#voting is not the end all be all of activism by a long shot but aiding voter suppresion by trying to convince folks it doesnt matter

[dragongirlbunny]

i am just going to start blocking posts insisting that there is zero difference between dems and reps because while democrats suck they are also not actively trying to murder me and my loved ones which is a pretty fucking substantial difference

[sunkendreams]

Idk exactly what to ask for, but I have an ✨idea✨

Dwayne who seemingly has a penchant for choking his SO. He just loves the little whimpers and moans they make, and the way they squirm.

Really basic, ik 💀. You can take this and run, or simply enjoy this thought with me, but I wanted to share 🥰

moving in stereo.

( dwayne x fem!reader. )

➾ pairing ; dwayne x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.9K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), making out, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, breeding kink, scent kink, p in v sex, missionary position, rough sex, begging, unprotected sex, mating press (a little bit), choking, bruising/marking, dwayne is hot

author’s note: i am so obsessed with him, it’s not even funny ngl :’) also, I have a couple of other fics/drabbles that I’ll probably post tonight too, I’m definitely feeling very inspired! If you haven’t voted on my poll, please do so! thank you guys sm for your continued love & support !! ❤️

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”

[wordsbyrian]

The Owl and The Lioness - Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: Rugby player!R meets Alessia Russo and things go from there.

A/N: This is the fic I made you guys vote on me writing like a week ago. Also does anyone else feel like I'm writing these pretty fast because I have 3 other fics just waiting to be posted and a 4th in progress.

As a rugby player, you can honestly say that you do not spend much time thinking about football.

In all honesty, you can’t say that you’ve spent more than ten minutes thinking about it in the last 10 years, but that’s all about to change today.

Today, you along with the rest of England’s women's national rugby team are at St. George’s Park because apparently, it would look good if the Red Roses were seen supporting the Lionesses and vice versa before your major tournaments.

You’ve never been more uncomfortable than you are right now standing in front of these footballers in your training kit.

The two sets of captains and coaches are currently trying to figure out the best way to go about this faux joint training. They don’t take very long and before you know it, you and your fellow wings Jess, Ellie, and Lydia are standing with their strikers.

“I’m Beth. That’s Bethany, Nikita, and Alessia,” the newly identified Beth says.

“I’m Lydia and that’s Jess, Ellie, and Owl,” Lydia says, smirking as she purposely tries to wind you up by using your nickname.

“It’s Y/N,” you say, barely loud enough to be heard.

“Speak up Owl,” your teammates say at nearly the same time with identical eye rolls.

Taking a deep breath you try again, voice coming out at a normal volume, “My name is Y/N.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Alessia give you a small grin, which you return despite the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

It’s then that the drills start and you find yourself silently showing her the correct way to pass a rugby ball and the correct way to tackle, chuckling softly as she and her three teammates struggle to bring you down.

In turn, she shows you how to do keepy-ups and how to use your laces to add some power to your shots.

The very last activity of the day is a foot race and it involves most of their team taking on the backs from yours.

“You’re all about to learn why we call her the Owl,” you hear Jess shout from somewhere down the line.

There’s a bit of laughter from your team and even a couple of ‘yeah rights’ from the footballers, but you’re not paying attention to any of that. Your eyes are locked onto the pole at the opposite end of the field, your finish for the race.

All you need is for their coach to blow the whistle and the second she does you’re gone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that at least two of the footballers are slightly ahead of you but you’re not worried about that. 

Your only concern is beating your teammates, which you do by a lot. 

Upon turning around you see that most of the runners are still a good 15 meters back.

It doesn’t take very long before your teammates are circling you and ruffling your hair though.

“Way to fly Owl,” your captain shouts, hooking her arm around your shoulders, “Really did us proud little rose.”

“Thought I should show that we’re not all big brutes like you, boss,” you respond quietly, a small grin on your face.

She doesn’t find it as funny as you do though taking the opportunity to put you in a headlock.

You struggle against her for a while, not making any progress towards escaping until the coaches call the two teams back in front of them.

Neither of the coaches says anything important, not in your opinion anyway, and they release the two sides to mingle and get ready to go.

Not one for talking with people, you go to gather your stuff and are slightly surprised when a shadow appears above you.

Looking up, you're surprised to see one of the football players standing above you. You recognize her having seen her talking to Alessia earlier.

“Hey Owl, I’m Ella,” she says, “My idiot friend Alessia over there thinks that you’re cute but is too nervous to ask you for your number, so I’m doing it for her.”

“What,” you say confused, “You’re asking me for my number for your friend?”

“Yup.”

Shaking your head, you pull a piece of paper and a pen out of your bag before writing down your number, accompanied by both your name and nickname.

Handing it over, you ask Ella to deliver a message for you, cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Tell her that I think she’s cute too.”

Over the next few months, you and Alessia spend a considerable amount of time texting and getting to know each other.

When United make their way down to London for games, you take her on dates and show her all of your favorite spots, and the few times your team makes their way to the Manchester area, she does the same.

This of course garners some teasing from your teammates, who have taken to reminding you that most owl species mate for life every time they see you leaving a room to talk to her on the phone.

It’s during one of these phone calls, a facetime to be specific, that her phone gets hijacked by Ella and Mary.

“‘Lo there Owl,” Ella says, accent strong as ever, “I was wondering if you could solve an argument for me.”

“I mean, maybe?”

“Do they call you Owl because you’re fast like a bird or,” Ella’s cut off by Mary snatching the phone away.

“Or because you’re really quiet,” the keeper finishes.

“It’s both,” you answer, “Most owl species can average speeds of 20 mph but they can fly faster in certain situations. The crazy thing is that despite going so fast they make very little noise, virtually silent in fact.

The look on the two players' faces causes you to grin a little because you know exactly why they’re those faces: they’ve never heard you say so many words at once before.

They manage to say as much before Less takes her phone back telling them to  “say bye to Owl.”

You smile a little more as the two others rush off, already arguing about something else.

“What are you doing next month,” she asks when they finally leave the room.

After thinking about it for a moment you answer her, “Season ends this week so probably some recovery work and injury prevention to prepare for the world cup and next season.”

“Do you want to come to some of our matches during the Euros?”

“Do you want me to come to your matches at the Euros,” you ask back, watching as her cheeks flush before she nods, “Well if you want me there, I’ll come.”

A smile breaks out on her face and the two of you continue your conversation. 

Although you can’t seem to get a clear answer from her about what she’ll be doing for the rest of the week, which is weird.

You do your best to not focus on it and by the time your championship game comes around you’ve forgotten all about her squirrelly behavior.

Then when the final whistle blows, you’re too caught up in your exhaustion and excitement to even remember anything that happened before the game started.

When the whistle blows, you drop to the ground not having the energy to celebrate winning the game and becoming a champion.

You aren’t sure how long you lay there before your teammates come and dogpile on top of you screaming about your performance.

You then find yourself being hauled to your feet by your scrumhalf, Jane, who immediately pulls you into a hug that takes you off your feet.

The smiles don’t leave any of your faces as you shake your opponents' hands. They don't leave when you get the medals put around your necks or when you raise the trophy or when you approach the crowd that hasn’t stopped screaming since the first whistle.

It’s then that you notice a head of blonde hair and bright blue eyes that you would recognize anywhere.

Rushing to the crowd, you climb the barrier meant to keep fans off the pitch, ignoring the shouts of security, and sprint to the person you’ve been looking forward to seeing for weeks.

Pulling her into a hug, you speak directly into her ear, “You said that you wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“I lied, you played great today, baby. Three tries, congrats champ.”

Your cheeks heat slightly at her praise, so instead of responding, you press a kiss to the top of her head, content to just stand there holding her.

Eventually, she pushes you away, sending you back to celebrate with your team.

“We’ll be switching places at the end of next month,” you tell her before walking away.

And you’re right because, on the last day of July, you’re standing in a sold-out Wembley watching as your girlfriend (recent development) and her idiot friends jump around singing Sweet Caroline.

She eventually makes her way over to where you're sitting with her family in the crowd, climbing to the barrier to get a hug.

“I’m proud of you,” you say directly in her ear, not caring about the number of cameras on you. In your mind, if she cared she wouldn’t have leapt into your arms the way she did, so you continue with your praise of her performance, “You played amazing all tournament, Less.”

“Thank you.”

She pulls away and you can see the cogs turning in her mind, her eyes repeatedly flickering to your lips before she surges forward to kiss you.

You both end up smiling into it as the cheers of the crowd around you get louder at the sight.

Pulling back, you smile at her some more before sending her back to the field to continue celebrating with her team.

Pulling your phone out you send her a text that you know she won’t see until much later tonight.

It reads: I can see the headlines now, England’s Superb Lioness and Their Speedy Owl, An Unexpected Power Couple?

[lailoken]

This is sort of awkward and not something I've ever done before, but I'm feeling desperate to help someone in need, and this is the best way I can think to at the moment. In particular, I'm hoping that at least some of my followers will be willing to read this and take the time to cast a vote for a web contest.

I have a friend I've known for over ten years who is going through hell right now. She has struggled with severe depression since young childhood, but she has always done what she can to soldier on and find meaning. Then, not too long ago, when she was finally beginning to find some happiness, her sister (who was her dearest friend and closest ally) passed away in a very traumatic way due to a brain tumor that greatly affected her cognition and personality. Then, while trying to pick up the pieces again following her sister's death, my friend was in a car accident that caused her eye socket to shatter and her eye to collapse. She was rushed to the hospital where they barely saved the eye itself, but she lost her retina and has major scarring down her face now. The partial blindness and scarring are hard enough on their own, but they're especially awful for her, as she was working as a model and visual artist before all this. Needless to say, this has been the worst time of her life, and I feel beyond heartbroken for her.

The contest I'm sharing is actually one that my friend's cousin is entered in, but the winner gets $25K, which she wants to use to help pay off their family's mounting medical bills. I've been trying to keep up with the contest, since it's the least I can do beyond donating meagerly to their gofundme, but it's getting towards the end now and so the contest has become very close. It gives you the option to pay certain amounts to give that same number of votes, but it also has a way to cast a free vote that involves signing in with Facebook info or entering your Card information (though, it wont be charged unless you actively purchase votes.)

I hate to ask this sort of thing, but I also hate that people the U.S. are forced to seek financial support of this sort for medical attention in the first place. I don't have many people I can ask to support something like this, so I thought I would give posting it here a shot. Please consider checking in daily to cast your vote, so that this family can get some semblance of relief. Additionally, sharing this post would be helpful as well, and if you'd rather donate directly to my friend's gofundme, I will include a link that as well. And please, pray for my friend if you are so inclined; she needs all the help she can get right now.

Contest Link: X

Medical gofundme: X

[mugram]

Good afternoon, Wardens.

You may be wondering why I have seemingly been absent from this project.

For anyone wondering, I may take a brief break to prioritize school once Isamu's trial ends.

That's really the big part of the announcement, but I will provide an explanation for everything below the cut if you'd like to know.

What does this mean for MUGRAM?

Birthday timelines will posted at the right times and I will try to continue with the schedule for the regular timelines.

However, all prisoner trials left will be put on hold as I try to look into a few details that are bothering me.

I feel as though I am not giving you all the best feel for each character yet and the best way to do that is to properly sit down, analyze them, and write them so I understand them more.

Subtopic: Isamu's Trial

I will give Isamu extra weeks for his voting to run once I come back with Mia and their interrogation. I'd feel bad if I didn't give him a fair shot compared to everyone else.

Why?

To explain the break, I'm doing fine at school. Please don't worry that I was prioritizing MUGRAM over my grades. I'm going to get extremely busy over the upcoming weeks due to theater and one of my classes giving me a midterm. That same class also has me working on a historical research paper, so I would like to get that done as soon as possible.

Additionally, I like using my free time for myself rather than work and MUGRAM has recently begun to feel like another thing I have to work on.

Why now?

It's not actually like I've been particularly active with pushing MUGRAM recently. I took about a month break to adjust to my new classes and I've only recently returned. But, really, I just want to take more time work on the project when it's not actively running.

It's really nice to see all of these new followers interested in MUGRAM, and for that, I thank you for your interest in my project.

How long will this break be?

Hopefully, not long. As aforementioned, one of my classes has lots to do, and while my classes provide me with a lot of free time, the presentation for that research paper might take me a while to work on.

Final Words

I genuinely, and I mean this with my full heart, LOVE MUGRAM and I appreciate everyone who also enjoys my characters.

I truly want to provide you all with interesting characters and story, but I can't do that if I'm constantly fretting about if the next trial is on, if I did the timelines, or the reception of the MV was well-received while also working on schoolwork and additional things.

Thank you all SO SO MUCH for putting up with my trial and interrogation delays. Any interest in my project delights me, and it makes me so happy people like my characters.

I promise to come back with something I enjoy and that you all will as well. And, hey, if you don't like it, then I don't mind. This project is entirely self-indulgent.

So, for my final message:

(also happy early birthday isamu :])

[ridenwithbiden]

It’s often said that Donald Trump has a cultlike following. But that’s far too benign. “Star Wars” has a cultlike following. Taylor Swift has her cult of “Swifties.” A political organization that has no platform other than loyalty to the leader is not a cult, it’s an autocratic movement.

The tragicomic chaos in the House in the last week is the natural result of a political party that has lived under Trump’s thumb. It should end any pretense that the current Republican Party is a serious governing party.

As Hannah Arendt wrote in “The Origins of Totalitarianism”: “Total loyalty is possible only when fidelity is emptied of all concrete content, from which changes of mind might naturally arise. The totalitarian movements, each in its own way, have done their utmost to get rid of the party programs which specified concrete content and which they inherited from earlier, non‑totalitarian stages of development.”

It seems like another time in another galaxy, but not that long ago there actually was some ideological diversity within the Republican Party.

In 1966, Time ran a cover story highlighting the winners of the 1966 midterm elections as a “Republican Resurgence,” after the Goldwater defeat of 1964. Time’s editors selected six Republicans as being emblematic of this rebirth: California Gov. Ronald Reagan, Michigan Gov. George Romney, Illinois Sen. Charles Percy, Oregon Sen. Mark Hatfield, Massachusetts Sen. Edward Brooke and New York Gov. Nelson Rockefeller.

The six governors and senators had differences of opinion on almost all major issues. Hatfield, deeply influenced by his service in World War II, never voted for a bill to authorize U.S. military engagement. He was one of only two Republican senators who voted against the 1991 Gulf War.

With Sen. George McGovern, Hatfield co-sponsored 1971 legislation calling for a complete withdrawal from Vietnam. Reagan, on the other hand, was consistently supportive of the Vietnam War and campaigned against the creation of Medicaid.

In the 1990s and early 2000s, the Republican governors who were pro-choice governed states with a larger collective population than the Republican antiabortion governors. Bill Weld of Massachusetts, Pennsylvania’s Tom Ridge, Arnold Schwarzenegger in California and New York’s George Pataki all were proudly pro-choice.

Today, there are no Republican governors who support abortion rights, and many are actively working to criminalize abortions in their states. The Republican Party three decades ago was overwhelmingly a white-dominated party, but it allowed for at least some dissent and disagreement.

While it is difficult to attribute any deliberate or methodical plan to Donald Trump, whose mind operates like an old-fashioned pinball machine on tilt, his basic antidemocratic, strongman instincts have crushed dissent in the Republican Party, empowering the underlying authoritarian impulses within the party. A once-center-right political party with core ideological principles is now marching toward the formation of an autocratic state.

It’s possible that Trump will not be the Republican nominee in 2024, but his success in molding the party to his image ensures that anyone who wins will continue down an authoritarian path.

When Ron DeSantis ran for governor of Florida in 2018, he aired a commercial showing his toddler daughter building a border wall with toy blocks, followed by a shot of him holding his infant son and reading from a book, “Then Mr. Trump said, ‘You’re fired.’” His wife also appeared in the ad, saying, “People say Ron is all Trump, but he is so much more.”

What’s unfolding in the Republican Party is an inevitable step in the cycle of authoritarian movements. What once was deemed sufficiently pure is judged to be inadequate and in need of purging.

The Night of the Long Knives, the murder of Leon Trotsky, the Red Guards, the Khmer Rouge — each was the result of a radical movement further purifying its core membership and ideology, and something very similar is taking place among today’s Republicans.

When Trump emerged in 2015, he was initially rejected by Republican voters. In May 2015, Donald Trump polled at 3% among Republicans and Republican-leaning independent voters. While it’s not unusual for a new and still-unknown candidate to start with a low number, Trump had almost a 100% name recognition among potential voters.

Republicans knew who he was; they just didn’t like him. A May 2015 Washington Post–ABC News poll found that just over 20% of Republicans viewed Trump favorably. By early December 2015 — and after his attack on John McCain’s war record, his mocking of a disabled reporter and his calling for a Muslim ban — Trump had surged to his largest lead during the Republican primary, opening up a 35%-to-16% margin over Ted Cruz.

Jeb Bush, who led the field in early polling, was by then at the same 3% level of support that Trump had in May. The media coverage of Trump’s rise evidenced an unwillingness to grasp Trump’s appeal. “Donald Trump Leads Florida Polls, Despite Call for Muslim Travel Ban” was the headline in the New Times Broward–Palm Beach. “Trump Poll Surge Continues Despite Backlash Over Muslim Ban,” trumpeted the Dec. 10, 2015, broadcast of Voice of America News.

This was like reporting that Jim Beam sold a lot of bourbon even though it contained alcohol. Trump was rising with Republican voters because of his racism and religious bigotry.

There was no backlash with the majority of Republican primary voters. The exact opposite was occurring. Trump’s hate was creating a surge of appeal.

Donald Trump understood the true nature of the Republican Party better than the party’s leaders. “This suggestion is completely and totally inconsistent with American values,” then-Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell said as he denounced Trump’s proposed Muslim ban. “I do not think it is reflective of our principles, not just as a party but as a country,” then-House Speaker Paul Ryan said of the ban.

But it was his call for a Muslim ban that helped Trump clinch the 2016 nomination. McConnell and Ryan and the establishment donor class of the Republican Party would never admit publicly that the xenophobia and racism that appealed to Trump voters were far more motivating to Republican voters than the small-government, low-taxes, constitutionally conservative so‑called “values” they insisted were the true core of the party.

But their commitment to their deeply held beliefs was so weak that they now supported a man who bragged he was “the king of debt,” refused to release his tax returns to show he even paid taxes and whose Muslim ban was a religious test that was anathema to constitutional principles.

They didn’t care about anything but remaining in power, and they thought they could use Trump while controlling him.

There is a childlike need for many Republicans in what was once “the establishment” to believe that the Trump years were some aberration, that the party was “hijacked” by Donald Trump. The problem with this is that the passengers on the hijacked plane do not cheer for the terrorist. But in the Republican Party, the hijacker is the most popular person on the plane.

Trump and Trumpism dominate the Republican Party because he represents what the Republican Party wants to be. There is no “normal” for the party to return to. It is an autocratic movement, not a traditional American political party. To believe this movement cannot win and end democracy as we know it would be as dangerously naive as thinking that the Donald Trump who announced his candidacy in 2015 with 3% of support within the party could never be elected president.

None of us can choose history, but history can choose us. The fate of the American experiment is in our hands. America or Trump? The next 13 months will decide our future.

Stuart Stevens is an advisor to the Lincoln Project, a political consultant and the author of several books. This article is an adapted excerpt from his latest book, “The Conspiracy to End America: Five Ways My Old Party Is Driving Our Democracy to Autocracy,” which will be published Oct. 10.

[venus-is-thinking]

Disventure Camp All Stars Power Ranking (Round 13 - Venus)

Recap: Yul's Elimination (8/9 pts)

Total Points: 8/9

Well, I sure did rank those powers! Not bad for a first week, I think. Yul's elimination was pretty obvious, but I did think it was possible to likely that we'd set up some other plotlines with some other characters BEFORE getting rid of Yul.

Instead, the Yul plot thread is over, and other than the Alec/Riya kiss, we don't have that many active plot threads. We're probably gonna start some new ones this episode! The scary thing is that if we're starting the plot threads next episode, I have, like... almost nothing to go off of for this week's power rankings. I'm not even good at trailer analysis like Accirax, soooo... good luck to me, I guess.

Anyways, here's my best shot! I fully expect this to be my worst week this season!

1: Gabby

I really struggled with where to put Gabby. She and Grett just completed a major friendship plotline, so like... where to?

I don't really think either Grett or Gabby will go down this episode, just because I think it'd be nice to have a full episode of them getting to be friends without Yul being there without one of them getting kicked out at the end. Sacred space. Plus, if you roughly assume the heroes are still working together, as are Alec and Riya, Gabby and Grett might be swing votes. I assume they'll be working together, but there's reason to believe the pair might go in either direction. That gives them power, at least in the short term.

2: Grett

However, unlike Gabby, I think Grett is more at risk of going home. Grett's arc this season is clearly about breaking free from needing Yul's approval and finding a genuine friend in Gabby. I think it would be sort of fucked up to have her realize Gabby is the friend she always needed and then IMMEDIATELY cut that friend out of the game, leaving her alone again. Plus, I'm not sure exactly what Gabby's arc is, whereas Grett has pretty clearly completed hers.

That being said, I'm only barely putting Grett in the bottom half. I still don't really think she's going home for the reasons I mentioned in the Gabby section. I could definitely see her going soon, if she's not intended to be an end gamer, but I definitely also think she could be. Grett as a final 3 pick with Gabby on her bench feels really viable to me. I even think she could win, if they wanted a pretty thoroughly redeemed villain.

3: Jake

When in doubt, hopefully my winner pick is safe.

I just feel like Jake's been set up to have more character to arc! He's definitely getting better about working with other people and not being incredibly paranoid and all that, but he's still got some room to go until he finishes his arc.

It seems like he's fighting with someone (could be literally anyone lol) in the trailer for this week's episode, which also means that he's not above bickering or anything. He's still Jake.

Basically, that's a long way to say that it seems like this season has big plans for Jake, and I don't think they'd take him out with little enough setup. I do worry a LITTLE bit putting him so high, just because there's probably a lot of people who'd be willing to vote Jake, but I just don't see it happening from a narrative perspective.

4: Alec

My list, my rules. Alec is GOING to go further, trust me bro.

In all seriousness, I don't think Alec would go home this upcoming episode. He's spent a lot of the season being a successful mastermind, and it seems like last episode kicked off his cringefail loser arc. I think it'd be sad to only give him two episodes to be a cringefail loser, plus it might be a little unsatisfying if he just... leaves off there. Obviously there'd still be the losers' motel; similar to how Ally and Hunter wanted to work things out off screen, it could make sense if, say, Alec and Riya got to talk without the cameras being on. Still, I think Alec's got at least a few more episodes in him.

Obvious cons: Alec is a super big threat (he won like 3 challenges in a row and probably only lost last challenge because he didn't claim a superpower) and is running short on allies. I'm kind of assuming the villain/hero dichotomy is largely dead after last episode, and I don't know how much loyalty, say, Grett and Gabby would have if they're not bound by the alliance. Alec is also seen talking to both Connor and Riya in the trailer, which could be a good way to tie up some of his loose threads.

Whatever, he hasn't failed me before. Just win immunity again or something.

5: Connor

Still cannot shake the unshakable feeling that Connor has More To Do. He once again wasn't super important last episode, so everything I said last time about him needing to do more to justify being the returnee still holds. This time, he's at least talking to Alec, which probably means development for both of them. He'll also probably be very cringe in the seemingly TikTok themed challenge, so there's that.

As with the two above him, I'd be a bit worried about Connor pulling votes again, given that he was the previous target of the villains. However, I don't REALLY think anyone heroes side would vote for him, meaning that he shouldn't pull a majority of the votes, at least.

Additionally, I think it's very possible he'll be a major part of Alec's way back into the game (possibly mixed with some kind of redemption arc for Alec?), which means that he'd need to stick around a little longer. I definitely feel like we're about to enter the Connor plotline zone, which means he really should have a couple more episodes in him at least.

6: Ally

I still don't really know what to do with Ally. I continue to put her third from the bottom, just because there's less reason to actively put her higher in my mind, but there isn't really anything that pushes her towards the very bottom either.

I am excited to see what Ally's up to this episode, because if the challenge does have to do with social media, I'm expecting it to be something along the lines of "whoever gets the most likes wins the challenge." Based on her obsession with whether or not the viewers like her, that certainly seems like it'll do something.

I also have this crack theory I only half believe that Ally could join up with Riya and Alec if she sees that, like, the villains are more popular on social media or something because they're taking the game more seriously (which I'm pretty sure was what she got criticized for not doing last time). That would help capitalize on Riya setting that up earlier while also giving Alec and Riya a way to not necessarily get straight swept. If that's the case, I'd bet on a Riya immunity win, which further highlights the popularity of the villain character she portrays.

I don't super believe that theory, though, so who knows what Ally's doing! I just want to record it on the off chance that it's how the story actually goes.

7: Aiden

In my mind, Aiden and Riya are both in danger as people who made the finals in their original season. I feel like either of them being a losing finalist again wouldn't have much spice to it, and I don't really expect either of them to win. Additionally, Aiden and Jake seem to have fully made up at this point, their collective immunity win last week serving as a good symbol of that, so I could see Aiden getting cut.

My vision for the next couple episodes is that we're transitioning from the midgame to the endgame. As a result, the people who will be in our top 5 or 6 or so and have plot significance as the finalists are being picked will be getting new plotlines, and people whose plotlines are already more or less resolved will be at risk of getting eliminated, just kinda because. Aiden definitely feels like he could be cut in that group to me.

The big thing with Aiden is just that I'm not sure exactly where the votes come from. I do think it could be nice to take out a hero, just so that it doesn't feel like Alec and Riya are both doomed, but it's also obviously possible that one of the two of them will go down and the other will have to play in isolation for a little while.

I think the most likely way for an Aiden boot to happen is either a clutch immunity totem from, say, Riya, who would probably want to eliminate Aiden or Connor if she has her full shot, or if Ally does flip to join Alec and Riya. I think Ally would probably rather target Jake, but whatever.

8: Riya

I am by no means confident in a Riya boot, but when I assess the cast, it makes the most sense to me by far.

I think both Alec and Connor are going to make late game (if I had to lock it in right now, I'd say the final 5 are going to be Alec, Connor, Jake, Ally and either Gabby or Grett, meaning that one of Gabby/Grett, Aiden and Riya will collectively make up our next 3 boots). However, leaving Alec, Connor and Riya around is just... a large percentage of people to remain in that group. Similar to how Tom got eliminated when it was about time to cut one of the Aiden/Tom/Jake trio, I think Riya is the most expendable of the Alec/Connor/Riya trio.

She could easily get a lot of votes if we are in a weird in-between period of alliances, just because she is pretty problematic and a lot of people would be willing to vote her out. It's true that Grett might still be somewhat aligned with her, since Riya defended Grett from Yul, but I don't think that's something she can bank on, at least.

I also think it would be interesting to see how Alec and Connor move forward alone, as two people that Riya rejected romantically in favor of the game and her camera appearances. Assuming Riya refuses to budge on that for the rest of the season, which I am, I don't think she has much to say to Connor, and after talking to Alec this episode, I can believe she wouldn't have much room to grow in her relationship with Alec with the cameras on, either.

I definitely think Riya could win immunity here; I honestly think that timeline I discussed with Ally is probably her best bet. Though, barring anything weird, I still think she's the most likely so far.

[lorei-writes]

Trials and Tribulations of an Unconsenting Time-Traveller

Part 19: [To throw] beans against the wall

OC x Mitsuhide Interactive Previous Parts: Masterlist Ending: Good OR Bad

Oh, my, my. The first 5-ish chapters really could use some editing. Err... Maybe even re-writing. And some parts of later chapters. It's all a bit of a train wreck situation overall.

Maybe I shall once we've finished? Who knows, who knows. This story has started long ago, after all. It's all only natural.

Content Warnings: none

Maria sat back on her heels, Mitsuhide watching her carefully from the end of the corridor. Her brows furrowed, what she assumed to be a sort of uncertain worry flickering over his face before he reigned the emotion in. He walked up to her slowly. “I must ask you to follow me, little mouse.”

Guide:

Each chapter you will be presented with a choice(s) which will influence the story - a question(s) at the very bottom of the post. Two answers to it are mine, the third one - is completely up to you. You can add your vote by putting one of the options in the reblog / comment below the chapter.

Before I get to writing the next part, I will count up all the votes. The option the story will follow will be either the one with the greatest number of votes, or the one suggested completely by you (depending on which is more inspiring). If no votes appear, I will simply go by my own choice. There is no set time limit of voting - as long as the next part hasn’t been released, assume it’s still okay to vote.

Characters in this story are assumed to be speaking few different languages. The following is assumed: normal dialogue notation = Japanese; dialogue written in italics = English. Any phrases not written in English will be put in the dictionary at the bottom of the work.

[Rzucać] grochem o ścianę = [To throw] beans against the wall

Back and forth, forth and back, there was little more to the motion, the grime seemingly refusing to leave the creaks between the boards whenever Maria put less than all of her force into her arms. Despite that, there was certain solace to be found in the mindlessness of the activity, the pain in her knees and lower back allowing for her to forget of the events of the morning, even if just for a little while. Another time-traveller? She reigned in her thoughts before they broke into a rush. No. She didn’t need that. A strand of hair escaping from its place in the braid (surely, she would have done a better job, had her hands not trembled so much when she readied herself to do the chores), she hurriedly pushed it back behind her ear, the momentary distraction drawing her attention towards the figure standing nearby. Maria sat back on her heels, Mitsuhide watching her carefully from the end of the corridor. Her brows furrowed, what she assumed to be a sort of uncertain worry flickering over his face before he reigned the emotion in. He walked up to her slowly.

“I must ask you to follow me, little mouse.”

“Has something happened?” she asked, shaking the brush held in her hands.

“It is urgent,” he stated, and simply passed by her, reluctant to offer any further explanations. Dumbfounded, Maria shot up, nearly tripping over the basin of water she used to clean the floor with.

“You’d be smart to stay quiet,” he added, thus prompting her to jog after him.

Regardless of the opinion people held of Mitsuhide, Maria viewed him as a rather kind, although secretive person. Surely, he was not nice, and he enjoyed tricking her, and he was always plotting something… Yet still, she could not convince herself there were any ill intentions at the bottom of this all. That being said, she did not understand the situation in the slightest, the both of them soon leaving the Azuchi castle behind.

“Where are we going?” she asked. They walked at a faster than comfortable pace, but Mitsuhide did not slow down. He hadn’t spared her even a glance, instead leading her through the narrower of the streets, the entire layout of the city getting tangled inside of her head… All for them to eventually arrive at his manor. Maria frowned, but he quieted her before she even opened her mouth, the last digit of his finger guarding his lips as he let out a quiet ‘shh’.

The entirety of his manor was dark, not a soul having stayed behind to tend to the estate. Completely lost on the ‘why’ of things, Maria resigned to follow him, her trust in Mitsuhide – oddly enough – refusing to falter. The corridors seemed much too long, and she was nearly certain he had played with her again, for the room he wished for them to stop at was not more, not less, but his study. Maria frowned (again), but when he pointed at the table, she sat by it just regardless. Mitsuhide lit up a candle and set it in front of her.

“Can you tell me now?” she grumbled.

“My, my. Are you not an impatient little mouse… Or perhaps I have lost your full trust?” he wondered aloud, his back turned towards her as he searched for something within a sizeable wardrobe.

“No. But I want to understand.”

Mitsuhide froze for a moment. He seemed to consider something before facing her again, the bag she arrived with in the past clutched in his hands.

“Explain it,” he demanded while seating himself opposite of her. He turned the bag upside-down, her belongings falling onto the table – her phone (with its completely drained battery), an MP3 player, a pair of earbuds, her wallet, passport, a guidebook, a pair of sunglasses, chapstick, tissues, a map, some hard candy, a bottle of hand-sanitizer, and several other items all rolling around. Maria felt her throat drying up, her eyes growing wide.

“You won’t believe me,” she stuttered. Her head hung low, and just as she always did whenever stressed, she clawed into her own lap, thoughts swirling inside of her head having her heart pound.

“Do try.”

“I… I am not from now,” she hesitated. Her thighs hurt, but she didn’t mind. It provided a pleasant distraction from the anxiety she felt at the moment. Honestly, it was similar to having to take an oral exam on a subject she was not too knowledgeable about, but a hundred, no, thousand times worse. “But from… Tomorrow… But a hundreds… Thousands… Tens of thousands more.”

“Future?” Mitsuhide offered, his eyes scrutinising her. However, he didn’t seem to wish to rush her.

“Future.” Maria nodded slowly. “I… I was on a trip. There was a storm. I don’t know why, but then I woke up, and the building was on fire. Then I thought you were actors… But you aren’t. And this is the past,” she mumbled, her voice growing quieter with each word. She couldn’t explain it any better, nor did she believe for the reality to be real up until fairly recently. She couldn’t expect for him to accept it… Yet he did not seem to argue against her. Instead, Mitsuhide reached for her earbuds, his gaze sliding alongside the wire before he coiled it around his finger.

“What are those for?”

“You use them to listen to music.”

“How?”

Maria frowned. Her phone was dead, so clearly, it was no use. However… The same couldn’t be said about the MP3 player. It was a beast of a device, and the battery worked on months for end when it was not in use, so perhaps… She pressed the “Menu” button. The screen lit up.

“Give it to me,” she asked, and he obliged. Maria plugged the earbuds in, and handed one back to him. She put hers into her ear, Mitsuhide looking at her questioningly.

“Do it…?” she squeaked… And although reluctantly, he did follow her instructions.

Now, the real struggle arose. What song should she pick? In the end, it shouldn’t matter much, yet… Maria swallowed her indecisiveness and pressed play, the track starting just as intended.

His eyes widened. At first, Mitsuhide did not register the fact that the singer’s voice came from the device in his ear, and so, he threw a series of fast glances all around, the earbud falling out in the process. Only then did he realise it was the source of the voice, the place the odd instruments played at. Without uttering a word, he put it back in. Not only did the words sung in it made no sense to him, he could not understand what material was it all made from, how could it fit so many things, how –

Maria changed the track, another artist beginning their performance. And another one. Another… Mitsuhide reached over the table and placed his hand on top of hers. Maria pressed pause.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“No. How does this work? How does it fit…?”

“It doesn’t. In the future… We tamed lightning? We have many little machines. We save sound like this. Books are cheap. We… We have boats that don’t need wind. Machines that translate languages. Machines that fly.”

“That fly?” he echoed after her.

“That fly.”

“How far?”

“Far.”

“How far?” he pressed further.

“From Europe to here.”

Mitsuhide sat quietly. It appeared that his curiosity had been satiated… Although perhaps that was not it. Perhaps it was only that things finally had connected in his head, that they had given the past few months some semblance of sense.

“Your times… They are peaceful, aren’t they?” he spoke after a long pause.

“Often. There are wars. And huge diseases.”

“Huge diseases?”

“The… The entire world diseases.”

Mitsuhide sat quietly again. Her heart pounded against her chest, each elapsed second having her wish she could decipher his expression.

“Why ask now?” she blurted out.

“The ninja you have caught this morning. He has told me a very similar tale. It was hard to believe it, although since you have confirmed it… And since I cannot dispute the fact we do have not musicians in,” he paused and half-heartedly pointed at the MP3 player, “tiny boxes, I suppose.” Mitsuhide raised his gaze from the object up to her face. “Maria, although you are considered to be loyal to lord Nobunaga, some of his vassals remain suspicious of you. You must understand that today’s incident did not play in your favour.”

“But I –”

“Do not apply reason where it does not belong,” he interrupted. “I have suspected you may not be fully aware of your circumstances. Little mouse, your involvement with me, our little play, your eagerness to work as a maid, and now the enemy spy paying you a visit. In this world, there are people who ascend through trampling over others.”

“But I’m nobody,” Maria noted.

“Yet I am not.”

Maria tilted her head to the side, confused by the implications of his words. How come there was any connection to be made there? If anything, in the past months, she had spent more time being tutored by Ieyasu and Mitsunari, not to mentioned the self-defence lessons Masamune watched over. Mitsuhide clicked his tongue.

“Allow me to explain,” he sighed dejectedly. Somehow he still found himself stunned by her obliviousness, the sharpness she exhibited when adapting to the situation standing in direct contradiction to her understanding of humans as a whole… Although perhaps, that was Maria. A contradiction. “As of now, there are two fractions working behind the scenes. The first one spun the tale as follows: ‘Lord Akechi has been in close contact with the foreigner ever since her arrival. He has not only vouched on her behalf, but tutored her, and requested for her to join him on the mission. He has later presented her as his lover, and used her. But how has she learnt Japanese so fast? And how come an ordinary woman had enough grit and stealth to be a messenger? She has protected Lord Date, and has clearly earned his favour. She was injured, yet she does not seem shaken. She must have been in service of Lord Akechi all along. And now, she has contacted an enemy spy. They all must be traitors.’ ” Mitsuhide cleared his throat. “The second story is a less colourful one. It simply states: ‘Lord Akechi holds the foreign girl in a dear place in his heart. Were we to threaten her, he would comply with our demands’.”

Maria took the information in slowly, her face not revealing any of the emotion that passed through her. She nodded several times, the tiredness accumulated over the past few weeks finally catching up to her. She watched Mitsuhide, and he watched her in turn, amber eyes holding back some secrets she was not certain she was allowed to even ask about.

“Why are you telling me this all?” she probed.

“The ninja told me you can go back to your original time. I plan to escort you both to Kyoto.”

Her eyes burned – but not from tears, or anger, or sadness, or fear. They burned through him, the intensity of her stare having Mitsuhide shiver.

“I don’t want to,” she stated firmly.

“I am not asking whether you’d like to go, little one. I am telling you to,” Mitsuhide spoke in a voice barely louder than a whisper. He reached over the table, long fingers brushing against the strand of hair that has escaped from her braid. He guided it back behind her ear, the light of the candle cracking over the fresh uneven scar. His gaze faltered. It was his near-sightedness that led to her being hurt in the first place. He never wished to –

Mitsuhide tensed. Maria took his hand in hers, and held it to her scarred cheek, never once dropping his gaze.

“I want to stay. I like this life. I am better at speaking now, and I can read more. I am useful.”

“You may get hurt again.”

“I am fine with that.”

Mitsuhide retracted his hand.

“I took you along, so you wouldn’t be a nuisance among the soldiers.” It was only a half-truth. But it could keep her safe. “You made yourself a nuisance to me instead. I had to find you a task, even if only to keep you occupied. And now you refute the reality of things?”

“Exactly. I can always wash the floors.”

Mitsuhide did not let his composure slip. His eyes narrowed as he set them on breaking through her stubbornness, hot guilt simmering just below his ribs. He took note of the dark circles below her eyes. It wouldn’t take long. It couldn’t take long. Not when she was in this state.

“And if I made you wish you could return to your home?” He sat closer to her and held her chin up.

“You won’t.”

“How can you be certain?”

“You’re a kind man.”

Mitsuhide pushed her to the floor. His body hoovered above hers, but Maria didn’t protest. He pulled her collar open, but she didn’t stop him. He unravelled her obi. He pushed his knee between her legs. He wished, no, begged for her to resist him, to show him any sign of fear, so that he could cut this act short. However, she only smiled at him. It even reached those tired eyes of hers as she held her hands up to cup his face. Mitsuhide froze. Stubborn. Offensively stubborn.

“When we slept in one bed, you moved away in the morning not to poke me,” she giggled. Offensively bold as well. He felt his ears heat up – he’d be damned if they were not red. “Let me tell you my story. ‘I arrived in an unfamiliar place. I was taught the language. I was taught medicine. I was taken to a mission, but I was a fool all along. Lord Akechi tried to protect me. He took care of me, made up a task so that I wouldn’t mess up his plans. He wanted to keep me in the dark, so that I wouldn’t slip. But I have made mistakes. I am weak, so…’” she hesitated. “So…”

What should Maria say?

a. Use me as your pawn. b. I know I am a burden. c. Something else. (What?)

Dictionary

Rzucać grochem o ścianę – To throw beans against the wall; idiom -- to do something without it achieving any results; usually to try to explain something without it being understood by the listener

Tag list for the series: @bestbryn @xarexraven

[red-signal]

I PRESENT TO YOU *DRUMROLL*: SUPER DANGANRONPA TWO: GOODBYE DESPAIR!

The protagonist is Hajime Hinata, he does the classic danganronpa protag move, passes out and wakes up in the building, but PLOT TWIST THEYRE ON A FUCKING ISLAND INSTEAD. THE BUILDIJG IS ON AN ISLAND. Instead of monokuma greeting them, it's Usami [later renamed monomi] [picture below]

He meets the other students, and they get called down to the beach area, and FUCK YOU MONOKUMA. Usami gets her ass beaten by teddybitch and she's now monomi. Rules get explained blah blah. And usami gets SHOT. BY A GUN. MULTIPLE TIMES. and WOOOO USAMI ISNT DEAD!!! but she erased all their memories :(. Various things happen, Togami throws a party and gets killed, shocker. He got stabbed multiple times under a table

The blackended cut out the power and got dead by a trap. It was teruteru, he gets cooked alive. NOT EVEN JOKING WATCH THE EXECUTION ON YOUTUBE ITS FUCKIN VRAZY

And we find out, the organization responsible for the end of the world was World Ender [who fucking named it that]

And nekumaru and kazuichi are fucking CONVINCED nagito is the traitor, but monokuma reveals another motive so they just forget about that [the "motive" is a game. Somehow that works bc ->]. Next day, Mahiru is gone. Kazuichi somehow knows they were going to the beach so she's probably just there right? NO MOTHERFUCKER SHES DEAD AS HELL.

Long story short, fuyuhiko almost did it, but peko killed her for him, yk to save him. And FUCK. PEKO ACCIDENTALLY SLASHED HIS EYE MID-EXECUTION. but he's not dead

And they throw another party, where ibuki performs "I Squeezed Out The Baby, But I Have No Idea Who The Father Is" [good song, it's on spotify listen 2 it]

And akane almost fucking dies, but nekumaru jumps in and almost dies for her, but he's a robot now bc he can't die bc he didn't kill anyone

And alone, ibuki, and nagito get the Despaur Disease, symptoms are different based on everyone. Nagito gets the Liar Disease, Akane has the Coward Disease, ibuki has the Gullible disease.

And WOOOAAH hiyoko and ibuki are fucking DEAD. mikan did it, she had despair disease. Her symptoms were remembering things, oof childhood trauma.

But TRAITOR IS BACK!! WHO IS IT WHO KNOWS

They go to an amusement park [and it's honestly kinda fun, this game puts them through fun things sometimes :)] and SHIT MONOKUMA WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE OIKE THIS. they got sealed in a fun house and can only get out if somebody murders. And there is NO food they ahve to kill to get out to eat

AND BY COD. ROBOT NEKUMARU IS FUCKING DEAD. the blackended used his HAMPTERS to activate nekumarus sleep mode, and tied him up on a wall thing and set a timer so he'd fall down and fucking die

The blackended was gundham tanaka [NO MY BOY /REF] [context for the fic. Btw] and he'd never admit it but it was a self sacrifice for everybody else there. He dies and OHMYCOD THIS SHIT. I AM CRYING. THE HAMSTERS. THE HAMSTERS ARE FINE THEYRE GOOD BUT HOLY SHIT. ITS JUST I AM CRYING. WATCH EXECUTION ON YOUTUBE OR SOEMTHIGN HDHGHWFGHHHH

and nagito planted BOMBS everywhere, and they need to diffuse them

But NO FUCK YOU NAGITO. they're actually fireworks. AND HOLY SHIT NAGIYO MADE THIS WHOLE SET UP TO KILL HIMSELF AND IT WORKED. ITS INSANE WATCH AN EXPLANATION I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN IT. AND CHIAKI GETS VOTED FOR AS THE TRAITOR, AND ITS RIGHT. MONOMI DIES WITH HER IN THE EXECUTION.

And MAJOR FUCKING PLOT TWIST. everybody's back? Reality is crumbling, ?? And nagito is talking to someone, and he REPLACED HIS OWN HAND EITH JUNKOS. HE IS FUCKING SICK /NEG

Ultimate despair/despair remanents are explained, a group of people who spread despair everywhere, and its basically a cult. She manipulated them so bad that they alm committed mass suicide on a whim because she told them too.

AND ALTER EGO [AI BUTTERCUP] IS BACK!!! THEY INFORM EEVRYBODY THAT A VIRUS HAS ENTERED THE GAME, BECAUSE THIS IS ALL A SIMULATION!

And MAKOTO [MC] IS BACK, HE TELLS HAJIME THAT HELP IS THERE, SOMEWHERE. THEYRE IN A TRAIL, AND THEY NEED MORE THAN HALF OF THE CAST BACK TO GET OUT. AND A SHIT TON OF STUFF IS REVEALED, THEY ALL LOOK LIKE THEIR 17 YEAR OLD SELVES, BUT EVERYBODY THAT DIED IS PROBBALY DEAD IRL TOO. MAKOTO JUMPS IN AND SAYS THEY NEED TO ALL ACCEPT THEIR SITUATION AND EVERYTHING. THERES A HOPE RESTORATION PROGRAM, THAT CONSISTS OF PAST REMANANTS OF DESPAIR. THE ROD [ACRONYM FOR REMANTS OF DESPAIR] WERE SO OBSESSRF EITH HER THAT THEY SACRIFICED THEIR FAMILIES FOR HER, IMPLANTED PARTS OF HER BODY INTO THEMSELVES WHEN SHE DIED, ETC DTUFF LIKE THAT. BUT NO JUNKOS STILL ALIVE, JUST AN AI NOW. AND JUNKOS PLANNING TO INSERY HER CONCIOUSNESS INTO EVERYBODY, AND THEY NEED EIGHT PEOPLE TO BE ABLE TO STOP HER. AND THEN AI LAVENDER AND AI TALL RICH JERK SPAWN, AND HAJIME HAS A DESPAIR VERSION [EMO]. HAJIME PULLS A FULL PROTAG OP MOMENT AND THEY ALL LEAVE THE SIMULATION AND WOOOOO HAPPY ENDING.

OKAY SO THIS PROBABLY WAS A REALLY BAD EXPLANATION, GO WATCH A RECAP IF YHIS MADE NO FUCKING SENSE. ILL SEND A SEPRATE ASK WITH THE CHARCTERS THINGY

OMC I LOVED THAT

I WILL ADMIT I UNDERSTOOD LIKE ZERO OF IT BUT STILL!!

JUNKO IS THAT ONE LESBIAN RIGHT?? NEVER KNEW ANYONE ELSE'S REAL NAME EXCEPT FOR TEDDYBITCH BEING MONOKUMA BUT LIKE AAAA

IS THIS BEFORE OR AFTER THE ANIME I SAW TOOK PLACE

BUT LIKE OH MY COD I LOVE THAT SM ITS LIKE ALMOST HALF AS GREAT AS YOU ARE!!!!!

TYSM FOR TAKING THE TIME TO TELL ME ALL THAT

[swldx]

BBC 0408 19 Oct 2024

12095Khz 0359 19 OCT 2024 - BBC (UNITED KINGDOM) in ENGLISH from TALATA VOLONONDRY. SINPO = 55445. English, dead carrier s/on @0359z then ID, pips, and newsroom preview. @0401z World News anchored by Chris Berrow. § An Israeli air strike has killed at least 33 people including 21 women at a refugee camp in northern Gaza, the strip's Hamas-run authorities say. There was no immediate comment on the reported attack at Jabalia from Israel, whose forces have been besieging the densely-populated camp for weeks. The killing of Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar this week raised hopes in some quarters of an end to the war but the group's deputy leader said Hamas would only be strengthened. The pathologist in Israel who conducted his autopsy told US media he had been shot in the head. Dr Chen Kugel also found injuries to his right forearm from "missile fire", a damaged left leg from "fallen masonry" and shrapnel injuries. § Kamala Harris and Donald Trump have exchanged personal insults while campaigning in Michigan for the upcoming US election. The Democratic candidate mocked her Republican rival for avoiding debates and cancelling interviews. § Cuba is experiencing a nationwide blackout after its main energy plant failed, knocking out power to its 10 million people. Its power grid collapsed at around 11:00 (15:00 GMT) on Friday, the energy ministry announced on social media. Grid officials said they did not know how long it would take to restore power. § The UN Security Council has voted unanimously to expand its arms embargo in Haiti because of grave concerns over extremely high levels of gang violence. The embargo will extend to all types of arms and ammunition in the Caribbean country, which faces multiple challenges. § Colombian land dedicated to the cultivation of coca leaves, a raw ingredient for cocaine, jumped 10% last year to reach the largest area in over two decades, a report by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) found on Friday. § Sydney beaches that were closed earlier this week when thousands of black balls washed ashore are set to reopen this weekend, with NSW Maritime deeming it safe to do so. On Tuesday, hundreds of tar balls, which occur when oil combines debris, water and other pollutants, washed along Sydney's coastline, first appearing at Coogee Beach. These tar balls have since been confirmed as a mixture of chemicals consistent with those found in cleaning and cosmetic products as well as fuel oil. § Liam Payne's father arrived in Buenos Aires on Friday, just two days after the former One Direction star plunged to his death from a hotel balcony. Geoff Payne identified his son's body at the morgue, as well as visited the prosecutor's office to arrange plans to return the pop star's remains to England, authorities said. @0406z "The Newsroom" begins. Backyard gutter antenna w/MFJ-1020C active antenna (used as a preamplifier/preselector), JRC NRD-535D, 250kW, beamAz 315°, bearing 63°. Received at Plymouth, United States, 15359KM from transmitter at Talata Volonondry. Local time: 2259.

[rawripopsarentlollipops]

Ummm… no.

On every single level, no. My page is not the place for you.

Which means it’s time to do some housekeeping.

This page:

•supports lgbt rights, women’s rights, prisoner’s rights, immigrants’ rights, human rights, animal rights, minority rights (including black rights, Hispanic rights, South Pacific rights, indigenous rights, and the rights of the systematically oppressed), disability rights, and any of the like.

•believes every person should be able to decide what they do with their body (including abortion, premarital sex, and gender affirming care if they so choose)

•believes every person should be allowed access to free drinking water (FUCK YOU NESTLE), free sanitation products, free menstrual products, free hygiene products, and free food if those are their needs. We all eat, drink, sneeze, shit, piss, and sweat, and about half of all humans bleed monthly too. If it’s required to live and it affects 50% or more of the population for upwards of a few months, it should not cost anything. A well functioning society would have more prestigious or luxurious versions available for sale, but there would be something to meet the basic needs of everyone.

Absolute Capitalism has been illegal since the Great Depression for a reason and this is one of the necessary steps for a stable economy and a lower wage gap between the highest paid workers in the nation ($1.25 an HOUR for some people. Not even enough to buy a single item at the dollar tree anymore, as compared to congress’s $100k+ per year salary when several members haven’t even shown up to most of the votes)

•believe the survivors of trauma and listens when they ask for help in making a change. Palestine has been asking for help for decades, and especially since October of 2023. Many women came forward about Trump sexually assaulting people and his response in 2016 was “grab them by the pussy,” which lead to a rise in sexual assaults around the nation. I don’t support Biden either because, as I mentioned before, Palestine has been begging for help for almost a year now and he allowed for the manufacturing of white phosphorus for Israel to use against Palestinians.

•believes that children should have the right to an unbiased education that teaches each subject through a variety of perspectives and encourages critical thinking. And the right to an environment where they will not be shot at

•believes that there should be mandatory psychological evaluation testing with at least one character witness consultation before a person should be allowed to own their first gun. I think this evaluation should take into account the person’s past decade of experiences with authority (middle school and high school record if necessary), and that there should be a national database containing the dna information of every gun known owner in the United States. This would extend the process for getting a license by several weeks but think about how many rapists, domestic abusers, drunks, thieves, and trespassers could be caught instantly, and how many public school, college campus, and workplace shootings will be avoided by forcing would-be criminals to go through a multi step, long process. It won’t solve everything but it sure would make a big dent in the issue

•believes that billionaires are the most evil people in the world. Literally 1 billion dollars can end homelessness entirely in the USA, and most billionaires have so much money that even if they were to give up $1 billion, they could still afford to buy multiple homes, eat out at expensive restaurants with their entire extended family for every meal of their lives, put aside enough money to last their family 10 generations, and still have extra. I think it’s unethical to be one of less than a thousand people who could literally save the lives of hundreds of thousands, and actively choose not to every second that they’re enjoying their wealth. A million seconds is 11 days, a billion seconds is 31 years and 8 months.

•believes that there should be paid maternity leave, 4 weeks minimum as the standard while the nation adjusts but 8 weeks recommended, to encourage birth rate increases instead of forced pregnancy and stillborn births that result in a higher maternal mortality rate. Prenatal and postnatal care should be significantly lower in cost, same with pretty much all birth and pregnancy related health care. It costs $20k just to give birth in a hospital, then about $5k in baby proofing the car and the baby’s room, and like $200 a week on top of that, every week, until the prices increase just to get diapers, wipes, food, clothes, cleaning supplies; etc. it’s damn expensive and overturning roe v wade in response to declining birth rate just means that these burdens are going to be forced on children who probably won’t even live long enough for the fetus to make it to term because it is medically dangerous to give birth before your body is ready for it. And before you say “well they just should do it,” it’s usually not a fucking choice that a child is making on their own. They were forced or manipulated, because they were a child. You are a fucking creep that I don’t trust around children if you are actively saying that a child should’ve acted differently if they didn’t want to be pregnant.

I have more beliefs and more stances, but it’s getting rather late, so I will leave it at this. Anyone reading this, do not interact with me if you are here to be angry or hateful, block me if you have to. If it gets to me, I won’t hesitate to block.

I’m also not a political blog. I’m just not active on here and I reblog every Palestine/ Gaza post that I see because this is still an active issue where my two seconds of attention make a small difference for people who need it.

I write porn.

And not the kind that’s about real people— all of the characters in my works are fictional.

[oc-tournaments]

ROUND TWO - MATCH 9

DANZYMYR MAENELD vs FRANK WATERS

DANZYMYR: @mitsubinyuri

FRANK: @the-real-uranus

VOTE BASED ON THE INFORMATION BELOW CUT!!

Propaganda Content Warnings: Parental death for DANZYMYR, homophobia for FRANK.

DANZYMYR MAENELD:

PROPAGANDA: Danzymyr is a male Drow so already not off to a great start. His mother was like... standard evil drow matriarch. Because he was of high status he was treated a little better than other Drow males but still pretty damn terribly. His house, House Maeneld, was on the way out in terms of power and influence and due to the constant jockeying for status in Drow society his mom was intent to use him as a tool to further the house, as with all of his other siblings.

He went to school in Menzoberranzan to be a warrior, and while he was there, he met another student who he ended up becoming close with. This other student was a member of a much more influential house, and long story short his mother found out and wanted to use his closeness to this guy to infiltrate the house and do a whole lot of murder. He was kind of like okay! Sure!

But he lost his nerve right before reaching the place. He escaped to the surface instead, where shit was awful for him. The Drow's sunlight sensitivity made it so that he was in constant pain and most people didn't look too favorably upon him. Eventually, he took up a career as a monster hunter, gaining more and more begrudging respect until he eventually became an adventurer, and later, hero. All the while he's still traumatized from how he was raised and is deathly terrified of spiders.

Eventually he decides he needs to go back to confront his past, so he does. He returns to the house where he was raised and finds out that the guy he was "very good friends" with died anyway (due to his mother's intervention). He ends up killing his mother and actively enjoys it and that causes a big sense of shame.

Then he's sent to a magic prison where they get their minds probed by an aasimar for abstract visions of their psyche given in the form of song where he'll be judged innocent or guilty. He falls in love with a druid who has a crazy savior complex and is enforcing terrible restrictions on the other prisoners, and he's like "wait he's not that bad!" They make each other worse lol.

THEME SONG:

FRANK WATERS:

PROPAGANDA:

- Falls in love with another man, but his crush's family is very unaccepting so they have to go out in secret. Also, it's the 1900s. Technically Frank's parents aren't OPENLY supportive, but his mum tries to subtly let him know it's okay.

- Henry, his crush, hates him when they first meet and ostracizes him for being of a lower class, though they soon work out their differences.

- They share many heartfelt moments, including a single kiss in Henry's garden.

- Frank is told by Henry that somebody in Henry's family saw their first kiss, and Drank needs to gtfo before something bad happens.

- Frank runs away, after writing a love letter to Henry.

- Frank sees Henry's father following him, but it's too late by then. Frank gets shot. Literally the night after their first kiss.

So basically: Henry hates Frank, then they actually fall in love, then they share their first kiss, but Henry's father kills Frank right after.

THEME SONG:

[faelynnupward]

I was 15 years old and in 10th grade bio when the attack happened. A lot of the guys my age were pretty gross about the whole thing but I think that was just angsty teen edgelord shit.

I was an honor student and pretty into history and geopolitical studies so I had a good idea what was about to happen. It sucks that over two thousand people who were just trying to work died.

We are Canadians but my older brother had joined the Army after graduating that summer. He ended up in Iraq for 13 months.

I’m aggressively against the US military (and always was). The spending alone would be enough to despise it but the atrocities carried out in the name of “freedom” or “peace” or “national security” make 9/11 look like a car accident. The US killed orders of magnitudes more civilians during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. As a nation the US takes zero responsibility for those deaths.

The flag wavers thumping their chests over terrorists in 2001 are the same jackasses who wouldn’t stay home, wear a mask or get vaccinated during Covid while a 9/11 attack worth of their fellow citizens died daily. Nevermind the six or seven times as many who didn’t die but suffered or still suffer from long Covid.

When it happened, I felt terrible about the dead but the reaction was grossly disproportionate. Every year since it almost becomes comical how Americans will watch police officers kill half as many people as died in the attack or let 10 times as many people be shot and killed without action while we are supposed to “never forget.” That is without even mentioning the hundreds of thousands of foreign deaths caused by US interventions.

This years 9/11 is also the 50th anniversary of the military coup in Chile. The US policy during the Cold War was to oppose socialists regardless of the circumstances of their elevation. They actively blocked free trade and financing for the Allende government ( which was democratically elected in 1970 despite the CIA spending nearly $2mil supporting right-wing media). When Pinochet took power, they helped as much as they possibly could. It took Congress voting to eliminate all support for the Pinochet regime to stop the CIA from aiding it.

Over 3.2k people were “disappeared” and over 30k people were imprisoned and tortured in Chile under Pinochet. How about we “never forget” them?

I don’t think innocent Americans deserve to die but as a nation, this country deserves far worse than the 9/11 attack.

As someone around for 9-11 and the "NEVER FORGET NUMBER #1 GREATEST TRAGEDY EVER IN HISTURY" response to it I am in thrilled and invigorated by the fact that younger people just make amogus memes and TikTok nonsense about it. A huge chunk of America cared more about it than any entire genocide and thought you would cry learning about it. They hoped it'd make every generation patriotically angry forever and ever and want to join the military. Instead you Photoshop the towers into squidwards house and shit. Never stop lol

[mithliya]

I'm a Brit and watching from the sidelines in horror at the US prospect of picking between two genocide maintainers, anti migration, racist, rich men both with a past of violence to women (structurally and interpersonally) who operationally both function to maintain and expand American imperial interests.

Then I look at my own country and we have two parties. One- creates poverty from neoliberal and right economic policies. They massage a wealth divide. They notoriously glass cliff woman and racial minority politicians, supports genocide and actively wishes to continue falsifying its imperial legacy and shirks their geopolitical role in creating immigration issues and pursuing inflammatory rhetoric that centralises hegemonic interests.

My other choice is another party who is saying this is all bad, let's get the tories out! Then use fluffy language to try to differentiate the way they aim to maintain the structures and factors that allow for all the strife we face but with no critical analysis of how we ended up in the situation. They want the same socioeconomic systems, want to also kick you in the face but with a softer boot.

I also have to play tactical voting so I'd vote green party as they align most to my economic and environmental interests and best choice for refugees, but on social issues like gender, royals, military they're still not far enough left. But England's crappy overton window this is a minority position. If I was still in my uni consistency I'd be voting green (interesting how they call it when students are home 🙃) but last election was a shit show minority seat and we've had a wanker tory MP who I badly want to vote out. This guy is bottom of the barrel, his alternate labour candidate is very much hearts and minds liberal wash but he is the only other opponent who can unseat him.

But I fucking hate Sir Keir Starmer, affectionately named Keith Starmer, Kiddy Starver, who loves racist criminal systems, won't take a firm stand on safe refugee routes and people are drowning, loves capitalism and cap doffing. I also despise the labour party and the whole British political system and its culture wars.

We all love scoffing at America but here we have the same issues, they just have a different polish.

Sorry for the blog, love your content! You make me a better feminist

the UK does operate similarly in the sense that the two parties that are typically in power are either labour or tories. but honestly i don’t think it’s AS bad in the sense that at least tories & labour do have some visible differences. meanwhile the differences between democrats & republicans at this point seem to mainly be how they present themselves, bc in practice they’re pretty much aligned on most fronts.

personally i think the UK’s system is more hopeful bc in general i do feel like there is less corruption and more fairness in the system but also i havent seen labour in power for an extremely long time (when i googled it, it seems the last time there was a labour PM was early 2010…) and UKIP grew in power + the UK seriously shot themselves in the foot with brexit + tories have been effectively making the UK worse. so perhaps that’s just naïveté on my part. but at least from what i’ve seen, the same hopeless mindset americans have doesn’t seem to persist among the brits… then again maybe the brits are seeing their govt thru rose-coloured glasses as u have stated so,, maybe that’s why.

idk much about the stuff u mentioned on labour not being particularly good tho. i know they also put in policies that were bad for working class ppl, but idk much else beyond that. also i know they’re frequently accused of being antisemitic tho i’m unsure how true that is

[allylikethecat]

💋 💌⌛️

YES THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for sending me something off of the works in progress emoji ask game!! If anyone else wants to send something the list can be found HERE if anyone else wants to send some or reblog for themselves! As always, I love ask games, and I love fanfic, and I love our little Tumblr community and am so grateful that people are willing to engage with me. Thank you!!

💋 - snippet of a wip of your choice

You're getting a snippet from All the King's Horses (I know probably not the one people want lol) but I am SO EXCITED about it and I also just realized today is Wednesday not Thursday which means I have to wait even longer to share it so I am sad. George cleared his throat. “Matthew and I are going to head out,” he said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.  Gabi looked up sharply, “Matty’s coming?” She asked, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth and George flushed. Polly had no doubt filled her in on their Cold War. “Yeah,” said George, “we’re still good to meet you at Jalapeño’s?”  “Yep,” said Gabi, “just waiting on Polly to finish giving meds.” “Cool, I think Ross and Waughty will be there first, they said they would get a table,” George said, hooking his backpack over his shoulder. “We’ll see you soon?”  “Sounds good,” said Gabi, flashing George a thumbs up with a glint in her eye. Matthew was standing by the entrance to the barn when George returned, wearing a pair of wayfarer style sunglasses and a well worn Kentucky Horse Park baseball cap tugged down over his curls. George swallowed a pang of disappointment, even sweaty and squished from wearing a helmet all day, George liked Matthew’s curls.  “Ready?” George asked and Matthew nodded, following him to the parking lot and climbing into the passenger seat of George’s truck.  George looked away as he did so, not wanting to get caught checking out his ass, admiring the way his navy blue breeches pulled tight as he hoisted himself into George’s lifted vehicle, the hop jump he had to do to get in only highlighting how small he was. George quickly banished the thought of how that meant Matthew would fit perfectly, tucked against his side.

💌 - how many wips do you have?

Too many 💀 Officially in progress being actively update (at least in The 1975 fandom I'm pretending the other fandoms don't exist at the moment) I have five: All the King's Horses Make Way for Ducklings You Know Where the City Is It's Christmas (So This Is Gonna Be a Nightmare) On a Friday In terms of ones that exist and are actively being worked on but aren't ready to be posted / haven't been posted yet I a have five more: Tennessee Stella McCartney (the Nashville��️ fic) Now Is the Hour (The teen dad fictional!matty fic) Vampire AU (we're still working on a name) The End of SATVB Sick Fic One shot (name also TBD) That super secret fourth thing that I keep joking about So apparently all in all that's TEN WIPS and i did not realize it was that many and now I'm stressed... (Less work has gone into them - but I also have the infection verse fics where Baby Gatty gets together and Fictional!Matty is readjusting to the public eye after the chapter eight events of the A&E fic but I'm not emotionally ready to admit that I have 12 WIPs lol)

⏳️- wip you're planning on doing next

That is a very good question! I whatever fic gets updated on Tuesday will be determined by the poll that I still don't have the results for yet (it ends soon if you haven't voted yet!). Once the Christmas Fic is finished I would like to start posting another one of my in progress WIPs, I'm just not sure which one yet. I also want to FINALLY hopefully get the SATVB sick fic finished - I'm just worried people are going to be disappointed because I have taken so long to finish it and I'm worried it's been over hyped

Thank you SO MUCH for sending me this ask oh my gosh!! I'm so excited about my various projects (even if I'm a little stressed I hadn't realized there were so many lol) and I hope you continue to enjoy my posts in the meantime! I hope you have a great rest of your day and a great week!

❤️Ally

[project1939]

100+ Films of 1952

Film number 104: Washington Story 

Release date: July 1st, 1952 

Studio: MGM 

Genre: drama 

Director: Robert Pirosh 

Producer: Dore Schary 

Actors: Patricia Neal, Van Johnson, Louis Calhern 

Plot Summary: Alice is a “girl reporter” who comes to Washington D.C. looking for a story about political corruption. She begins following Rep. Gresham, a young politician from Massachusetts, covering his day-to-day activities. But is his idealistic image real? Is his vote on an upcoming bill being bought? 

My Rating (out of five stars): *** 

This is another “meh” film from MGM. It’s not especially good, but it’s not especially bad either. The main problem is that the poster claiming Alice will get the “surprise of her life” is a ridiculous oversell. There was some mystery about what characters were or were not corrupt, but it didn’t last long, and the stakes were disappointingly low. (Some spoilers)

The Good: 

Patricia Neal! Patricia Neal! A major reason I wanted to see this film was because she was in it. She’s got class and swagger in equal amounts, she’s beautiful in a unique way, and her voice is like mother’s milk to me. Her charisma carries the film. 

Van Johnson. I wasn’t sure if he’d be believable as a politician, but it worked for the most part. He had the air of a young, dashing, East Coast Representative- a bit like a more mild-mannered Kennedy.  He still seems like way too nice of a guy to be in Congress, though! 

Louis Calhern as Rep. Birch. He’s always delightful as a character actor, and he was a highlight here. He was the one character whose morality I actually questioned. 

The amazing access to the Capitol building. Some of the movie used sets, but a lot of it was shot in and around the actual building. It was especially cool to see the “subway” trolley thing that members of Congress used to get around at that time.  

The minutia of daily lives for Representatives was shown in a low-key realistic way. We see committee meetings, the floor of congress, Gresham practicing for a TV speech, talking to lobbyists and constituents in his office in the building, etc. 

“Ward Cleaver” as a House chaplain! It was a “blink and you’ll miss him” moment but fun anyway. I think it was an MGM movie earlier in the year where Barbara Billingsley (June Cleaver) had a role of similar length! 

A fun moment when Gresham meets a group of Boy Scouts and some are holding a sign that says, “We’ll vote for you in 1962!” 

The wrap around device of a Capitol building tour guide. 

The Bad: 

Van Johnson as a possible villain. Here’s a case where a lesser-known actor might have been better for the role. I only questioned for about 10 seconds if Johnson could be a “baddie” or not. Would MGM ever make Johnson a villain? Never! It’s not Johnson’s fault as an actor, it’s just that he was MGM’s golden boy, and I knew they’d never allow him to be corrupt. 

The lack of any real thrills or suspense. The big bill coming up for a vote in the film is about... ship building dispersal?? I mean... really? It’s not exactly something that grips an audience. 

It starts off seeming like a grittier version of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington but ends up much more sanitized than Capra. I adore Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, but it does have a dose of Capra sentimentality. However, it is actually a much more dark and cynical film than this one. In Mr. Smith, Washington D.C. is a place filled with corruption and smashed ideals. In Washington Story, all the politicians are good guys. It’s a lobbyist and a muckraking reporter who suck. This didn’t exactly feel realistic! Mr. Smith was a film that ripped your heart out- this movie was a mild diversion by comparison. 

The fact that a reporter writing a story about a Representative hooks up romantically with said Representative after only a couple of days! This was highly questionable, especially because the film made no issue of it, as if it was a perfectly normal acceptable thing. 

I don’t know if Johnson and Neal had much chemistry together. Their basic character traits didn’t quite jibe- Neal always comes across as bitingly intelligent, sophisticated, and worldly-wise. Johnson is the sweet boy next door “aw shucks” type.  

The style of the whole film was kind of flat. Nothing about the visuals or sound stood out at all for me. 

Some truly bad rear projection in a scene where Neal and another journalist ride the subway inside the Capitol. Apparently, the projected stuff in the background was from the real location, but it zipped past its stopping point twice!