#this is one thousand decades late

[sarafroot]

i humbly request vi and vander hugging bc they should’ve done that more 😔

Agree 😢😢😢😢

[luviestarz]

park sunghoon fic recs!

✮ Cafeteria Confessions• PSH - @reinahwanggg (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.)

✮ NOONA — p. sunghoon smau - @hoonvrs (park sunghoon experienced love at first sight when he first laid eyes on his friends older sister. a series of sunghoon desperately trying to do anything in his power to get the girl and yang jungwon cockblocking him for funsies.)

✮ secret soft boy revealed | enhypen sunghoon - @elysianeclipxe (build-a-bear is a cliche and old thing that couple do. only lame people would go there to build a bear when it's obviously easier to just buy one.. so tell me why THE Park Sunghoon just so happens to be there, enjoying the fact that he's building a bear... whipped af)

✮ the 24-hour dating challenge - @jaeyunverse (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.)

✮ CITRUS IN THE MORNING. - @hannie-dul-set (lovestruck! sunghoon just being Very In Love)

✮ 박성훈 、SPOILED ROTTEN - @boyfhee (sunghoon is drunk and is trying to break into your room through the balcony.)

✮ 성훈  、PARK SUNGHOON ! - @sseastar (THE ONE WITH THINGS THAT BLUR THE LINE BETWEEN FRIENDSHIP AND MORE)

✮ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — BED 박성훈 - @karinasbaby (your fiance, sunghoon insisted on a "mini honeymoon" before your wedding preparations took over your time, so how would your day go now that you're on an island thousands of miles away from home with sunghoon?)

✮ angel - @yenqa (sunghoon can’t seem to figure out if you’re human or an angel.)

✮ come on baby, don’t say that. / park sunghoon - @snghnlvr (you were curious whether or not your boyfriend was a possessive type so you tested it out.)

✮ ceo sunghoon who loves taking care of you because you're his ౨ৎ - @hottestvirgin

✮ sunghoon with a crush on you | smau - @woniecore

✮ scoring a date - @shuichi-sama (if someone had told you that after becoming your high school's volleyball team manager, you would capture the attention of it’s captain, park sunghoon, you wouldn’t have believe them. but as he charm’s his way to your heart, you just might. or in which, sunghoon attempts to woo-you, seem to be working in his favor.)

✮ we can’t be friends — [ 엔하이픈 성훈 ] genre ⋆ smut - @dearjaeyuns

✮ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ | psh. - @pshcomforts (you test sunghoon on his reaction to a girl hitting on him after finding one of those videos on tiktok.)

✮ 𝓜𝐒. & 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇 - @jlheon (seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon)

✮ IMPATIENT. - @sainns (he had everything planned out but how's he supposed to wait when it comes to you?)

✮ MY WORLD — p.sunghoon - @ikeuverse (you're back and you owe Sunghoon an explanation for your departure, but it looks like it's going to be a bit tricky to get him to listen to you.)

✮ UNLUCKY GIRL SYNDROME ✦ PSH - @suneng (if it was possible to see the number of people who would fall in love with you over your lifetime, most people would agree to it in a heartbeat, but some might not. you don't get that choice, labelled by a mysterious system as someone destined to receive no love and threatened to fix this 'error' before it's too late. but who will be your saviour, the social pariah sunghoon, or the school's golden boy sim jaeyun?)

✮ park sunghoon — THE PUSSY EATING COMPETITION! - @karinasbaby (in which… jake convinces sunghoon to join a pussy eating competition with a bet !)

[star-anise]

Warnings: Doomerism, climate grief, child death

The thing about having studied history and the psychology of trauma so much is that I can't pretend to myself that the world used to be better at sometime in the past.

Don't get me wrong; things are absolutely terrible right now and need to change, quickly.

But also, they're better than they've ever been for us as a species. It is literally mindblowing how much worse life was for us historically.

Have you seen one of those charts of the human population over time? Have you thought about what it actually means?

Because here's what I see: Humans have always loved things like living to old age, like having sex, like raising babies. Those are things we have always wanted to do. It's not like pre-industrial humans were giant pandas like, "Nah, rather not reproduce as a species. No thanks," and suddenly the Victorians discovered horniness.

Instead, for most of human history, we have died. At terrifically young ages. The few who made it to adulthood could make babies as much as they liked, and then overwhelmingly watched pregnancies miscarry, births end in tragedy, or babies die. Their own lives were constantly at the mercy of a world that could kill them without a second thought. To be human meant to live in a world full of a million little tragedies, all the goddamn time.

And then what happened was: The babies stopped dying. The effects of a lot of things from higher agricultural yields to public health efforts to mass communications made us the master over the diseases and maladies that once had us by the throat.

When we look ahead at catastrophe and terrors, yes, they're bad. But they'd have to be extremely bad indeed to measure up to the number of people who wouldn't even be alive in any other century.

And even the obvious bogeyman then, overpopulation—did you notice what's already happened? On that chart, there's the green measure of total population, but the thin purple line is the rate of population growth. Please notice that it peaked in 1968. It is, in fact, projected as entirely possible that within a century it could go lower than it was twelve thousand years ago, at the end of the last big ice age.

The moment babies started to live longer, people went, "That is too many babies. An absolutely unsustainable number of babies. People are crying out for help because taking care of that many children is completely overwhelming. We need to be able to fix this problem," and they invented birth control and fought to get it legalized. It hit the market in the late 1950s and in less than a decade, it had caught on like wildfire.

To me, this is the absolute opposite of an argument for passivity and political inaction. It's not that everything's going to be okay so why even try. It's that as it turns out, the human capacity to grow and thrive and make the world better is absolutely reality-defying. I don't have faith that all of our problems will be solved, but I do have faith that those problems are all the subject of passionate obsession of millions of people.

And apparently we have a really strong track record at that kind of thing already.

[reasonsforhope]

"Many people know about the Yellowstone wolf miracle. After wolves were reintroduced to the national park in the mid-1990s, streamside bushes that had been grazed to stubble by out-of-control elk populations started bouncing back. Streambank erosion decreased. Creatures such as songbirds that favor greenery along creeks returned. Nearby aspens flourished.

While there is debate about how much of this stemmed from the wolves shrinking the elk population and how much was a subtle shift in elk behavior, the overall change was dramatic. People were captivated by the idea that a single charismatic predator’s return could ripple through an entire ecosystem. The result was trumpeted in publications such as National Geographic.

But have you heard about the sea otters and the salt marshes? Probably not.

It turns out these sleek coastal mammals, hunted nearly to extinction for their plush pelts, can play a wolf-like role in rapidly disappearing salt marshes, according to new research. The findings highlight the transformative power of a top predator, and the potential ecosystem benefits from their return.

“It begs the question: In how many other ecosystems worldwide could the reintroduction of a former top predator yield similar benefits?” said Brian Silliman, a Duke University ecologist involved in the research.

The work focused on Elk Slough, a tidal estuary at the edge of California’s Monterey Bay. The salt marsh lining the slough’s banks has been shrinking for decades. Between 1956 and 2003, the area lost 50% of its salt marshes.

Such tidal marshes are critical to keeping shorelines from eroding into the sea, and they are in decline around the world. The damage is often blamed on a combination of human’s altering coastal water flows, rising seas and nutrient pollution that weakens the roots of marsh plants.

But in Elk Slough, a return of sea otters hinted that their earlier disappearance might have been a factor as well. As many as 300,000 sea otters once swam in the coastal waters of western North America, from Baja California north to the Aleutian Islands. But a fur trade begun by Europeans in the 1700s nearly wiped out the animals, reducing their numbers to just a few thousand by the early 1900s. Southern sea otters, which lived on the California coast, were thought to be extinct until a handful were found in the early 1900s.

In the late 1900s, conservation organizations and government agencies embarked on an effort to revive the southern sea otters, which remain protected under the Endangered Species Act. In Monterey Bay, the Monterey Bay Aquarium selected Elk Slough as a prime place to release orphaned young sea otters taken in by the aquarium.

As the otter numbers grew, the dynamics within the salt marsh changed. Between 2008 and 2018, erosion of tidal creeks in the estuary fell by around 70% as otter numbers recovered from just 11 animals to nearly 120 following a population crash tied to an intense El Niño climate cycle.

While suggestive, those results are hardly bulletproof evidence of a link between otters and erosion. Nor does it explain how that might work.

To get a more detailed picture, the researchers visited 5 small tidal creeks feeding into the main slough. At each one, they enclosed some of the marsh with fencing to keep out otters, while other spots were left open. Over three years, they monitored the diverging fates of the different patches.

The results showed that otter presence made a dramatic difference in the condition of the marsh. They also helped illuminate why this was happening. It comes down to the otters’ appetite for small burrowing crabs that live in the marsh.

Adult otters need to eat around 25% of their body weight every day to endure the cold Pacific Ocean waters, the equivalent of 20 to 25 pounds. And crabs are one of their favorite meals. After three years, crab densities were 68% higher in fenced areas beyond the reach of otters. The number of crab burrows was also higher. At the same time, marsh grasses inside the fences fared worse, with 48% less mass of leaves and stems and 15% less root mass, a critical feature for capturing sediment that could otherwise wash away, the scientists reported in late January in Nature.

The results point to the crabs as a culprit in the decline of the marshes, as they excavate their holes and feed on the plant roots. It also shows the returning otters’ potential as a marsh savior, even in the face of rising sea levels and continued pollution. In tidal creeks with high numbers of otters, creek erosion was just 5 centimeters per year, 69% lower than in creeks with fewer otters and a far cry from earlier erosion of as much as 30 centimeters per year.  

“The return of the sea otters didn’t reverse the losses, but it did slow them to a point that these systems could restabilize despite all the other pressures they are subject to,” said Brent Hughes, a biology professor at Sonoma State University and former postdoctoral researcher in Silliman’s Duke lab.

The findings raise the question of whether other coastal ecosystems might benefit from a return of top predators. The scientists note that a number of these places were once filled with such toothy creatures as bears, crocodiles, sharks, wolves, lions and dolphins. Sea otters are still largely absent along much of the West Coast.

As people wrestle to hold back the seas and revive their ailing coasts, a predator revival could offer relatively cheap and effective assistance. “It would cost millions of dollars for humans to rebuild these creek banks and restore these marshes,” Silliman said of Elk Slough. “The sea otters are stabilizing them for free in exchange for an all-you-can-eat crab feast.”"

-via Anthropocene Magazine, February 7, 2024

[pedrospatch]

strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

[booasaur]

Remember during the 2016 elections, we were so scared of what Trump might do? How afraid we were for Roe but were told by so many people, pro-choice people even, that it was such settled law and it would be such a flashpoint, they'd never touch it. Don't overreact, you sound hysterical, this fearmongering is ruining your credibility. Hell, maybe worry for gay marriage, but abortion? No chance.

We watched Kavanaugh and ACB confirmed with increasing trepidation and STILL there was so much shock when the Dobbs leak happened.

Remember that feeling of knowing what was going to happen, because of your experience and knowledge, and nobody believing you till it was too late? And the very people who smugly shut you up pivoting and continuing to act like the authority, that, ah, yes, now was the time to worry?

This guy above represents the mainstream Western narrative since Israel killed the World Central Kitchen aid workers.

Somehow, after everything we've already seen, Israel was still getting the benefit of the doubt. After killing hundreds of aid workers already, mostly Palestinian, after killing more than 15,000 children, after killing multiple people waving white flags. After literally a scenario where a Red Crescent ambulance arranged safe passage with the IDF--just as this WCKitchen convoy had--to rescue a 6 year old child and ending up bombed.

Why didn't the world listen before? Israel didn't suddenly change, only perceptions have. They're the same now as they were three days ago, as they have been for the last months, years, decades. This wasn't an escalation, it was an inevitability.

Chef José Andrés, who runs the WCKitchen, and recently a vocal critic of Israel, was actually strongly defending them earlier. I saw someone call that Western naivety, but... is it simply being too naive, too trusting, when your good faith is only extended to one side? Isn't that just bias? Now Pelosi is signing a letter to stop weapon transfers to Russia when she was accusing protesters of being paid by Russia? Now, Western governments are saying this is too much?

I'll take any help we can get in stopping this onslaught, but these recent shifts came too late to save so many, including the WCKitchen workers. What changed for so many people now? We can't ignore why THIS was so many people's red line when tens of thousands of Palestinians weren't. Not only would it be an injustice to them but until this bias is interrogated how are we going to stop this or from repeating if the same wrong ass people are making the same decisions with the same worldview?

[ddarker-dreams]

mini love report — gojo satoru

relationship health diagnosis — 70%*

symptom one — permanent honeymoon phase

he's obsessed with you an (ab)normal amount and makes it everyone else's problem. satoru loves seeing how many compliments he can get in before you're swatting him away from embarrassment. he'll capture your wrist, smother your pulse in kisses, then continue his praise. it's not always suave either. he alternates between having decent game and coming off as cringe. you have no idea how he says half the things he does.

satoru gushes about you to everyone. poor ijichi, mortified higher-ups, the elderly lady sitting next to him on the train; no one is safe. his chest swells with pride every time he remembers that he managed to pull you. it doesn't matter if you're teenagers sharing your awkward first kiss or if you've been married for decades, he'll be singing your praises until the end of time.

symptom two — weirdly possessive

satoru isn't possessive in the traditional sense. when others encroach on you, what troubles him runs deeper than simple jealousy. his smile becomes strained and he physically inserts himself between you and the offending party. you're then whisked away, regardless of how rude the abrupt departure comes off. this isn't limited to instances where you're being flirted with outright.

it's actually amplified when the other person holds some unique position in your life that's exclusive to them. satoru prides himself on the fact no one knows you better than he does. so it's disconcerting when another person has access to information and memories entirely detached from him. he's overwhelmed with the urge to prove you belong to each other — no one can come close to the bond you share. this acrimony lingers even after the interaction ends.

gojo satoru is a greedy man. he might not be the type to insist you cover up if your outfit is revealing, but he does experience this antipathy toward people who fulfill a niche he can't.

symptom three — obnoxious

you deserve a reward for putting up with him honestly. he wasn't wrong when he described himself as having a terrible personality. while it's rarely malicious, he isn't the most considerate person when it comes to others. he'll speak what's on his mind without a second thought. zero filter. if you're around, he's a stunning 10% nicer so you'll chew him out less. the number could be higher but he finds that disciplinary side of you hot. this is a direct admission from him.

he likes your attention and will pursue it relentlessly. as he grows up, he slightly improves this habit. or, to be more specific, he hides it better. he feels he's way more interesting than whatever book or video game you're playing. shooing him off so you can get stuff done is a commonplace occurrence. on the upside, when trudging through chores, he helps with the passion of a thousand suns if it means having you all to himself sooner.

primary area of concern

satoru's seemingly infinite (heh) supply of pep often doubles as a shield to deflect uncomfortable emotions. he isn't one to linger on negative events, the pace in which he seemingly moves on is concerning. the innerworkings of his mind are shrouded in mystery for such an open individual. getting him to open up about his fears or past hurts is almost impossible. he won't dodge your inquiries outright, that'd prove too suspicious. he'll throw a few crumbs your way and hope that's enough to satiate your worry.

the word vulnerability isn't in his vocabulary. this isn't owed to a lack of trust on his part — if anything, the care he holds for you makes it tempting at times. however, taking that first step toward opening up is daunting. you'll have to be patient with him. if it doesn't pertain to your relationship, it's unlikely he'll have an extensive heart-to-heart about the specters haunting his mind. rather, those aforementioned crumbs become more substantial. a late-night conversation will unexpectedly veer toward a sensitive subject.

it'll be fleeting. you don't have to shower him with platitudes, simply grab his hand and squeeze. it's an unspoken message that he isn't as alone as he sometimes feels.

prognosis

gojo satoru can be too blunt, he struggles with emotional intimacy, and he's shameless in getting what he wants from you. he's a mess but he's your mess. you don't revere him like a god among men, you make him feel human. you're his best friend, his soulmate (he keeps the latter description to himself, it's one of the few sentiments that embarrasses him). he'd do absolutely anything for your sake. when you enter the room, it's like everyone else ceases to exist. he brightens up and chases after any laugh, smile, or flustered expression he can get.

he believes meeting you altered the balance of the world more than his own birth.

*the universe has tried (and failed) to wrench you apart (0-20) your friends are praying that you'll break up (21-40) 'well it could/has be worse' bargaining mindset (41-60) a lil messiness as a treat (61-80) pure and wholesome (81-10)

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

Ego: What's a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn't quite so sweet and innocent? Well, he's a grown-ass man, and you're about to learn that the hard way. https://suga-kookiemonster.tumblr.com/post/185053634904/ summary-whats-a-girl-to-do-when-her-sweet Paradise: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?! https://minisugakoobies.tumblr.com/post/659882895568207872/last-update-71622-pairing-jungkook-x Scattered Stars: It's easy to despise Jungkook when your contradicting magic doesn't allow you to touch each other without fatal consequences - but what if your eternal enemy turns out to be your soulmate with whom you, unfortunately, do fall in love with? https://taegularities.tumblr.com/post/649392196418732032/scattered-stars-jjk-m Collision: No matter how many years pass between you and Jungkook - you will never cherish and worship each other less than you did on day one. https://taegularities.tumblr.com/post/650660405291646976/scattered-stars-collision-jjk-m A Thousand Reasons Why: After leaving to work towards his dream rather than the bonds that shackle him to home, you didn't expect to see Jungkook again years later at your best friend's wedding. And even less, for love to rekindle at second glance. https://taegularities.tumblr.com/post/661442422287581184/a-thousand-reasons-why-jjk-m Stars Behind Waves: With a decade's distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realize once again - the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes. https://taegularities.tumblr.com/post/691157794938929152/stars-behind-waves-jjk-m I Heard A Rumor: One slip of a finger, and you realize you’ve liked an Insta photo of college hotshot Jeon Jungkook…from two years ago. You manage to unlike it within seconds, except it’s too late — Damn Kim Namjoon and his lightning-fast eyes. Do not tell a soul, you hiss. The man merely smirks. Next thing you know, a rumor is spread throughout campus. Y/n likes Jungkook…and now he knows. https://taeshobipop.tumblr.com/post/676354408512143360/i-heard-a-rumor-jjk Always You: You and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. What happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend? https://taestefully-in-luv.tumblr.com/post/648413649157914624/ always-you-jjk-one Rule # 5: You strike up a FWB deal with your childhood friend Jungkook after kissing him one night after a dare. But you have rules… 5 of them to be exact and it seems Jungkook doesn’t want to follow any of them. https://www.tumblr.com/taestefully-in-luv/698524352697810944/rule-5-jjk-12?source=share Lunar Violence: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes. https://taetaesbaebaepsae.tumblr.com/post/635110223990898688/lunar-violence-jjk

[thankskenpenders]

Help me out here: Why is there so much Ian Flynn hate going around lately? I thought everyone loved that he was contributing to the games. Now suddenly they aren't. I guess that's par for the course for this series but I don't get it. He isn't perfect but I like what he's done. Am I a weirdo?

Ian Flynn has always had a lot of fans, but any creator putting their work out there is going to have detractors as well. That's just the nature of being an artist. To some extent, it's no big deal. He's not a perfect writer. Nobody is! I consider myself a fan of his work, but I've criticized plenty of individual writing decisions from him on here.

But Ian doesn't just have critics. He has his own obsessive hatedom. And the specific nature of Ian's hatedom is... interesting.

A decade ago, Ian was only the guy writing for Archie Sonic, meaning any debates over his work were quarantined within that tiny niche of the larger Sonic fandom. Only people who kept up with the comics month to month had any real reason to have an opinion on the guy, which means we're talking about merely thousands of fans as opposed to millions.

Within that group, he had some haters. You had the people who were mad about story changes made during his run, particularly things like ancillary characters getting killed off (although over the years we've learned that most of those were editorial mandates from Mike Pellerito). You had the people mad that Ian didn't push their favorite ship, with feuding SonAmy and Sonally fans claiming that he was CLEARLY biased towards one or the other. You had the people who just really, really liked one of the previous writers way more - usually Penders, as hard as that may be to believe today. That sort of thing. Pretty normal comic fandom type stuff. Again, it comes with the territory.

Unfortunately, many of those haters only got worse over time, morphing into reactionaries who constantly try to incite Comicsgate type culture war bullshit.

There are people still mad at Ian for making Sally bi and pairing her with Nicole instead of Sonic in the later Archie comics. There have been elaborate MS Paint red string conspiracy boards explaining how people like Ian and Jon Gray have apparently been destroying the franchise from the inside for years by Making Sonic Woke. (Jon gets dragged into this because people are still mad about him drawing The Slap 20 years later. Yes, really!!) There was an unhinged change.org petition trying to get Ian fired, specifically from people who were mad that the Freedom Fighters aren't in the IDW comics. There was even a very sad little fan campaign from these people trying to get Sega to move the Sonic comic license away from IDW and over to Udon, because they thought Udon would bring Sally and Bunnie back and also make them sexy again. There's a lot of this.

(Unfortunately, Penders has also exacerbated this by gossiping about Ian on Twitter and giving these fans ammo, but that's a whole 'nother discussion.)

The thing is, for years, people who only played the games or watched the cartoons had no reason to pay attention to any of this. Now, though, Ian isn't just writing for some weird spinoff comics that only the super nerds read. Now he's writing comics that are canon to the games, and ALSO some of the games themselves, and ALSO consulting on other tie-in media like Sonic Prime, and ALSO writing the official Sonic encyclopedia, and ALSO serving as part of the new Sonic Lore Team at Sega. And on top of all this, he's got an increasingly popular podcast where he fields questions about his work on all of these things, which serves as one of the fandom's main windows into creative decisions being made behind the scenes.

As a fan of Ian's work, it's been really cool to see him rise in prominence. But the dark side of this is that his obsessive haters from the Archie days now have WAY more of a potential audience of their own. Now, every Sonic fan has to have an opinion on Ian. What this frequently means is that you'll have the Comicsgate types taking things Ian writes or says out of context, attempting to get more of the general fandom to yell at the guy.

Unfortunately, there are a wide variety of Sonic fans who take the bait:

You've got hardcore fans who disliked basically any recent piece of Sonic media and are looking for someone to blame.

You've got the people who are concerned about the sanctity of Sonic's canon, who shoot the messenger any time Ian mentions a new retcon from Sonic Team on the podcast - or any time he even mentions the THOUGHT of changing anything about the canon, as we saw recently with the Sol Dimension nonsense.

You've got people who romanticize some sort of mythical artistic vision that Sega of Japan supposedly has (or had) for the franchise. To many of these fans, American contributors like Ian just don't "get" the heart of the series and are trying to turn Sonic into something different. (This "heart of the series" tends to be some mix of Japanese instruction manual lore, the cinematics from Sonic CD, the OVA, and/or the games written by Shiro Maekawa, depending on what Sonic media the fan in question grew up with.)

You've got fans of specific characters or ships who pin the blame for how their faves are depicted entirely on Ian - most vocally fans of Shadow, even though the root problem is that Sonic Team hasn't known what to do with Shadow since 2006. At best this stops at regular old criticism, but at its worst this devolves into claims that Ian has an agenda against certain characters.

You've got fans annoyed by a perceived over-emphasis on comic-original characters in the IDW comics, ignoring the obvious facts that these characters exist because the game cast is so tightly controlled by Sega, and also, you know, that people just like the IDW characters and want more stories about them.

You've got a LOT of discourse over IDW's Sonic being a hero who tries to give his enemies second chances, as if half of Sonic's closest friends aren't already former villains and rivals. Honestly this is very transparently just reheated Steven Universe discourse lmao

You'll also see people who just think they could do Ian's job better. They can't believe that THIS GUY is the American fan working on all these Sonic projects, when clearly THEY understand the characters and lore and themes SO much better than this charlatan.

All it takes is for someone in one of these categories to be unhappy about some recent piece of Sonic media, and for them to come across an out of context quote or comic panel that rubs them the wrong way, and suddenly the leftist Zoomer Sonic fans will join the latest dogpile on Ian alongside the reactionary Comicsgate types who are mad at him for Making Sonic Woke.

In general, when fandoms get upset, they tend to want a scapegoat. A person or two to point a finger at and go "THAT's who ruined the thing I love!" This tends to be based less on reality and more on which contributors are the most visible online. You'll sometimes see teenage and adult fans of children's cartoons single out a storyboarder who's particularly vocal on Twitter, blame them for every story decision they don't like, and harass them off the platform out of a sense of retribution for their favorite ship or whatever. Failing that, fans might choose to blame every nitpick, down to individual lines of dialogue and frames of animation, on a showrunner, just because that's the name they associate with the show. And unfortunately, when it comes to Sonic, Ian is now arguably the most prolific and outspoken contributor on the English speaking internet, and therefore a common scapegoat.

Some of the things I've seen Ian blamed for are truly wild. A lot of people have claimed for YEARS that he's just lying about the existence of creative guidelines and restrictions from Sega - or, as fans call them, The Mandates - even though they're just an inherent aspect of working on a licensed property. Others claim that The Mandates are real, but somehow Ian's fault. A vocal minority of fans have convinced themselves that Ian is the sole reason the Freedom Fighters don't exist in the IDW comics, even though Ian says he's been pushing to bring them back since day one.

Sometimes you'll see people say he ruined shit he didn't even work on. A few weeks ago on Twitter I saw someone claim that Ian had written a rejected script for Sonic Forces in which Tails died. I could not find a source for this for the life of me. As far as I can tell, the rumor seems to have been born from an alleged leaked script for Forces with margin notes from Aaron Webber that criticized the way Tails was written, and also an old tweet where Aaron joked that Tails would die in an upcoming episode of Sonic Mania Adventures. These merged into "Aaron Webber criticized a draft of the Forces script in which Tails died." How'd Ian get dragged into this? Who fucking knows!

It's all just a big game of telephone. All it takes is some asshole to make something up about Ian on Twitter or YouTube or a DeviantArt journal or some forum, and at least a couple people will believe it, and then it gets repeated as fact. Again, this used to be contained by the niche nature of the Archie Sonic fandom, but now there are WAY more people who are receptive to this shit.

It's just sad to me that Ian tries to be so open and honest about his work, to try to explain the rationale for certain things, to keep fans looped in on the direction the franchise is headed, and this just gives the Flynnspiracy types more quotes to take out of context and try to paint him as the devil. If it sounds like I'm being overly defensive and dismissing his critics, man... some of the things I've seen people say directly to him are just unbelievable. People will send paragraphs-long angry screeds in to his podcast that completely tear him apart, and he has to sit there and be like "Well, that's your opinion, and you're entitled to it." People literally pay for special guest interview episodes where they just rapid fire complaints about his writing at him directly to his face. I don't know how he does it. I would snap.

All of this over Sonic the fucking Hedgehog of all things.

I don't know how to wrap this up. Engaging with fandoms online is very tiring, which is why I tend not to do it. Things like this are too common. I guess, just... remember that making art collaboratively is a complicated thing. The people involved are generally trying their best given the circumstances, but they're only human. They make mistakes. But please treat them like humans. Criticism and dogpiling are not the same thing.

[unscripted-if]

DEMO || PINTEREST

Lights…

Camera…

Action!

Those three words, along with the flashing of cameras and screaming of thousands of people, had made up your life for over a decade. Following your rising star into the stratosphere where you could look at where you’ve been upon your lofty perch in the sky. You were the ruler of your universe and there was nothing that’d bring you down…

… Until, of course, there was…

Suddenly in a free fall, without any chance of catching yourself in sight, you’re hurtling back to the ground with only one thought, one goal, in your mind: Find your way back up.

When a new project comes your way, new opportunities arrive with it, but nothing is ever cut and dry within Hollywood. You’ll have to put your all into this movie if you want any chance at salvaging your career.

Try to stay on script…

Unscripted is a slice-of-life interactive fiction where romance, drama, and the trivialities of life intertwine to create your story. Rated 18+ for explicit language, optional sexual content, drug/alcohol use, and violence.

Features

✰ Customizable MC: Name, gender (male, female, non-binary), sexuality, appearance, some of your past projects, and history with a few of the characters.

✰ Maintain your fan base and make sure that they haven’t forgotten about you. Will you earn more as your journey progresses?

✰ Be interviewed from sidewalk reporters to one of the biggest Late Night Shows within America. Just make sure that you make a good impression— there is such a thing as bad publicity after all.

✰ Romance one of the characters that’ll either have the crowd roaring or scratching their heads. Will you find common ground with your sworn rival? Take a chance at love with someone from your past? Give your hot-and-cold manager a shot? Time will tell…

✰ Adopt a new friend that will hopefully make your lonely nights less so.

✰ Rise back to the ranks of Super Stardom and take back your throne.

Romances

The Rival: Angel Sinclair [M/F] — Ever since you arrived in Hollywood, Angel Sinclair has been there. You’re not quite sure when, or where, your rivalry even began, only that it’s made a ton of tabloids rich with the stories they’d print due to it, and you’re even less sure why you keep running into them on the same lot you’re shooting your newest movie. Is it another twisted form of punishment? With an icy exterior that puts the Arctic to shame, you don’t think you’ve ever seen them smile— at least when they’re not in front of the camera or interacting with fans. Will you uncover more as your random run-ins start losing some of their randomness?

Route: Rivals to Lovers.

The Manager: Kieran/Kiera Walker [M/F] — Probably one of the few reasons you’re still where you are. With a keen mind, a sharp eye for detail, and an even sharper tongue, K has never taken it easy on you, and they’re definitely not doing so now. While pragmatic about their approach, they’re not afraid to tell you what they think, when the time calls for it, which is something that’s definitely caused some tension in the past. Still, you don’t know what you’d do without them; as they’ve stayed steadily by your side through it all. And you don’t think they’re going anywhere anytime soon.

Route: Slow Burn.

The Director: Spencer Hale [M/F] — Last Laugh, the title of the movie you’re now part of, is the passion project that Spencer has been working on for years; trying tirelessly to get it to the silver screen. You would know— after all you were there when they began to write it back in college. Despite not having seen them in years, the gentle look in their eyes hasn’t shifted in the slightest; even if it is a bit more wary now, they don’t hesitate in offering you the same level of kindness as before. Though, even that, still feels different, wrong somehow. Can you recover what’s been lost between you? Or will you forever be two ships passing in the night?

Route: Ex-Best Friend/Lover (can choose if they were your lover or not) || Second Chances

The Newcomer: Cameron/Carmen Rivera [M/F] — An up-and-coming star within Hollywood from the music scene. Having wanted to take a shot at the silver screen for years it’s only with this project that they’ve finally been given the chance— cast as your love interest, no less. You’re not too sure what to make of them. From everything you’ve read they’re sunshine incarnate, with a beaming smile always on their lips, that completely contradicts the darker colors that they typically wear. Something tells you, an almost bone deep intuition, that they’re an array of contradictions all rolled up into one package. Will you ever be able to uncover any of them?

Route: First Love (to them) || Age Gap

The Bodyguard: Roman Locke [M/F] — With a penchant to wear nothing but black, sometimes with muted tones of gray thrown in, you don’t know much about the individual that’s been guarding you with their life for the last five years. Only their stellar history in the Navy, coupled with a possible connection to being a CIA Agent, though that’s never been confirmed, and the other rudimentary facets of their past that any employer needs to know. However, even if they rarely speak, you know that you’re in more than capable hands and that they take their job seriously. But what happens when that professional facade begins to crack?

Route: Bodyguard Romance.

The Assistant: Harley Park [M/F] — Someone who’s very good at their job while also being everywhere and nowhere all at once. You don’t know if they’ll ever get over the embarrassment of your first meeting— with them being in a fandom shirt from a project you had done a couple of years before, with you at center stage on it. With an undeniable charm, if a bit awkward in their approach, Harley is definitely someone that’d you miss interacting with once you got the chance to do so. You just have to get them to actually interact with you first.

Route: Oblivious Love.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Hiii!

I love your writing, especially Mirror, Mirror! Are you still taking request? I‘ve been thinking about Ascended Astarion and female Tav/Reader attending a ball for the politicians and nobles of Baldur’s Gate, getting all dressed up and socializing, dancing and Astarion flirting with her all night long. Astarion obviously wouldn’t waste a chance to be alone with Tav/Reader, takes her on a romantic stroll in the gardens and has his wicked way with her somewhere in a dark corner 👀

I can not make Ascnedant Astarion not dark I am SORRY but I can't help myself. The intro to this is sad bad, but honestly it gets pretty fun later down the line. Gotta set up that Stockholm syndrome. You gots it here.

Tw: Murder, Violence, not much but it is there, graphic smut, 18+ sweet dark fluff. I do consider this Stockholm on your end. Very inspired by the in-game quote of locking you away for a decade. Also, never write shit only in tumblr post editor, I lost half of this right before I was going to post last and it almost killed me

~

Astarion was.... aware that you'd been having a hard time as of late. If anyone could empathize with the complications of being a vampire spawn, it was certainly him. Even though his circumstance were obviously much, much worse than yours ever could be.

He was no Cazador. Astarion was different, he loved you. He knew what was best for you. All that needed to happen now was for you to accept it.

And in your defense, you were trying. It had taken a long time for you to finally come to terms with the full extent of power he had over you as his spawn. He would always know where you were through sensation alone. Always ready and willing to drag you back home if need be. He could compel you to his side at any moment, though he did have a bad habit of going out to find you during your little tantrums. It seemed to work better to put you in your place, especially since he had very little self-control when it came to who you associated with. Many a possible friend had died at his hand, in front of your eyes. A waste, really, one that wouldn't be necessary if you would just listen.

But the demonstrations had been useful. Slowly but surely you were learning that the option of secrets between the two of you had died the second he sunk his fangs into your wrist. He had personally put an official stop to all of your extracurricular activities. The things you used to do in your spare time were silly and dangerous, always going out of your way to help the undeserving. But now he had the control to stop you, to sequester you at the estate where you were safe.

You had nowhere to be besides his side and you were finally starting to understand that. Things were so much easier when you gave in and listened, happier and more fun.

Lately, it had almost felt like another honeymoon phase, with your sudden predilection for extreme loyalty. It helped that he could still see into your mind through the new connection, fully aware that your love remained real and pure, if not a bit melancholic. It was silly really, the guilt you felt towards him for letting him ascend. Never mind the thousands he sacrificed, you were too concerned with how power had chanced him.

It was cute. Stupid, but cute. Because obviously it had changed him for the better. How else would he be where he was now? With his hands already in nearly every major part of Baldur's Gate's governance? He had made wide, sweeping moves to gain control in the past year, banking on your dual hero status to deflect from his more... unsavory attributes. But it was working, and in a few years time this city would belong to him. Then the two of you would be on to the next major conquest. A future that you were just now coming to terms with.

And Astarion wanted to reward you for that acceptance. He had been a bit paranoid of late, paranoid enough to not let you out of the house for a solid fortnight. But for good reason. The last of the Gur had come out of the woodwork recently, looking for revenge for their children and fallen comrades. With a specific interest in you. It had made sense, in a way. You were his greatest weakness after all. So of course he had to take it upon himself to personally hunt the last of them down to tear them limb from limb.

But now they were officially gone, and he was finally feeling comfortable with letting you out into the world again. Just not out of his sight. And tonight was the perfect opportunity. He had a mandatory soirée to attend, populated by neighboring nobles and a few powerful foreigners. One that would be so much more entertaining with you willingly by his side. Or forced, if need be. Depending on if you decided to be in one of your moods, though they were a rarity nowadays.

But no, you turned out to be too excited at the prospect of leaving the house to even attempt being a brat. Astarion watched you with a smile as you appeared at the top of the staircase, dressed to the nines. He whistled as he watched you descend, beyond pleased with how you looked. He met you at the bottom of the landing, easily wrapping an arm around your waist before setting a quick kiss to your temple, "You look beautiful pet. Absolutely stunning."

You truly did. A navy satin gown that matched your skin tone perfectly, fitted with delicate straps and a low bodice. Perhaps the slit in the leg was a little high, revealing too much of your perfect thigh for the rest of the world. But you looked too good for him to complain.

You really were so gorgeous, could he be blamed for wanting to dress you up?

You rolled your eyes, but Astarion didn't miss the tiny smile dancing on your lips, "You're the one who picked it out."

"And you wear it perfectly," Astarion praised, already leading you out the door. He kept you close to his side during the short journey, his eyes darting around your surroundings every few moments. His paranoia had been quelled, but it hadn't completely died out. But he had already made the decision that he was going to be on his best behavior tonight, and that included not indulging in his protective nature. You deserved nothing less.

But that didn't stop Astarion from taking some mental notes on those who stared at you too brazenly when you arrived. Part of him couldn't blame them, not when he could understand your thrall better than any one else. But the other, more fun part of himself was too busy imagining ripping them apart for the audacious, lustful stares.

But he didn't drag the two of you out for strictly fun, a fact that he was quickly reminded of when you were approached by the main host, "Lord Ancunín! I'm so pleased that you could make it."

Astarion vaguely remembered who he was, though he was much more interested in his friends than the man himself. The man turned his attention toward you, brow raised, "And who is this beautiful creature?"

Astarion could feel his brow twitch at the insolence. How dare he not know who you were? The Hero of Baldur's Gate, his consort, the love of his life, how could someone of his breeding be so ignorant? You had to many titles to choose from for introductions, so Astarion decided on the most important, "This is the future Lady Ancunín, my fiancé."

He could feel you tense at his side, staring up at him with wide eyes like what he said was surprising. Which was odd. He had been extremely clear about his intentions since the day he ascended, marriage was the obvious next step for the two of you.

"Well it's lovely to meet you," The noble said with a smile, his attention going straight back to Astarion, "Now if you'll excuse us, I have a few matters to discuss with your future husband."

Astarion was startlingly close to hurting this man. What on earth made him feel as though he had the right to dismiss you? He tightened the arm he had around your waist, sneering at him, "There is nothing that you can say that she won't eventually know. Don't waste our time."

Then he proceeded to do just that, wasting Astarion's time with useless information and worthless attempts at allyships. It seemed to be an unfortunate trend as the night progressed, just reinforcing how utterly useless the gentry could really be. Not to mention their constant passive dismissal of you. He really was going to need to start letting you out more often, though he had to wonder if they were even worthy of your presence. He would have been a bit more forceful regarding his own displeasure at their arrogance if you weren’t so distracting.

It was hard to hold onto his own indignation when you seemed so content. You were leaning into him the whole night, smiling softly through all of his inane conversations. Never failing to be adorably pleased at your introduction. It made Astarion want to fawn over you, alternating between whispering sweet nothings in your ear and sweeping you onto the dance floor. All of your pleased laughs and giggles music to his ears.

He kept you close all evening, never allowing you to wander past his sight. His arm stayed firmly around your waist, never quite shaken off after your first waltz together. But you didn't seem to mind. If anything you were glowing under the attention, happy in a way he hadn't seen for a long time. Too long. Beautiful enough for him to have the overly romantic thought that he never wanted the night to end.

Even after he had done his rounds, engaged with all whom he had planned on, he wasn't quite ready to leave. They had all been dreadfully dull, but at least a few conversations would prove useful in the future at the very least.

He started to steer you towards the back garden doors, whispering in your ear, "Take a walk with me?"

You followed him easily, happy to leave the bustle of the ballroom and step into the coolness of the night. You both started walking, hand and hand in a comfortable silence. It was a pretty enough garden, hedges and ivy lining the walkways, a white slightly weathered gazebo placed in the center.

"You know," You said eventually, as the two of you went up the gazebo steps. You leaned against the railing, looking at him with a coy smile, "I don't recall you ever proposing."

Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he crowded around you. It was an unnecessary question, considering how you would have no choice in the matter. But he was playing nice tonight. Astarion grinned at you, bracing his hands on the railing to cage you in his arms, "If you want a proposal, I'm more than happy to oblige."

"I do," You were playing with the lapel of his jacket, looking up at him through your lashes, "Sooner than later if you don't mind."

"Your wish is my command," Astarion murmured, shameless as he started to kiss along the line of your throat, "I'm proud of you pet. You've been an angel all night."

"You haven't given me much to complain about," You said with a small laugh, your breath hitching when his fangs scraped against your delicate skin, hard enough to make pinpricks of blood bubble to the surface.

"You know..." Astarion started, pulling back to look you in the eye. His voice gentle but serious, "It could always be like this. If you let it."

"I... I know," You admitted, biting on your lower lip as you struggled for the words, "I-I want that. I want you. Even if... it's like this."

Astarion would take offense at the subtle dig if it was anyone else. But with you? He was just happy that you were finally coming around, at long last willing to accept the fate he'd set for you.

"You have it," Astarion promised, tilting your chin up to press a light kiss to your lips, "For as long as I breathe my love, you're mine. And I'm yours-"

You kissed him before he could finish, wrapping your arms around his neck, forceful in a way that he had desperately missed. But you were pulling back too soon, your mouth swollen and your lipstick slightly smeared, smiling at him like the precious thing you were.

How could he resist?

"I think you deserve a reward for tonight my pet," Astarion said, leaning in to softly kiss along your jaw, "For being such a sweetheart."

His hands were wandering, already moving to pluck at the delicate straps of your dress, slowly teasing them to drop down your shoulders.

You made no moves to stop him as your eyes darted around the empty space, "H-Here? But what if someone sees?"

"Then I'll tear their eyes out and feed them back to anyone who stumbles on us," Astarion said simply, smiling at the way it made you laugh softly.

"Violence isn't always the answer you know," You said, your breath hitching as he lightly bit your neck. Your dress still slinking down all the while, "I thought we talked about that?"

"Perhaps," Astarion murmured, "But it seems to usually work in my favor."

He had already managed to slip the straps down enough to ease the way, brazenly tugging the fabric until your breasts spilled from the top. He leaned back in, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth as you gasped; mewling when he began touching you, shamelessly pinching your nipples just to hear you whine.

He adored all your little noises, so easy to coax out of your mouth. He could feel his own cock pulsing in the confines of his trousers, the feeling getting worse and worse as you started to whimper.

Astarion let one of his hands travel further down, right through the slit in your gown. He traced the seam of your pussy through delicate lace, smiling into the kiss from how the simple touch had your hips pitching forward. He could feel you getting wet, already seeping through the fabric of your panties, your needy cunt already begging for his touch. And Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

He tore them from your hips, letting the tattered pieces fall unceremoniously to the ground before he started to rub his palm against your clit, more slick gushing out as you moaned.

You were clutching at his shoulders, panting into his mouth as he played with you. Your thighs tightened around his hand, your cunt wet enough to fill the air with messy, indecent sounds.

Whatever trepidation you had before was quickly dissolving, a small chant escaping your lips as you two kissed, Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

"Hold onto me darling," Astarion ordered, giving you a split second to tighten your grip around his neck before he was lifting you in the air, settling you on top of the thick railing with your legs spread wide. He made quick work of taking his weeping cock out, rubbing it along the seam of your cunt as you moaned. And then he was pushing inside, the slide soaked and easy.

You felt so tight around him, tight and sopping wet as he started to fuck into you. He bent his head down, popping one of your hard nipples into your mouth as you cried out, your nails clawing into his shoulders. You wrapped your legs around his hips, trying to pull him in even closer, despite the fact that he was pressed deeply inside of you. Hitting all of your sensitive places.

He could tell that you were close, your whining getting more and more high-pitched by the second, your sweet cunt pulsing around his cock. Astarion started to rub at your clit again, at the perfect angle to make you tense up and cry out. And just like that you were squirting against his hand, breathing heavy as your orgasm ravaged through you.

Astarion grinned, popping off your breast to kiss your slack mouth. Naughty thing that you were, making a mess all over your fancy dress. He pulled back to look at you, debauched and panting, your pupils dilated at you stared up at him. You looked gorgeous, fucked out and perfect.

He started to fuck you harder, the erotic image was too much for his mind to handle. You where whining with each thrust, no doubt oversensitive as he roughly slammed into you. But you were a good girl, taking it without a single complaint as you held on for dear life, tears springing to the corners of your eyes. But lucky enough for you, you didn't have to wait long.

Astarion spilled inside of you with a drawn out moan, grinding circles into your cunt as you quivered. You pulled him in for another kiss, messily sliding your lips together as he filled you up. The two of you stayed like that for awhile, lazily kissing as he softened inside of you. It felt good, it felt right, the perfect end to a great night.

Astarion pulled out slowly, cooing at you as you gasped at the feeling. Your legs were still trembling as he set you back on the ground, bad enough for Astarion to wonder if he should just pick you up before you crumpled on the floor.

But first...

Astarion dropped to his knees, ignoring your surprised gasp as he spread your legs back apart.

"Hush darling," Astarion ordered as he pushed your dress back up, "Let me have a look at you."

Astarion was aware that he had gotten a little rough near the end there. It wouldn't be the first time he made you bleed during sex, nor the last. But he would hate to do so accidently. But no, your pussy looked perfectly healthy, if not a little swollen. Flushed and pink, your hole still twitching the slightest bit. The sight of your pussy all slick and red was nearly enough to make his mouth water.

"Spread your legs a little further pet," Astarion murmured, looking just to look. He gently added pressure to your shaking thighs until you complied, "That's it. Good girl."

His cum was already starting to leak out of you, the smallest bit of white making it's first appearance amongst your wet folds. No doubt it would be sliding down your legs soon enough. He could do something about that. But then again... the alternative sounded like too much fun.

Astarion stood back up with a smile, patting your pussy once before letting your dress fall back down, "Try to hold it in darling. We wouldn't want to make another mess, would we?"

You nodded slowly, still looking half out of it. A sweet, hazy look still plastered onto your face. You were already leaning in for another kiss, naturally desperate for more contact. Contact that Astarion was more than happy to give. He pulled you closer, kissing you deeply; your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him even closer. He wrapped his arms around your back, dipping his tongue between your lips as you dreamily sighed.

You pulled away first, to his displeasure, but you didn't go far. You rested your forehead against his, smiling softly with loving eyes, "Hi."

Astarion couldn't help but smile back, taking the time to tuck a wild piece of hair behind your ear, "Hello my treasure. Did you have fun tonight?"

"I think you know the answer to that," You giggled softly, "I'm not even sure I can walk."

That he did. And there would be many more nights like it. Though for now, he'd prefer to get you home. He felt a bit reluctant to parade you back out there for the masses eyes, so obviously debauched by his hands. No, the sight of you happy and flushed was for his eyes only. Your night would be ending here.

You squeaked as he swept you up in his arms, already muttering the magic for a portal under his breath. And just like that the two of you were gone, completely uncaring to give any good byes.

The two of you popped right into the entry hall of the estate, sudden enough to nearly scare a maid half to death. Astarion paid them no mind, too busy with carrying you upstairs to the sanctuary of your quarters.

You cuddled into his chest, looking up at him with a nervous look, "Did... Did I do good tonight?"

"Of course you did," Astarion cooed as he kicked the door to the bedroom open, trying to softly drop you on the bed, "Perfect creature that you are, what else could have possibly happened?"

But you didn't let go when he tried to pull back, clinging hard enough for Astarion to simply follow you. But he didn't mind, no he preferred you like this. Needy, wanting, and his. He twisted the two of your around, settling only when he had you laying on top of him. He would set a bath for the two of you later, but for now he was more than happy to lay here, watching as your tired to stay conscious. You always got so tired after sex, just one more silly thing that he was endeared by.

"I love you," You mumbled, your eyes falling closed, "Thank you for taking me tonight. For trusting me. I... thank you."

"I love you too darling," Astarion murmured back, kissing your forehead, "You get better by the day. I really am proud of you."

It was true. You were learning, adjusting. Give him a decade and you'd be completely immersed in your new life, all thoughts of useless things like "freedom" forgotten.

You were his. Until the end of time, you'd be together.

He'd make sure of that.

[reasonsforhope]

Article | Paywall Free

"Maryland Gov. Wes Moore issued a mass pardon of more than 175,000 marijuana convictions Monday morning [June 17, 2024], one of the nation’s most sweeping acts of clemency involving a drug now in widespread recreational use.

The pardons forgive low-level marijuana possession charges for an estimated 100,000 people in what the Democratic governor said is a step to heal decades of social and economic injustice that disproportionately harms Black and Brown people. Moore noted criminal records have been used to deny housing, employment and education, holding people and their families back long after their sentences have been served.

[Note: If you're wondering how 175,000 convictions were pardoned but only 100,000 people are benefiting, it's because there are often multiple convictions per person.]

A Sweeping Act

“We aren’t nibbling around the edges. We are taking actions that are intentional, that are sweeping and unapologetic,” Moore said at an Annapolis event interrupted three times by standing ovations. “Policymaking is powerful. And if you look at the past, you see how policies have been intentionally deployed to hold back entire communities.”

Moore called the scope of his pardons “the most far-reaching and aggressive” executive action among officials nationwide who have sought to unwind criminal justice inequities with the growing legalization of marijuana. Nine other states and multiple cities have pardoned hundreds of thousands of old marijuana convictions in recent years, according to the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws. Legalized marijuana markets reap billions in revenue for state governments each year, and polls show public sentiment on the drug has also turned — with more people both embracing cannabis use and repudiating racial disparities exacerbated by the War on Drugs.

The pardons, timed to coincide with Wednesday’s Juneteenth holiday, a day that has come to symbolize the end of slavery in the United States, come from a rising star in the Democratic Party and the lone Black governor of a U.S. state whose ascent is built on the promise to “leave no one behind.”

The Pardons and Demographics

Derek Liggins, 57, will be among those pardoned Monday, more than 16 years after his last day in prison for possessing and dealing marijuana in the late 1990s. Despite working hard to build a new life after serving time, Liggins said he still loses out on job opportunities and potential income.

“You can’t hold people accountable for possession of marijuana when you’ve got a dispensary on almost every corner,” he said.

Nationwide, according to the ACLU, Black people were more than three times more likely than White people to be arrested for marijuana possession. President Biden in 2022 issued a mass pardon of federal marijuana convictions — a reprieve for roughly 6,500 people — and urged governors to follow suit in states, where the vast majority of marijuana prosecutions take place.

Maryland’s pardon action rivals only Massachusetts, where the governor and an executive council together issued a blanket pardon in March expected to affect hundreds of thousands of people.

But Moore’s pardons appear to stand alone in the impact to communities of color in a state known for having one of the nation’s worst records for disproportionately incarcerating Black people for any crimes. More than 70 percent of the state’s male incarcerated population is Black, according to state data, more than double their proportion in society.

In announcing the pardons, he directly addressed how policies in Maryland and nationwide have systematically held back people of color — through incarceration and restricted access to jobs and housing...

Maryland, the most diverse state on the East Coast, has a dramatically higher concentration of Black people compared with other states that have issued broad pardons for marijuana: 33 percent of Maryland’s population is Black, while the next highest is Illinois, with 15 percent...

Reducing the state’s mass incarceration disparity has been a chief goal of Moore, Brown and Maryland Public Defender Natasha Dartigue, who are all the first Black people to hold their offices in the state. Brown and Dartigue have launched a prosecutor-defender partnership to study the “the entire continuum of the criminal system,” from stops with law enforcement to reentry, trying to detect all junctures where discretion or bias could influence how justice is applied, and ultimately reform it.

How It Will Work

Maryland officials said the pardons, which would also apply to people who are dead, will not result in releasing anyone from incarceration because none are imprisoned. Misdemeanor cannabis charges yield short sentences and prosecutions for misdemeanor criminal possession have stopped, as possessing small amounts of the drug is legal statewide.

Moore’s pardon action will automatically forgive every misdemeanor marijuana possession charge the Maryland judiciary could locate in the state’s electronic court records system, along with every misdemeanor paraphernalia charge tied to use or possession of marijuana. Maryland is the only state to pardon such paraphernalia charges, state officials said...

People who benefit from the mass pardon will see the charges marked in state court records within two weeks, and they will be eliminated from criminal background check databases within 10 months."

-via The Washington Post, June 17, 2024. Headings added by me.

[silkenedstars]

Sweet Slumber

An Emanator such as yourself that traveled for so long deserved to rest and Sunday is more than willing to help you sleep.

₊✦Honkai: Star Rail | Sunday x Gn!Reader | Yandere content up ahead!! (if you squint)✦₊

Additional Notes: Wrote this for my mutual @dilvei and it was her idea too, so go check her out right now!! 😤😤

Also might write more parts for this since I like the concept but idk, maybe, possibly.

The cosmos had been so lonely lately.

It felt desolate, a lot more than it normally did. You didn't know when exactly this change occurred, only that it did and that the only reason you could think of on why you weren't affected was because you were an Emanator of the Trailblaze.

But then, why didn't you see anyone else who was following the Path of the Trailblaze as you did? Or even other Emanators? Sure, you encountered a few Emanators of Nihility — all of whom looked more hopeless than ever — but you could count how many you encountered in just one hand during the past decade traversing the universe.

Something happened, but what was it?

Maybe you just needed to travel further out to find out.

So that's what you did.

But everything was the same no matter where you went.

There was nothing— no trace of life in any of the planets that you visited. The few "lifelike" beings you found might as well have been corpses, having fallen so deep into sleep that waking up was but an impossible dream for them. You wanted to help them, but alas, your powers were more suited for persevering, not healing, so leaving those poor souls be was your only option.

If only you had the Astral Express by your side so you could at least ensure that they'd remain safe under your watch, but the Express was also missing; having disappeared around a decade ago when all of this began.

So you left them behind.

The cosmos got colder that day, but feathers started fluttering about wherever you went from that point onwards.

It must've been a sign, surely, that you were getting close to something that was very important. Whatever it was, you weren't sure— Aeons know that it might already be too late and that important thing was already gone, dead even, but you needed to take whatever you could at this point.

This solitude was not one that you were fond of.

But the feathers, they were soft to the touch and gently drifted across space. Holding one in your hand brought comfort and travelling in the direction they came from filled you with a sense of ease. Like you were meant to head in that direction, in that way.

Wasn't this just the perfect way for the universe to guide you towards the answer for why there was barely anyone around?

Something felt wrong deep down, but what did you have to lose? If it was your life at worst, then there was no need to fear as you were an Emanator of the Trailblaze. The moment you felt death coming your way, you could just warp back to a planet far away and straight to safety. It was that easy.

So with your mind set, you travelled towards the source of the feathers.

₊ ˚ - — - ˚ ₊

Upon further thinking, this might've been a mistake, but the sight presented before you was certainly worth the trip at the very least.

Hundreds of thousands of wings stretched out far and beyond. You didn't see them before, but now that you were closer to this… sun-like being standing in front of you, it looked as if they stretched out infinitely; leaving no corner of the universe untouched.

You wondered if you could reach them and brush your hand against them.

If you focused, you could also faintly hear what sounded like a choir singing in the background. It sounded familiar, but why it did was beyond you.

Nevertheless, this sun-like being didn't appear to notice you and while it would be a smart choice to make your getaway now, the curiosity you felt about all this only drew you closer to it.

After judging the distance between you and it, you began closing in on it cautiously. The choir that was barely audible just a few moments ago grew louder little by little until you could pick up on it with ease. It was a melody you've heard before, you were sure. But it was an old melody from an equally old memory, you doubted that you'd be able to remember where it was from on your own no matter how much time you spent on it.

That didn't stop you from humming along it.

Each star you passed seemed to be replaced by a musical note, all of which slowly coming together to undoubtedly form the very melody being sang by the choir. Rainbows, just as infinite as the wings themselves, weaved themselves into existence as the dark blanket covering the universe slowly lifted and revealed colours akin to the purple littered sky of dusk.

Then it noticed you.

That sun-like being noticed you.

The wings, once stationary, seemed to rush forward to wherever they were extending to with speed you could barely comprehend; resulting in millions of feathers to fall out and scatter in every direction. The illusion that the universe provided quickly cracked and fell apart, the sky returning to its cruel dark colour and the stars losing their shape as the sun-like being approached you.

It was only when the being was right in front of you did the illusion it provided fully break, and only then did you start seeing the humanoid body that was attached to the wings and sitting right in the center of what you thought to be a sun.

Eyes were littered all across their body barely covered with deep purple and white silk cloth together with golden jewelry decorating every inch of it. You couldn't get a glimpse of their face due to the two small wings covering it, but you could see their silver hair — as well as the golden crown floating right behind their head — gently cascading down their shoulders and floating behind them as they slowly came closer towards you.

Then they stopped.

A chuckle, a low rumble, echoed throughout the space around you before a pair of hands — much bigger than you were — approached you from below and captured you within their grasp. They held you gently, settling you within their palms before moving you closer towards their— no, his body.

"You need not be afraid," He whispered softly, bringing you just close enough to get a better view of the decorated wings that covered his face. There was nothing left for you to see, not with how each individual silver feather tucked away his features delicately behind them. "I will not harm you."

"I… didn't think you would," you answered hesitantly. Truthfully, you very much thought that you would get squished between his palms or crushed between his wings, but his presence brought with it a sense of comfort so powerful that it made you want to fall asleep instead.

His head tilted in response and his feathers fluttered; moving in such a way to tease you into thinking that the smallest part of his skin would be revealed. "Is that so? But I can feel your heart beating within your chest, Emanator. If you are not afraid, then are you nervous?"

You shook your head. You were beyond nervous but strangely calm at the same time.

"Cute."

You froze.

"Cute..?"

Why did he call you cute? Did you— wait, no no! You couldn't afford to get sidetracked now! This being, he likely had answers as to why the universe was so quiet, why everyone had fallen into an eternal slumber, or some clues at the very least.

"Never mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions!"

He tilted his head, "Questions?" before he finally stretched out the wings covering his face, allowing you to see it as his lips shifted into a smirk, "Very well. Ask away, Emanator of the Trailblaze."

You parted your lips, prepared to ask every question that had been dwelling in your mind only for no sound to come out as you found yourself distracted by his eyes; those golden eyes that seemed to burn holes into your very being while trying to drag you deep into their depths at the same time.

You heard him chuckle lightly before tilting his head, his earrings gently swishing to the side and chiming just as sweetly as bells did, washing you over with a wave of fatigue.

Wait, fatigue?

"Changed your mind, Emanator?" he cooed, "You do look rather tired."

You weren't tired just a moment ago though!

"I'm… not…" you protested weakly, your words coming out slurred and quieting down little by little. "Not…"

Tired.

You shouldn't be tired.

What did he do to you?

"Oh? But you very much are, Emanator."

He shook his head, the chiming of his earrings lulling you further into sleep as he brought you up to his shoulder and plopped you down right next to his neck, uncaring and unbothered by what you could possibly do to him with your new proximity.

"I'm sure your journey has exhausted you so," he said, nudging you a little with his index finger — which was just about the length of your entire body, if not slightly longer — and adjusting your position so you were lying down and curled up against his skin. "Rest well, Emanator. I shall take good care of you until you wake."

"W- Wait… your name… please…"

You wanted to find out at least one thing before you inevitably joined the rest of the universe, and if the information happened to be something as small as the being's name, then so be it.

"My name… Ah, I haven't been called by it in so long."

Your eyelids shut close as your body finally plunged into the depths of dreams.

"Call me Sunday, Emanator."

[tossawary]

When writing fanfiction, there are a lot of unknowns surrounding Mobei-Jun that I answer based on what I think is compelling, funny, and/or contrasts well against SQH | Airplane Bro. (Sometimes, based on what contrasts interestingly and/or hilariously against Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu.) The choices I make for MBJ also depend on what suits that particular story.

An interesting question: "What kind of literature does Mobei-Jun like?" He's Airplane Bro's Ideal Man / Dream Guy! It's fun to think about what Mobei-Jun's relationship might be to fiction.

One choice that I've pulled a few times now is having Mobei-Jun be functionally illiterate, mostly because I think that situation is an interesting / amusing contrast to the guy who technically wrote the world into existence. Airplane Bro was cranking out thousands of words per day to eat, selling out his honest passion for literature, and Mobei-Jun can't / doesn't read.

There are lots of different potential reasons for this! Maybe Mobei-Jun is dyslexic. Maybe he desperately needs reading glasses and doesn't realize it. (Yes, maybe half of his glaring is just squinting.) Maybe his education was really bad because his family tried to murder him too many times. Maybe he just doesn't have any interest in fiction or in reading as a hobby in general, because paper / writing is rare in the Demon Realm for a variety of reasons and he's been busy building more relevant skills.

(Airplane Bro is shocked and offended, yes, but mostly because Mobei-Jun somehow successfully hid being unable to read from him for two or more decades. All of those "you read it" and "you write it" orders suddenly make so much sense.)

Another direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" that I've been enjoying lately as a premise is that Mobei-Jun is the sort of person who would have genuinely enjoyed "Proud Immortal Demon Way". But, like, in a weird way. Like, maybe Mobei-Jun isn't there for the women or the power fantasy, but he's fascinated by the cage of dissatisfaction, misery, and cruelty that the protagonist is building around himself using empty pleasures and merciless vengeance. Mobei-Jun is there for the tragedy. Everyone else in the comments section would think that he's a weirdo for different reasons, including Airplane Bro, but Mobei-Jun is (by accident) operating on a level where he sees the vision.

Alternate direction on "Mobei-Jun would like PIDW, actually": maybe he would like it because he actually loves trashy drama and stupid catfights. He's there for the comedy. He grew up in an environment where his father stole his uncle's wife and his own uncle tried to kill him multiple times, after all. In PIDW itself, right-hand man Mobei-Jun somehow successfully suffered years upon years of Luo Binghe's harem nonsense, and maybe Mobei-Jun was having the time of his life watching Sha Hualing start shit in the harem, actually!

Maybe in a Modern AU, Airplane Bro would try to sound intelligent and cultured by talking to his rich boss / boyfriend about classy literature, only to find out that Mobei-Jun basically only watches reality television competitions where people are constantly trying to tear each other's hair out for money. If people aren't screaming in each other's faces over a spilled glass of wine, throwing plates at each other over a stolen boyfriend or a ruined wedding, or backstabbing each other via wardrobe sabotage to get ahead, then Mobei-Jun is bored. Fighting matches or extremely dangerous sports are also fine, though, sure. (Airplane Bro doesn't like any of this stuff. He's a fantasy novel guy. He has no idea how to react to this.)

Another funny direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" is that maybe "Proud Immortal Demon Way" wouldn't actually be weird ENOUGH for Mobei-Jun's tastes. Maybe Mobei-Jun would be like that guy who claims "if I can guess the twist, then it's not suspense - suspense is when I don't know what's going to happen next, period" and reads long-running, amateur, foreign, abstract web-novels that he has to put through an online translator himself. Maybe in a Modern AU with this opinion, Mobei-Jun loyally watches telenovelas and Bollywood soap operas. Airplane Bro comes into the room and says, "Wow, not even any subtitles? You can understand what they're saying?" and Mobei-Jun says sincerely, "No. You have to figure out what's happening without them. This is the intended viewing experience."

[creelarke]

There’s a new button on tumblr app (the diamond icon), that pops up when you open the app or the site on your desktop, asking you to join tumblr premium.

I was looking through the benefits users were promised if they paid for the subscription. So far things were normal until I came across this one

So… the thing is that tumblr’s current limits are 1,000 likes and 250 posts (this includes both original posts and reblogs) per day, that’s a pretty insane number. Because yeah it’s pretty unlikely for someone to like a thousand posts or make up to 250 posts in one day (or if it does happen to someone then it’s still highly unlikely for most people to often hit the limits), which is why it makes me think tumblr is going to lower their current limits to lowkey ‘force’ people to pay for their premium services.

If that’s the case (I hope it’s not), then yeah tumblr is going to absolutely lose a lot of its users.

Listen, I know tumblr hasn’t been doing well financially lately, which is why the staff seem to be trying to promote ad-free service and the premium thing, but lol I promise you, lowering limits and forcing people to pay to avoid getting daily limits or making it nearly impossible for people to scroll through posts without getting bombarded by dozens of ads won’t fix their financial situation. If anything, it will drive thousands of users away, most of whom have been on tumblr for more than a decade.

I’d love to help support the staff and this hell site the best I could, if I could. Because despite everything this place is still the only platform on which I am most comfortable being myself and talking about my interests with friends I’ve made on here. But forcing people to pay isn’t a way to do it.

@staff please don’t destroy this. We like being here and we’d like to subscribe and support you guys so you could keep this place up and running. But forcing your users to pay isn’t the way.

[ghoularaki]

baby's breath | 1

↠  summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.

↠ word count: 4,719

↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, noncon/dubcon, daddy kink, forced infantilism, pet play, age gap, death threats, human trafficking, bdsm

Proudly you could say, you were doing well by yourself. Life hasn't been the kindest to you. By the age of eighteen you had been kicked out of your home over ten times. To say the relationship between your family was rocky would be an understatement. For a couple years now, you hopped from place to place. 

In the current climate, you were having trouble finding an apartment to live in so you either slept in your car or spent your day in the university library. Residing in the dorms simply wasn’t an option as your scholarship wouldn’t cover the nearly ten-thousands of dollars it would be. And you weren’t about to send yourself in further into debt. 

You supposed this was expected of going to such a prestigious college town, but your options were limited. Wracking a hand down your face, you were barely paying attention when a voice called your name.

“Y/n! Is that you?” The voice called from the left of you. 

Looking up from where you were about to open the door to a coffee shop you frequented, just to spot a face you hadn’t seen since you were a preteen. 

“Mr. Smith?” 

With his stature he made quick work to close the distance to you. The man had barely changed even after the decade you last saw him. 

He laughed and waved his hand flippantly, “Please, call me Erwin.”

Slightly uncomfortable, you said, “How are you, Erwin?” You never really did the best with small talk. 

The egregious man easily put a hand over your head to fully open the door. “Come, let’s catch up over coffee.”

Already too late to refuse, you walked closely behind and followed his lead. Erwin picked a spot near the window with two wooden chairs. The coffee shop was quaint with a scheme of different clashing furniture. On lucky days you could snag the cushioned recliner. Painted on the circle table in front of you two was a faded sunflower and tiny, white flowers. As he sat down, the rickety chair groaned from his mass. 

Settling in your seat, Erwin was already looking at you, a whimsical expression on his face. “What do you want, I’ll order for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” You bent down to grab your bag, but he raised a hand to stop you.

“I insist.”

Leaving you no room to resist, you replied, “I will just have a hot chocolate.” 

A chuckle left him at what you assumed was because of the childish request. You weren’t privy to coffee and the tea here wasn’t the best. He got up to order your drinks and you fiddled with your phone while waiting for him. 

Tapping your phone against your forehead, you questioned how you got yourself in this situation. There was nothing wrong with Erwin, it’s merely because he was friends with your father. You didn’t want to judge him based on your strained relationship, but you barely remembered Erwin beside brief glimaces. He was a suave man who knew how to command a room. Obviously, with how he got you to join him for coffee without even lifting a finger. It might have more to say about you than him.

“Here’s your drink,” Shooting up from your slouched position, Erwin approached with both cups. His was a ceramic mug with swirling black and white designs. It suited him. Yours was a dainty, pink and ivory china tea cup. Even as the years passed, he saw you as a little girl. 

Going back to his seat, he took a sip of his coffee. “I must say, you have grown. A lot. I almost didn’t recognize you. You really have grown into a beautiful woman.”

Coughing, your face heated up enough to cook an egg on it. “I- uh thanks. You don’t look any different.”

He really didn’t, despite him being in his forties, he surely didn’t look it. Crow’s feet crinkled at his eyes and fine lines imprinted on his forehead and near the corners of his lips, but besides that he didn’t age a bit from your childhood. 

Erwin’s bushy eyebrow quirked up in amusement, “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Realizing how insulting that can come off, you laughed and explained yourself. “Yes, it was supposed to be a compliment.”

Taking it in stride, he gestured for you to drink your hot chocolate. You blew on it and sipped on the chocolatey beverage, humming, content with the flavor. 

“So what have you been up to? Last time I spoke to your father he said you had left home.”

You rolled your eyes with scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.”

“I’m taking it, he kicked you out again?” 

Even with the decade of not seeing him, he knew your family never really favored you. You weren’t a problem child per se, you just had no qualms of standing up for yourself compared to your jelly-spined siblings. 

“When doesn’t he,” You joked and you were met with a chortle, but his face showed concern. 

“Are you holding up?” 

You hated how the tone shifted to something serious. Playing it off, you smiled, “Besides with my History homework, I think I’m doing just fine.” 

Erwin reached over the table and placed his hand over yours. His palm easily engulfed your hand. Warmth spread from his skin to yours. “If you need help, please don’t be a stranger. And for the homework, why don’t you come over tomorrow and I can help. I am a professor, you know?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,” You grimaced, unsure of whether or not to accept his help. On one hand, you hadn’t seen him in years. On the other, you really did need assistance. If you failed this class, you’ll lose your scholarship and you couldn't afford that. 

He reached behind himself and pulled his phone from his back pocket. Unlocking it swiftly with his thumb, he pulled out a new contact and nodded his head towards the phone. “Put in your phone number and I will give you my address. Unless you need a ride?”

You shook your head, “No, no. I can get there myself. Thank you so much.”

Plugging your phone number in, you handed the contraption back to him. His thumb flew across the screen and your own phone buzzed against the table. On your lock screen you spied he already gave you an address and to meet him at one PM. 

“Does that work for you?” 

  Smiling up at him, you quipped, “Certainly. See you then.”

Glancing back at his phone, he sighed, “I must go or else I will be late for my next class. If anything comes up, don’t be afraid to message me. Goodbye, Y/n.”

With that, he got up from his seat and briskly walked out of the coffee shop. Through the glass, he had a certain twang to his walk as he approached his fancy, black car. Almost like he was giddy. Once he was out of view, you slammed your head against the table and groaned. Screw you and your inability to say no. At least you were getting a free tutor out of this. 

“Rich fucking bastard,” You muttered under your breath as you pulled up to his home.

His house was old styled with light colored bricks and black framing. The abode strayed from civilization. His neighbors were across the acres of woods surrounding the area. Between the foliage, their lights peeked through, but still distant. 

The driveway was paved and you thanked his income as you had no clue if your car could handle a dirt road. The old model had been with you for years, but it was reaching its end. Parked by his own car and you observed how there was another car by his. The model was a matching hue, but was a medium sized truck instead. You tilted your head in perplexity as to why a professor would need such a vehicle. Especially as you spotted various tools in the bed. 

Wisping away the dwindling thoughts, you tugged your ratty backpack from your passenger seat. As you stepped out, you felt so drab compared to the scenery. Slinging the backpack higher over your shoulder, you walked up and rapped on the door. You debated whether or not to text Erwin you were, but the thought of him escorting you from your car to his porch was humiliating. You were a big girl, you could go up to a door and knock. 

The man who opened the door certainly was not Erwin. He was definitely shorter than him, but the way he crossed his arms, you could tell with how the muscle rippled under the fabric, not to underestimate him. The man’s hair was inky strands parted to the side that fell under his eyes. Silver clashed with your own irises, sharp and analytical. He picked you apart as much as you did him. 

“You must be the brat.” If his words weren’t so belittling you would say his voice was soothing. A deep, dark timbre pleasant to your ears. Likened to how the ocean culls. 

Your face twitched and decided to ignore his taunt, “Where’s Erwin?”

The man’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t decipher as he opened the door further. Taking that as you cue, you walked further into the home. The interior was just as grandeur as the outside. Muted colors were splattered across the living. Rich people loved their minimalism and you weren’t surprised the home barely had anything of importance in it. There were picture frames of Erwin with other people you didn’t recognize besides the man who directed from the mud room. 

“Take off your shoes,” He instructed, not answering your question. 

Toeing off your sneakers, socked feet welcomed the cool carpet. As you opened your mouth to repeat yourself, Erwin perked up from his recliner in the living room. Thumbing the off button of his phone, he placed it on the cushions and went to greet you. 

“I see you met Levi.”

“You could say that.”

The man you now know named Levi walked off with a grunt into the kitchen. What a charmer. Erwin beckoned you over with his hand like you would a dog. Patting the empty spot on the couch, you walk over and take a seat. Slacking your shoulder, your bag tumbled to your side. 

“Is there anything you would like to drink?” Erwin offered. 

“Just water is fine.”

As the older man went to fetch the beverage, Levi called from the kitchen, “I also have some tea brewing?”

You perked up at that. Levi didn’t give you the impression of someone who liked tea, but the more you think about it, it suited him. He did give off grumpy, old man vibes. 

“What kind?”

Instead of answering, he came out of the kitchen with a tray of two tea cups and a fancy kettle. The metal and china clinked together as he placed it down. A sweet, mild aroma filled the air as he poured both cups half way. You spied the odd way he held the cup around the brim. 

Levi sat on the recliner adjacent to the couch Erwin was once in. Reaching over for your own drink, you sipped it and let out a happy hum at the taste. His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t really decipher. Though, you assumed delight as he adjusted himself closer to the edge of his seat. 

“This is really good! Is this green tea?”

“No, white.” 

Erwin and Levi glanced at each other. You ignored it. The cushion dipped when Erwin sat at a respectful distance from you. You were caged between the two older men. Yet, you weren’t uncomfortable in the least. “So what are you having trouble with?”

In the time you had reconnected with Erwin, he had helped you get back on your feet. After what seemed to be the eleventh time coming over his house, you let it slip, you were living out of your car. The shock befallen on the man’s face surprised you. He seemed almost offended you went so long without telling him of your living situation. It wasn’t like you were keeping it a secret from him. The topic simply never came up in conversation. 

Immediately after hearing the news, Erwin brought you into his home office and helped you search for apartments. You refused and explained you couldn’t get one not out of choice, but because you didn’t make enough money or have a credit score. 

“I can help pay for it if that’s the issue,” He said casually.

“That’s asking for way too much.”

Twisting himself to face you in his rolling chair right next to yours, he continued, “If it was too much, I wouldn’t be offering it.”

“Yes, and I’m saying it’s too much,” You emphasized the ‘I’m’ to express how uncomfortable it made you feel.

For the first time in your life, you watched Erwin’s face steel in annoyance. His nostrils heaved out a slight flare and his thick eyebrow ticked. “You’re incredibly stubborn, you know that?”

Smiling, you offered a quick, “Yep!” 

“Since you refuse to let me pay for the apartment, at least let me find you a better job so then that issue is tackled,” He opened a new tab and put in his own bank, “Right now, let’s sign you up for credit card.” 

Unable to refuse the more palpable help, you followed along as he lectured about credit scores. In a couple months, you were able to become an almost fully functional adult, no longer needing to sleep in your car or shower in the school’s gym. Your apartment was quaint and small, and only a ten minute walk from the campus. 

Even though Erwin got you back up on your feet, you still frequently came to him and Levi’s home for school help. And for a more embarrassing reason, those two were your only source of companionship. Having two grown men, one two decades older and the other almost two decades older, be your friends must seem pathetic. Yet, you couldn’t complain when you noticed your favorite food always stocked in the pantry or how Levi let you drink his precious tea. 

Both men had a key to your apartment in case of emergency and also gave you your own copy of a house key for the same reason. In a very long time, you felt safe, warm and protected. 

Despite having a key, you still knocked on the front door. Rocking from heel to toe, you were greeted with Levi instead of Erwin. Very similar to the first time you visited. 

“Erwin is going to be late. Shitty department heads had to hold a meeting,” Levi’s gruff voice explained. 

“That’s fine, just more time for me to bother you.”

The older man clicked his tongue. 

Levi was a tough person to pinpoint. He was grumpy, stoic, cussed like a sailor, but oddly gentle and patient. He could easily read the room and fill in what was left gaping. As much as he put up a cold front, he showed his affections in tiny gestures. He would act annoyed at you or Erwin’s playful behavior, but he never did push either of you away. 

“I’m going to make tea. Don’t make a mess.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not a child. I’m not going to start throwing shit.”

He swung his head around the corner and glowered at you, “Knock off your shitty attitude.”

“Knock off treating me like a baby. Both you and Erwin do it.”

“Because you are a baby,” He went back to the tea and you followed him into the kitchen.

You hopped on the counter next to the stove and started swinging your legs. Levi glanced at you, before going back to the kettle. 

“How am I a baby? I’m literally in my twenties.”

With a gentle hand, he gripped your calf. You stopped in shock. Not once had he ever touched you. His palm engulfed your shin and a shiver went up your spine at the warmth. You attempted to move your leg, but it didn’t budge. Levi clutched onto the appendage further. 

“I don’t remember seeing an adult swing their legs like a kid on a swing.”

You opened your mouth to counter, but shut it once again with a ‘hmph!’ He did have a point. 

He removed himself from you as quickly as he clung on. The shape of his hand lingered. 

“I-I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

Leaping off the counter, you didn’t let Levi answer as you barrelled towards the hall. It was hard to describe the sensation settling in your chest. Sure, the touch was innocent enough, but how he easily held you down with a firm hand was discombobulating. 

As you skittered deeper into the home, you noticed a door slightly ajar. During your stay here, you never really did stray from any other places besides the living room, the bathroom and Erwin’s office. Everything else was a mystery in the large home. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you slowly approached the door. One foot in front of the other, your hand stayed outstretched. Just as your hand cradled the knob, the door slammed closed. You screeched and jumped. 

A looming presence encompassed your hunched frame. Turning your head, there stood Erwin with an overly pleasant smile on his face. His arm was outstretched where he closed the door with a large, forceful palm. 

“Let’s not overstay our welcome, shall we?” 

You gulped, goosebumps shot all over your skin. The air was sub zero as you trembled. Something shifted out of place and it wasn’t the doorframe. 

Since the day you almost found out what was in the other room, the men appeared to be on edge. You tested it while both men were preoccupied and said room was now locked. Whatever was in there, they did not want you finding out. This only furthered your curiosity. 

As the days bled more into each other, Erwin became overbearing. Since exam season had arrived once more, you were too busy to visit the luxurious home. What was a couple visits a week, turned into maybe once a week, if that. When you did come over Erwin would hound you about living with him since you said both working and going to school was wearing you down. Of course, you refused. You finally obtained stability and freedom, why would you give that away?

You held your head in your hands, sitting in the chair Erwin bought you for his office. Stress was getting to the both of you. 

“Erwin, for the last time, I am not going to move in here,” You glanced up from your slouched position. 

He grew so much taller from this angle. Like a god sitting on top of his cloud. 

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for me to provide for you. I have more than enough money to go around, it won’t hinder me in any way.”

You sighed, “Yes, I get that. We both get that. But you aren’t seeing my side at all!”

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, “Please enlighten me.”

You wanted to pull your hair out. This wasn’t something you haven’t told him before. “You are treating me like I am a defenseless child that needs to be coddled. I am thankful for the help since without you I would probably still be living in my car, but that’s not the point. I am stable and I don’t need you to hold my hand anymore.”

“So you admit it; you wouldn’t be a functional adult without me.”

Ire built in your throat and you spat it out, “I would have never accepted it if you were just going to throw it back in my fucking face.”

“Language.”

Your mouth dropped in a disbelieving smile. You launched yourself backward from the chair to assert yourself taller than him. It did very little. 

Pointing your finger in his face, his complexion stayed unamused, “Right there. Stop belittling me. We are two adults having a conversation, treat me as so.”

He emerged from his seat and took back his place as the one with a height advantage. You were easily knocked down a couple pegs.  

“An adult wouldn’t shove fingers in people’s faces,” His tone stern, tittering towards anger. 

“Can you blame me! I get it, you are old enough to be my dad, but I don’t appreciate you acting like you are.”

“I am hardly acting like your father.”

“You’re twisting my words!” 

His nostrils flared, “Watch your tone.”

“Fuck off.” The choice words weren’t probably the smartest, but you were at your limit as he was. 

All you saw were icy blue eyes darken before your face swung to the side and your collapsed into the office desk. Your cheek caught on his paper weight. You fell into the wood with an audible clunk and bang. Clutching on your injured cheek, you glared up at Erwin. 

“Nope,” Was all you said.

Detaching yourself from the wood, you cradled your face as you stumbled out of the office into the hallway.

“Y/n, wait!” Erwin called from behind, but you only shuffled faster.

Blood stabbed your tongue. You licked your bottom lip. The force had cut the skin as well. 

“At least let me clean the wound,” He begged.

Now in the living room, Levi poked his head out from where he was sitting on the couch. His eyes caught the tears bubbling over and how you cradled your face.

“The wound?” Levi’s focus was now on a stressed Erwin trying to hover over you. “What the fuck happened?”

Erwin tried to answer, but you beat him to it, “He hit me and I’m leaving.”

At that, he shot up from the couch and rounded the side, “Whoa, whoa, slow down. What did you do?”

“I-I don’t know,” Erwin was in a daze. 

Levi walked over to you and tried to pry your hand from your swelling cheek, but you shook your head away from his grasp. 

“I’m leaving,” You repeated and shoved past him.

Before he could even get a word out, you slammed the door closed and ran to your car. Shakely grasping your keys, you unlocked your door and slumped into the seat. You slammed your hands against the wheel and screeched. Tears streamed down, irritating the wound. 

Roughly wiping away the salty water, you buckled yourself up and put the car into drive. As you rounded the driveway, you swore to yourself to be smarter next time. Depending on others was a debt you couldn’t afford. 

You wanted to claw your skin off, screech, throw shit—anything to release the pent up wrath inside your gut. It had been weeks since you promised yourself you would never come back to Erwin and Levi’s household, and yet, here you were. During the time you eradicated yourself from their lives, Erwin had blown up your phone with varying types of messages. They stemmed from pleading to him demanding you answer him. Levi only offered one message the whole time.

“Make sure to keep the wound clean.”

The gesture was sweet, but in the moment, it felt infantilizing. You knew how to take care of a tiny cut. After the fiftieth call, you blocked Erwin’s number. 

Radio silence met you for a couple days until you realized you couldn’t access your bank account. Then you got a call that you were fired from work. Next was the message you got from your landlord that you have an eviction notice despite paying rent on time. The last straw was when you tried to call your landlord back only to be told your phone had been shut off. 

“Idiot. You’re a fucking idiot,” You muttered to yourself. You had trusted Erwin way too much with your finances and now you were stranded. You barely even had enough gas in your tank to get you out of exact proximity to their house if shit went down. 

Slamming the door closed, you marched your way over to the entrance and banged on it as hard as you could. As if expecting you, Levi opened the door. His face was a lot more haggard than the last time you saw him. His under eyes were darker, the purplish hue sunk deep into the skin. 

“Where the fuck is he?”

Levi merely sighed and sidestepped to let you go on your rampage. There, sitting in the living room, Erwin had his ankle resting on his knee. Carefree as ever. 

“Care to tell me why the fuck I can’t get access to my bank account or my landlord won’t let me into my own goddamn apartment!” Your voice bellowed and sunk into the walls.

Erwin’s expression of cold steel did not waver in your anger. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I’m not here to play fucking games, Asshat,” You sneered. Whatever patience and timidness you had when first meeting him dissipated. You wanted your life back. 

“Watch it,” Erwin ordered. He arose from his seat, taking the high ground once more. From behind you, Levi made himself comfortable against the wall with arms crossed. 

“Now is not the time! I don’t know what you’re trying to do but I need money and my apartment to live, Erwin.”

“I can take care of you.” Like a broken record, he refused to see reason.

You clutched your head in frustration. Nails dug into your scalp as you fight off the tears threatening to keel over. “Listen to me,” You begged. 

“I have been listening and I don’t see why you would rather suffer than let me give you a life of comfort.”

You closed your eyes and moved your hands to dig your heels into the sockets. Letting out a shaking exhale, you said, “I am not going to throw my life away to be forced into a home where I am nothing better than a dog. A comfortable dog, but one nonetheless.”

“It wouldn’t be forever, just until you’re done with school,” Erwin tried to negotiate but you saw through it. 

“And then it will be until I’m done with grad school, then pushed further until I find a job that suits my degree, and then it's until the income is high enough for your standards. You will never be satisfied.”

Erwin’s jaw ticked. There’s nothing to be said as you laid out in front of him exactly what he planned to do. He only wanted to give you the world and you wanted nothing of it. 

“See! You can’t even deny it,” You laughed out loud, in hysterics. 

“You’re acting like I’m shackling you to the basement. All I’m asking is that you live here with me—us—so you can finish your schooling worry free.”

“A decorated cage is still a cage.” 

“Listen here,” He began as he approached with thunderous steps. 

You stumbled backwards before solidifying your footing. You weren’t going to allow him to intimidate you. 

“No, you listen here. I am done with you. If I have to, I will live in my car again. I am leaving.”

As Erwin comprehended your threat wasn’t empty, he glanced at Levi who stayed silent the whole time. Similar to a panther on the prowl, waiting. He kicked off the wall and sauntered over to your form.

Attempting to spin around to run out the house, Levi slung an arm across your neck and dug his forearm into your throat. He squeezed as you scrambled to slide your fingers in between your neck and the muscle. Your fingernails were no match for his ropey tendons.

Obviously you struggled, but it's nothing against the burly man. Even with his stature, he was stronger than Erwin. With his free hand he tugged a syringe from his pocket. He bit off the cap with his teeth and spat it out off into the room. The sharp prick hit the fragile skin of your flesh. Something was depleted into your veins. Your lips tingled as the oxygen left your lungs and the room spun round and round. Nausea crept in as your eyes crossed.

“See you soon, Pet.”