#this isn’t even getting into the brands rich people make for themselves

[lacewise]

Huh, I didn’t realize people couldn’t tell the stuff that super rich people just replace (eg phones, etc) and the stuff they actually get super high quality (most appliances, some laptops, clothes, shoes, etc). Like… we’ve gone so far back to class separation the middle class thinks the upper is buying the same products as them again.

To be clear, they’re not. I know which clothing brands the rich shop from because I grew up poor so I don’t have the same class illusions or biases and I’m super nosy.

Once a brand starts to get worse to appeal to a broader clientele and sell overpriced stock, they cash out and move onto the next one (this is actually the real problem).

they’re just not telling you where they’re buying the stuff they actually use, because they don’t want you to know. Because they’re classist, but also because they can make money selling you stuff they’re tricking you into seeing as commodities.

This is a problem that some experts and specialists have had with terms like “late stage capitalism”, because, much like the rich, it’s convincing you old problems are brand new, unsolvable problems.

It’s also why I tend to use “unregulated capitalism”, “growth capitalism”, etc.

Anyway that’s basic economics.

Don’t assume that the only things for purchase are the ones being advertised. Word of mouth works even better, and keeps brands and products out of the mainstream consciousness longer.

[corollaservant]

Retail Therapy // Dabi x f!reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Synopsis: Working as a sales assistant in a high end sneaker shop is boring. But you're about to be taught otherwise.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (idk about this one), degradation, humiliation, illegal recording, mentions of crimes, ableist remarks (not from reader), harassment, dumbification

A/N: kinda thought of the LoV as streamers (but not like gamers). thx anon in spam blog for encouraging this dumb idea, idk what this says about us:)

Another boring day at work. But honestly, what were you expecting? 

You didn’t know anyone who had fun working in retail. Not that this would be your job forever, as you planned on quitting and you know... try something else. Dropping out of college may have not been a smart move but you were confident that you’d find your path, somewhere, sometime. The store was never busy, the pricing and interior design repelling most passers-by and only attracting a couple influencer kids (you often laughed at the term) and their rich parents or a few unknown athletes in an effort to buy designer and make a better name for themselves. High end clients never showed up in person, they had no reason to, no one shopped at boutiques anymore—all the more sneaker ones. 

You would often kill time by watching stuff online (who didn’t), looking at the latest socialite news in various media outlets, the world was going downhill, you thought, as you absentmindedly sipped from your water bottle. Articles wrote about villains, social pariahs, as they’d branded them, parading power by killing innocent civilians ‘for the fun of it’. 

Two shadows at the door caused you to look up. Customers? No way. Your heart stopped for a second as both walked through the door. Was this some kind of a twisted game of fate? Who didn’t fucking know them, Dabi and his subordinate, the man he had on a leash, even though he was the supposed boss, Shigaraki Tomura. What the fuck where they doing here? 

The taller man, which you knew as Dabi, wore a dark blue jacket with the collars ripped while his patched purple skin stood out. Surgically attached staples (or where these piercings?) moved when he smiled. Despite the menacing appearance, you had to admit he looked quite... elegant? His shorter companion didn't fail to catch your eye either, a hood pulled low over his face and wearing a miserably plain outfit. Under other circumstances, you’d throw guys like them out the store—this wasn’t some charity but you quickly reconsidered, once you remembered their recent streaming. Shigaraki filmed Dabi burning up a whole forest just to kill some time as they laughed. Cool, yeah. Problem was they had accidentally murdered some poor people on a picnic, who they’d later find and film, joking about how ‘today was not the day for a picnic, guys’. The two villains would livestream the whole thing on various platforms, other times they’d upload it later on a channel, where perverse comments encouraged and gave them both views. They obviously had a clear immoral viewpoint on heroes (they despised the filth society had created on false pretense) and never failed to shout it even louder. 

‘’Hello, sweetheart.’’ Dabi greeted you, approaching the register. His loyal dog followed close, hands in his pockets and a sly smile. 

‘’Me and my...friend would like to check out a few shoes today, we’re feeling generous.’’ The friend didn't sound very friendly.

You regained composure and whispered a ‘’y-yes, sure!’’ as they looked at you. Dabi's eyes diverted to your work uniform, a blazer with exposed bust and a tight pencil skirt (yeah yeah, you knew this was a high end sneaker store but rules were rules and you had to attract the filthy rich somehow...manager's words, not yours)

‘’W-what would you guys like to see?’’ You stammered, their proximity not helping. 

‘’Sweetie got a speech impediment?’’ Shigaraki asked no one in particular before Dabi interrupted.

‘’Don’t listen to this asshole, he isn’t getting any so he’s always pissed off.’’ The first scowled but remained silent. 

Dabi seemed... kind? You thought as you looked at him and shyly moved to the display shelves. 

‘’S–so, could you guys tell me what you’re looking for exactly?’’ You couldn’t believe these two had to come to your place for fucking shoes—somehow the thought of villains having to buy clothes had never really crossed your mind. 

‘’We don’t fucking care, sweetheart.’’ Dabi said looking directly at your chest, eyeing your tits. Such a pervert, thinking you wouldn’t notice. 

The whole time Shigaraki was on his phone, which he held in a bizzare way, it was known his quirk involved his hands but you never bothered to care, both these guys were murderous and you possessed no ‘quirk’ whatsoever so it really wouldn’t matter if it came down to physical altercations. 

‘’We have t–these ones..’’ You lifted your arm up to show Dabi a new pair you got in last week as his eyes travelled to your bent ass, skirt accentuating the curves even more, as he smirked to himself. 

‘’T–they collaborated two brands for this.’’ You murmured, not sure he heard you. His presence made you anxious, you knew what he was capable of and definitely wanted to live another day. 

‘’Oh yeah?’’ Dabi said. ‘’How much do these cost? They’re fucking ugly.’’

You opened your mouth to retort but settled with a ‘’T–two grand.’’ It came off unsure and hesitant. 

‘’These are dead. Two grand for these abominations? Hey Shiggy, come look!’’ He told the man who had been too consumed with his phone to listen to the conversation.

‘’Look at that shit man, can you believe trash heroes buy that for two grand?’’ He questioned as the latter lifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah I really don’t give a fuck, buy your shit and go, I have content to upload.’’

‘’Please excuse him, baby, he’s just a weirdo who gets off on livestreaming the people he decays, don’t worry we won’t take long.’’ 

Decaying? Livestreams? And why did he call you baby? These guys had to be joking, they were openly talking about murdering people for fun and you suddenly felt sick, your stomach with its contents turned over.

You had been silent, looking at them in horror, while Dabi broke the silence.

‘’Awwh, c’mon now, I’ll be nice. I think I might like these.’’ He said and pointed to a pair of black plain sneakers, they’d suit him, you thought despite the predicament.

You must’ve not reacted at all so he spoke again.

‘’Are you slow, sweetheart? I said I want to try these on, in 15.’’ The tone made you immediately snap out of your thoughts and take a step back—he felt too close through your peripherals. 

‘’L–let me check in the b-back for you guys..’’ You apologized, you couldn’t even turn around but somehow got to the storage room. Fuck, of course he had to be wearing one of the largest freaking sizes, your store never brought these as no one ever bought them, what was he, a fucking giant? You were frantically searching through storage drawers and anything scattered you could find across the room but without success, the pair was sold out (was a basic choice) and the sizing available was 13 and below. Shit, you cursed, as you were about to exit, when you saw two figures at the door startling you. 

‘’What’s taking you so long? Lost in the hallway?’’ Dabi mocks, as Shigaraki snorts. 

‘’I- I– couldn’t f-find the ones you’re looking for.’’ You avert your eyes and Dabi’s smirk wavers.

‘’What does that mean, baby?’’ He furrows his brows. ‘’You should be grateful I even chose this shitty store in the first place. It’s not enough you charge poor customers two grand for shoes I can find in the dumpster, now you’re telling me you don’t have the one pair I actually liked?’’ He raises his tone as he has you practically pinned against the door. You could’ve sworn the other guy's laughing but the room’s spinning and you try to take a deep breath. 

‘’I- i’m sorry, guys, p-please let me try to find s-something else- for you, I–’’

‘’No, I think you can just shut the fuck up now. I don’t want excuses from that pretty mouth of yours.’’ His words hurt as you try blinking your tears away—it used to help but not when they’re flooding your eyes like a stream anyway. You feel like this could actually be your end and matter of fact, anyone would know soon enough, as you’d probably also get livestreamed while they’re at it.

‘’Soo.. let me get this straight, you can’t find a proper excuse, you don’t have my shoes, you make me and Tomura wait while you're blabbering some bullshit and you scam stupid cunts for money. Does your boss know he’s hired the dumbest whore on the planet or do you fuck him to keep your job? And for a shitty job like this? You reaally gotta be desperate.’’ He finishes and now the tears are well formed and fall from your eyes, as you sob—you literally sob, ashamed and hurt, these men didn't even know you and here they were throwing words around because of a pair of fucking shoes, you feel useless and embarrassed, as you choke out some ‘I'm sorry’s.

None of them seem to care about your tears or your stuffed nose, snots falling down your chest and staining the work blazer and Dabi continues in an amused tone.

‘’Stop crying, it's pathetic. Be of use instead, will you?’’ He sighs and looks at Shigaraki, who had been watching his phone intently the whole time.

‘’Tomura, how do you think bitches like her pay when they can’t satisfy my needs?’’ He asks the man, who contemplates for a second, kind of clueless and annoyed, interrupted from the live streaming of the rest of the LoV. 

‘’Ugh.. I don't know, kill her? Listen man, we don’t have much time, we have to go meet the rest, so whatever it is, make it quick. I want to show my face in Toga’s stream, she has too many hot bitches watching.’’

This man is out of his mind.

‘’Shiggy, you fucking incel, it’s not like you’re going to fuck any of them, so how about you put your scrambled, decayed brain to good use?’’ Dabi responds, all while you’re looking at the exchange horrified, where is this going?

‘’Well...since apparently I’m the smart one here, I’ll tell you both how this is gonna end up.’’ Dabi exhales, he sounds bored but his eyes gleam, he seems amused. ‘’You can’t offer me my shoes? You offer me your body, it’s not like you have anything else going on for you. I fuck you and your little cunt and you–’’ he turns his attention to Shigaraki, ‘’–you’re going to film the whole fucking thing. Should grant you enough pussy, once I let you participate.’’

-

You want to scream, you really do. But there’s no words coming out, the phone’s too far away, the storage room's hidden in plain sight and there’s two guys ganging up on you so what’s the only thing you do? Beg.

‘’P-please, Dabi, I can—I can help you find something else, we have-’’ You blabber but he cuts you off.

‘’Wow doll, surprised your dumb brain memorized the name. But I don’t blame you, I would too.’’ He’s inching closer to you, as you back off, each step he takes leads you towards the end of the room. The closet touches your back—you’re pinned under him, the shelves hit against your back.

‘’Got the camera on?’’ He tells Shigaraki, without turning to look at him, while the latter scoffs.

‘’Yeah, all set.’’ You can see him holding his phone and wait impatiently.

‘’Now..’’ Dabi says, ‘’take that nasty shirt off, God, who dresses whores like you up? Tits out and everything for the public to see.’’ He says as your shaking hands start unbuttoning the work blazer; you had no shirt under it, it was a hot day and you hadn’t bothered, it’s not like customers were frequent. 

He’s so close that your arms touch his shirt as you slowly unbutton it and the blazer falls down your shoulders, your bare tits in full display not just for him but for Shigaraki’s camera to film as well. His eyes rake you up and down, your cheeks stained with tears, your hair disheveled with strands that stick out in opposite directions as your tits quiver on your chest. It’s swift, but you notice how his turquoise eyes widen—not a lot, since they’re heavy lidded and half patched anyway.

‘’Fuck, these look nice..’’ He comments as he brings up both hands to grope them while you gasp. His hands are not as cold as you expected, they’re large, slender and painted black as he starts circling his wrists while still at a fair distance. You moan and he smirks, Shigaraki switching spots to get a better angle. 

Dabi closes the distance as his face is on yours, his breath on your mouth and you close your eyes when he laughs.

‘’Aw, did you think I’d kiss you?’’ He says as you whimper frustrated but he continues ‘’Whores like you don’t deserve kisses.’’ He grabs your skirt with both hands and aggressively lowers it as you stumble trying not to fall down.

His words cut deep and you fight the urge to let another stream of tears down your face; you’d been called names in the past, but the way he talked upset you way more than anyone before. Unbeknownst to him, your felt your panties smeared, his warm hands had turned you on—the thought of you being like this disgusted you. You really were pathetic and he’d soon find out.

His hands cupped your clothed cunt as you moaned ‘’D-dabi, please–’’ to which a voice from the back laughed. You had completely forgotten about Shigaraki, the fact that he was watching (and filming) making you want to vomit.

‘’Baby, please shut the fuck up.’’ Dabi says ‘’Tomura, are you getting this?’’ But at this point Tomura was not only getting it but holding the phone with one hand while the other rubbed a bulge on his pants.

Dabi moves your panties to the side, almost ripping them apart and pushes two fingers without warning in your cunt as you choke on a moan. His fingers feel good, too full in a way and he knows how to move them inside, working his way deeper, while they’re already long.

‘’Man, you’re not gonna believe how wet she is.’’ He tells Tomura, who hums and strokes his clothed cock, phone still in his hand. 

You’re being moved up and down the shelves, his fingers penetrate your cunt with force as you feel the pressure in your core build up, you think about fucking yourself on his fingers, grinding up and down—maybe cum and have them gone?, but he brings his other hand to your neck and chokes you with precision, blocking your airway immediately: ‘’Don’t think you get to decide when to cum.’’ He says and he removes his stained hands, your arousal is brought to your face as he turns around and proudly shows the camera. 

‘’Look at this retail cockwhore guys, pussy dripping from two men she couldn’t sell shoes to!’’ He brags and you crumble, embarrassed and desperate for an end.

‘’D-dabi, p–please don’t say that!’’ You mewl and he looks down at you with pity.

‘Say what? The fucking truth? Aren’t you a little cumslut, yes or no?’’

‘’I– I–am n-not—’’

‘’I said, are you or aren’t you my little cumslut, yes - or - no?’’ He orders as you notice something small and blue igniting from his fingertips and you freeze.

‘’Say it.’’

‘’I- i am.’’ You brokenly murmur, but he needs all the words. 

‘’You’re what?’’ 

‘’Y–your cumslut..’’

‘’I need the name too, camera's on you know’’. His patience wears thin, you can tell by his tone.

‘’I-i-am--Dabi’s cumslut.’’ You look at the camera and with that he finally snaps, turning you over and grabbing you by the waist, his fingers touch your bare back, as he spanks a heated palm on you and you flinch.

‘’Good, now let’s show everyone how cumsluts like you get fucked.’’ He unzips his pants and brings his cock in between your folds. 

The sensation is intoxicating, your heat and his pre in between you while your hands are stretched to touch a shelf you can’t reach. You don't even know what you're up against, fuck, you hadn't even seen—

‘’Make sure you’re getting this.’’ is all Dabi says before abruptly pushing his cock inside you as you let out a sharp cry, he’s too big and you can’t take him at once, a pain shoots up your belly as he starts thrusting at a steady pace. 

‘’P-please ‘s too much, s-slow d-down!’’ You yell behind you but he doesn’t seem to care, as he grabs your hips harshly and pushes himself deeper, your cunt stretching to accommodate whatever it can and you thank his fingers for the prior mess they made.

‘’Fuuck, feels too good.’’ He groans as he thrusts into you. You hear a sudden whimper and look around to see Shigaraki with his cock out, moving his fist up and down his length—eyes fixated on the spectacle. 

You don’t have time to beg him to stop filming because Dabi’s slender hands are toying with your clit, his cock rips apart your insides as pads of his fingers find the bundle of nerves with ease. He teases it—not harshly, as his cock does that for you, but in light strokes, like he’s trying to tickle you and you feel yourself tremble, your cunt twitches and he feels it too apparently, because he groans ‘’Shit, you’re tight, too? Who would’ve expected it, huh..’’ as Shigaraki is starting his commentary on camera.

‘’Take a look guys, this is probably the biggest cockwhore we’ve seen... look closer! getting her loose cunt all fucked like that.’’ Dabi huffs, skin slapping sounds reverberate across the storage, as he continues his pace, cock disappearing in between your folds.

‘’Man, shut the fuck up.’’ He tells the guy behind him, ‘’her pussy’s tight as shit..or maybe I just have a big cock.’’ You can tell he smirks and you moan, it's like he's harsher now, his cruel words while they shouldn't, are bringing you closer and you can’t deny the pleasure he’s giving you, each time he belittles you or Shigaraki for the matter.

You can't even see him, but you imagine him drinking in your pathetic state: desperate, arched back, lifted skirt and abused flesh—frustrated whines and miserable attempts to sink down his cock, even when you know damn well he’s the one setting the pace.

‘’Hey, Shiggy..’’ Dabi groans, ‘’want me to let the whore fuck herself on my cock? She seems soo eager.’’ He tells Tomura, who at this point is solely focused on your ass sinking on Dabi ahead.

‘’S-sure..’’ He breathes out, too horny to care. 

Dabi stops moving, cock hard and still inside you, stretching you out regardless, as you pant frustrated. You’d been so close and he stopped once again. Fuck it, you think, you need to get your release somehow. 

You take a deep breath and start tantalizing him, cock throbs in your walls while you move and grind your hips back and forth. Dabi hisses, his hands dig in your ass, a pain from a metal on your hips—you’d definitely have marks tomorrow but it feels too good and he lets you, which surprises you.

‘’D-dabi, is she good?’’ A voice calls from behind but Dabi doesn’t answer, he just lets you do your work as you increase your pace, your legs are about to fail you but you raise yourself up and grip whatever you can find in front of you; you can hardly breathe. You think you might make yourself cum and he must be on the verge too, because he grabs you by the hair and spears his cock so deep, you want to scream—but you can't because there's not enough air in your lungs to function. ‘’Enough.’’ He spits and starts drilling himself back at his own relentless pace.

You feel numb but a known sensation spirals under you, fuck, he feels good and you suddenly wish for his hands on your clit so you beg. Again. 

‘’D-dabi, please, agh t–touch me..there.’’ 

‘’Beggars can’t be choosers, baby.’’ He smirks and picks up the pace, if that's even possible, the motion perfect for your pussy to squeeze him in tighter and while he acts all tough, a hand is back on your clit. He wants you to come undone, wants to be the one bringing you to such despair. 

‘’D-dabi!, I-I'm-hmn.. g-gonna–’’

Hairs stick to your sweaty forehead, veins pop out your hands as you cum feeling a faint knot snap, you blabber a bunch of incoherent words and tremble, shutting your eyes in shame.

He’d been waiting for this, holding himself back but he wanted your mess, your pathetic orgasm so he can let himself go with a couple final thrusts. He groans, praising your ‘’good cunt– baby..’’ before shooting his load inside—shit, he came inside, you think, this is so wrong but the sensation is tingling, almost satisfying in a twisted way.

A voice interrupts the moment when both of you turn to look at Shigaraki, cock in between a fist and a frown on his face, he seems upset.

‘’Dabi, you idiot, I wanted her too.’’ He says and Dabi looks at you, fucked out and cum oozing from your hole. His cum. 

‘’Well,’’ Dabi looks at you, ‘’would my favorite cumslut help a friend in need?’’ he smirks, ‘’Just some head, we don’t have all the time in the world, alright?’’ He smiles as you lower your gaze—fuck fuck fuck, wasn't one enough? What's the point of arguing though, one look at both of them convinces you otherwise.

‘’C-could I please have some water?’’ You try to stall, throat dry and raspy from the sounds made earlier. 

‘’Water?’’ Dabi laughs, ‘’nah...it’s too far away. Here, have this instead.’’ He says as he approaches you and swiftly moves his hands up your cunt, gathering his load and your juices and bringing the mix to your mouth. ‘’Open up.’’ He orders and your eyes widen before you realize he sticks his fingers in your mouth, coating your tongue and continues ‘’now, you can suck the incel off.’’

Your mouth isn't dry anymore—it's disgustingly covered in his salty cum but Shigaraki's too impatient to retort and already has his cock poking at your opening. He’s smaller but has nonetheless notable girth. 

‘’Mhm..not gonna last, man.’’ He warns but Dabi seriously doesn't care. Indeed, once you're forced to take Tomura in your mouth under Dabi's glare and bob your head up and down a couple times, he pants and whines, cock jerks in your mouth, as a palm with the pinky lifted rests on your head pushing it down his groin. You gag as he stretches your mouth full, the flushed tip scratches down your throat, but soon enough he comes; you can tell by the way he frantically bucks his hips up, so you remove your mouth in tears, when he loses control, this feels horrible. His cum spurts all over the place, some lands on your hair and some on his shirt. 

‘’Fuck!’’ He groans, ‘’My shirt’s stained, you whore.’’ His voice is whiny as red eyes narrow. For the first time, he manages to inflict terror upon you, his hand’s about to touch you when Dabi interrupts.

‘’Enough, she’ll give you another one, I’m sure shitty store sells some lame shirts somewhere.’’

Tomura sighs and removes his shirt. He throws it to your face and hisses.

‘’Gross, you can keep it, cumslut’’. You feel tainted and humiliated, some fresh tears wipe semen off your face, when Dabi speaks up.

‘’Tomura–’’ There's still hope in your eyes, as you turn to him.

‘’She's about to put in on Depop, you know.’’

Dabi and Tomura smirk and you wordlessly get up, something plummets inside (your heart?), as you wipe tears inside your elbow, the only clean body part of yours.

-

It’s been hours since the shift ended and they left the store, blowing you a kiss but you’re curled up in bed as you anxiously scratch your knees. You feel dirty. Empty. You remember Dabi’s hands on you, Tomura��s shirt and load in your hair, which was later thoroughly washed to the point clumps fell off, when a message appears on your phone.

It’s a message request and it reads:

How’s my favorite cockwhore doing?

You suddenly feel very nauseous, how did they even find you? Your hands are shaking as you pick up your phone to unlock it, only for a new request from a different account to pop up: 

1 attachment sent.

You take a deep breath as you try to think rationally. Don’t cry. Crying doesn’t erase it. Don’t cry.

This could be worse, you finally convince yourself. This could’ve been livestreamed.

[marvelshifter111]

𝑬ᴠ𝒆𝘳𝗒𝙙𝐚𝗒 𝐥𝙞𝘧𝒆 𝙞𝘯 𝑢𝘯𝙞ᴠ𝒆𝘳𝙨𝒆 𝟣9𝟴 – 𝙢𝗒 𝙨𝘱𝙞𝙙𝒆𝘳-ᴠ𝒆𝘳𝙨𝒆 𝘿𝘙

𝘍𝑜𝑜𝙙 & 𝙨𝑢𝘱𝘱𝐥𝒆𝙢𝒆𝘯𝘵𝙨

With pollution levels rising and natural food sources dwindling, people don’t eat the way they used to.

• 𝘕𝑢𝘵𝘳𝙞𝒆𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝐚𝘱𝙨𝑢𝐥𝒆𝙨 & 𝙨𝙢𝑜𝑜𝘵𝙝𝙞𝒆𝙨 – Instead of cooking, most people rely on pre-packaged liquid meals. The most popular brand is Nutrino Lab, which sells brightly colored bottles of protein-rich smoothies, meal bars, and even chewable tablets that contain a full day’s nutrition.

• 𝙎𝑢𝘱𝘱𝐥𝒆𝙢𝒆𝘯𝘵 𝙞𝘯𝙝𝐚𝐥𝒆𝘳𝙨 – Medicine, vitamins, and even stimulants are commonly taken through sleek, e-cigarette-style capsules. Since pollution and artificial living conditions have weakened immune systems, many rely on daily inhalers for essential nutrients, oxygen boosters, or even sleep regulators.

𝘊𝗒𝗯𝒆𝘳𝘯𝒆𝘵𝙞𝘤𝙨

𝘊𝗒𝗯𝒆𝘳𝘯𝒆𝘵𝙞𝘤𝙨 are as common as tattoos - an expression of wealth, necessity, or survival.

• 𝘛𝙝𝒆 𝘸𝒆𝐚𝐥𝘵𝙝 𝙙𝙞ᴠ𝙞𝙙𝒆:

The rich have internal implants - neural enhancers, bio-trackers, muscle augments, or even direct 𝐀𝙄 interfaces.

The poor, on the other hand, rely on external wearables - cybernetic gloves to enhance grip strength, earpieces that translate languages in real time, 𝙃𝑈𝘿 lenses for augmented reality overlays.

• 𝘊𝑜���𝙢𝑜𝘯 𝘤𝗒𝗯𝒆𝘳𝘯𝒆𝘵𝙞𝘤𝙨:

𝑂𝘱𝘵𝙞𝘤 𝙢𝑜𝙙𝙨 – 𝘤𝗒𝗯𝒆𝘳𝘯𝒆𝘵𝙞𝘤 eyes with features like night vision, zoom capabilities, or built-in AR interfaces.

𝘕𝒆𝑢𝘳𝐚𝐥 𝘫𝐚𝘤𝗄𝙨 – Small ports on the head or neck that let people interface with computers, vehicles, or weapons.

𝙎𝗒𝘯𝘵𝙝𝒆𝘵𝙞𝘤 𝐥𝙞𝙢𝗯𝙨 – 𝘤𝗒𝗯𝒆𝘳𝘯𝒆𝘵𝙞𝘤 arms or legs with enhanced strength, flexibility, or hidden weapons.

𝘙𝒆𝘧𝐥𝒆𝘹 𝗯𝑜𝑜𝙨𝘵𝒆𝘳𝙨 – Spinal implants that enhance reaction time, popular among fighters and racers.

𝙎𝗄𝙞𝘯 𝘸𝒆𝐚ᴠ𝒆 – Subdermal plating that makes skin resistant to small arms fire and blades, though it still feels mostly organic.

𝐀𝑢𝙙𝙞𝑜 𝘵𝑢𝘯𝒆𝘳𝙨 – Enhanced hearing that can filter background noise, detect specific frequencies, or amplify sound.

𝗕𝙞𝑜-𝙞𝘯𝘵𝒆𝘳𝘧𝐚𝘤𝒆 𝘤𝙝𝙞𝘱𝙨 – Allow users to remotely control drones, vehicles, or personal tech with their thoughts.

𝐀𝘵𝙢𝑜𝙨𝘱𝙝𝒆𝘳𝙞𝘤 𝐥𝑢𝘯𝑔𝙨 – 𝘤𝗒𝗯𝒆𝘳𝘯𝒆𝘵𝙞𝘤 lungs that filter toxins, useful in polluted areas.

𝑬𝘯𝘵𝒆𝘳𝘵𝐚𝙞𝘯𝙢𝒆𝘯𝘵 & 𝙨𝑜𝘤𝙞𝐚𝐥 𝘵𝘳𝒆𝘯𝙙𝙨

Life isn’t just about survival—people find ways to distract themselves.

• 𝙎𝘵𝘳𝒆𝒆𝘵 𝘳𝐚𝘤𝙞𝘯𝑔 & 𝙞𝐥𝐥𝒆𝑔𝐚𝐥 𝙙𝘳𝑜𝘯𝒆 𝘧𝙞𝑔𝙝𝘵𝙨 – Not everything is corporate-controlled. In the underground scene, illegal hover-bike races are a huge deal, while back alleys are filled with people gambling on drone fights - custom-built 𝐀𝙄 robots battling for entertainment.

• 𝘊𝗒𝗯𝒆𝘳𝘱𝑢𝘯𝗄 𝙨𝘵𝘳𝒆𝒆𝘵 𝘧𝐚𝙨𝙝𝙞𝑜𝘯 – Neon trench coats, sleek bodysuits with embedded LED strips, chrome jewelry that doubles as tech interfaces - fashion is a mix of utility and aesthetics. Some even have clothing that changes color or texture with a tap of their wrist.

𝘛𝙝𝒆 𝘊𝙞𝘵𝗒𝙨𝘤𝐚𝘱𝒆 & 𝘵𝘳𝐚𝘯𝙨𝘱𝑜𝘳𝘵𝐚𝘵𝙞𝑜𝘯

• 𝘍𝐥𝗒𝙞𝘯𝑔 𝘤𝐚𝘳𝙨 & 𝙢𝐚𝑔-𝘳𝐚𝙞𝐥𝙨 – The rich float above in sleek hover-cars while the working class relies on high-speed magnetic trains or rideshare drones - tiny 𝐀𝙄-piloted pods that weave through the city.

• 𝐀𝙄 𝐚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙨𝘵𝐚���𝘵𝙨 – 𝐀𝙄 isn’t fully independent, but it’s everywhere - smart home assistants, customer service bots, and floating holograms that follow you, advertising the latest upgrades.

• 𝑈𝘯𝙙𝒆𝘳𝑔𝘳𝑜𝑢𝘯𝙙 ᴠ𝙨. 𝘤𝑜𝘳𝘱𝑜𝘳𝐚𝘵𝒆 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝘵𝘳𝙞𝘤𝘵𝙨 – The upper levels of the city are sleek and well-maintained, owned by mega-corporations like Hexa, while down below, the streets are more chaotic, filled with graffiti-covered neon signs, smog-choked alleyways, and people hustling to get by.

[lu-dao-writes]

— Kairos

noun: kai•ros: the perfect, delicate, crucial moment; the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words, or movement.

warning(s) depictions of anxiety, stress, overthinking, and mentions of financial difficulties. Also maybe some grammar mistakes.

It was an overcasted day.

The building, although massive, lacked liveliness.

It wasn’t because a lack of students, oh no. It just… It was dull looking. Basic and aged.

But it’s a university nonetheless. A university that Lucien was fortunate enough to get into.

The student was forcing each foot in front of themself, chanting assurance in their brain, and ignoring the bodies that passed by them, or any they accidentally made eye contact with.

It took everything in them to not completely disassociate or succumb to an anxiety attack while heading to the administration office and receiving the necessary paperwork. They made sure to try and listen as information was being given, making sure to not ask the woman to repeat herself too much, and used the notes app on their phone just in case they forgot.

When the student finally left they fled to the courtyard and sat on a lonely bench, the cornflower paint chipped and the wood a bit cracked.

One breath in.

Hold it for four.

One breath out.

Out for four.

Wash, rinse, and repeat till they felt at least somewhat normal again.

They fix their headphones and flip around through their music, dark brown eyes watching young adults either rush to their lectures or meander with their friends or alone.

They soon study the map of Olympeius and murmur to themself about the next thing to do.

“It’s probably best to figure out where our lectures will be that way I’m not lost like a damn fool when it comes time to my first official day..”

They look around themself and purse their lips. “Nah… I’ll wait till there’s not so many people in the halls…”

Lucien isn’t clueless. Ever since they stepped foot into this city and university, they’ve seen the people walking around it.

Fast, vibrant cars, name brand clothing and accessories, black platinum cards (or flashes of green or pale blue paper), and finally, the attitude of others and how they carry themselves.

Lucien didn’t grow up rich and knew the taste of stress from financial problems, and the bitter feeling of someone constantly taking their money when they probably don’t even need it.

But anyways.

Lucien knew that they’d better keep their head down and try to avoid getting in some peoples way.

Otherwise they just might be eaten alive.

But they try to not think too negatively. Especially when they’re in a delicate headspace currently.

“We’ll be okay… Just stay in your lane and do your work. Don’t wanna disappoint anyone…”

‘I wasn’t bullied too badly in high school, maybe I’ll be okay.’

‘But I came from a simple high school. This place is different.’

‘What if I get caught up in something? Will I get help?’

‘What if I become some rich asshole’s servant?’

‘Will the bullying be like how it is on tv?’

‘Should I take self defense classes? Hell, nah, I definitely don’t got money for that, nor the motivation.’

‘Ugh, what about that bill I still need to pay?’

‘God, I have to find a new therapist too.’

‘So much to do and-.’

“Excuse me? Are you okay?”

It was dull and gray outside. They like it like that, it usually meant rain.

But now… The sun has peaked out from the shade of clouds and licked at their skin.

They blink and shake their head, catching their headphones as it slips back slightly, and there stands a proper looking young man with pretty eyes and an even prettier face.

Brown meets azure, and they nearly choke on air.

“I-.. Yeah..! Sorry, I was lost in thought!” Lucien quickly explained.

The dapper fellow smiles with relief and stands up straight, his hands behind his back. “That’s good to hear. I was quite concerned for a moment! Are you perhaps new?”

A gentle bob of their head and they smile sheepishly at him. “Is it that obvious?”

The man gives a lighthearted chuckle. “Hmm, I wouldn’t say that, but I haven’t seen you before. You just gave it away.”

“Fair,” Lucien chuckles, rubbing their neck, their eyes moving from his eyes and down to his mouth before looking at his attire.

Tawny skin with dusty pink undertones, silken brown hair in a little braid that rests on his shoulder, a few strands fallen in his face, making him look soft but still elegant. He’s got a clear face, plump shiny lips, a cute nose, and expressive eyes.

Blue eyes aren’t something they find interesting, but on him? They’re beautiful.

Fancy black shoes, slacks, and button up, and a purple vest that hugs his torso.

It makes them wary for a moment once they take in his all too neat and perfect appearance, but…

He seems sweet.

“Oh, I’m Lucien, by the way,” they greet.

“I’m Jericho. Jericho Ichabod. But everyone calls me Crowe!”

His teeth are straight and white, and behind him the sun blooms brighter, and Lucien isn’t sure what exactly is blinding them more.

[clotheshorsepodcast]

I was going to share  a post today reintroducing myself to you because Clotheshorse isn't an organization or even a collective of people. It's literally just one person, me, Amanda.

BUT then I got really riled up this morning because one of my friends (and clients) @jennylemons was blatantly (and I mean, BLATANTLY) copied by @tjmaxx.  Of course, this is one of many examples I have seen over the past month alone...and just another in a virtually uncountable series of I have witnessed in my adult life.

So let's talk about this again:

★ Stealing from artists, makers, small brands, and small businesses is NOT CUTE. 

★ It's not a "victimless crime."  This kind of design theft can destroy a small business.  And to be clear, as a person who's entire day-to-day work life is working with small businesses, many of these businesses literally support the owner and their family.  No one is getting rich. Maybe they employ a few people to help them out.  When a big company introduces a cheaper version of a small brand's work, the owners can no longer employ anyone.  Soon they can't even support themselves.  @kategabrielle literally had to sell her house after copies of her bag became rampant on Amazon.  

★ Stealing from artists just widens wealth inequality. When we buy a dupe from somewhere else, we're just giving more of our paycheck to billionaires, rather than supporting the individuals around us.  And these big companies are stoked because they just found a way to make money without actually paying designers to create stuff for them.  Ew.

★ Fast fashion everything isn’t doing you a “favor” by creating a cheap knockoff of something you like. They are just profiting from unethical behavior. And I know you don't want to be a part of it.

Listen, I get the desire for something that you just can't afford.  Welcome to many days of my life.  But as I share in this carousel, when I really wanted a Psychic Outlaw dress but didn't have the $$$, it was SO worth the wait for the day I could afford the real thing. It just feels so good to support someone whose talent you admire

[autisticrosewilson]

First of all, you have given me so much to work with, thank you so much. Second of all, I’m really glad you could see where I was going with Grant’s real test not actually being about killing Slade. Third of all, I absolutely love what you’ve suggested with the powers and I am currently designing met gala esque outfits for the trio and Tara’s specifically is really fun to play around with. I’ve been thinking to show they’re becoming more divine I’ll change their hair and eye colours but not their faces for the most part. I was drawing robin Jason with Natalia and decided he should have brown eyes and a crooked nose from breaking it as a kid but once he returns his eyes get weird (eg go blue and occasionally other colours), a patch of his hair went white and he lost all of his scars. Also, I think the closer they get to divinity I’m gonna draw cracks on their body that glow with their specific colours just to hammer home how they’re shedding their mortal forms.

With Tara being able to see the strings of fate, I though it’d be fun to give her a harp and then with Jason having the see no evil trait I thought it’d be fun to give him weighing scales since lady justice wears a blindfold. Idk what to give Grant though. I mean probably a weapon of some sort or maybe a Shepard’s crook that he can turn into a scythe to play into the sheep, wolf, Hunter thing.

With Jason and Tara’s splintering, I love the idea of them making fun of Grant for being the baby god. He hasn’t even had a cult yet, gosh he’s so young. Also them being besties just holds a special place in my heart.

And I just came up with this, of course they have parallels to the trinity but in universe rumours of their existence have been around much longer than Bruce, Clark and Diana. They’re the big three of the justice league but these guys are justice gods. So they start calling themselves the justice trinity but then people get confused about which trinity is which because the justice leagues’ trinity sounds awfully close to the justice gods’ trinity. The new all caste is certainly more distinctive branding but the point isn’t to be distinctive, it’s to be petty.

I'm so glad my unmedicated rambling helped!!! And I'm so excited for the outfits!!! I love when characters start becoming less and less human, when they're stuck in that uncanny valley spot of not quite human but not entirely Other, when they lose control and the cracks start to show...um I should probably give a warning for slight body horror elements. Not in the gore sense, in the "this body is not made of flesh and there is something divine clawing it's way out". Uh also there are teeth. Just. Teeth. I dipped into a little bit of cosmic horror at the end there because I wanted to cover my bases with mixed mythologies

Jason, with his defined splinters, is usually depicted with three faces in ancient texts. The Child, gaunt and dark colored, is said to appear before the downtrodden and impoverished. The few stories remaining tell of kindly people who give him an offering, and in exchange he reveals his true form, with his crown of golden ivy and beautiful strong wings to gift them bounties of food and water and riches. Other stories tell of not so kind encounters, where The Child witnesses an injustice - typically against women or children - and again reveals his true form, one with clawed hands and a mouth dripping with blood. Scholars argue what the wings looked like, but whichever All-Caste member annotated it before has compared their likeness to either a Robin or a Shrike.

There's also The Ghost, He appears young at first glance, but his hair is wirey and gray, his eyes milky and unseeing, in bloodied armor he greets the souls of the damned as they're delivered to him, and with scarred hands he wipes the tears of children taken too soon. Accounts of this face are few and far between, but all of them are entrenched in sorrow.

Finally there is The Soldier, scarred and still smoking from the ruins of battle he emerges, giving voice to the weak and resources to the needy. He champions revolutionaries and philosophers first, a strategist who delights in the liberation of the people from corrupt systems. Accounts of him usually come from times of famine and war, and he was particularly popular with poor villages, who would mark the graves of their dead with the symbol of his sword as offerings. For some reason or other, he got particularly popular with the youth, girls and boys both seemed to pray for him and leave him offerings.

The way these manifest on Jason is subtle at first. I could go the body horror route, but I won't. Yet. Instead I think his splinters show up as reflections, shadows, imprints. The faint echo of bell-like laughter when Jason does a move he learned as Robin, the image of a younger him with longer hair and unblinking eyes staring at him in the mirror. It gets worse when he gets the blades, the white streaks his hair, the swirling mark covers more of his skin every time he uses them, he trails the scent of smoke and blood behind him like a signature. His scars...they should disappear. They have for everyone else who used the pit, but instead his skin starts cracking. Any place he's ever been scarred glowing cracks break up his skin. He can't feel them, but he's always aware of them, the meaning behind them, the divinity literally leaking through his body. His eyes aren't brown anymore. They aren't even green. He looks in the mirror and they are copper, molten and burning. He tries his best to keep his mask on.

What do you think of when you imagine the word divinity? Probably something like Tara. Something with skin carved from stone, with moss and fungus crawling up her legs and snow laden shoulders. They say her hair is made of swirling clouds and the sun and moon are her eyes.

Some say she's a nymph although no one knows what kind. You're just as likely to see her name among the naiads as the dryads. Whether flowers bloom where she dances or waves crash when she sings, she's known to be more vicious towards suitors than her sisters.

Others have said she's a faerie, who takes the faces of lost daughters and lovers, slipping into their places seamlessly, forcing unruly men to pay their dues. Others say she's a shifter of a different sort, with a shawl of feathers and a crown of twine and gems. Stories range from men trying to steal her coat (and paying dearly) to lost children returned safely home on the back of a swan.

Tara doesn't think about it at first, the way gravity tends to cede to her, she doesn't notice how sunflowers turn their faces towards her instead of the sun. She doesn't notice the way her face...shifts. it's imperceptible really, and it's not like she looks in the mirror all that often. But everyone around her notices it, on some level, the way her expressions are off. A little too exaggerated. The way her limbs bend just a little too oddly. The way she never looks quite the same as she did the day before, the way she picks up features from the people around her the way she picks up rocks from ground to add to her collection. Clay molded subtly into the image of those she loves, a museum of everyone she's ever met. She does notice when her hair starts going white at the ends, the strange way her hair starts to curl unnaturally, almost floating. She's not so upset about her eyes, the deep blue of her father that has glared down at her day after day, she has changed her hair, her face, her language but she could not change her eyes. It seems she didn't have to, when she wakes up with one a little too silver to be gray and one a little too gold to be brown. And then her skin starts splitting, a cavern made from a broken rib and ravines made by the slashing of knives. She doesn't even bleed anymore, they never scab over. They crystallize, amber like ambrosia, like ichor. Her body a geode waiting to be cracked open to let the thing within finally break free.

They know the least about Grant, whatever he used to be. Half written scrolls, torn or burnt or simply stopped abruptly, illegible journal entries with symbols never recorded in any known language, half finished sketches where the details are never quite clear. A few things are usually consistent though, signs that he's been there, usually from hunters down on their luck or the particularly old and sickly. First, the howling. Like a wolf or a storm, although later accounts would add that it occasionally sounds like a mechanical whirring. Then the rabbits, dead and gutted, but not a trace of blood. Piles of them left in heaps on doorsteps or windowsills. Some have reported knocking at strange hours or finding teeth in their homes, a mix of human and animal. There is one photo on record, the most recent thing in the archive most likely, of claw marks on the side of a barn, too big and oddly serrated, certainly not from anything native to the area. Elderly that report these phenomena typically pass from heart problems within the week, according to some of the old medical files.

Grant came back wrong. Physically, at least. He knows that he's still himself for the most part, dying didn't make him a selfish asshole he did that all on his own, but...but something is wrong with him. It's the way lightbulbs flicker when he's mad and how cameras, no matter the quality, never quite get a clear shot of him. The way Joey can't ever grasp his features, not fully, the details slipping from his mind like water. The way eyes on his face slide right past, unable to look directly at him. It's in the gray spreading from his roots and his eyes too wide and dark to belong to something human. It's the way death clings to him like a second skin, sickly and pallid turning the tips of his fingers gray. His teeth are starting to feel too sharp for his mouth, and he hears things no one else does, whispers of voices that Are Not and Can't Be. The worst part is the orange, liquid candlelight under his skin, lighting up all of his veins and scars, webbing together like the world's worst game of connect the dots. No, there is no mistaking him for something human, so there is no reason to try. If this is his fate then he will take it, because he is not a sheep and he will not be a wolf, he is a hunter, and he is hungry.

[solarwynd]

just felt like sharing some of my thoughts on recent topics:

- i think nj’s album is objectively decent. if anything my biggest critique is that, similar to indigo, he insists on singing and anyone else that jumps on the record eats him up. i really did like the production and after tuning him out a little i really enjoyed the vibe. i actually think its a lot more refined and grounded than indigo despite being a mess thematically/lyrically but i actually think that thats what he was going for lol, a sort of “emotional clusterfuck”.

as for army’s reception, i think he’s def trying to build his own audience and he’s aware that takes time. he went in a totally different direction than his previous release yet its still very him. armys might not be the target audience but its better for him to build a small but loyal base that will continue to tune in for his solo stuff rather than just expecting armys to like everything every member puts out.

its rich for other kpop stans to drag him when despite doing what he’s done he’s still more successful than most korean artists, so its funny for me to see people think they can drag him for not getting streams in korea which if im not mistaken have the lowest residuals for streams and are the flakiest audience (but maybe thats just me being petty lol)

- nwjns new song not doing that hot on global spotify doesn’t surprise me. they are an aesthetic-leaning group, yes their songs are cute but its because of the aesthetic theyre accompanied with that they feel so grand and trendy every time. the aesthetic for how sweet is minimal and kinda getting old so people dont seem to be buying into that so far (outside of sk) but im sure that as soon as there’s a cute tiktok trend to go with it they’ll end up biting. the song is cute, but i have to admit this trend of “flat”singing is tiring me. open up those vocal chords and SING dammit.

- random, but i wonder if supernova by aespa doing that well is some sort of reaction to the whole mhj-bpd drama. imo drama was a million times better and didn’t do as well as it shouldve

- idk if im over my fixation, but nothing thats come out of the kpop industry this year has been genuinely interesting or exciting. i mostly just tune into female artists and a handful of soloists. there’s been some cute concepts here and there but the music is just meh.

“i really did like the production and after tuning him out a little i really enjoyed the vibe.”

Im sorry this is taking me out. Tuning out the very person whose album you’re listening to is crazy 😭 but I kinda get it lmao.

After watching that minimoni special this morning and how he described rpwp basically as a rant, an “emotional clusterfuck” is aptly named tbh. It’s gonna be really hard for him to get a solid solo fanbase because he doesn’t have personal reach or appeal beyond the armys that already know him and his music and the music he’s been dropping isn’t really attention grabbing either. Like I’m sure there’s people who are out there that know he’s a good rapper and can respect him for that, but it’s still not enough to make them stan him and that’s where the problem will lie for him.

Njws (or mhj) are following a theme that doesn’t allow themselves or their music to evolve, because beyond the different outfits and hairstyles everything is starting to feel repetitive. Real one trick pony-ish cause it seems like this is all mhj knows how to do. Like you already know what to expect from them and I find artists who just stick to one sound kinda boring (though I have my exceptions). I see what you’re saying about the “flat” singing lol but imo not everyone has to like sing sing if you get me? I’m not just talking about belting but just typical singing. Even though it would be a nice switch up from them I feel like they’ve just made that they’re brand.

I actually just listened to supernova after I drafted this and ended up really liking it. It’s a cool song. I listened to drama too, not bad either. It’s a possibility that the whole mhj/bang debacle might’ve had a positive impact for aespa, but sometimes the k gp just likes what they like and blows it up. I know they loved queen card by g-idle but I still do not like that song at all.

I’m a casual listener of a handful a groups and I’ll check out their releases when they drop. Any other song I listen to apart from them is just because I wanted to see what the fuss was about but all in all everything is just so typical. I’ve had releases I’ve enjoyed but everything still has that standard kpop sound to it so I agree nothing has really been exciting.

[idreamonpaper]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Tagged by @drabbleitout a while ago but this sounds too fun to not do!

Rules: Post 7 snippets than tag seven people

I will preface this by saying, I have no clue who to tag so take this an open invitation to anyone who wants to share some snippets of your stories!! For now, here’s some snippets from Those Lovely Cuspids!

Trigger Warning for some drug mentions!

“Did you just come out of the hospital?”

Icarus barely hears the shout over the loud rock song filling every nook and cranny of the bar. Bartenders have a way of making themselves heard though. He pauses his noble quest, catching the bartender’s eye. She’s holding a tall glass of beer, staring at the white wristband Icarus has been picking at. Her grip on the glass is loose, but her fingers twitch. 

Clearly, she’s debating how good of an idea it is to surrender the glass to him. 

“This?” He gestures to his wrist, plucking at the white wristband that’s dyed pink under the strobe lights. “Nah, I just came from that knockoff county fair.” 

Her shoulders loosen, releasing the tension from her posture and her expression. She flashes a small grin and places the glass within Icarus’ reach. The imprint of her fingers lingers on the thin layer of condensation covering the glass. 

Icarus presses the wristband on the glass, hoping the moisture will quicken the process of getting this thing off him. 

It doesn’t.

---

“Nothing to see here but another artist bending under the pressures of fame.” Icarus gestures to himself, letting his hands drop onto his chest.

“What does that look like for you?”

It’s an acid-fueled nightmare is what it is: constant chatter from bossy managers, expectations from a record label that can drop anyone without warning or reason, grasping hands clawing at his legs with demands for more on the parched lips of fans, and the weight of eyes crawling on every inch of his skin. 

Worst of all is the dread: putting any form of art out there for the public eye is nerve wracking. 

Will it be mocked ruthlessly? Taken out of context and turned into something else entirely?

Not everyone will understand nor will they like the music Icarus and his band creates. It isn’t realistic to assume so, but it doesn’t erase the fear.

The artist might not be tortured when they create their masterpiece, but they sure will be after it’s in the grimy hands of the public.

---

Icarus had no intentions of befriending Dakota because she’s disgustingly rich, but it is a bonus.

She’s spoiled rotten and her room looks like it came out of Barbie dreamhouse. Pink and glitter everywhere, arranged to look like an adult room instead of a toddler’s room. Designer brands and names make up her closet and every piece of furniture she owns. 

The benefits of having a lawyer for a mom and a neurosurgeon for a dad. He’s personally never seen Assad and Esperanza Baker, and he never wants to meet them. Icarus is still on the fence about whether or not they’re real or a pipedream.

Rich parents who aren’t emotionally absent and just as generous with their love? Sounds fake.

Whether or not they’re real, they did raise a daughter whose smile outshines the goddamn sun.

Icarus would die for her without a second thought.

Even when she’s putting all her weight on his back.

---

“You’re late.” Bria points out, typing one more thing before snapping her laptop shut. 

“Terribly sorry about that, time is quite unforgiving.” Marcellus’ voice is soft, pulling everyone’s attention towards him. 

Bria hums, she isn’t pleased but she’ll accept the answer. Icarus desperately wants to tug on the rebellious curl that’s escaped from her bun. Her large sunglasses act as a headband, perched atop her head, but even then some of the smaller curls that frame her face find ways to escape.  

“I won’t waste your time any further, I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve brought you here.” Marcellus gets right into it, going through with his promise immediately.

Icarus, being the useless bisexual he is, lets his eyes fall from Marcellus’ face to his collarbones. A thin silver chain decorates his fair skin, and there’s a mole resting on his clavicle.

---

“I can’t believe you!” Sandro doesn’t bother taking the keys out of the ignition, and the engine rumbles softly in the background. 

“I turned my back on you for one second to talk to the nurse, and poof! You vanished into thin air without any of your shit except for your wallet and your jacket. I drove around, hoping I would find you and here you are five whole blocks away-” 

Icarus zones out, staring at Sandro’s scuffed boots. He keeps telling the guy to replace them, but Sandro will wear something until it’s falling apart before he considers replacing it. Where did he get those anyway? They’re a few years old if Icarus remembers correctly. No, he didn’t get them for himself; they were a gift. Birthday gift? Christmas?

Sandro stomps his foot, sending loose bits of gravel flying. He shields his fries from the spray of dirt, turning his body away. It would be childish on anyone else, but Sandro knows Icarus very well. He knew he lost him in thoughts about his boots. 

“-and now you’re not listening to me.”

“Nope.” Icarus shrugs, scooping up a fry with a mountain of green chile, cheese and bits of bacon on top of it.

---

“I always knew Elio liked you the most.” Dakota sighs wistfully, settling back down.

“You did basically force him to be your friend then threw him to us.” Sandro’s hand settles on Icarus’ shoulder, a solid weight instead trying to shake answers out of him like a dog with a squeaky toy.

“His name is Elio! Spanish version of the name Helios, Greek god of the Sun. Mine is Icarus, of course I forced him to be my friend!” He happened to hear his name by pure chance, and Icarus pounced.

It was too perfect to miss the opportunity. Not that Elio much appreciated it, but he’s desensitized to the lot of them. Whether he likes it or not they’re friends now. He needs to hang out with more people aside from his parents anyway. 

“Also, I know this is a very severe subject change, but my binder is seriously squeezing my ribcage, get off.” His friends scramble off him, dispersing like the Red Sea. 

---

“Are you sure I’m not keeping you up?” Amancio finally gets the balls to break the silence, speaking so softly Icarus isn’t sure if he heard him right.

“Nah.” Sleep comes to him in small fits and bursts, hardly lasting for more than an hour or two before he’s ready to go again.

“O-oh.” Amancio pokes at his burger, it’s the first time he’s touched it since the waitress plopped it in front of him.

“And you don’t want anything to eat? I-I’ll pay for it.” He’s avoiding looking at Icarus, and yet he can’t keep his eyes from roaming over his face every few seconds.

It’s like he's searching for something and he keeps coming up empty every time. His eyes will flick back to his burger. It’ll hold his attention for a little, but then he’s right back at it. Don’t even get him started on his hands, they’ve been fluttering around nonstop. The guy has bees in his hands, Icarus swears.

[slow-drowned-angels]

[image id: A screenshot of a tweet from the New York Post. It reads:

“Carl’s Jr. Super Bowl ad brings back bikini-clad burger models after yearslong clampdown.”

Attached to the tweet are two images of said ad. They both show the same scantily-clad, blonde, white woman posing with a burger and cars. She is wearing a bra that is made up of two star shapes and a jean miniskirt.

End image ID./]

Some notable parts of the Vox article:

It harks back to the idea that was dominant in the Bush era, a moment when our culture was capable of prizing Girls Gone Wild and purity balls in equal measure, when pop stars like Britney Spears were expected to serve their audiences sex on a platter while avowing their virginity at the same time. It’s the ideology that unites Republican raunch and purity culture, that makes them two sides of the same coin: one based on the idea that women’s sexuality should exist in the service of men. The right once again championing this brand of bawdiness while working relentlessly to restrict women’s autonomy and denigrating the women they don’t like isn’t a departure. It’s a return to form.

…

The joke was that it was funny when girls were sexy and it was sexy when girls were degraded — especially when they played along.

…

“The more attractive women around us are, whether in real life or fiction, the less one is able to maintain two important leftist delusions,” Hanania writes. “That the sexes are or can be made interchangeable, and that sexual selection either is or can be made to be an unimportant part of human affairs. If Sydney Sweeney’s boobs walk into a room, even Chris Hayes is going to experience a physiological transformation.”

Hanania’s take, if I’m deciphering it correctly, is that it is fundamental to human nature for men to publicly ogle women’s bodies and value women accordingly, and that when feminists object to the ogling, they are attempting to put some sort of vise around human nature. Sweeney’s star power, combined with her willingness to show off her curves, he argues, is proof that this vise has vanished and men can go back to the way things should be: sexualizing women pretty much whenever they feel like it.

All of this is a willful misreading of contemporary feminism. There’s a clear difference between Sweeney being proudly boob-forward — while still getting taken seriously as an award-winning actor with major star power — and other people getting rich by exploiting the breasts of beautiful underpaid women, as was the case with Girls Gone Wild, The Man Show, and, heck, even today’s Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders

The radical idea of pop feminism in the 2010s was that you should be accorded basic human dignity regardless of what your body looks like and how you choose to display it, even if you are an entertainer in a visual medium. Raunch culture looks at this request and declares it regressive, prudish, delusional. Raunch must be compulsory or it is nothing.

…

This basic fact is why raunch culture and purity culture co-exist so closely. It’s why the online right can think of themselves as being pro-sex and also be in favor of outlawing abortion and making it harder to access contraception. All of it is about men controlling women’s bodies: controlling how they look, how they have sex, and how they have children. The point is always that it’s not the woman who chooses.

…

“If we were to acknowledge that sexuality is personal and unique, it would become unwieldy. Making sexiness into something simple, quantifiable, makes it easier to explain and to market,” Levy writes. “If you remove the human factor from sex and make it about stuff — big fake boobs, bleached blonde hair, long nails, poles, thongs — then you can sell it. Suddenly, sex requires shopping; you need plastic surgery, peroxide, a manicure, a mall.”

…

The claim that sex belongs to Republicans should not be understood simply as a bizarre and self-deluding brag. It’s a threat.

while being depressing, this is also sort of fascinating to me bc there’s something so…inauthentic here. what i mean is that if you saw something like this back in say 2001 (which you probably wouldn’t, at least for carl’s jr. but i digress) it would seem tacky but in a “sex sells” sort of way.

seeing this in 2025, it’s clearly purely a political statement and you can tell partially bc the image itself is so oddly sexless. it’s like there’s more titillation in the prospect of “owning the libs” than in the image of the scantily clad blonde white woman itself.

[coderzcolumn-digitalmarketing]

Is SEO Really Dead? Why SMO Might Be the New King of Digital Marketing!

A few years ago, I believed that ranking high on Google was the ultimate goal of digital marketing.

Like many, I focused heavily on SEO strategies—keywords, backlinks, and Google algorithms. But lately, I’ve realized that things are shifting.

With social media platforms like Instagram, TikTok, LinkedIn, and Twitter driving massive traffic, traditional SEO isn't the only game in town anymore. That’s where SMO (Social Media Optimization) comes in—and honestly, it might just be the new king of digital marketing.

Here’s what I’ve discovered.

🔍 Why People Are Saying "SEO is Dead"

SEO isn’t literally dead, but it’s not as powerful on its own as it once was. Here’s why:

❌ Google’s Algorithm Keeps Changing – Ranking on page one is harder than ever.

❌ AI Search (SGE) & Zero-Click Searches – People get answers without even clicking links.

❌ Social Media Drives More Traffic – Platforms like TikTok & Instagram are becoming search engines themselves.

❌ Brand Engagement Beats Keywords – People trust recommendations & social proof more than Google rankings.

That’s why I’ve started focusing on SMO (Social Media Optimization) to increase visibility, engagement, and traffic.

What is SMO & Why Does It Matter?

SMO is all about optimizing your content for social media platforms to increase reach, engagement, and brand authority. Unlike SEO, which relies on Google, SMO leverages social media networks to build a brand presence.

Here’s why SMO is winning in 2025:

✅ Social Media is the New Search Engine – People search for brands, products, and answers on TikTok, YouTube & Instagram instead of Google.

��� Virality Drives More Traffic – A well-optimized social post can reach millions overnight, unlike SEO, which takes months to rank.

✅ More Direct Audience Interaction – SEO brings passive traffic, while social media builds engagement & trust.

✅ Algorithm Rewards Engagement – Likes, shares, and comments boost visibility—Google doesn’t reward engagement the same way.

SMO - Social Media Optimzation isn’t just about posting content—it’s about strategically optimizing it to reach the right people.

How I Use SMO to Drive More Traffic Than SEO

Here’s what I’ve been doing differently to make SMO work for me:

1️⃣ Creating Shareable, Engaging Content

Instead of just writing blogs for SEO, I repurpose content into:

📌 Short-form videos (TikTok, Instagram Reels, YouTube Shorts)

📌 Engaging carousel posts (LinkedIn & Instagram)

📌 Interactive polls & discussions (Twitter & LinkedIn)

This boosts engagement & reach way more than just relying on Google rankings.

2️⃣ Optimizing Content for Social Search

Now, I treat Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube like search engines.

🔹 I use hashtags strategically

🔹 I write keyword-rich captions & descriptions

🔹 I engage with comments & communities to boost visibility

With social media search on the rise, this helps me get discovered faster than SEO alone.

3️⃣ Leveraging Influencers & Communities

Instead of waiting months for backlinks, I now:

🔹 Collaborate with micro-influencers for more reach

🔹 Join Facebook groups, LinkedIn communities, and Reddit discussions

🔹 Encourage UGC (User-Generated Content) to drive organic engagement

This builds trust and sends more traffic than SEO ever did!

4️⃣ Cross-Promoting Content Everywhere

I make sure every post gets maximum exposure by:

✅ Repurposing blog posts into videos & infographics

✅ Posting across multiple platforms (Instagram, Twitter, LinkedIn, YouTube)

✅ Using email marketing to boost engagement

Instead of relying solely on Google traffic, I now drive visitors from multiple sources.

Final Verdict: SEO vs. SMO – Which One Wins?

Honestly, neither SEO nor SMO can survive alone.

But if I had to choose where to invest my time and energy in 2025, I’d prioritize SMO because:

Social media algorithms favor engagement & virality

It’s faster to reach an audience than waiting for SEO rankings

It builds a real connection with users & potential customers

That said, I still use SEO—but now, I combine it with SMO to maximize traffic, brand visibility, and engagement.

What’s Your Take?

Do you think SMO is the future of digital marketing, or is SEO still king? Let’s discuss in the comments! 👇👇

👉 Want to learn more? Check out the full post on CoderzColumn

[successhubuk]

From Zero to a Million-Pound Business in 12 Months: The Untold Story of an Entrepreneur’s Success

Can You Build a Million-Pound Business in One Year? Here’s Proof That You Can.

Most people think building a million-pound business takes years of grinding, massive funding, or a stroke of luck.

What if I told you that one entrepreneur did it in just 12 months—starting from scratch, with no investors, no industry connections, and no fancy MBA?

This isn’t just another “rags-to-riches” story. This is a blueprint.

If you’re ready to build, scale, and even sell your own million-pound business, this is your step-by-step guide.

Step 1: The “No Money, No Problem” Launch Strategy

Most people spend months “preparing” to start a business—choosing a logo, buying a domain, setting up social media… and making £0.

🔥 What This Entrepreneur Did Instead: ✅ Sold before creating the product/service. ✅ Launched with a “minimum viable offer” (MVO) instead of spending months perfecting it. ✅ Used free platforms like LinkedIn, TikTok & word-of-mouth to attract early customers.

🚀 Fast-Track Tip:

Instead of building a website first, create a Google Doc or landing page and start selling immediately.

📌 Reality Check: If no one is willing to pay you today, they won’t pay you six months from now.

Step 2: Choosing the Right Business Model (The Millionaire Shortcut)

Most entrepreneurs pick the wrong business model—one that’s too expensive to scale, has low profit margins, or takes forever to grow.

🔥 The Winning Business Models in 2025: ✔️ Service-Based Business (Low cost, high margins) – Selling expertise as a premium service. ✔️ E-Commerce (Scalable & automated) – Building an online store with AI-driven product sourcing. ✔️ Subscription Model (Recurring revenue) – Membership sites or SaaS. ✔️ Lead Generation (Low overhead, high profits) – Selling leads to businesses.

✅ What This Entrepreneur Chose: A service-based business with low upfront costs and high profit margins—allowing money to be reinvested into growth.

Step 3: Making the First £10K (Without Paid Ads)

Here’s the mistake most new entrepreneurs make: They think they need a huge audience before making money.

🔥 What This Entrepreneur Did Instead: ✅ Used “DM Sales” – Reached out to 50 potential customers a day. ✅ Leveraged authority & positioning – Positioned themselves as the expert, even before they had clients. ✅ Asked for referrals – Each satisfied customer referred 2-3 others.

🚀 Fast-Track Tip:

Join Facebook & LinkedIn groups where your ideal customers already hang out.

Offer value before selling—share insights, case studies, or free audits.

📌 Reality Check: You don’t need ads to make your first £10K. You need conversations.

Step 4: Scaling to £100K (The Power of Systems & Automation)

Most businesses hit a ceiling because the founder does everything manually. That’s not how million-pound businesses are built.

🔥 What This Entrepreneur Did Differently: ✅ Automated lead generation with AI-powered chatbots & email sequences. ✅ Hired freelancers & virtual assistants early to remove non-revenue tasks. ✅ Standardized services so fulfillment was fast and scalable.

🚀 Fast-Track Tip:

Use Zapier to automate repetitive tasks.

Hire a sales assistant or closer once you hit consistent revenue.

📌 Reality Check: The difference between a £10K/month business and a £100K/month business is systems.

Step 5: How to Attract High-Paying Clients (Without Chasing Them)

High-value clients don’t come from cold emails or cheap Facebook ads. They come from strategic positioning.

🔥 What This Entrepreneur Did to Get Premium Clients: ✅ Built a personal brand – Shared insights on LinkedIn, Medium, and Twitter. ✅ Created authority-building content – Case studies, testimonials, and success stories. ✅ Spoke at events & on podcasts – Became known as the go-to expert.

🚀 Fast-Track Tip:

Use social proof & credibility signals (e.g., "As featured in Forbes") to attract premium buyers.

📌 Reality Check: The easiest way to attract high-paying clients is to become the obvious choice.

Step 6: Scaling from £100K to £1M (The Growth Engine Formula)

🔥 What Most People Do Wrong at This Stage: ❌ Try to do everything themselves. ❌ Underprice their services or products. ❌ Focus on getting more clients instead of increasing lifetime value.

🔥 What This Entrepreneur Did Instead: ✅ Increased prices & introduced premium offers. ✅ Built a referral & affiliate system. ✅ Expanded internationally.

🚀 Fast-Track Tip:

If you’re already making £10K/month, double your prices, add a premium tier, and watch revenue skyrocket.

📌 Reality Check: The fastest way to grow to £1M isn’t getting more customers—it’s getting the right ones.

Step 7: Selling the Business for a Life-Changing Exit

The biggest mistake entrepreneurs make? They build a job, not an asset.

🔥 Why This Entrepreneur Sold Their Business for a Massive Payday: ✅ The business could run without them. ✅ It had strong recurring revenue. ✅ It was systemized and easy for a buyer to take over.

✅ Where They Sold It: 📍 World Businesses for Sale – A marketplace for entrepreneurs to sell for the highest price.

🚀 Fast-Track Tip:

If you want to sell your business one day, start documenting processes, building a brand, and securing long-term revenue now.

📌 Reality Check: A business that runs itself is 10X more valuable than one that depends on you.

Final Takeaways: How to Build a Million-Pound Business in 12 Months

✔️ Step 1: Sell before building. ✔️ Step 2: Pick a high-profit business model. ✔️ Step 3: Make your first £10K with direct outreach. ✔️ Step 4: Scale to £100K by automating & hiring. ✔️ Step 5: Attract high-value clients through positioning. ✔️ Step 6: Scale to £1M with pricing & expansion. ✔️ Step 7: Sell your business for maximum profit.

🚀 Ready to turn your business into a million-pound success? 📍 List it now on World Businesses for Sale.

🎥 Watch real success stories on our YouTube channel.

🔥 The question isn’t "Can I build a million-pound business?" It’s "How fast do I want to get there?"

[gh0st-patr0l]

HOOOOO boy. So, Twitter found a new buzzword... and are calling out a bunch of youtubers/streamers as "industry plants".

Oh boy.

For those of you who somehow haven't heard, there's been a lot of drama online about a band called the Tramp Stamps, who have recently popped up trying to pose as a self-made, riot grrrl, punk-rock group. To make a long story short, people dug into everything and found out that they were actually put together and funded by a big label and are totally fake.

Which is fine, kinda funny, whatever. But the thing is, now a bunch of people who don't really know what they're talking about have found a word that sounds bad and can be used to talk shit about people, and it's getting thrown around like a fucking game of dodgeball.

So! Let's actually talk about this.

By definition, an "industry plant" is an artist of any kind who presents themselves as and pretends to be a 'homegrown', self-made creator, when in reality their career was started and funded by some bigger corporation.

What this an Industry Plant IS; The Tramp Stamps, who based their image and social media presence about being alt, garage-band punks, when in reality they're just a bunch of rich white girls backed by a label, wearing Dolls Kill and spewing gross, poser-ass garbage.

What an Industry Plant is NOT; An independent streamer who achieves a decent amount of success and signs on to a management group.

Because that's the thing- all this freaking out about "industry plants"? Is just folks doing research and finding out- gasp- a successful public personality and entertainer has a MANAGER??????

I don't know how to explain to yall that hiring someone to help you with your business and finances. Does not invalidate your career.

The difference between a "plant" and just,, a successful entertainer/artist is that a plant is selected, funded by, and has its image shaped by a brand, company, etc. If you only got funding and management after you're successful, you can't be a plant.

For example! Let's talk about a member of the MCYT community who has been Heavily accused in this spur of drama- Karl Jacobs.

Now, as far as I've seen, the main reason people seem to think he's a plant is that he works under a pretty big management agency, Night Media, and because he got his 'start' with Mr. Beast.

Really, I think this just shows that people don't really bother doing actual research into this stuff.

When Karl first started streaming, it wasn't under Karl Jacobs- and he didn't even stream minecraft. His first channel was "GamerBoyKarl", which he started in college, and he was primarily a Roblox streamer. Karl has talked about this period of his life several times- how he streamed every day, for hours, while working full time on a dual degree program. He's explained that after every stream he did, he would sit and watch back through the entire vod, taking notes to figure out what he did well and what he needed to improve on. He would come up with weird, crazy stunts to try to entertain and get more viewers, like snorting g-fuel when he got a sub or donation.

He did this for about four years and peaked at around 100 viewers.

Then, through a chance connection (I believe through his brother), he got a job offer at Mr. Beast. He quit school five weeks before his graduation and dropped his entire life to take the opportunity- and it was just as an editor. While editing there, again, he would take notes on the raw footage he was given to figure out patterns in the content, what jokes worked and what didn't, how much to talk or do, etc. so that when he finally got a chance to perform on camera, he could be as entertaining and efficient as possible.

And then he gradually became an on-camera personality, and then he met Dream and the others and started streaming again, and around that time he ended up signing on with Night Media, the same management group that Mr. Beast and Neeko are both signed under.

This, my friends, is not an industry plant.

Karl worked extremely hard to get to where he is, and his success is a mix of dedication and a few lucky breaks and connections. He isn't a put-together act, and he wasn't funded by some weird corporation to be a fucking MCYT streamer.

And that's my real problem with this- the fact that when you just accuse someone of being a plant because they have a manager, you're basically saying that they didn't do any work to get where they are. That they're fake, that they're a liar, and that they don't deserve the success that they have. It's really fucking insulting, especially when you're so blatantly wrong.

I went off on a bit of a tangent, but I guess my point here is- not everyone who has a manager is a corporate industry plant. Do research, actually learn what terms and words mean, and don't just throw around the twitter hot word of the day because it's fun to start shit.

Be smarter than that, folks. I know you can.

[bilboyagathechickenfootedhobbit]

There’s definitely some difference in perspective considering the nearly quarter century difference in age 😂 I grew up in a time when we weren’t constantly bombarded with advertising. The advertising that existed was FUCK AWFUL, but if you didn’t watch TV or read magazines you could avoid the worst of it. Your generation is growing up in a time where, no matter where you turn you are inundated with toxic messaging, usually disguised as a message of empowerment, so it’s only natural that the methods my generation used to express themselves aren’t well-known to you guys. You guys get fed media that tells you how to be subversive, but it’s really just corporate conformity repackaged in a punk aesthetic, which is how you get conservative punks.

Etsy is a great source for buying unique handmade clothes, although more and more it seems you have to click to like page 16 to find a vendor that isn’t just drop-shipping cheap shit from China. I’d suggest local thrift stores, hitting yard/estate sales (rich old ladies have some of the COOLEST AND WEIRDEST SHIT, yo!), bazaars, flea markets, and my fav, clothing swaps. We even created a clothing corner at my last job, where people could bring in articles of clothing to donate and we just had a big closet back by the student lounge and you could take whatever you wanted. It was a great way for our students on a budget to get new clothes, and it was a nice encouragement for the staff to go through their closets regularly. Twice a year we would reserve a classroom to do a huge clothing swap where we would take donations for a month and then set up the classroom with tables and have all the clothes laid out for people to browse. I got the most AMAZING white faux fur jacket at one. I feel like a princess in it, it’s nothing I ever would have thought to buy, but for free? It’s become one of my favorite winter coats.

The point being, sometimes you can find cool clothes that aren’t in big brand stores, but sometimes you have to make it happen yourself, be it creating a community clothing swap, learning to sew, or actively seeking out small vendors/fairs/markets. But we all have to start somewhere, and the important thing is to start. It’s become so second nature to me to seek out alternative avenues for clothes that I was completely taken aback the other day when someone asked me where on EARTH I managed to find my outlandish clothes. I was like “uh, same as everyone? I dug through some dead persons closet and combined it with some fabric scraps from my sewing bin?” I was not expecting the weird look I got, and then I was like “oh yeah, this person gets their clothes at Target…….” No hate, but I was just like “what do you mean you don’t drive around looking for estate sales to plunder?”

I’ve very much enjoyed this; as you can tell, I’m always happy to entertain questions. Bouncing ideas back and forth is how we learn and grow, and there’s no age limit on that!

On the topic of not wearing makeup, look, I know it’s hard to give it up. It’s hard when you’ve grown used to how your face looks with it on and you find your natural face to look…..off. Washed out. Not right. Icky. I get it.

But look. I am 42 years old, I have not exactly taken the best care of myself (WAY too much drinking/drugs/partying in my 20’s and 30’s) I don’t exercise nearly as much as I should and I’m just…..man, I’m just making it through each day. I don’t do facials or microdermabrasion or any of that shit. I have a vitamin c facial cleanser, rose water toner, and a vitamin c moisturizer. That’s it. I don’t wear makeup, I don’t do masks and treatments and peels on my face. I wear a sunhat with built in SPF when I’m outdoors and that is literally the full extent of what I do for my face.

And you gyns…..the number of times I have been mistaken for being AT LEAST ten years younger than I am is ASTOUNDING. I gave up makeup and let my skin heal and suddenly I went from “Oh you say you’re in your 40’s? That tracks” to “Bull fucking SHIT you’re 42!!! You’re maybe 30, TOPS, what the hell??” When I was still wearing makeup I once got mistaken for my husband’s MOTHER, okay?? And that man has silver all throughout his fucking hair.

Look, nobody really knows what any particular age looks like on any individual. I’ve known women in their 60’s that passed as peers of mine in my 20’s because they had gorgeous high cheekbones and skin like porcelain. I’ve known teenage boys that looked like fucking narcs. Nobody knows what any age is “supposed” to look like. But I CAN tell you that if you give up makeup and let your skin heal, you will look healthier and more vibrant than you ever have at any point with a layer of chemicals on your face. Maybe you’ll look younger maybe not, who cares? But your skin WILL be healthier, and it will show.

It’s hard to take the first step, and if you aren’t able to do it over a holiday break, you’ll probably have to accept that you’ll get some looks and comments from your peers. But I cannot stress enough how, once you make the adjustment, you’ll grow so used to and in love with your natural face that the idea of putting makeup on will disgust you; it will look weird and clownish and as “not right” as your natural face once did to you.

And the more of us that eschew makeup, the easier it will get for other women to follow in our footsteps. We lead by example and the more of us not wearing makeup there are, the more normal it will seem for other women.

If you can’t give it all up at once, try to scale it back. Ditch the eyeshadow and just do mascara. Ditch the concealer and just do a light foundation. Scale it back at your own pace, but with the end goal always being to completely eliminate it.

You will feel so much better for it. Eventually. Just push through to the other side.

[fatefulfaerie]

Treasure

Linktober 2022 prompt #26/31

Word Count: 2,029

Incarnation: Ocarina of Time AU

Trigger Warnings: Curse words (1)

The darkness of the night was reflected in the black garb of other thieves, who knew not of the organ inside their skull and were often caught at the first gate. 

Link, in contrast, branded a stately white, with crisp gloves and a shining invitation to the ball, a thief masquerading as a royalty-pressed nobleman with kind eyes and good intentions. His smirk was carefully hidden in the shadows. Otherwise, he was the portrait of a gentleman, with a soft stoicism that had all the ladies swooning in their corsets.

He had never been caught, which is why his face was something he could brandish, not something erringly etched onto a wanted poster, but something quite his own. He wore it proudly although he didn’t know the pair of lovers that gave it to him, and he didn’t care to find out.

He cared almost just as little for finding his own lover as he weaved through the crowds of suitors, some far too old for the ladies they were exchanging pleasantries with, some whose status and wealth was quite obviously their only attribute, and some who were more into their own looks than anyone else’s. Love was as far from this ballroom as it could be, and it was far from Link’s mind as well. The relic he was meant to steal would get him away from this sorry excuse for a kingdom for good, to a place where the rich didn’t get richer and the poor didn’t get poorer, where status didn’t determine whether or not you got food that week, where being born a bastard and dumped in an alley didn’t grant you a lifetime sentence of poverty.

Link placed his pristine invitation on the silver platter and was announced as Sir Castor, a name he carefully choose to be neither too outrageous nor too commonplace. Because no one recognized it, no one turned their heads except for the ladies who already had lustful eyes on him before. And, because it seemed like a name a nobleman would have, no one batted their eyes as Link continued through the crowd of people he tried not to roll their eyes at.

So superficial, he thought, with their ocean-deprived pearls scooping their necks and their ridiculously ornate maid-sewn suits flaunted as if they made them themselves. So ignorant, he thought as well, the lords and ladies in attendance complaining about such insignificant things, like how their servants don’t do this right or how their cook didn’t make that the way they preferred. Link tried not to have his blue eyes glare in contempt and jealousy as he caught bits of conversations, but soon enough he was out of earshot and ascending the stairs. His hands behind his back and his stride casual, he did so slowly, as if he were admiring the castle, the armaments. He wasn’t the only one, and thus he fit in like a charm.

There was a famous painting next to the royal chambers of the Princess that was one of the most visited spectacles. Link knew this even before he was given a tip about the relic in the Princess’ chambers, which is why he knew this job would be a piece of cake.

Literally.

He was munching on cake by the time he got up there, and there was only one other person admiring the painting. All Link had to do was pretend to ponder the work of art until the guy left, and so he did.

The painting was nothing really special to Link, or maybe he just didn’t get the whole art thing. He wondered at these snobby castle people more than he marveled at the painting. Was this their greatest form of entertainment? Idolizing the past? Staring at something unmoving? He supposed that made sense, considering the way Hyrule was operated.

The painting itself was of Hyrule Field, partly cloudy skies looking down upon rolling green hills. Death Mountain in the distance releasing a puff of smoke frozen in time and Hyrule Castle looking picture-perfect, as it always did.

“Stellar painting, isn’t it?” the man beside him said.

Conversation? Link inwardly balked. He just wanted to do this job and get out of here.

“For sure,” he lied. Was that convincing? How did rich people talk?

“Such a paramount sense of hope,” the man continued. “The artist had a great vision.”

Hope? That’s what this guy saw? Link had seen this same thing his whole life, the perfect castle that refused to be anything but a perfect castle. Link saw this and felt sad, hungry, deficient, lonely, isolated, almost angry. Not in the least bit hopeful.

“Indeed,” was the fanciest word Link could muster and luckily it was the last one he had to, the man soon politely excusing himself. Link opened the door to the Princess’ chambers and saw the relic almost immediately, illuminated by the moonlight in the dark, abandoned room.

It was a blue instrument called an ocarina, with a particular glass-like sheen and the emblem of the Hyrulean royal family painted onto it. He was told it was worth a fortune. Link didn’t understand why as he held it, as it seemed like any other ocarina he had seen. Maybe the fancy paint job? Who knew? Link pocketed it and went for the door.

“Zelda, I demand you get back down there this instant.”

Link’s hand froze on the doorknob and his eyes widened.

Zelda.

Princess Zelda.

Crap.

He raced to the center of the room and panicked, looking every which way frantically for a good place to hide until her visit to her chambers had passed. This was a room in the castle in which he could not get away with just saying he was sightseeing. This was treason. This was trespassing. This was a rookie mistake. This was…

Well this was a terribly drawn face on a wanted poster.

Link doved behind a wide chair and prayed. He didn’t know what god or goddess he prayed to, being an atheist, but he prayed.

The door opened and slammed shut, and soon candlelight illuminated the room. The princess huffed a sigh and the bed squeaked.

“Zelda!”

The door opened again, but this time it stayed open. Link’s inward panic increased. Only one person in the kingdom would call her highness by her given name, and not her title. Great, now the King was involved. This was a crime. This was an execution. This was Link’s head on a plate. This was…

Well this was actually a pretty infamous way to die. Not everyone got the honor of being ordered to be killed by the king himself.

“Can you just play nice with the suitors for one night?” He asked his daughter.

“They are twice my age,” Zelda reasoned, and Link felt a streak of pity for the young woman. “And one of them is thrice my age.”

“I’m not asking you to marry them, just to be cordial.”

Zelda scoffed.

“Oh yes, tonight I am to be cordial,” Zelda said. “But tomorrow, perhaps friendly, and the next ball scandalously flirtatious, and the next ball an engagement is announced, and the next ball you’ll be expecting a child on the way. I’m not doing this.”

There was a bout of silence, and Link would have thought the King had left if not for the absence of loud footsteps. The bed squeaked again. How old was this bed? Link imagined the King had sat next to his verklempt daughter.

“It’s not like that,” the king said, his tone noticeably softened. “I just want you to be happy. I’m sorry that these suitors are all I can offer you, but they are the best of the best. These noblemen have had the best education, the best combat training, and know the most of our history and politics.”

“I don’t want a man suited for King,” Zelda said. “I want a man suited for me. He could be an inbred peasant and I wouldn’t care as long as there’s love between us.”

“Zelda,” the King began, as if he were to break to his daughter some reality. “Love is–”

He obviously stopped himself, sighing.

“Love is what you deserve,” he said instead. “I’ll leave you be.”

The King stood up.

“What about the suitors?” Zelda asked. The King laughed.

“I think they already know exactly how you feel.”

His parting words were filled with knowledge and wisdom, and his departing footsteps would have relieved Link if they didn’t suggest that Zelda would not be leaving her room to go back downstairs.

Demand she at least rejoin the ball.

Demand she at least rejoin the ball.

Demand she at least rejoin the ball.

Link’s chants in his head did nothing and the King was gone.

Gone gone.

Damn it.

Link attempted to snake out from behind the chair and at first he was successful, the princess so deep in thought that she didn’t notice his stealthy footsteps. He opted still for the open door instead of the window, as the window was far more suspicious. Once he got to the painting, he could consider the job done.

“What did you take?”

The princess’ voice made him freeze in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around.

“I didn’t take anything, Your Highness,” Link said. “I mistook this for the lavatory and hid in panic once I heard your voice. My sincerest apologies.”

It was quick. The sensation of the Ocarina sliding away from his pocket was met with his own instinct, taking her by the wrist and with a swift motion pinning her to the floor. He held her wrists against it and somehow his finger was lodged in the exact place on her wrist to force her to loose her grip. The ocarina was free to take and yet Link didn’t budge.

You see, he looked at her blue eyes and he got it.

Art.

It was about capturing beauty.

Link panted, not out of fatigue as he expected, and not out of fear as the Princess was now–-after all a stranger who had broken into her chambers was now straddling her.

“You are an idiot,” she said. “You have not bound my mouth. My scream will ensure your quick death before you can even think of stripping me of my dignity.”

Her words had a bite to them, which if at all possible made Link fall for her even faster. He couldn’t believe himself. This job even now was still doable. He could flee out the window, he could even knock her unconscious and still walk away as a ballroom guest who had finally finished looking at the painting. He could frame that other guy, or even the King for assailing the princess and get off scot-free. He could sell the ocarina and be rich. Really rich. So rich he could buy his own castle and complain about his own servants.

But he stayed, straddling the princess–-who hadn’t screamed yet by the way--knees bent and digging into the carpet, hands holding his head above hers.

“I didn’t come here to rob you of your dignity,” he said. “Unless you’d like me to.”

The princess looked as if she was seriously considering it, sizing him up and down while biting her bottom lip, yet she apparently decided not to, her lustful expression fading and her head shaking.

“You heard my conversation with my father,” Zelda explained. “I don’t want my desperation to make me do something I’ll regret.”

Link nodded as he stepped away from her, standing up and letting her take the ocarina.

“I can’t be so desperate for love that I make it with the first handsome thief that crosses my path,” she explained, crossing past Link and placing the ocarina exactly where it was before.

Zelda didn’t turn around at first.

“But perhaps the second,” she said, turning towards Link, who was absolutely stunned by her ethereal beauty in the moonlight. “In fact I’ll be available for robbing tomorrow night if any handsome thieves don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Link stammered at first.

“I-I uh…” Link said weakly. “I can’t think of a single place.”

[silversatoru]

Can i regurst a gojo x reader smut where y/n is gojo’s ex girlfriend and also a strong jujutsu sorcerer and they get back together asdfghjkl 🥺😂? Tyy 🥺

hehhee yes ma’am here u are!!! i actually loved writing this one (i think i just have a thing for writing gojo lately lmao) anyway! i! hope! you! enjoy!

to heaven and back

gojo satoru x f! sorcerer!reader

synopsis: you and your ex, gojo satoru, beat the hell out of a few special grade curses and then head back to his house to rekindle an old (and kind of kinky) flame

tags/warnings: nsfw (18+), smut, handcuffs, blindfolding, little bit of oral sex, teasing, alcohol consumption, some fluff at the end? just a little

word count: 3.1k

You lifted your elegant glass of random wine that you could care less about knowing the name of, and took a long sip. All of these old rich bastards talked way too much about brand names, aging, and what cheese paired well with each wine. They were missing what was really important — which one would get you drunk the quickest. 

These kinds of formal events weren’t really your scene, and having to listen to a bunch of old, conservative, high-up jujutsu leaders was terribly boring — so why not take this opportunity to get a little tipsy? You deserved it for putting up with all of these assholes. After all, the only reason they invited you to this prestigious event was for protection. If that pesky band of special grade curses caught wind that all of the higher ups from both Kyoto and Tokyo were in the same place, they were sure to launch some kind of attack. The old, wrinkly douchebags couldn’t care less about your opinions of the jujutsu world and how you would change it, they only liked you for incredible cursed technique. 

And so here you were, spitefully wearing your most elegant dress and downing glasses of wine in an attempt to drown out all of the nonsense around you. There was only one thing that could make this event any worse and— 

“Hello everyone! The strongest jujutsu sorcerer has arrived — I know you were all looking forward to my appearance”. 

And there it was. There was that one thing that could make this event any worse. Gojo Satoru.

You dipped your head low, burying yourself in your glass of wine and praying to any god who would listen to not let this man see you. It’s been over two years since the two of you broke up, but he still wasn’t someone you enjoyed running into. 

Gojo was terribly notorious for having a long line of girls at his disposal, and with his incredible strength and annoyingly good-looks, it wasn’t hard to understand why. The two of you had never been in an officially committed relationship, and so technically Gojo was free to do as he pleased — but you were practically dating and your heart ached every time you caught wind of him being with another woman. And so two years ago you cut things off with him for good — you were tired of being the one he always ran back to at the end of the day. 

He’d looked at you with eyes full of pain that night, begging and pleading to stay with him. He showed you a vulnerable side to him that you had never seen before — and he swore to you that if you had asked to make things official, he would have committed himself to you fully. You declined however, because you felt like you shouldn’t have needed to ask for that kind of thing — but maybe that was just your ego getting in the way. 

“Hey, beautiful, I’ve never seen you around before, you must be from the Tokyo campus,” Some random assistant casually leaned against the counter you were sitting at and shook you out of your thoughts.

“If you’ve never seen me before then you must not be very important,” You shot him a distasteful glance, taking another sip of your wine. 

The man’s face lit up with panic — he must not have been expecting such retaliation to his pathetic attempt of flirting. 

“Are you bothering her?” A familiar voice came from behind you — a long, slender hand slapping down onto your shoulder, “Please don’t flirt with my wife”. 

“Ah- Wife? I’m so sorry, sir,” The man stumbled over his words, bowing his head to Gojo and scurrying away. 

Gojo wasted no time sliding into the seat next to you and pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle you’d already been working on. 

“Really? You’re telling people I’m your wife now?” You gave him a deadpanned look. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his glass. 

You rolled your eyes hard, “Why are you here, Satoru?” 

“Same reason as you. The old, conservative pussies are afraid those special grades might attack — so why not invite their two prized sorcerers to protect them?” 

“Fair,” You let out a heavy sigh, “Not sure that was their best move though — I don’t think either one of us is very motivated to save these fuckers”. 

“No, but I brought my students with me today. So, if anything does happen, make sure you put on a show for them,” He winked, already topping off his wine glass. 

You looked over to see a few kids sitting a couple tables away from the two of you, chatting amongst themselves and wondering why the fuck they had to be here. 

And so an hour or two went by, and to your surprise, you found yourself laughing hysterically alongside Gojo. The two of you had definitely drank a bit too much, and your personalities complimented each other a little too perfectly. You shared the same terrible sense of humor and he had quite the knack for bringing out this lighthearted side of you. You had missed moments like this these past two years. 

Neither of you were paying any attention to the current debate that was occurring between the higher ups when a loud crash sent broken pieces of glass flying through the grand hall. Sure enough, the curses had made their appearance and came flying into the building through a now broken window.

“It’s our time to shine, huh?” Gojo looked over at you, and you imagined that his icy blue eyes were swirling with excitement under that mask. 

“Yeah, let’s make this quick,” You found a warm ball of excitement churning in your own stomach — it’d been a long time since the two of you had fought together. 

Your technique revolved around the manipulation of cursed energy and converting it into light. You could wrap yourself in a shield of light, send curse-filled bursts of light at your enemies, and move at the speed of light as well — which was almost as efficient as Gojo’s teleportation abilities. You had a series of more advanced moves as well, but those required more energy output and therefore you used them a little less often.

The two of you were both able to move so fast that the curses really didn’t stand a chance. You found yourself laughing as you flipped through the air, hurling balls of light at the curses as Gojo worked closer in hand-to-hand combat. At one point, while the two of you were flying past each other, Gojo stuck out his hand and gave you a high five, both of you smiling like maniacs who enjoyed fighting a little too much. 

Between Gojo’s Limitless and your extreme agility and bursts of light, the curses were quickly forced to flee. Both of you were feeling much too drunk and much too lazy to chase after them, even with all of the higher ups begging you to do so. Gojo simply flipped them off and stuck out his tongue, saying that he did what they paid him to do — keep the curses away — and now that the curses had been scared off, he was no longer needed. 

“You want to come back with me, relieve more of our old memories together? I remember how much you loved sleeping in my king sized bed,” Gojo looked back at you, offering one of his large, slender hands. 

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was your stupid, stupid heart, but you reached out and took his hand, “Fuck it, let’s go”. 

Gojo’s house on the outskirts of the Tokyo campus was just as you remembered — sleek black interior with modern furniture and extravagantly silky sheets on his bed — his same bed that you were currently sprawled out on, laying in nothing but your undergarments. 

Gojo joined you a couple minutes later, his bare skin warm and familiar against yours. He pressed a few sloppy kisses to your lips, both of you still incredibly tipsy and unable to stop the small giggles from leaking out between your lips while you kissed. 

“Take the blind fold off you weirdo,” You pulled at the back of the black fabric. 

“Mmm, okay,” He mumbled, undoing the knot and exposing his piercing blue eyes.

“So pretty,” You murmured under your breath — his eyes really were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in your life

His fluffy silver hair fell down messily over his face, a drunken smile stretched across his lips. His smile quickly turned into a devilish grin as he slipped the mask over your eyes instead, tying a tight not at the back of your head.

“This isn’t what I meant,” You droned, but you didn’t argue — you certainly weren’t opposed to being blindfolded.

“It looks good on you,” He slurred, his words messy and his lips even messier as he pressed them back against yours. 

The kisses seemed to last forever, and both of you were perfectly okay with that — your hands taking their time exploring each other’s bodies for the first time in far too long. 

Gojo’s hands worked their way up your back, tracing lines along your toned muscles until he finally reached the nape of your neck. His fingers entangled themselves in your hair, soft hums coming from his lips.

“I still have handcuffs, if you’re still into that sort of thing,” he mused, massaging his fingertips into your scalp. 

“Damn, I can’t believe you remember what I like. I thought my preferences would have gotten lost among the sea of other women you were pleasing,” You let the snarky remark roll off your tongue, though there was clearly no real spite in your words — you’re both adults and what happened then was in the past now.

“It wasn’t even that many,” He defended, “And you were the only one who ever mattered”. 

“I’m flattered,” You laughed, “Now, where are those handcuffs?” 

Gojo stifled a deep laugh, his hands leaving your hair as he lifted himself up and stood from the bed. When he returned a few moments later, there was cool metal wrapping around both of your wrists. He had two sets of handcuffs, putting one on each wrist and then hooking the other side to the bed posts. 

You were entirely at his disposal now, your hands secured over your head and your vision blocked off by the black mask. 

“I could tickle you right now and there’s nothing you could do,” Gojo observed aloud, pressing kisses up the side of your torso.

“Satoru, I would kick the living shit out of you,” You threaten, goosebumps growing under your skin. 

“Yeah, but you can’t touch me unless I let you,” He retaliated, his soft hands reaching underneath your bra to feel your breasts.

You groaned in response — his Limitless really did make him impossible.

He cupped each of his hands around your firm lumps, gently massaging them between his fingers. His cool fingertips then made their way down to your lower body, swiftly removing your remaining underwear. You were now completely exposed to him, chills running down your spine as you wondered what he would do next. 

You heard a shaky breath leave his lips, his hungry hands massaging circles into your thighs, “God, you’re so beautiful. I missed you so much, you know that?” 

“I’m sure you did,” You breathed, “I’m a wonderful person to be around”. 

Gojo let out a hearty laugh, and you heard what you assumed to be the sound of his own underwear getting thrown to the floor. A few seconds later he was straddling your torso, his warm thighs wrapped around your body. You couldn’t see it, but you knew his massive member had to be right in front of your face now. 

“Remind me what that pretty mouth can do,” He cooed, pressing the tip of his length gently to your lips. 

You graciously granted him access, parting your lips and taking the head of his cock into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive tip, earning a few twitches from Gojo’s body. You began to bob your head back and forth as much as the handcuffs allowed, a few quiet moans leaving his throat in response. 

He began to move his hips against you, gingerly pushing his member deeper and deeper into your mouth until you were taking the full length down your throat. He groaned and let a few curse words slide from between his teeth — your mouth was wrapped so perfectly around him. Tears pricked at your eyes and a couple rough gags ripped through your throat, Gojo finally pulling away and allowing you to catch your breath. 

After that, you felt a single one of his long, slim fingers slide into your mouth, and you wasted no time wrapping it in your tongue and sucking hard. 

“Good girl,” He murmured, plucking his finger back out of your mouth and moving it down to your aching entrance. 

Between the saliva on his finger and the slick juices around your opening — his finger slid in effortlessly. He started moving in quick movements, curling his finger up into your g-spot each time. A few light moans left your lips, your fists clenching in the cuffs as your yearned for more. His finger felt good, but you wanted the real thing — you needed it.

“Satoru, please,” You practically whined his name, a tiny bit ashamed for how desperate you were for him right now. 

“Patience, love,” He clicked his tongue and your heart did somersaults at the endearing name. 

He removed his singular finger and intertwined it with a second one before sliding them back into your cavern. He picked up a steady pace again, your breath hitching in your throat. Two fingers was certainly better than one, but the continuous teasing was just making you even more desperate to feel his member inside of you. You mumbled his name over and over, small pleads and shameless whispers leaving your mouth as you bucked your hips against his hands.

“No ones fucked you as good as I used to, have they? You’re horribly desperate right now” He clicked his tongue again, removing his fingers and moving them up to your clit. He rubbed the smallest, softest circles against the small nub, your core growing warmer with desire. 

“I won’t make you wait any longer then,” He whispered, sitting back and positioning the head of his length against your throbbing cunt. 

“Please,” You mumbled fervently, any ego or pride that you once had was completely down the drain now. 

Your pleads were finally rewarded, Gojo pressing himself deep into your tight walls. The immediate feeling was complete bliss, your head rolling back in pleasure as you heard a throaty moan creep it’s way out of Gojo’s mouth. His moans were so pretty — god, you’d missed the sound of them.  

He moved in and out at a tantalizingly slow pace at first, your hips bucking and wiggling as you made fervent attempts to make him go faster.

“So eager…” He shook his head, continuing to move at a pace that was absolutely agonizing — you thought you might die if he didn’t rail the hell out of you soon. 

“Please, fuck,” You gasped, “Stop moving so goddamn slowly”. 

“Your whines are so pretty, baby. Say my name and maybe I’ll give you what you want,” He murmured, his voice low and husky. 

“Fucking hell,” You gritted your teeth, “Please Satoru, please fuck me already”. 

“Shit,” He mumbled under his breath, your words sending electricity coursing through his body. 

After hearing you say that, he was quick to give you what you wanted, picking up his pace and wrapping his hands firmly around your hips. Strangled combinations of moans, whimpers, and cries filled the air as they flew from your mouth. You didn’t care how loud or desperate you sounded, you wanted him to know how good he was making you feel. 

The two of you were an entangled mess of sweaty skin and throaty moans, Gojo filling your ears with praises and compliments the entire time. His lengthy member railed into you over and over, hitting that perfect pleasure point with each stroke and sending warm surges of ecstasy through your veins. 

Your bodies moved together in sync, your breaths aligning and your climaxes threatening to arrive simultaneously. After a few more firm strokes, you felt yourself drowning in pleasure — euphoria crashing through your body like waves. Gojo reached his end point just a few moments later, his loud cuss words and strangled moans filling your ears. 

The two of you rode out your orgasms together, and almost immediately afterwards Gojo collapsed next to you. He lazily reached up and uncuffed each of your hands, leaving the cuffs dangling from his bed posts just in case there was a round two in his future. He rolled the sticky condom off his member and tossed into a nearby trash bin, a relaxed sigh slipping between his parted lips. You peeled the black mask off of your eyes, finally able to meet his again. 

He was staring at you with eyes filled with all kinds of emotions — the emotions that he’d been too afraid to admit to the first time the two of you were together. But he wasn’t afraid of commitment anymore, he was absolutely certain about what he wanted, and it was you. 

“Stay with me,” He asked, his eyes pleading with you, “I’m ready this time, I promise. I’m all yours, if you’ll have me”. 

You found a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you looked deeper into his eyes, “Of course I’ll stay, as long as you still feel this way when you wake up sober tomorrow”. 

“I’ll feel this way forever,” He pressed his head into you and mumbled into your chest, “And I’ll remind you as many times as you need to hear it”. 

You wrapped your arms around him in response, the two of you fitting impeccably together. He placed a few gentle kisses to your skin before his breathes began to slow. You found your own breathing to be evening out, your cloudy thoughts pushing you closer and closer to sleep. The two of you slowly drifted off together, your heavy breaths falling perfectly in sync.

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋