#you can say the place you live has its problems without being stupid about it actually

[rigginsstreet]

Sometimes I go online and like a video about North Korea or some other really oppressed country will come up and I make the mistake of reading comments and see people either romanticizing it (???) or you get the real brainiac who’s like “we demonize North Korea but America is the same” and that’s when I realize how fucking stupid everyone is and think we should all just die

[riniworld]

fell into the darkness

yandere!mafia boss oc × hostage! reader

warning|| violence, mention of blood, guns, smoking, and a dead body.

reference|| you.

a/n|| it was supposed to be longer, but I'll split it to two parts.

!! there is no mention of obsession or yandere here, this is only an introduction !!

your life wasn't perfect, you knew that very well, losing your parents when you were young and getting thrown over and over to a different relative searching for acceptance in them,but no one wanted a 'burden' in their family, until you settled with one who doesn't have a family, getting to take care of yourself at such a young age,you accepted your life long ago, but to get to THAT is something to really get concerned about...

because being wanted by a mafia is not normal, and very questionable.

now, sitting on a cold floor, your hands tied behind your back, as you try to get a word from what the men who stands a few feet away from you is saying,some of them were giving you a weird look, like you are a small thing compared to them, and that makes you feel disgusted.

and, in seconds,the room fell silent as a man,in a black suit like all the others,enter, he has a scary aura, but doesn't seem like their boss based on how their body are still relaxed.

he walked to you, his footsteps echoing in the empty room, as he get closer and closer your heart start to beat faster, you try to maintain the uncaring facade, but god you were panicing and it was obvious in your eyes.

he stand in front of you, tall and intimidating, not even bothering to lower his head to look at you, only lowering his eyes, you have alot of questions but you don't know if you're in a good place to utter a word, not that you can speak anyway.

"you must wonder why you're here." his voice was scary,you can describe it as heavy even, it's just remind you how much you're in trouble "you have a debt, since a particular coward ran away, he left the responsibility on you, we couldn't risk you running away as well, so we had to take action quickly."

"a what?"

"a debt"

"i have no knowledge in that and i do not want to, i never took a debt from anyone, you must have taken the wrong person." surprisingly you said all that without your voice breaking.

he hum lowly, it was almost inaudible if you werent really anxious that you were aware of every sound in the room, he reached for something from inside his coat, you tensed up alarmed, but he only take out a file,open it and turn it in your direction.

"do you recognize this man?" it was a question, but he sounded really sure that you recognize the one in the file.

and oh you do, it's the relative you were living with!, you know he's a drunkard and unresponsible, but to get involved with a mafia? how stupid can someone be?

"everything's clear now?" he folds the file back.

you have been caught in a big problem and there is no way out "so what you want from me? its not like I'll get the money out of nowhere when I'm here."

"you won't, we're not dumb enough to expect a kid to pay it, you're more of..a hostage here"

you scoff "do you really think that old man will care if i was a 'hostage'?"

"I'm not losing anything in trying"

you frown when he say that, seems like there's no way you can escape or reasonate with them, and there is no confirming that they won't kill you if no one asked about you.

you noticed quite a few things in the days you've been here, one there is alot of debris here that might help with escaping, second the people guarding the room are acting unserious in guarding that means either they're underestimating you, or that there is more danger up ahead.

either way you brave yourself and by your leg you slowly brought a sharp metal object near, it took quite the time but it was worth it when you managed to cut the rope off of your hands.

you waited until the sun disappeared since this seems the time they get the most tired, now it was dark,only the shade of the moon's light is lightning the place, as you see the guards start to yawn and some of them can't even keep their eyes open, you very carefully and slowly started to move toward a dark corner which you spoted an iron stick in it and plus it would be hard to spot you there,you almost got caught a few times but they were too...dump? to notice that you were moving.

not until you were in the corner had they realized you were 'missing', but you were pretty spotable if they were in an awake state, as they start to panic and gathered together, you pick up the stick and ran toward them quickly hitting the first then swing it at the second, the third managed to take his gun out but you quickly hit it, making it fall down then before he can realize what happened you hit him on his head.

no time to take a breath you quickly ran to the door, luckly it wasn't locked, preparing to whatever was ahead you tighten your fist on the stick and walked cautiously,looking right and left, your heart beating fast and you're sweating,the debris on the ground break whenever you step on them,making you jump everytime,it was mentally exhusting.

though you don't think the walk for the exit was more than a ten minutes, it felt like a ten hours, as you made it out without trouble and safely, you take a deep breath, looking at the sky, like you've been trapped for years, but there's no time to rest, you start running away in the woods, trying to get as far as you can before someone come, you don't know where you're going nor where this path lead, but it's better than falling into the darkness of that place.

the medium sized office,was dimly lit by the sunshine, despite it being a really sunny day,the cigarette's smell filling the room, making it soffcating, despite it's kind of small size, the office felt like a maze, a creepy maze of fear and authority.

a man, wearing a formal suit,was standing by the window, wich was covered by curtains from the outside, his reflection was very clear in the clean window, his eyes were practically dead, no emotion, only a dark shade that was staring....staring at what? his reflection or at the souls of the two terrified men behind him.

they were literally shaking, their gaze was glued to the floor no one dare to make a sound, the one who did was now lying down with his blood leaking, like a silent warning.

"that's a shame." his voice held a heavy authority tone to it, it was dark,deep, terrifying, the men behind him held their breath in fear, that was his first words since he received the news about the hostage escaping, he drop the cigarette to the ground and smashing it with his foot.

how long was it? week? month? oh...it was only day and a night, but it feels like forever, you're tired, cold, hungry, and desperate.

you didn't think there was worse than living with that old man, but here you are, running from a big organization, even the police are looking for you, why are the police looking for you?! who do you trust anymore?!

as you walked through a corridor to avoid being seen by the THOUSAND of men scattered around the place, you don't think it's a debt case anymore, it's more of a challenge, a punishment.

you stopped as you stumbled upon a bar, what does door to a bar doing in the shade of corridors? but you're not complaining, that mean it's empty, and no one will find you there,you can rest for a few minutes.

when you enter, the smell of alcohol hit you, you look around inside, there is a decent number of people here, weird, since it's really hidden, but you're still not complaining.

you sit at a table in the corner,and put your head down on it,letting out a sigh, that's the most comfortable rest you had taken until now.

a moment later and a waiter approaches you, his footsteps making you jump in warning, god you were paranoid.

"good evening,would you like to have something?" his tone was polite, something you didn't hear in a while.

"i-uh no, I'm not carrying any money on me sorry, i just want to rest here for a few moments." you gave an apologic smile.

"then I'm sorry you can't sit here without ordering something, our policy doesn't allow that." his voice turn more stern.

"please i won't make any trouble, just for a few minutes I'm really tired." you were desperate.

"that's nothing i can decide in, please get out if you won't order anything."

"but-"

"what's happening?" a thick voice yell from afar, an old man approach you "What is all this fuss about? i can hear it from there."

"boss, this customer didn't order anything and refuse to leave." the waiter explained.

"sir i swear i won't do anything, i just want to sit, rest my legs for a few seconds."

the old man, who you think is the owner, look at you for a second before his expression change to one of a stun, then he smiled suddenly "oh of course you can sit here, tut tut you should know how to treat a customer!" the owner Scold the waiter then take him away quickly.

that was suspicious but you get to sit so everything's good, or that what you think.

half an hour has passed, your body is well rested but your mind was a mess scattered around the place, filled with thoughts about your fate from now on, will you have to leave the country? take a new identity?, they seem like they won't stop anytime soon, ha you want to laugh, you don't know what's funny that you managed to piss off an entire organization or that your life haa been destroyed in a matter of a day, you suddenly feel like drinking, but you don't have any money, how much worse can this get?

..a loud thud pulled you out of your thoughts, you turned around wandering what caused this noise, only to see five men wearing the same suit as the ones who took you, the same mafia.

you turn to the opposite direction, ducking your head down, how are you gonna get out of this?

"mind having a guest?" you were too consumed by your thoughts that you didn't notice someone has approached you, with a shudder you lift your head up, a tall man was standing in front of you and the four had already circled you, you start panicing internally, but you're sure it's abvious on your face as well.

"hm..you don't seem a big fan of my company." he was being sassy, but his unmoving face was scary, that you don't know what to make from him anymore.

you stand up slowly, backing away step by step, "you don't want to run." the man says, and that was enough to stops you in your tracks, then you became aware of your surroundings, the four men were ready to pull their gun out at any given moment, and the one in front of you is eerily calm.

but you weren't going to give up to your cruel fate, as a last chance attempt, you pick up an ashry that was on the table, then you turn around, wanting to make this a hit and run, but suddenly, everything seemed to come to a stop, the ashry fall from your hand, there's a sharp pain in your shoulder, it was intense but at the same time it wasn't feelable, then everything faded away when you feel yourself fall down.

the throbbing pain in your shoulder was the first thing you felt when you regained consciousness, you groaned as you open your eyes,you woke up in a room,normal room, and it was too bright that you had a few minuted to adjust to it.

everything was foreign, you felt out of place..

you try to sit up, but the pain in your shoulder prevented you so, and then the memories of the bar all came back to you, the encounter with the mafia there, and your try to escape.

you lift your head up, looking around slowly, then with a loud breath you put it back in disappointment, seems like they caught you, you don't have the strength to even panic right now, giving up to your fate will be much easier.

when your head cleared you realized that you were lying down on a bed, it's softeness was something you didn't feel in a long time,but you don't think it's time to fee relieved yet, since you don't know when things could turn to the worst.

you don't know how much time passed until someone came to the room,you still can't sit up straight so you just kept lying down, looking at the door intensely, but then to your surprise a nurse has come in following by a man behind her, why are they even taking the time to take care of you? when it's clear by now that no one will ask about you again.

when the nurse saw you awak she let out an `oh` in surprise, she walked to you, settled her kit on the table next to your head, which you only see it now.

"I'm surprised, with this wound to wake up in a span of two days is really impressive, you have such a strong body." she said, her voice was silky, comforting.

you only nod in her direction, not feeling like talking right now, then you move your attention to the man standing by the door,he seem to be one of them but he didn't do any move or sound yet so you didn't give a mind to him as you again shift your attention back to the nurse who was getting her tools ready.

she changed your bandages and gave you some instructions to keep the wound closed, it was quick and in minutes you were alone again.

you let out a sigh, thinking about all the things that happened in these past few days,who knew you'll be unlucky enough to get in this mess, but again you were unlucky all your life, it shouldn't be a surprise,you felt like crying, but nothing came out, only silence and a bunch of memories.

Your chain of memories was interrupted when the door opened again, this time there stood the man who found you in the bar and behind him the one who was in the destroyed place that you were held hostage in.

you didn't have the strength to panic or anything, but you were afraid, and so much, especially from the one in the front, he seem to have something really creepy about him,something makes you don't want to look at him directly, he came to your side on the bed, and the other stayed by the door.

"i thought I'd visit you personally since my men were too dense to let you escape." like the first time you met him, his voice held no emotion at all, it's like he's just a monster without human basic things.

you gathered your strength to speak, nothing you'll say matter anymore to you "it's clear now that no one will ask or care about where am i, you won't gain anything from keeping me here." you spoke in a low voice, it wasn't your intention, but his aura makes you respect him uncontrollably.

he sat down on a chair, which again you only see now, then he lit up a cigarette and start smoking without saying anything in return, instead the man by the door speak.

"boss have thought of another use to you, you see, managing to escape from our men, and hiding for a day without being spotted has really impressed him,and so we searched for information on you, and your skill with computer plus sneaking will be of use to us." his tone was professional, not like the one before where he was speaking arrogantly.

`he's the boss then? ` you think, then you look at him, when he look back at you, you avert your gaze quickly, he was scary and it's not a joke.

"what do i make out of this?" you shift your attention back to the one by the door, your voice still uncontrollably low.

"you'll join us." he says, matter of a fact.

your eyes widen in surprise, and you stayed silent for five to ten minutes, debating how did it even come to here? you? with a mafia? but then hey...isn't it better than getting killed?

"that's too generous from the boss, you don't need that much time to accept." the one by the door speaks, his tone was impatient and a bit irritated.

"veto." the boss said in a scolding tone.

"sorry." he was quick to apologize, he seem to respect the boss alot, and it appear that his name is `veto`.

"I'll do it." you say without wavering, your voice gets a little bit higher.

maybe giving up to your fate isn't that bad.

[goodgirlsdoithisway]

The danger of friends and family.

Coming into my place as a woman has been difficult. I've been a feminist most of my life, believing I need to be free and do as I please. I surrounded myself with like-minded people, and kept pushing on even though I was suffering. These people had me convinced that I was unhappy because women have been "oppressed" by the patriarchy, and I just needed to rise above.

Here's the problem with this train of thought. Not everyone is capable or has the correct tools to survive alone in this world. Some people need structure and guidance to live. Most women fall into this category. Sure, we can do it, but it's incredibly hard, incredibly stressful, and it's a lifelong investment to work hard instead of smart.

Then, I looked into tradwife material. I started looking at how happy these women were. Sure, you occasionally see the sad ones living this life, but they are just full of resistance, like I was. These women made life look fun. What girl doesn't want to have a life where they don't have to worry about money, or politics, or drama? No internal struggles, just the calm acceptance of giving yourself to something bigger. A man.

My friends and family all called me out on this, saying I'm being red pilled. I told them I'm still committed to diversity and I love everybody, and I know I have the option to chase whatever dream I want, and that this was my dream. Not a single one believed in me. A few stopped talking to me altogether. I mean, I'm fucking trans for fucks sake. It's not like accepting my place under men means I'm all of a sudden A Trump supporter. No thank you, although I do hope to see some things revolving around women to pass, either way. We shouldn't be allowed to vote, hold jobs, or go anywhere without a man. Hell, Afghanistan just passed a law where no woman is allowed to speak in public, or to another woman at all. This would be great. No more toxicity spreading like wildfire, hurting our true place.

It's crazy how, when you go against the grain, you get demonized. It took its toll. I started thinking it was just a stupid fantasy I was grabbing onto because I wasn't working hard enough to make my life mine.

Then, with those few friends gone now, I started to realize I was feeling great in those moments I was embodying serving men. And without those extra comments, I was starting to be able to ignore the others saying those things. And as I cut more people off, I felt so much better. I felt deep inside that this was the right path. I knew that serving men was what I was created to do. It was like a certainty.

So I started reading more about it, embodying it, envisioning it. I set those feminist views aside and really devoted myself...I'm never going back.

Friends are toxic to a trad relationship. Family are toxic to a trad relationship. Even other trad wives can be turned, and in turn, turn you. Feminism is powerful because it promises unattainable visions of freedom. Friends and family can exacerbate that and poison your mind. When you devote yourself to this lifestyle, which I believe all women should, the adjustment is rough because there's so much propaganda out there, manipulating you into giving up the biggest, best, most fulfilling life a woman can have, a life of dedicated servitude.

It would be perfect to have a man who lives off grid with no electricity, no phone, no outside communication. To be taken by him, to his home, never allowed to leave or have visitors so that I may focus solely on Him would be the perfect life. Imagine forgetting people exist outside of Him. The only person you'll ever see again is the one you serve. No jealous friends to try to take you away or poison your mind. No family to pretend they know what's best for you. No. Only Him.

[banamine-bananime]

AITA for trying to save my friend and keep the rest of my asshole friends safe from their bad decisions?

I (M26) just went through this real shitty breakup. So basically, my ex C (M lmao man fuck if i know his age idek if knows it. or has one i guess) has this god-fucking-awful habit of deciding to solve every problem by dying about it and/or fucking off without so much as a word to the people unfortunate enough to give a shit about him, except maybe his sister (unhelpful for the rest of us because she also inherited the "fucking off without a word" gene. man fuck this whole family for making me care about them. whatever). Also, killing himself inside peoples brains thats like a whole hobby for him. like okay either ghost us OR kill yourself in front of us altering the trajectory of our lives forever PICK ONE like a NORMAL person.

Okay wait im not explaining this well. So years ago C and W (M37 now) were partners but C was, uh, in a really bad place mentally (S is telling me this is more diplomatic to say than "crazy af") and that situationship ended as badly as a situationship can end. I mean W's told me he pretty much had his sense of identity as someone separate from C totally destroyed by that for a while, which like, in hindsight its kinda an accidental dick move that our team made him take C's legal identity, but in our defense a) the fuck were we supposed to know?, b) tbf he really did need it not to go back to prison, c) it's not like C was using his identity, on account of the fucking off and effectively-dying-as-a-solution habits, and d) i mean. i gotta admit it's also pretty funny in a really fucked way.

aw shit derailed on a tangent again

recently its just like, we just get so focused on one thing its hard to remember anything else, you know?

S is so good at getting us back on track though. thank god because you would not believe the number of irons weve got in the fire to keep track of, its ridiculous. (i love making my partner be the planner in the relationship lol. highly recommend being a passenger princess in the body sometimes. fuck massages, i'm telling you THIS is what you need after a long day getting shit DONE and taking care of everyone else's messes)

So I met C 6 years ago, right out of basic, when we were privates stationed at the same base. middle of nowhere. shit, this is gonna be hard to explain, just realized i should use different names for C to keep them straight. I knew "A" and W knew "E", i didnt meet E until years later. theyre alters and also the same guy but also not the same guy. dont worry about it if you dont get it bc ive dated both of them and i dont think i do. my life is stupid.

Bunch of bullshit happened, A ghosted (lol. you'd be high-fiving me if you knew him) and then found a problem to solve by dying. you get it by now.

Then i meet E, E encounters a problem and tries to die about it round one (i guess round two, after exploding in W <- LOL. you should be high-fiving me right now), E's sister drags him back to the land of the living, E ghosts, W and i start dating, W tries to martyr himself and disappears because i guess E rubbed off on him (dude i am on a fucking roll. you should be high-fiving me out of pity for my glamorously miserable soap-opera life if nothing else. homophobic not to), our team gets W back, E strolls back like he has no idea why im mad at him, we fight about it, makeup-makeouts about it, and E tries to die about it round two: in my brain boogaloo.

So thats how S and i meet. oops, guess i never introduced S? Feels weird to have to introduce ourself twice, people dont really meet us separately anymore LOL. S (M, ageless) is also C's alter, my partner in life and badassery and brain and body. and obviously freaky sex stuff, that goes without saying but i'm saying it anyway to brag. the swish swish to my stabbing people who really deserve it. Not really interested in your opinion on our relationship, it's not what i'm asking about. we're aware its not conventional, because we're not fucking braindead. Im so sick of all the "oooohhhhh this isn't healthy", "he's a male manipulator and youre codependent i know bc i learned psychology from tiktoks by girls with green hair", "why are you wearing your ex-boyfriend's armor colors while wearing his dead ex-boyfriend's armor while dating and sharing a brain with your dead mutual ex's alter", "have you considered going to therapy instead of a quest against death itself" blah blah blah. If youre so bored you need to judge our life then just get your own 🙄🙄🙄

we've been really on that sigma grindset the last few weeks. S has got our sleep optimized down to a tight triphasic 3.46 hours and we're minmaxing the fuck out of the rest of every day. Biohacked to shit over here. too much to do, so we have to make there be enough of our time to do it. who else is gonna? my teammates? the REDS? we're half batman half babysitter to a gaggle of idiots who can barely be trusted to wipe their own asses, let alone fight their own battles and make decisions like "wah wah wah A is dead let's just give up and cry about it or whatever".

Don't even get me started on W. Oh youre all about character-building wake up and grind self-improvement and taking leadership until we're making decisions you dont like, i guess. WHATEVER. this is why we dont listen to you.

its hard, okay. like, you cant understand the sheer fucking stress were under trying to keep all our plans going smoothly while keeping these guys safe while they're basically actively trying to unravel every carefully-laid thread and also strangle themselves in them. im probably going prematurely grey and also losing some time. its hard to remember when we need to hold back and use the kiddy gloves. i really didnt want to come to holding - uh, we'll call him MC (M25) - by the throat, passed-out. he's like a brother to me, been through thick and fucking thin together, so yeah, i feel really bad about that, my bad, we were the asshole there, but like, maybe stop throwing yourself in the way? like run out into the road you're gonna get hit by a truck no matter how hard they slam the brakes. mfw the conses quence. but im NOT asking about that. everyone's been on our dick about "please god stop doing all of this" and abandoning A and trying to break us up way before that, and THAT'S what im asking about

Anyways tl;dr are we the asshole for getting shit done when it takes methods that all our monday morning quarterback friends dont like

_____

OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might be the asshole:

it really was a dick move to dangle my teammate's limp body in a chokehold even though it was basically an accident and also not even directly relevant to the question

OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might not be the asshole:

okay but we're right

[valarie-lovely]

"Quit Yelling!"

{Hey guys :3, I'm like super sick rn so like I'm gonna do this fic for the anon that suggested it! Sorry it took so long. Anyway, my winter break is almost over and I am like devastated. Hope everyone had a great New Year! Anyway, this takes place after the bathroom trap, reblogs and likes are appreciated, thank you! ♡}

Story Contains: Arguing, harsh language, mentions of truama, angst, comforting words and actions, fluff

———

The look in Adam's eyes says a lot. He's mad, pissed even. He's tried being soft with you, tried being kind and emotionally there, but it hasn't seemed to work for the both of you. Every time you have a problem with his actions or what he says, you keep it inside, letting it marinate in your mind and heart. Whenever he has a problem, despite trying to talk it out like adults, he just criticizes all of your actions harshly, always picking fights with you even though he hates these arguments.

The current situation that lies here revolves around communication. He's mad because you can't seem to speak out about your feelings, which causes him to feel like he's in the dark about your emotions and how you actually feel. In all honesty, you can't blame him for feeling this way. He is absolutely correct, and he does deserve someone who can communicate their emotions thoroughly without having to act immature and keep them hidden away. Yet, you know that he also has a problem with communication, so he must learn how to own up to that as well.

"Listen, I just think you should calm down. I mean, it's clear you have a problem with everything I do, so why do I even bother anymore!? Just quit yelling, you're utterly exaushting to deal with!" You spit out, watching his anger contort into something worse. He can feel his veins fill with hot blood at your words. He's always been a bit of a hot head, yet he's different this time. You know that it's not only your communication skills that are pissing him off. It's something more. Something deeper.

"You wanna talk about my problems when you can't even talk about your own? Isn't that fucking ironic, huh!? You're such a child, you can't even talk to me. I'm so fucking sick of your stupid little attitude, your tone, your personality, everything! Fucking everything! I can't even look at you without wanting to strangle the next living thing that walks its way past me!!" Hes practically going insane over this small altercation, causing you to stare at him like he's actually lost his mind.

And then, the realization comes crashing down onto your shocked face. This isn't the same boy he was before the trap. Adam isn't the boy he used to be. That boy, the one who used to sit outside with you, smoking cigarettes and feeding cats as he complimented your pretty features, has now changed into a traumatized, scared man. What he went through, something you have no idea what it was like, fucked him over more than anything else has. Well, anything but his childhood truama. When he does actually show his emotions, they're heavy. He's never just sad or angry. He's depressed or livid. He needs help.

"Adam.. You need fucking therapy. Go and find someone who cares, because I sure as hell don't. You're a pathetic excuse of a man. You're a boy." You manage to choke out, knowing that every word that escaped your lips were pure lies. You can see his jaw unclench, definitely hurt by your sudden words of anger and sorrow. His ocean eyes look down at the dirty, wooden floor, his nose breathing in the cold air that flows around his dark apartment.

~

The apartment is silent for the next couple of hours. You shower under some some cold water, leaving a chill down your spine as the shower head spits out the liquid. While stepping out of the cold tub, drying yourself off, brushing your teeth, staring at yourself in the mirror with solemn eyes, you just can't seem to stop thinking about his face, his emotional eyes that make puppies jealous. You only want him to feel loved, yet your words of poison stung his deepest insecurities. You know your souls are intertwined, which makes this pain hurt worse.

Sliding on your long sleep shirt, you slip down to the floor, leaning against the wall that's slowly peeling due to the poor quality. His words linger in your mind, which causes your breathing to hitch. Warm tears sting your eyelids worse than what his words ever did. He's supposed to be your everything, but it seems like neither of you are good for the other. This can't happen, you think in your head. Something needs to change because you know you can't lose your boy.

Suddenly, a knocking sound occurs at the bathroom door. Lazily pushing yourself off the floor to reach for the knob, you turn it and pull the wooden door open. Once you do, you're met with Adam and his regretful face. He's holding his headphones and Walkman in his right hand, his left still raised against the door. "Love.. I'm sorry. I— I was thinking I could maybe brush your hair as you listened to our Playlist on here." He raises the Walkman. "I know I don't usually let people touch this old peice of junk, but I love you, and I want you to know that. I shouldn't have said those things to you, but it's really hard not to lose my temper when you don't talk to me about your emotions. Can you forgive me, babe?"

The sight itself causes you to shed more tears. He's changed into your favorite shirt of his, knowing that it's the one you like to lie against after having a bad day. He's never been the domestic type, but he's different for you. With a sniffle and a nod, you walk right into his arms, burying your sad face into his warm neck.

Sitting in bed, you have the headphones on, listening to whatever song that graces your eardrums. A brush glides through your hair as Adam holds it. Gently and calmly, he makes sure you're okay and that you feel nothing but loved and cared for. These moments are rare, so you know you shouldn't take them for granted. A sudden feeling of Adam's lips graze the back of your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He slips the headphones off your ears, gently peppering your shoulder with soft pecks. "I hope you're not mad anymore. I shouldn't have said what I said. I— I have no excuse for my actions, but I hope you still love me because I know I love you. I'm going to change, so nothing like that happens again, but it means you have to change too. Talk to me. Don't hold it in. Alright?" His words fill your ears, proving his love and devotion for you.

"You're right.. I know. I'll change, love. I will. I forgive you.. Now, can you keep me close?" You ask, your eyes fluttering open and meeting his. He agrees, pulling you closer and showering your plump lips with his.

Okay! Uhm, hope you guys liked it! Likes + reblogs are encouraged. Thank you for reading :) ♡

[pabit]

Hi, its Patrick speaking.

Michael somehow locked up both of the camera creeps in the bathroom. I guess they were freaking him out while he was repairing the door or some shit? The footage is pretty much useless, which is a bit irritating…but I’ve transcribed the audio for you all here. I think its crucial to provide the full word-for-word conversation.

----

> welp…the hole has been patched. i will have to replace the entire door eventually but um, this will work for right now.

> …

> uh…

> ......

> habit?

> …YES?

> are you...upset about what i said earlier?

> WHAT? NO NO…IM FINE. > don’t even worry about it.

> …you’re lying.

> no i’m not—

> habit…i may be mentally unwell, but im not stupid. i know that look in your eyes. i know that tone in your voice. ive seen it all before - i was practically raised on the sadness of my institutionalized peers.

> IS THAT HOW YOU SEE THE HABIT? AS ONE OF THOSE PATHETIC FUCKING CRAZY HUMANS?

> ah…i wouldnt describe them that harshly but i mean, basically yeah? > they are just people with problems man…many of whom have done some fucked up things, patrick and myself included. mostly though, they are kinda just…sad. Because they keep fucking up, or getting fucked up, and they dont know how to stop it. evidently you are not much different from them or myself in that way

> so uh— i just wanna say that i’m sorry for my behavior. i was being a jackass and it was uncalled for. i wanted to believe you deserved that and much worse but…i dunno. spewing blind hatred like that doesnt sit right with me.

> ….... > no. don’t apologize.

> what? why not?

> nothing you said was inaccurate nor unjustified, michael. why be sorry about that?

> because, uh…you apologized to me first? an' well, thats unlike you. at least, its unlike whatever i thought of you before today. maybe patrick is onto something…and maybe i was little too quick to judgment.

> HA…ARE YOU SURE YOURE NOT STUPID? I’VE DESTROYED MORE THAN JUST YOUR DOOR. I KILLED—

> i know. i know. and i dunno if i’ll ever truly forgive you for taking my brother away…but like. i also can recognize the value of an apology. it’s a good start, if you really mean it.

> …

> do you mean it, habit? are you actually sorry?

> I HAVE NOTHING TO GAIN FROM LYING TO YOU.

> sure– unless you think appeasing me is what will keep yourself from being kicked out and left to die alone

[HABIT laughs]

> I’D BE A MORON TO SINCERELY BELIEVE THAT. YOU AND PATRICK HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BAR ME FROM THIS PLACE, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANY REASON. I ACCEPT THAT. I WOULD DESERVE IT. AND ONE WAY OR ANOTHER…I WILL DIE WITH ALL OF MY REGRETS RIGHT BESIDE ME.

> I APOLOGIZED BECAUSE, WELL…I BELIEVE YOU DESERVE ONE, WHILE I STILL HAVE THE TIME TO GIVE IT. ONE LESS REGRET TO TAKE TO THE GRAVE, EH? > there is no other reason.

> you believe i deserve an apology, huh...

> ERRR…YEAH. > I CANT PRETEND LIKE I FULLY UNDERSTAND ALL THE WAYS IN WHICH MY ACTIONS HAVE AFFECTED YOU…BUT UM...

> YOU LOST SOMEONE DEEPLY IMPORTANT TO YOU. I HAVE LOST SOMEONE RECENTLY TOO. AND UH, IT…HURTS. IT HURTS AND IM THE ONLY MONSTER TO BLAME. > IF THE PAIN I LIVE WITH NOW IS EVEN REMOTELY CLOSE TO WHAT I’VE DONE TO YOU…THEN YES…i am sorry.

> I KNOW THAT WILL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH AND WONT FIX A DAMN THING...SO THROW ME OUT, IF YOU MUST. I WILL GO WITHOUT QUESTION.

> …

> …

> …

> …WELL?

> ...... . . . . . .........

> MICHAEL?

> …ugh…uh, hey…habit.

> ERR— PATRICK?

> heh…you got it…

> sorry im…still a bit fuzzy upstairs at the moment.

> UM. OKAY. SIT DOWN THEN?

[I flopped into the couch next to Habit, kinda bracing against him to ground myself.]

> SO UM– > IS MICHAEL ALRIGHT?

> Michael…? Oh right. > He’s fine.

> …THAT'S ALL? JUST FINE?

> Ugh– dude my head is killing me right now, gimme a break…

> OH. SORRY.

> Its– its okay, Habit. This is nothing out of the ordinary, really…it happens pretty often when I come around.

> AH…

> Anyways, ummmm…yeah! > Michael is fine. Processing everything, but he's fine. I won't go into more detail though…it's not really my place to talk about his feelings about you, after all. He will come back to say what he needs to when he is ready.

> AND IF HE IS NEVER READY…? IF HE WANTS ME GONE?

> Luckily for you, Mikey doesn't have the only say in that matter. You still have me, Habs – and I want you to be here.

> ................

----

Habit didn't say anything else after that, so thats when I decided to get up and let the creeps out of the bathroom. Now I'm in the kitchen; finishing up this post and waiting for this batch of cookies to bake. I'm just trying to give Hab's brain a moment to catch up with itself, y'know? You know. Whatever. Hopefully the sweets will lighten the mood. I promise I wont eat them all this time, heh.

It also appears that I have missed some interesting bits of insight while out of the house today, so I will check back in later once I am better informed and Habit has gotten a few dozen cookies in his stomach.

[ask] >>

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Since day one in Aaru village, your life has become... less difficult, to say the least. Since that fateful night where Candace had brought you under her care, the elders of the village became aware that your presence could have brought problems and that the other archons would clam up your head and the lives of the villagers as punishment for the crime of hiding the "imposter". But Candace was adamant about the matter: you were nothing but a victim of some circumstances, and the village would have not turned its head to the other side on a travaller in need of help.

Dehya, besides being one of the few who wanted you far away from there, decided to follow Candace in her judgment. Not because she feared that glim of protectiveness that she showed to you, but because, after all, there was truth in her words. You were fragile, a flower that was supposed to burn under the scorching sun.

She never understood the protector, and then something changed.

Maybe it was that, despite what others from other nations said, you never actually claimed to be the Creator or something. Y/n, such a simple name—so human. Why would someone who could easily make people believe that they are indeed the creator, the allmighty, the one who rules their world just go around without even thinking about that possibility?

Maybe it was that gleam in your eyes? The one that wandered over the desert, seeing it as a place full of wonders and adventure, but still respected it, not taking it as a mere desolated pile of sand?

Maybe it was the fact that, every day, you greeted Candace with a smile that could even compare to the sun while trying to sound nice even to her, despite how harshly you were with her at the beginning? Maybe it was your laugh while plaing with the children, taking care of them, helping people around...

Maybe it was something around each of these suggestions, but she could even understand that questioning gaze when she politely asked you to just sit on a cushion with a brush in her hand.

"...W-why..."

"Well, firstly, because I noticed that your ingested harm can't even take care of your basic needs...and because I thought it could be a nice gesture..."

She felt waves of embarrassment clashing with her. It was a stupid idea, but she honestly thought that could ease your mind! She likes taking care of her own hair; it makes her head less heavy!

"I-I...forget it, it was a stupid i-"

"NO! No, no, it's not... I would love to, really!"

There was a slight chance that, maybe, that was more an act of politeness than the actual desire to spend some quality time with her, but it was something, right?

You never thought that Dehya was harsh or aggressive. Well, she was in battle with her enemies, but she was usually protective of the people for whom she genuinely cared. Her hand massaged calmly on your scal, the brush caressed gently on your length, and her nails were so gentle on our skin. It was relaxing. I remember a nice moment when someone who cared for you treated you this way. You could swear that you heard Dehya humming something behind her sealed lips.

"You right, it feels nice."

"It does? I'm glad then, but don't think I'll do this often; I'm still needed around here, you know"?"

"Y-yeah..."

Another thing came to our minds. It was more of a question that, in the end, was a normal thought that wanted to come out of your mind. Your finger is scratching the skin of your opposites, catching a Dehya face connected to some small knots in your hair.

"You're not forced to be nice to me."

She stopped all of a sudden. A strange questioning look on her face was facing your own.

"I know that I can be troubled. That's why Candace is working to find me a new home! I just thought that if you want to avoid me, I'm not blaming you!"

"Cut it."

It was more of a growl than a request. Her eyes turned a fierce one, yet she remained composed on her seat, reaching with her free hand for our arm.

"If I hadn't wanted to be here, then you wouldn't have seen me at all. I'm not nice with you by force; I'm nice because I want to."

Her grip wasn't painful at all; it felt comforting, but not as much as her words. Then a small blush appeared on her cheekbone, and she started to scrawl with her other hand, the brush still in her hand.

"You have it hard. I must say you are pretty much stronger than you believe. I never met someone who could be this nice after all the hell they've been through. So..."

Another thing you learned was that Dehya wasn't the girl you thought she was—she was even better.

[romancerepulsed]

disclaimer: i am american and i can only speak for how it is here, but regardless this post is about online spaces

i have to say it. "romance negativity" is not a thing and you all look like clowns for saying it and placing it right next to sex negativity. sex negativity exists within a large system oppression. its a set of beliefs an individual can have, yes, but those beliefs in and of themselves are nothing without their institutional support. sex negativity, though it hurts queer people the most, negatively affects every person who desires to interact with sexuality in any way. sex negativity is major websites and apps banning porn for the sake of profit. sex negativity is restricting abortion access. sex negativity is absitence-only education. sex negativity is the criminalization of sex work. sex negativity is rape culture.

romance negativity does not exist in this way. the most romance negativity could possibly harm you is it hurting your feelings a bit when an aromantic person expresses their frustrations with amatonormativity. our institutions actively push for romance and partnering. our whole society is structured around it. all of our entertainment is infested with it. there is no significant cultural push to devalue romance the same way there is for sex, and thats why the discussion of the evil repulsed aros who hate romance and hate you for experiencing it is so fucking stupid to me. like, every romance repulsed aro i know is so painstakingly polite and supportive to the alloromantics and romance favorable aros around us. we are constantly gritting our teeth and working through it, because thats what we have always had to do.

ive also seen posts complaining that romance repulsed aros make the community feel unsafe for romance favorable aros, which... i have not seen any of the rumored aro elitism this implies at all. im sure there are some guys out there who exclude romance favorable aros, and they absolutely suck ass. but this is not a widespread problem at all. and i need you to put yourselves in the shoes of a romance repulsed aromantic person right now. someone who has just found the language for what theyve been struggling with all their lives, and theyre excited to find a community for people like them, a community thats supposed to be free from the talons of amatonormativity, only to find out most of the people there are still talking about their partners, their crushes, the romantic things they wanna do with their friends, etc. its isolating. this isnt to say aromanticism isnt a spectrum or that people shouldnt talk about their experiences as romance favorable aros, im just trying to get you to understand *why* repulsed aros can seem so irritable or aggressive at times.

so im sorry that romance repulsed aros expressing their frustration with the very fabric of society being against them hurt your feelings. but i think maybe thats just something youre gonna have to deal with. if you need tips on sucking it up then maybe ask a romance repulsed aro, we're used to it 👍

[crushedsweets]

Hey! I love your artwork! I think it’s beautiful!!!

I just wanted to ask, what would Toby and Natalie’s relationship be like if they were able to start dating? I’m genuinely curious.

P.S. LONG LIVE TICCIWORK AND NINAKATE!!!!!

HIIII OK I LIKE THIS OMG i cant believe i hadnt thought about it before. ok i spoke a lot more than i thought i would...all under the cut LOL omg..

okay so, like i mentioned, they would probably have some random drunk kiss one night. maybe a christmas party and nina brings in mistle toe and its stupid. maybe new years party and the clock strikes 12 and they were like 'fuck it why not'.

natalie would have to initiate a lot of the starting conversations and touches. toby grew up with people thinking he was some gross virus roaming around, with boys pushing him around and girls sneering at him, so he's really hesitant. and natalie does get upset pretty easily if toby tries doing things without her permission, even if its something like doing her laundry - he has to ask. and he always does

it would start off pretty awkward too... neither of them know what to say, and both of them are so stubborn with egos the size of the moon - their pride knows no bounds. but at times, toby's ego can morph into something more cocky and he'll say stupid shit. 'you wanna kiss me so bad i know it' 'oh should i get nina to buy some mistle toe again' 'if you wanted to spend the night you couldve just asked'. at first clocky would get mad and pissy, and toby would laugh at her, and they'd move on. but eventually instead of moving on, one of them would say something like 'well.... do you actually want to' and they would. awkwardly, of course. a kiss, laying in bed together, brushing eachothers hair, etc.

their most intimate moments probably happen in the kitchen. that's always been quite the place of love for toby, so to lean against a counter and bring natalie close and give her a kiss in the warmest room of the house while something good is cooking in the oven ... probably means a lot to him

i think they'd love hikes. theres a waterfall in my au that they'd go to often, strip down to their underwear, and sit under. they'd wrestle and splash water and laugh and eat some fruit they packed and fall asleep under the sun after hours of just fucking around. kisses constantly swap between sudden acts of passion and excitement, to a quiet, lazy, quick kiss while throwing a towel over their shoulder.

but of course, they are still difficult. toby's reckless and natalie is picky, so theres a lot of arguments that spring up from nothing. this would be a constant thing until one of them eventually cries - something neither of them are used to. that would probably be a tipping point for them to start really looking into being a better person for eachother. but that is not easy by any means and neither of them are capable of being perfect. at fucking all

their biggest issue would be close to their canon shit.. toby wants to stay, clocky wants to leave. run away from all the bullshit she got trapped in. clocky is more likely to truly just fuck off and leave toby behind, and that scares the everliving shit out of toby every day - he'd swap between 'i have to be so good she'll never leave' and 'you fucking asshole just leave already its inevitable theres nothing i can do to change it'. but clocky just wants to live a normal normal normal life. she wants to grow old with kids and a career and a nice dog and to make dinner every night. she wants her biggest problem to be the dog tracking in mud.

eventually toby settles down, and while he cant just walk away from slenderman, they figure something out. a shared apartment, toby gets closer to the farm owners and he starts working more often. clocky gets into tattooing. toby is the first person she ever tattoos on. they both have to compromise a lot, but they can't imagine doing this for (or with) anybody else

[kai-anderson-whore]

The evans (what they're like drunk)

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

Tate Langdon:

okay so I feel like tate would be so fun to get drunk with

��until he thinks of something sad then your his shoulder to cry on

•you'll probably end up crying too

•but besides that he'll play nirvana on repeat and will make you dance with him to about a girl

•you will definitely make out at Somepoint during the night

•that's the type of friendship you both have

Kit Walker:

•now kit is a pretty relaxed when he drinks which in my mind is probably like a few beers at night once the kids are asleep

•I'd imagine him with a record on probably elvis or sinatra sitting on his chair with you in one arm a cold beer in the other

•he'd be more loving when he has a drink or two in him placing kisses on your shoulders telling you sweet nothings

•just blissful

Kyle spencer post- death:

•now as we all know Kyle is a frat boy so he'd be a mess if he's completely hammered

•but he's the responsible one so that doesn't happen often

•he'd make sure your safe and that his frat brothers don't do stupid things

•but if he get so drunk he'd be like "y/n do you know how much I love your cute face" with smoochy lips 😘😘

Jimmy darling:

•we've seen it in the show he has his moment when he's drinking

•like tate one minute he can be happy singing songs that pop into his head without a care In the would to being all sad or angry if its missing his mother or just something stupid that pissed him off

•his hands will be all over you without a doubt he's a horny drunk

•you would tell him no if you are sober but if you drank with him then your going at it all night let's just say

James patrick march:

•Now as we all know james likes his whisky and absinthe and being dead he could literally drink anyone under the table

•he doesn't get wasted probably thinks it's distasteful but he did a few times before and let's just say he's a helpless romantic even drunk

•would literally shower you with live and affection and if you don't let him he's a whiny bitch

•"darling What's the matter please hug me" "James you reek of booze" "this is an outrage"

Rory monaghan:



•Rory will bombard all his social media platforms with videos of a night out like he would post every detail of the night

•instantly regrets it in the morning when he's hungover

•will definitely do weird dad dances and would want you to join him so he's not alone

•I feel like he's the type of drunk that would need to be on one of those backpacks kids have so they don't run away because the second your eyes leave him he's off and it will take ages to find him

•he would be one of those drunks that ask so many weird questions no one knows the answer to like "how are humans actually put on this earth it doesn't make sence"

(Kai Anderson)



•Now kai would stop drinking because he needs to stay sharp for the cult but if he's having a very bad day he would drink his problems away or fuck his stress out of you

•he's an angry drunk for sure would constantly snap at anyone in sight and throw glasses in the room

•if your there you could possibly calm bim down sometimes it's a no go but you try your best

•would definitely try and get into your panties but you say no because well he's drunk but kai is consistent and will not take no for a answer

(Jeff pfister)



•Jeff wouldn't drink since he's always off his tits with the coke but he might mix them both on occasion

•he would blackout not remember a single thing at all

•probably would make out with mutt since he's completely wasted

•would wake up the next morning with mutt not remembering a thing which freaks him out because he could had probably committed a crime and he wouldn't know but you were there the next morning with a photo gallery full of videos from the night before

(Austin sommers)



•Now we all know austin likes his alcohol but he also likes to still be fully aware of what's going on around him

•but once in a blue moon he would get hammered which he would never be away from karaoke singing all the cheesy hits like cotton eye Joe or barbie girl

•once your both home he would ask you to pamper him with face masks and what not, so you both lay on the bed with a face mask on some more whisky laughing and joking (I think this could be a fic?)

[trenchgardens-ooc-ooc-ooc-ooc]

The Beforan zeitgeist has a culture of excuses and mis & disinformation that the greater culture's fascist right uses as leverage for their exclusionary politics and fuel for a culture war which gives them an in-road to power, a distraction from scrutiny, and a way to get common people to go against their own best interests. Here are that thing's summerized thoughts on lowbloods. In other words, its the quiet part being said out loud.

rust - inherently stupid and unworthy of any kind of aid or investment. any effort put into educating them will either be wasted or will be pointless in a few years when they die of old age.

bronze - inherently stupid, maybe more than rust, and also unreliable, still unworthy of any effort or investment. predisposed towards addiction and why would you give anything to a population that would just spend it on drugs. Theyre more like animals than trolls, its why they should be excluded from any kind of aid or investment.

gold - intellectually smart but hyper granular, completely oblivious when it comes to any other intelligence, also considered cruel, if they arent high enough grade psionic to be in a psionic training program, theyre considered predisposed to being erratic and self interested and thus are unreliable and unworthy of aid or investment.

lime - emotionally smart, but idiotic when it comes to any other form of intelligence, genetically unstable and prone to mutations, all need special help to cope with the big scary world. any investment directed towards them would be wasted, better to just keep them home instead of sending them to school, cullers.

in other words, the misanthropic tropes are that Rustbloods are only good for uneducated labor, they'll die too soon to be worth investing in, Bronzebloods will spend any money they get on some inebriant and if they aren't inherently stupid they'll end up wrecking their brains for the same end result, Goldbloods are selfish cruel and insular, and Limebloods are "special" not fit for the real world.

It should go without saying that none of these are actually inherent to their bloodcastes and are at best complete and arbitrary fabrications, and at worst founded on misleading data and maliciously ignorant interpolations of the already misleading data.

Rustbloods' naturally shorter lives are far exaggerated due to almost universally getting inferior medical treatment, if any at all, working the hardest jobs, and getting the least compensation. Their trend towards being less educated is a result of their mistreatment, and then their lower education is used to justify the continued mistreatment.

Bronzebloods are about the same, because of their just slightly more favorable treatment compared to Rust, theyre also subject to all of those problems, their unique propagandized issue of drug problems is in reality both overblown and more a repercussion of their place in society. they more or less inhabit an economic hotspot where their prospects are so miserable that they have no hopeful future, but they aren't so under the thumb as to be consistently forced to focus on the uber-short term with no opportunity for recreation. because of all of this there is a real and significant trend towards addiction that has subsequently been exaggerated and integrated into the propaganda of their bloodcaste. the only thing actually inherent to their caste that relates to their stereotyping is the animal communion psionics, which had an outsized representation in bronze communities even before troll eugenic programs focused on delineation isolation and segregation of psionic traits in castes.

Goldbloods are a semi-protected caste due to how critically important their exploitation is to the empire. There are ships that don't have helms, but they're only used in-system, and they're not preferred. they're like crossing the Atlantic, you can do it in a plane or a boat. their extreme psionics are also the result of a eugenics program, in troll genetics most things are, trolls didn't originally have psionic sub-demographics that were truly isolated to a single caste, but its really a different thing entirely for the Goldbloods. It was an effort comparable to breeding dogs for increased maximum land speed. Goldbloods, because of this, have an outsized representation of physical health issues and, of course, of mental illnesses, particularly mood swings, anxiety, and psychotic disorders, and finally, something not dissimilar to human adhd &/or autism. Many of these problems are comorbid with psionics, but its rare to find a goldblood who doesn't suffer from a single one of them. Its something quite similar to the other heavily troll-modified bloodcaste, Ceruleans... Though Ceruleans get far more special care for their unique demogeaphical risks, to the point where its basically a foregone conclusion. Something a Goldblood is ridiculed for is something a Cerulean might not even realize they also do|have|need, just because the zeitgeistic atmosphere around it is so different.

Limebloods... they are a storybook of opression. The rates of education among limebloods are some of the lowest, take out hiveschooling and they Are the lowest. They're a protected caste— universally culled— Their stereotype is of being stupid. Tell me if you think its genetic or not. Emotional intelligence is just about the only form of intelligence that is given any sort of means for them to reach. Non-Psionic Limebloods have no special emotional insight, and those who are psionic, arent suddenly Gondi just cause they have to sift through the emotions of everyone in the room AND their own and then figure out which are which. Their psionics, morso than most other psionics, are totally overwhelming. The reasons that emotional intelligence is more common in those who are psionic is survivorship bias. There is actually a higher rate of mutation in Limebloods... Now that the Lime Mothergrub Program is in full effect. That stereotype— the notion that limebloods are exceptionally unstable, was part of the long term smear campaign enacted by the Empire's control initiative which in part resulted in the LMP. Lime hysterics, Lime mutagenics, Lime retardation, undercut Lime voices and supress new ones. Convince the culture that Limes need intervention. Spin it benevolent and you'll have them under your scalpal in sweeps. You'll get your LMP. The LMP which is a program to systemically remove Limeblood genetics from the pool by only turning in Lime bonded material to one Mothergrub and none other. This has FUCKED the genetics of Every troll which that MG has spawned. Its not as obvious for some, but its the reason there are trolls like Root and Star, if you remember those two. Even beyond all of that, as a lowblood protected caste, the world is made to be scary to them. Because they are coddled and constrained their whole lives, almost universally, they are never told how to function. Not by default. Not how other castes are. Of course they need special help, all castes need special help with caste specific problems, but if you want to minimize special help, maybe raise them like normal fucking trolls. Maybe stop spending effort specifically fucking up Limebloods.

But of course the point isnt Actually any of that. The point is cruelty. The point is control. If you can convince the lowest [coolblood] he's better than the best [warmblood], he won't notice you're picking his pocket.

Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he'll empty his pockets for you

In summary, the effects of their societal hardships are propagandized as inherent to their blood color, and then that notion is used to justify the perpetuation of their hardships.

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.23

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

"Can I move?" I asked the professor. The pain has disappeared, and my body feels strangely light and warm, almost as if a heavy burden has been lifted from me.

The professor's smile widens, and he nods gently. "Of course. It is a dangerous operation, but everything went perfectly, and there will be no scarring. However, the wound will be visible for a few more days because I stitched it up instead of just healing it, as complications may still arise, but you should not be restricted in any way."

After listening to him, I lay there for a moment longer. Can I really move after such an operation? But I gather my last bit of trust in people and slowly sit up. To my surprise, however, I don't feel any discomfort. Delighted about being pain-free, I even go so far as to stand up. This time, I don't look like a stick figure only kept intact by magic around its body. Strangely enough, I don't even have muscle problems, even though I've slept for a few days.

As my feet touch the cold ground, I suddenly feel a sharp pain in my head. I think I remember a camp for a second, but it looks strange—darker than it probably should be—and an unfamiliar, battle-hardened man stands alone before me. But he disappears as quickly as he appears.

Shaking my head, I begin to see black spots. I feel myself falling, but suddenly a pair of hands are grasping my arms. With my eyes half open, I can barely see the professor holding me. But my body feels so weak that my head falls into my neck but almost instantly snaps back to its original position as I regain my strength. For only half a second do I remember that I was shortly gone; it happened so quickly that I almost missed it.

Professor Palladium looks at me with concern, but I only shake my head as the dizziness and headache suddenly dissipate. But somehow, I feel like I've forgotten something I shouldn't have forgotten.

Even though he seems suspicious, he nods nonetheless, hands me my clothes, and tells me that someone will be waiting outside the room to bring me to my assigned bedroom, which I will live in for the next few months. I don't ask him what he means because I'm sure someone will explain it later.

Immediately after the professor leaves the room, my eyes wander around. On the side table, on a plate, are two small pillows with two perfectly round balls sitting on them. They look familiar to me, as if I've seen them before. One glows in many different colors, while the other only radiates a light blue. But where have I seen them before? As I try to remember, my feet quickly get cold. Annoyed, I push my worries away to put on my new clothes.

Pulling over my socks first, I let out a relieved sigh. Stepping into my pants, I leave them on the floor and instead grab my shirt. Pulling it over my head, I suddenly hear the door open again. Wondering if I should hide myself, I, in the end, do nothing but stand there. There is no sound. Believing the person has just left after seeing my butt naked, I roll my eyes, further annoyed that nobody has any decency to knock.

With my shirt in place and my hair sticking away in all directions possible, I turn to get my sweater and see a tall young man standing frozen in the open doorway.

“Do you mind?” I ask him, with a meaningfully raised eyebrow. He turns bright red at my suggestion. At least he's not as stupid as I first assumed. Or maybe he interpreted it differently than he should've. Who knows? His face turns bright red; he turns around without saying a word, and instead of leaving or closing the door, he merely blocks the view inside. Maybe I gave him too much credit; he seems to be as idiotic as my first impression suggested.

I quickly put on all my clothes to hide my pride, but I believe I have seen him look over his shoulder once or twice. It doesn't bother me much; it feels almost normal to have someone watching me, almost like it's happened many times before, but I can't remember why.

I shrug my shoulders, getting more annoyed by the second as endless holes appear in my memories. But this is not the right moment to force myself. I gather everything together and, to my surprise, find my successor ring right between the two strange balls. As I put it back on, I feel my heart beating a little faster, pride filling every fiber of my being.

I take the plate and finally turn with both hands full to the guy, Sky, as he calls himself, although that name doesn't suit him with his dark brown hair and warm hazel eyes.

"We can go now," I tell him as I come up right behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he winces, but quickly laughs it off and scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. But he nods.

He gives me enough room to walk past him; nevertheless, I feel his eyes on the back of my head as I go. Shortly afterward, I hear the door closing behind us and him jogging after me. As he walks alongside me at my pace, he looks down at me, as his height really should be illegal, but he quickly looks back up, and a small smile forms on his lips. Why? I have no idea, but somehow it lifts my spirits too.

We don't speak a single word the whole way to the other side of the building. He leads us straight to the front tower. As I approach it, a shiver runs down my spine, as if the temperature suddenly dropped. There's something about this place that makes me very uneasy.

"Don't you feel uncomfortable being so close to the tower?" I asked Sky from the side. Since I don't see much of a reaction, I turn away again.

"A little," he says suddenly, "but it's not bad; more like sadness, I guess?" Looking at him again, I have a different feeling about him. He might be more reasonable than I thought.

We are already at the door to the tower, but Sky is getting nervous. When I try to talk to him about it, he suddenly opens the door as if something would jump out from inside. But nothing happens, which makes me wonder why he has become so nervous.

He is the first to enter the room, and I follow close behind. Since I don't see anyone else in the large room, I sit down on one of the four beds, which are loosely separated by half-walls and look like they were made hastily.

“Where are all the others?“

"After your fights with the specialists and Stella, our teachers decided to turn this into a regular training camp," he tells me. Changing the subject completely. "Both schools want you to join them after you showed your talent." A small blush grows on my cheeks at the compliment: "But honestly, where did you learn to fight like your life was at stake?"

I look at him with wide eyes, not understanding his questions. The only fight I remember was before I fell unconscious, so what could he mean? Especially since the Red Fountain Academy, is for specialists and, as far as I know, I can only use my fairy magic.

Sky seems oddly assertive about it, but I can't answer him, so we only stare at each other for some time while he leans against a desk that's quite high, probably for him, since he's the tallest person I've seen there.

After a few moments, I have to break eye contact because I'm getting uncomfortable. Instead, I avert my gaze; they land on the other two beds that are impossible to miss, and I turn back to Sky to ask him about our roommates. But at that very moment, the room door opens. My eyes jump over immediately, but all the blood drains from my face when I see the two boys stumbling in. They laugh and shove each other slightly, only to look into the room and see me. Their faces twist, but instead of disgust, there is something else that almost looks like remorse.

My gaze darts back to Sky, searching for an answer to my unspoken question. But he only looks away, ashamed. With my mouth open, I jump back to my feet and look from Sky to the other two. No matter how many times I do this, I don't get an answer, nor does this feeling of betrayal growing inside me go away.

"You can't be serious!" I yell without hesitation. My fists are clenched and pressed at my sides. I want to bury them like they deserve. But Brandon and Riven look shocked, as if they can't believe my outburst. How ridiculous. "You're forcing us all to share a room when you know they tortured me? Sky, you saw it yourself! So why would you betray me like that?"

The brown-haired giant couldn't look me in the eye and instead turned away from me completely. His behavior forces me to turn to the other two, who look even more shocked. Their attempt to feign innocence disgusts me so much that I can't stand it anymore. I give Sky one last look of pure anger before storming between Brandon and Riven, shoving them out of the way with my shoulders.

When I get to the door, I rip it open, wanting to say more and humiliate them further, but I bite my tongue and slam the door behind me instead. The next moment, I hear their voices behind the closed door, but I ignore their words and walk away.

Even though I have no idea where to go, I wander around until I end up back in the round front foyer, with a large mosaic on the floor and a dome-shaped ceiling. I saw nothing of this when I first entered the building. I can only assume that since the building now has extensive magic, it probably changes its appearance according to its wishes.

What really catches my attention are the doors, or rather, what is beyond them. Through the open doors, I see a group of specialists in training battles, but behind them are hundreds and hundreds of meters of stone walls throughout the forest region. I completely forgot about the fight with Stella and the things I had to pull out to avoid losing within the first ten seconds.

Groaning, my body slumps a little. It feels like a walk of shame as I step outside. The sun shines on me, warming my miserable heart just enough to keep my emotions from erupting. Outside, I step on a stone path. I'm pretty sure the area around the house looks different than it did when we arrived, which reinforces my belief that the building is changing things.

Still close enough to the building, I lean against it and pretend to watch the specialists fight, but in reality, I place my hand on the building behind me. Almost immediately, I hear a happy voice ring through my head. I can't suppress a small smile as I hear the pure joy in the voice.

It babbles about all the improvements it can make since I have combined my magic with the building's core. I've never heard anyone thank me so much in my life. It tells me at length about the stone paths it built, from the school building to the training ground to the paths to the other schools it renovated.

Before I can even ask about the stone platform occupying the middle of the once-open field where the specialists are currently training, the building is already talking about it. It mentions that the guys wished for something like this because the platform I fought Stella on was heavily damaged.

I would be lying if I said it didn't hurt to hear that I damaged something this old. Even though the old training ground was already in pretty bad shape, it was more than unnecessary for me to destroy it. When the House mentioned the unnecessary destruction of a large part of the territory that it controls, I could only hang my head in shame.

I silently apologize to the building, but thank it for the information. It also thanks me for sharing my magic with it, so I push myself off the wall and break our connection.

With slow steps, I walk across the large vacant space with fresh, healthy grass beneath my feet and wander straight to the specialists' training point, where two guys, probably second-years, are showing the first-years how to do mock combat. Although no one looks new to combat, it is still a beautiful sight, especially in their skin-tight tracksuits.

Never in my life have I found it so difficult not to look below a man's belt. Despite my attempts, I can't prevent the odd glance at the small and large mountains hugged by their tracksuits. I can imagine myself touching their flawless backsides. It's simply cruel of them to show off those mountains so blatantly.

Shaking my head, I once again try to avert my eyes. These tracksuits should be banned. Honestly? I've never seen a troop train like that. And if my guards did something similar, I'd punish them with five times as much training.

[Masterlist]

[aropride]

thinking about therapy again bc i knowww i need to be in it. but i think one of my inarguable needs in a therapist is that they see me as an equal? i guess is the best way to put it. and thats not really something you can Ask it's more of a vibes based thing. but like. i hate playing stupid with doctors psychiatrists therapists etc i want to be like This is what im experiencing These are the resources ive looked into This is what i think is going on. where do we go from here. and like i know a fair amount about psychology and i dont want to have to pretend i dont. or for them to assume i dont. and like id look into peer support and stuff but i feel like thats more short term and less intensive than id need to unpack my childhood stuff. Oh i completely forgot to post and also finish typing this. anyway idk like what are even the chances of finding a provider in my area, who takes my insurance and is willing to work with me abt the copay, whose main modality isnt cbt, whos experienced in cptsd/dissociative disorders, and also who i click with as a person. idk. it feels completely hopeless lol and i know its not but like. maybe im fine rn like maybe i dont even need therapy really (least fine guy youve ever met voice)

but the other problem is i also need like, a social worker who isnt school-related and extremely overworked (god bless her tho omg) bc i need a lot of help getting like, case management and applying for disability etc. and just normal therapy isnt gonna help me when i also need those things. but i feel like most long term therapists arent also social workers and vice versa

and i dont even know what modality would be helpful for me. i know dbt WAS when i was younger, but now i know like. the basics, ive learned the coping skills etc. so idk if it would still be helpful? and i know like, somatic focused therapy or whatever would probably be helpful, because actually understanding what my body was doing and why and how that effects my mental health has been really helpful in the past. but also i feel like a lot of somatic therapists are... whats a nice way to say this. like a lot of the ppl ive seen either on like psychologytoday etc or on instagram reels are. the type of guy to buy dreamcatchers on shein and use cherrypicked parts of other cultures without understanding their cultural context. and, like, try to cure my dissociative disorder with reiki or something. Sorry im thinking abt the therapist i had in early 2020 now

idk i just dont really know what to look into even. bc ive heard good stuff from a friend abt emdr but im skeptical of emdr like, casually. like i havent tried it and i dont know a huge amount about it, but on the surface it kinda sounds like bullshit- yeah just look between these lights and think about stuff and thatll fix you. but i also understand how repetitive movement can be calming (#autism) and it makes sense that being exposed to those memories and also in a safe place would be helpful? and i like that u dont have to talk abt the traumas in depth out loud. but i also feel like thats more for single-event traumas or at least trauma that u like, remember

and i feel like being able to talk out loud abt stuff would help me. like having another person to bounce my thoughts off of whos not like. a friend. and is able to deal w that kind of thing. and is also paid to do so. And can also help me like. recognize when im being insane. but also Wont assume im being insane and that all my thoughts are fucking cognitive distortions

idk its just exhausting trying to figure out What i even want from therapy other than to Feel Better and stop losing entire months of my life sometimes and to be able to like. make phone calls and talk to people and not feel evil and insane all the time. and to be able to live away from my parents and have a life, whether that involves Employment or not. one of my short-term goals in therapy w a long term therapist would explicitly be to decide my long term goals and how i'll know i met them. bc i think talking abt the therapeutic relationship w my therapist up front is something that would benefit me. due to the avoidance.

idk. wgat everrrr.

[l3nnyw1thencr0w]

I just want to write smth bru, all the character inside this draft is my ocs, no betareader no anything, pray for me🙏

It is extremely hard to distinguish between a remarkable clothmaker and a maniac, the line between them are rather thin. Francis knows that—because she is one of the above.

The clock keeps ticking, sunlight can barely shine through the windows, leaving little to no light inside the room. Thread and cloths laying everywhere, strings connecting to each other in a messy, awkward way and if you squint close enough, you could see Francis’ last sanity hiding somewhere between those lines. Even with the sound of shoe clacking on the ground growing louder every second, Francis doesn’t seem to notice.

“Francis dear, maybe it’s time for a break, really. It has been 5 hours since we talked.”

Voice ranging through the room, the voice wasn’t unfamiliar, it was, but that is a problem to Francis. Cause that god forsaken voice and tone could only be from Harper, a charming lady underneath but it’s covered by a massive ego that made her look hideous in Francis’ eyes right now. The clothmaker only lets out a sigh, her eyes don’t even dart to Harper for a second. She doesn’t have a reason to. Though, even with the sign of uninterested and clear annoyance, Harper makes no move to back down, she doesn’t want to. She move around the place, touching the cloth and dresses Francis has made. Fingers rubbing against the fabric, thinking about all the ideas that the clothmaker said. Though, her thoughts were cut short but Francis pulling the fabric away.

“We did talk, thats what matters anyways.”

“You said i should choked myself with my stupid and ugly brick-like tail. Don’t you think it’s a tad bit mean?”

“Better than nothing.”

Harper lets out a huff and there was a moment of peaceful silence that Francis gets to enjoy before she hears a snobbish rich voice again. This time however, Harper is standing right next to her, arms crossed, looking like a child, just waiting for something to happen.

“i think i deserve an apology.”

Francis audibly chokes on air as she turn back to Harper, her eyes slightly wide. The reaction makes Harper rolls her eyes annoyingly . She is aware that her clothmaker would be dying on the spot laughing if it weren’t for the fact that Francis is clinging onto Harper’s money to live. Usually, Harper wouldn’t batch an eye, why would she? it’s just someone wishing death upon her—no big deal. But it has been happening for the last 2 weeks.

“sorry for hurting your sensitive feelings.”

Francis says casually as she hold a few cloths in her hands, sewing it together. Harper’s eyes narrowed slightly, trying to remember all the fights they have before that 2 weeks of Francis tormenting Harper’s ego and mental health. There was one about ovens, fabrics being stolen, the bedroom pillows being too hard, headache, moods but none of them are really that important, they could have all of those fights in one day and they will probably kiss each other goodnight and share the same blanket without any problem that same day. Well, there is one that Harper hasn’t mentioned.

“are you sad about the toucan painting in our living room got dirty?”

Harper asks, waiting for a few seconds looking at Francis, who was sewing, suddenly stops and turns to Harper, putting all the cloths away.

“you did that in purpose! No one flings their pudding in a toucan painting so precisely that it only hits the eye!”

Francis raised her voice as Harper groans. And there she was, the only one being criticised for acting dramatic when her clothmaker get to hates her for a whole 2 weeks. Harper hates the way the toucan always looks at them when she is trying to kiss Francis. And at night when Harper was drunk, she could felt the toucan staring at her so maniacally. Its both scary and annoying to deal with. But Francis just has to love the stupid painting so much. So Harper thought pretending that it was an accident would be the perfect solution—she never thinks there would be a day where her little accident looks too perfect and lead her to her own demise.

“Well maybe the toucan should stops being all weird if it doesn’t want its eyes to be blinded by pudding!”

Francis wasn’t surprised by the sudden confession albeit a bit surprised by the loud voice. Harper did lower her voice when she noticed Francis moving away a bit. The clothmaker wasn’t over her precious toucan painting but laying in bed with her back toward Harper for weeks have been boring.

“could’ve moved the painting away.”

Francis says annoyingly, looking at Harper with narrowed eyes and a frown. Really, Harper doesn’t understand why Francis likes the painting so much. But nonetheless, Francis likes it.

“I could paint you a new one, with its eyes closed.”

Harper says, slowly moving her hand to cups Francis’ cheek before pulling her lips to kiss her forehead, and hold her close after a full 2 weeks of getting absolutely nothing. Francis takes a moment to soak in all the affection Harper is giving her and will give her after this. The clothmaker moves her hands, gently placing them to Harper’s waist and pull herself in for a small fleeting lips kiss.

“it wont be in the living room anymore, will it?”

The question was left unanswered but a few days later, there was a new painting of a toucan resting in the hallway. Francis can only imagined what Harper looked when she have to get a cup of water in the middle of the night when saw this.

Francis wonders sometime if her job is driving her crazy or it’s the noblewoman she is working for

[kyalosblog]

The poor man's cross

Poverty is like the stench of death. It's hard to ward off, people notice it, they feel its presence without even having to know its backstory. Women can tell a poor man straight away. It's in the posture, the hesitance to speak freely lest one put a price on words. The hunched shoulders as if weights unknown are being carried. There's the fear in the poor man's eyes, fear of losing the little that they have. You can see it in the eyes of the man going through his woman's phone, seeking proof that a better man, a well to do man, is after his lamb.

And if said proof is found? He'd rage and froth at the mouth. Clutch and tag at his hair with anguish and deep sorrow as if this poor life wasn't meant to be his. As if fate has played a cruel joke on him that is repeated each time lest he forget it, without a care of whether or not he gets the joke.

There are things you can do if you're a poor person and you don't want to suffer under the weight of being regarded as poor. Do you currently have no idea what a savings account is? Is three dollars a fortune to you? If someone drops a coin will you step on it and proceed to stand there for hours on end until the person who'd dropped the coin leaves? This article is for you. I have been where you are and boy do I have news for you. It's going to get harder.

The problem with mankind is how eager we are to compare ourselves. You're hungry, you haven't eaten for three days. You take out your phone and go and check out videos of people feasting on the succulent flesh of roast ham and you say to yourself. 'I wish I was them.' You're an idiot. What are you doing owning a phone while you're hungry? Sell the phone. Buy a sack of maize flour and live off that while you try and find someone who'll buy your kidney.

They say poverty is a mindset. A scarcity mindset to be specific. You always lack. You don't have money to add on to the bill yet you're there drinking and smiling like a stupid lunatic. Wet lips gleaming with borrowed liquor. Nodding your head hard whenever those buying the drinks offer a point. One of them remarks, 'The state of affairs is damning!' And you raise the glass to your lips and sip without thought until you realize they are looking at you for input regarding the state of affairs and you with your insecure poverty stricken mindset, open your mouth and blabber on without shame. 'Yes, married people and their damn affairs sheesh!' And you continue to drink with no shame.

The scarcity mindset is so severe that your braincells just give up. You find yourself avoiding to think about anything for fear of the stench of poverty your thought waves may give out. Hope becomes a rumor, something heard of but scarcely felt. You hear about your cousins abroad from your parents who are doing something with computers and starting million dollar companies. Yet there you are, on a thin mattress everyday, healthy as a horse yet playing the role of bedridden because there's absolutely nothing else you're good for.

Your parents have given up on you. The local priest has given up on you. The children of your neighbors  have given up on you. So far the only person who believes in you is the village lunatic who always sees you coming from a mile away and comes running to you, arms spread wide, tattered rust colored garments flapping in the wind while crying out. "My brother! My friend!" And you have to stomach his stench as he pulls you into an embrace and asks you how you're doing because he sees himself in you. Like you're a prospect, a village lunatic prospect.

The worst part about all this is that a part of you feels like this will end. That somewhere out there, there's an end to the rainbow and there you'll find your pot of gold. A placed bet perhaps, or a dead relative leaving behind land. Something... Anything to transform your life into something worth talking about. Anything to ensure the girl you won over using speech will stay because of the paper.

But as time edges forward and streaks of grey mark and tease about your hair and the lines across your face farrow deeper and your back bends and hands become knobbed. You realize that there's no end to the nightmare because the rich get richer and the poor stay poor so you decide to take matters into your own hands and go against the law. Which is the quickest and surest way to make big money fast

But the scarcity mindset and the dead braincells can't help you with proper ideas on how to steal like a politician would so you end up robbing people in the dead of night with the same knife you use to cut tomatoes for tomato soup and you get caught and convicted.

So now you're sitting in a dingy cell you're sharing with a guy who killed his mother, wife and children before having sex with a goat. And you hear your cell mate grunt and heave each night as he ferociously masturbates to thoughts of grandeur and all you can do is stay silent hoping he doesn't take note of your existence. And then you feel the self pitty with a dash of melancholy and the tears stream down your eyes and you find yourself wishing that someone out there will pay to hear your story because you're poor and that's all you can think about.

#creativewriting #writing #funnystory #writersblog #blog #creativewriting

[russilton]

I think there is also a problem in the Mercedes media (I don’t know what to call it correctly, PR department??) I don’t understand what they want to achieve, I understand they are shifting attention to their future racer and that’s understandable, but you don’t have to put on this whole show? This is unprofessional and literally a shot in their head, like we literally have a Ferrari with Sainz and everything is fine with them

I don’t think they’re putting a show on purpose, I think it’s half being given a shitty hand and half fumbling the hand they were given

The key difference between Carlos and Lewis is that Lewis chose to walk, Carlos was fired. The energy is different. Carlos doesn’t have a team to go to and acting anything less than like a good team player reduces his hireability, though his PR team is thoroughly shooting themselves in the leg by continuing to leak his offers. I would put money down it was his team that leaked the Lewis news in the first place, they have more holes in them than a sieve someone took a shotgun too. But I digress.

The team are stuck in a rock and a hard place and at the head of it making them remain there is Toto. Every third word from him is more and more confusion and water muddying about who’s going to place in the seat. It makes both George and Lewis look shit, and fires up their bases to continue the belief that their drivers are being ignored or demeaned. The car being shit means everyone is pointing fingers at who’s at fault, the drivers are frustrated, the media is hounding them — the fact I have five different quotes about George saying Lewis is the teammate he wants shows you how much he’s been asked. The fans are frustrated their drivers are frustrated and the small minority who think they can shout their way to a better car are going to yell like their lives depend on it.

This is the shit hand. I wouldn’t know how to manage that on a good day, let alone week in week out confusion about where you will place each race, the monetary commitments to sponsors, protecting your drivers privacy while getting content- there’s a reason mick and fred are the ones rolling around on the floor doing tiktoks not george and Lewis— it’s their job to manage this but it doesn’t make it easy.

And they are fumbling the shit out of it. There’s so many stupid mistakes like the idiotic podium tweets, the bad blocking choices, the focus on mechanics rather than posting about drivers and behind the scenes people want to see. Just today we got Lewis bullying the garage for their song choices, and the groundhog video, they clearly have sweet content to post they just refuse to do it for some reason.

But at the end of all of this it’s fucking twitter, people are spending far, far too much time obsessing over it. The drivers don’t care about what the fucking merc socials are posting, we have to accept that. People cling to it because it’s the closest link we have to them and it ends up representing the voice people put to Mercedes, but Dan paddock or whoever the fucks running the twitter these days has 0 say in the management choices of merc as a whole, it’s just some admin who’s at work. You can’t use the socials as a direct informant on how merc is managing its drivers because that’s just not how it works.

And please (not you specifically but in general) stop counting social media posts. I haven’t met a person who does who is happy but I’ve sure met plenty who let it drive them fucking insane. And I’m talking the George fans who used to cry that they didn’t post enough about him every week- the irony is astounding.

That’s all I have to say about merc socials anymore honestly, I just don’t think it matters. You’re talking to the guy they posted art without credit from once, I know they fumble shit on the reg. Unless they start posting unrelenting pride tweets or shit like Hamrussy again, they’re not gonna be doing what I want anyway