#when there are people and countries in desperate need of resources

[uncle-fruity]

The unsettling thing about smart appliances is that the companies can control them. Or update the app so older "smart" appliances are no longer supported and will need to be upgraded to new, "smarter" appliances. Not to mention what happens when the internet is down. I mean, the fact that you have to have internet at all! It's hostile towards poor folks who might not want to spend money on something that's free at their local library, but who still need a place to keep their food cold. It's hostile towards anyone who doesn't want to buy a smartphone or download a billion apps. Are they going to pay me for the storage space they're forcing me to use on my device? Definitely not. Or, as we're already seeing with some printers: the "smart" application is to make it impossible to use a competitor's ink once you're low. So if you don't like their ink or if you find ink that's cheaper, well...fuck you! Fuck you, and pay them money to do it. Idk, I'm just saying that adding apps & shit to appliances that demonstratively *do not need them* should either have an alternative not-smart option or should be outright illegal.

I am not anti-technology, either. Like, I don't tend to keep up with the trends, and I super don't *care* about a lot of the technology that comes out (I don't find much of the new stuff to do anything of consequence aside from complicating problems we've already solved (and the stuff that IS of consequence gets so little attention)), but in general I think technology has a place in the world & makes things easier/more convenient in many ways. However, I feel that we are misusing precious fucking resources for the likes of corporate greed and individual comforts that were not asked for and are not needed. I think the people supplying the technology are fucking power-hungry goons who wouldn't hesitate to set their grandmas on fire if it would save them a buck or if her ashes turned to data by the end of it.

In short, it's not that new stuff is bad, it's just that new stuff isn't by default *better* than older models, and tbh we all need to complain as loudly as we can against these corporate chucklefucks. Make everyone involved in the process hate "smart" appliances as much as we do for how ferociously we voice our hatred and how much we complain & demand alternative options. Tbh, we probably need to do a big protest and shut down of a major company to show that the people Do Not Want these "innovations" and the companies had better fucking do something about it.

Please, kids, listen to me: it's not because we hate technology; it's not because we hate you; it's not because we can't cope with the changing times -- it's that we SEE the changes that you never saw because you're growing up in a "smart" world and so it's automatically normalized for you, and that's a dangerous precedent. These appliances are sinister and do not do anything better than the old-ass "dumb" appliances. You are trading your privacy for Nothing. For Whistles and Bells. For things that Do Not Matter.

[kavumas-blog]

A Plea for Hope: Surviving as an LGBTQ Refugee

Ever since I was forced to flee my home country because of my sexuality, life has been a relentless struggle. What once was home—full of laughter, shared meals, and a sense of belonging—was turned into a place of fear and persecution. My identity, something I could never change, became a reason for rejection, violence, and the unimaginable pain of losing everything.

Today, I find myself far from home, fighting to survive. Each day is a challenge—finding enough food to eat, clean water to drink, a safe place to rest, and access to basic medication. Hunger gnaws at me constantly, but the ache of loneliness cuts even deeper.

As LGBTQ people, we are often told that we are a family, that we are each other's strength when the world turns its back. I am reaching out to that family now. My LGBTQ brothers and sisters, this is my plea: I need help.

No one should have to face hunger, homelessness, or the terror of being unsafe simply for existing. I know that many of us have endured hardships, and some may still be walking through fire. Yet, I hold onto hope that compassion, kindness, and solidarity can carry us through.

If you are reading this and you understand the pain of being rejected for who you are, know that I see you. And if you have the ability to help—whether by sharing this story, offering resources, or simply sending words of encouragement—please do.

This isn’t just about me; it’s about all of us. Our strength as a community lies in how we care for one another, even in the darkest times.

To those who are struggling like I am: Hold on. I see you. I love you. And to those who can help, thank you for being the light someone desperately needs today.

Together, we can make survival possible. Together, we can remind each other that love—our love—will always be stronger than hate.

[1980shorrorfilm]

pain breaks the rhythm

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

pairing…ellie williams x gn!vampire!reader

in which…ellie wants you to bite her out of curiosity. or something more.

before you read…18+. no smut; vampirism is just sexual. blood drinking.

nirvana plays lowly in ellie’s dorm, her warm fairy lights mixed with orange halloween ones, on the verge of falling due to how lazily she placed them.

they cast a warm glow in the small space, and over the few scattered books on her bed. they lay in between you, along with some notes, both of you sitting in silence as your brains are completely fried from studying at this point.

ellie hasn’t even spoken in five minutes, and knowing her, that means her mind is either empty or on overdrive. she keeps looking at you, as you keep looking at your phone, awaiting a message from whatever girl replies first.

your appetite is growing by the minute, and you can feel it. it causes your head to hurt, and your fingers to fidget, tapping them on your thigh as you attempt to focus on the opened textbook before you.

your little secret wasn’t a secret to ellie. you had trusted her with it, because you trust her with your entire life. she had found the whole thing fascinating, like something out of the many comic books she grew up reading.

except, this is reality, and it’s not as pretty as those colorful pages make it out to be. you’re not a murderer, you don’t have it in you. you’ll stalk the alleys of jackson for rats when desperate, and butter up pretty girls who think your bite is just that— a bite.

a painful yet sensational feeling that makes them want more, and why you rely on them in moments like these.

and for some reason, none of them want to fucking reply to you tonight. it feels like torture, and ellie almost feels bad watching you grow anxious— but she also doesn’t. you and another girl…it makes her want to throw up.

she’s not caught up with her lore, but a kiss from a vampire is equivalent to a proposal to her. and no one, other than her, deserves that from you. she tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth, heart jumping out of its chest when she finally speaks, “i’m curious.”

“hm?” you hum, glancing at your phone again, going over your irrelevant notifications to see if you missed anything. “what it feels like…you know…”

you look up at her, “what?”

“a bite…what it feels like,” she says shamefully; as if she’s admitting the most taboo thing ever. maybe because she had imagined it, seeing you at a corner of a party, head snuggled comfortably in a blonde woman’s neck, everyone else distracted by the blaring music and bumping bodies while she was stunned like a deer in headlights.

how she wasn’t disturbed, she was so far from. she thought about it being her, and letting you take what you wanted, not just what you needed. she could be your personal buffet, she would do that for you in a heartbeat. ellie could satisfy you. no one else, just her.

but, you laugh at her words, as if she told you a joke. ellie did have a habit of shitty vampire jokes and puns, often made in group settings because she thinks it is hilarious to have such an inside joke. she grabs your complete attention, “i’m serious.”

the smile you wore, leaves your face, understanding what she was trying to imply without asking. something off the table, absolutely forbidden.

“no…no, ellie,” you tell her, the rejection like a stake to the heart. there was absolutely nothing more in this universe you’d want more than to taste her, just the idea of it makes your heart beat even faster, shaking your head as though it would rid the enticing picture. you’re hungry enough as is.

“why?”

“because ellie.”

“you can do it to anyone else but not me?”

her question is more of a salty remark, causing you to glare at her, ellie now quickly swallowing whatever other comment she already had prepared. she doesn’t get it, she really doesn’t, and you cannot explain it to her.

how drinking from other people is a necessity, like eating food to her. how you have absolutely no emotional attachment to them, and you don’t crave any more than you’re given.

and with her, someone you love deeply, you could drain her completely. which isn’t an overstatement. you’ve watched the blood run along her veins on more than one occasion, how thick and sweet it is.

you can taste it on your tongue without having a single drop if it…how good it would taste running down your throat. you would get drunk off of her.

“it’s not that simple…you’re…you,” you scratch the back of your neck, confusion crossing her pretty features at the statement. “i’m me?”

“yeah…god, ellie, can we drop it?”

you don’t mean to sound so frustrated, but you are. ellie isn’t aware of the weight of her words, how her desire isn’t just hers. you share it, you want her. you want to quite literally devour her.

your phone vibrates, ellie trying to read the notification, someone asking to meet up with a stupid wink face. a sigh leaves her lips, sinking into her bed, redirecting her gaze to the book in her lap.

“see you tomorrow?” she quietly says, assuming you’re ready to go have dinner. and you should, you know you should, but you remain seated on her bed.

“it’s…hard…when it’s someone close to you,” you try to explain, “and i could hurt you.”

she’s sat up straight again, green eyes boring into you. “could isn’t a for sure thing,” ellie says, “i could get hit by a car tomorrow.”

“that’s not— you don’t get it.”

“i do,” she groans, tossing her head back, huffing, then looking back at you, “…i…trust you.”

the contemplation rests on your face, ellie noticing, her determination still adamant. she reaches for your hand, grabs it, and faintly leans forward.

“you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.”

the cool air thickens with tension as you consider her request, listening to how hard her heartbeat thuds. it compels you, along with the unwavering gaze of her green irises, luring you into her. she adds, “it’ll be a win-win.”

ellie is right. you think you could attack the first person you’d see when you leave her room, suck them until the light leaves their eyes— mouth salivating thinking about it. you’re practically starving, or so feel that way, and ellie could easily relieve you.

“okay.”

you expect a shit-eating grin on her face, the mischief glint in her eyes whenever you give her what she wants. and this was practically giving her the greatest gift on earth, yet her mouth drops ajar and she looks shocked, even nervous.

“really?”

“yeah…if that’s what you want.”

“yeah— yeah,” she responds almost too quickly, but she has already shown her desperation for you.

you push away everything in between you two, getting close enough to where you’re nearly in her lap.

“it’ll hurt.”

“i can take it.”

you watch the low spoken words leave her mouth, the suggestive tone combined with her hand squeezing yours, abruptly taking the air from you. for a moment, you find yourself more attracted to her lips, than her neck.

a very brief moment, because you’re swiftly distracted by the pumping of her jugular, the veins screaming at you.

you steady yourself, “ready?”

ellie nods, and with that, she lets your gentle hand cradle one side of her jaw, tilting it upward. her breathing hitches while you move in closer, fangs grazing the soft skin of her neck.

the heat radiating from her pulse sends shivers throughout your entire body, carnal desire growing stronger each millisecond that passes. along came restraint, slowly sinking your canine teeth in the side of her neck, afraid of actually hurting her.

she gasps immediately, guilt hitting you at the noise. maybe you should pull back. maybe you should stop, and apologize to her for even agreeing to this.

but the moment her smooth blood runs down your tongue, your delicate pressure turns into something feverish, electrifying. you crave more.

you bite harder, sucking the crimson from her body with your eyes fluttering to the back of your head, your worries about the ordeal fading into oblivion. ellie tastes even better than your fantasies, like the ripest fruit in the orchard, so fucking rich.

she is unlike anyone else— you mean that in every way, but the taste of her might just drive you mad. the way her blood rushes into your lungs, she fills you up just right.

when she whimpers, you moan, continuing to feast on her, the warm liquid is like ecstasy. ellie is gripping the sheets beneath her, the pain she feels is euphoric. addicting. damn perfect.

you’re driving her to an edge she’s never been before, in between life and death, a high that makes her body feel lightweight and her mind empty. the only thing she can think about is you, and your fangs inside of her, her life being in your hands as she gives you life.

for ellie, it is the best feeling in the fucking world.

she truthfully believes you could gnaw on her flesh until it was raw, and she would welcome the burning sensation with wide open, and loving, arms. she falls back, onto her pillows, your lips not leaving her for a single second.

“fu…” ellie murmurs, unable to finish the word, mind suddenly blanking.

on top of her, you can feel ellie shuddering beneath you; this is it.

for a moment, everything fades away. her warmth, her pulse, and the world surrounding you. you listen to her whimper once more, the color leaving all of her features, going pale.

your indulgence comes to an end, divorcing yourself from the crook of her neck, scanning her face out of worry you had gone too far.

she’s exhausted, breathless, fluttering her eyes at you. her pupils are blown, looking at you with pure admiration, as if you’re an angel hovering before her. then, she smiles faintly at you. and how beautiful she looks so drained underneath you.

you bring a hand to her face, thumb stroking her freckled cheek gently, “still with me?”

“mhm,” she hums, and you give her a moment to collect herself. you await for her heart rate to return to normal, for her temperature to rise, hand traveling down to her neck in the meantime.

softly, you touch the puncture wound, a strange feeling of pride at the mark. not wanting to heal it, and not wanting ellie to cover it up. it’ll remain a happy reminder of tonight.

when ellie’s pupils are no longer fuzzy, she takes in the view before her, her blood coating your face, on your mouth, on your chin. sinful thoughts run through her head, it makes her feel wrong— perverse —but with how tantalizing you look, she doesn’t care.

ellie almost wants to take a polaroid, and keep it locked away safely in her underwear drawer, afraid this won’t happen again.

she reaches for your face, thumb swiping the stray trail of crimson on your chin. you think she’s cleaning herself off of you, but she has different intentions.

after experiencing such an intimate moment with you, ellie feels bold, and she keeps it going, daring to brush her thumb against your lips— giving you a very clear signal, and order.

one that you accept, mouth opening slightly. her finger slips in, and your tongue curls around it.

ellie’s teeth dig into her bottom lip while you suck the blood off of her thumb, your eyes shut in bliss at the mere taste of her. you wouldn’t waste a single drop.

ellie is hypnotized by you, by the way you bring your hands to her forearm, holding her tightly in place until you are finished. and when you are, you glance back down at her, noticing how flustered she is by the pink hues of her cheek.

you can’t help but laugh, and she gulps, realizing she’s been caught in her trance. it’s cute.

the sudden confidence she had is now fleeting as you crawl off of her, ellie searching for the right thing to say. unfortunately for her, the only words that want to come out are ‘i love you,’ as if you had just taken her fucking virginity.

she decides to keep her mouth shut, lying there dazed.

ellie would happily die to you, if this was the death you’d give her.

[reasonsforhope]

"In a bid to slow deforestation in the Amazon, Brazil announced Tuesday [September 5, 2023,] that it will provide financial support to municipalities that have reduced deforestation rates the most.

During the country´s Amazon Day, President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva also signed the creation of two Indigenous territories that total 207,000 hectares (511,000 acres) — over two times the size of New York City — and of a network of conservation areas next to the Yanonami Indigenous Territory to act as a buffer against invaders, mostly illegal gold miners.

“The Amazon is in a hurry to survive the devastation caused by those few people who refuse to see the future, who in a few years cut down, burned, and polluted what nature took millennia to create,” Lula said during a ceremony in Brasilia. “The Amazon is in a hurry to continue doing what it has always done, to be essential for life on Earth.”

The new program will invest up to $120 million in technical assistance. The money will be allocated based on the municipality´s performance in reducing deforestation and fires, as measured by official satellite monitoring. A list of municipalities eligible for the funds will be published annually.

The resources must be invested in land titling, monitoring and control of deforestation and fires, and sustainable production.

The money will come from the Amazon Fund, which has received more than $1.2 billion, mostly from Norway, to help pay for sustainable development of the region. In February, the United States committed to a $50 million donation to the initiative. Two months later, President Joe Biden announced he would ask Congress for an additional $500 million, to be disbursed over five years.

The most critical municipalities are located along the arc of deforestation, a vast region along the southern part of the Amazon. This region is a stronghold of former far-right President Jair Bolsonaro, who favored agribusiness over forest preservation and lost the reelection last year.

“We believe that it’s not enough to just put up a sign saying ‘it’s forbidden to do this or that. We need to be persuasive.” Lula said, in a reference to his relationship with Amazon mayors and state governors.

Lula has promised zero net deforestation by 2030, although his term ends two years earlier. In the first seven months of his third term, there was a 42% drop in deforestation.

[Note: For context, Lula's third term as president started January 1, 2023. It was not continuous with his first two terms, when he was president from 2003 to 2010. Lula's third term has been a historic and desperately needed reversal of the anti-environmental, etc. policies of Bolsonaro, whose term ended at the end of 2022.]

Brazil is the world’s fifth-largest emitter of greenhouse gases, with almost 3% of global emissions, according to Climate Watch, an online platform managed by World Resources Institute. Almost half of these emissions come from deforestation. Under the 2015 Paris Agreement, Brazil committed to reducing carbon emissions by 37% by 2025 and 43% by 2030."

-via AP, September 5, 2023

[steelbonded]

Meet Calvin, a 22-year-old police officer from Ottendorf, a small town of The People's Republic of Harmonia. He grew up in the sketcher part of town and witnessed countless crimes in his childhood. His sense of justice and servicing his community and order drew him to enlist as an officer.

When he graduated from the academy at 19, the radical leftist government of Harmonia "reallocated" funds away from the police. First, they "demilitarize" the police. Abolishing the SWAT teams, removing semi-automatic. Then they "disarmed" them. Handing back their pistol. They then shortly "decriminalized" all drug use.

Calvin saw firsthand how Ottendorf and Harmonia spiralled out of control and he had no resources nor power to prevent it.

The Steelbonded Republic was created to break away from Harmonia to defend the law, obey authority and reestablish order throughout what was Harmonia and beyond.

It was only two days ago when troops from the Steelbonded Republic liberated the town of Ottendorf. Calvin accepted them with open arms as order and authority needed to be established quickly.

The republic senses Calvin's desire for order and offers Calvin a new chance, to be remodelled into Steelbonded's police officer. To join in their mission, to spread order and conquer misery. "

"You have chosen peace and order," said CPO-103-0A94, his new commanding officer as he went to Ottendorf's Town hall to enlist in Steelbonded's forces.

"This will be uniform, wear it and soon you will be integrated into us"

Calvin marveled at the new uniform, jet black equipped with advanced technology that he will never have access to in Harmonia. It would be stupid to not serve Steelbonded, after all the values of Steelbonded are why he signed up for the police forces in the first place. Calvin nodded and donned the uniform, with the flag of Steelbonded and his new tag APR-093-202D proudly displayed on his left chest.

"Wear the helmet and your integration will be complete." CPO-103-0A94 gave him a jet-black helmet with a thick visor. The helmet is heavier than it appears, at least 7 kg but nether less, Kevin manually adjusts the helmet, positioning it securely onto his head.

Calvin was drowned in darkness as the visor fitted snuggly on his face. How are you supposed to see anything Calvin wondered. Little did Calvin know was the helmet is equipped with advanced neural technology, and is designed to interface seamlessly with his brain, mapping out neural pathways and preparing to inject The Steelbonded Republic values.

The helmet activated as soon as it was able to identify key neurological points that response to resistance and areas susceptible to suggestion. Flashing lights and discordant sounds play within the helmet to weaken Calvin and prepare the brain for the inauguration.

Panicked, Calvin immediately tried to grab the shell of the helmet to desperately pull the helmet off. The helmet refused to budge. He tried to peel the helmet off, desperately trying to find the seams between the helmet and his combat shirt. As he didn't know, his helmet and his uniform had been sealed together to form one complete piece, trapping him inside.

Noticing his struggles, CPO-103-0A94 approached Calvin.

"Just relax, Calvin and surrender control. Individuality is harmful. Join the conformity. Resistance is meaningless. Empty your mind and accept your new identity APR-093-202D. You crave order. You crave structure. You crave discipline. You are APR-093-202D. Let the NEW COUNTRY in you and you will be a vessel to serve The Steelbonded Republic."

The familiar but authoritative voice of a CPO-103-0A94 washes him in calamity, supplemented by the helmet's hijacking of his higher conative reasoning reducing his mental resistance.

An endless loop of images, videos and symbols of the The Steelbonded Republic then bombards Calvin APR-093-202D. Scenes depicting the glory and might of the police force and military are regularly shown. Whenever order and law are enforced, the helmet releases a splurge of dopamine to signal conformity and order is pleasurable. “Unity is strength,” “Obedience is protection,” and “The state is supreme” echo in an unending loop.

After endless hours of conditioning, CPO-103-0A94 orders APR-093-202D. "Identify yourself."

"I am APR-093-202D, sir! I serve The Steelbonded Republic and its laws must be enforced. Order must be established!"

202D is ready, CPO-103-0A94 determined. He will be the property of the republic and be integrated with republic forces. Acting as a nod, CPO-103-0A94 connects 202D to republic's server and integrating 202D within the vast forces of The Steelbonded Republic. For 0A94, this is the ultimate glory, expanding The Steelbonded Republic's empire. 202D was the first but not last Ottendorf officers to be indoctrinated into the republic.

APR-093-202D stands among the rest of his Ottendorf officers APR-093-202E, F and G and among the Apprentice Police Reserve (APR) with the same uniform. Each officer is visually identical, with identical body armour, tactical boots, and a helmet that completely obscures the upper part of the face. The only hint of their individuality is their identification number tag plastered on the front and back of their chest. They are after all, one vessel. To establish law and order within The Steelbonded Republic.

[sluttysissyslave]

For Sissies and Alike!

This is a very long post so bear with me, do with it what you wish, forget it if you want to, but maybe, just maybe consider it. So, let me tell you why and how you all became what you are today, and how to go forward. If you feel you relate to it then let it sit, if it doesn't, forget about it.

Most of you developed these feelings when you were alone and sad, your standards dropped lower and lower without you even realizing it, and next thing you know you're fantasizing about being a slut for women, or maybe even men. But what you forgot about, was that originally, you were just searching for female affection, the touch of that girl you really liked but were too afraid to go up to. You became so desperate for love, for some sort of connection that you started modifying things... "Maybe if I submit myself to a woman she will finally love me" you degraded yourself for love you didn't try hard enough to get. And now, behind a digital screen you've found what you call your little safe space, you don't feel like you're alone in this anymore, it's your coping mechanism. You seek validation in a place designed for men to be degraded, not validated. If you started cross-dressing when you were young. Ask yourself: did you get a lot of human connection? Did your parents pay attention to you? You realised that girls receive all the attention, the love you so desperately wanted that no-one gave you when you were young. So you subconsciously realised the being a girl could get you that. When you wore the girly clothes and finally felt warm, and embraced, you just manifested that for yourself over time and when it happened you actually believed it, which is only natural, that's what manifestation does. Your mind tricked you into believing that you found what you were looking for. 

So, we've established that doing sexually feminine things is because submissive thoughts in a gay way is because you crave the love and affection you've been missing in your life. 

Some people call this mental illness, I think that's disrespectful and inaccurate, I say these traits are mental coping mechanisms, and you know what? They feel good, they feel great in fact, but they aren't what you were meant to be, you find solace and comfort in those rushes of endorphins and other feel-good chemicals. But let me remind you, this isn't a long-term solution, you will realize this as time goes on, so you'll go even more extreme to cope, to get an even bigger rush. You need to reconsider, the withdrawal will feel terrible, but the way you are currently going won't get you to the desires you were always meant to have, not the ones you might think you're currently suppressing.

Brainwashing:

Arguably you are truly the victims, but no-one is coming to save you but yourself. You will always be tested, from all sides, it's up to you whether you give in or not. Be strong, don't give in, stand your ground. Trust that there's always a better way, a better option, one that's more rewarding than the path you're on now.

So why are you the victims? Well in modern western society it is being slowly programmed into people from a very young age, as soon as they can absorb information. Ideologies that men are worthless, good for nothing, and that women are superior. I don't want to go into the details of why this is the case because then you'll be reading this until tomorrow, but trust me that it's the case, and let me prove it with an adequate example. Most submissive men (and all woke and other LGBT people are all located in the "rich" west), almost none in eastern and conservative countries. Why is that? They don't have exposure to these things from a young age, it's not that sissies and alike don't exist there, they aren't created. Also they are often poorer than you are, with lots of social security, peace and plentiful resources, people get lazy and weak, those people living in let's say, Moldova, have other things to worry about than putting on makeup and sticking a butt plug up their bum. They aren't suppressing any femininity (sexually), they never had any to begin with.

Let's talk about how you and your thoughts are being manipulated.

Origins in modern pop culture:

Tv shows - the man is always the idiot and the woman is always the smart, reasonable one. That wasn't always the case in civilized history, both men and women were smart and reasonable, their combined traits completed each other's and they could be a strong couple. Let's look at some examples… It starts with Friends - Joey, Chandler, are portrayed as a bit dumb, and the girls generally smarter. The Simpsons - Homer is an idiot, his wife is the real boss. Family Guy - Peter is an absolute idiot and Louis is the brains of the family, a voice of reason. And it's even in shows for little children, in Peppa pig The father is hardly a figure to look up to. The disrespect towards men has been going on for decades, and it really started, rather perhaps interestingly, after the fall of the Soviet Union, but I once again don't want to get into politics or else this post will never end. We are at a stage now where especially if you're white you are almost persecuted for it. You can't disagree when I say all people should be treated equally right? So why doesn't that apply to race. A fitting quote to go by for this would be: "Don't humiliate yourself before anyone, and don't haughty yourself over anyone"

I actually feel terrible for the genuine, kind, trans women who have done so much for themselves and still don't maybe feel good and satisfied. You've had to overcome a lot in pursuit of happiness, and whether you made you right or wrong choice is now irrelevant. Try to live your best life with what you have, and don't look back, it's too late for that anyway, it would only make things worse now. Look towards the future and never look back, do things which make YOU happy, and not someone else.

For dominant women: Don't see this as a threat, there will always be guys who are more submissive, everyone is definitely and spread out all across the scale, you'll find who you're looking for, only men with with low self-esteem want a weak-minded woman who they can control in all aspects of life. Most men like a strong-minded woman, I also want a strong woman. But don't confuse this for sexual submissiveness/dominance, those aren't the same thing. Feminine doesn't mean weak! 

General statement: The world is all butterflies and fairy tales now, enjoy it while you can, it will get worse, wars are coming, political and ideological changes are going to happen and if you are unprepared then, I have news, it won't end well. You are living in a digital jail right now, you are getting affected/manipulated, but at the end of the day you are the one who holds your own phone or opens your computer. Give yourself the power to control yourself, and free yourself of this jail.

IDEAS AND SOLUTIONS

Become the type man you'd want to serve: Often I see people with slight or fully gay fantasies about men, or being outperformed by certain men (women want them and not you. Become that man. It's going to be hard, in fact it's going to be the hardest thing you will ever do in your life, and it won't even come close. Try it, a person should be adventurous in life so why wouldn't you like to feel what it's like being that person? And the best part is, if you don't like it, you can go back to what you were before and say that you've tried it all and found what you really are, but you can't say that without actually experiencing it, not even a discussion. It'll be a process for a minimum of 1-2 years, and will require discipline and self-control, hey that's similar to serving and/or being locked in chastity, both of those require discipline and self-control too. You can do it.

Find yourself: People love talking about finding themselves, I read it here every now and again, "I found my true self here". You cannot find yourself behind a digital screen, you will find yourself by putting yourself in difficult situations, the easiest way to do that is by going into nature. Take a large backpack with only your essentials and survive in the forest for a week. If that's too much, then just go out in the morning, spend the night and come back, walking through terrain and getting to some destination. Maybe you live in a cold climate, in winter go out into the snow and walk around the forests all day. Remember to bring an emergency phone if going to places you don't know too well. 

Estrogen vs Testosterone: Estrogen makes you girly, and Testosterone manly, we know that right? To increase your estrogen naturally you can drink soy product, live an unhealthy lifestyle, and mentally stimulate yourself. You cannot produce as much estrogen naturally as a woman does, you'd have to take supplements. A healthy lifestyle in women increases their estrogen, and a healthy lifestyle in men increases their testosterone. You can increase your testosterone by exercising, eating meat (protein), onion, dark chocolate, a Mediterranean diet is pretty good, and of course getting high quality sleep, (here I am at 3am writing this post - hypocrite, I'm ashamed and I'll work on it).

Reward yourself. When you achieved a goal to becoming your new masculine life, treat yourself to something fulfilling. Whether it's some sort of food or an experience. We all need positive affirmations. You can reflect on what you've done well and what you've done poorly. Like me who wanted to s few important things and instead procrastinated for 3 days, hence, no reward, but as double self motivation I'll do a super big reward after putting myself together and getting all I wanted done (this post was no. 5 priority).

Belief. Believe in yourself that you can do it, your mind is extremely powerful, you give it less credit than it deserves, if you channel it the right way then it was serve you as a great tool.

Energy. Energy is another real, powerful, but invisible thing. Have you ever entered a historical religious place of worship? Like an ancient church in Europe or a mosque in the old Ottoman Empire like Turkey or even spain, a Buddhist or Hindu temple in Asia… they all have energy which you can feel, you absorb things differently with various energies. Or maybe more relatable, you're having fun at an outgoing fun party, you feel good right, smiling and enjoying life. That's positive energy. If you put yourself in environments with the type of energy you are currently looking for, it will help, a lot. I don't mean to say you should be religious or anything, but there's nothing wrong if you are or want to, it gives you hope and a sense of safety and security in its own ways.

Stand up for yourself. Have some morals and beliefs which you like and stand by. Don't be afraid to defend them in an argument.

This is my first authentic post on this website and I was very hesitant to make it, after all no-one might even read what I spent so much time on, but if at least one person is somehow positively influenced then it was worth it. I know that I will probably be reported by someone simply because they didn't agree with what I wrote, and my account will be taken down. If you don't agree with the things I said then ignore them, I made this for people who can resonate with something I wrote (not at all necessarily all of it), people who don't even know why they like the things they like, know it's not what they always wanted but find pleasure in it now. Hence please reblog if you like what you read, it won't be here forever.

If you are unsure or want to discuss anything feel free to DM.

If you want to do some research yourself, start with researching "Subliminal perception". It's absolutely everywhere and affects everyone, like it or not.

I might start positive things with a little political subcontext explaining my points further.

[arcadianambivalence]

IWTV S2E2 and History

One thing I really appreciate about this show is how it interacts with its historical setting. I worried that when Louis and Claudia left New Orleans last season, the show would start to shirk the historical details, but the latest episode has given me enough historical tidbits to chew on (pun intended).

Hidden behind the humor of lines like "Paris is shit" and the thrill of meeting other vampires, there's a sense of foreboding lingering beside the recent traumas.

As with the first episode of season 2, Louis and Claudia are surrounded by reminders of war, even if they do not have the context (or empathy) for the survivors they encounter. Claudia complains that she has to pick twice as many pockets to get by, but the two are still able to afford an apartment. Meanwhile, food staples and clothing are still rationed, but people and pigeons are easy to come by.

"Paris was Nazi scar tissue at the time..."

Louis explains, but the scars historically ran deeper than a tourist (and Louis is The stereotypical tourist in this episode) could understand. Blackouts, food shortages, rations, soldiers, and refugees linger at the corners of the episode.

Even Madeline is introduced to us by a man warning Claudia that she was a collaborator or Nazi sympathizer (he does a subtle salute and points to the shop window), which will certainly influence how the next episodes take her through her narrative beats.

The plays performed by the Théâtre des Vampires cross 1920s to 1940s expressionism with absurdity and horror. Even after all this time, Louis is unenthused about the theatrical performances.

"The plays were weird. They always ended in death or some kind of cruel, barely motivated violence."

Armand's reply is dulled by the onstage spectacle:

"Life is cruel. Life is violent. [...] It was all a seduction to lure the cattle into a willing belief of disbelief."

It's a line that is all the more concerning if you know where the story is going...

Annika, the doomed woman onstage, is from Belgium, yet another country recovering from occupation and war. When she desperately tries to convince the audience to flee (not just for them to help her, but to save themselves), she speaks Dutch, so neither the French nor English-speaking audience members understand her.

Still in character, Santiago pretends to offer her a choice. She could live if she gives up someone to die in her place, if she, as the phrase goes, "turns someone in." First, he offers to take her husband, and she refuses. Then he offers to take her son, and again she refuses. Finally, he points to a man in the audience. She nods vigorously, but it's a cruel joke.

Santiago has already made up his mind about her. He addresses the man, warning him against trusting his neighbors:

"They'll give you up in a wink."

As if someone who spent the last five years in occupied France would need reminding.

The warning is for us, the viewers.

Later, the troupe takes Louis and Claudia to a mansion, ostensibly to eat people who, apparently, hoarded resources from the black market. Another show for Claudia and Louis, tourists who still think of themselves as the "good" vampires. Because why would a troupe of vampires concern themselves with that? They don't need anything from the black market. They don't eat anything from the black market. Where was this sense of justice in recent years?

As with Annika, it's yet another excuse to enact cruel and public violence against people they consider less than them.

So when Santiago's introductory prologue includes lines like:

"Being vampires, and by nature superior to you mortals, we can [...] disrupt your tiny ship called human decency."

"Our jobs, which is at the heart of it, to laugh alongside your misery while you cry and scream for more."

"Everything you're about to see is real. Remember that when you leave here tonight. You are all complicit [...] I love you for it."

You know things are not going to get better for Louis and Claudia.

[hulloitsdani]

I have another thought bunny or rat and it involved lif from book 3

So assuming from book 3 we know that his summoner die being Kiran fire emblem heroes or whoever you name the summoner do you think it's oddly suspicious that we never even fight the undead version of the summoner other than the fact that the summoner feature would be in book 4 but not counting the meta reason to me it doesn't make sense that hel the literal goddess of the death can't make the summoner rise from the dead because to me it will be good to mess with alfonse and give lif more of a chain to kill the askr tro to fullfil lifs contract

It's almost like lif thought his summoner is dead but for all we know his summoner could be back at their own world alive in some pocket dimension or whatever

Something to think about

*cracks knuckles* Book 3 rambles let’s go.

So, to answer your question, no. I don’t think it’s particularly odd. In text, it’s implied that Líf and Thrasir technically haven’t “died.” They were the sole survivors of the blood rite, made their deal with Hel, and she has run them both ragged ever since. She hasn’t granted them rest. The only time they truly achieve it is when our heroes finally put them out of their misery and THEN Hel raises their empty bodies (found in Ch13 Part 3). Our heroes kill them once more and then their torment is finally over.

This does raise a question however; what happened to everyone else when the blood rite was activated? Does Hel not have control over them? Well, on an in-story level, I imagine the magic rite used to create a weapon powerful enough to kill Hel wouldn’t also give Hel more power. It is death she cannot use, because all those souls are being used to power the weapon. It’s why it killed everyone and everything around it. It needed them as fuel. This would explain why Kiran might not exactly be available— in activating the blood rite, they were killed by it first.

But then, on a writing level, each season of FEH has a limited run time and they only include so much. By opening that particular Pandora’s box, you would be calling for answers for everyone in the cast. If this world’s Kiran is still here, even if it’s just their empty body, then where is Anna? Where is Sharena? Hell, is Bruno around? This is not a bad thing per se, but it would require a lot more words, more art/resources, and potentially snipe the effectiveness of how crippling alone this Alfonse and Veronica are. In my opinion, it’s a smart decision to leave it as is. All we need to know is that they’re dead, they all failed, and Líf and Thrasir are DESPERATE to fix this. It’s a lot more sad that way! Which is good! No need to hold back punches in the season about death.

Now, my personal brand of analysis loves treating Kiran as less of an avatar and more as an individual. Our pov character being the silliest little guy brings me joy. So, one of the reasons why I love thinking about Líf’s Askr is because the remains we find imply a Greek tragedy chain of events that culminated in Kiran of all people having to activate the blood rite. Based on what we know about these characters, that’s the last person they’d EVER want pulling the lever on that trolly problem. It’s not a fair ask! Kiran was ripped from their home, summoned to an alien world, asked to fight in wars on Askr’s behalf (they have never fought anyone in their life), and is now being asked to sacrifice themself and millions in order to maybe kill a goddess of death? No! That’s not fair! None of this is, but that’s a step too far. Asking for them to spill their blood in this way for a country that is not their own would be cruel. A blatant abuse of their generosity. These are not the types of a characters who would do that. I wouldn’t be surprised if despite the circumstances, there might have been an effort to find a way to send Kiran back once it was clear how screwed everyone was. No one wants to see them hurt. Everyone, but Alfonse in particular, makes it their mission to protect Kiran. So, for things to end this way, it would imply a lot of people being dead and million things having gone horrifically wrong.

It would imply Kiran, scared and alone in a Emblian blood temple, having to make an awful choice.

[fierceawakening]

Like, re the whole “does restorative justice work on powerful rich white men” question, let’s take Michael Cohen.

I can’t say for sure if he’s trustworthy now, but that’s how he presents himself. As rehabilitated. As someone who was addicted to the thrill of doing illegal things and getting away with it, the power trip of being a bully. That he got so caught up in it he pushed away his family and rejected any warnings no matter from whom.

But he’s good now. Supposedly. (I personally lean toward believing he’s truly remorseful. He publicly takes responsibility for most of what he did. There’s a few things he grumbles about but that actually makes me more inclined to believe him, not less—if he was lying he’d more likely put 100% into the persona, not 92%.)

So if something did change him, what was it? Did he get the most state of the art non punitive restorative justice and rethink his life?

No. He went to prison, the thing we want to abolish. He did the thing we say no one should do.

And if he truly had a change of heart rather than just deciding it’s more expedient to be on the country’s side than his ex-boss’s…

…it happened before that anyway.

What led him to flip, from the accounts I can find, was that while he was told that he had friends in high places who’d protect him, Trump and the team also showed signs they meant to discard him.

Angry and disillusioned, he turned on them.

But notice. What were those signals?

“We won’t save you from punishment. We don’t care enough to really try.”

So he turned on them. He took his licks with grace and fumed not against the system for not handling him gently but against the person he warped his whole life for, as doing so didn’t matter in the end.

When I say I think fear of punishment works I don’t mean I think we should go around terrifying people. I mean that if we continue to send the message that eventually your crimes are gonna catch up with you, and if we demonstrate this by having it happen even to powerful people, some people give up criming.

We need both. The gentleness for the people who are desperate, confused, protesting, or not in their right mind, and the “nope dude you need to fucking stop” for the people who are in their right mind, have the resources they need to survive, and pull shit anyway.

[unrelentingforse]

Some of y'all really can't comprehend the idea of visual storytelling.

Sevika being given a seat at the council is not a solution to the classism issue. BECAUSE IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE.

She was not accepted. Because classism can't be fixed within a week or a month or even years. But her getting a seat at the council was the first step in reaching that goal. Obviously not everyone sees zaunites as equal people. BECAUSE BARELY ANY TIME HAS PASSED!

Some of y'all hate the idea of an open ending and it shows. Did you want to see a sickly sweet ending where everyone is happy and alive, every issue was fixed and there were no problems anymore at all? If you really wanted that - you need to watch paw patrol. Because this is an adult animated show. Not a single issue in our world is fixed fully without any unforeseen consequences. Why wouldn't that be the case for arcane?

Also I saw someone being mad at the fact that class issue was not fully fleshed out in S2. Really? Was it? What about the whole security checkpoint thing? About the brutality of enforcers towards zaunites who were jinx's followers? About the way Gerd acted when she was supposed to be searched? About the whole jail thing? About how hesitant zaunites were to enter the enforcers to protect the city from Viktors cult? My point is - classism is still very much a problem in piltover and NO ONE IS DENYING THAT.

Yes, in a perfect world the whole council system would be dismantled and replaced with...something better for both of the cities. But Runeterra isn't perfect. Our world isn't perfect. And even if that were to happen - you need to destroy the whole system in every possible country and city of this universe. And for that you would need another 10 seasons. Which Fortiche didn't have. They literally had only 2 seasons to work with from the start. With 9 episodes in each. It's literally not possible to fit THAT many plot points into 18 episodes.

Might I add that this is a prequel for League of Legends? You know, what was before the whole plot of the game, how the characters came to be themselves? They wanted to show the history of piltover/zaun war. And in the current lore they have a council. Which is led by piltover royalty. And is corrupt. And this is bad. It's supposed to be bad to create conflict in a story.

Yes, in this day and age we desperately need stories about the fall of the empire, change for the better, and the resistance of oppressed people. We want that hope. I agree that this could be a good ending. But like I said earlier - it is literally not possible to fit that many events into 18 episodes when the story was always supposed to be about the arcane, the magic within it.

I would love for Fortiche to have the full creative freedom and unlimited resources to create a compelling large-scale story about our favorite characters. I really do. I understand people who are mad about the ending. But I'm begging you not to get mad at the creators. Animators, writers, sound engineers, character designers, voice actors, directors, showrunners - all of those people deserve nothing but the praise for the amount of work they put into our beloved show for god knows how many years. For the masterpiece they were able to create under such pressure both from riot and netflix.

[seat-safety-switch]

Something about the way that Big Business likes to operate in this country rubs me the wrong way. They stride into little, upstanding communities and push them around to get a slightly better deal on extracting our precious, non-renewable natural resources. Only pollution and human misery is left behind. For a brief, shining moment, I was the solution to this corruption. And then I kind of let things go to my head.

Running for office is easier than you'd think. All you need to do is get signatures of a hundred people. An afternoon at the mall, asking folks to save the endangered Pacific African Grey Rhino, will just about do you. Of course, there's also the filing fee, but I managed to distract the lady working the counter at City Hall and transfer the cheque from another mayoral application to mine when she wasn't looking.

Quite why I fell out of favour with The Mayor is between him and I. We go way back, and it would not reflect well on my upbringing to reveal our private feud in public. Not like it stopped him, though, as he blabbed to every talk-radio host, morning-news talking head, and local newspaper about how awful I was. They just laughed, thinking that nobody could be that bad, and surely it was some kind of desperate lie, another sign that he had lost touch with the common man. Such embellishment did get my name in the public ear, and I won in a landslide after promising to double speed limits (that's all it takes.)

From day one, I went about kicking all the huge-capitalism greedheads out of my city, mostly because I got tired of them driving their Porsches slowly on my newly speed-unlimited corners. Big lawsuits were launched, rich folks ejected into the nearest river. I was on the news every day in my stained coveralls and greasy sweater, adding further credibility to my regular-dude motif. If you were some kind of crank weirdo who liked to tell other people at the bar what the government should do, then I was your representative. And crank it I did. Wait, that came out wrong.

After about a week of this, I think the big business monsters got together. They went to their little gangster restaurant and they decided the best way to get rid of me would be to catch me up in a bribery scandal. Didn't work: I took the bribe and bragged about it to the news. That bribe? 2005 Dodge Neon, with an un-torn drivers' seat and only about 180,000 km on the odometer. Mint. They did their homework. The problem was that I now had a fancy new car, which I had effectively stolen from rich people, but I didn't want to look rich, so I didn't drive it to work.

The problem is that I slowly became paranoid. As with my forebear, I lost touch with the common man. I began to fear that they were going to steal my Neon – my retirement fund – while I was at City Hall, doing stupid mayor stuff. Soon, I lost focus on my work, and I slipped in the polls. There was only one thing left to do: stop coming to work for a few weeks and don't answer the phone. Works every time!

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

How do you feel about the idea that Azula would've been a good Firelord before her mental breakdown? I won't name anyone, but there has been a few fics that depicted Azula as a legalist who would enforce bureaucracy and government structure, including busting corruption and reforming the FN's legal system.

Honestly though, I personally interprete Azula as highly emotional (even though she is very intelligent and calculating, she also has a lot of anger and pride) and uncaring of her people, so she likely wouldn't have bothered. As Firelord, she would've been the highest authority anyway and who cares about fair legal systems when she gets to execute idiots she doesn't like while wrecking shit in the Earth Kingdom? Azula loves power, but I think she wouldn't love ruling. Pre-breakdown Azula's ideal place was by her father's right hand

Pre-redemption Azula would be as good of a ruler as any imperialist can be, aka not that good.

But let me start off by saying: Azula doesn't execute people for shits and giggles and she surpresses the fuck out of her emotions because she desperately wants to pretend she doesn't have any. That is not to say she's a kind, compassionate soul that would NEVER take advantage of the fact that she's so much more powerful than anyone else, but still, these are her consistent character traits.

We have very few scenes of her showing any emotion openly (most being during her breakdown, aka when she was too mentally exhausted to fight them), she canonically only ever killed ONE person (who came back to life), and we literally see her stopping a torture session. Even when she was completely out of control, she banished instead of executing people that she believed were conspiring to kill her, and only attacked Zuko and Katara, who were enemies not only of her but of her entire nation and explicitly said they were about to steal her crown.

She's cruel, but not that cruel, anything else is out of character fanon. The most she'd do is threaten people with the fact that she has the power to get away with doing ANYTHING them, because she genuinely believes that fear is the only way to ensure loyalty.

Azula is all about order (girl gets mad that she was firebending with one hair out of place) and, much like Zuko, she's a patriot - but her definition of patriotism is very different from his. She had little interest in the human element of it all or in the notion that duty it'd be her duty to take care of anyone. She's all about the glory, the legacy, the conquest, the battles won, and the Fire Nation being seen as inherently superior.

For exemple, if she had been in the war meeting that led to Zuko's banishment, she might have also had an issue with that general's plan of using Fire Nation soldiers as bait because they're "fresh meat." Not because she'd see it as a betrayal of their trust and a horrible crime against innocents, but because it's a waste of resources. It's stupid to knowingly let competent, loyal soldiers die just to avoid coming up with a different strategies that maximizes enemie losses while keeping yours as low as possible. And obviously she wouldn't have brought up that concern out of turn and in anyway that could be seen as challenging Ozai.

Basically, if there was a famine, a plague, a tsunami or anything that means only losses for the country, you can bet Azula will try to remedy the situation. She needs people in her army, as her servants, growing the crops, etc. Human life is not THAT disposable to her. But if a fishing village is dying because, to make all their weapons, the Fire Nation is creating a problem of polution? Well, too bad for them, they can they there and die or try their luck and move elsewhere, weapons for the army are more important than one village filled with nobodies.

And if some soldier dies, you can expect she'll okay with the family and fellow men honoring him because glory of battle and all, but don't expect her to actually care. She won't send them to a doomed battle, but she's perfectly at peace with the fact that not all of the soldiers going into battle will ever return. And she will NOT be happy if someone pulls an Iroh and "falls apart" after a person loss.

And obviously, only the people of HER nation sometimes get her "pragmatic compassion" so to speak. The colonies? Forget it. They're inferior beings that barely count as people. Again, Azula wouldn't be ordering her army to commit attrocities for her amusement, but don't expect her to give a shit if they imprison or kill people who are resisting too much, or to see literal genocide as bad - she canonically doesn't care.

There'd also be no valluing of nature and/or the spirits, which is a very, very, VERY bad idea in the long-run. Angry pandas kidnaping people, folks getting sick, all that unpleasant stuff - and that's still the best case scenario because I believe Azula wouldn't pull a Zhao and try to kill the fucking moon and anger the ocean when she lives in an archipelago.

Azula's reign would be ruthless, but functional... for some time. Sooner or later the disregard for human life, both in the Fire Nation and especially the colonies, would mean revolt and a colapsing system. Maybe it'd happen during her lifetime, maybe it'd happen decades or centuries after her death, but still, her actions would heavily tied to it regardless of if she was around to face the consequences.

As to whether she even wanted power at all, the show made it quite clear that she did - but there was ONE thing that she wanted even more than she wanted the crown, and that was love and genuine human connection, hence her being super devoted to her dad and basically giving Zuko the crown twice (by bringing him home in Crossroads of Destiny and by looking out for him in The Headband instead of letting Ozai find out about his visits to Iroh). The fact either the dad that strongly favored her or the brother that she felt she could easily manipulate being the ones in power also meant power for her was a nice bonus.

That's why in my headcanons for what a redeemed Azula would be like, she usually ends up as Zuko's advisor and wife. She'd deal with all the bureaucracy Zuko has no patience for and he'd remind her that a ruler can only be truly good if they're compassion. Plus, hey, if he didn't have to give up his ambition for the crown even after redemption, why can't Azula be redeemed AND achieve her goal of being the Fire Lord's second in command/favorite person due to how loyal she is, only this time for a Fire Lord that would actually care about her?

[ikeromantic]

Distance

A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 3000 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 14 of the main route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 14 of a series.

Chapter List

Chevalier glared at the report as if his icy disdain might change the words there. 

“It’s an uprising in your own lands. Embarrassing, isn’t it?” Clavis almost seemed gleeful. “They’ve taken the border fort and set up blockades on the road. The villagers are supplying them with food and other resources.”

“Shut up.” Everything Clavis said was already clear on the page. He didn’t need to hear it spoken aloud. 

Clavis smiled thinly. “What are you going to do?”

“What I must.” Chevalier stood. “Make the arrangements.” 

“Already done.” 

Chev nodded. His brother was efficient at least. He left without another word, though his thoughts strayed. Emma.

His soldiers met him at the palace gates, their gazes as hard and cold as his own. They understood what would be needed. He gave them a grim smile. “We have a fort to retake.”

Another troop might have shouted with false bravado at his command, but not his men. There was no joy to be taken from this battle. Only duty. They saluted, silent as the grave, and then followed Chevalier as he rode through the dark streets toward the northwestern territories. His lands, his people. His fight.

He glanced back at the palace just once. Was she asleep? Was she dreaming? Chevalier felt an odd ache in his chest at the thought of not seeing her in the days ahead. But the Belle had no place on a battlefield. He did not want her to see . . . Chev shook off the foolish thought, the memory of her gazing at him in fear. Her wide eyes and tear soaked lashes. 

No.

There was bloody work to be done, and the opinions of one naive girl could not - would not - change that. It did not matter if the Belle saw the Brutal Beast or no. There was no place in duty for such considerations. And if it made her fear him again, well, perhaps that was for the best. He cloaked his heart with ice and rode on.

The village was in chaos when the knights arrived. Desperate attempts to fortify it against the inland road clashed with loyalists trying to dismantle the same barriers. The fort itself sat in the distance, all gates closed and barred. 

Chevalier knew Black would try to negotiate. Talk them down. Take weeks, perhaps months to determine who the guilty parties were. And such gentle tactics would leave traitors seeded in the midst of the citizens, cowards as well, waiting for the next moment a betrayal would be to their advantage. He would brook no such delays, nor imperfect results. 

“First secure the village,” he called. His knights slammed fist to shield and then split off into their separate companies, each led by a handpicked commander. Chev’s personal guards stayed close to him as he rode into the fray. 

As expected, the commoners put up little real fight. When presented with a professional soldier in opposition, most surrendered. Others tried to fight back, organizing badly equipped sorties. Those died fighting, their efforts more nuisance than dangerous. The real battle was with the traitor soldiers. Some hid in the houses, attacking when the knights least expected it. Chevalier’s troops spent days clearing the village building by building. Days of bloodshed and misery. 

Attempts to negotiate were met with failure. The traitors seemed to have no unified demands. Mostly, they were just angry. Angry at the sacrifices they’d made for their country. The loss of loved ones, dreams of hearth and family fading as duty claimed their youth, living through the pain of past wounds. An ache in their hearts that turned to poison. And the second prince had an idea of how deep that poison went.

Chevalier faced it with the unshakeable certainty that he was protecting Rhodolite. His life, the lives of his knights, and the life of any villager were forfeit to the greater good. Even if sometimes it was hard to hold to that vision when covered in the blood and filth of a battlefield. The peaceful future he worked toward felt distant and impossible. 

Grim resolve kept him advancing. The knowledge that any other action would only lead to more death and despair. But, he found an odd thought filling his mind in the midst of the chaos. Emma. Her gentle smile and playful gaze. The kindness in her, and the strength of her heart. 

Foolish. What was the value of one woman’s life that it should settle his soul in the midst of this slaughter? And yet. He did not chase her from his thoughts. 

Support arrived from the capitol just as the fortress broke. The traitors spilled from the gates, hungry and desperate. Chevalier’s knights met them just outside the village in another wave of carnage. The slaughter was less one-sided this time, as their enemies were well equipped. Professional soldiers with arms and armor, fighting with all the determination of cornered rats. 

The village would be in the Clown’s deft hands, leaving Chevalier free to focus on what mattered. He gazed out at the battle, the fort, and the border beyond. At the edge of the fighting, he noticed a familiar mop of unruly red hair. Jumbo. Why had he stirred himself to - “Oh.” The sound left him in a sudden exhalation. An irrational response he tamped down with a grimace.

“Stay here.” He motioned to the knights at his side as he rode toward his youngest brother. Jumbo stood beside the Belle, his usual lackadaisical smile missing. Chevalier scowled. He could not imagine what madness infected his brothers. To bring the Belle here, to a dangerous place. Her life - her duty  - was at risk. And while he cursed the Clown and Four Eyes for allowing this, he also cursed himself. This was a possibility he should have anticipated. 

“What are you doing in a place like this,” he growled. Chevalier dismounted with a leap and strode toward the two. 

The Belle was staring at him, he realized. Her eyes were wide with horror and disgust. Blood soaked the hem of her skirt and stained her hands and the slip of paper she clutched in them. 

It took Chevalier a moment to realize there was a body at her feet. A knight. And not just any of his troops. The fallen man was one of his scouts. “Ah . . . so he is dead.” He took the scrap of bloodied paper from Emma’s hand, knowing it was for this that his scout died. “He seems to have been of some use.”

Emma’s expression crumpled as if she were about to cry. She didn’t understand what he meant - that this death had meaning and purpose. That this knight served a greater good, and this sacrifice mattered. She only heard the cold, flat tone of Chev’s voice. But she didn’t cry. Her jaw firmed and she looked the prince right in the eye. “This man was one of your knights, wasn’t he?”

“Indeed.” Chevalier watched her, curious whether or not she could see the death as he did. Or if she would fall to simple emotion.

“Th-then -”

“Don’t bother saying something foolish, like ‘You should mourn the dead’.” Chevalier interrupted. Grief was a pointless emotion. It could not return the dead to you, nor ease the sense of loss. What mattered was ensuring the death meant something. That this loss, and the loss of every soldier that died in this action, protected Rhodolite.

“I . . . I . . .” The Belle stammered, uncertainty taking the words from her lips.

Chevalier gripped the bloodied paper, his knuckles white beneath his gloves. “I have no use for the dead. And once someone is no longer useful, that is that.” 

Her eyes widened further, conflict playing out in her horrified expression. Emma’s mouth opened once. Twice. The third time, she managed to speak, her voice cracking under the weight of the tears she refused to shed. “Don’t you have a shred of humanity in your heart?”

Part of him wanted to reassure her, but that would be a lie. An unnecessary lie. It was better for her to understand what he was. A man that forsook his own heart, the right to his own feelings, and replaced them with the logic and reason needed to protect the country. Not individuals, as no one man or woman was Rhodolite. But the whole. He could not allow himself to mourn one dead man. Nor even a hundred. “I have no need of such a thing,” Chevalier replied with an icy calm.

Jumbo watched, his mouth pressed to a grimace of disapproval. Something hard and angry glinted in his gaze. 

“Take the simpleton and go home at once.” Chevalier gave the order without shifting his gaze from the Belle. She wilted, her shoulders falling. Soon she would cry, he thought. He finally looked up at the red head. “If you want to join the mountain of corpses, that’s a different story.” 

“Chevalier. You . . .” Jumbo’s fists clenched at his sides. 

Chev didn’t wait to see if his warning hit home nor whether his orders were followed. After this, she would leave. She had to. There was no reason for her to stay. He mounted his horse and rode back to the battle. This little detour took him long enough, though at least he’d gathered the report his scout brought in. He ignored the feel of the Belle’s eyes on his back, the hurt betrayal in their depths. She would fear him now.

His chest tightened at the thought and Chevalier snorted, mocking himself. He was no lovestruck princeling. If he felt anything in this moment, it was only the strain of battle and the need to quickly end this fight with the anti-war faction before it brought greater consequences. A truth, if not the whole truth. 

Pacifying the traitors in the fortress took days. The turn-coat soldiers fought well, but in the end, they could not stand against the Brutal Beast’s relentless assault. Days of violence, surrounded by blood and death. Chevalier felt no pride in the final moments of victory. The outcome was inevitable, delayed only by the number of bodies willing to throw themselves upon his blade. 

He was exhausted, though it did not show.

Chevalier left his camp, eager for a moment alone. The cool evening breeze was a welcome respite. There was a small lake nearby, and at this hour it would be empty and peaceful. It was there that he turned his steps. As Chev crested a small rise, the lake spread out before him. The water was still, and in it he could see the reflected glory of the sunset. But he wasn’t alone. A small figure knelt on the rocky shore. One he regarded with a certain degree of incredulity. She was supposed to be gone. Home. Safe.

His eyes traced the curve of her neck, the sweep of her hair. That little stubborn piece that always escaped her bun hung now beside her ear, brushing the slope of her shoulder. Chevalier walked slowly, letting himself savor her presence before she noticed him. He knew she would be angry, her eyes accusing.. The Belle was supposed to see into the hearts of men, and he hoped she might see . . .

Perhaps that was the problem though. He was a beast without a heart. The useless organ discarded for his duty. The Belle could not read a page that was not there, no matter how clearly she saw. 

“You’re very likely to be attacked if you wander alone in a place like this,” he said, finally drawing her attention to him. 

She didn’t look up from her handwashing. Blood stained her cuffs, rolled to the elbows as they were. “Prince Chevalier. Why are you -”

“Just taking a little breather,” he admitted. His gaze drifted to her partially submerged hands. A jagged cut marred her skin, seeping blood into the cool lake waters. Chev reached for her over her squawk of surprise. He pulled her arm close enough to evaluate the wound. “You’re hurt. Did a patient scratch you?”

“No!” The Belle jerked her arm away from him with such violence that he didn’t consider trying to keep his grip on her. She was trembling, he realized. 

A heavy weight pressed in on him as he held her gaze. “I was only examining the wound.” The explanation felt flat, pointless. Chevalier could still see the fear and revulsion in her eyes. A cloud of pain and anger over their clear depths. 

“I’m sorry . . .” Her breath was shallow, her words barely audible.

“That’s why I told you.” He paused and took a steadying breath. A familiar coldness settled over him. “I’m not a decent human being. I am the Brutal Beast.” Chev saw the way her fingers curled into white-knuckled fists at her sides. “If you’re afraid, then run away. You don’t need to force yourself to be in my presence.” 

For a moment, it seemed she would run. Her muscles tensed, a slight turn in her posture. And then she went still as her eyes filled with tears. Unable to hold back any longer, they slid wetly down her cheeks. 

“You’re an eyesore.” He sighed, irritation creeping into his tone. She should have run. It would be better for her. But instead, she stood there weeping. For what? “It makes me want to give you something to really cry about.” 

The Belle didn’t reply. Her hands shook as she wiped at the streaks on her face. 

Chevalier searched for something to say, but he had no comfort to give. There was only the numbing cold inside him. And that pressure in his chest. He felt as if he could not breathe. Chev turned and walked away. 

His steps led him to his tent, where he lay down on the uncomfortable cot. He could hear the sounds of his knights as they chatted beside their campfires. A quiet murmur, the crackle of the flames. Chevalier closed his eyes but he could not sleep. Emma surely hated him now. She understood what he was. Saw with her own eyes his unforgivable nature. Her tear-streaked face settled behind his eyelids.

Chevalier sat up and lit his lamp. A book would distract him. He pulled a book from his pack. The words washed over him, the characters taking life in the lines. But the unfolding drama of the enemies to lovers tale slipped away from him as his mind kept returning to Emma. He cursed himself for the foolishness of it. 

After several attempts at distraction, Chev finally got up. He decided he would go check on her. Because of her injury. Which was surely why she haunted his thoughts. She was too much a fool to care for herself and he . . . he needed to make sure the Belle was safe and healthy. His duty, as a prince. The rationale was solid, even if he didn’t fully believe it. 

Emma was settled in a village home for the night. Chevalier found her easily enough, the guards lounging outside her door were an easy giveaway. He nodded to them as he let himself in. A low fire burned in the kitchen hearth, giving the inside a dim red glow. He stepped into the open bedroom, his wintery gaze fixed on the bed along the far wall.

He could see her figure in the tangle of sheets, tossing and turning. Sweat-soaked and grimacing in the grip of nightmares, her sleep less than restful. Chevalier crossed the space with silent steps and knelt beside her bed. He took her arm with a careful grip, his touch gentle as he rolled up her nightgown sleeve. “As I expected. You didn’t even treat it.”

The jagged red wounds ran down her forearm, already swollen and warm to the touch. He took wound salve and bandages from his pocket. Chevalier didn’t note the small smile that lifted the corners of his lips as he applied the medicine with a tender touch and then bandaged her. 

“N-no! Don’t . . . touch . . . me . . .” Emma cried out in her sleep. 

The words hit Chev like a slap. He tied off the bandage and let go of her. Though he could not know what she dreamed of, he could well imagine. Sweat beaded her brow, her expression twisted with dismay as he watched in silence. Another heavy sigh left him. “You really are foolish.” 

He wasn’t sure if those words were meant for her, or for himself. Chevalier took her hand in his, unsure what to do. In books, the charming prince would kiss away the nightmare. But he was no charming prince. He gave her hand a squeeze, hoping the slight pressure would calm her. It seemed to, as her expression relaxed again.

“You wouldn’t be having nightmares if you hadn’t come to the battlefield.” 

Emma slept on, oblivious to his lecture. 

Chevalier said nothing more as he held her hand. He kept ahold of her until he was sure her night terror had passed. She was still, her breathing even. Chev carefully prised his hand from hers and tenderly stroked a hand through her hair. 

He wished . . . but wishes were meaningless. The prince left, closing the door quietly behind him.

“You’re sure kind to the Belle.” Clavis’ voice was teasing, his golden gaze full of barely leashed laughter. He raised an eyebrow, his smile widening as he glanced between the closed door and his brother. “Well well. What’s the meaning of this, hm?”

Chev regarded the third prince with icy disdain. “Not everything has to have meaning.”

Clavis nodded slowly as if thinking it over. “All right. Perhaps I misspoke. I thought surely you would have a reason though.” 

“There is not.” Chevalier hoped this would be the end of it, but with Clavis . . . A moment of silence passed between them. “You are the one who treated her wound.”

A pale brow rose. “Oh? Is that the story we’re telling then?”

It was clear Clavis would not go along with this without explanation. Chev felt his jaw clench and then he sighed. This was not a battle worth fighting. “I’m well aware that my actions are nonsensical.” He held his brother’s gaze, willing him to accept this vague answer.

Clavis stared at him, his smile faltering for a heartbeat. Something akin to surprise flickered in his eyes.

A slight dip of his chin was all the confirmation Chevalier needed to turn and leave. He didn’t want to say more. Not to himself, much less to his brother. He needed to escape that knowing smirk. He needed distance. His steps were quick, graceful. Out into the dark and quiet night. 

[just-a-strange-boy]

riding high

find part one here

Initially you hadn't wanted to go to this silly gala with Stephen. After turning out it hasn't been such a bad idea to join him after all, you find yourself being rewarded greatly.

Pairing: Surgeon!Stephen Strange x Male Reader

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), rough sex, semi-public (kind of), unprotected, mentions of social anxiety

A/N: we follow stephen and you, his surgical assistant, figuring out the logistics of fucking in a lamborghini huracan (which is harder than you might think)

"Come to that gala with me", Strange requested, both of you fresh out of an unspectacular surgery, shedding the contaminated layers of hospital wear into the nearby laundry bin, in desperate need of slipping into a pair of new scrubs.

Today wasn't the first time he approached you about it.

He had been nagging you about this for a while now – ever since he had first received the invitation to said event weeks ago – and still wasn't letting it rest, even though you had repeatedly told him off, suggesting that he should just ask Christine instead of you. It wouldn't be an issue if he'd just take her. She'd probably even agree to it, because she was your mutual friend.

But Stephen wouldn't let it go, his stubbornness and persistence reaching heights you hadn't expected from him, unwavering in his relentless insistence, unable to accept your 'No', refusing to ask Christine or anyone that wasn't you.

He just wouldn't stop asking, relying on the same explanation every time: you were the only one he wanted to go with.

So there you were again, with the same dilemma and question between you as before.

Only because you denied his offer times and times again, didn't mean you did not want to go. You would have loved to go with the surgeon. It was flattering that he was inviting you along, that he did not want to choose anyone that wasn't you, that he was so insistent on it. It was Stephen's way of showing you that you were important to him, even if it was beginning to be a little obnoxious.

Though he was admittedly better at this whole dating thing than you would have thought.

Stephen was keen on having date nights, when you both could make the time, and even when your schedules were all over the place, obnoxiously full, he tried to shove in a moment for you, may it just be a trip to the vending machines of the ER late at night or going for a coffee in the cafeteria.

The few times you'd managed to go out together, Stephen was unafraid of displaying affection publicly, holding your hand every now and then. He didn't keep your status secretive, unashamed that he was dating a surgical assistant. Whenever staff members, relatives of patients or even patients themselves made advances on him, Stephen was making it clear he was unavailable.

On top of that, you were having amazing sex, at home and a little more often than allowed at the hospital. You were certain at least ten people from the staff had almost had the pleasure of walking in on you, while two of your closer colleagues most definitely had found you in promising positions. There hadn't been a complaint filed to the board yet and you wanted to keep it that way, but something was just so thrilling about abusing Stephen's office, the locker rooms or like that one time, the operating table itself.

But regardless of how unashamed both Stephen and you were admitting to your relationship status, regardless how much you would have liked to go with him, you kept denying the invitation for a very specific reason.

You were scared.

It was an entirely different thing to be seen with Doctor Stephen Strange in the public eye at an event of such importance. A proper gala, with important figures present, people that were either significant in the medical world or held high positions all around the country, people that earned a lot of money and spent their resources on expensive shit, more people on the same level as Stephen.

There would be reporters, cameras – and no doubt a shit-ton of people that would judge a renowned surgeon for not showing up with a pretty lady on his arm but with someone like you, who was in fact nothing like a pretty lady. Because you were ordinary, and on top of that a man.

You didn't even know why you cared about Stephen's reputation so much all of the sudden, but you were afraid of putting shame to his name, to his status, to his face.

"You know I can't go with you", you sighed, preparing to give him the usual response, "I know it's tomorrow night already and chances of getting someone else to join you now will be... relatively low, that's why I've told you to ask anyone but me. I know it's important for you to be there, but you cannot take me there as your date. It would be wrong for me to be there. As I have told you at least ten times."

“I don't understand why you don't wanna come", Stephen spoke, adding your name so softly like hearing it alone was enough to convince you, and he sounded a little more desperate than before. Still not giving up though. "It'll be nice. Come on. I'll owe you."

"Because, Stephen, they will probably just judge me for being there. I mean, showing up with you? Infamous, handsome, top neurosurgeon Stephen Strange. What did I do to possibly deserve being seen with you?", you responded with a huff, certain that everyone at that gala would just look upon you with a frown – you were neither a wealthy doctor nor a flashy person suited for the public eye, just a plain surgical assistant, someone who didn't fit in with the high society.

Of course, some of your fear stemmed from being gay too. You doubted most people even knew that Stephen Strange was bisexual, let alone that he was actively pursuing something with a younger man.

What if that would land in some trashy magazine? You would rather not turn into a hot topic for a newspaper article, and sure as hell did not want to be the reason for outing Stephen publicly.

"Who cares about what they think? I want you there and that's good enough", the doctor spoke, the look on his face oddly soft, taking a closer step to you as he noticed your self-consciousness gnawing on you, "We'll drive there, exchange some pleasantries, listen to the speeches. I'll give my speech, we'll have dinner, then some people will probably introduce their research projects, and the rest will be social mingling, which is however optional. We can leave at any point by then."

"What if you'll be... what if people will talk about you negatively? Me being there with you? I'm not exactly some pretty girl to show off", you asked, wanting to avoid having this conversation, especially now that Stephen was being even more stubborn, most certainly as you were noticing you were closer to giving in.

The only saving grace was that you would have to get going in a bit to prepare the room and tools for the next surgery.

"Don't tell me you've started caring about my reputation now", Stephen scoffed, grabbing you by the waist to pull you in, placing a soft kiss to your forehead, "It doesn't matter, idiot. I want you there and I can come with whoever I fucking want. I don't care what anyone else thinks. I'll be happy to show you off, because I bet you look great in a suit and I can count myself lucky for being accompanied by someone who truly sees me for me.”

"Great, you're making me all soft again", you sighed, clearly affected by the sweet words Stephen was feeding him right now, leaning into his embrace to lay your head against his shoulder, "Even if I'm gonna go with you, how am I even supposed to get a suit until tomorrow?"

"Does that mean you'll come?", Stephen murmured, pressing his face into your hair. You couldn't ignore the sudden glee radiating from him at your last comment and felt him relax his hold around you.

"Yeah, fine. I'll join you", you agreed hesitantly, holding onto the man for a moment longer. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad as long as Stephen was with you. It was assuring to know he didn't mind showing you off, didn't mind being seen with another man, didn't care so much about others opinions. Nothing else seemed to matter, if it just meant he could be there with you.

He'd been holding onto this request for so long now and had never stopped trying (mostly also because his ego wouldn't accept defeat), that you figured you could do him the favor. You were interested in going with him after all and even though there were things you were worried about, Stephen at your side would give you the assurance and comfort you needed.

"Then let me worry about getting you a suit", the doctor assured you.

Once he parted from you, you saw the broad smile on Stephen's face and decided it had been a good decision to agree after all.

×

It will be fine, was the mantra you kept repeating inside of your head.

Usually you would have felt insecure about showing up anywhere in a suit, an expensive one at that (it really had cost a fortune, even though not specifically tailored to your body), but Stephen had made it his personal mission to point out how handsome you looked ever since seeing you in it for the first time.

You almost dared to believe him.

Though Christine had said so too while she had helped you getting ready for the big occasion, like the good friend she was. Initially, she had been surprised by your sudden change of heart, now that you had agreed to join Stephen as a plus one to the gala after refusing him again and again. But then she had just expressed how genuinely happy she was about you jumping over your own shadow, a certain excitement sticking to her.

You honestly weren't sure who she was truly happier for. You, for having stepped out of your shell and decided to go with the surgeon? Or for Stephen, being able to go with the one person he had wanted to join him from the very beginning?

Or perhaps she was just happy for herself, not having to endure both of her insufferable friends talking about this subject anymore.

Maybe she'd been right too. Everything would be fine.

So far, it was – you looked quite presentable in your suit and were just now casually chatting with Stephen as the man sped over the highway leading upstate.

Yet there was this tiny bit of anxiety you couldn't seem to get rid of, probably feeling a lot more nervous than the surgeon, which made him feel ridiculous all the same.

Stephen would have had a far better reason for being nervous (though not seeming fazed in the slightest), since he was supposed to give a speech this evening – all you had to do was smile, be a supportive partner, and not crumble under the amount of skeptical looks crossing your way. Oh, and maybe not embarrass yourself or him publicly.

"It will be fine", Stephen tried to reassure you once more, noticing you nervously shifting in your seat, and placed his right hand on your thigh, eyes fixed on the road. He was trying to keep you grounded with his touch, knowing that while you had nerves of steel in the OR, you could get a bit anxious outside of work for the most ridiculous reasons. "You know I will read anyone to filth who dares to speak a wrong word or shares a dirty look."

"Oh, aren't you just my knight in shining armor", you spoke, attempting to make a joke in order to seem a little more careless about the situation, though you couldn't play your own nervousness down entirely. You couldn't fool him at least.

Stephen kept his hand placed on your thigh, gently caressing it for a moment, and decelerated the car, driving a little slower than he had probably been planning to, allowing the two of you a bit more time in the safe space of the car.

You were still busy trying to convince yourself that it would be fine as Stephen pulled into the parking lot of the convention center.

The sheer amount of cars already present, but especially the flock of people waiting upfront at the entrance, made you want to turn back home immediately. There was a part of you that was wanting to lock yourself inside of the car and wait out the event.

But you didn't dare to disappoint him now, you wanted to do this for him, and let yourself be helped out of the car by him, instead of bolting the doors shut when you good. Stephen offered you his arm like a true gentleman, giving you another assuring and gentle smile. Not flashy, like he would no doubt give the cameras later. Genuine. Sweet. The type that meant to say Don't worry, I got you.

The anxiety followed you all the way towards the entrance, where the two of you merged with other groups of people waiting to get inside, meaning the first few were going to catch a look and pictures were going to be taken and...

It honestly was a mystery to you how Stephen's presence alone enabled you to stay sane enough to go through all of it without freaking out entirely, but it did.

If people talked, they luckily did so out of earshot. If they looked funnily at you, you didn't really notice, because instead of nervously looking around, you tried to keep your gaze fixed on Stephen. If they were judging your person, they were going to do so anyways and he had been right to tell you that it was something that simply shouldn't concern you.

Stephen wanted you here and was more than proud to show you off.

It all went over smoother than you had expected and you began warming up to the situation, once inside. Stephen went on to introduced you – as his partner, no less – to some important people here, people he was more or less acquainted with, people he had worked or collaborated with. They seemed ecstatic he had showed up and even more so curious who he had brought with him.

The most of them took well to you, seemingly not all too biased when it came to your person, and even though there were strange looks once in a while, the majority of people you talked to were delighted about the fact that the OR wasn't only a place to save lives but apparently also served as a place to get to know your potential partners.

There was not one disapproving word spoken to you.

You had been seated at a table with rather nice guests and listening to the speeches, covering a wide expense of medical subjects that even you found pretty interesting, kept your mind busy for the most part, blowing the anxiety away altogether.

Only struck by nervousness again when it was Stephen's time to get on stage, more so because you were nervous for him, soon the irking feeling of discomfort was replaced by something else, something far better.

You found yourself immensely proud, once Stephen got up to do his part. How enamored you were with him, making his way through the crowd, his graceful movements, looking so damn handsome in his suit, the light hitting him just right. How exhilarated you were, knowing he had been so keen on having you here, because your support was meaningful to him.

There was no need to be nervous for him. You shouldn't have been surprised by the way he dominated the stage – Stephen had guts and he loved to talk (about himself as much as neurosurgery, no doubt) and didn't seem intimidated by the mass of people at all. He landed a well-rehearsed speech with an impressive amount of applause, looking all relieved, and more so pleased with himself, once returning to the table.

"You were great", you commended him, beaming at him with a smile.

"Thank you for being here with me", Stephen just said after sitting down, leaning over for a quick kiss, "Really. I mean it."

And you were more than lucky to hear that. Had you known your presence was going to be so impacting, that it would be as calm and nice at this, that all your worries had been misplaced (though not unjustified), maybe you were wrong to deny his request in the first place.

Perhaps you could even get used to a life like this, showing up with Doctor Stephen Strange to all kinds of events, because you were proud to be with him as much as he was happy to have you by his side.

Dinner was a fairly pleasant occasion too, a distraction preventing you to fawn and moon over Stephen all evening long – though honestly, who could have blamed you? You chatted quite a bit with your table neighbors as Stephen kept inviting you back into the conversation, not wanting you to feel left out, although you would have not minded to not participate.

While Stephen didn't drink anything alcoholic (the complimentary glass of champagne didn't really count), you weren't so abstinent, having been offered generous amounts of alcohol during the duration of the evening, downing at least three glasses of wine and a cocktail before deciding to stop when you felt yourself positively buzzed.

You were warm, almost getting a little too heated, not just thanks to the alcoholic beverages, but due to Stephen's hand managing to find your thigh under the table, squeezing it lightly, possibly meant as an innocent reassurance that he was still here and it was still alright. Though you definitely couldn't ignore the fact something else entirely was awakened within you as his touch burned into your leg.

Needless to say, by the time doctors and medical students from all over the country started to introduce their research projects on stage, you were more than a little turned on, downright horny. It was harder and harder for you to keep listening with a mindful ear, while Stephen for his part was enjoying himself and seemed interested, though his hand was being busy otherwise.

Your eyes glanced more often over to him than to the stage, your mind focusing more on the touch than on the content that was presented. While it might have been interesting and worth listening to, all that you were concerned about was to keep yourself contained and not lose any composure.

As much as feeling each other up in public spaces, just for the sake of it being considered forbidden, gave you a thrill, it was okay when Stephen did so at the hospital, but not here. Not in the presence all those people, at an event like this.

You weren't even sure whether Stephen was teasing on purpose, stroking your thigh, fingers kneading the muscle, tracing the inseam of your trousers, or simply wanted to accomplish that you were relaxing more.

Because you definitely were far from relaxing right now. The lingering touch made you shift uncomfortably in your seat, you tried to play down your arousal by focusing on anything but Stephen's hand on you and desperately hoped your cock wouldn't decide to embarrass you publicly all of the sudden.

"Everything alright?", Stephen muttered under your breath when he noticed the agitated squirming. He sounded seriously concerned, not like he had been planning on teasing or arousing you for that matter. God, he was entirely oblivious.

"Are you feeling unwell? Do you wanna go home?"

You leaned towards him to whisper into his ear, making sure to talk as quietly as you could, seeming like you didn't want to disturb the others listening to the speech, when you really just wanted to word your current desire.

"I don't know if we will get that far, because I really need you to fuck me."

Clearly you had caught Stephen a little off guard with that comment, who was nervously looking around instantly, hoping that no one had heard or guessed.

The surgeon cleared his throat, before replying calmly, "Then I think we should leave after that presentation.”

And you sure did, the two of you taking your leave quicker than anyone could really notice, excusing yourself to your table neighbors, before hurrying out of the main hall, practically rushing past the staff of this place, the photographers and journalists still looming outside – though luckily, having seen no flashes meant that no pictures had been taken. That sure would have made quite the subject.

He got you both settled in the car in a hurry, revving the engine, before pulling out of the parking lot and starting to speed off instantly. You quickly noticed that you weren't taking the same route you had used earlier, when Stephen didn't direct the car onto the highway back to New York.

"Are you gonna make the route extra long in order to tease me?", you wondered.

"No, it won't be much longer", the surgeon assured you, checking side and rear mirrors, all while seemingly searching for something off road.

"Then why aren't we heading home?", you asked, oddly suspicious.

If you hadn't known any better, you might have feared Stephen was going to dispose of you somewhere along the way in the middle of the night. Why else would he choose an abandoned road?

But then the man's hand landed on your thigh again, his long and skilled fingers tracing the inner side, down to the bend of the knee and up to your crotch, all while keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

"Because you said we're not going to get as far as home and I'm only taking you by word", he chuckled, only gently pressing his hand to where your cock stirred in your trousers, placing a turn signal as he steered the car into another path off-road, where seemingly, in the middle of the night, nothing and no one would disturb the two of you.

Parking his car on the gravelly path you had ended up on, far off the road where other cars might still pass at that time of night, you knew exactly what he was proposing. He was planning to fuck you out here, in his car, right now.

It wasn't something you had ever done before, but by the way your heart consequently hammered and your groin was practically on fire, you sure weren't going to pass on that opportunity.

Unbuckling your seat belts all too quickly, you met over the middle console, searching for each others mouths and finding what you both sought as your lips clashed together. Kissing Stephen always meant wanting more and more. He was addictive, everything from the soft curve of his lips to his eager tongue slipping into your mouth, the bruise of his bite and the fact that he had a tendency to smirk while kissing you hard.

However getting to the point of sex appeared a little difficult than initially thought.

While the Huracán Stephen drove was a wonderfully sleek car (and definitely a match to Stephen's ego), it was set very low and not spacious by any means. Even just trying to climb onto Stephen's lap would have been hard, let alone riding him without constantly banging your head on the car's ceiling.

Sucking him off would have been convenient and was definitely something you would have been tempted to do any other day, but today it was just not enough.

You needed to have him inside of you.

Perhaps Stephen could have just bent you over the hood. It wasn't too cold outside, but the idea still didn't sound particularly comfortable. There was no backseat area and the front seats wouldn't shift back far enough without you having to twist and turn into uncomfortable positions to get Stephen's cock inside of you.

No matter how desperate you were for him at this moment, you at least wanted it to be comfortable enough to sink into the pleasure completely and not worry about tearing a muscle.

In conclusion, it might have been a pretty car, but it was terribly inconvenient for having sex and you spend minutes trying to figure it out together, laughing at the ridiculousness of your combined desperation to find a suitable position.

Shifting back and forth in a hurry, trying this and that, clawing at each other with need, your mouths slotting together whenever they could, hurrying out of the car, rounding it, never quite satisfied with the way things were, pressed up to the sleek black car as Stephen kept palming you through your pants, hands opening belts and buttons, revealing more and more skin, then turning and shoving and bending and...

You ended up in a somewhat promising position, taking up most space of the interior, as you knelt on your seat, hands supporting yourself on the driver's seat, bent over the middle console and presenting your ass quite perfectly to Stephen behind you.

Glad you had stripped off pants and underwear somewhere in between, the soft breeze from outside brushed the bare skin of your backside, intensifying the shudder of your need as your partner sure took his time to drive you crazy with lust.

A little more than desperate, hanging over the car's middle console, you pressed your ass back against Stephen, begging to be finally given some release after waiting and aching, while the man was already two fingers in, opening him up with precise movements, because... it was simply not enough.

Your cock was weeping, so achingly hard, asking to be touched to the point where you even reached for it yourself, tending it with long and gentle strokes, all while Stephen took his time preparing you well.

There was no need for conversation.

Your pure desire didn't require words, Stephen knew exactly how to touch you, and wiggling your ass into your lover's touch was a sign that clearly indicated how ready you were for him to fuck you. The occasional grunt and moan was all there was slipping past your lips, the soft puffs of labored breath, running faster with excitement.

Spit and precum smeared over your hole, you finally felt his fingers replaced by the thick tip of his cock nudging at your entrance, drawing out the moment in anticipation to the point he had you whining with his relentless teasing and toying, pushing back into him hard, so Stephen would have no other choice than to give in and sheath himself inside of you.

Being stretched by his cock ached a little at first, but you always managed to adjust, not minding the bit of the initial burn as he filled you up. On the contrary, you craved it, your whole body longing to feel him, here and now and even afterwards.

And god, fucking finally, you were allowed the familiar sensation. Any longer and you would have lost yourself to madness, though the rush of lust overcoming wasn't driving you insane any less.

Stephen allowed you to take a moment, ever so considerate, hands gently trailing along your hips, fingers grazing over the bare skin, an appreciative hum from him that sent a smile to your face – he was enjoying your sudden neediness, the spontaneous sexual adventure of fucking in his car, in the middle of nowhere, both of you looking forward to the satisfaction he was about to bring, fulfilling his own urge to claim you completely.

You liked getting nasty and filthy with Stephen, loved nothing more than being railed by the man all the way to next Sunday, whenever, wherever, might it be in every room of your apartments, in every corner at hospital or like today, outside.

The sex you had was the perfect way to settle arguments, make bad days better and the good days absolutely fantastic.

Though of course, you also found yourself reminded of the connection you two had, not just the physical one. Sure, you loved to have him shove you around, to press you into every available surface and fuck you like you belonged to him only.

But especially the random displays of Stephen's gentleness was the thing that made your heart clench and you figured it might just be love.

Rocking back into him, an evident sign that you were ready to take him in fully and needed more, Stephen got the right drift, the grip on your hips tightening as he began to move. His thrusts were deep at first, slow strokes, not painfully sharp, though more than enough to send waves of pleasure through your body with every single push inside of you.

It didn't even take long, until he had you turned into a moaning mess, clutching onto the seat, unashamed to let the dark and quiet of the night be witness to your lovemaking, letting him hear you, feel you, use you.

If that wasn't the best reward for accompanying Stephen tonight, you didn't know what would be. You didn't care about anything else anymore, no more insecurities, no more of other people's stupid opinions.

All you asked for was for him to keep on fucking you.

The switch up of rhythms caught you by surprise, one moment long and deep thrusts, the next more erratic thrusting, quicker but not as deep, up until the point where he was ferociously fucking you again, every slam of his hips into yours making you jolt and groan.

You continued stroking yourself in time with the man's thrusts, knowing you were not likely lasting that much longer since Stephen had begun hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over again, and were starting to feel yourself tremble with pleasure.

This was only heightened as you noticed the stutter of Stephen's hips, losing any sense of rhythm entirely, losing himself in his thrusts and chasing his own pleasure, using you more than treating you, plowing into you ruthlessly, until he spilled inside of you, painting your insides with a hot and heavy load, even before you could topple over the edge.

Good lord, you counted yourself very lucky for having it that way around – because hearing your partner let out the sweetest moans, letting him ride out his orgasm in a frenzy while you took up all of his cum like a good boy, was the hottest thing. You let yourself fully enjoy the sensation, until you weren't able to hold out any longer.

You came just as hard, grip tight around your cock, clenching around Stephen's member still buried deep inside of you, an earth shattering orgasm hitting you as you felt your own cum shoot all over your hand, no doubt dripping on these sinfully expensive leather car seats as well, but you seriously couldn't find yourself to mind.

Let Stephen worry about it later.

Maybe he'd even punish you for ruining the expensive material and god, wouldn't you just love it? Just the idea of him, demanding you to kneel on the ground, defiled and cockdrunk, as he grabs you by the hair and forces you to eat your cum off his leather seats, licking clean every last spot, sent you into another spiral of lust.

Being with Stephen made you so unashamed. You enjoyed how capable this man was of utterly ruining you. You were glad to be his slut, getting fucked in an expensive car, wearing an expensive suit, after just having been at an important public gala as his date. All prim and proper, now wrecked and ruined and loving every bit of it.

Because you sure did adore it, being like this with Stephen, and would have him anywhere, anyplace, anytime, any way – hopefully for the rest of your lives.

[fandomtrumpshate]

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[spocktheestallion]

why joel was right to save ellie bc i have a lot of opinions and by god i’m gonna share em

so since the show has premiered i’ve seen this debate flare up again and a lot of people saying joel “robbed the world of a cure” when he saved ellie but lets be real, the fireflies were never gonna make that cure.

first off in the original game the hospital and operating room were FILTHY. and yes in the remaster they retconned it to be clean but that just seems silly to me. the fireflies had so little infrastructure that they were wiped out by ONE angry old man in a single night, where are they getting hospital cleaning crews? where are they getting the supplies to properly and i mean PROPERLY sanitize a working OR? more importantly WHO were the medical staff? what were their qualifications? to pull off what they wanted they would’ve needed a team of brilliant scientists specializing in different specific fields and i doubt any of them had been to med school recently. the outbreak was over 20 years old by that point, and medicine is a continually evolving field. those licenses were EXPIRED and even if they had experience during the pandemic it likely would’ve been in field medicine, which is not the same as epidemiology or neuroscience or any of the things they would’ve needed specializing in to get a cure. also the fact that they were saying “we’re gonna make a vaccine!” was another red flag, bc fungal infections aren’t even treated w vaccines. it just goes to show they didn’t know what they were doing. they were just reckless and desperate and ellie would’ve died needlessly.

secondly killing ellie especially right off the bat would make NO sense. what if they find out later on they need a live subject or more samples or whatever? well too late your only subject is dead. why wouldn’t they do blood tests? imaging? or if the cordyceps is only in the brain you can still do a biopsy without killing the person. again, these people didn’t know what they were doing. they were grasping at straws and even if they had gone through with their original plan they probably wouldn’t have been able to synthesize a cure anyway. the sample would’ve expired or been contaminated in the dirty hospital or they would’ve fucked up their sample through ignorance. the whole rushing straight to pulling ellie’s brain out was ridiculous. they would’ve killed a kid needlessly without a second thought.

which brings me to my next point. the fireflies aren’t exactly cut and dry good guys either. i may be reaching w this and i need to rewatch the premiere episode to confirm this but they don’t seem all that picky about their targets and civilians seem to get caught up in them a little too easy. the fireflies aren’t super concerned about human life if it gets in the way of their cause, i mean they were recruiting young kids and giving them weapons just like fedra did. there’s a reason tommy left them high and dry. they’re extremists and they don’t care who they hurt or exploit so long as it serves their cause. they aren’t philanthropists and they FOR SURE would not have been giving out that cure out of the goodness of their hearts. they would’ve gatekept it to themselves and they absolutely would’ve used it as a recruiting tool or political bargaining chip.

but more importantly even in the very unlikely situation they COULD make a successful cure AND mass produce it AND move it cross country which they clearly don’t have the resources for, there’s no way fedra would’ve let them get away with it. their fascist control is all justified in the name of preventing infection, if the disease is no longer a threat that’s a massive blow to fedra’s power. they might’ve been chasing around fireflies for setting off a few car bombs or whatever but if you think fedra isn’t going full extermination mode if they find out the fireflies have a cure you’re kidding yourself. and we’ve clearly established the fireflies would be crushed if they had fedras full attention given that they were pretty much eradicated by one guy in a single night.

and if we’ve learned anything from our own covid pandemic, it’s that if you want to effectively immunize a whole population it needs to be WIDESPREAD. you can’t just treat a few people and call it a day, EVERYONE needs to take the cure or the disease is going to survive and mutate until it can come back in a treatment-resistant variant again and again and again. and after a 20 year outbreak the kind of infrastructure you need to make that happens is gone. it just doesn’t exist anymore. fedra is probably the only group with the level of organization and infrastructure anywhere CLOSE to being able to achieve that kind of feat and i doubt even they could, and even if they could they wouldn’t.

so the fireflies were NEVER gonna be able to make a cure in the first place, they were NEVER gonna be able to mass produce and distribute it, they were NEVER going to be handing it out to anyone they weren’t tight with, and even if they had been well equipped philanthropists who could make a cure and were actually giving it out freely fedra would’ve crushed them immediately.

and i’ve also seen people argue that either way it should’ve been ellie’s choice but i disagree. ellie was a traumatized CHILD with severe survivors guilt. she was not mature enough or in the right headspace to make that kind of decision. JOEL was the closest thing to a legal guardian she had, and it was HIS responsibility to protect her until she was old enough to make decisions like that for herself AND HE DID. a kid should not be allowed to make that choice even if they want to because they’re a KID. also the fireflies weren’t gonna let joel live anyway, i’m pretty sure they were planning to kill him even if he complied.

and ultimately it’s not like joel was considering all this when he made his choice, he saved ellie because he LOVED her. like i’m sure he picked up on some red flags and knew things were sketch and realized the fireflies would probably fail and she’d die for nothing but more than anything he went back bc that was HIS BABY and he wasn’t letting desperate assholes sacrifice her for their cause. “save who you can save” remember? maybe you can’t single handedly change the world or make some miracle cure but you can do what you can for the people you love and maybe that’s enough. maybe you can never make the world go back to the way it was and maybe you SHOULDN’T but you can take it as it is one step at a time and you can do it with the family you’ve made. i think that’s a much better takeaway and i don’t like how the “joel was selfish and did the objectively bad and wrong thing” narrative in tlou2 minimizes that.