#they're men so they would be drones

[null-doesnothing]

they are bees now lol peep their tiny hats

[rainybubbles]

What hug COD men would give you ?

Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz, Keegan

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

G H O S T : Comfort hug.

You always used to jokingly ask Simon, "Want a hug?" knowing how much he detested physical contact.

He'd always respond with a firm no.

It became your way of greeting this burly soldier, a ritual of sorts.

So why... why was he now whispering those words to you?

"Need a hug?" His voice was hoarse, raspy, bearing the marks of too many cigarettes and too much silence. Yet there was an unexpected warmth in it, a warmth that could thaw you.

"No." you said.

Cold and trembling, with lips turning blue and tears welling in your eyes, you were at your breaking point.

It started with a soldier's criticism, then your chief's belittling of your work, followed by a letter from your mom, a malfunctioning oven, and a stubborn onion. It all culminated in your retreat to the cold room, seeking solace, seeking release.

But the door was jammed, leaving you alone in your despair. What a pathetic demise for a cook. Yet Ghost, ever watchful, came to your rescue, finding you in your distress. And in that moment, he echoed your jest.

"Need a hug?" he repeated.

You nodded. He knelt beside you, gathering you in his arms, offering not just his warmth but also solace. Your arms instinctively wrapped around him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"It's okay."

"The lock, it—"

"For everything."

"Do I look that awful?"

"Yeah."

"You're supposed to say no."

"Not a liar, darling."

"Not a hugger either, but here you are."

"You're the exception, I suppose."

You were.

What you initially thought were mere circumstances now seemed to hold a deeper truth.

And the next day, when you initiated your ritual greeting with "Need a hug?" Simon's response of "maybe" signaled a shift in your dynamic.

________________________________

SOAP : "I'm home in your arms" hug.

He always gives hugs.

Soap is a very physical person; you knew that even though you were just a friend of a friend. You never dared to speak to him much, too shy. He seemed like a sun.

At gatherings, you were always quiet, so you weren’t sure if he remembered your name.

But he always had his eyes on you, always had his hug for you, and when nobody listened to your ramblings, he was there asking you to continue.

It was a silly crush; his hugs were something you secretly enjoyed. A thing, a treat for your heart, even though you knew it wouldn’t be more.

So when you opened your door, expecting it to be the delivery man from something you ordered online or maybe some important packages to sign, but…

You got bumped into.

You fell with the strength of the stranger’s hug until you recognized the mohawk.

“John?”

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said, helping you up.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m the one who needed a place. Mancy asked you, right?”

You remembered.

Mancy had asked if her friend could stay at your place for one week.

You didn’t know it would be John.

“Oh, yeah.”

“You don’t seem happy.”

“Well, if you hug me so hard I’ll fall every day, then no.”

He chuckled.

“It’s because I’ve missed you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, after three months without your pretty smile, a man goes insane.”

“My dad lives just fine without it.”

“True, but he’s a moron. I’m not. Now give me a hug.”

“Okay.”

And you did.

Gently, you noticed his hands around your waist, the way he slowly soothed his breath.

You didn’t know, but the only thought Johnny had in mind was, “I’m home.”

____________________________

GAZ : "I'm sorry" hug

The TV droned on in the background, but your gaze couldn't focus on it. Your stomach was tied in knots, and you felt utterly lost. 

The argument had been trivial, blown out of proportion by fatigue and frustration. You and Kyle were both drained, and the clash of tempers only fueled the misunderstanding, escalating it into a full-blown confrontation.

Now, you found yourself at a loss for what to do next. Kyle had stormed off for a walk, his usual retreat during tough times. But this time, his absence felt like an eternity.

You knew you could reach out, ask him where he was, beg him to come back. Yet, your stubborn pride held you back.

Was it pride or fear? Fear that he wouldn't return?

The nagging voice in your head echoed the doubts others had planted—that you weren't good enough for him, not pretty enough, not kind enough. You felt inadequate, unworthy of his love.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, your nose tingling with the threat of more to come. It felt absurd to be sitting here, watching a documentary while your relationship teetered on the brink of collapse.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears as you sat there, watching a documentary you couldn't even comprehend. 

When the door finally creaked open, your heart leaped into your throat, memories of past confrontations resurfacing. But the footsteps that followed were hesitant, tentative.

Turning slowly, you found Kyle standing there, mirroring your own disheveled state. Puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks spoke volumes of his own internal struggle.

Standing up, you met his gaze, unsure of what to say or do.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the silence that enveloped you both.

"Me too," you replied, your own voice catching in your throat. "It was foolish of me to let my anger get the better of me."

"I agree," he murmured, stepping closer. "We need to find a better way to communicate, darling."

"Yeah, and maybe get some sleep," you added, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Definitely," he whispered, extending his hand towards you.

You took it, feeling the warmth of his touch, and allowed him to pull you into an embrace. In that moment, words became superfluous as you both sought solace in each other's arms, tears mingling and laughter bubbling forth.

"I feel ridiculous," you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest.

"Me too," he confessed, his grip tightening around you. "But being with you makes everything better."

"Agreed," you murmured, snuggling closer.

"What if..." he began, his voice trailing off.

"What if what?" you prompted, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

"What if we can't sleep because of the neighbors?" he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, what about them?" you replied, confused.

"Let's move out," he proposed, his eyes earnest.

"Kyle, we live in separate apartments," you reminded him, a hint of skepticism creeping into your tone.

"Then let's get a house," he persisted, his gaze unwavering. "A place where it's just you and me, lost in the forest. Our sanctuary."

"You're just saying that," you countered, though a flicker of hope ignited within you.

"I mean it," he insisted, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I want a life with you, everything included. The silly arguments, the morning wake-ups, all of it. I don't want to wait to see you, but I also don't want you living on base. A house... it's us, it's safety, it's peace, it's..."

"Commitment," you finished for him, the weight of his words settling in your heart.

"Yeah, that too," he admitted, a shy smile gracing his lips.

"Okay," you whispered, a surge of emotion welling up inside you.

"Really?" he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yeah," you confirmed, squeezing his hand.

He enveloped you in a tighter embrace, and in that moment, you knew that perhaps this sorry hug was the beginning of something beautiful.

________________________________

PRICE : last hug

You felt his embrace, and a smile graced your lips.

“I never pegged you as a hugger, Captain,” you remarked.

“Don’t talk, soldier,” he replied, his voice firm yet gentle.

Nevertheless, you found comfort in his arms, basking in the warmth they provided. Your consciousness nudged you to close your eyes and surrender to the moment.

“Cap, can I rest?” you inquired softly.

“Not yet,” he responded tersely.

“But why? Even ghosts nap during brief,” you persisted.

“Don’t make me spell it out,” he said, his voice trembling, tears glistening in his eyes. 

Confusion laced your whisper, “Why are you crying, Cap?”

As you attempted to step back, you felt something damp on his hands. Bringin your own hand up, you saw it- red, your blood.

Blood.

Your blood.

It wasn’t a mere cut; it was a hemorrhage.

“Why…” you began, your voice trailing off.

“Don’t give up,” he interjected, his tone weighted with understanding.

He knew. You knew.

You wouldn’t last, and the medics wouldn’t arrive in time.

“Cap, could you...hold me tighter?” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper.

“Soldier,” he acknowledged.

“Just one last embrace, please,” you implored, a desperate longing for affection evident in your words.

Yearning for one final moment of love.

He acquiesced.

You buried your nose in his aftershave, despite the mingling scent of tobacco. Your arms savored the feel of his gear, your cheek nuzzling against his neck, the roughness of his beard against your skin.

Despite the warmth he provided, a chill crept over you. Your lips grew heavy, your eyelids too burdened to stay open.

“I'm glad it was you, Cap. Your hugs are the best,” you murmured, a serene smile gracing your lips.

With your blood staining his gear and your body cradled in his arms, he granted you your last hug, whispering your name softly.

____________

KEEGAN : "you're alive" hug

His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, his ears filled with screams. His eyes focused on Ghost’s voice, and then he saw you, lying on the ground.

What were you doing on the battlefield? You were a civilian. He sprinted towards you, but your body remained still. He reached out for your hands, but they slipped from his grasp.

Nightmare.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. His back was drenched in sweat, his mind replaying the image of you lifeless. He couldn’t move.

Reaching for his phone, he knew he wouldn’t believe you were alive until he saw it with his own eyes. He made his way to your shared flat, knocking on your door.

As you slowly opened your bedroom door, relief washed over him. "Keegan, what the hell—" He cut you off with a tight embrace, his hands on your neck feeling the rhythm of your heartbeat. "You're alive."

"Yeah, obviously. You saw me just two hours ago, we're roommates, Keegan."

"You're alive," he repeated, his voice trembling with emotion.

Seeing his state, you melted into the hug. "You need to sleep."

"I can't."

"In my bed, you can check if I'm alive like this, okay?"

"I don't want to—"

"Keegan."

"Okay."

Slowly, he settled into your bed, your warmth comforting him. You worked on your laptop, but he didn't mind. His arms wrapped around your body, he could feel the steady beat of your heart. He knew it was his favorite sound because it meant you were alive.

"Sleep well, Keegan."

"Thanks."

And that night, he didn’t have any more nightmares, wrapped in your embrace.

If you want more : my masterlist

[toxicmalysh]

The link we share

Chapter 29: Say that again

Word count: 2,222

Summary: youre walking through the compound after working in the lab all day when Wanda runs into you needing something

Warnings: slight angst if you squint smut guys..fingering (r recieving), strap on (r receiving), orgasm control, mommy kink, just feral they're a new couple they're gonna be at it like rabbits

⋆✧✦✧⋆

This morning you were down in the lab, singing along to your music as loud as you could, working on a project Tony had given you. You knew exactly what it was, thrusters for the suit he wanted to make you. Of course he hadn't gotten Natashas permission, but he didn't need it, instead flying under the radar to do it.

Going over the different types of metals and welding the suit took was intriguing, obviously you'd helped tony make components for his suits before, but never any plating or initial designs.

He'd easily be able to describe it as a prototype for a drone if he had to. You couldn't admit you weren't slightly excited.

“How's it going?”

Tony had to raise his voice over the music but his tone was still warming. You continued listening to your music for a while not bothering to pay him a second glance, but after the song finished you turned back to him,

“I'm just finishing up the discharge chamber.” You dragged your words out as you fixed each piece of the component together.

Tony nodded whilst humming, turning back to his own work.

You spent a little time discussing how each plate would suit your body type, and what colour scheme you'd like to have. You hadn't been working on the designs for very long, a few days at most, but you made light work and soon it'd be developed enough for you to try out the legs thrusters.

Bruce came down a few hours after you started, holding two cups of coffee, he said there wasn't any for Tony as his blood was already turning into caffeine.

“What's your plan for the week kid?” you looked up to Bruce's voice, after a moment of processing you took a breath,

“Still ignoring Natasha I see?” His tone was playful but deep down you knew he was scared of Natashas discipline it was almost adorable.

You bopped your head along to your music, still happy to be lost in the world of instrumental jazz.

“Probably just.”

Tony whistled cutting you off,

“Kid doesn't wanna talk about it, I think she's just gonna miss us whilst we're gone.”

You smiled briefly at Tony before turning your attention back to your work.

The truth was the team was going on a week long mission, Wanda was going too, they had all hands on deck. You however were going to visit your family home. It was getting closer to the end of summer and your father had said your mother wanted to see you. Of course that wasn't true, she wanted you there to be arm candy, to represent herself at a posh meeting or dinner. You couldn't say no, correction you could say no, you just never found the courage too.

You and your father never argued or fought but you weren't close, he was simply a stranger you lived with growing up. As your mother, well. You tend not to talk about her.

Every fiber of your being didn't want to go, but you knew there would be backlash if you didn't.

“Can someone pass me my welding torch please.”

Tony stood not taking his eyes off of his work as he brought his hand backwards.

“Thank you.”

You took the tool gently adjusting your welding helmet on your head before putting the guard down, getting lost in your music again as you worked.

“Come on, you never tell us.”

After what felt like a few seconds of silence Tony spoke up, “So what are you cooking for dinner chef.” You smiled to yourself letting out a breathy laugh. Bruce then followed up,

You laughed again, tapping your nose lightly. Both of the men in front and besides you huffed before carrying on conversation between them. You turned from your desk, slapping your thighs with your hands before announcing,

“Alright since you mentioned food, lunch run. What's everyone having?”

Tony thought for a moment before answering with a hint of playfulness to his voice,

“Surprise us, you normally do anyway.”

You nodded, smiling before making your way out of the lab, connecting your headphones back to your music. Your music was quite slow but that didn't stop you from pretending you were holding a microphone. When the elevator doors opened Wanda was standing on the other side. You stood for a moment admiring her, her eyebrows raising slightly,

“I was looking for you.”

Before you had a chance to ask why, she was pulling you by the shirt down the corridor.

“Wand-”

“Shut up.”

You did as you were told, letting Wanda drag you into her room. Your feet were moving faster than your brain, you were trying to work out what Wanda was rushing you into her room for. Was she okay? Did something happen? Wasn't she supposed to be getting ready to leave?

“Wanda what is going on?” she didn't answer you, simply bringing her fingers to your waistband, dragging your joggers down quickly alongside your panties.

Wanda was forcefully turning you around, pinning your wrists behind you to rest above your ass.

You let out a small gasp still trying to process what was happening.

“Wanda?”

Wanda pressed her hips onto your backside, pressing you to bend over the bed. Her hand came around the back of your neck, pushing your head down into the mattress.

“I need you to be a good girl, and take what I give you, I'm not going to be able to touch you for a week, I need to before I go.”

Your brain melted at her words, you nodded into the fabric under your cheek, arousal leaking from your pussy all of a sudden.

Wanda licked the tips of her fingers before swiping a slow line up your slit and you bit your lip hard trying not to moan out already.

Your brain was finally caught up with your body when you felt Wanda press her fingers hard against your clit. Your legs trembled slightly at the unexpected stimulation, your hips automatically grinding against her hips as she leaned over you. “What a good slut.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the comment, your hips bucking slightly. Wanda placed a few sloppy kisses behind your ear before leaning backwards, spreading your legs and pressing your back further pushing you into the bed. “Such a pretty pussy.” You loved when Wanda was more vocal, this was simply proving your point.

You whined out, needing more stimulation from her, and she understood as she pressed two fingers into your hot walls, your fingers tight and slimy around her digits. She audibly groaned at the way you clenched, thrusting harder into you. Your lip fell from your teeth and you let out a low moan, pushing your hips back onto Wanda's hand. Wanda's hand came up and down hard onto your ass, leaving a red mark immediately. You were surprised at your own reaction, an audible moan left your lips, and you heard your cunt squelch as arousal formed around Wanda's fingers. “Keep these hips still for me.” It didn't take long before you were trembling into the mattress legs shaking uncontrollably.

After a few moments of silence you felt one of Wanda's hands back on your spine.

“Wanda..” Before you could tell her you were closed she pulled her fingers from you. She ran her hand over your ass softly before announcing. “Wait here, and don't lift your head from the bed.” You nodded firmly, dropping your face into the mattress. You heard Wanda open a drawer, causing your thoughts to wander as to what she might be doing.

You let out a small gasp as you felt a hard silicon tip press against your core.

“Wanda..”

She stayed silent, pressing the toy into you slowly, letting you adjust to the new toy.

“Look at that.. god you you take my cock so we'll detka.”

“Such a good toy letting me use you whenever I want.”

You whined out at her words trying to keep your hips still. Wanda slowly slid the toy out, the new sensation of being full making your headspace beyond blurry. “More.. please.” She smiled behind you, thrusting the toy harder, “What a good girl asking so politely.” You nodded into the mattress, your mouth resting on your arm now as you tried to quieten yourself.

Your eyes rolled as your pussy stretched around Wanda's strap. The idea of Wanda being able to use you whenever she saw fit made your stomach flip.

“No.”

Her thrusts were fast and unrelenting. You were already embarrassingly close, Wanda then leaned forward, her cock pressing impossibly deep, and brought her hand back to your clit again rubbing generous circles. “If you want to cum ask.” You nodded furiously, clenching your jaw as you tried not to move your hips. It was only a few seconds until you spoke. “Can I cum please?”

That one word hit you like a truck, you were so close to the edge you didn't want to cum without Wanda's permission but if she didn't slow down you would. Your hips moved away from her strap out of reflex and Wanda brought a hand down to your ass again, before ramming her strap into you harder than before.

“Wanda please.”

Your beg was nothing short of a pornographic moan, your thighs trembling as you tried your hardest to stave off your orgasm. Wanda gave no response and you felt tears filling your eyes, you were so, so close.

“Make yourself cum on my cock darling.”

“Please. Please. Please.” You repeated the word countlessly, and Wanda simply stayed silent, leaning back to admire her cock sliding in and out of you. Without her fingers stimulating your clit you knew you wouldn't cum, a sense of relief filling you. Your moans became louder as the feeling in your gut intensified.

“God you're so pathetic, can't even please yourself properly.”

Her thrusts came to a hult and you whimpered, moving your hips back lazily as you tried to stimulate yourself. After minutes of failing miserably, Wanda finally gripped your hips thrusting back into you, her hand once again stimulating your clit.

Your head felt dizzy, like you were about to pass out from pleasure. The tightening feeling in your core built, and your whole body lit up with white hot pleasure.

“Mommy please!”

Your eyes widened, and Wanda's hips and hand stilled. If you could, you would take a gun to your head, and pull the trigger. You stayed still on the mattress, wanting the duvet to swallow you whole.

Wanda's fingers digged into your hips,“Say that again.”

“Again.”

You twitched your head slightly, before opening your mouth hesitantly. “Please, mommy.” After a split second of silence Wanda thrusted into you hard, “Fuck.” Her voice was low and gritty, her strap hitting deeper inside you,

Your words were punctuated by Wanda's thighs slapping against your skin.

Pleasure wrapped itself around you again, your moans throaty. “Mommy please feels so good fuck.”

“Cu~m for me.”

Wanda's command was broken as she reached her own orgasm, the combination of the strap rubbing against her perfectly and your words sent her straight over the edge.

Your whole body vibrated as you collapsed onto the bed, your legs giving out.

You both stayed in silence for a moment. Your breaths being the only noise filling the room.

You caught your breath as you stood slowly making your way to the bathroom.

“I'll clean it properly later.”

When you came out Wanda was standing by the drawers wiping down the strap,

Her voice was so calm, almost as if what happened didn't just happen.

“When did you get a strap?”

You were genuinely curious, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Wanda shrugged, “I just kept thinking about holding your hips and I knew I had to.. it was a bit spur of the moment, was that okay?”

You heaved as you ran your hand through your hair.

“More than okay.”

Wanda smiled gently before wrapping her arms around your waist, kissing your forehead softly.

“Sorry for taking you away from whatever it was you were doing.”

You let out a breathy laugh,

“No, by all means please do it again. I was only grabbing food anyway.”

Wanda spun you around walking you towards the door.

“Well back to work then you.” She smacked your ass playfully before walking in the opposite direction to you.

“Make mommy proud.”

It wasn't long before all of your clothes and essentials were packed, zipping your suitcase up tightly and putting it to the side of your room for later. You were in no rush to leave. You hadn't told Wanda anything about your parents dynamic, and you had no intentions of it either.

Your face flushed red as Wanda's voice dropped, you ignored the bubbling in your gut as you turned into the kitchen.

You made your way to the exit of the compound, preparing to say goodbye to the team. The exchanges were the same as usual, tight hugs from Steve and Bucky, motherly looks from Natasha.

"Don't blow the place up whilst we're gone, I want everything as it should be." Tony joked as he pointed at you playfully. You let out a chuff laugh before turning to Wanda giving her a warm smile and nod. Vision stood close to you, dropping his voice.

“Don't worry, we'll keep her safe.”

You nodded sincerely at him grateful for his reassurance you'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous for Wanda's first mission back. You took a deep breath stepping back from the jet. Your gut sank as you watched the plane take flight, moving further and further away from the compound.

You stood for a moment, before walking back into the compound dragging your feet behind you.

“Friday, play my lowdown mix.”

This week… was going to suck.

[spookyrea]

For Years to Come (maybe even more)

After revealing to Loki that you two are soulmates (in an admittedly less-than-ideal fashion), the two of you finally discuss your matching soulmarks.

Chapter 2 / 3 - read on AO3

A soulmate-identifying mark AU - heavy petting involved in this chapter (kinda *shrug emoji*) - epilogue will contain smut

(chapter one) -- (epilogue)

If Loki was going to avoid you, you decided that it was well within your rights to avoid him, too.

You spent the last week of December on Natasha's couch, pretending to help her knit by unwinding her skeins of yarn while watching whatever wintery drivel you could find on television. She never asked you what was wrong but you suspected that she already knew, between her super-spy attention to detail and the compromising position she had found the two of you in on Christmas Eve. There was a decidedly Loki-shaped hole in every conversation, a vacancy that she would open to you with a side-long glance. Thor and I are going to go look at the lights before they take them down, she might say. His brother will probably join, since they're attached at the hip.

You never took the bait, which she respected (if sometimes with a rolled eye). Inevitably, by virtue of there being twenty-odd people living in one designated tower, more people were folded into your menagerie of distraction, and you made it all the way to the new year without having to think about the letter burning a hole in your kitchen counter.

That wasn't to say that Loki's absence wasn't festering inside of you; you hadn't realized how large a role he played in your day-to-day until he was gone. You had been so hyper-aware of his presence every time he entered a room, and now you could only focus on the emptiness where Loki should have been. On the churning discomfort in your chest that one day he might finally enter the room and not come sauntering up to your side to try and vie for your attention. Occasionally, you would catch the low hum of his seidr in the buzz of a fluorescent light, or in the twinkling sound that preceded snowfall, and would yearn for the sweet kiss of magic against your cheek.

“You have to tell me what happened,” Wanda insisted, eventually. She laid beside you on your couch, her feet propped up at awkward angles to avoid smudging her still-wet nail polish. “Or else I’m calling Steve and then you’ll really be in for it.”

You weren't in the mood for one of his pep-talks, though, so you pulled your blanket down from your head and sighed. “Loki is my soulmate.”

That must not have been the answer she had been anticipating. You watched one foot slowly drop, then the other, and then Wanda was turning on the spot to look at you, her black-rimmed eyes blinking over at you. “You’re joking.”

“He kissed me.” It felt good to tell someone else. It made it all real, somehow. “We got into an argument because he likes me and I’m so awkward around him that I can’t look him in the eyes, and then he kissed me.”

“But you like him.”

“Yes.”

“You got in an argument because he likes you and you like him.”

“I wrote him a letter.” You scrubbed your hands over your face, trying to will the hysteria away. “It’s stupid. It’s so stupid. What a mess.”

“Was he any good?”

You laughed, watery, your eyelashes a little damp. “Yeah. Yeah, he was.”

“Okay.” There was a sincerity to her voice that was uniquely Wanda. As if she had approached the world upside-down and somehow come back with exactly the right thing to say. “Imagine if he was a bad kisser. Then he’d be nothing but a pretty face.”

“You can teach someone to be a good kisser.”

“He’s ancient. If he hasn’t learned how to kiss someone by now, it’s hopeless. And also – Loki. He would see it as a personal attack. He would kiss worse on purpose.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

The television droned in the background; two men were making intricate sugar cookies decorated to look like disco balls. They had an easy kind of camaraderie that spoke of years of work together. You watched in a companionable silence until an advertising break broke the spell. “So are you two… together now?”

“Um… no. No, I don’t think we’re going to be together.”

“You know he goes a little,” she spun a finger through the air, flashing red for extra effect, “when you’re around?”

“The seidr thing?”

“I was thinking about the ‘I'm-the-coolest-guy-in-the-room’ thing but sure, that too.”

You sighed. “Why couldn't you be my soulmate? I can talk to you.”

Wanda was a pragmatist at the end of the day. She was a little like Steve in that way -- fiercely empathetic in a practical way. “How does ‘talk to your soulmate’ sound as a resolution?”

“It sounds like a start.”

“Mine is to learn how to cross stitch.” There was a plan forming behind her eyes; she took you by the wrist and hauled the two of you off the couch before stomping off in search of her coat. “We need to go get you a new outfit.”

“We do?”

She nodded. “A dress. A pretty dress. A dress that says ’sorry I was so awkward but you’re really scary and hot and I’m only a puny mortal’.”

“You just want an excuse to go shopping.”

“I am a woman of many interests.”

You bit back a smile. Linking your fingers together, you gave her hand a long, strong squeeze and let her pick the first store on your agenda.

You were running a little late; there was a shoe malfunction, and a missing eyeliner pen, and before any of you realised it was almost ten o’clock. You took the train; in New Year’s Eve traffic, it was a tight fit – each car was full to bursting, humid and smelling of sweat and cologne – but you only had to make it three stops. You held onto the rail and Natasha, Carol and Wanda held on to you, giggling, sidled up close.

The bar Tony had rented was, mercifully, only a few feet from the subway entrance. The three of you picked your way through the snow while Natasha, ever the pinnacle of grace, somehow glided across the sidewalk in her five-inch heels.

The place was dingy in a homely kind of way. All exposed brick and wooden beams, the walls were covered in sports memorabilia and framed Playboy covers, and a net of twinkling lights was strung up along the ceiling. A low drone of chatter and jazz hung in the air, a nostalgic sound that reminded you not of winters passed, but of years from now when you would look back on this moment. Outside a snowstorm howled, blanketing the city streets in a navy haze, but for now you were warm and dry and a little lovesick.

Natasha kissed your cheek before slipping away to find Clint, who no doubt had already turned his hearing aids off and was nursing a beer in some secluded corner. Wanda clung to your elbow for support while she scanned the crowd, balanced on her tiptoes. “Do you see him?”

“No. Hey, wait–” You caught a loose bobby pin, hanging on by a thin curl, and smoothed her hair back in place. “Ok. Better. Have you found him?”

“Thanks.” She had that look in her eye, that fit-to-bursting expression she got when the whole extended family got together. It seemed the entire Avengers rota was in the room. “And yeah, there, with Thor and Steve.”

A long table – which you suspected was actually three or four pushed together, based on how haphazardly the chairs were scattered around it – sat slightly askew near the back of the bar. Your team had congregated at one end, grinning, a few clearly inebriated.

Loki was tucked away at the very opposite edge, rolling a glass between his hands. His perpetual rain cloud seemed to have given way to a veritable storm because a few of the lights overhead were sparking, glowing green around the edges. Some pretty creature hovered by his side, twirling her shiny blonde hair and batting her eyelashes. 

Her neck was exposed; her mark was a stark thing made up of sharp geometric lines, and you admired how bold she was to approach him knowing she wasn’t a match. She was leaning over the back of an empty chair, tracing a neatly manicured nail down its woodgrain. Her comment had Loki smiling, rolling his eyes good naturedly, preening a little under her attention. She tilted her head toward the dancefloor; though you couldn’t see her face, the question was obvious. 

“You look great,” Wanda whispered.

“Thanks. So do you.” 

You watched Loki consider her offer. He enjoyed company, of course; Loki was seldom alone, even if that meant hanging around crowds who weren’t very fond of him, or that he was fond of. Maybe it was survival, or loneliness, or some combination of the two, but Loki liked to be included in the joke, even at his detriment.

Yet his eyes scanned the crowd, seeking someone else’s attention. Everything felt right when they found yours.

You took your time rounding the table, lingering by Steve and Rhodey so you could watch Loki unwind to a petulant slouch. When you reached the end, Darcy leaned over to give you a kiss on the cheek, smearing her lipstick a little in the process, and pushed a drink into your hand. “Happy new year!”

It was a short distance but a long walk to the empty seat next to Loki. The closer you got, the more excited his seidr seemed to grow; it whispered sweet nothings in a language you couldn't understand, crowding up against your cheek like an affectionate cat. Ushered you close so it could kiss you so tenderly while Loki looked on with cool disinterest. He waved the girl away.

“You looked lonely,” you hummed. “All the way over here.”

“My ill mood was making our colleagues’ devices malfunction.” He tsked, taking a long pull from his glass. “I’m afraid you have the same effect. On my seidr, I mean.”

“You mean it doesn’t… play with other people?”

His expression was unreadable. “What was it you said? ‘You make me nervous because I’m attracted to you’?”

“The other you didn’t seem all that nervous. Ginger-Loki.”

“You do like him better, then.” It was meant to be a joke but the mirth didn’t quite reach Loki’s eyes; he watched you a little despondently, like a man who had spent his entire life just shy of perfection. 

“I told you before. I like this Loki.”

“He’s not very nice.”

Your right hand tiptoed across the table to lay over his wrist. Now was not the time to be shy. “I’m sorry about the letter.”

“I’ve been called worse in languages older than you.”

“Maybe so. I wasn’t done, though. It was supposed to say something like ‘You’re vile and–” Something about his expression made you pause; Loki’s gaze had gone far-off, fixated on the snow accumulating on the windows. “...It was supposed to be a love letter.”

He snorted. “Charming.”

“I’ve had a crush on you for forever. I could barely stand to look at you sometimes because I thought you would notice. I wanted to put everything down on paper but then I just… couldn’t.”

“So you attacked my character. Delightful.”

“Loki. Look at me.” It was his turn to avoid your eye, it seemed. You pressed on his cheek until he was looking levely into your eyes. “Have you been trying to hit on me?”

“‘Hit on’. No, I was not trying to ‘hit on’ you. I’m a prince. I was trying to woo you. Or at the very least, manufacture conversation.”

“How many times have you tried?”

“How many times have you run away, kitten?”

There was a great commotion across the bar. Steve called your name, hands planted on his hips. “Tell the kids they have a curfew.”

Peter, Ned and MJ began to complain all at once. They had commandeered one of the overhead TVs to play someone’s Nintendo Switch and were passing the controller back and forth to beat a boss. Morgan sat in Wanda’s lap, too young to understand the mechanics but eager enough to cheer on, and each of them wore a knitted cap that Natasha had made for them.

It came over you all at once. You were sure that Scott and Sam would join them in a few minutes to help beat the boss. That Clint would come by and take Morgan somewhere quieter when she started dozing off. That Bucky and Steve would pick people at random and swing them around to club music that didn't match the sock hop, just for the fun of it.

You had a soulmate but it didn’t really matter, at the end of the day. All the anxiety, the fear and loathing and stoicism -- none of it was necessary. You would pick these people no matter their marks, and they would pick you because love was an innate but fickle thing; there was no use trying to control it, only to appreciate it when it happened.

“Let them stay, Cap," you called back. "Until the crowds die down.”

Peter and Ned whooped. Steve smiled like he never intended to run them off, anyway.

Loki tugged on your shirt sleeve; how he loved to do that, to commandeer your attention. Like a dog not yet done playing fetch – look at me, he demanded. I’m starved of your affections already. His fingers threaded through yours.

“I’m not running away this time, I promise."

A single curl was snaking free from his short ponytail, falling across his forehead in a little crescent shape. He pushed it aside with your linked hands, like letting go was out of the question.

“Why are you here,” he blurted out. “If it’s pity, or some self-sacrificing sense of duty, then I would advise you to leave.”

You watched him watch you.

“I think… We’re finally on an even playing field. And I owe you another letter.”

“You could call me despicable this time. Egregiously egotistical.”

“I could call you ‘mine’.”

Loki’s seat was askew, not quite tucked under the table, and he turned sideways to face you, one arm dangling over the back. He finished his drink in one long pull, tilting his chin just high enough to strain the crisp collar of his shirt. “Do not pretend. I have to warn you, I’m well versed in wanting.”

It was perhaps the first time since you met Loki -- before even being hired, back when you were a street-level hero who got roped into conflicts too big to comprehend -- that neither one of you was trying to fill an awkward silence. Loki played with your hand, puppeting your fingers open and shut with the same meanness that one might pet a beloved cat, while you sipped on your drink. You found that you liked the silence; when neither one of you was anxiously prattling on, you seemed to get along quite nicely.

“What does, um… Ket– kettlina? What does it mean?”

His other hand threaded through the elastic in his hair and snapped it free, vanishing it elsewhere with a flick of his wrist. “Ketlinkr? It’s a diminutive.” He shrugged. “‘Little cat’.”

Magic hummed – maybe his, or maybe the inherent magic of love – in the air, kissing your cheek so sweetly. Loki, seeming to sense it, traced the spot with the tips of his fingers.

Every breath you drew was heavy. You wanted him to lean in so badly that it hurt, worse than a pang, worse than an ache - there was a pain inside your chest that you felt only his mouth could soothe. “Kitten.”

He smiled – shy, almost. “Yes, but affectionate. T’eta minn ketlinkr. My kitten.”

At some point, his hand had crept over the back of your chair. In the half-circle of his arms, it was as though every dream you had ever dreamt had secretly been about him. Like every moment of déja-vu, every time you heard someone call your name and found no one there, every inexplicable instance of strange magic in your mundane life - it all traced back to him, in that moment. “Ketlinkr,” you tested the word. “I never did agree to the nickname.”

He drew the pad of his thumb over the lipstick smudge on your cheek, blinking uninterestedly down where his thumb came away red. “T’eta hverr, ketlinkr. Minn minikla ketti.” 

“Why not, um… Ben…” 

“Bendr,” he hummed. “Would you like to be my mortal wound?”

He knocked at one of your chair legs, tottling you backwards, then forwards when you overcorrected. You collided inelegantly with his chest, giving him the perfect opening to slide his arm around your waist and ‘catch’ you before you tumbled out of his lap. The new proximity pressed his cheek to yours. “Terribly sorry, kitten,” he spoke against the shell of your ear. “You’ll have to excuse my manners. All the alcohol I guess. I don’t know my own strength.”

You clutched at his collar. “You did that on purpose.”

“You have no proof. It’s your word against mine and I am excellent on the stand.” He held you tightly, winding his other arm around your back like a snare. You felt his cheek tip up in a smirk against yours, your shared giddiness seeming to overwhelm.

“I thought you were going to be nice.”

“That was the red-head. This is your Loki. Loki-Loki. He’s vile. ”

“Good evening, New York!” Tony had clambered up on the stage and commandeered the microphone. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, so many buttons deep that you could just make out the lines of scar tissue around his arc reactor. “Just a reminder that you have two minutes until midnight. So if you haven't found your soulmate yet, you’d better pick the hottest person in this room and settle for second best. Or hope! You never know.”

The crowd cheered. Loki deposited you on your knees, precariously balanced on his lap. “Hottest person in the room?”

“You’re supposed to kiss someone at midnight. Something about ringing in the new year and good luck in love.”

“Oh. Well, good thing I’ve already snatched you up. It would have been a blood bath if I had to find you with a minute until midnight.”

You tipped your head back and laughed. “My blood, more like. You should see the looks people are throwing you.”

Indignation glanced off his eyes; his hand rode up the length of your back, the heel of his palm slotting just under your skull to cradle your head. “I would never let anyone hurt you.”

“It’s less about ‘letting’ and more about a dozen peoples’ personal journeys to find out what’s under your collar.”

The televisions mounted to the ceiling flickered; a thirty-second countdown began ticking down overhead. You tested your weight against Loki’s chest, curling your fingers around his shoulders.

“Well, if it’s tradition,” Loki started, his voice coy but eyes burning hot, “then who are we to deny?”

 “You’re right. Tradition to uphold. It would practically be illegal not to.”

“Exactly. And I’m a good guy now, right? A hero. I am bound by duty to respect the law to the letter.” He paused. “That sounds horribly boring. Forget I said that.”

The crowd started counting at fifteen - a few stragglers at first, snowballing until the entire room was chanting. It was infectious, so heady that you felt as though your chest was fit to burst any second; you turned your face down to meet Loki’s, hardly able to stop yourself from just leaning in and sealing your mouth to his. 

“I like it when you look at me,” Loki murmured.

You slid one hand over his cheek and traced the lines carved by his smile. “I like it when you look at me, too.”

Five, the room chanted. Loki tilted his head, his lips parting with an inaudible sigh. You moved your hand back down to his shoulder to steady yourself. Four, three– 

You didn’t make it to one; Loki closed the distance early. Time slowed to an endless stretch that consisted only of his thumb, tracing a long, slow line down your ribs; of the amorous sound of your breath catching in your chest; of the weight of his legs pressed against yours. Though it seemed impossible, he drew you even more securely against the solid wall of his chest, so that you had no choice but to unfurl, winding both of your arms behind his neck.

The room must have been alight with noise and celebration but when you pulled away, you were only aware of him. His heavy-lidded eyes tracked your lips with a liquid kind of want, something that seemed to spill from him with every shaky breath. 

He kissed you again.

“Why don’t you bring me back to your room,” he whispered, “and I’ll show you why they call me Silvertongue.”

You crammed yourselves in the backseat of a cab with the middle seat yawning a respectable distance between you. The driver greeted you with a grunt, his eyes resolutely fixed ahead; at just past midnight, you had a feeling he wasn’t in the mood to listen to drunken drivel or to sit through a peep show.

The streets were chaos; why you thought this would be easier, you couldn’t comprehend. Later, you would blame it on the dizziness, or the lovesickness.

You blinked out of your reverie when something brushed against your wrist. Loki’s hand had crossed the distance between you and lay, palm facing upwards, next to yours. He’d wiggled his index finger under your pinky.

With every block that you crossed, your giddiness was melting away to something else entirely, something hot and wanting. Something like honey, or maybe whiskey. At three-and-a-half blocks away from the tower, the two of you tumbled out of the car with a lacklustre happy new year, which the driver waved off. You paid him with too many bills, not willing to wait a second more.

The tower was deserted; even the lobby, which was usually lit up all hours of the day, was dark. The security guards had all left for the night, waved away by Tony with the insistence that FRIDAY could vet potential intruders while they enjoyed their evening. Your footsteps were painfully loud in the empty atrium.

Loki followed you up to your room like a spectre. By the time you got to your door, your hands were shaking so badly that you could hardly get your key into the lock, too distracted by the way Loki was mouthing at your jaw, breath hot and humid on your skin, his hands riding up your sides to tangle in the fabric of your dress.

“You have to stop for a second,” you gasped. “I can’t– I can’t think with you like this.”

His tongue traced a line over your pulse point. He turned you around and plucked the key from your hand before crowding you against the door, the open curve of his mouth a teasing pressure against yours. You heard the key grind against the little pins, then turn; Loki caught you at the last second when the door swung open underneath you, laughing, equal parts arrogant and aroused.

Loki leaned against the doorframe, his arms bracketing it on either side, and watched you back away. His head tilted; his eyes pulled you apart like a butcher pulled pork. You continued until the backs of your thighs met your couch, your bag and coat forgotten to the side in a sad heap. 

The deadbolt slid into place with a click. 

You beckoned him forward for a quick kiss. Hardly more than a peck.

“Oh, I think I deserve a little more than that.”

You hummed. “Careful, ben.. .”

“Bendr.” He reached up and toyed with your bottom lip, then leant down and licked where his thumb had been. “Your accent is infuriating.”

“I’m trying,” you gasped. One of his legs slotted between yours so he could lean his weight on the couch, effectively pinning you under him.

“Loki–” You were cut short by a sharp roll of his hips against yours. A truly evil grin shaded his handsome face before he tipped his head to kiss you again. You squirmed, turning your cheek; undeterred, Loki pressed his mouth to the highest point on your cheekbone. “Loki, really–”

“It’s fun. We’re just having fun, kitten.” He punctuated his sentence by working his hand over your body, palming one breast upwards with a turn of his wrist.

“Stop interrupting me.”

His mouth closed over your pulse point, dull teeth scraping over your skin with purpose. The hand not groping your chest slipped under your skirt, hiking it up so he could toy with the waistband of your underwear, drawing a featherlight path along the edge before occasionally sliding his thumb under, admiring the soft skin of your hip. Any coherent thought fizzled and stuttered until your mind was a blank well for him to pour his desire into. Don’t I make you feel good, he asked. Imagine what I can do with my hands. With my tongue.  

He cooed at you, licking a long, flat stripe up your neck. The hand around your hip slid even higher, slotting nicely under the jut of your ribcage. He pressed his face into the dip between your neck and shoulder and sighed, his chest filling then draining to a terrible, shaky emptiness. He pretended to smile. “Humour me. Use me.”

Using the hand in his hair, you twisted his head to the side and kissed him, pressing all the things you couldn’t say into his lips. How sorry you were for not speaking sooner. How you hoped there might be a future left to scrounge. "Have I ruined it?"

His mouth twisted to a funny line. You got the impression that he wanted to continue pretending, to slip into a caricature of himself where your words hadn't hurt him. Maybe it would be easier to act as if the two of you had organically fallen in love and not stumbled, face-first, into a strange, unconfident dance. But then -- Loki had made many mistakes in his lifetime. Had fought losing battles until the end of days in the name of spite, or pain. He couldn't fault you for a mistake he would have made ten-fold, had he been in the same scenario.

So he kissed your knuckles for the simple pleasure of kissing you.

“Loki." You would write him a hundred love letters after tonight. “Look at my neck.”

His hands drew away slowly, though the ghost of them lingered; his seidr smoothed up and down your sides, as if Loki was committing to memory the feel of you unconsciously.

He twisted the top button from its buttonhole, then followed the placket all the way to the top of your belly until your dress was limp and wide open. It slipped down your shoulders; you would have expected him to be ogling you, or to make some lecherous comment now that you were exposed to him, but his eyes stayed neutral, his hands shy where they traced your upper arms.

“I’m going to turn around now.” You disentangled your legs and twisted, drawing your feet up and over the back of the couch so you were seated on the back. 

He was silent for a while. “Have I developed your mortal hysteria? I must have conjured you up out of lust.”

“No, Loki. It’s just a… a cosmic prank, I guess.”

Silence yawned and stretched, a creature warmed from a long slumber. Eventually, Loki rounded the couch so he could kneel on the cushions between your knees. You wound him in by the collar of his shirt, fisting it until he was close enough to be kissed, whereafter he met you in steps – realization, that you were kissing him; elation, that he might get to kiss you; and desperation, to keep you there forever.

"What else could you call me?"

"Duva. Ljufi. Ah, ja, minn ljuflinkr."

"Ljufi?"

"Love." The stereo system under your tv picked up, crackling with static. The air grew thick with ozone and magic, which settled like humidity over the back of your neck and whispered nonsense. “Alright, my skittish kitten… What do you call me?”

“Hm... Love, maybe? Um, sweetheart? My soulmate?”

He nodded gravely, hands on either side of your face. “We have weeks to make up for. Again.”

You threaded your fingers through his belt loops, urging him to lean his weight on you. He followed gingerly, drawn by your voice like a dog on a lead. “Soulmate. My soulmate.”

He couldn’t ask you a third time. He was too busy committing to memory the curve of your mouth against his.

The picture was uploaded to Twitter on January 1st at 3:47 AM – It was terrible quality, taken in a dimly-lit bar only a minute after midnight. You and Loki were perfectly framed in a sea of lovers, so wrapped up in the other that you weren’t aware of the flash. Darcy’s lipstick was still smeared on your cheek; few stray curls hung in a curtain in front of Loki’s eyes; and his right hand was balled up in the fabric of your dress, the tension just right, so that the top few dots of your soulmark peeked out.

You were both beaming. 

[honey-minded-hivemind]

In the sequel to the Dark AU (Villain Reader AU, a.k.a. The Hivemind AU), Reader comes to back at the time they were orphaned... and they run.

(Note: This is dark!!! The end contains mentions/alludes to a suicide attempt, Reader is manipulated/groomed (non-sexually) by their villain boss, and Reader blames themself for what happened in the Dark AU! You have been warned!!!)

All they have are the clothes on their back, and clutched in their hands the artifact that sent them back. They don't know what to do, where to go, who to turn to.

They can't join the X-Men, or the Brotherhood, or meet any of them. Reader believes all of this was their fault, and since it was their idea to join the teams together, they think it was their fault the bad things of the past timeline happened because of their interference. So maybe... maybe this time, if Reader just disappears, the others won't get hurt, or end up going mad from grief...

A few weeks in to being homeless, Reader gains new mutations, different from their past life? timeline?, instead of being able to turn into animals or have the others' abilities, they have claw-like stingers, full of an odd, green venom, as well as another ability they find out by accident- mind control.

They hadn't meant to, but someone was trying to hurt them, trying to kill them, and their claws? stingers? dug in, and then- then that person went still, and Reader could hear their thoughts, feel their emotions, and the person went blank amd still and was off them and-

And it was the worst experience they'd felt with these new powers. They didn't want some mind controlled slave or loyal shell of a person. They didn't want to hurt anyone, or break anything, or ruin anything else!

Yet... a strange person shows up, calls their powers a gift, asks if Reader would like like work for her... and they say yes. What else can they do? What other choice do they have? They need help, food, safety, and they have nowhere else to go...

This woman, as it turns out, is quite charismatic. A show-off, loud, dresses to impress, and always with sharp nails and sharper eyes... She's dangerous, using people like pawns, ruining lives at the drop of a hat, playing with the world like its a game... And Reader? They hate her for it. This person is awful, sweet as sugar one minute, spitting venom the next, a viper in disguise... Reader knows what she wants, a loyal pawn, so they play the part...

It only gets worse over time.

This woman calls herself, as a villain, Queen, and she wants to rule everything. Every person, every mind, every thought, she wants it, and she uses Reader's venom to get it. All it takes is one injection, one word, and then there's another loyal drone, ready to do as their Queen commands. And Reader? They're through with her.

Setting her up to fail took time, months of planning, endless nights awake, days spent in fear... but they managed to get her caught, by the same people they uses to love, to want to only make happy...

It doesn't give them much else to do, besides hide the artifact and try to find a way to set free those who fell under their control. They're paranoid, skittish, afraid of touches and yelling and anyone bigger than them- but now they're on their own...

And it hurts...

It hurts so bad...

And it's during a bad, bad time when one of their old friends from the past finds them... and all Reader can do is cry, as they're being talked down from ending it all...

@sugar-soda @thewickedweiner @ainsellshadewalker

[lemon-russ]

Im so sorry if this comes off as demanding requesting or something but ive got Leman on the brain and it's AGH

i feel like that man would be almost suffocatingly warm. Like 'coming inside from being out in the snow and he's literally steaming' kind of warm

Man's would curl up around you like a dog if you shiver even a LITTLE around him. "Oh there's a meeting? Professionalism be damned my partner's cold and I'm putting them on my lap, deal with it"

You're fine!! Super cute Idea thank you!

Short Leman Russ x Gn!Reader :))

Leman stood over the table of maps, holo projections and battle plans as his brother Guilliman walked him through strategies.

“I feel like if we have you come in from this front, we can have my men come in here…” Guilliman droned on as he demonstrated on the maps.

A few Ultramarines mixed with Space Wolves around the room, looking stiff as always to Leman.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention away from the maps, and he turned to see you coming in, snow flakes still sticking to the fluffier parts of your hair and melting on your face into little droplets.

You kicked snow off your boots, and reluctantly started to unwrap your snow-wet scarf, cheeks pink and nose red. You looked up at Leman with a small smile, shivering slightly.

“The snow really is picking up out there-” you started to say, but were interrupted by Leman making a displeased sound and crossing the room to you in a couple long strides.

Guilliman paused and watched, a frown of annoyance growing as Leman picked you up under the arms. You squeaked, but were quickly tucked up to his chest. He swiftly pulled off the rest of your damp outer layers, and re-wrapped his furs so you were wrapped in them, sandwiched between the pelts and his warm, dry tunic.

“Is the interruption necessary, brother?” Guilliman asked tiredly.

Leman huffed, cradling you in one arm under his furs, only your eyes and nose peaking out, and bringing you with him back to the war table.

“Baselines get sick when they're cold.” he said dismissively.

Guilliman sighed at his unprofessionalism, but Leman simply wrapped his other arm around you to warm you faster.

[molsno]

if your political stance is that people changing their bodies to be more attractive is wrong because it's "unnatural", you're wrong on all accounts. people have been modifying their appearances to be more attractive, including physically and permanently altering their bodies, since before the dawn of homo sapiens as a species.

the problem is not that women are choosing to undergo cosmetic procedures to better meet the beauty standards of the present day, and if you think that women (especially trans women) simply choosing not to do these things would accomplish anything, you're sorely mistaken.

the problem is that men hold institutional power in society, and they can use that power to punish women who don't conform. yes, this power they hold undoubtedly influences the decisions of women who undergo these cosmetic procedures, but those women are not all mindless drones bowing to the patriarchy because they don't know any better or they haven't liberated themselves. yes, some of them hold internalized misogyny and willingly uphold these standards, but most of the women who choose to modify their bodies understand that refusing to do so will materially harm them. they're making informed decisions to improve their well-being as much as they can under the conditions of the society they live in.

frankly, I find the idea that most women aren't intelligent enough to realize that they're "complicit in their own oppression" appalling and horrifically misogynistic. you can criticize "choice feminism" all you want, and there are very good reasons for doing so, but placing doubt on women's intelligence and agency, thereby blaming them for their own oppression, is not progressive. it has long been a radical feminist tactic, in fact. if that's who you want to align yourself with, then frankly I don't think you have anything interesting, insightful, or even true to say about feminism.

if, however, your problem is that women are being pressured into cosmetic procedures that they will be punished for not adhering to, then your goal must be to abolish the power structures that allow women to face these punishments in the first place. your targets should be the institutions of wage labor, private property, colonialism, police, the medical industry, organized religion, state marriage, and all of the other institutions that uphold the global system of capitalist exploitation. only when women can no longer be deprived of our individual human rights for failing to conform to the misogynistic expectations placed upon us will we truly be free to make decisions about our own bodies.

[david-talks-sw]

"Bring in the flamethrowers!"

The above moment from The Clone Wars gets brought up a lot to illustrate Ki-Adi Mundi or the Jedi's moral decadence, a fall from grace caused by the war.

Figured I'd point out a couple of things in support of Ki-Adi!

1) Simple answer: the situation called for it.

The Geonosians attacking Ki-Adi were:

enemy fighters

with the element of surprise

who could fly and were thus harder to hit with the clones' blasters, hence why more wide-ranging weapons like flamethrowers were called for, as the clones were getting picked off one-by-one.

Time was of the essence, men were dying, Ki-Adi made a choice.

Wanna know what Jedi choose when a Geonosian isn't actively trying to kill them? They save its life (and get praised for it by their peers).

2) In-universe, the Geonosians are assholes.

From Attack of the Clones - The Illustrated Companion, 2002:

"Geonosians are a physically intimidating race conditioned to live and work in caste-segregated hives. The vast majority of Geonosians are subservient to the ruling caste, and throughout Geonosian society, there is evidence of a biologically engineered class system. Some Geonosians have wings, while drones do not. [...] The blind obedience of menial Geonosians makes them an easily exploitable workforce for the upper classes, who have built a highly profitable business manufacturing Battle Droids, Super Battle Droids, and Droideka Droids for the Trade Federation and its allies."

"For unusually intelligent Geonosians unlucky enough to be born into the lower castes, participating in the games provides the only chance they will ever get to escape the misery of their downtrodden lifestyles and the rigid social expectations of the upper classes. Triumph in the arena is often a hollow victory, however; while lower- and middle-class Geonosians may win the right to talk to their superiors, they can never earn their respect."

Okay, so the winged upper class are obviously elitist bastards, but how is that even remotely relevant--

-- oh. But hey, two of them don't have wings! Those are members of the drone caste, and they're all begotten underdogs, so--

"If there is one thing that unites Geonosians of all classes, it is their xenophobia. A traditionally isolationist species, they fear espionage attempts by rivals eager to learn the secrets behind their latest droids."

-- oh. Huh.

Bottom line: yes, they're sentient... but they're xenophobic, have an elitist caste system, and earn their living by forging weapons that melt your insides or blow up planets.

Now sure, this notion has been explored and deconstructed in Star Wars: Rebels...

... and I'm not entirely sure if the quoted info still holds true in current Disney canon (the lore is from 2002, after all), but if you ask me?

On a normal day, ol' Klik-Klak would be actively trying to murder the entirety of the Ghost crew for daring to even step their dirty non-Geonosian feet on his pure red planet.

3) Out-of-universe, the Geonosians are just "bug aliens". Nothing more.

The production team of Attack of the Clones referred to them as the "termite people". The script describes them as "winged creatures" who are heard "chuckling" once Anakin and Padmé are sentenced to a gruesome death. At some point, the storyboard artists considered introducing the Geonosian workers like you would a horror monster.

Hell, the whole Lucas decided to base them on termites is because his house was besieged by them.

They're not people, which is why they're not designed to look like people. They're purposefully dehumanized so that when one of them gets killed by our heroes, it's ethically "okay" and the audience doesn't need to stop and think "oh my God, that's murder!" or "hey! that's racist" whenever a clone calls one of them a "bug."

A similar logic is applied to the stormtroopers, who have face-covering helmets that dehumanizes them.

Functionally, a stormtrooper is a fascist goon, nothing more.

Same goes for the Geonosian. It's a bug alien, that's about it.

4) The flamethrowers were probably just added because they're cool.

Dave Filoni described how the decision to add flamethrowers came up, and it doesn't sound like George had deeper storytelling motives:

"You know, we're going through the tunnel with the Geonosians and George is like: “Yeah, well, here, we'll have the-- the tunnel and the flamethrowers. Yeah. How about that? ‘Bring in the flamethrowers!’ have Ki-Adi Mundi say ‘bring in the flame throwers!’” And it's like “flame—- What? Flamethrowers?!”" - Dave Filoni, “Return to Geonosis” Featurette, 2010

It sounds like he came up with it on the spot.

The flamethrowers aren't indicative of "the moral degradation of Ki-Adi and the Jedi Order." They're likely just in there 'cause they're cool (and if you've played Team Fortress 2, you know that's true)!

At the end of the day, when it comes to the Geonosians, I think that there's a certain irony to how their story ends.

They gleefully created the battle droids that tore the galaxy asunder and the Death Star, a weapon that enables the Empire to commit genocide... but fell victim to genocide themselves, at the hands of an even bigger monster.

They reaped what they sowed. They're not meant to be mourned.

And it's nice to see this aspect of the narrative doesn't get ignored as much as I would've expected.

I came across this video that basically rips into Ki-Adi for using flamethrowers, and I was ready to roll my eyes when I scrolled down to the comments section...

... but then, a happy surprise!

Most of the comments disagree with the video's stance! For once, logic prevails over anti-Jedi bias.

So yeah, that put a smile on my face.

[theender36]

I got some thoughts on Sonic 3 that I wanna talk about so

⚠️ Spoilers for the movie Sonic the Hedgehog 3 (2024) ⚠️

Love that the riff from Live and Learn is used as a leitmotif for Shadow but also Maria was playing it on her guitar which is sad and now I'm picturing Shadow playing that riff in his head all the time

Right before Shadow busts out of containment his heart monitor starts going and then stops which I'm interpreting as his heart beating so fast it doesn't register

They didn't outright say it but Gerald is the one who hacked into GUN to revive Shadow. I don't think they addressed how he got out of prison but he probably built something in his cell

I love the running gag that Ozzie the golden retriever resents Sonic

Loved the joke about Sonic's security system (nunchucks) still working (hit himself in the face again)

Shadow has always been a foil for Sonic but the movie fully realizes the potential of that dynamic in my opinion. They both have a loneliness deep inside from losing someone they loved but Sonic was able to move on and find more family. Shadow hasn't had that chance yet

They used the "Talk about low budget flights" line!

The credits said they used the City Escape music but I must have missed it

Wild that they gave Shadow a gun and a motorcycle again and made it work this time. It probably has something to do with him doing the Akira slide up the side of a building

The CG animation really shines in this movie. I kept looking at how good the reflections in their eyes were. And the fight scenes just had so much slick movement and speed while also properly conveying what was actually happening

When the egg-drones show up, you assume they're going after Team Sonic. But Gerald is controlling the drones so they were definitely gunning for Walters

A Traveling Wilburys song during the flashback was a surprise to be sure but a welcome one. However, I will nitpick the fact that the song End of the Line came out in 1988, which would have been 14 years after Shadow was locked away

Biolizard cameo as the kaiju in the movie Maria and Shadow are watching

Eggman says something about having some unknown quality that makes him "totally undesirable to all possible genders" which suggests to me that he has tried dating loads of people with various gender identities (Woah, he's pansexual! I didn't know that!)

You may ask why the plot treats G.U.N. keeping the other key to the Eclipse Cannon like it's a bad thing. For one thing, the Robotniks are gonna try to steal it, and for another, I don't think a secretive yet fallible military organization having access to a doomsday weapon is a good thing

The concept of G.U.N. keeping a vault that has no records of it so that people can't visualize it to use Warp Rings is very cool and almost SCP-esque

Big fan of Shadow's solution to a telenovela love triangle being for the woman to just kill the two men vying for her affections

Love the subversion of a fight between Sonic and Knuckles with Knuckles instead relenting because he trusts that Sonic will do the right thing in the end

That being said, Knuckles desperately needs a flying island to keep the Master Emerald safe because Wade just ain't gonna cut it

There are a small handful of moments where I think Jim Carey did a really good job of dramatic acting. In particular, the final flashback to Maria's death where he manages to really show the loss and heartbreak Gerald experiences despite wearing a goofy prosthetic

Gerald turning ice-cold to Eggman when he says "You're no Maria"

So glad they did a DragonBall-style Super fight between Sonic and Shadow. If you're gonna make a movie with a bunch of CGI, you might as well go a little nuts with it

You may ask "how are Sonic and Shadow breathing in space?" The same way they do in the games babeeeyyyyy

Shadow and Gerald really wanted to kill the whole world and themselves. And once the Cannon was charged, Shadow didn't care anymore. He was totally willing to let Sonic punch a hole in his chest

Of course, Sonic comes to his senses and is willing to talk with Shadow after sparing him. I love that what changed Shadow's mind was remembering what Maria told him about the stars. That even when they're gone, their light still shines

They literally Lived and Learnt

I wish the Live and Learn sequence wasn't interrupted by Gerald giving Eggman an over-the-knee grandpappy spanking but what can you do

I'm glad that Tails and Knuckles weren't just sidelined for the third act. They show up to save Eggman, help redirect the Cannon, and then save Sonic. Would have been really awkward if they made such a big deal about teamwork only for Sonic to wrap up the conflict on his own

Tails is really chill about Eggman stabbing his grandpa in the butt and launching him into a giant bug zapper

Eggman comes to terms with his own loneliness and is willing to sacrifice himself to save the world not just because he wants to rule it but because he has someone to care about

Missed opportunity for a "Sayonara, Shadow the Hedgehog"

I know it's still a family friendly movie but it's odd that Tom got kicked by an enraged hedgehog moving at the speed of light and all he got was an arm in a sling

The mid-credits scene got me hyped. I can't wait to see who they have voicing Amy. And I like the decision to have an army of Metal Sonics

I hope the next movie explores more about where the animal characters come from because we really don't know much. I'm guessing whoever is behind the Metal Army is from there

Post-credits scene, of course Shadow lived but I'm hyped to see what direction they take that in. Are they gonna do the amnesia thing or will he just be stranded somewhere?

I know that using Chaos Control requires an emerald and the movies established that the Chaos Emeralds are held within the Master Emerald but it sucks they never said it except for in the Shadow Generations DLC. So uh 0/5, do better

[rakurairagnarok]

Hi there! I'm heading to the U.A.E. from America in a few days and I'm quite anxious. I was wondering if there was any clothing at Rakurai Inc which would help me fit in better with the locals and boost my confidence and assertiveness?

Glad you got in touch! We have exactly what you have been looking for!!

You found a package when you got home from work. It was a completely blank box except for a small sticker reading Rakurai Inc.

You open it up to find a slick looking headset in it, with some arabic inscriptions on it. You look around the box, but can't find anything on how it works. It doesn't seem to have a jack in it nor any way for you to connect it to your phone with bluetooth so you decide to put it on.

Immediately it starts to play a tape.

"Learning module activated. Scanning for necessary courses"

Suddenly a weird humming begins to drone in your ears. Along with it certain arabic sounding phrases started playing in your head. The first few times you couldn't understand any of it, but suddenly you understood most of it.

"Big, strong, fertile"

Images of big strong arabic men appear in your head. You stumble a bit as your sense of balance was thrown off. You look down and see the legs of your pants have gone up your legs. You watch it with facination as the headset continues.

"Large, Leader, Rich"

Your head begins to spin again and you can barely get yourself on the couch.

You look down to see your pants tight on your legs, almost painted on. You see your bulge growing in your pants, and with it waves of pleasure start spreading through your body.

The tape speeds up, a larger variety of phrases being pushed into your brain, while your mind fogs over due to the pleasure.

"Plump, handsome, regal"

"In charge, charismatic, addictive"

"Cultured, gorgeous, playfull"

Your body keeps growing. Bisceps exploding through the fabric of your shirt, while your pecs are involuntarily bouncing. Your waist snaps, slimming down while your abs flex and push to the surface. Your back widens, shoulders rounding out. Your growing cock starts leaking, before bursting free from the confines of your pants. Your moans echo through your appartment, a previously unknown amount of pleasure radiating through your body.

Your hands explore your growing body.

"Wanted, desired, needed"

"Hungry, hungry, hungry"

You are hungry. A primal hunger that you couldn't satiate here. You need ... you want to be...

"Topped, fucked, bred"

Yes... your mind racing, you want cock, you need it, but you are in charge.

Your ass growing, you feel your hole pucker. It tenses, and releases. You know. You don't get fucked. You fuck. You aren't just a bottom. You drain your partners. They aren't penetrating you, you allow them to enter you, for them to experience the best moment of their lives.

"In charge, draining, dominant"

A grin appears on your face, a face that has been perfected due to your new toy. Sharp jaw, perfectly trimmed beard. Plump lips to get their tool ready.

You make them desperate for more. You got loads of different "tops" on speed dial. They say they're a top, but they are actually too afraid to take it, but you're much better.

You take of your headphones and look around your room. It's a penthouse in one of the most expensive buildings in the U.A.E. which had been gifted to you by one of your clients. You look at your phone and see a few notifications telling you of the massive amount of money you have made from your previous night out.

You smile, life is good.

I hope you enjoyed our trial edition language learning headphones!!! As seen in the picture they are state of the art and can be modified to fit any needs. Be aware some side effects may occur, cultural switch, sluttyness, or iq loss are some of the most common. Please continue your patronage with Rakurai Inc.

[sai-int]

Panther | Fault Lines

[PREV] | [NEXT]

MASTERLIST AO3

cw: strong language, depictions of violence, 2k words

7.23.22 - 0923

The hum of the engines droned in my ears as I sank deeper into the uncomfortable seat, staring out into the sky. Stars and faint city lights blinked in and out of sight as the plane glided through thin clouds, but nothing out there held my attention for long. I kept trying to let the white noise calm me, but something clawed at me from the inside, sharp and restless.

This mission had too many unknowns. They'd given me barely anything before sending me up here, but whatever was waiting in D.C. felt like it came with strings attached. I shifted, cracking my knuckles to give my hands something to do other than pick at the skin on my fingers. The quiet had my mind wandering into places I'd spent years avoiding like the plague.

I took a shaky breath, but that only made the memories edge closer. Shadows of a different night fell over my vision: a dark hallway, a closed door at the bottom of the stairs. I could hear his voice, booming and vicious, rattling through the floorboards as I crept closer, Mr. Blankey in my clutches. I was a kid then, smaller, terrified, but moving toward it anyway, barely breathing. The steps groaned under my feet, but I kept going, pulse racing. I could still feel the way my heart had pounded back then, every beat reminding me I was just a kid who shouldn't be there.

My chest tightened. I gripped the armrests, forcing myself to swallow down the memory, forcing myself to stay here, in the present. Not now, but the feeling lingered, like some shadow I couldn't shake.

The engines hummed louder, steady, keeping me grounded, at least for now. But with every mile that brought me closer to D.C., I felt the weight of something else growing, something that had stayed with me all these years, buried deep. This new assignment wasn't just another order. It wasn't routine. And I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was coming, I was running straight into it, alone.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, closed my eyes, and tried to will the memories away, at least for now. 

Focus, I told myself. Get your fuckin' shit together, Bea. You've fought wars 'n carried wounded soldiers through minefields. 

The darkness would have to wait.

...

The wheels hit the tarmac with a thud that seemed to echo in my bones, rattling loose the last pieces of sleep I'd managed to catch during the flight. The plane rolled to a halt, and I watched the gray, washed-out landscape of D.C. in the early morning light. The city lay ahead, sharp and distant, an expanse of concrete and stone framed by the hint of dawn just beginning to edge over the horizon. Everything felt cool and clinical—the exact opposite of where I'd come from, of what I knew.

I grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment, feeling the weight of it shift awkwardly as I slung it over my shoulder. I stepped down the narrow aisle, my boots echoing softly on the metal, the sound carrying in the quiet emptiness of the plane. The flight crew nodded as I passed, but I kept my gaze forward, focusing on the strip of light spilling in from the doorway. Stepping out, I was greeted by the damp warmth of D.C.'s humid air clinging to my skin, heavy and unyielding, so different from the dry heat back home.

At the foot of the metal stairs, two men in crisp black suits stood waiting, arms crossed, expressions obscured by dark sunglasses that seemed more for show than necessity given the somber morning sun. Their gazes felt like they were peeling me apart, sizing me up, even if I couldn't see their eyes. I forced myself to look past them, as if I were unaffected, and continued down the stairs.

One of the men inclined his head. "They're ready for you at headquarters. Car's this way."I nodded, sparing him only a glance, and followed him toward a sleek, black Subrurban idling on the runway's edge.

The driver opened the back door, and I slid in, the blast of cold air conditioning making goosebumps erupt on my skin. I stole a quick glance around the interior—leather seats, tinted windows, faint scent of new car and disinfectant. No distractions. No personal touches. Just business.

As we pulled away, the hum of the engine filled the silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the radio on the dash. I pressed back against the seat, my eyes fixed on the road ahead as we left the empty airstrip and merged onto the narrow road leading out of the private terminal. I knew where we were headed, but that didn't stop the questions from clawing at me, each one louder than the last. Why me? Why now? And for what?

I exhaled, trying to steady my pulse. For a brief moment, the distant trees lining the road blurred in my vision, and suddenly I was back in Georgia, in that cramped hallway with the smell of spilled beer and stale cigarettes, with the light overhead casting everything in a dull, sickly yellow. I could almost hear the shouts, the crash of glass—the sound of fists against flesh. My own hands tightened involuntarily, my fingernails would've left bloody crescents in my palms if I hadn't already peeled them to the skin. I forced my mind back to the present, locking the memory away, but the familiar burn of anger lingered.

The Suburban took slow, deliberate turns, leading us away from the city, and I felt myself refocus, letting the greenery of D.C. wash over me. Langley, McLean, the reflective green sign read, and seemingly the only one for miles. Guess that's where we're going. The roads were empty and seeming exclusive. We pulled onto several side roads, the air thick with anticipation as the CIA's main HQ eventually came into view—a looming fortress of glass and steel, clinical and unyielding.

The car slowed to a stop and I stepped out. Here, everything was clean and precise—just lines, steel, stone. The polar opposite of home. But somewhere within these walls was a purpose, one that I had been brought here to fulfill.

The door behind me slammed shut with a decisive click, snapping me back to the present.

I followed the suited man across the paved walkway, my boots echoing against the polished concrete, each step bringing me closer to the building's massive glass doors. As they slid open, I was hit with a wave of icy air, a stark contrast to the muggy morning outside. Inside, the walls were lined with brushed metal and sharp angles, every surface pristine, like they hadn't seen a speck of dust in years.

My guide led me through the lobby and down a series of identical corridors, each turn making it feel as though we were moving deeper into the belly of some steel giant. Occasionally, someone would pass us in the hallway, all nodding as they hurried by, eyes sliding over me with a mix of curiosity and disregard. They couldn't be phased by my scarred face or my seemingly permanent 11's. They had places to be, missions to plan, orders to execute. I was just another face in the maze. The complete opposite of Hunter.

Finally, we reached an unmarked door, the corresponding windows blacked out. My guide gave me a brief nod before opening the door and stepping aside, revealing a small, discrete conference room. 

Shepherd, the man himself, sat at the head of a long, polished table, his shoulders set and his gaze focused, as if he were already sizing me up and trying to decipher what this meeting would mean for everyone involved. His pristine green suit matched the environment, various medals and pins signifying his commitment to the country. A General. 4-Star, at that. 

Kate Laswell was sat beside him, her sharp, yet kind eyes flicking to me the moment I entered, assessing me like she could figure out every thought under behind my eyes if she looked long enough. Her conservative, yet practical clothing signified that she didn't spend much time at her desk.

And then there was John Price, sat the opposite side of Shepherd and Laswell, forming the perfect triangle. His expression was indifferent, his eyes shadowed as they followed me across the room. A plain tee and jeans from what I could see. His beard definitely wasn't in regs, most likely because he didn't have regs he needed to follow. 

"Take a seat," Price turned toward me, his voice now slightly more welcoming, yet maintaining that undertone of command that left no room for argument. He's a Brit. Always hated those posh motherfuckers.

I slid into a chair across from them all, my back to the door as I set my hands on the table to keep them steady. I could feel a faint pulse of tension thrumming under my skin. General Shepherd cleared his throat, glancing between Price and Laswell as if to confirm they were all on the same page.

"Beatrice Dawson," Shepherd began. Southern, I noted. "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here."

"Sure am, Sir." I nodded and kept my gaze steady, waiting for the explanation.

Price leaned forward, resting his hands on the table as he spoke, his tone quieter, more measured. "We want to pull you in for a specialized task force," he said. "This team asks for a specific skillset. Focus, precision... My team. You're here because of what you bring to the table."

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in, but part of me remained cautious, guarded. My eyes flickered to Shepherd and Laswell, before returning to Price. " 'N the mission?"

Laswell's gaze sharpened as she spoke up, keeping her response measured. "We're in the early stages of an operation targeting a dangerous tyrant. Intel suggests that he's contributed and led terror acts across the globe. He's a... long-standing adversary that has resurfaced, and he's gathering power quickly. We want to hit him before he can gain more ground than he already has."

She paused, letting that sink in, and I could feel the implication hovering there. This wasn't some small, surgical operation; it was a full-scale assault on a highly connected man that wouldn't go down easily. I took a deep breath as I processed her words.

Price's blue eyes locked with mine and he chimed in. "This isn't a typical mission. It's going to require cooperation, absolute focus, and trust. You'll be working alongside men with extensive field experience. I can assure you, they're the best at what they do, and I expect you to operate alongside them and at that standard."

The words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken challenge and tension. I met his gaze, feeling a surge of determination rise in my chest. I couldn't help but catch the way he emphasized working as a team. I groaned internally, but the soldier that has been forged was rising to the occasion, nonetheless.

Shepherd leaned forward, his gaze steely and his arms crossed. "We aren't here to coddle you or hold your hand. You were selected because we trust you can operate at this level. But let me be perfectly clear: you do not jeopardize this mission. Not for anything. You follow orders, execute without question, and complete the objective. Are we understood?"

"Understood, Sir," I said, my voice steady.

Laswell's eyes softened just a fraction. My gaze flickered back to her as she spoke again. "Good. You'll have a chance to meet the team soon. For now, get settled, and be ready. You leave for Europe in less than twenty-four hours. Until then, you'll be set up in a secure hotel not far from where you landed. You are not to leave your room. Expect to be contacted tomorrow afternoon. Any questions you have will be answered on the plane."

Price gave me a final nod, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Dismissed."

I rose and gave them all a silent nod, feeling the weight of their expectations settle over me, the gravity of the task ahead pressing down as I stepped out of the room. The door closed behind me with a quiet click, and I was back in the silent hallway, alone with my thoughts. 

This wasn't just another assignment. It was a step into something bigger. The stakes had just been raised.

[yanderelmk]

It's my birthday today 😊🎂

How do various yanderes celebrate their darling's birthday?

~💜💫

Oh my gosh happy birthday!! :D For the sake of not running out of space Imma group this together: ☀️MONKEY MEN🌑: They tried to make you a birthday cake...thing is neither of them know how to bake. They had to set their bitterness aside (or- well, they tried to) and the result was Wukong trying to distract you while Macaque scrambled around trying to find you something, even sending out his clones so he could sweep multiple stores at once (while pocketing a few shiny things for himself b/c mfer is a magpie). 🚦TRAFFIC LIGHT TRIO🚦: Mei got you a gift weeks in advance, she stays on top of birthdays. Same for Red Son! MK however didn't remember until the night before because ADHD is a bitch, but he likely ended up drawing a bunch of pictures of you, him, Red Son, and Mei. Mei also has a cake ready b/c she's The Best Ever. The trio's general vibe is just "BFFs 5ever because it's longer than 4" and everyone they care about is given the same treatment. 📖FREE NOODLES🍜: Pigsy is gonna be cookin' up a whole-ass STORM!! All of your favorite foods will be made, and breakfast is definitely served in bed. Dinner's gonna be a whole feast with the cake made extra special. Tang's the type of guy that follows "It's your birthday, so whatever you say goes!" He'll be fully open to trying out something new, and his gift is going to relate to a really niche subject that he knows you absolutely adore. It's likely he's done research to make sure he got the gift just right! 🕷️SPIDER DEMONS🕸️: These four are so wild it's funny. Spider Queen probably used her silk to make you a really fancy outfit, Syntax (who had your birthday set up as a reminder on his phone) probably is gonna give you some kind of drone that can help you out with mundane stuff (you get to name it). Goliath tried to make something, but whatever it is it's gonna be messy...he did his best. Huntsman? Deadass he probably went to go hunt your favorite animal so he could stuff it. If your favorite animal isn't in the area or it's a fictional one catch this extra-ass motherfucker carving a big-ass statue of it.

They had these gifts prepared. They knew your birthday was coming. They still all forgot until the actual day/the night before, for various reasons. Hey, at least the gifts are well-made. ☠️BONE DUO👻: Both the Lady Bone Demon and the Mayor are going to appear on your doorstep at midnight. They have a full day planned with ways to celebrate your birthday and 'no' is not an option. You will be spoiled!! The Mayor's got enough money to take you out in style, probably in his limo to fancy restaurants, most likely one of those rotating ones. The gifts will be exactly what you need, even if you didn't know you needed it yet. Even if it seems odd at first, best to just go along with it. 🪷CELESTIAL SQUAD🌙: Chang'e has a gigantic cake prepared, most likely one layer for each year of your life. She's been working on this for forever!! Nezha helped her prepare a big party on the moon for you. Both of them are likely to gift you presents of Celestial origins (blessed jewelry that protects you from demonic possession, or a very rare book). They might have lost count of their own ages, but they understand how important birthdays are to some people. 🦁THE🐘BROTHERHOOD🦅: They're completely unfamiliar with how mortals celebrate birthdays, but they're going to do their best. Cake? OK sure they can make one (it looks god awful). Presents? Surely any mortal would appreciate dangerous weapons and armor (it's horribly wrapped)! With the whole "listen to the birthday person" thing they might take it too literally. Like if you say "Let's hit the road" they are going to demolish that goddamn road b/c you said to and are the birthday person. Your wishes must be followed. They're trying they really are.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Hunter of Love.

Every decision made or not made branches off and creates new realities. There are a countless number of those realities.

Worlds of infinite choices—he will glimpse them all.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Rook dances through the darkness, unburdened and dauntless. Not a single step produces a sound—though if it had, the sound would no doubt be absorbed into the abyss. He glides effortlessly, a swan upon still water.

There is no road for his feet to follow, only a plane of darkness. Heels strike it, eliciting a clear clack-clack-clack, as if the floor is marble.

The walls—if they can be called that; there's nothing solid when he sticks his arms out to test the environment—are laden with full-body mirrors. They're mounted up upon nothing, floating in place, their reflective faces clean, clear, and free of cracks.

He is drawn to them, tugged along as if compelled by the red string of fate.

In each, he is presented with a novelty.

Familiar places and people, refracted and twisted into something new. Something beautiful.

An ethereal art gallery for his own amusement.

He turns his head, taps fingers along the frames of each realm in turn.

A Night Raven College with as many as fourteen dorms. A Night Raven College set upon a stage, scripts in the hands of every student. A Night Raven College of young women, not young men.

Jade with his hair styled up in a mohawk, a plethora of piercings studding his face. Kalim with a monkey upon his shoulder, sharing a platter of fruit. Young Epel in a pair of glasses, mouthing the lines to a play. Idia, smaller than even his younger brother, in an oversized sweater, playing on a mobile gaming console.

Rook imagines a great tree, its roots ever-growing, expanding deep, deep, deep into the soil and continuing still. Endless choices, endless possibilities.

C'est la vie—such is life.

He stops.

His hand now hovers over the glass casing of a tragedy.

Rook stares at a version of himself, collapsed beside a bottle of apple juice. Its caustic contents ooze out onto the ground, bubbling as it eats away at the floor.

The common man would be repulsed. Chilled to the bone. Frightened.

But Rook Hunt is not the common man.

"Comme c'est magnifique," he marvels. “Willingly consuming poison, wishing so desperately to believe that his queen was free of sin… Here lies a foolish dreamer in the aftermath, still having faith in his dear friend's integrity.”

Rook lingers, drinking in the details of the morbid work of art.

He does not move, does not breathe. Ignoring the bottle, it is as though he had been laid into a peaceful sleep. Lips arranged in a soft smile, long lashes cast over his cheeks.

A beautiful queen weeps for him, tears colored black as the night. His clothes are tattered, his crown tarnished. He is a flower of evil, stripped of his petals.

The next mirror, the mirror after—all horrific ends, varying shades of gruesome. Visions twisting, distorting.

A king dressed in roses slaying their victims, peasants who dares to defy their rule. A hyena dissolving into sand. Students trapped in constrictive tentacles, stripped of their talents.

Mindless drones lumbering around a seized castle. A reality dyed in ink, ruled by blue flames and Phantoms. And… a tangle of briar knitting over the world.

To him, they are just as lovely as the rest.

Heartbreaking, but lovely.

As that thought strikes him, the area ahead brightens. He spots color dotting the darkness.

They start as scribbles, clumsy trails of crayon left by a child's hand. Further along, the crayon gains dimension, turning into yarn threads. Eventually, they weave together to form a coherent path marked by cobblestones made of newspaper clippings.

It leads to a thicket unlike any he has ever seen.

Every glade of grass, every leaf and stem, is painted in a glistening coat of silver. The flowers are crystal, the fruit, plump jewels. The sky, a watercolor masterpiece of brilliant blues, white clouds dabbled on with an artist's sponge.

A tower rises in the distance, fine and thin like a needle. Its pointed roof pierces the heavens, and there is but one solitary window embedded in the structure.

Rook gasps, and a thousand or more reflected Rooks gasp too.

The leaves tinkle, a melody of wind chimes and bells. He feels as though they are beckoning to him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the forest.

His feet have a mind of their own; they start moving, as if bewitched by the majesty of the enchanted wood, by the mystery of the tower. Beads of dew upon the grass are left untouched as he swiftly passes.

A call reaches out from a place far, far away. It's not quite speech, but vocalizations resembling speech--someone grasping for the right words, the right feeling.

There is a haunting hollowness to the siren song. A longing so immense it makes tears spring to his eyes.

It must be seeking its other half, Rook realizes. A harmony for its melody, to form a duet.

But the longer he tries to focus on the sound, the more he tries to parse out its parts, the more confused he becomes. The voice is contradictory: familiar and yet unfamiliar, happy and yet sad.

His pace quickens, as does his heartbeat. It's an anomaly for him, for whom calmness comes easily.

I must go to them, he thinks, unsure of why. I must.

Is there a yet-to-be-discovered wonder on the other side? His queen, whom he has sworn his undying loyalty to, in danger? Is it from the strange tower? A stranger requesting his aid?

Curiosity thrums through him.

Hurry.

The tower seems to drift farther and farther away with each step. The voice, fainter.

Hurry...!!

Rook runs.

The building accelerates. The trees expand as if to fill in the space where the tower had fled.

Wildlife carved of glass watch, some racing with him. A deerling on limber, elegant legs, a rabbit bouncing as high as it can. Even the fish skip atop the river that runs concurrent with the forest trail, and a flock of birds soar upon their crystalline wings.

They trill, they coo, they sing.

His run becomes a sprint, and the sprint becomes a gallop. The call to adventure, loud and clear in his ears.

He is one with nature, and nature is one with him.

I must see for myself what lies at the ends of this world--and beyond it.

His spirit brims, burning with determination.

Chasing something he doesn’t know the true nature, the true face, of. For that... is the thrill of the hunt.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

The IDF has been releasing a lot of incriminating intel on the Shifa hospital in Gaza being used by Hamas. There's footage of a drone going into a terror tunnel underneath it.

There's pics of the weapons found there. There's the results of an investigation into the fate of 19 years old Noa Marziano, who was kidnapped by Hamas, lightly injured in an IDF strike, which killed the terrorist who was guarding her, another terrorist took her into the basement at the Shifa hospital, and killed her there, then Hamas tried to stage "evidence" that she was killed in the IDF strike. And most recently, there's CCTV footage showing Hamas bringing in hostages (one man from Nepal and one from Thailand) into Shifa, with the terrorists being armed, and all of this was done in broad daylight, and right in front of the medical staff.

Of course anti-Israelis, including the Hamas, said it was just bringing hostages in to get treatment.

But here's the thing, Shifa is on the Western side of Gaza, while Hamas breached the Israeli border in the east. On the way between the border and where this hospital is located, there are plenty of other medical facilities on the way. Any of them would be preferable if the goal was to give the hostages medical treatment as soon as possible. But they took these kidnapped men all the way to Shifa instead. Because that's Hamas' headquarters.

I've known for years, like most Israelis, that Hamas is using medical facilities like hospitals and ambulances for its terrorist activity. This evidence does not surprise me. But I think it didn't really sink in for me until yesterday, just how many people knew and kept silent. I'm not even talking about the Gazan medical staff. They live under the constant threat of Hamas, I don't blame them. But the UN, the Red Cross, all of those "noble" NGO's operating from Gaza (and getting a lot of donations to do so), all of those foreigners with access to Gaza, who knew the situation on the ground, and chose to lie, and continued to do so even after the Oct 7 massacre... WTF is wrong with these people? By keeping quiet, they endangered both Israeli civilians (who Hamas could continue to target with impunity when operating from inside medical facilities), and Palestinian ones that Hamas endangered by using them as human shields.

Who is going to hold these people accountable? Who is going to make them pay for their complicity in endangering so many people, millions altogether, on both sides of the border, so that they never dare do this again?

Have ANY of them come forward, apologized, taken responsibility for their long complicity? I've heard of no such thing. In fact, I assume that they will only raise the volume of their accusations against and vilification of Israel, to drown out the voices asking these questions.

In this tweet you can hear an interview (starting at around 35 seconds in) with one of the few foreign doctors, who had worked at the Shifa hospital, and who after Hamas' massacre, did not come forward with his testimony about what he'd seen and experienced while he was there, but did agree to have it recorded once he was asked to. If Hamas is finally taken down, we might get to hear more of these, and I guess... better late than never.

In the midst of all of this, Israel has helped evacuate babies from the Shifa hospital to ones in Egypt, and the equipment to established a second Jordanian field hospital has entered Gaza today.

Israel continues to be attacked by Iran-funded rockets from the south, from the north by Iran-funded Hezbollah, as well as from Syria, by the Iran-funded Houthis in Yemen, by independent terrorist attacks, and online from cyber attacks, by Iran-funded and even Iranian hackers. I kind of tend not to talk about these that much, because they're on going. It's happening every single day, and Israel, in the middle of the fight to destroy Hamas, has to also defend its people on these fronts.

The anger and hurt over the denial of rapes that happened as part of Hamas' massacre continues, and more people are trying to speak up against it:

This is 15 years old Itay Cohen.

He's a triathlete, and was in the middle of a training session, cycling in the south, when Hamas terrorists shot him. He was taken to a hospital without any family by his side, because his parents were locked inside a bomb shelter in their kibbutz. Itay took a bullet to the head, and lost his eyesight, but somehow survived. So did his parents. He vowed he won't stop training, despite his new disability. This terror attack has changed countless lives, from among the survivors as well.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[balkanradfem]

Your story about that man attempting to groom you was so sad, and I know it doesn't work like this, but you really shouldn't blame yourself. Predators are predators because they're good at hunting.

As a slightly cheering story, I wanted to share my exact opposite experience as a young woman that a man attempted to groom. It's extremely long, so start at your own risk.

When I was eight, my family moved out to a remote farm. And on one hand, it was awesome, because I got to spend years wandering forests and fields so remote that I only saw other humans a few times each year.

On the other hand, I was (and still am, lol) an pretty autistic woman who was receiving zero social feedback during critical formulative learning years. And my mother, who was a lesbian who had married a man because it was expected of her, was really my only major human contact since my father was always at work.

So when I went to college at eighteen, I was very feral and had zero respect for men as a sex, thinking of them as mainly bumbling idiots that you only interacted with if you wanted babies.

Shortly after I started living in the dorms at college, an old man (60s) came up to me in the library and started talking to me. And he was actually pretty fascinating, mainly because he owned a fox and my immediate plan was to befriend him in order to pet his fox. So we exchanged numbers and he immediately he starts calling me every day and would drone on for hours about his life. And I could not care less, so I would let him blabber on in the background while I played video games and ignored him. He started calling so often, that I actually unplugged my phone and then plugged it back in a few days later only for him to call at 3 AM. And when I picked up the phone, he identified himself, and I told it was 3 AM and demanded to know why he was calling at such an hour. He said he just wanted to hear my voice, so I replied "Well you have." and then hung up.

Days later, he calls again and asks if I would like to go out for food and shopping. I respond with deadpan no, and tell him I have no money. He responds he'll pay for everything. And it never occurs to me that there will be expectations from him, because that was just never anything that had occurred in my life. The only adults I knew often bought me food and clothing for no discernable reason.

So we go out, and right away he gives me a ring with a gemstone in it. He blathers on and on about how expensive it was (like $90?) and tells me he knows it's too soon but that I deserve it. And I'm nodding along because this is all true and correct, I am amazing, I am incredible, and people should give me tribute for no reason. (Growing up feral, your ego will never be checked once, so you grow up with iron self esteem.)

We go out to eat, he only talks about himself some more, I eat a delicious chicken plate and then he drives me to some mall. He then tells me to get whatever I want.

And in his head, I imagine he thought that the social expectations would have been set up, that I would pick something cute and made for his gaze, because I'm spending his money and he already paid for my dinner.

But instead, I beeline to the thickest working man's jeans, grab six pairs, and then go straight to the dressing room before slamming the door into his following face. I then try on all six by myself, before coming out and announcing them all adequate and that I will take them all.

He's completely crestfallen and tries to stear me towards the underwear before holding up a thin gauzy thong and recommending them. And I look at him with such distain, like he is the world's stupidest fucking idiot that just fell off of the slow truck, before responding, "Stop being stupid, those will be uncomfortable." I then demand he buys me a six pack of durable cotton granny panties.

After he purchasing everything, we drive back to my dorm and I hop out with my bags. But for some reason, he gets out too. So I turn and face him and just stare at him, waiting for him to explain himself. And he kinda falters and stammers that he thought I was going to invite him up. I inquire why in a severe tone, starting to suspect that I have befriended the village idiot.

He responds that he thought the date was going well so he wanted to come up and see my dorm. And my look of distain, disbelief, and disgust is so severe, that he looks shocked before I even respond: "Why would you think this was a date? You are so old. Older than my father. And ugly. And fat. And I am so young. Why would you ever think this was a date?" And my outrage is so strong that I stride away towards the lobby door without waiting for an answer. He shouts "I want my fucking ring back." and I tell him no, you can't take a gift back, before walking through the door and locking it after me.

I never saw him again and I disconnected my phone, but he did send me an increasingly deranged series of emails where first he attempted to blackmail me into returning the ring by threatening to tell my college that I was defrauding innocent men and get me expelled, and then eventually started writing fan fiction erotica about me and exactly what I did when I had sex with them. But none of it bothered me because you can't taunt or hurt someone with something that isn't true, so I continued to ignore them and eventually he stopped.

So I hope that experience made him too wary to try grooming any other women in the great that he would encounter another autistic farm girl.

By the way, I never got to pet that fox, and that's the real tragedy of this story, that I listened to his annoying voice for so long and didn't even get to touch it.

Noo you didn't get to pet the fox!! Do you think the fox was real, did you see pictures? Maybe it was fake, because that is a perfect pull. If someone came up to me with the information that he has a fox, that would also work on me, I would want to pet that fox so badly.

Other than that, you are incredible, I wish we could all download your mindset and live like this. Amazing, unstoppable, unbothered, cannot be guilted, unafraid, will look a m*n in the face and tell him exactly whats up.

The funny thing is that I thought the same about my creep! I thought he was so old and ugly and boring and stupid and how could he in any realm of possibility even attempt to think he could date me? It was so inappropriate to even imagine that! I just couldn't say that, it would seem unforgivable for me to hurt his feelings by speaking my mind on the issue.

Anon I admire you so much, I can't believe you weren't bothered by all of the insane things he did (calling, trying to blackmail you, writing erotica about you) because I would be at the end of my nerves, changing my name and address, living in hiding for 20 years.

You did the completely right thing by ignoring him, wait if he knew where your dorm was, would he ever wait for you or try to physically assault you? That would be my first fear. You must be so strong to be this brave. I can't even imagine.

[autumn-foxfire]

Up to movie 22! I can't believe I'm almost at 23, the best DC movie. But I still have this one to get through first.

Of course Shinichi knows the record for the highest a drone can fly. The king of weird facts.

It's too early in the movie for you two to look pretty. Not fair.

We're starting off with a very violent explosion I see.

Or, Agasa, you should tecach the children to take turns like a normal person would.

Well that isn't good news for Amuro. If Ai noitced, you know that the BO did too. Is this going to have BO involvement?

The synopsis did say Kogoro was framed. I have to wonder how they managed to achieve that, however.

She deserves the world. Gosho, you should give her the world.

This episode shows you why the police aren't your friends. Also why is Ran calling Shinichi and NOT ERI. ONE OF THEM IS A LAYWER AND HER MOTHER.

This movie already is getting on my nerves.

Shinichi, Amuro has always been your adversary. He almost fucked up your plan with Akai for a personal grudge. He almost got Ai killed (someone you said you would protect with your life). I'm sorry, but I really hate how lightly Shinichi treats Amuro when other people have gotten his scorn for less actions.

Finally, Ran remembered her mother is a lawyer and went to her. Who she should have gone to first but we gotta push the bad romance~

Awww, thank you Agasa for reminding Shinichi not to take it out on Ai.

Ran, trust your mother's judgement. She is the lawyer. She knows what she's doing.

So Nasa is known as Nazu in DCMK.

Honestly, I think they should let Shinichi be more pissed off.

LMAO I do love Azusa shutting down Amuro's comment about being a good wife. She's not for it. She only cares about profits.

Shinichi, you should recognize the "I'm just going to the toilet" excuse for what it is. This is just embarrassing for you.

Does this man not change his suit?

Shinichi, why are you admitting your crimes to a police officer? Your lucky he won't do anything about it but what you just did was a crime that could get you in a lot of shit.

Shinichi isn't even bothering to be "shinichi" to tell the truth.

Ran don't get flustered about that. If Shinichi is a decent person, he would do this without any connection. Also Shinichi can you fucking NOT insult Ran. It's not playful when you do it to her because you're an ass to her and you genuinely do treat her like an idiot who doesn't deserve to know as much as you do.

Sorry, I'm just realising why I don't see many people talk about this film unlike the others.

Shinichi entered the matrix.

Pile ups are becoming common in Detective Conan movies.

Of course Ran is where the danger is. Can't have a movie without her being a damsel in distress who needs to be saved by Shinichi!

CAN WE FUCKING NOT. Sorry I'm throwing up because they're also making Eri a school girl whose blushing over being protected by Kogoro (who is also in danger but is calm because the men get to be cool).

I'm sure this tall place won't be in any danger at all. None at all :)

I wonder if these public security know that they're using children to fly a drone to "defend this country".

"I tried to ruin a family for my petty revenge." God this movie is fully of bad people, isn't it. Amuro and her would get on great though.

Imagine being a part of this evacuation though. You were told to go somewhere safe and then the police go "lol we made a mistake, this place is where the actual danger is".

Genuinely, I really hate the contrived danger they put Ran in so they can have Shinichi be all worried about her and not the thousands of other lives in danger as well.

Give a cheer for Amuro's car, the true MVP in this movie.

Fuck. Off.

Shinichi: Do you have a girlfriend, Amuro?

Amuro: Shinichi, I'm gay, just like you.

Shinichi: I'm what?

They're being very obnoxious with the "Ran"s this movie, aren't they.

LMAO I find it kind of funny how pushed the romance was this movie and they just showed the conclusion in the ending credits which was just Shinichi going "Oh, glad you're alright."