adjust configurations to make the two systems-the mail-in ballot scanner and the elections software where data are uploaded -compatible with one another.

We will provide updates as we make progress.

/end ID]

[mydemonsyourangels]

i think raymew makes a lot of sense. it just feels like one of those things that would have always been hanging in the air. sometimes two people need to date each other in order to realise how bad of an idea it is for them to date each other

[bigweldindustries]

going through the hades 2 stuff and im sorry but i just have to ramble a second because look at Hephaestus

he's not just a wheelchair user but also an amputee. an above knee amputee. wheelchair users are already next to nonexistant in video games but amputees exist in this really...disheartening? spot where they're pretty much just reduced to "person with a cybernetic limb" - it's always just somewhere from "just a cool visual design" to flat out "superpower". I can't think of a video game amputee that is actually disabled by their limb differences - I'm all for futuristic worlds where prosthetics and other disability aids are far advanced from what they are now, but that's not really what's implied by these designs. They're just... Cool designs that in no way reflect on the real-world experience of being an amputee.

Look at Hephaestus, though. Look at that prosthetic. Whilst stylised it very much looks like it functions like common mechanical knees - knee bends when thigh is lifted, knee straightens when thigh is lowered. He's a wheelchair user as well as a prosthetic user - every prosthetic user I know is also a wheelchair user as a prosthetic is not usable in every occasion and also cause exhaustion and pain if used constantly.

Whilst we can't see much of his wheelchair the position he's sat in and the wheels very much evoke active wheelchair to me - this carries on to very specifically the thickness of his arms. Whilst a lot of Hades designs are muscular Hephaestus has very noticeably thick arms - which makes sense, as active wheelchairs require a lot of arm strength.

Just overall this design is making me want to cry - he's not just an actual wheelchair user in a video game, he's a realistic depiction of an amputee, a disability usually brushed over in order to give a character a fun design quirk and nothing else. He's fat and he's hot and he's a realistic depiction of an above knee amputee. Oh my god. Oh my god?

[btspeedfreaxx]

You know you are living in a Dystopian world when the Government starts cracking down on FANFICTION.

Yes, I am Canadian, but as someone who considers themselves to be a Sex positive enthusiast, I’m so beyond Enraged and Disgusted over the “policy’s” that these Corrupt-“Christian” politicians are trying to implement.

teaching, no sorry ENFORCING Abstinence-Education, aka “wait until marriage” DOES NOT WORK, unless you actively believe in that practice!

These @$$hat’s claim they are trying to protect the people- BULLSH!T.🤬

By implementing such a dangerous system, and shaming those who so dare to go against the standard system-

By not teaching these kids consent, or how body parts work, or what you can do to protect yourself from people, both men and woman, who may want to take advantage of you-

You as the “educators” are setting up the stats to SKYROCKET for Young teens to bare the traumatic cross of Early teen pregnancies, Sexual Violence, etc!

And Further more- call me Delusional, but Having access to Porn ,(* Ethically sourced and in doeses that don’t overtake your public life, may I emphasize,) IS ACTUALLY HEALTHY!! Stuff like Smut Fiction allows for young people who may be figuring out their sexualities a SAFE SPACE to explore. It can prove to be a great tool in helping people to create the pathways, boundaries of what they like and what they don’t like.

It’s ESPECIALLY important, because down the road, assuming you don’t practice abstinence, you and your partner are going to have to have a very open and honest conversation about BOUNDARIES when it comes time to taking that next step in the bedroom. Again, if that’s what you choose.

God, I’m sorry…. But I am just SO furious with what’s been unfolding before my eyes, so much for “The land of the free”. 🤬

To all my American friends who are in distress over the recent election. To all my trans Friends, Gay/LGBTQ+ friends, friends of Colour, different race, and of all marginalized communities. I am so f*cking sorry. I cried an endless river when I saw the results of the election… I’m not shocked. Just angered and ashamed. Ashamed at how much hate has overtaken our world. Just because we are all trying to coexist. I don’t think Harris would have been a godsend to America by any means. But she would have been a far better fate then what we who fought so hard to get to where we are now are having to face. This shouldn’t be happening to you guys. And I fear my country may not be too far behind in these deranged ideologies taking over our governments.

But please know you are not alone.🫂🫂 whatever you do, DO NOT GIVE UP. Do not end it here. You are proof that love still exists on this planet. All of standing here, today, for all those who sacrificed our own lives to give us the life they so desperately wanted all of us to have. We are now the resistance. We are the next bearers of that torch. Grieve, process your feelings, reach out to friends and building yourself a support system. Do whatever you need to do in order to survive.

Yesterday. We grieve. Today? We Organize.

We stand our Ground, and make a vow to keep on going. Excruciating times are heading our way. But we’ve faced it before, and this community has come out stronger every single time.

We’ve been here long since before the creation of the Bible- and we will NEVER go away.

We will fight to protect our God-given right to exist here, on earth. Not out of hatred. But out of Spite, and out of LOVE.🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️✨♾️✊🏻 Because love will always win.

🫂🫂🫂 everyone please stay safe out there. I’d like to end this ridiculously long rant by stating that my tumblr page is a Safe space for Woman, For Trans/LGBTQ+ individuals, and for people of all races, colours and minority groups. I love you all.✨

If any one of my posts is to break containment, make it this one.

Before January 2025, download your favorite fics, especially those with smut or queer content.

If Project 2025 goes into effect (which it very likely will now that we have three red branches of government in the US), they may attempt to restrict the use/sharing of media on sites like ao3.

This particularly applies to fics with smut or any type of queer content, because the official Project 2025 document states, "Pornography, manifested today in the omnipresent propagation of transgender ideology and sexualization of children, for instance... has no claim to First Amendment protection... Pornography should be outlawed."

Now, I don't expect ao3 to disappear or go anywhere without a fight, but it's best to be on the safe side these days.

To download your favorite fics:

Go to archiveofourown.org and open the fic you want to download.

At the top right corner, to the right of the 'subscribe' button, is a button that says 'download'. Click it.

A drop-down menu will give you the option to choose the format of your download. Choose your preferred format (.epub and .pdf are my personal favorites -- .epub lets you open a fic in the apple books app and .pdf is compatible with like every device and program out there).

When you click the button for your preferred format, a pop-up window appears confirming your choices. The title of the document will default to the title of the fic, so be aware of that and consider changing conspicuous titles to something ignorable, especially if you share the computer.

You're done! Now do this with all your favorite fics!

Stay safe out there, your favorite characters are rooting for you <3

[nouverx]

*proceeds to drink the whole bottle*

Yeah Alastor you're gonna be loved and appreciated wether you want it or not :)

[800db-cloud]

i’m literally shaking buy them brown contacts pls

[modemica]

“I keep on trying to embrace you both, why won’t you let me?”