#you might learn better ways of doing things

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

This is my favorite one, because yeah, he probably would fucking say that, but how? Under what circumstances? What will it take for him to conceivably fucking say that? The situation most certainly exists, the question is, can I as a writer first discover this circumstance, then secondly can I write it in convincingly enough for the nay-sayers who are admittedly a bit boring and narrow-minded and forget that dynamic characters should, indeed, be dynamic and sometimes behave out of character, much like real human people behave out of character under certain circumstances?

The answer to would he fucking say that is almost always yes.

The answer to can I write him fucking saying that? Is a much trickier thing.

would he fucking say that? let's investigate.

[unicornofgt]

alright, i am the writer of gtms, this story and these characters, bagley and obermann, belong to me. i am the only one who has a seat at my table, who gets a say on what happens to my work. today, some of you will be learning this the hard way.

i am not rehashing the entire series of events that led us here. all you need to know is this is my work that is being desecrated and yeah, i am going to be a little fucking mean about it, because i have taken shit like this for far too long. it’s clear some of you are begging for attention, but be careful what you wish for. fuck around and find out—you poke the bear, you get mauled.

@norathewatcher hi you spineless bitch. you are bringing nothing back. i don’t give a fuck if you’re goddamn michelangelo. you are not “reviving a fandom” you are fucking stealing. there is no fandom, there never was a fandom, this is not a big media like star wars or disney, it was a small passion project by an independent writer posted for funsies. it was treated like big media by a handful of individuals and that is WHY the project stopped, though i have a feeling you know this shit already, don’t you?

but death of the author! you cry in excuse. do i sound fucking dead to you. death of the author is for long dead, problematic authors so we are able to discuss the cultural relevance of their work, not to enable you stealing shit off of tumblr dot com. this is not you “simply filling the vacuum” this is you feeling fucking entitled to the existence of my work and my characters and ultimately, me, for your consumption. you are not owed gtms. it is not a given that this shit needs to exist for you. it is not “content” you “deserve.” like any work shared, it was a privilege to be able to enjoy what i posted of my labor of love, but this is how privileges work: they can be taken away when abused. you are not an artist, you are a spoiled fucking brat with zero dignity or integrity, loyal to nothing but your own greed. fuck off.

i made it explicitly clear in my final post leaving this community that the cause was not a single person or situation but because the community itself is fucking. rancid. the mindset that led to this shitshow is an enormous reason why i left, in addition to the bigotry running rampant—all of which is still alive and well here, though you might think you don’t see it. what you are doing now is having the complete opposite effect of your stated goals. the only thing you have accomplished is digging your own grave, and like a vengeful spirit, i am back to put you in the ground. i am telling you to shut the fuck up, and then i am going back to my happy little life without this fucking circus.

as for the rest of you. i’m sure some of you had no idea what the original situation was, but to those of you who know better and support this garbage anyway, shame on your fucking soul. are you all so fucking hungry for your slop you’ll take it from fucking anybody? eat shit.

get the fuck off my lawn.

[melanchoire]

Reader has an oral fixation and is usually sucking on lollipops to soothe the fixation but when there’s none for her to fixate on her girlfriend (Karina)offers to help her out by letting her suck on her boobs/breasts/tits(idk which to use lol)

BETTER THAN SWEETS ──── yu jimin

── ( 🍨 ) you’ve always found comfort in the sweet, hard shell of a lollipop, the constant motion a balm for your restless mind; however, your chronic oral fixation, fueled by an endless supply of lollipops and the incessant schmack of your chewing, has finally pushed karina, your girlfriend, to the edge; one night, instead of nagging or leaving, she takes matters (and your mouth) into her own hands, devising an intensely sensual and shockingly effective intervention that will challenge everything you think you know about your desires… and maybe even her own.

pairing. soft dom!girlfriend!karina x sub!girlfriend!fem reader

warning(s). nipple play, titsucking, oral fixation, suggestive at the end.

word count. 2,5k

the flicker of the television screen dances on the walls, a pale blue glow that does little to illuminate the comfortable clutter of your apartment. karina is lost in the endless scroll of her phone, the soft tap–tap–tapping a counterpoint to the quiet hum of the refrigerator. you barely register the movie playing on the screen, your world narrowed to the sweet, artificial cherry flavor coating your tongue. this is your haven, this small, sugary escape. you’ve always found comfort in the act of sucking, chewing, the sensation of something in your mouth, and a lollipop is a perfect, portable solution.

the sweetness coats your tongue, a familiar comfort, a sensory anchor in the mundane. you run the hard candy over your teeth, licking the sugary surface, the rhythmic sound of your enjoyment filling the space. it’s always been like this. when you were a child, you were a magnet for well–meaning adults, hands filled with sugary treats, happy to indulge your insatiable sweet tooth. it was a simple, innocent pleasure then; grandparents would slip you hard candies, aunts would press chocolates into your palms, and the world felt like a giant, edible playground.

but then you grew up, and your habits, like everything else, evolved. the candies became gum, then lollipops, then the nervous gnawing of pen caps during class. you knew it was a quirk, an oddity, but it was a part of you, and you’d learned to live with it, mostly.

you steal a glance at karina, lost in the glow of her phone screen. you’re grateful for her understanding, her acceptance when you first hesitantly confessed your “problem” as you sometimes called it. to her, it was just another habit, like the way she always rearranged the throw pillows on the couch or how she had to have the radio on while she was showering. “everyone had their things” she had said.

but tonight, the silence of the apartment is suddenly broken by the thunk of her phone hitting the coffee table. you’re pulled from your sugary reverie as her eyes, a deep, startling brown, land on you. her face is devoid of expression, an unsettling blankness that makes your stomach clench.

karina throws her phone onto the coffee table, the sudden clatter startling you. she turns to you, her eyes fixed on you, her expression unreadable, blank. “do you have to chew it like that?” her voice is flat, devoid of the usual warmth. “like you’re a horse eating grass or something?”

the question catches you off guard. you pull the lollipop from your mouth, the sweet, cherry scent still lingering in the air. “was i… making a lot of noise?” you hadn’t noticed, lost in the comfort of the familiar flavor and the rhythmic motions. you’d been so focused on the simple act, you hadn't even considered that it might grate on someone else.

she folds her arms, her gaze intense. “It’s like… i can hear you slurping it from across the room.”

you set the lollipop on the table, the plastic stick clicking softly against the glass. “sorry, i didn’t realize.”

a moment of silence hangs between you, thick and uncomfortable. then, she asks, “how long have you had that thing? you opened it this morning, right?”

your heart sinks a little. you know she means well; she’s always been concerned about your well–being. but this feels different, like a criticism. “uhm, actually.” you admit. “i had more than one.”

her eyebrows shoot up, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “more than one? how many more?” she asks, incredulous. “you didn’t even eat lunch. how are you not sick?”

you nod, avoiding her eyes, suddenly feeling like a misbehaving child caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “i… i don’t know...” you can’t bring yourself to look at her. “i think— three? maybe four?”

a sharp intake of breath. “four lollipops? today? that’s… a lot of sugar, isn’t it?”

you feel a prickle of defensiveness. “it’s not like i’m eating them all at once!” you quickly add: “mostly.”

she looks at you, a mixture of exasperation and worry swirling in her eyes. “okay...” she says, her voice calmer. “okay... you know, i used to buy you those boxes of lollipops, because i thought it was… helpful, to allow it. i never thought you did it so much.”

you’re immediately sheepish. it wasn’t to hurt. you never thought you did it that much.

you shrug, a little sheepish. you know it’s a lot of sugar, but it’s not about the sugar, not really. It’s the sensation, the movement, the comfort. you carefully remove the lollipop, leaving it on the coffee table, discarded like a toy that has outlived its use. you were about to reach for it but she called you over.

“come here.” she gestures for you to come closer. you obey, your heart pounding a strange mix of nervousness and anticipation. you settle onto her lap, the soft fabric of her pajamas a welcome contrast to the sudden tension — along with the gentle pressure of her thighs against yours sends a shiver down your spine.

her hands find your hips, her fingers tracing gentle circles on your sides. she smiles, that slow, mesmerizing smile that always sends shivers down your spine.

her voice, usually laced with warmth and amusement, is now a husky whisper that makes your skin prickle. “maybe…maybe we could try something different.” she purrs, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of your hip, but moving away from your curves and towards her own pajama shirt.

the buttons of her pajama shirt yield to her nimble fingers, one by one, until the silk falls away, revealing the soft, pale expanse of her chest. the sight of her breasts, full and inviting, sends a jolt of heat through your veins. they look… edible. the thought, unbidden, makes you blush.

her fingers dance over your skin, sending sparks of desire through your veins. “think you can help me out with that?” she asks, her fingers trailing up your sides in a light caress. “try something new?”

your gaze is fixated on her chest, your mouth suddenly dry. the craving you usually satisfied with sweets takes on a new, almost overwhelming intensity. it’s not just about the taste or texture anymore, it’s about something deeper, a connection. you nod, your own hands reaching up to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin.

karina leans closer, her gaze locking onto yours. “I’ve always wondered if you…” she hesitates, a shy smile playing on her lips. “if you’d like to try this.” her hands, now gripping your hips with more purpose, guide you forward. your face is level with her chest now, the faint scent of her skin and vanilla lotion filling your senses.

a soft gasp escapes you as she gently pushes your head forward, her fingers threading through your hair, guiding you toward her right breast. it feels incredibly soft against your cheek, warm and pliant. you hesitate for a moment, still processing the sudden turn this night has taken. but then, she strokes your hair again, her low hum vibrating through her chest, and the last vestiges of hesitation melt away.

you open your mouth, and with a nervous, almost reverent gentleness, you take her nipple into your mouth. it’s softer and warmer than anything you’ve ever tasted.

she leans her head back against the sofa, a soft moan escaping her lips as your mouth finally reaches her. the skin is soft and warm, and as you gently suck, the taste is intoxicating, a combination of her soft skin, warm body temperature, and the subtle, almost salty flavor of her sweat. a tiny gasp as you explore her. the feeling is overwhelming, the warmth and softness nothing like the artificial sweetness you usually crave, and you find yourself drawn in, completely captivated.

her hands tangle in your hair, her fingers gripping and massaging your scalp as you continue. you suck on her nipple, your lips moving in a gentle way that she deeply appreciates. her skin is supple and soft, the perfect texture just for you. you suckle gently, your tongue dancing over her nipple, reveling in the sounds escaping her lips: moans of pleasure mixed with soft sighs.

your tongue circles the areola, exploring the texture of her skin, before you begin to suckle more. it’s not a frantic, desperate need, but a slow, deliberate exploration, as if your mouth is mapping every inch of her. with each delicate tug, a wave of pleasure washes over you, and the gentle hums escaping karina’s throat become more pronounced, a clear indication that you are doing something right.

“oh, baby.” she murmurs, her voice thick with a mixture of pleasure and wonder. “that feels… incredible.”

you continue, drawing her nipple further into your mouth, your lips caressing the sensitive skin. you suckle harder, the gentle tugging a source of immense satisfaction. the taste of her skin is subtle, slightly salty and warm, and it mixes with the faint scent of her vanilla lotion, creating an intoxicating combination. you move back and forth, letting your tongue flick over her nipple, the soft rasp driving her wild.

“you’re so good.” she whispers, her hands moving from your hair to your back, pulling you closer, her nails lightly scratching at your skin. “you have such a gentle mouth, baby. i love the way you’re doing this." her words, a gentle wave of praise, makes you want to continue, to explore every inch of her, to taste her entire body.

you try to deepen your hold, your hands cupping her breast, trying to draw her closer, as if to meld yourselves. the sensations are overwhelming, and so you concentrate your efforts on pleasing her. you suck a little harder and she moans again.

“you’re so good.” she says, her voice breathless. “so, so good. i love how you do that.”

you shift to her other breast, teasing and tantalizing her nipple, drawing out soft groans and shivers from her. the low hum of her pleasure is a melody you find yourself wanting to replay forever. you lick, you suck, you nibble, exploring every inch with your mouth, finding satisfaction in her pleasure.

“yes...” she breathes out. “that’s it. you’re making me crazy.”

as you continue to suckle, the tension in your shoulders starts to melt away. it’s like you’ve found the perfect substitute for the lollipops, a new and infinitely more satisfying way to soothe your oral fixation. you’re not just filling a need, you’re connecting with karina on a deeply intimate level, sharing a moment of vulnerability and pleasure. her skin is soft against your lips, her heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your cheek, and each delicate suck brings her closer to you, and you to her.

you pause for a moment, looking up at her. Her eyes are half–closed, her lips parted, and your skin tingles with the power that your mouth has over her. she looks beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly in your thrall.

“you’re my little baby.” she murmurs, her fingers tracing the line of your cheek, and she pulls you back to her chest. the sweetness of her skin fills your mouth as you continue to suck, your desire finding not just release, but connection and genuine, deep intimacy. this is so much better than any lollipop could offer, and you know, in this moment, that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

oh, and that’s what makes you completely lose the little sanity that was still present in your system.

your hand, almost instinctively, seeks the other breast. you cup it gently, the weight a grounding sensation. you press your face further into the first, inhaling the scent of her skin, a warm mix of vanilla and something uniquely karina. it’s a comfort, a balm for a restless soul. you find yourself tracing the areola with your tongue, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine, not of sexual arousal, but of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

karina doesn’t react at first, content to let you have your moment of quiet bliss. but then, you start to get silly. it’s not intentional, not exactly. it’s like a switch flips, and the playful, somewhat childish side of you takes over. you don’t realize it, but you accidentally start drooling on her skin, your attention on her mounds becoming more messy, your hand now moving to grasp the second breast. it’s a clumsy hold, a little too tight, but somehow right. you pull the other one closer to your mouth.

this is where things take a turn. you try to hold each of her breasts cupped in your hands while trying to keep the other one in your mouth. you’re like a newborn, trying to coordinate your limbs, and she can’t help but burst into laughter. it’s a bubbly, infectious sound, the kind that warms your chest from the inside out. it’s not mockery, but genuine amusement, and something that makes her whole face shine.

you lift your head, a little confused by the sudden sound. you see her face, lit up with laughter, her eyes sparkling with mirth. it’s both disarming and strangely endearing. your usual self might be mortified, but in this moment, you find yourself beaming back at her. you look like a little kid who's just found the best toy in history. you even try to nuzzle back into her chest, trying to recapture the feeling, but she gently pushes you back slightly, still chuckling.

“alright, you little baby.” she says, her voice laced with a playful tenderness. “i think that’s enough now.” you try to move back into position, reaching for them again, but she holds you back. this time, there's a sparkle of something more in her eyes.

she gently but firmly pushes you away from her chest, her hands now resting on your shoulders. your lower lip pouts out, and you make a grab for her breast, your face now a mask of mock desperation.

“no, no, no.” she says, shaking her head, “that’s enough. it’s time to move on.”

you whine, a low sound of protest that somehow manages to sound both comical and needy. you try to nuzzle back, your hands searching for a familiar grip. but she’s firm, her hands a gentle but impassable barrier.

“oh, don’t give me that face.” she says, her eyes dancing with mischief. “i have something planned, and it’s time to go to the bedroom.”

a slow smile spreads across your face, a sudden rush of excitement replacing your earlier silliness. you can’t help but notice the way her eyes are sparkling, the promise that lingers in her voice, and your heart skips a beat.

"the bedroom?" you ask, your voice a husky whisper, no longer childish.

karina smiles, a slow, knowing smile that sends shivers down your spine. she takes your hand, pulls you to your feet, and tugs you towards the bedroom. “yes, the bedroom,” she repeats, her eyes never leaving yours, “now, come on.”

and as she leads you away, the lingering scent of her perfume still clinging to your skin, you feel a thrill of anticipation wash over you.

based on her smile, you can’t tell if that means she’ll let you fuck her with the strap–on in missionary to have her tits bouncing in front of your face and do whatever you want with them or she’ll fuck you with the strap and put two fingers in your mouth when she feels you’re being too loud.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Super quick thoughts on how each of these players would respond to some guy being handsy/creepy towards you in a bar

Quinn Hughes

Quinn's not the most possessive or confrontational guy, he's pretty chill in general, but there's one thing he'll never tolerate and that's you being disrespected. He's not stepping in when the guy who's been eyeing you all night starts to try and get handsy with you because he's staking a claim, he's stepping in because he knows you're uncomfortable, because he can see that the guy keeps ignoring your words to him, the way you shoo him and shake your head. The way you tell him you're taken and not interested. It's the disrespect that has him stepping up because no one can get away with disrespecting his girl, just not happening.

He's casual about it, just shoves his way casually between the two of you, a light shoulder check to the guy who has to take a step back, he's almost confused by how casual it is, like he doesn't know what to do. Quinn turns his back to the guy, and focuses on you instead. The blatant disregard for the other man a signal all of its own.

"Hey, baby, you ready to go home?" You latch onto him so quick, head nodding in confirmation before he's ushering you calmly out of the bar like nothing ever even happened.

The truth is Quinn might not start fights over you, but he doesn't need to. He commands a room pretty easy and makes himself known and clear without the need to throw a punch. Who's going to try and challenge the very well known face of the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks in his own city? Half the bar would be on his side in an instant, lost cause for the other guy.

Jack Hughes

He's gone for five fucking seconds. He only went to go get your jacket from your friend so the two of you could leave, expecting that you'd be fine for the short stretch of time if he left you by the door. When he comes back some fucking asshole is leaning over you, invading your space while you practically try to burrow into the wall behind you.

He doesn't really think fucking twice when be taps Timo on the shoulder as he passes, a little head nod in your direction, before fully body checking the guy off of you. It takes one hard shove with his shoulder, a full contact whole side shoulder to hip shove, but the guy goes flying into a table, someone's beer flying all over him while Jack pushes his hair back out of his face.

"The fuck you think you're doing?" He's bolshier than he normally would be for a couple of reasons; 1) he's had a couple drinks, 2) Timo is stood behind him like a fucking brick wall, and 3) his girlfriend does not get treated like that by some random bum in a bar.

It doesn't actually matter if the guy wants to fight him or not, cause Jack wants to fight him and he's deliberately provocative until a punch is thrown and he has an excuse to swing back.

Later you'll tell him off for not leaving it and he'll spend the night marking your neck up all pretty in purple and red hickeys so the next guy knows better than to even look at you.

Luke Hughes

Luke likes to think he's a guy with a pretty cool head, he's not a fighter and he's not overly confrontational...although guys seem to want to fight him all the time because of his height. That's made him pretty good at defusing tension and avoiding fights, a skill he had to learn the moment he grew past 6ft. So when he sees the guy next to you at the bar start to lean into your space, he watches for a bit, trusts you to handle it.

You try to, he can see the way you shift away, the way you tell the guy to back up, that you're not interested, but he just doesn't seem to get the hint. It's when you physically put a hand up between the two of you and shove him back that Luke realises he's got to step in.

He's more of a redirection kind of guy, then a throw a punch kind of guy, so he's got his hands on your waist gentle lifting you off the stool and onto the next one, taking your space instead. Suddenly the guy has to lean around him to talk to you, but Luke's already striking up a conversation about the guy's Chiefs jersey and before you know it Luke's managed to extricate the two of you without even a raised word.

The only sign that anything untoward had even occurred was the tightness in Luke's shoulders as he leads you away, the preparedness to take that extra step if he has to. But, fuck he hates fighting, so he'll always try to make sure you're safe and comfortable without it if he can. He's gotten pretty good at it.

Clayton Keller

He's always got his eyes on you whenever you go out, it's a given. No matter where you are, no matter how many people are around he knows where you are and always has one eye on you to make sure you're okay, that you're comfortable.

Normally he'd be the one going up to the bar to get a drink for you, but he'd gone to the toilet and you must have gotten thirsty and decided to just go grab a drink yourself. When he finally see you at the bar, you're leaning as far away as possible from a guy clearly leering down at your breasts in your dress.

You're unable to get particularly far, trapped between the man and the bar top and Clayton doesn't really think twice about storming over. He barely thinks before shoving the guy hard enough to dislodge him from his position over you, sending the guy stumbling.

Clayton puts himself between you and the man, glaring at him despite being the shorter of the two. It doesn't really matter to him, this guy looks like he barely goes to the gym and Clayton spends all day every day playing an intense physical sport. He can fight. He's not shy about it either.

If they guy doesn't back up then Clayton's always ready to throw a punch for you. You're his girl and you don't deserve to be treated like that. By anyone.

Kiefer Sherwood

Kiefer's not shy about getting in another man's face for being a creep. It doesn't matter if it's you being treated like that or some random woman he doesn't know. He spends most of his days on the ice, shoving guys into boards and throwing his gloves down on the ice. He has zero qualms about it then the douchebag in the bar tries to grab your ass on the way past.

The moment that hand snaps out to grab you, Kief's hand is grabbing the guys wrist and wrenching it so far back he hears a pop, letting it drop. He doesn't back down when the guy's friends start to get up, doesn't back down when one of them throws a punch, just rolls his sleeves up and gets to work after gently pushing you out the way towards your friend.

The truth is he comes away with a busted lip, some stitches in his brow and another missing tooth he's going to have to pay to get replaced, but he'll do it again, any time, because you're his girl and even past that you deserve to be treated with respect as a human. No one has the right to just touch you like that, not even he has the right to do that without your permission.

So yeah, you can wear what you want, do what you want, cause Kief can fight.

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ (More) Vi dating headcanons ✞⛧

✞⛧ Vi is notoriously bad at maintaining a healthy sleep schedule. If she’s obsessing over a problem or working herself into the ground, you often have to physically pull her to bed. She’s stubborn but secretly loves when you care enough to do it.

✞⛧ Vi’s not great with plants—she over-waters them or forgets entirely. But if you’re into it, she’ll help you pick some out and even pretend she knows what she’s doing to impress you.

✞⛧ Pets, though, are a different story. Vi would bond instantly with a scrappy stray dog or a mischievous cat, seeing herself in their rough edges. She’d bring one home without asking, with some excuse like, “He followed me. Guess he’s ours now.”

✞⛧ Vi prefers showers—quick, efficient, and no-nonsense—but she’ll linger if you’re with her. She loves scrubbing your hair or pressing her lips against the back of your neck under the warm spray.

✞⛧ Baths aren’t really her thing, but if you’re into them, she’ll begrudgingly join, claiming, “This is ridiculous,” even as she sneaks an arm around your waist.

✞⛧ Vi is surprisingly low maintenance, but she’s the one doing all the maintenance for you. She’s protective and attentive to the point of being a little overbearing, constantly checking if you’re okay.

✞⛧ You might be higher maintenance in some ways (maybe emotionally or with small comforts), but Vi doesn’t mind at all. She thrives on taking care of you, even if she grumbles.

✞⛧ Dating Vi is like dating a firework: she’s intense, bold, and unpredictable, but she always lights up your world in the best way.

✞⛧ Vi loves surprises—both giving and receiving. She’ll randomly whisk you away to explore Zaun’s hidden gems or bring you a cool trinket she found while out.

✞⛧ Her idea of romance isn’t overly traditional. Candlelit dinners? Probably not her style. But a rooftop picnic overlooking Piltover’s skyline? Absolutely.

✞⛧ When she does try to be romantic, it’s often in her own clumsy way. She might fumble her words or get embarrassed, but it only makes her sweeter.

✞⛧ Vi’s hot-headed and stubborn, so arguments can get intense. She’s not afraid to stand her ground, but she’ll always come back to you once she’s cooled off.

✞⛧ She hates feeling like she’s let you down and will go out of her way to make things right, even if it means swallowing her pride.

✞⛧ If you’re upset with her, she’ll try to fix it immediately. She can’t stand the thought of you being mad at her for too long.

✞⛧ Vi loves spending time with you doing low-key activities, like lounging on the couch or working out together. She’ll get competitive but will always let you win (sometimes).

✞⛧ She’ll teach you how to fight if you want to learn. It starts as a fun sparring session but quickly devolves into her trying to pin you down just to fluster you.

✞⛧ Vi likes to take you on adventures—rooftop runs, sneaking into Piltover for a night out, or even just exploring the Lanes. Every outing with her feels like an adrenaline rush.

✞⛧ She’s surprisingly domestic when she’s with you. If you’re having a bad day, she’ll clean up around the house, cook (terribly, but it’s the thought that counts), or just sit and hold you until you feel better.

✞⛧ Vi is incredibly touchy. Whether it’s holding your hand, resting her arm around your shoulders, or pulling you into her lap, she loves having you close.

✞⛧ Her favorite way to unwind after a long day is cuddling with you. She’ll lie on the couch with you sprawled across her chest, playing with your hair or rubbing your back.

✞⛧ She’s not shy about PDA. She wants everyone to know you’re hers and won’t hesitate to kiss you in public or throw an arm around your waist.

✞⛧ Vi melts when you kiss her scars or tell her how much you love her. It’s one of the few times she’s at a loss for words.

✞⛧ Vi has an adorable soft side that only comes out around you. She’ll grumble if you point it out, but she secretly loves it when you make her feel safe enough to be vulnerable.

✞⛧ She’s great at hyping you up. Whether you’re nervous about something or just feeling down, Vi’s always there to remind you how amazing you are.

✞⛧ She doesn’t need grand gestures or fancy gifts. Just knowing you love her is enough to make her the happiest girl in Zaun.

Nsfw:

✞⛧ Vi’s the initiator most of the time, whether it’s date nights, spontaneous adventures, or more intimate moments. She’s bold and thrives on taking charge.

✞⛧ However, she adores when you surprise her with ideas or take the lead. It’s rare to catch her off guard, so she’s impressed when you do.

✞⛧ Vi likes control and dominance in intimate moments, so if you lean toward topping her, there might be some playful power struggles. She’s open to compromise but gets frustrated if she feels her dominance is being challenged too often.

✞⛧ Vi’s protective instincts might make her resistant to anything that looks like risk or danger, even if it’s consensual (e.g., choking or restraint). You’d have to build trust for her to feel comfortable with it.

✞⛧ Vi’s a thrill-seeker, so she’d totally be down for something risky—like a quickie in the back of her favorite underground fighting ring after everyone’s gone or in some dark, forgotten alley in Zaun.

✞⛧ The oddest place might be on a rooftop overlooking Piltover, under the stars. Something about the combination of danger and intimacy excites her.

✞⛧ Vi loves positions where she can be in control, like pinning you against the wall or holding your wrists down while hovering above you.

✞⛧ She also enjoys more intimate positions like sitting on her lap, where she can hold you close and make eye contact.

✞⛧ Vi is naturally a dom/top. She thrives on control and loves the confidence boost of making you melt under her.

✞⛧ That said, she’s not entirely opposed to switching in rare, vulnerable moments. It takes a lot of trust for her to relinquish control, but if she does, it’s incredibly meaningful.

✞⛧Her clit is highly sensitive, and while she loves direct stimulation, she can get overstimulated quickly. She prefers a gradual build-up or mixing roughness with tenderness.

✞⛧ Vi is highly responsive to touch. She doesn’t hold back on showing when she’s enjoying something—moaning, growling, or letting out shaky breaths depending on the intensity.

✞⛧ Her neck and jawline are sensitive—kiss or bite there, and you’ll have her blushing or growling in seconds.

✞⛧ Vi also loves when you run your fingers down her scars or trace her tattoos. It makes her feel seen and loved in ways words can’t describe.

Quickest turn-ons? Immediate turn-offs?

✞⛧ Quick turn-ons: When you get feisty or challenge her, especially if you’re usually reserved. She loves seeing your confidence shine. Whispering something suggestive in her ear will also light a fire in her.

✞⛧ Immediate turn-offs: Dishonesty or manipulation. Vi values loyalty and trust above all else, and anything that feels fake or forced will kill the mood instantly.

✞⛧ Vi is deeply comfortable with her body and doesn’t put on airs. She doesn’t shy away from being naked around you, casually walking around or getting dressed without hesitation.

✞⛧Vi is surprisingly sweet after intimate moments, gently checking in with you to make sure you’re okay. She’s the type to make a joke like, “Still alive? That good, huh?” but follows it up by pulling you close or grabbing a warm towel for you.

✞⛧ Vi has a narrow, muscular waist with defined abs. Her hips are lean, not very pronounced, but still strong and firm from constant movement and training.

✞⛧ She’s comfortable with her figure and never feels the need to conform to traditional feminine beauty standards. If anything, she takes pride in her strong, compact build.

✞⛧ She loves when you trace her abs or rest your head on her stomach—it makes her feel appreciated for her strength in a softer, more intimate way.

✞⛧ Vi doesn’t give much thought to to her ass, but if you compliment or grab it, she’ll smirk and make a cheeky comment, like, “You like what you see, huh?”

✞⛧ Vi likely has smaller to medium-sized breasts due to her athletic build and lifestyle. They’re firm and well-supported by her strong chest muscles from years of fighting and physical activity.

✞⛧ She doesn’t pay much attention to them outside of practical needs. Sports bras are her go-to for comfort and functionality. Anything overly frilly or lacy would make her roll her eyes unless it’s for your amusement.

[delugyu]

hi!! i was wondering if i could request a one shot based on the GGUM mv where yeonjun is a cocky and bratty k pop idol that belittles everyone and basically the reader is like his mananger who’s had enough of his behavior and decides to teach him a lesson and he’s super submissive.

btw i LOVE your writing. cold, curse city was amazing <3

jumped for joy when i saw submissive yeonjun YAYYYYYYY (also thank you!!! hehe)

(wc: 2k / warnings: mean dom!reader, sub!yeonjun, reader’s kind of a bitch but yeonjun is too so it’s okay, degradation, humiliation, oral kinda idk eating pussy thru the panties, unprotected sex, edging..?)

you’re pretty sure that the biggest source of your headaches on any given day is the man you’re watching right now—on a tuesday at eight in the morning—who’s trying to convince you that the interviewer deserved it earlier when he called her an idiot.

“yeah, no. that’s never happening again,” you say plainly, cutting off his long-winded explanation. if only he could catch on when you’re trying to leave no room for argument, but unfortunately he has the most major case of lacking respect and decorum that you’ve ever seen.

“so you think it was okay for her to say that being bratty is my whole brand?” he asks.

“well, if you keep acting the way you do, then you can’t be surprised if that’s what people focus on.” you won’t lie: his brash personality is definitely good for gaining attention. his PR team never has to work too hard, since they know yeonjun’s going to do something stupid to get him on the news anyway. you’re jealous, cause you’re over here busting your ass to make sure he doesn’t go too far and ruin his career.

“i’d be selling a fake image if i was out there kissing babies and shaking hands,” yeonjun says.

“so the better alternative is running your mouth until half the country wants you beaten up?” you don’t want him to act like someone he’s not, but you also don’t want him to be such a dick to everyone.

“stop acting like you know me or the things i want,” he says. it lights a fire inside of you, rage burning at his insinuation. “i don’t want a nice, clean image. i fucking hate it when you try to force that onto me.”

he walks away into his dressing room, probably done with you and this conversation, but you’ve had it. you’re pissed, and he needs to learn that he doesn’t sit on top of the world. you mutter out quick apologies to the staff you push past in your haste to follow yeonjun.

before you can step into the room, yeonjun slams the door in front of your face. “yeonjun, are you fucking kidding me?!” you bang your fist against the door when turning the knob doesn’t work.

“go away,” he says from behind the door. you let out something like a growl in your frustration, feeling like you might just rip all your hair out. it’s too early to already be doing this.

“why do you throw fits every time i try to tell you to have some respect? you can never just bite your tongue for a second.”

you’re met with silence. you hate when he starts tuning you out. you’ll have to pop a few tylenols after this to keep your headache from killing you.

you start up once more, “you think anyone’s gonna look at your art before they look at you as a person? what’s the point in making good music if the person behind it is such a jackass?”

again, no reply. you sigh, running your hands down your face as you try to collect yourself. this isn’t worth it. he’s never going to change.

“i’m thinking i should just quit and let you deal with whatever asshole comes in after me,” you say, just trying to stir him into giving you a response now. you usually keep yourself from going back and forth with him like this, but he’s been on your nerves way too much recently. you were bound to explode with how much he’s been testing you.

the door finally opens. you don’t waste a second when you push it wider and enter the room, shutting it behind you. he’s crossing his arms, eyebrow raised like he’s waiting for you to scold him some more.

“you actually gonna quit, or was that all talk?” he asks.

you scowl and push on his shoulders until he’s sitting on one of the chairs. his eyes widen for a second like he’s surprised you actually put your hands on him. he should be grateful you don’t do worse.

“listen, i’m not going to take your shit anymore. i’m not giving you a choice. you need to have some respect.” you look down at him with ice cold eyes. he squirms a little in his seat; you almost find it funny.

“i don’t know how you expect me to do that. this is just how i am,” he counters.

“shutting your mouth would be a good start.” you put your hand over his lips when he opens them to start talking again. “see, you’re already trying to bark. just listen.”

you keep your hand there, and you’re kind of surprised that he doesn’t even try to move you away. your other hand grips the back of his chair so that you’re leaning over him, and you finally feel like you’re more powerful than him. you feel like he might listen to you for once.

“if you don’t want to be seen as a brat, then don’t be a brat,” you say. “you can have a tough image without annoying everyone. people see you more as a toddler than as some cool guy.”

his eyes dart down, and you realize that, with you leaning over him, he has a great view of your cleavage. he’s staring at your tits. scandalized, you grab his jaw to tilt his head all the way up, so he can either stare at the ceiling or look at your face. he chooses the ceiling.

“are you trying to make me hate my job? do you want me to quit?” you ask.

his eyes find yours at that, and you’re a little surprised to not find any fight in them. he shakes his head and keeps his mouth shut.

“you can answer now,” you say, letting go of his jaw.

“don’t quit, i like you as my manager,” he answers quickly. you huff out a laugh.

“well you sure as hell don’t act like it.”

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes—and sounds completely sincere, too.

you stand up straight, assessing him silently. you let your eyes rake down his body, noticing how he doesn’t move an inch. looks like you’ve finally put him in his place. it’s such a shame that it practically takes you bullying him to get to this point.

“so you’re gonna cool the tough guy act?” you ask.

“i dunno, maybe you should test how obedient i can be,” he prompts with a growing smile. wow, and you were doing so well.

“get off that chair.” immediately he does, standing up and waiting for his next instruction. you laugh at how pathetic his switch up is. you’d love for the nation to see yeonjun now, so eager to follow your orders. how far will he go?

you decide to test it out. “kneel.”

he’s just as quick to follow through with that, too. a power rush is already surging inside you, pumping adrenaline through your body. he looks up at you from his position on his knees. there’s still some space between you, though.

“come a little closer. crawl to me.” your pleased smile stays on your face as you watch him obey, keeping eye contact as he inches toward you.

“this is so funny,” you say as you look down at him. for the first time in your life, you see him look embarrassed. his eyes dart off to the side, unable to take the torment. “eyes on me. don’t you dare try looking away again.”

his cheeks glow with a subtle red tint, you notice as you take in his face. “would you be so kind as to apologize to me again?” you ask.

“i’m sorry,” he answers promptly.

“hm. better than that.”

he looks confused, but you know he’s desperate to follow because he’s quick to oblige. “i’m sorry i was such a brat to you and everyone else.”

“you were a brat. what do you think brats like you deserve?”

you feel him shiver. “punishment,” he answers meekly.

“that’s right.” you place your foot on his crotch, not paying any mind to how hard he is already. “what a shame you were so bad. you could’ve came today.” you take your foot off him and spread your legs apart. “get me nice and wet for your cock.”

“w-what?” he stammers, looking up at you all scandalized.

“i’m not in the mood to repeat myself.” with all the eagerness he’s ever had, yeonjun grips onto your thighs and dips his head beneath your skirt. he starts licking your cunt over your panties, tongue working adamantly against you like he’s scared to do it wrong or poorly.

you sigh, relaxing into the feeling. this is better stress relief than any amount of medicine could give you. maybe you’ll be resorting to this more often.

he wraps his lips around your clothed clit and sucks, then swipes his tongue across the swollen bud. he’s deeply focused on pleasuring you, repeating any little action that makes your legs twitch. you hate to admit it, but he’s getting you wet so fast.

“guess this is the only way to shut you up, huh?” you ask, and you feel him nod in response. “should i do this more then?”

“yes,” he pulls away to say, replacing his mouth with his fingers rubbing quickly against you. “do it as much as you want.”

“is the promise of pussy the only way you’ll—fuck, just like that—respect me?” his fingers run wildly over your clit, desperation oozing off of him.

“only yours. i’ll do anything for it.” he presses into your core, grinding his hand against you. “you’re so wet. please sit on my cock.”

you hum, wanting to say no and torture him more, but you can’t deny how bad you want to feel him inside you.

“sit on the chair and undo your pants,” you instruct. you slide off your panties as he does that.

you sit on his lap and give his dick a few quick jerks before aligning it with your entrance. he makes more noise than you do as you sink onto him, which would make you snicker if you weren’t so busy adjusting to his size.

“you moan like a bitch,” you hiss out as you finally take all of him in. you stay bottomed out for a minute, letting yourself get used to the stretch, grinding your hips every now and then to hear him whine.

“please move, i need more,” he says after a minute.

“don’t tell me what to do.” you start moving anyway—not because he begged you to, but because you’re getting needier for your orgasm. “this isn’t about you, brat.”

he keeps whining as you bounce on his dick, throwing his head back and dropping his mouth open. he sounds so much better when he’s moaning like a whore instead of bitching at everyone on earth.

you gasp when you feel his fingers on your clit, playing with the bud with endless need. even when he bites his lip, little noises keep spilling out of him, and a part of you is almost afraid that someone’s going to hear him.

“i’m close,” you say as you lean back a little, letting his dick hit a new spot inside of you. his eyes shine when he sees your body start twitching.

“i want you to cum so bad, please please give it to me!” his begging throws you ever the edge, biting your lip so you don’t make any sound. breathy little noises escape you instead, which yeonjun seems to like just as much.

you swat his hand away when it becomes too much, catching your breath while you ignore yeonjun’s twitching dick inside of you. yeonjun’s losing his patience, grabbing your hips needily.

“i need to cum too,” he says, brows upturned and almost looking pitiful. you enjoy the feeling of him inside you for a couple more seconds before getting up.

“isn’t that too bad,” you say. his jaw drops, and he goes speechless yet again. “don’t look so surprised. didn’t i tell you that you won’t be cumming today?”

the betrayal on his face suddenly makes this job worth every penny.

[sreegs]

adding a tw for suicide mention

pessimism is going to kill you. earlier in my life, i came extremely close to killing myself because of an obsessive spiral about how bad things are. before that i didnt think i'd make it to 33

pessimism is a defense mechanism. if you feel like you know how bad it is and how bad it's going to be, then you know better. you feel like you're right. it doesn't work that way though, because even if you end up being right, you don't feel better when that happens

it feels impossible to be an optimist, but it's better to try. you don't have to imagine everything will turn out perfect, you just don't have to give in to obsessions over what might go wrong.

shit's bad right now. i cannot say what will happen. i cannot say everything will be ok. but i can tell you that if you hold on you will make it through. i can tell you that no time in the past did everyone give up and roll over and let the world end

people find ways to carve out joy in the worst of times. people find ways to survive. we always do. if the people who came before you did it, so can you.

there's no shortcut to pushing back against pessimism, it took me years of work. lots of little things. finding things you love and things that make you happy to push out the thoughts that lead to obsessive spirals. i'm almost 40 now.

i love my wife, and my friends. i love my little cats. i love to go on walks around the city. i love to cook much more now, i even stopped presuming i'd fuck up a dish that i'm learning. i love to play games with my friends. i love to write my tabletop campaigns. i love to share stupid internet garbage with this guy i worked with briefly and cause psychic damage to him daily for years, so long and so consistently that he forgot to tell me he got married. because that's funny

when i first talked about killing myself to my wife, the first thing she could tell me was "i love you. i want you here". i've had to say that in so many words to some friends recently. so i'm going to sincerely say it to you too:

i love you, and i want you here

[shadowmaat]

This is all good information to consider, and the perspective of fostering as opposed to adopting would be a good one to explore more in depth.

While I agree that Din's role was "take care of the kid til I find the right people to raise him," and that this shares a lot in common with fostering, it obviously isn't a traditional set-up. There's no Agency to act as a middleman. No Agency to keep track of records and information. There's just Din.

And that's why I think the handover scene fell apart. Sure, from a cinematic perspective it's all cool and mysterious and brief. Luke swoops in, saves the day, and takes the kid.

But from a realism perspective I think exchanging names and comm codes would be the very least they could do. Even if Din fully plans on never seeing Grogu again. Even if Luke intends to raise and train Grogu in the ways of the Jedi. There are still likely to be questions Luke might need to ask. Does Grogu have any allergies? What's his vaccination status? He's telling me you let him eat five frogs for dessert, and he's so convinced of this I can't tell if he's lying. Is he?

Sure, Luke can get some information direct from Grogu, but he's limited both by what Grogu knows and what Grogu believes. Having another perspective would be useful.

Also, just because a kid gets adopted or goes back to their "real" family doesn't mean the foster parent has to sever all contact forever. That's something that usually gets worked out between the parties. By talking.

It was blatantly obvious that Din and Grogu shared a bond. The least Luke could have done was toss out a breadcrumb. Or explain why he didn't want to maintain contact. Telling Din (and Grogu) that Grogu needs to concentrate on his studies and can't afford any distractions would be a good one. Warning them that their bond is in danger of becoming a threat to them both and everyone around them (as evidenced by Grogu's misguided attempt to strangle Cara) would be great, too, and would emphasize the need for a permanent separation.

Otherwise I don't see the point of implying they'll never be allowed to see each other again. I could get behind a moratorium of, say, a year, to allow Luke to work with Grogu to strengthen his shielding and skills and so forth so that he'll know how to control himself, his emotions, and his bond with Din so that there won't be any danger in a visit/return. But permanent? Why? Canon Jedi lore is a bit of a nightmare to try and parse, but given that Jedi were allowed to go "home" to learn more of their culture, I think there's at least some wiggle room. It could also vary from person to person, rather than being a Temple-wide mandate. Not that it should matter since Luke is doing his own thing and isn't bound by whatever came before.

Anyway! I don't believe Luke "stole" Grogu. That's Sith propaganda right there. I do, however, think things could have been handled better. Even if TPTB hadn't handled it in the moment (and thus ruined all the dramatic tension), there could have been a filler scene showing Din and Luke (or more likely Din and Ahsoka) setting up some ground rules and going over some of the basics of the Care and Feeding of a Tiny Chaos Gremlin.

Favreau really said that Luke Fucking Skywalker is a baby snatcher. The ONE GUY who has never given a single blessed fuck about the jedi attachment rules. He would STEAL A BABY without bothering to leave a name or number to keep in touch with the baby’s dad.

[drgnflyteabox]

☄︎₊˚˖ fusion vs. fission [1]

series masterlist | simon riley x fem!reader part two -> cosmic dance

> summary: simon learns something crucial. or, simon wants a better life for you. he's willing to do anything to get there. > tags/warnings: murder / violence / death, illness, unplanned pregnancy, poor working conditions, mining, feelings of hopelessness / numbness, hurt/comfort, softdark!simon, scifi, inspired by Alien Romulus, made up science, ambiguous shady deals

Down in the dark and the deep, the air is muggy and teeming with floating particles of dust. They stick to Simon from the damp that builds on his skin, fighting to get through his respirator with each breath.

He’d cut a man for it, watched him leak slowly into a dark offshoot of the mine. Saw the whites of his eyes shine in the lamplight for a brief, terrified moment before going dull.

Nobody had said anything about the missing man. Not the first day, nor the next.

Eventually, it passed like a ship in the sky.

The respirators were luxuries. Simon had watched his own father’s lungs go black from the work, watched him grow small and weak.

Ultimately, it was the sickness that got him. Wasn’t the endless fantasies of violence Simon had replayed in his head since childhood of revenge. 

Just a slow, bleak sickness.

He refuses to let that take him, not while you’re waiting for him to come back.

He leaves the mine, now, crammed into the shaft with his fellow workers in labour. Some have respirators, like him.

Most do not.

The mine shaft creaks, stutters, then dings at the top.

Headlamp, pick, chisel, they all go in a canvas bag, which he straps to his back. Heavy, but not terrible. He only feels it because he’s been worse for wear lately, feeling the effects of hard labour more and more as the years go by.

Still, Simon is better off than some. They walk painfully slowly in and out of their work bunkies, living close to the mines so that they might still work – might still produce labour.

Sick, is what it is. Inhuman.

He can’t bring himself to care, not really, not if he’s being honest. To acknowledge anything but you is to acknowledge how hopeless it all is.

He knows it's bad.

Must be, the way he only feels alive when he opens the door to your shitty little trailer and finally, finally breathes .

You’re asleep, though you must've tried to stay up for him, sweet as you are, and passed out waiting on the couch.

His steps are as quiet as can be as he steps through the threshold of the door, closing it behind him with a rickety sound.

Then he stops. Stares. You’re curled, knees tucked, an old blanket covering you from the shoulders.

Your cheek is pressed to your hand, neck bent, breaths deep.

He thinks you’re beautiful. Knows that you aren’t used to being called that, not when he’d first met you and not now.

But still, he tells you. Loves to watch you scrunch your nose at him and tell him you’re beautiful too, Si .

Part of it is the ultimate rejection of softness, the inability to accept good things in a world demanding that you stay numb to it lest you be burned by getting comfortable.

You complain often about that – about how he’s letting you get comfortable . Lazy, you call it, since he’s stopped letting you go to work.

I worked before I met you, Si , you always say. Doesn’t matter, he’s got you waiting safely at home now.

Bored, maybe, but not lazy. 

Simon has always tried to bring back books or precious commodities from the trade markets like yarn. Things to do. Knows you like to use your hands.

Anything but the mines. He’ll never let you work there again.

Your breath changes when he sits beside you, his weight dipping the worn couch cushion and dragging you just a little closer.

“Told ya not to wait up for me,” he grumbles as your eyes flutter open. Sleepy little cat.

“Wanted to,” you murmur back, though your words jumble and slur a little, half-awake and already leaning towards him like you’re being pulled gravitationally.

“Mm, my sweet girl,” he cups the back of your head, kissing your hair, smelling you.

You’re one of the very few people who smell clean to him. Neutral. Like laundry soap, mostly, and maybe a little bit like the hot bread they serve at breakfast.

A lot of it is just you, though. He likes your natural scent.

Your nose finds his collar, like usual, and you smell him back. He knows he likely smells of soot, of sweat and the minerals they mine on this planet.

You never care. You like how he smells, too, enough to tell him all the time. 

It’s bliss, for a moment. Contentment. He closes his eyes and forgets the haggard faces of his fellow labourers.

Forgets the inequality of it all. Forgets the ads that he walks by that promise a trip on a fancy ship to a better planet if he just worked hard enough.

They’re the only clean thing on the streets, the only things that get wiped and shined on the regular.

He shakes his head, forgets the suffering of the world, and especially of this godforsaken planet.

Then you tense.

He’s attuned to you, can tell when the atmosphere changes. 

When there’s something wrong.

His hands find your face, cradling you, thumbs at your cheeks, “what is it?” he says, brows drawn.

“I have something to tell you,” you say, and his world narrows to a pinpoint.

Simon, sit… we have something to tell you, his mother tells him, before he learns Tommy’s hooked on something bad and he’s barely hanging on.

We’ve got something to tell you, the peace officers broach without a lick of humanity when he learns his family has been killed – a mine explosion had collapsed their trailer into a sinkhole.

So his breath changes. His shoulders tense. He trusts you completely, wholly, in every way, but he’s launched into the void of space by your words and braces for impact.

Only you begin to cry. Hot, globulous tears fall down your cheeks, falling onto his wrists.

They burn worse than hot coal. Hurt worse.

“Sh, you’re alright now,” he soothes. His thumbs brush away as many tears as he can catch, “come on, don’t cry. Tell me what's wrong.”

“I don’t know how this happened,” you hiccough, trying to move your head away from him. He doesn’t let you, holding you in place and letting the stuttering of your breathing resolve itself.

“How what happened, honey?”

“Simon,” – not Si. He braces – “I’m pregnant.”

It starts to rain halfway there. The rain here is different from other planet systems – it makes the air thick with a viscous humidity, coloured with a strange glowing blue.

If he’s to believe the quackjob down the street from him, it’s apparently because this planet is rife with bioluminescent phytoplankton.

I thought plankton were from the water, silly, Tommy says in his memory. I just seen it. He’s four, then, and mostly immune to the suffering he will soon know. 

Simon had been reading to him from a shitty copy of Science for Kids! One leftover from old earth.

This is a special kind, the quackjob had told him. If I could just get a book about it, I could tell you the name … but it’s like phytoplankton!

Simon shakes his head. His mind hasn’t wandered like that in ages.

It’ll be alright, honey, he’d held you there, on the couch, mind miles away. I’ll take care of you, don’t I always? 

He tries to, at least. Has made a hundred promises about your safety, your happiness. Ones he shouldn’t have made, in hindsight, but he’s made them and he intends to fulfil them.

The bar is sparsely populated, likely due to the thick fog of rain.

Price is always there, though. 

It’d be a real sign of impending doom if he weren’t.

There, in the back. Beside him, another man Simon doesn’t know.

What he does know is that Price doesn’t work the mines. Doesn’t have to. The peace officers leave him be, too, because he’s known for making them disappear should they cause any trouble.

“Price,” Simon says gruffly. He’s not putting it on because he doesn’t have to. Naturally big and imposing, he gets the message across.

“Take a seat,��� Price says.

He doesn’t make the mistake of thinking he and Price are friendly, but he does know that Price has a sprout of respect for him – it’s up to him to make it grow. To prove himself.

This is the only way for him to take care of you, now.

A deal is made.

The man’s name is Nik, and he’s a pilot. Rare thing on this planet, rarer still that he’s open to business from a man like Simon.

He wants out, and Nik has the means.

Price is included because he needs an extra man on a job, and the history between them lends for a tremulous kind of trust.

A pact built on the fact that each of them are not normal men, not normal workers. They’ve tasted violence, used it, and aren’t afraid to take their gloves off to get a job done.

When he learns of what the mine operator has done to you, he doesn’t immediately act. No, he waits. 

Simon is used to the shadows, to hiding. Used to patience.

He watched his father die, after all, didn’t act even after all that man did to him. Saw him turn to nothing before his eyes.

So he waits for the operator. Finds out his schedule.

You’d been left in the mine for hours. A support had fallen, trapping you and three others behind it. Oxygen grew sparse. No food, no light.

The operator could’ve had a recovery team there within minutes of hearing the news.

Too expensive, he’d said, and sent common miners to dig at the rubble for hours.

That, he could not forgive. Not after seeing your face, tear tracks cutting through the soot, lungs crackling for days afterwards.

Your growing fear of the dark, and of small spaces. Of being enclosed.

No, Simon could not forgive that.

That’s where Price finds him; with blood soaked into his sleeves, knuckles busted, face covered with a mask.

“Looks like you did my job for me.”

Everything comes together, brick by brick, line by line. He agrees to worse things than killing a man for his respirator, but he does it thinking of you and feels nothing for it but satisfaction and peace.

“You sure about this?” Price asks, sipping his drink. Expensive anywhere, a downright luxury here. Speaks to not only his power but his mobility.

Nobody gets off the planet, let alone does it regularly. Nobody but Price – and Nik, Simon thinks.

“I’m sure,” Simon says succinctly. He is, and has never been surer about anything else. There are no boundaries he won’t break for you, nothing he won’t agree to get you out of this hellhole.

Everything’s being expedited now, thanks to the little life growing inside you.

He can’t afford to waste any more time.

You’re still asleep where he left you when he gets back. On the bed this time, covered in a mound of knit blankets.

Your brow is furrowed, even asleep, body curled protectively.

Fuck, that makes his heart squeeze in his chest. Fear, uncertainty, inadequacy. Everything runs through him at one like a herd of wild horses, trampling the earth in their wake.

He crawls in with you, in front of you, staring at your sleeping face. You’re so beautiful, he thinks again.

His knuckles find your cheek, gently touching, eyes dipping down to the curve of your body beneath the blankets.

“S’gonna be alright, sweet girl,” he murmurs, “I’ve got it covered.”

[beneathsilverstars]

people are wondering about loop in the au where the party stops siffrin from using the dagger in dormont and the ensuing conversation breaks the loops so let's see...

Siffrin would still want to go see Loop first thing afterwards, but everyone else would be verrry worried about him going off alone. He tries to inconspicuously wander off but Isabeau is immediately like, "Heyy buddy where are you off to? Mind if I come with?" Siffrin feels guilty for selfishly making everyone feel obligated to not leave him alone, and getting them all worried about an issue that isn't even what it looked like. So he's kinda hoping they won't be so worried about him now that they've beat the king and decided to stay together... but he's also afraid that if they stop worrying, they'll decide, okay, no need to stay together after all.

But luckily Siffrin doesn't have to sort all of that out right now, because they know Loop has complicated feelings about the party and doesn't want to see them, so they know they have to go by themself if they want a chance of talking to them.

They try to play it casual, "I'm just going to the favor tree, you don't have to come with me." But two can play at surface-level manners so Isabeau says "I want to, though, it's no trouble!" Siffrin doesn't want to refuse him point-blank, but they really want to talk to Loop... so they go back and forth another time or two before Isabeau's like "Look. You understand why I'm worried about you suddenly going off for no apparent reason, right? On your own, when you've been glued to my side for the last half hour? I... I don't want to stop you,'' (Does that mean that he wouldn't? Or that he would, but he'd be sorry about it?) "but I would feel a lot better about it if you brought someone with you? Doesn't have to be me. Or at least explained why you're going...? Sorry, I know it must be so annoying to have to explain your every move, but... it's been less than a day, since. y'know. And I'd be... I just want you to stay safe."

And oh, Siffrin hates that he's made Isabeau so upset, that he messed up so bad yesterday and that he's making it worse right now, that he's made him so concerned over nothing. So he hesitantly, carefully explains, "There's someone I want to talk to. at the favor tree. I... talked to them there yesterday? And. they might be there again today, but. they definitely won't talk to me if any of you are with me." And, okay, it's reassuring that Siffrin has a reason, and it doesn't even seem he's lying, but. Isabeau can't help but be worried anyway. Especially because this is apparently someone Siffrin talked to at right about the same time that he started acting weird, yesterday? What if this person made Siffrin feel worse, what if they did something that pushed Siffrin over the edge??

But he knows that's edging past reasonable concern into paranoia, so he just asks, "Would it be alright if I walked you to the edge of town at least? Since you're still kinda woozy, and, that way I'll be in earshot if you need me...?" And Siffrin agrees, very relieved to have found a compromise and actually glad for the continued company. And it occurs to them that Isabeau might be less worried about them if they didn't have their dagger on them, and, the day has already been saved... So he gives Isabeau his dagger, along with a promise that he's not gonna do that, and Isabeau does seem happier!

So off they go through Dormont. Isabeau stops farther back on the path just a bit before the bend, where he won't be able to see Siffrin or overhear casual conversation, but could definitely hear a shout and coming running. And Siffrin goes to the tree, and sees the coin, and... twohats ensues! The dialogue is somewhat different, though, because they never did entirely figure it out in the end, did they? They had started learning about wish craft, but Loop hadn't quite connected it yet and of course Siffrin refused to look at their own wish. And then, what a dramatic final loop!

So. More along the lines of, "That was it? Really? You just had to kill yourself in front of them to get everything you ever wanted? To break the loops? To never be alone again? To guilt them into staying forever, because they think you're going to slit your own blinding throat if they let you out of their sight? Sure! Whatever it takes! Never let anyone tell you suicide threats don't work~" and "Do you know how many times I killed myself? How many more times I died?? Did I just not do it right? Wrong time, wrong place? Did I not suffer enough? Was I not selfish enough? What did I do wrong!! Why do you get to escape and not me! I deserve this happy ending, not you!! Why do you get to stay with them and not me!!!"

But, hm. Loop was kinda really raising their voice there at the end, weren't they?

Loop's voice still sounds a bit odd — part inhuman form, part new habit, part intense emotion — but, they're not putting active effort into keeping up the mask right now. Not when they're this upset. Not when Siffrin already knows. And Isabeau hasn't seen Loop yet; he just heard their voice. And a couple of the things that voice said.

So Isabeau makes it around that corner while Loop is speaking more quietly. And then Loop says "STARS, killing you will make me SO HAPPY," and Siffrin reaches for their dagger and freezes as he realizes and remembers it's gone, and Isabeau speeds up, and Loop looks up and see him and freezes too.

And Isabeau says, "Sif?? I thought you promised you weren't going to kill yourself over here???"

Long story short, Loop panics and runs, Siffrin follows while shouting things trying to convince them to come back, so of course Isabeau follows too, and Siffrin almost collapses because they're still craft exhausted. Loop gives up and lets them catch up, and I do mean gives up, they just wanna lay down and die, if you can't go out with a bang there's nothing wrong with a whimper. But Siffrin and Isabeau refuse to leave them there, so they wait around and talk at them, and then run out of things to say and wait some more. Eventually Mirabelle finds them and she's very upset and glad they're okay, and at that point Loop gives up on giving up and quietly follows them back to Dormont, so Siffrin won't get himself more sick and all his friends more worried, staying out in the forest all night.

And so! The party knows who Loop is from the very start, but not anything about the time loops! Just that something very strange must have happened, to end up with two Siffrins and one of them a star.

[omegastation]

Here comes my review (mostly writing & lore) of the Mass Effect Official Cocktail Book. I also included a list of all characters named with all page numbers related to their mentions.

I’m including this for our Andromeda Appreciation Week because the last part of the book is Andromeda-related :)

Introduction:

Cassandra Reeder is the recipe developer and Jim Festante is the writer.

The book is written by two writers in-universe. The first one is an asari calling herself “Ambree T’Sia” who is a lot like Gossip Girl (“you won’t guess and I’ll never tell” is an actual line in the book). We have to guess her identity but she doesn’t mind spreading a lot of stories about people and their drinks. 

The second writer is an angara called Roa who decided to add recipes to T’Sia’s existing ones, but more adapted to the Andromeda Galaxy. Roa dreams of a better world for everyone. He’s friend with Dutch and Anan from the Vortex.

Each writer presents drinks based on locations: bars and spots in the two galaxies. There also some snacks recipes as well.

Review: 

It’s hard for me to say anything about the recipes, though I will say it seems like there are different ingredients so a bit of everything for everyone. The difficulty can be adjusted: I thought some drinks looked really complicated to make (and some use other drinks in the books as base), but if you want to do a simple cocktail/mocktail, there are at least 10 good options.

Some recipes are directly named after characters or inspired by characters, so it might be fun to try some based on your favs. 

One drink seems weird to me, and that’s the N7 Shooter (mostly because of the mix of ingredients). If you try it, tell me what you think. 

Regarding American measurement: if you want to be precise, I would wait for a translation. Otherwise, I would get a cup and google some stuff before making it.

The drinks I'll try at some point, in a mocktail version only:

Tuchanka Sunset - 22

Perfection - 54

Tupari Blast - 61

Denorian Beer Granita - 64

Tequila Se’lai - 70

Shadowbrokertini - 74

The Mindfish - 83

Calibration Cooler - 95

Pink Marble - 130

Marljeh - 142

Kadara Sunrise - 143

So that’s pretty much it for the food & drinks, sorry!

My review is more about the lore and the writing.

I found the witty tone enjoyable. I like that there’s a distinction between how T’Sia writes and how Roa writes at the end of the book. T’Sia gossips a lot but there’s no malice. Roa is very earnest and seems quite adorable to me.

You’ll see I wrote down all the characters named and the pages, sometimes it says something about the writer, sometimes not.  A good example: Samantha is mentioned 5 times by T’Sia. She finds her charming and young, and mostly links her to drinks and other people (a full EDI/Traynor-like drink is in there). Meanwhile, Drack is mentioned 4 times, Vetra 3 times, but Roa has an entire page about how fascinated he is by Vetra.

Regarding what we learn, lore-wise: not a whole lot. It mostly plays on what we already know. 

What we do learn has to do with some characters. Without being too spoilery, it’s very light and fun for the most part - like Joker and Steve having a challenge, Vega seducing T’Sia, characters loving specific drinks (like Traynor), etc. Some characters (like Kaidan and Miranda) are sharing their woes or backstory. Roa, in the later part of the book, talks a lot about Dutch and their meeting is very very cute.

My favorite anecdote is that Liam’s movie night spreads to the Nexus and becomes a tradition :)

Some characters are very absent while others are more present. I would say it’s logical in a way, but it’s one thing to be aware of. If you’re a fan of Jaal, there are no mentions in the book. Though, like I said, a mention doesn’t always mean a lot: Peebee is mentioned once but we learn nothing new.  I also found it a bit sad that Ashley is not in the book. Obviously, I’m happy to have Kaidan there, but Ashley would have been a wonderful character for fun anecdotes here.

Characters named and pages:

Note: if you find that I forgot a mention, drop me a DM. I’ll add the page and/or character!

Joker - 12, 98

Sel Vass - 14

Solem Dal’serah - 21

Karin Chakwas - 25

Padok Wiks and and Urp - 26

Wrex - 26, 65, 106

Aria - 19, 27

Oleg Petrovsky - 27

James Vega -29, 46, 112

Shepard - 33, 30, 41, 93

Garrus - 37, 38, 95

Samantha - 42, 43, 73, 97, 106

Kaidan - 49, 106, 116

Miranda - 54

Kasumi - 55

Doran - 59, 60, 61

Grunt - 66

Fist - 69

Anderson - 71

Elijah Khan - 81, 88

Emily Wong - 93

Jack - 94

EDI - 97, 106, 

Steve - 98, 120

Tali - 101

Aethyta - 51, 57, 106

Dutch smith - 123, 126, 127, 131, 156

Anan T’Mari - 123, 127, 131, 156

Ryder - 123, 128, 133, 135

Drack - 133, 134, 137, 152

Umi Henon - 133, 134, 135, 138

Vetra - 137, 144, 154

Peebee - 137

Sloane - 138

Lexi - 138

Khan Dagher - 141, 143, 147

Kesh - 150

Suvi - 154

Buxil - 156

Niilj - 156

[aprismaticodyssey]

Update: uploading soon! Ch.1 through 8.

Since Dashingdon is about to be out of the picture, I figured I'll upload AoL chapters 1 through 8 due to those nearing completion in the edits and fixes. Besides just being generally slow in working (I know, I'm sorry), I decided doing it this way would be better than waiting until ALL (1-12) of it has been done.

If you want to see the changes and edits listed, read on! Otherwise, please wait a little longer, I swear it's coming. I'm so sorry this has taken so long, I've no excuse.

~Added a new scene to Ch.4. ~Fixed variables: I made them flat numbers. I... I don't know why. So I went back to change them into percentages again. Lesson learned. ~Added more flavor text where possible. This includes text for your MC's chosen vice. I could do more in some places, but I was worried it'd disrupt the flow, if that makes any sense. ~Found several errors in coding (ie. found a missing variable) or LI/RO pronouns that were overlooked. ~Made minor changes to the story such as reformatting, taking out certain lines (due to not liking them/feeling they were unnecessary, etc.)

I might have missed things but those were the most significant if I did. I have worked on the stats screen but... that's... That thing is giving me issues.

[marauders-bs]

p4! and so soon :3 @jamie-potters ty for the comment it made me finish this <3 @r0seprincess no meadowes kids this time 😔 next time tho @im-a-mess-of-a-person :3

masterlist

Hermione watched Dorcas sprint, laughing with her braids flying behind her, summer sun glinting off the grass.

Regulus was just in front of her, laughing quieter but still laughing. 

"Fine!" a boy's voice called, and Hermione realized as she looked around that Barty, Evan and Pandora were with Dorcas and Regulus. The boy who had spoken was Barty. "Fine, Reg wins, and my dumbass should learn to stop challenging you two to races."

"You should learn," Pandora said. Barty flicked her arm.

"Are you guys going to try out for the Quidditch team?" Evan asked, meeting Dorcas and Regulus in the middle of the field. "I think the Keeper and the Seeker just graduated."

Regulus shrugged. "I'm not sure I will. That kind of thing will get back to my mother fast, and she'll think I'm turning into Sirius."

"I might," Dorcas said. "I'm not sure I'm good enough, but it's worth a shot. Bat, you're good enough to be a Beater, I think."

"Dora too," Barty said, nudging her. "We would be the best power duo."

"Bone-breaking duo," Regulus said. "Everyone would rue the day Flitwick let you play."

Pandora nodded, smiling. Every memory Hermione saw with her in it made her wonder what had happened to the twins to make them practically swap personalities. 

The memory began to whirl, and Hermione smiled at it. She knew the way Dorcas went out, and she was glad that she seemed to have a good childhood.

-

The next scene was the inside of the Slytherin common room. Dorcas was pointing her wand at a Muggle pen and trying to transform it- into what, Hermione couldn't tell.

"Just do it without the wand," Evan said. "You're better without it."

"I know," Dorcas said. She looked over at him, smiling, but something in his expression made her smile drop.

Evan picked up his quill, eyes vacant, and began to sketch without looking at his paper. Five drawings appeared out of the seemingly random strokes– a boy who looked like Regulus, but older, reaching a hand upwards as hands drug him down into water. An older Dorcas stood angry, wand nowhere to be seen but hands outstretched, as a jet of light shot at her. Evan himself laying in Barty's arms, dead, as the blond boy screamed at the sky. Pandora looked like she was flying backwards, a cauldron in front of her. Barty's eyes were vacant but he was standing, a dementor in front of him.

Hermione didn't believe in Divination, but this might be something to prove her wrong. She knew that Luna's mum had blown herself up, Regulus had drowned in the lake and that Barty had received the Dementor's Kiss. That was the drawings on the paper.

"Ev?" Dorcas asked, pulling the notebook towards her. Her own death predicted on the page didn't seem to faze her, but the others did. "Ev?"

"What?" he asked, pulling the notebook back to him. "Did I do this?"

"Just now," she answered. "Evan, what-"

"I don't know either," he said. "I don't know why Dora would be messing around with potions. That's my thing, not hers."

Dorcas shrugged, concerned look on her face, but Evan went back to his work, so Dorcas did too. 

-

The next memory was the Quidditch pitch. Dorcas stood there beside three older people, two boys and a girl. She didn't seem nervous, but confident in her abilities. 

The Chasers sent seven hard goals to the first potential Keeper, and he missed five. The captain just waved him off, turning to the next boy. He did even worse, missing six of the goals. The older girl saved six but missed the seventh, which was understandable as it was a professional-level shot.

Then it was Dorcas's turn. Hermione had never met the girl, yet she couldn't help but hold her breath as Dorcas saved one, two, three, four, five, six shots. The seventh was the one the older girl had missed, a feint to one side and a shot on the far goal. Dorcas managed to save that one and throw it to a Chaser halfway down the field, making it look simple and stupid that the other girl had missed it.

The captain raised an eyebrow at Dorcas, who was a third-year. "How'd you make those?" he asked.

"I practice," she said simply. "And I'm good at what I do."

"'Good at what you do,' my ass." the captain said. "Do you have your wand on you?"

"No," Dorcas answered calmly. "I don't need it. I'm perfectly capable of saving goals without help."

One of the Chasers rolled his eyes. "We can just take both of them, you know. Let Meadowes play until she gets herself injured too bad."

Hermione could actually feel Ron thrumming with anger from beside her. He was protective of all people, even ones he didn't know very well. It was Hermione's favorite thing about him, if she was honest.

The captain made a face at the Chaser who had spoken. "You're usually right, Anna, but we haven't let someone below fifth year on the team in more than a decade."

"I'll take talent over age," one of the Beaters said. "That might just be me, though."

"Not just you," muttered the Chaser who had made the most difficult shots, picking at her nails. 

"Fine," the captain said. He turned to Dorcas and her opponent. "Meadowes, congratulations, you're on the team. Sorry, Blanchet, but you're going to be our reserve Keeper for if Meadowes gets hurt."

The girl – Blanchet? – took it better than McLaggen had. She clapped Dorcas on the shoulder, and the memory began to whirl.

-

"So, Sirius told me you're on the Slytherin team?" Marlene said, swinging down into the seat beside Dorcas. A glance around told Hermione that they were back in the Transfiguration classroom.

"Why would Sirius know that?" Dorcas asked, pulling out an ink bottle.

"Baby Black, obviously," Marlene replied. "Him and Sirius together must know everything that goes on in the school."

"That's because of Barty, not Reg," Dorcas said, laughing a little. "For all his loudmouth tenancies, he does a surprising amount of lurking."

Marlene laughed, very clearly surprised at Dorcas's honesty. Hermione knew about her brutal honesty at that point, and she was a bit taken aback that Marlene didn't know about that.

McGonagall entered the room then, Dorcas turned to her, and the memory spun away.

-

The next memory showed Dorcas looking stoic in a locker room similar to the one that Hermione had spent time in because of Ron and Harry. The grip she had on her broom told Hermione that her entire attitude was probably faked. 

"Are you ready for this, Meadowes?" the only other female player asked, lacing up her boots. "Ravenclaw's really good this year thanks to those new Beaters they got. Second years, both of them, and one's a girl, but they work together better than anyone I've ever seen."

"I'm friends with the Beaters," Dorcas said dismissively. "One of them will do his level best to knock anyone off their broom except me and the other will be a problem because she's actually smart."

"Which one?" the captain asked from where he was pulling on his jersey.

"The girl," Dorcas said. "The blond one's book-smart but incredibly stupid. He's only on the team because he's powerful. Pandora's smart and strong."

"Hope you all heard that," the captain called to the team. "The girl Beater's the smarter one and the boy will just try to knock you off your broom. If you can take her out of commission, do, but try not to get taken out of the game, Dahar."

"Boring," one of the Beaters muttered. "But fine."

"Anything else, since you're friends with them?" the Chaser girl asked.

Dorcas looked deep in thought. "Levine is their lead Chaser, but he's not as good as Abbas is. They let him lead because it's his last year, but it's going to be Abbas who scores if anyone does."

"Their Seeker?" the Slytherin Seeker asked.

"Smart, as Ravenclaw Seekers usually are," Dorcas replied. "His broom is horrible and he refuses to buy another one, so he'll be slow."

The Chaser girl grinned and clapped Dorcas on the back, "Earning your keep this game, aren't you? Bet your friends are going to be real mad when they lose."

"They already know they're going to lose, Anna," Dorcas said with a grin.

"That's the spirit," the captain said. "Alright, everyone up. They're going to call Ravenclaw first because they hate us, but we'll be soon after that. Order we fly out in is as it usually is– Koz, Ford, me, Dahar, Stroll, Meadowes, and St James. It's going to be a rough game, but we have our own little secret weapon."

"Stop making jokes about my height, asshole," Dorcas muttered, but she was smiling as everyone laughed with her.

Outside the room, someone began to call out the names of the Ravenclaws. Hermione heard only two she recognized- Crouch Jr and Rosier, presumably Barty and Pandora, and then the commentator began to call names the captain had said. The Chaser girl, Anna, flew out first, kicking hard off the ground and flying through the curtain. The second Chaser followed, then the captain, then the two Beaters, then Dorcas.

Hermione felt the wind in her hair like she was flying with Dorcas. She watched her do a loop around Barty, stick her tongue out, and fly to the goalposts. 

A memory interrupted the main one, sort of like a flashback within a flashback.

Dorcas was sitting with Anna and the captain, presumably after a practice.

"Hey, Meadowes," the captain said. "If you save more goals than we score, I'll let you hit Snape for every save you make. I'll even whipe his memory for you."

"That sounds fantastic," Dorcas said, grinning at him sideways.

The memory went back to Dorcas in front of the goalposts, waiting there as a younger Madame Hooch called out to the captains. Dorcas's captain shook hands with the Ravenclaw one, looking as though his mind was already in the sky.

Hermione still didn't understand Quidditch, and the fact that the memory only showed Dorcas's saves made it harder still to follow. One flash showed a Bludger coming at Dorcas at top speed, one of the Beaters throwing her his bat, and her smacking it as hard as she could at Barty and throwing the bat back to its rightful owner. Pandora smacked Barty's head the next time she flew by.

The memory began to whirl suddenly as a bludger rocketed towards Dorcas. She looked at it in surprise and tried to dive out of the way, but the memory went black.

send thoughts and prayers grade check ins for my seventh graders come out tomorrow and 1/2 of them are failing because they won't do the two pieces of gd homework i assigned them IT'S CADEN'S OWN DAMN FAULT HE'S FAILING JENNIFER HE HASN'T DONE AN ASSIGNMENT IN TWO MONTHS

[nonasuch]

I’m about to say something no one is going to like:

No one deserves to die. Ever. Yes, really. Under any circumstances.

No one deserves to die. Not Palestinians, not Israelis, not Americans Jews you disagree with, not goyische leftists you disagree with, not milquetoast liberals or both-sides centrists, not tankies, not Trumpers. Not even people who have done terrible things, people who have actively caused direct harm to others, people whose actions have made the world measurably worse.

No one deserves to die.

This is the bedrock of my moral philosophy. I firmly believe that every person deserves the following:

a life lived in safety and peace

a roof over their head

enough to eat

adequate medical care

freedom from harm

I am very aware that many, many people do not have these things. They still deserve them. That’s the goal to work towards.

That means I genuinely do not give a fuck about the supposed moral injury incurred by choosing the ‘lesser evil.’ When there is no way to get the morally pure outcome you actually want, you choose harm reduction and start pushing again from there. I’m not interested in smashing the system and starting from scratch.

Yeah, it’s incremental progress. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither may you desist from it.

If you believe there are categories of people who are acceptable targets of harm, there is a fundamental weakness in your morality. That weakness can and will be exploited to point you at new targets. This will inevitably undermine your ability to form coalitions and be in solidarity with people who are different from you.

I’m not saying you can’t be angry at people disagree with, or that their actions don’t cause harm. You’re gonna feel how you feel about it. Their actions are going to have outcomes you want to prevent. I’m saying that you have to learn how to divorce people’s beliefs and actions from their status as human beings deserving of life.

You can look at an action and say: this was harmful. I don’t want this to happen anymore. I want the person who’s doing it to stop. You can talk about the outcomes you want and the changes that might lead to that outcome.

If your strategy begins and ends with ‘get rid of the people who are doing the things I think are bad’ you are never, ever going to build anything positive in the long term. You’re just not.

As long as you have a category in your head labeled ‘people who deserve to die,’ your ability to do the work of repairing the world can and will be hijacked by people who want to use your desire for positive change as a blunt instrument against their enemies. In my view, this is a far greater moral injury than any amount of compromise or cooperation with ‘lesser evils.’

And from a purely practical standpoint, the work will not get done. Do you want the world to be better than it was, or do you just want your enemies gone from it?

This is so funny now im seeing people talking abt "imperfect allies" and how we can't afford recriminations and "i told you so"s and how we need to really come together and build community now.

It's too little too late. Oh NOW we want to talk abt imperfect allies, when earlier you called me a zionist cunt who deserves to die for DARING to suggest that kamala would be a better president for marginalized people in this country? NOW we need to look past differences and embrace our shared humanity?

No. You just need my labor again, you just need black and jewish and women and trans labor to do all the hard work of building a backbone of aid and solidarity again, because you're feeling the loneliness and vulnerability of a fractured, losing movement.

[loveanddeepsecrets]

They say three’s a crowd…

Synopsis- How Zayne and Caleb would one up each other when all three of you reconnect

tags: headcanon, jealousy; angst, no comfort :’( mostly gn, but some hcs imply an afab+ fem! reader

I don’t know if the LI’s will ever officially interact with each other in-game, but if they did, this is how I’d imagine Caleb and Zayne’s relationship dynamic

I’d imagine they’d make jabs at each other based on time spent vs time lost and sometimes using their own expertise as leverage. They’re both quite decorated in carriers especially being so young. Both try very hard to keep things amicable. They’re alike in many ways, and the feeling of responsibility to care for you is no exception…

- When you’re sad, Zayne would try lending a listening ear but before he can respond, Caleb chimes in with just the right words and inside jokes to make you smile again.

- When you’re getting ready for dinner, Caleb would be in the kitchen preparing your old favourites, then Zayne hovers over advising the best food substitutes as he reminds Caleb of your heart condition.

- When you’re suddenly feeling under the weather, Zayne would have you lay down and go to fetch a blanket, but Caleb steps, pillows and a blanket in hand explaining that you always need 3 pillows and a fuzzy blanket to help you fall asleep on sick days. He follows up with turning on the TV and choosing your two’s favourite comfort movie.

- On an afternoon stroll in the park, you’d stop and admire the blue hydrangeas, leading you and Caleb to reminisce about the many summers spent together. Zayne would then passively recall that one summer day all three of you spent at the florist shop and mentions the bushes he has of the same blue hydrangeas in his backyard (did anyone else clock that?!) and invites you to pick your own bouquet on your way back.

- At the start of your picnic, you pull out an apple and excitedly ask Zayne to show you how he peels it in one go. While he does this, Caleb examines the species of apple and goes on about how sweet and thoughtful you were to bring his favourite. He then remembers the exact orchard your class field trip went to when he first tried that specific Asiatic apple, and says he’ll take you there to go apple picking come autumn.

- On snow days, you’d sometimes visit the ski lodge. Caleb being a natural athlete, picks up on it pretty quickly. He hates to see you struggle, so he has the both of you back onto the small slopes. Zayne later passes by holding his and your snowboard, saying something along the lines of “That should be enough training for today. We did come here to have fun, and it would be hard to do that if you’re already sore from just one activity.” He’d then invite you to ride the ski lift to test if you still remember everything “Coach Zayne” taught you.

- During your cycle, Zayne would recommend and demonstrate the best stretches and positions to alleviate cramps, only for Caleb to walk in and insist the stretches he learned were the better alternative. Further explaining that he learned them from his fem colleagues during training for the Farspace Fleet.

- On one night with a vivid sky illuminated by the full moon and bright stars, the three of you lay on the grass searching for constellations. Caleb would share memories of the first time you two saw Orion’s Belt under the glass ceiling in grandma’s attic. Zayne stretches his arm out to you and suddenly feels the cool jade pendant he carved and begins to recall how beautiful the moon was the night he gave it to you. He then says a full moon is another one of the many things that remind him of you.

A/N: I often thought abt Zayne while completing Caleb’s story. I wondered if Caleb felt jealous at all when Zayne and MC reunited, and it led me to think about how all three of their relationships might have changed now that they’re adults. It actually hurt writing this bc they both deserve the kind of love they have with MC :(

***If anyone who actually writes, decides to make a real fic from this pls tag me so I can read it! I’m not a writer, so I’m limited to little blurbs like these

Dividers

Artwork

[howlionj]

kinda want to imagine alternative reality where rorke and elias start dating. just a little treat for myself i guess.

their first break together at walker's home at summer with both david and logan. rorke stays at guest room on a first floor of the house – far from master's bedroom and boys' rooms on the second. quite an uncomfortable change considering they mostly stayed together in one room, but it's not like he has any saying in this decision.

he is introduced as a 'good friend' by elias, but gabriel can sense that at least david not buying it. nevertheless, he introduces himself and logan, heavily implying that they both goes only by their full names. rorke nods at him, silently promising to remember that. elias is visibly unanxious during whole introduction and carefully studies all three of them.

'it went better than i expected,' walker says after the brothers went wandering in nearby woods.

'what you'd expect?'

'hostility, i think'

well, gabriel expected it too. him being literally no one to david and logan and suddenly appearing right at the start of their summer break? tragedy for any teenager. also, elias mentioned before that after tragic death of his wife there haven't been a lot of guests in walker's house for a while, so current situation might be stressful for the boys. he must be cautious and careful with them.

well, it goes that boys are more capable to handle rorke than he thought.

david is only fifteen, but he catches on things pretty easily and fast. gabriel to his dissatisfaction find out it late and not at fluttering time. he was smoking outside in the woods – elias told him that it's okay for his partner to smell like a tobacco company, but not for his furniture. so to the woods he went.

david approached him right after he put his cigar out on the sole of his boot with a determined expression on his face.

'i know you're dad's boyfriend,' he said loudly to assert himself.

'well, i'm quite old for that term, but you're right. what gave us away?'

'dad looks at you all mushy and soft, it was simple'

'yeah, sounds like elias'

'we are not against it. me and logan'

gabriel chuckled as david explained how progressive they both are.

'good to know'

'and we don't think you're replacement for mom'

it was a delicate moment for david, rorke knew it by the way boy went silent for a second.

'i hope you don't. it is not my intention to be one'

'good to know'

he when leaved back to the house, not saying anything.

and logan is two years younger, but as observant as his brother. not if more. gabriel was mowing grass in the backyard when youngest walker went straight to him with a notepad and sharpie. on the paper there were simple question, written messily:

"why do you wear bandana?"

rorke barked loudly surprised by a sudden question.

'i'm old, bald and ugly, that's why'

logan noded and wrote another sentence.

"you're all this thing with bandana on too"

he laughed at the comment - it seems that elias' witty mind popped up in logan.

'fair point, logan. actually, i wear it to hide a scar'

boy noded and fastly wrote another words:

"a battle scar? like ones dad has?"

'yeah, something like this'

"can i see?"

'well, i used to scare a lot of greens with it, your dad too. are you sure?'

logan noded intensely, signing something with his hands. elias mentioned before that logan after his mother death lost his voice and heavily relies on asl. improvidently for gabriel to not learn basics.

'sorry, kid, i don't speak asl'

logan simply pointed at his head.

'okay, i get. but be ready - it is a really nasty scar'

he untied the bandana and went on his knees to better display of his head. youngest walker stood on his toes and then excitedly sighed.

and like his brother he just left away, saying or writing nothing.

maybe, it was not a bad idea to visit elias family.