#young women’s freedom center

[commiepinkofag]

The killing of a budding activist, and the San Francisco district attorney’s decision not to release video footage of the incident or charge the security guard, has sent shockwaves through the city, sparking disgust at the quick use of deadly force by a private guard and protests about the city’s continued failures to provide housing, services and basic safety for Black trans youth like Brown.

[📷 Banko Brown’s family on the steps of City Hall, May 7, 2023]

“What makes this case deadly serious,” said Black Alliance for Peace member Jeremy Miller over the mic, “is if we do not respond appropriately to this lynching, we stand the risk of normalizing murder over loss prevention — murder over alleged theft from a retail establishment.”

…

Banko “always tried to think about all the other social justice movements that were happening. He organized over extended foster care services, lobbying Nancy Skinner. Free Palestine — he was there at that march. During the pandemic, he surveyed people on the street to collect data on the street to see what kinds of services young people needed.”

“He was just selfless,” Julia Arroyo, close confidante of Brown’s and co-executive director of the Young Women’s Freedom Center.

https://missionlocal.org/2023/05/100-rally-sf-city-hall-banko-brown/ [by Griffin Jones, Mission Local, May 7, 2023]

[Marching while holding a poster that reads ‘In Solidarity with Iran,’ Banko Brown was a regular presence at rallies and town halls in San Francisco. 📷: Courtesy of Young Women’s Freedom Center.]

[hussyknee]

Trying to explain what the fuck just happened in Lankan politics today.

The leftist party has won 159 seats out of 218 in the Parliamentary elections. The single biggest landslide win since we broke from the British and achieved universal franchise in 1948.

Any party achieving a super majority in the executive and legislative is, objectively speaking, bad. It disables checks and balances, which is a catastrophic thing for any democracy, and the only two other times it's happened for us has irrevocably eroded the fabric of civic rights and democratic freedom. Also, the reason the NPP won the North and East is that the colonized, genocided and subjugated people there have no faith in electoralism anymore. The way this government has engaged minority issues has been utterly abysmal and now they've been rewarded for it.

On the other hand:

The winners. Are all. Grassroots. Candidates.¹

We have voted out every single career criminal that's been barnacled into the Lankan political arena since before I've been alive. The fascist party has only three seats.² The other fascists didn't win a single seat. The neoliberal legacy party won none. There are only forty people in Parliament that represent any sort of dynastic political legacy. After 76 solid years of nothing but political dynasties.

This is barely five years after the Rajapaksas swept in and absolutely glutted the Parliament with their family members and cronies end to end.

This is the illegitimate interim government we had for most of the last 18 months. We literally, physically, chased the Rajapaksas out of the country and this fucking demon set up a puppet government just so he could finally sit in that goddamn chair and be the despot he'd always dreamed of in exchange for letting them all come back. He's now gone. His entire circle is gone.

THEY ARE ALL FUCKING GONE.

In US terms, just imagine that, five years from now, when Trump's GOP has control of everything, the entire GOP and the worst of the Dems are all purged from Congress and Senate, the Green Party in control of all three branches of government under a pro-union left-wing President and an unmarried female LGBT rights activist Vice President, and the Dems reduced to barely 20% of the House.

This is my anthropology professor. She joined politics from the small nascent leftist coalition to help keep the government accountable. She's now the Prime Minister and the most popular Parliamentary candidate in the nation's history. (Edit: She was knocked off first place by a dude in the final result. Boo.)

(On the other hand— the woman who helped make me a radical anarchist and literally helped write a book on political dissent and resistance...now is the state. Uh.)

But there are so many women in Parliament! We had the lowest female representation in a South Asian Parliament and some of them were from the list of seats reserved for parties rather than elected ones. Most were either anti-feminist conservative embarrassments, widows and daughters of elite politicians and neoliberal shills. It's still only an increase of a few percentage points (Edit: from the previous 5% to 10% in the final result!) but now we have elected academics, feminist advocates, activists! There Is a representative for Malaiyaha Tamils in the Central Province for the first time in history and it's a young woman! (Edit: now it's two female Malaiyaha MPS!!) This is the plantation community that still live in conditions closest to the slavery the British forced upon them two hundred years ago!

I'm like. Completely mindfucked. To be very very clear, the NPP coalition formed around the nucleus of the JVP that used to be communist but haven't been in 30 years, they're now just social democrats who are left of places like the US and UK, whose "left" is now center-right. They're only threatening to the Western mainstream media for some reason who can't stop bleating about how we have a "Marxist" government now. In reality, the actual chances for radical reform are still quite low, and the opportunity for further erosion is quite high with a super majority government regardless of affiliation.

On the other hand:

What the fuck.

Sometimes living through historical events is really damn amazing.

---

¹ Well, nearly. There are a few career politicians and a nepo baby but they aren't so bad either.

² Goddamn it, Baby Rajapaksa and Sri Lanka's answer to JD Vance have wormed their way in using the list of Constitutionally reserved party seats for non-elected members. FUCK the National List.

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twenty-Three} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {@niklausie}: the squeal i let out when i saw your kinktober post asking for more klaus that’s my man!! shocked that people aren’t requesting a lot of him already but i love to see all the elijah love 🥺 anyway! my request is: 1920s klaus dating a fem!reader who’s in her late 20s and a young upper-class widow whose husband never satisfied her, maybe it was an arranged marriage, and her relationship with klaus is quite scandalous. he’s introducing her to pleasure in a way she never imagined or experienced before. could be him going down on her, which she’s never done before, or just raw passionate bonking in a jazz club like the smitten degenerates they are hehe xx i appreciate it a lot if you decide to write this!

♡♡♡ I just KNOW Klaus made a hobby out of doing this at every speakeasy in the city...♡♡♡

2.5k words - Kinks: 1920s, oral sex, public sex, Klaus being a flirt, jazz music && lots of gin ..

The crumpled note in your hand was the key to the evening, an address to a secret club. Your friend had suggested the place, telling you that you would love the jazz and the atmosphere. It was entirely outside your comfort zone to go to such a place, especially alone.

But your life had changed so much in the past months that you wanted to do something new. So here you were, standing in front of a plain wooden door, with nothing to indicate what was behind. A small window, the kind you would expect to see in a bank, was set in the door. It slid open, revealing a pair of eyes.

“Name?” The voice was low and suspicious.

You swallowed and said the password your friend had given you. “la fee verte.”

The window snapped shut, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe they wouldn’t let you in. Then the lock clicked, and the door swung open. The man behind it gave a small, amused smirk. “Enjoy the show.”

Inside, it was dark and smoky, the air thick with the mingled scents of tobacco and alcohol. It felt as though you’d stepped into a different world … one where rules didn’t apply. A thrill ran down your spine as you took it all in. The dim light cast long shadows over the room, and in the center, a crowd of people swayed to the lively, infectious tunes of the jazz band on stage.

You moved toward the bar, your steps hesitant but steady. “Gin, please,” you ordered, and the bartender poured a generous amount into your glass. The liquid burned as you took a sip, but you liked it. It was stronger than the polite, watered-down drinks you were used to, stronger, and better. The tension you’d been holding onto since you’d arrived began to slip away.

As you watched the dancers, a spark of envy stirred in your chest. The women moved freely, laughing, spinning, their dresses swirling as they danced with their partners. You wanted that. The freedom, the joy. For once in your life, you wanted to do something just for yourself.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” A voice broke through your thoughts, smooth and rich like the gin in your glass.

You turned, and the moment your eyes met his, the words caught in your throat. He was gorgeous, all chiseled features, blue eyes that gleamed in the low light, and a smirk that sent a flicker of heat through your chest.

“I’m Klaus,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours.

Your fingers tightened around the glass, and you were suddenly grateful for the dim lighting, so he wouldn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. “Y/N,” you managed, offering your hand.

Instead of shaking it, Klaus took your hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and your breath hitched, warmth pooling in your stomach at the simple touch.

“What brings you here tonight?” he asked, his voice casual, but the intensity in his gaze told you there was more behind the question.

“My friend told me about the band,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “And I’ve… been wanting to try something different.”

He nodded, glancing toward the stage. “They’re good,” he said, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music. “I imagine you’ve been to plenty of these places.”

You laughed, a bit nervously. “Not exactly. This is my first time at a place like this.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? Then I’m honored to be part of your introduction to such debauchery.” His smirk deepened, and your heart skipped a beat. “Where are you from?”

“Here,” you said, “New Orleans. Born and raised.”

“And your husband?” His voice was casual, but you could tell he was paying close attention to your answer.

You hesitated, then took another sip of gin for courage. “He died a few months ago.” The words slipped out more easily than you expected. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue, or maybe it was the way Klaus was watching you, like he genuinely cared about your answer. “It was an arranged marriage. We never… loved each other.”

A shadow flickered over Klaus’ expression, but it disappeared just as quickly. He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “I see,” he said softly. “And now?”

You looked down, tracing the rim of your glass with your fingertip. “And now, I’m figuring out what it means to live for myself.”

Klaus’ smile was slow, deliberate. “I think you’re off to a good start.”

Your heart raced as he stepped closer, his presence warm and magnetic. His breath ghosted against your ear as he whispered, “Care to dance?”

“I don’t know the steps,” you admitted, glancing at the couples on the floor, their movements effortless, graceful.

Klaus chuckled softly, his breath brushing your skin. “That’s the beauty of it, love. You don’t need to know the steps. Just follow me.”

Before you could protest, his hand was on your waist, guiding you toward the dance floor. The moment his hand touched you, a spark of something electric shot through your body. You let out a shaky breath as he pulled you into the rhythm of the music, his body pressed against yours, leading you with a confidence that made it impossible not to follow.

As the song picked up speed, he spun you around, your dress billowing around your ankles. Laughter bubbled up in your throat as you twirled, dizzy and giddy, caught up in the excitement and the heat of his touch. When the music finally slowed again, you were breathless, flushed and grinning.

Klaus held your gaze, his hand still resting on your waist. Your bodies were close, swaying gently with the music, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. His eyes were dark with desire, and your pulse quickened.

Your husband had been cold and distant, barely sparing a moment for you. But now, here, with Klaus, you felt the desire that had been buried beneath layers of propriety and convention rising up inside you. You wanted him, more than you could ever remember wanting anyone.

"You are far too lovely to be married to a man who never appreciated you," Klaus murmured, his voice low and husky.

Your face burned. "What makes you think I'm lovely?"

Klaus chuckled, spinning you again, your body moving perfectly with his. "You have no idea, do you?" His gaze roamed over your face, your lips, down your body, his eyes filled with lust. "You are intoxicating."

"I'm sure you say that to every single gal who walks in here," you said, the gin loosening your tongue.

His smirk deepened, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle over the curve of your hip. "I'm only interested in the one who is right here, in front of me."

The music ended and the applause startled you both out of the trance you had fallen into. Klaus' eyes lingered on yours for a moment, then he took your hand and led you off the dance floor.

"Let's get another drink, shall we?" he murmured, and you found yourself unable to refuse.

You followed him to a quiet booth, upholstered in soft velvet, tucked away in a secluded corner. He signaled a waiter, and soon, two fresh glasses of gin sat on the table, the liquid ice-cold and refreshing. You sipped it slowly, savoring the tart flavor, as Klaus' eyes studied you.

"So," he said, leaning back, his arm draped over the back of the seat. "Tell me about yourself."

You blushed. "There's not much to tell."

Klaus shook his head, taking a drink. "I doubt that," he said, his gaze intense, making the blood rush to your cheeks.

"Well," you began, unsure where to start. "Same old story, married young, and it wasn't a happy marriage." You didn't elaborate, didn't want to talk about the years of loneliness, the disappointment. "It's a relief, honestly. Now, I can make my own choices, be my own person."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you plan on doing anything with your freedom?"

You took a long sip of gin. "I honestly don't even know where to start..."

Klaus tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I might be able to help," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"What did you have in mind?"

He grinned. "You'll see."

Your stomach did a somersault as he slid closer, his thigh brushing yours. The scent of his cologne, crisp and musky, surrounded you, making it hard to focus.

"Let's start with this," he whispered, his lips inches from yours. Before you could ask what, he was kissing you, his mouth hot and demanding, his hands tangling in your hair.

You gasped, your body responding instantly, desire flooding through you as his tongue slid into your mouth. He tasted like gin and sin, and it was everything you wanted. You felt his hand sliding up your leg, under your dress, his fingertips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your heart pounded, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his lips trailed along your jaw, down the side of your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh. You felt a pang of fear, and you didn't know why, but something inside you pushed back.

"No," you gasped, pulling away, your chest heaving.

Klaus paused, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes dark and hungry. "Why not?"

"It's not... proper," you stammered, hating yourself for the words.

Klaus chuckled, his fingers brushing your cheek. "I'll make sure no one sees," he said, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, heat rising in your cheeks. You wanted him, but you were afraid. You'd been taught to be a good girl, to obey, and the thought of someone seeing, knowing, terrified you.

"You don't have to be afraid," Klaus said, as if he could read your thoughts. "Want to know a secret? No one cares what you do. This place, it's about freedom. About living life to the fullest, without the constraints of society holding you back."

Your heart pounded as his hand slid up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties. His lips went back to kissing and nibbling at your neck, and you found yourself arching against him, craving more.

"I want you," he murmured against your skin. "Don't you want me?"

"Yes," you breathed, giving in.

You felt him smirk against your skin, and his hand slipped under the fabric of your panties, his fingers stroking over the slick, wet heat between your legs.

You gasped, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you, as his fingers found the swollen bud of nerves, circling and teasing it. You let out a small moan, your hips moving involuntarily, seeking more.

"Did your husband ever do this for you?" Klaus asked, his voice low and raspy.

"Please don't bring him up with your hand between my legs," you moaned.

He laughed. "That's a no, then."

Before you could respond, he was sliding under the table, his hands pushing your dress up to expose the skin of your thighs.

You were suddenly hyper aware of the people around you, the possibility that someone might notice, but the lights were too dim, the crowd too noisy, and Klaus was kissing his way up the inside of your thigh.

You bit back a moan, the feeling of his lips against your skin making it hard to think, the gin still thrumming through your veins.

"What are you doing?" you breathed, gripping the edge of the table as his tongue slid over the sensitive skin.

"Giving you the pleasure that was denied to you," Klaus murmured, his fingers spreading you open.

"Oh, fuck," you whispered as his tongue circled the aching nub of nerves.

He chuckled, his tongue moving in slow, lazy circles, the sensation sending ripples of pleasure through you. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he took his time, drawing out the moment, building the tension.

You had never felt anything like it, the way his warm mouth was making your body respond, the way his tongue flicked over the most sensitive part of you. You were trembling, gasping, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he increased the pressure, his fingers slipping inside you.

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but it was impossible, the pleasure too much.

"Do you like that, love?" he asked, his breath hot against your skin.

"God, yes," you moaned, unable to stop yourself.

He chuckled again, and the vibrations making it all more intense. He was enjoying this, the effect he was having on you, and it turned you on even more.

You closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, your hips rocking against his mouth. The music was loud, the voices around you a steady drone, all the overwhelming sensations building, building, building. You were teetering on the edge, and then Klaus did something with his tongue, a swirl of pressure, and it was too much. A shattered cry ripped from your lips as you came, hard, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Klaus stayed between your legs, his mouth and tongue working their magic, until you were completely spent, panting, sweaty, and blissed out. He emerged from under the table, a smirk playing on his lips, and kissed you, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips, salty and sweet, and the idea of him doing such a wicked thing made your core pulse again.

"How was that, love?" he asked, his gaze burning into yours.

"That was incredible," you breathed, your hands curling into his shirt.

He grinned. "I'm glad to hear it."

You blushed, realizing how scandalous this whole thing was. "I've never done anything like that before."

"I can tell," he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Your husband was a fool."

You shook your head, but you couldn't deny the flutter of pleasure his words gave you.

"I should go," you said, though the last thing you wanted was to leave.

"Why?" he asked, his eyebrows raising.

You didn't have an answer. Not one that made sense, anyway.

"Freedom, you see, is also about taking what you want, when you want it," Klaus said, his hand trailing over your collarbone, the bare skin exposed by your dress.

You hesitated, his words ringing in your ears. You'd spent so much of your life following the rules, doing what was expected of you, and now, the prospect of being free, of doing whatever you wanted, was dizzying.

"So... What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

You looked up, your gaze locking with his. You wanted him, all of him, and the way he was looking at you, the way his fingers were dancing across your skin, made it clear that he wanted you too.

"Take me home," you whispered, and his smirk widened, a glimmer of excitement flashing in his eyes.

"Darling, I'd be delighted."

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[lua-stellar]

How Do You Need to Decenter Men? Tarot PAC ✨✨

Paid Services Ko-Fi :> Masterlist

A lot of young women these days are learning that men don't have to be the center of their lives, that people are complete without the need of making everything they do about men or a specific man. Because we live in a patriarchal world I think everyone needs to decenter men in some way, even men need to decenter men from their lives! This reading's purpose is to show how you can live a whole and complete, happy life without men being the centre of your universe, and gives you advice to better yourself :)

pile 1

cards drawn: eight of cups, knight of cups, high priestess

So I believe what this reading is communicating is you definently need to focus on you, there might be men(or a man?) in your life who you are giving too much of your time and even if it's hard you need to learn to let go of, and move on from. I get the energy of ending relationships that no longer serve you and bringing in new energy in your life that will overall improve your life.. You need to focus on yourself, and to be more specific, your dreams. Pay attention to opportunities that will benefit you, pay attention to your gut feelings and your intuition. What do you want? What do you need? Now is the best time to listen to your body, intuition and soul. For pile 1 I feel that good things will be coming your way when you pay attention to your dreams and ambition. :)

pile 2

cards drawn: the hierophant, judgement, three of swords,

Getting the energy for pile 2 that however it was that you centre men in your life, it has to do with an ideal you hold. Something to do with perfectionism, the advice this reading is communicating is that you have a second chance and I get the energy that people around you and your spirit guides will be supporting you in this, for you decentreing men in your life will involve heartbreak. It will be a hard decision and painful too, but you need to let go of this ideal and this idea of perfection that you hold. You need to start anew, start living your life in a way where you wont need men and you wont have to feel like you need them in order for you to be happy/live your ideal life. I feel like for pile 2 due to having to let go of an ideal and go through heartbreak, it will be hard but you will be supported in whatever decisions you make, whether by your family or your spirit guides (or both). And in the end this will have a positive outcome and overall make your life happier.

pile 3

cards drawn: four of pentacles, reversed nine of pentacles, reversed nine of swords

This reading I feel is important for some people to hear the message 😓 you are in a point in your life where you are stable, and independent. But your independence is being threatened. You need to stop and realize that NO man is worth your independance, freedom, stability, peace of mind etc. I feel like the people who chose pile 3, alot of you must have someone in your life threatening your independence. I feel like alot of you right now, its not your fault, but the men in your life are making you utterly miserable! But your life will improve, you need to cut out the toxicity in your life and learn that nothing is more valuable than your freedom and independence and your happiness. You must learn to value yourself more than any toxic man thats in your life and making your life worse, you are so much better than that! Things might be hard right now, but it will get better and that starts with centering yourself first!

[sabokunsmalia]

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄; monkey d. luffy featuring: monkey d. luffy x straw hat fem!reader content warning: semi-public, cumming in pants, teasing, dirty talk, mdni!! hi it's malia: don't ask how that thought was created but for me it's so inexperienced!luffy coded.

after another glorious victory for the straw hat pirates, the crew gathered in the center of the capital where the folk had prepared a feast. long tables filled with disparate kinds of food and drinks while a small band played slow songs in the corners. it was beautiful, almost romantic with the enlightened laterns and flowers as decorations. for hours, you and your friends witnessed a beautiful festival. people who have never felt freedom in ten years, were suddenly out of the cage. thanks to a certain stretchy boy with a straw hat, who loved to help innocents.

while the crew slowly split as the members followed their own pleasures of the night, you stayed at the table, in the corner with your boyfriend luffy. while sanji followed multiple women and played their dog, and robin left the party to drown in another book, and chopper already went to bed as he was 'too young' for such events in his own words, the remaining ones at the table were the two of you, zoro, nami, franky and brook. a muscular arm draped over your shoulders, your cheek pressed against his naked, toned chest, you smiled to yourself.

the booze of the past hours slowly clouded your mind, allowing the depth of your dirtiest desires to surface without any resistance. one of them being a certain thing, you discussed with luffy way too often. and you got declined way too often because his reputation was important. it was right, he was right. a pirate who wanted to become the king, had to be feared and yet, you couldn't wipe away those reckless ideas. and with the booze in your system, the courage only started to rise further.

legs thrown over his lap, your flat palm placed on his stomach. fingertips slowly started to trace along his muscles, following the deep and hard lines. luffy did not react at first, knowing how much you admired the change of his body since the reunion. but when your hand wandered bit by bit underneath the table, resting just above his crotch, the captain could put one and one together.

leaning down while listening to another of franky's super stories, luffy's wet lips pressed a sweet kiss on the top of your heart. gentle but also with warning words. "don't, we're still in public, we talked about this,"

oh, there was this demanding edge to his soft voice. the syllabeles suddenly sounding much harsher than anything else he said the entire evening. but you did not listen, not tonight. you followed your needs and desires. fingertips caressed over the thin fabric of his shorts, slowly tracing the small bulge his dick made, without being hard. but with your soft hands, it did not take long to harden. your gentle touch, so featherlight it could never be enough for him.

and just minutes later, your flat hand palmed his hard dick through the fabric of his blue shorts, while the captain still tried to remain in the conversation with his friends. you had your cheek pressed against his chest, eyes not visible for the surrounding members of the straw hat crew anymore. almost as if you were asleep against your boyfriend's body. "just talk, baby," you muttered into luffy's skin, trying to conversate with him, without having them others realise what you were doing underneath the wooden surface of the table.

slowly but with enough strength, you massaged luffy's hard dick. stroking along the outlines with your fingernails, almost drooling down on his shorts while watching how eagerly it pressed against the fabric. the pants restrained him but the feeling of your soft hands already pushed him close to a first orgasm. breath quickened, chest rising while the pants escaped luffy's wide smile. he was trying so hard to not make a noise, to not give his friends a glimpse of what was going on right beside them.

"so beautiful, so hard," you mumbled, watching the tip of your pointer finger dance over his hard dick, smiling to yourself while repeating those praises. words, luffy loved too much. words, which made him cum so easily while being in the shared bedroom.

"wanna feel you later," you confessed, pressing your palm hardly against the bulge. your words were doing much more to him, his dick twitching while the waves of ecstasy ripped through his lower stomach. muscles tensing, you could see perfectly how the captain came in his pants because of you.

lips pressed together tightly, the head thrown back and his eyes hidden underneath the brim of his straw hat. a groan slipped out but luffy was quick to pair it with a convincable yawn and your adorable giggle. oh, you would pay later. would definitely clean up his dick from the mess you forced him to make. with your mouth, hands held tightly on your back. oh, you could not wait to be alone with luffy.

and the captain of the straw hats definitely looked forward to having you the entire night, to punish you for putting him into such situation and for the stains in his shorts which were the remains from his cum.

[redroomreflections]

II HANDS II HEAVEN

Notes: I listened to Beyonce's album and wanted to write something to this song

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 4.5k

It will be like five chapters.

"Any leads on who's joining Natasha for the upcoming couple's retreat mission?" Steve's gaze shifted from the itinerary to the team gathered around him, his tone commanding authority.

"I believe Natasha's our primary agent for this one," Wanda replied, her head tilting in contemplation.

"Indeed, but it's a couples retreat, so we need another partner," Steve clarified, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Someone who can blend in seamlessly."

"Can I offer myself up for sacrifice?" Sam quipped, raising his hand in mock enthusiasm before quickly retracting it under Natasha's icy glare.

As the meeting progressed, you were drifting away, lost in your thoughts. It wasn't your first time excluded from the team's high-profile missions. They always cited your need for further training, claiming you could not work as a cohesive part of the team. But deep down, you knew it was just an excuse—an excuse to keep you sidelined while others got to shine.

You couldn't help but feel frustrated by the situation. You'd worked hard to hone your skills, to prove yourself worthy of being part of the team. Yet repeatedly, you found yourself overlooked, and relegated to the sidelines while others took center stage.

As Steve discussed the details of the upcoming mission, you couldn't shake the feeling of resentment that gnawed at you from within. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that once again, you wouldn't be chosen to join Natasha on the mission.

Not that you particularly want to. You and Natasha aren’t exactly bosom buddies. You found yourself mostly keeping your distance from her. There was an unspoken tension between you, a mutual understanding to maintain a polite distance.

Instead, you gravitated towards Wanda and Vision, joining them for several movie nights. As a third wheel in their relationship, you often found comfort in their company, even if it served as a temporary distraction from your own frustrations.

Occasionally, you'd join Sam and the other guys for some lighthearted banter and training. But even then, you never found yourself alone with Natasha. She remained elusive, keeping her distance and maintaining her mysterious persona.

Despite the distance between you and Natasha, you remained focused on your own goals and aspirations. You refused to let her presence—or lack thereof—determine your worth as a member of the team. You were determined to prove yourself, even if it meant forging your own path separate from hers.

Joining the Avengers has been an exhilarating yet unexpected journey for you. It couldn’t be more different from your wildest dreams. The initiation process felt more like something out of a gangster movie than a superhero team induction. Three months ago, you decided to defect from the government organization you once served. Spectra Intelligence Bureau had built you up to do their bidding. Only to let you down time and time again. You had seen women come and go from the field, only leaving behind shadows of their former selves.  You hadn’t known so soon you would be following the same path. You joined the Avengers for a chance at redemption and freedom. But your defection was far from voluntary, despite what everyone else believes.

You had always been a skilled operative, adept at blending into the shadows and manipulating situations to your advantage. You were a master of espionage, trained from a young age to infiltrate enemy organizations and extract valuable information without leaving a trace.

But beneath the facade of a loyal government agent, you harbored a deep-seated resentment towards the organization you served. 

For years, you played by their rules, carrying out missions that blurred the lines between right and wrong, morality and duty. You became disillusioned with the endless cycle of violence and deceit, longing for a way out of the tangled web of lies you had woven around yourself.

Now, as a member of the Avengers, you keep your head down, wary of drawing too much attention to yourself. You know that the consequences of your past actions could come back to haunt you at any moment, threatening to unravel the fragile semblance of peace you’ve fought so hard to achieve.

“I volunteer y/n,” Tony said with a slight smirk. 

Tony's declaration draws your attention back to the meeting. His smirk doesn't escape your notice as he volunteers you for the mission with Natasha. It's a typical Tony move, laced with a hint of mischief and a touch of amusement.

You felt a surge of mixed emotions at his words. On one hand, you're grateful for the opportunity to finally be included in one of the team's missions. But on the other hand, you can't shake the feeling of apprehension at the prospect of working closely with Natasha, especially given your less-than-amicable relationship.

Still, you know better than to protest. This could be your chance to prove yourself, to show the team—and Natasha—that you're capable of rising to the occasion. With a nod of acceptance, you steel yourself for the challenges ahead, determined to make the most of this unexpected opportunity.

“Y/n and Natasha as a couple?” Bruce spoke aloud. “How would that work out?”

Natasha remained composed, her expression unreadable as she met Bruce's gaze. There's a flicker of something in her eyes—maybe surprise or curiosity—but she quickly masks it behind her usual poker face. She offers no comment, keeping her thoughts on the matter to herself.

Tony chuckled lightly, clearly amused by the idea. "Well, they do say opposites attract," he quips, flashing a grin in your direction. His tone is light-hearted, but there's a glint of mischief in his eyes, hinting at his underlying intentions.

From his side of the table,  Sam raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Well, that should make for some entertaining mission reports," he quips, his tone teasing. 

Natasha's voice cut through the air, her tone firm and unwavering. "I need someone who's going to pull their weight," she stated, her gaze piercing as she addressed the team. There was no room for ambiguity in her words, each syllable laden with expectation and determination.

 "Well, I assure you, Natasha, I'm more than capable of pulling my weight," You replied, your tone cool but tinged with an edge of irritation. 

Natasha's gaze lingered on you for a moment, her expression unreadable. There was a hint of apology in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the unintended slight in her earlier statement. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise," she said quietly, her voice softening slightly.

“If we’re going to do this, I want to lead,” You turned away from her understanding gaze. Your competitive and cutthroat attitude had no business here but you were determined to prove a point. 

Natasha's response was measured, her voice carrying a hint of steel beneath its calm exterior. "I understand your desire to take charge, but this isn't about proving a point," she replied evenly, her gaze steady as she met your eyes. There was a silent challenge in her words, a reminder that leadership wasn't about ego or competition—it was about trust and cooperation.

You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, unwilling to back down from the challenge Natasha presented. "Maybe not for you," you countered, your tone edged with stubborn determination. "But I know what I'm capable of, and I'm not going to sit back and play second fiddle."

Natasha's expression softened slightly at your words, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "I respect your confidence," she conceded, her voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "But leadership isn't about proving yourself—it's about putting the team first and making the tough decisions when they need to be made."

“Leadership is also knowing when to let go of the reins,” You shrugged. “Unless you’re wound too tight to do that?” 

Natasha's expression hardened at your words, her jaw tightening imperceptibly as she met your gaze with a steely resolve. "I may be many things, but 'wound too tight' isn't one of them," she replied, her tone cool and controlled despite the undercurrent of irritation that simmered beneath the surface.

There was a palpable tension in the air as the exchange hung between you, the unspoken challenge lingering like a storm cloud on the horizon. Despite your attempts to provoke a reaction from Natasha, she remained composed, refusing to let your barbs get under her skin.

"You may have your way of doing things, but don't mistake confidence for arrogance," Natasha continued, her voice quiet but firm. "True leadership requires humility and the willingness to listen to others, even when it's difficult. I can’t have you out in the field making mistakes."

You felt a surge of frustration at Natasha's response, the sting of her rebuke cutting deeper than you cared to admit. But beneath the surface, there was also a begrudging respect for her unwavering commitment to her principles.

As you exchanged one last tense glance with Natasha, a silent understanding passed between you. 

“I’ll do it,” You said. From the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up. You had to admit you liked a challenge. This should be fun. Your declaration hung in the air, a bold assertion of your readiness to take on the mission. You could feel Natasha's gaze on you, sharp and assessing, as you made your decision known.

A faint smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you met Natasha's gaze head-on. You liked a challenge, and this mission promised to be anything but easy. 

As the tension between you and Natasha lingered, a familiar voice broke through the silence. "Alright, let's get down to business," Steve's voice rang out, commanding attention as he stepped forward. 

With a glance at Natasha and you, Steve cleared his throat before launching into a rundown of the mission details. "The retreat is called 'Shady Corners,' owned by Ilanka and Maxim Belinsky," he began, his tone businesslike as he relayed the information to the team.

But before Steve could continue, you found yourself interjecting, unable to resist the urge to jump in. "Actually, I've already compiled a dossier on Shady Corners," you stated, your voice cutting through the air with confidence.

Steve paused, a hint of surprise crossing his features as he turned to you. "Oh, you have?" he asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

You nodded, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Yes, I took the liberty of gathering all the pertinent information," you replied, producing a file from your bag and handing it to Steve.

As Steve flipped through the dossier, his surprise was evident. "Well, it looks like you've done your homework," he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Natasha's gaze flickered between you and Steve, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Looks like we're in good hands," she quipped, a subtle acknowledgment of your preparedness.

“I would kill to be a fly on the wall,” Sam whistled.

Sam's remark drew a few chuckles from the team, his words laden with playful insinuation. 

Natasha's lips quirked into a wry smile, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes as she exchanged a glance with you. 

"I have a feeling it'll be quite the performance," Natasha replied, her tone dry but tinged with a hint of something you can’t quite place. 

Tony's announcement brought a sense of finality to the meeting, his hands clapping together with a decisive clap. "Great, you'll have a flight booked for the morning," he declared, his tone brimming with anticipation. With a nod to the team, he declared, "Meeting adjourned."

The tension in the room dissipated, replaced by an air of excitement and anticipation. 

With a grin, you exchanged a final glance with Natasha, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. 

This should be fun. 

********

So this marriage was turning out to be something you’re not fond of. Natasha had J.A.R.V.I.S. wake you up at the ass crack of dawn which you were able to ignore for a long while. Then came the pounding on the door of your bedroom before you finally awakened from your slumber to open it. You didn’t even bother to wipe the drool from your chin before you ripped the door open with a frown. 

As Natasha stood in front of you, her expression bordering on disapproval, you couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance bubbling within you. Her disdain for your choice of attire only fueled your defiance, and you squared your shoulders, refusing to back down.

"What?" you retorted, your voice tinged with irritation as you met Natasha's gaze head-on. "Flight is in three hours," she informed you, her tone clipped and businesslike.

You blinked in disbelief, the early hour registering belatedly in your sleep-addled mind. "You're kidding..." you muttered incredulously, turning to glance at the digital alarm clock on your nightstand. "It's three a.m."

Natasha's expression remained impassive, her gaze unwavering as she waited for your response. Despite the early hour and your less-than-ideal state of readiness, there was a steely determination in her eyes that took no argument.

With a resigned sigh, you realized that there was no use arguing with Natasha. 

"Come in, I guess," you grumbled begrudgingly, gesturing for Natasha to enter your less-than-impressive bedroom. It was far from the tidy, organized space you typically preferred, a reflection of your rebellious attitude toward your former living standards.

With a roll of your eyes, you strode over to your closet, rummaging through it to grab a suitcase. Meanwhile, Natasha remained near the door, her posture tense and guarded, as if she were bracing herself for whatever chaos might lie within your room.

You couldn't help but feel a bit of annoyance at Natasha's standoffish demeanor, but you pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. You began to toss clothes into your suitcase and prepared to leave. 

"We should maintain a few basic things between us," Natasha suggested, her tone matter-of-fact as she broached the topic of their fake marriage. "You know, for the sake of appearances."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Natasha's suggestion, a hint of skepticism creeping into your voice. "Such as?" you prompted, curious to hear her ideas on the matter.

Natasha paused for a moment, considering her response carefully. "Well, for starters, we should probably establish some ground rules," she replied, her gaze ripping from the dropped thongs you’d scraped up from the floor to toss into the hamper to your eyes. "Nothing too elaborate, just enough to sell the illusion of a real marriage."

You nodded in understanding. "Agreed," you replied, a sense of determination settling over you. “So quick to set up rules though. Shouldn’t we know more about each other? I mean, we’re supposed to be a married couple right.”

“I suppose,” Natasha sighed. “Is this going to turn into a 21-question thing?”

“No, not right now,” You shook your head as you zipped up your suitcase before you pushed it to the side. You grabbed another carry-on bag, stuffing your makeup and the rest of your toiletries inside of it. You disappeared into the bathroom where you quickly brushed your teeth and washed your face. 

This left Natasha alone to her vices. Though she never moved from her spot she noticed things only a spy would. Her eyes landed on the books haphazardly stacked on your nightstand, and one in particular caught her attention—the "Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois." The choice of literature spoke volumes about your intellectual depth and cultural interests.

Moving her eyes around the room, Natasha's eyes lingered on the movie posters on the walls. 

In the corner, she noticed a collection of paint easels. 

With each observation, Natasha's respect for you grew. There was more to you than met the eye. 

“Right now, I need coffee,” You mumbled as you dragged yourself out of the room and past her. J.A.R.V.I.S. would lock the door for you. 

“Seriously? “ Natasha asked asked incredulously, her voice cutting through the air as you hurried past. 

“You won’t like who I become when I’m hungry,” You rolled your eyes. If she was going to have you up this early, the least she could do was not judge your choices. 

You made a beeline for the kitchen, groaning as the harsh fluorescent lights automatically flickered on. Tony needed to update these settings for something dimmer and less jarring. Ignoring the discomfort, you forced a K-cup into the Keurig, desperate for the promise of caffeine to wake you up.

As you turned around, you were met with the sight of Natasha sitting at the counter, her gaze fixed on you with a fierce intensity.

"I hope you're going to take all of this seriously," Natasha said, her tone firm and unwavering.

You paused, meeting Natasha's gaze with determination. Despite your initial reservations about the mission, you knew that Natasha was right. This wasn't just a game—it was a high-stakes operation that required your full commitment.

"Of course I am," you replied, your voice steady despite the tiredness that still lingered in your bones. 

Natasha studied you for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then, with a nod of acknowledgment, she rose from her seat and joined you at the counter. Together, you prepared your coffees in silence, each lost in your thoughts. 

"You take it black?" You asked, tilting your head inquisitively as you prepared your coffee.

"What? Like my heart?" Natasha replied with a wry smile, her tone laced with a hint of humor.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Natasha's retort. "Fair enough," you remarked, handing her a steaming cup of coffee. "To black coffee and black hearts, then."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "To get the job done," she countered, clinking her cup against yours in a silent toast. “Now can we get to the airport please, before we’re late?” 

“Oh, we won’t be late. I want to enjoy this.” You hummed. 

It was then that Natasha reached up to remove the baseball cap from her head, her movements fluid and practiced. As she fluffed her hair, you expected to see her familiar luscious red locks cascade down her shoulders. However, to your surprise, the vibrant red was replaced by a cascade of blonde hair.

You blinked in astonishment, momentarily taken aback by the sudden transformation. How had she bleached it so quickly? Had she slept at all? Natasha's hair was iconic—her fiery red locks were as much a part of her identity as her skills as a spy. 

As you adjust to the surprise of her sudden hair transformation, you couldn't help but blurt out, "Whoa, blonde? I never would've guessed. You look... different."

Your words hung in the air for a moment, and you immediately regretted them as you noticed a subtle shift in Natasha's demeanor. Her smirk faded, replaced by a stern look that hinted at a simmering annoyance beneath the surface.

Natasha's jaw tightened imperceptibly, her green eyes flashing with a hint of irritation. "Different?" she echoed, her tone cool and clipped. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

You winced, realizing too late that your comment had struck a nerve. "I... I didn't mean it like that," you stammered, scrambling to backpedal. "I just meant, um, it's a change, you know? But you still look great, of course."

Natasha's expression softened slightly at your attempt to smooth things over, but the tension lingered between you. "Thanks," she replied tersely, her tone still tinged with annoyance. “We’re going to be late,” Natasha mumbled as she dumped the rest of her coffee into the sink. 

“We’re not going to be late.” You called after her. 

******************

"So, you're telling me no more flights are heading to Miami today?" You asked the flight attendant, a hint of irritation coloring your voice.

"No, ma'am, unfortunately, we're booked up for the entire week," the flight attendant replied apologetically, her tone sympathetic.

You sighed, frustration mounting as you realized the setback to your plans. "Is there anything you can do? It's urgent," you pressed. 

The flight attendant shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but all our flights are fully booked. You might have better luck with another airline," she suggested.

You couldn't believe it. You can't believe it. Because you were late, your seats were given to some other lucky couple.

Frustration bubbled up within you as you stood there, watching helplessly as the plane doors closed without you. 

Natasha's sharp gaze bore into you, a silent reminder of the consequences of your tardiness. You knew you had messed up, and now you were paying the price.

"We need to figure out our next move," Natasha stated firmly, her voice cutting through the chaos of the airport.

"We could rent a car," you suggested, hoping to salvage the situation with a practical solution.

"And drive a car to Florida for twenty-three hours with you?" Natasha replied tersely, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You bristled at her sharp retort, feeling a pang of offense at her implication. "Of course," you nodded, trying to maintain your composure. "Unless you have any other suggestions. Flying a Quinjet into Miami isn't exactly subtle of us."

Natasha's expression softened slightly at your response, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. "Fair point," she conceded, her tone less biting than before. "I’m choosing the car."

“Anything for you honey,” You shook your head, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Natasha shot you a pointed look. Apparently, nicknames were off the table. 

As you and Natasha approached the rental car lot, you expected her to gravitate towards something sleek and inconspicuous. So, when she pointed towards a sporty sedan with ample trunk space, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"Really? This one?" You asked, your voice laced with skepticism.

"Trust me," she replied cryptically, her tone giving nothing away.

“Okay, but you’re driving,” You tossed your suitcases in the trunk. 

“Why can’t you drive?” Natasha frowned. “You are the one that made us late.”  

You winced at Natasha's accusation, knowing she had a point. "Fair enough," you conceded, feeling a pang of guilt for your role in the tardiness. "But I'm exhausted from all the stress of the morning. Besides, you're the expert driver, remember?"

Natasha's frown softened slightly at your admission, but she remained skeptical. "Fine," she relented begrudgingly, sliding into the driver's seat. "But don't think this lets you off the hook."

“I wouldn’t dream of it, honey,” You grinned, pushing your sunglasses onto your face. 

Natasha shot you a withering glare at the nickname, her expression bordering on annoyance. "Don't call me that," she muttered shortly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You raised your hands in mock surrender, unable to suppress a smirk at her reaction. "Got it," you replied, making a mental note to refrain from using any more nicknames in the future. “Can I call you baby?” You asked unable to resist pushing her buttons further. 

Natasha's expression darkened, her icy glare intensifying at the suggestion. "Absolutely not," she retorted firmly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

You chuckled softly, realizing you had crossed a line, but the temptation to tease Natasha was too strong to resist. "Just thought I'd ask," you replied with a shrug, settling back into your seat as Natasha revved the engine, ready to hit the road.

Twenty-three hours until Miami. -------> part 2

[allfearstofallto]

What would Yuri (your yandere bulter OC) do if his lady had an arranged marriege and was meeting the person she was arranged to marry with?

(Y'all make me so happy I could die!! I've been unironically imagining this scenerio for months!!!)

Yandere! Male OC x Reader

“You're much too young to be wed,” Yuri whined softly as his cold finger tips helped you latch the clip of your necklace. A beautiful, pink gem nestled in the center of the neckware drew attention to your bare collar bone, the radiant skin of your chest, and the lovely smile you had just above it. Yet another piece of jewelry your mother had sent you from her travels, she had such a taste for things you liked, despite hardly being around.

You merely scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes in the tandum. While he tied your hair up, you dusted yourself with perfumed powder, staring at yourself the entire time, “You must be insane, Yuri. I'm actually past the average marrying age.”

That much was true. Girls of your status typically married much much younger, usually right after coming of age. Even you yourself received many letters begging for a chance to meet after your debutante, which Yuri would swiftly burn in your fire place when you expressed your distate. You had things holding you back. You longed for schooling, travel, and a the freedom of being young and not tied down. Both your father and Yuri took this news excitedly and never pushed for you to get wed. They both even excitedly told you that you'd never have to leave the manor and if you so pleased, you'd be pampered for the rest of your life.

It sounded nice in theory, living off of your fathers wealth and being a bachelorette until the day you died, but many women at your tea parties were talking about their prospects, fiances, and even their husbands, and suddenly you felt as if you could no longer relate anymore. And the even more harsh realization hit you, that you were lonely. You'd sit quietly at the table, sipping your tea nervously and realizing that maybe it was time for you to begin viewing romance in a different light, not as a hindrance chaining you down, but a new beginning in life.

Your father was expectedly saddened by your announcement and Yuri…well, Yuri’s expression was hard to read. He stood silently for a bit, his lips formed in a tight line, eyebrows starting to furrow a bit behind his thick, round glasses. It was a face you'd never seen him make before, him typically preferring laid back or soft expression.

“You can't actually be serious, my lady,” Yuri forced himself to not sound more hurt than he actually was, but if you listened closely, you could hear his voice tremble, “You always said you'd stay in the manor forever.”

You glanced at yourself once over again in your full body mirror, feeling shy and almost slightly over dressed in the gown you chose. It was such a strange feeling, the way your heart was thumping in your chest, and you couldn't tell if it was excitement or nerves. You could see Yuri behind you in your reflection, a frown still formed on his lips.

“I said that when I was eight! You can't trust the words of a child,”

Yuri sighed again, pushing his snow, white hair out of his face in a sign of stress. A stress reflex that you seldom saw him do. Yuri was a man that was so calm and composed, yet today he was showing so much anxiety. And for what, you'd didn't know.

“Then what of me? This man you're meeting, he's the Duke two cities over. I am here to serve you, my lady, won't I go with you?”

“I'd hate to uproot your life, Yuri,” you began with a sad tone. You couldn't fathom the idea that he could look any sadder, yet as you spoke, his face fell even farther, “B-but mother will be home shortly! She sent a letter saying that it will only be a few more weeks, you could still stay in the manor and tend to her instead.”

Your suggestion is met with a shallow, solemn shake of his head, “You are my life, my lady. I wish to serve no one else.”

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Smutty Kol mikaelson headcanons?

mmm smutty kol… i need to get back into the swing of writing for him!

okay. i have so many WIPs where he's more dominant, but have only posted one smut of him and he's submissive in that one. that being said, i can see him going both ways.

also, in general, idk why i started doing my hcs like this, but i can switch them back to the other format if preferred

tw: cnc / dub / non section; minor noncon mentioned

he's definitely experienced & mostly dominant

he's been alive since the dawn of time

he's an original vampire & whether or not he reveals that status, he will embody it by being the more dominant one in the relationship / situationship

and as charming & flirtatious as he is, it's safe to say he's got a lot of experience under his belt (HA - accidental pun)

that is to say, though, he's probably never been super serious about any of his flings

until, ofc, he meets the one that he absolutely falls for, and none of those hookups matter + he's lost interest in anyone else

1920s - little subsection for if you met him in this decade

okay so i read about this thing that happened in the 1920s called "petting parties," where PDA and sex weren't really acceptable, so people would have these orgy-type things centered around heavy petting and i can see that as SUCH a kol thing

i was actually going to write something based on that idea but need to do more research on it first

but kol would be so engaged with something scandalous (for the time) like that

he'd have girls worshipping him for the way he touches them; for the feel of his fingertips against their skin; the way he undresses them with his eyes, both parties wishing they could strip themselves of the last layer of separating fabric

he'd get into so much trouble in the 20s for this kind of stuff

flirting with other men's women, making crude hand gestures under tables to turn them on

he knows how to lay on the charm and fit in with the 20s, but he has the sexual appetite and style of a modern man

ofc, those words being nothing negative, but instead just him knowing how to be rough and how to please

modern day

likes the vulgarity & speed of modern sex

likes that he can strip a girl of her clothes and pin her to the wall and she welcomes it

likes that there aren't a thousand eyes watching his every move; likes the freedom & lack of rules nowadays

he wasn't around for the sexual revolution of the 80s (thanks, klaus 😞), but he would've relished it

all the young women looking to finally express themselves sexually; him giving them the best first experience he could deliver

despite all that, though, he loves the tender, loving sex of being with someone he knows, once in a while

he appreciates it more once he gets into a stable relationship, but sometimes his menial hook-ups were on the gentle side, too

modern day in an established relationship

rougher by nature, but can certainly be sweet, and often is

slow & passionate, kissing all over - forehead, neck, down your stomach, chest

roughness or gentleness depends on his mood

depends on your mood, too, because he cares & won't ever push you into something

respects boundaries if you say no

he maybe wasn't always like that, but when he started running with witches, he learned a specific respect & appreciation for others, especially women & those he'd sleep with

so, when he wants to have a long-term relationship with you, he really puts in the effort to be the best he can be

he wants you to know he loves you and shows it

kinks

so i read a fic about this, and i can see it fitting him 100% - some kind of predator / prey; hunting / hunted type dynamic, where he stalks & hunts you & then when he finally catches you off guard, fucks the daylights outta you up against a tree

very much a kol thing

throw a knife in the mix, too

you're pinned to a tree with a knife at your throat and his fingers are underneath your clothes, pleasuring you out of sight

bonus points if it's at night. or, if he hunted you all day and finally caught you at night. by now, he's extremely hungry

speaking of hunger, let's not forget about feeding

he definitely fed on most of the girls he railed in one night stands, but if it were a person he loved, he wouldn't feed until he knew he had enough control to not hurt them

the most intimate situation he can imagine is slow, passionate sex with blood sharing at the end

him drinking from you, then healing you back with his blood, or a mutual feeding if you're a vampire, too

first time with him with someone who just turned, he'd be very gentle, knowing how difficult the transition is

giving into every single need, including offering his own vein when the blackness starts to form under your eyes

i'm not sure kol would be into exhibitionism, but pda and public flirting, certainly

flirting across the bar at the grill, beckoning you closer with his eyes, then (mostly tasteful) jokes once you sit next to him

even when you're dating, flirts like you're strangers and he's still trying for your attention, just for the thrill

though places that are kinda hidden but kinda public, he loves to take you into those for a quick time ;)

bathroom stalls, dressing rooms, janitor closets, the whole lot

also... shower sex

he'd think it'd be a great idea even if you're skeptical

but you agree & it's ofc, a disaster, bc it never actually works out like it does in tv

but you make it fun anyway & he has a very strong hand on you to keep you from slipping

now, klaus' room, i think, he'd love to take you in there as a "fuck you" to his brother after a fight

an orgy type of guy, i think, as long as you're consenting of it

and then gives you all his love & attention afterwards when you get jealous of one person in particular

makes up with gifts & a very long night in the bedroom, with lots of aftercare

witch!kol would 100% tease you in public

it's over for you once he discovers vibrating panties

sometimes gets turned on by you at the worst possible times

you stand up to him against one of his brothers? yes

you fight off an enemy all by yourself? yes

even if you're joking around and fit a whole doughnut in your mouth or something, he's dtf

and his response to your shock is always along the lines of, "i can't control it!"

if he's in a submissive mood

is submissive at times, and some times, needs you to be more dominant

especially when esther is around

i can see kol having mommy issues & needing that reassurance

but it would take a certain level of trust for him to be comfortable telling you that

at first, you were surprised at how submissive he got, but then you were happy to provide what he needed

he's very appreciative of your comfort & lack of judgement when he gets in that type of headspace & makes sure to shower you in thanks & kisses when he "wakes up" from it

tw: cnc / dub / non

can't see him being into this, especially in a relationship

except for the desire to hunt you, i don't think he'd be into it straight up

as previously mentioned, pre-witch hanging-out, he might've had a few incidents that were a little questionable, but he's straightened out & learns that those incidents were wrong & does not repeat them

his biggest offense in one of those situations was probably nonconsensual blood drinking that turned him on

was still kind of a baby, psycho vampire when it happened, & he probably still regrets it to this day

dubcon, though, where you're both drunk after a night of bar flirting, he's into

like, if you were used as a distraction for him when caroline was used to distract klaus

you're both drinking way too much and one thing leads to another and then you find yourself in the mikaelson mansion in the morning like 🤷‍♂️

he makes sure you don't regret it, though, and you don't

calms his worried little not-beating heart

somnophilia, given explicit consent beforehand, he would like

the prospect of you waking up full of him, or with him delivering pleasure via tongue or fingers

you wake up and the first thing you feel is pleasure brought on by him - he loves that concept

[theweightofthecaravel]

Defiance & Duty - J.T.K. (one shot)

Warnings : swearing, threats of violence, intimacy.

“I shall always remain by your side, my Lady.”

A rebellious princess meets a disciplinary knight. It is a recipe for disaster, is it not?

“Tsk, tsk.”

This was a familiar phrase between the two of you. Your knight, Sir Jacob, was personally assigned to guard you. Ever since you were caught sneaking out of the castle to see the village boys that you had taken a liking to, the King has been very restrictive with your freedoms. Your reputation of the ‘rebellious princess’ had become a kingdom-wide phenomenon. But you grew to embrace it, for it was very fitting, no matter how unflattering it may seem to the others in your community that your family ruled over.

Your guard, Sir Jacob, was one of the most respected warriors in the entire kingdom. With his long brunette hair, always half up, half down, a chiseled jawline, and the most beautiful brown eyes, he was irresistible in the eyes of the women in the kingdom. However, he never tended to bat an eye at any woman besides you. He was your guard, and you were his top priority.

He has had many titles before being a knight. He was a commanding figure in your army, a trainer for the younger generation of soldiers, and at one point, a pirate. Nonetheless, your father admired him greatly as a fighter. He seemed perfect for the job, which was very unfortunate for you.

It had happened once again. After sundown, you managed to evade your guard and escape the palace grounds. But not for long.

When the news reached the castle that you went missing again, Sir Jacob relentlessly tracked you down. He left the palace in the dead of night, and he found you precisely where he had predicted you would be.

You were in the forest with the village boy, your tongues intertwining in an overdramatic and sickening fashion, partially because you sensed the knight’s presence. You pulled away from the common man, gasping for air.

“Your Majesty,” Jacob stated aloud, interrupting the ‘romantic’ moment. But when you did not seem to hear him the first time, he repeated himself, only much louder this time. “Your. Majesty.”

The boy jumped, but you remained perfectly still, as you had anticipated the one man audience of your guardian. You roll your eyes at Jacob, groaning loudly.

“What?” you asked, reluctantly untangling yourself from the nameless man.

Sir Jacob glared at you, his stare filled with disappointment and frustration. He placed his hands on his hips, raising his eyebrows at you. He then aims the same look at the young lover the princess had taken.

“Beat it, kid,” Jacob commanded.

The stranger boy scoffed at him, puffing out his chest in an effort to enhance his belittled masculinity. He clenched his fists and raised them, preparing for a possible confrontation with the knight.

“Yeah?” the man asked. “Right. What are you gonna do if I refuse to leave her side? She clearly does not want you here. Get lost, jackass, before I have to put you in your goddamn place with her as the only witness.”

With that, Sir Jacob grabbed the hilt of his sword, and withdrew it from his side. He held it it to the princess’s lover, placing it in the center of his chest, the perfect place to impale him straight through. He lightly pierced the skin where his weapon lied against him, threatening to cut further inside him.

“Look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you, commoner. Believe me when I say that I shall cut you down to size if you do not leave this instant. You have a choice here. Either leave her Majesty alone, or you better decide what your last words ever spoken shall be.”

The man laughed, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“Oh no!” he jokingly cried out. “Whatever shall I do? I am at your mercy, sire! Spare me!”

The common one cackled, clearly amused with his lack of maturity. Jacob, however, did not find this as funny as he obviously did.

“Leave at once, you frothy, earth-vexing common scum. Or shall I slit that slimy little throat of yours in front of your beloved lady?”

With that, the common man stood up, nearly shaking in his trousers. With the touch of the blade, he sobered his attitude faster than the speed of sound, as if it was a lightning quick reflex. He looked down at the forest floor, fidgeting with his trembling hands.

“S-s-sorry, sir,” he stuttered. “It…it will n-never happen again…sir…”

The village boy scurried off, barely giving you another look, terrified of being further scrutinized by your guard. With that, Jacob did his best to hide a smirk of satisfaction. He bit his lip, looking you in the eyes. He pointed the sword at you.

“Look,” he started, using the blade to lift your chin up to meet his gaze. “We are both tired of the speech that I give you every time I catch you with that runt. So let us cut to the chase, okay, highness? You are a wreck. A lying, irresponsible, immature wreck. You better get your act together if you ever want a chance of being Queen someday. If you keep behaving in such a manner, his Majesty will have you tossed into the dungeons without a second thought. Understood?”

You frowned at him, exhausted of hearing the spiel about your future. It was something you had been hearing all of your life, and the older you got, the more annoying the topic became.

“I know,” you muttered, crossing your arms. You pushed his sword down, back by his side. You stood up, and looked down at the ground. “I know. You need not remind me of my impending fate.”

Sir Jacob rolled his eyes at you, and put his sword back at his side. He grabbed your arm harshly, dragging you to his side. He huffed under his breath, clenching his jaw as he tried to control his temper.

“It is a bloody miracle that I have not slaughtered that slobbish common boy yet. Come on, your Highness. Your father is going to be very furious. You better pray that he is asleep by the time we get back to the palace grounds, but nothing will save you from his morning wrath after I report to him.”

You looked up at him, anger filling your body. You took your arm back, walking alongside him. You had just about enough of his attitude towards you lately, similarly to how he felt with you.

“You ruin everything,” you muttered, sounding like a child who did not get their way. “I cannot have freedom, I cannot have a lover who is not some pompous prince, and worst of all, I am stuck having to deal with your overprotective ass. Don’t you have anything better to do with your spare time? Like kissing my father’s bottom?”

Jacob laughed coldly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers to resist the strong urge of possibly strangling her.

“See, that is your issue. You have everything you could ever want at your fingertips. Power over thousands of people, a massive palace filled with loyal servants, and a knight who has tried his best to keep you out of trouble. You take it all for granted. You are the most spoiled, selfish brat I have ever come across, and believe me, you are not the first noblewoman I have looked after.”

You walked ahead of him, heading back to the castle. You crossed your arms, dramatically huffing to make a point to your guard. So much for a “knight in shining armor”. Everything that man did pissed you off to your core. You thought that having a guard would make you feel safe and important. But no. You were treated as if you were a newborn baby who could not be let out of his sight for more than a millisecond.

As you two arrive at the palace gate, the standing guards allowed the both of you inside. You remained ahead of Sir Jacob, as you had nothing kind to say to him, and everything you wished to say, you had said to before to him.

He followed you up to your chambers, standing a few feet away from you to give you your space. He kept his eyes on you, but you kept your gaze ahead, away from his presence entirely.

You enter through the doorway, and he closed it behind the two of you. He leaned against the wall, a look of frustration strewn across his face. His eyebrows knit tightly together as he examines your ashamed form standing before him.

“You know, this could have been way easier if you had just listened to me for once. But no! The ‘rebellious princess’ has to have the thickest skull out of anyone in the entire kingdom! My Lady, would it kill you to start thinking with your head instead of your ass?”

You quickly get changed into your nightgown while he is lecturing you. You usually tuned him out, but for some reason, you could not ignore him so easily tonight.

“You will never understand,” you say. “You have no idea what it is like to live in my shoes. I feel pity for anyone who does.”

Jacob pauses at that, his brows unfurrowing.

“What do you mean?” he inquired. “To be in love? Come on, don’t tell me it’s about that village boy. He was a goddamn coward!”

“Not him!” you shout out in a desperate attempt to interrupt him. “I do not like the man in the slightest fashion! Do you know why I feel the need to sneak out so much? To let strangers have their way with me? Because I hate being babysat, Jacob! I am sick of it! Don’t you get it? Being under constant surveillance is maddening! All I long for is a normal life!

“I have hated being trained to be perfect since I was a young girl. They have tried to groom me to be the best possible Queen-to-be I could possibly be. It is too much!”

Tears start to fill your eyes, much to your opposition. You turn away from the knight, quickly wiping them away and swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Please…” you beg, looking out your window. “Do not tell my father what happened tonight. I…I cannot deal with another one of his disappointed lectures. Save us all the trouble, and…in the morning, I shall request a new guard. You will not have to deal with me anymore…and you can…do whatever it is you wish.”

Jacob’s mouth drops slightly. He quickly regains his composure, and clenches his fists at his sides.

“You will not do such a thing,” he declares, attempting to keep his temper in check. “You are going to sit your ass on that bed and listen to me. Now.”

Without hesitation, you position yourself on the bed, placing your hands in your lap. You look up to him, gesturing for him to continue. He walks over to you.

“Look,” he says. “I know it is not easy to have all the attention on you. But you understand why people expect so much from you, yes? You are your father’s only daughter. You are the rightful heir. The people of your kingdom still see you as a reckless child, and that needs to change. Don’t you agree?”

You slowly nod, obliging to his statements. You fully understood what your coming future was filled with, but it was not something that you desired, and everyone knew it. However, no one could understand why.

Jacob noticed the remorseful look on your face. He put his hand on your shoulder and sat down next to you on your bed. He starts to massage where his hand was placed, slowly yet deliberately.

“Hey,” he whispered into your ear in a gentler tone. “Look at me, princess.”

You hesitantly look up to meet the gaze of your guardian. For once, his gaze is not scrutinizing, or disappointing. More the first time, it is rather kind. He feigns a weak smile, something you rarely get to see. You can see his dimples more clearly than ever, which you did not have the slightest idea that they were ever there.

“You are not replacing me, you hear? You may be a massive pain in my ass, but I would not have it any other way, your Majesty.”

Jacob reaches for your hand, reluctantly taking it in his own. He raises it to his lips, planting a soft, lingering kiss against the back of it. As he starts to put your hand back down, your face contorts into a look of surprise. The kiss was not unenjoyable, not appalling, but rather nice.

“You kissed my hand…” you chuckle, still recovering from the initial shock. You pulled away slightly, not sure how to react to this unexpected display of affection. “Who are you? What happened to the man who called me a spoiled brat a few moments ago?”

Jacob lets out a small laugh under his breath, still holding your hand. He makes eye contact with you, giving a more genuine smile to you.

“Maybe…I do not think you are not the most…pretentious person…”

You laugh, leaning closer to him. He really did not think of you in such a negative light? That seemed false, too far fetched to be the truth. As he continues to maintain eye contact, you feel the previous intensity fading away with every passing second.

“Why are you not screaming at me right now?” you ask, trying to hold in giggles. “I snuck out, I went against not only your orders, but the King’s as well, and I yelled at you in the pit of an emotional explosion. Somehow, after all of that, you do not hate every fiber of my being?”

Jacob shakes his head, finally standing up from the bed. His hand slowly slips from its previous grip. But he does not go far. He stands in front of you. He slowly removes his dagger from his weapons belt. He places it under your chin, tilting it up to bring the heavy eye contact back to life. The cold metal making contact with your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

“Listen carefully, princess. I could never hate you. Sure, I hate the decisions you make, I hate your taste in men, I hate that you do not look at me the way you look at those common boys you were messing around with in the village.”

You freeze at that. What did he mean? You did not exactly like the common men, you had simply messed around with them for the sole purpose of needing a measly distraction, and for the purpose of causing a certain someone to feel immense jealousy.

“I do not…I…I do not like any of those men. I only…I only did what I did…because I wanted…I wanted to get your attention…”

Jacob looks at you, his eyes widening a bit. He did not expect such a response from you. He had always thought that you were acting out for the sole purpose of pissing him off, making a statement. But instead, it was all to capture his interest.

“However do you mean, my lady?” he asks you. “You…why would you desire for my attention? I thought you had taken a strong disliking to me.”

You sit up straighter, playing with the multitude of golden rings, all differing from each other, on your fingers. You let out a soft sigh.

“I am not entirely sure. Perhaps it is the feeling of the chase, the relentless pursuit in which you find me. There is an unspoken thrill in the thick of it all…even if I do have to bear the burden of hearing your lectures afterwards. It is rather embarrassing to admit, but…I really enjoy it when you come and find me. It…it almost feels like someone cares enough to find me.

“Every other guard my father has assigned to me in the past, they lacked character. They lacked a backbone. But then, he chose you. You are as stubborn as me, if not more. You always track me down, when the others would simply give up. ‘She shall come back’, they would say. ‘She always comes back’.

“But not you. Even if it is for the tenth time that week, you still manage to find me. You are the most determined person I know, some days it drives me absolutely mad. But I cannot deny that it is rather admirable.”

Sir Jacob chuckles at that, putting his dagger back at his side. You had never seen him smile so much within a small interval of time like this. It was a strange, but not unpleasant sight. He shakes his head slightly at you.

“I had no idea you could be kind, princess. You have not made any snarky remarks these past few moments, my my, that must be a bloody new record!”

You both exchange laughs. You had to agree. It was the first time you had not hit him back with a snotty comment. It was refreshing, more than anything.

“Yeah,” you say, grinning. “I suppose it is.”

You two sit in silence for a brief passing moment, enjoying each others company. For once, you were not at war, but instead at peace.

“I suppose I better let you get some rest,” Jacob tells you, lightly patting your leg “It is rather late, and I can imagine how exhausted you truly are. Do you need anything before I depart, my Lady?”

You meet his eyes again, smiling once more. You stand up from your bed, reaching out to intertwine his hands in yours. You look down as you hold them, rubbing your thumbs on the back of his.

“There is one thing I wish from you, and I only ask of it if you would desire to do it too.”

Jacob perks up at that statement, curious at to what you wish to ask for from him. He raises his eyebrows, silently letting you know that he was ready to hear out your request. You smile at that, giving his hands a light squeeze.

“It…is rather embarrassing…but would you…embrace me for a moment? It has been so long since I have had a proper hug.”

Jacob’s grin grows into a large smile, and he nods politely. Without another word, he wraps his arms around you, clinging to you tightly. You melt into the feeling of being secure, safe and sound at last. You bury your face into his shoulder, taking in his musky scent. He places his hands in your hair, massaging your scalp gently in an attempt to further comfort you.

“Thank you,” you mutter under your breath. “I know I have not been very kind to you lately. I am sorry.”

“It is okay,” he replies. “I know you must be under a lot of pressure. But you are not alone in that, yes? I shall always remain by your side, my Lady.”

Your face lights up at that, and you hold him tighter. You run your hand up and down his back, slowly and deliberately. He lets out a contended sigh, reluctant to release you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers, pulling back slightly so that he could reignite the previous eye contact with you. “But I must go now, princess.”

You can feel his breath on your face as he said farewell to you, and your eyes cannot help but fall on to his lips. He seems to follow your gaze, realizing what you were ogling at. His smile fades, as he loses control of himself. He gazes down at your own, his breath starting to become more ragged and labored.

“My…” he hoarsely whispers. “My Lady…”

“Yes?”

No other words are spoken. His hands move down to your waist, enclosing his arms around you. He leans his face down, inching closer to yours. Your noses touch, but neither of you openly react. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest, it’s normal rate skyrocketing.

Time stops. Your lips are mere inches apart. You know that if your father ever found out, he would have both of your heads. But you could not care in this moment. It is just you, and him, your knight in shining armor.

Suddenly, a knock comes from the door, causing Jacob to halt in his movements.

“Sir Jacob?” a voice calls from the other side of the chambers door. “Are you in there? King Arthur has requested to see you at once.”

Jacob stifles out a soft groan, pulling away from you.

“Yes,” he frustratedly replies. “I am coming. Give me a moment.”

With that, Jacob turns back to face you, his smile momentarily returning. He lifts your hand to his lips and plants a soft kiss.

“Until next time, my princess.”

A rosy blush spreads across your cheeks as he makes contact with your skin once again. You nod.

“That means tomorrow, when I sneak out again?” you joke.

He laughs, shaking his head.

“No more sneaking out. After all, there are no handsome knights like me out in that village, are there? Get some rest, love. I shall see you tomorrow, and hopefully not in the village. If you promise me that, I will not tell your father that I found you out with that boy tonight.”

You nod, letting your hands fall to each others sides. You curtsy to him as a sign of respect, and he bows to you.

“Goodnight, my Lady.”

“Goodnight, good sir.”

With that, he turns to the door. But he hesitates for a moment. He turns back to you, a confident look in his eyes. Within a second, he puts his hands on your hips, pulls you back against his chest, and plants a rough kiss to your lips.

After a few seconds, he pulls away, smirking down at you. He cups your cheek as he notices the look of shock strewn across your face, which was not a common look for you.

“Tsk tsk, darling. Did you really think I would leave you hanging like that?”

[eugenedebs1920]

This is Trump’s America. Him and reptilian alien, turtle variant, Mitch McConnell, not only their theft of Obama’s Supreme Court pick, not only rushing through Amy Barrett, in a breathtaking feat of hypocrisy, but the unlawful obstruction in the vetting of Kavanaugh, who, as fate would have it, not only takes rights away from women’s bodies by enacting (or removing)laws, turns out he is a serial sexual assailant, taking away a woman’s freedom to say no to what he will do to her body!

Ken Paxton and Greg Abbott are some of the most hideous humans on earth! Texas is the scrimmage game of how JD Vance and the psychopaths with the Heritage Foundation want America to be in accordance to their dystopian manifesto Project 2025 (and if you think Trump isn’t going to be using that playbook because he said so, you don’t know Donald Trump). Between Paxtons antidemocratic, unethical, countless lawsuits to disenfranchise voters in Texas, his case to get women’s medical records so if they go out of Texas to get medical treatment for a miscarriage, the government is aware and will jail her. Abbotts razor wire in the Rio Grande, his relentless disparagement and dehumanizing of immigrants, this is a glimpse of a future with a second Trump term.

Texas is huge! It’s very much a microcosm of America. Large, diverse cities on the gulf coast, a few scattered larger cities, and a very rural center. Austin, one of, if not the, #1 music city in America, very blue, large population, great place! Houston, and the surrounding areas. Massive population, heavy blue, large diversity. Dallas Ft. Worth. Red leaning yet purple, massive population. Then there’s a lot of rural desert area. It is voter suppression that keeps that state red. With its minority populations, the younger families in the major cities, the hip young areas. It should be blue, if not a close 50-50. Paxton was on Steve Bannons show in 2022 BRAGGING, LAUGHING, with Bannon on how he had taken the votes of 2 MILLION Texas voters away from them right before the 2020 election saying “Texas could have been one of those Biden states”. That’s the Republican Party!!! That’s Project 2025 and the 2nd Trump term. That is the microcosm of America if we don’t stop voting against our own interests (I’m looking at you MAGA) and start voting for those who will actually represent you and do their job according to the Constitution.

What kind of America does an 18 year old hopeful mother DIE because she’s having a miscarriage and can’t get the help she needs. Another young woman in Tx, 23, wanted a sibling for her 2 year old, at 16 weeks there’s a problem, the fetus dies. This 23 years old mother gets sepsis, has 40 hours of excruciating pain in a Texas emergency room as doctors look on and can’t do anything to save this 23 year old mom. She dies in the hospital after 40 hours of suffering. From sepsis needing an assisted miscarriage (an abortion)

That’s what the right can’t wrap their dogmatic little brains around! Abortion is not simply discarding a viable child, it women’s health! Things don’t always work out with pregnancies and a woman needs healthcare. Shes not doing it because she doesn’t respect life or whatever other misogynistic bullsh*t thing the anti abortion freaks say! Also! Mind your own f*cking business!! What a man and a woman decide when planning to have a family is their own private decision!

You know who does respect woman’s rights? You know who believes a woman should be in control of her own body? You know who respects the sanctity of life enough to keep a mother alive by allowing the reproductive healthcare she needs!? Kamala Harris.

For freedom, for Woman’s rights, for women’s LIVES!! Vote Kamala Harris

[hyperlexichypatia]

This survey of why parents are estranged from their adult children is such an interesting illustration of how neurobigotry functions in society and interpersonal relationships. People accuse their estranged family members of being Mad/neurodivergent, because Madness is synonymous with being at fault in a relationship. It's considered inherently Reasonable and Justified to cut ties with a Mad/neurodivergent person -- especially an untreated-by-choice Mad/neurodivergent person -- because to be Mad/neurodivergent is to be inherently wrong, inherently unreasonable, inherently burdensome, inherently the one who is not abiding by the social compact.

Or as one of my friends put it, "Mental illness exists as a sociopolitical concept of ontological wrongness."

One of the pervasively enduring aspects of neurobigotry is that people who have been abused by neurobigotry will, instead of rejecting neurobigotry, simply accept it and turn it around on their abusers. People think they're really onto something with "No, it is my abusive parents who are mentally ill and need therapy" or "No, it is the people in power who are mentally defective" or "Racism/capitalism/bigotry are the real mental illness!"

But you can't dismantle the master's house with the master's tools. Pathologizing your parents doesn't correct the power imbalance of being pathologized by them, and using pathologization as a way to convey wrongness is still reifying pathologization and neurobigotry.

The context of family estrangement reminds me of this thought process I started about the construction of "cults." When the anti-cult movement began, it was centered on family members of people who'd joined new religious movements. The premise that people who joined religious groups their families didn't approve of were victims of "cult brainwashing" who needed to be "rescued" and "deprogrammed" (against their will, of course) was a tool of controlling families trying to deny their (usually) adult children's right to freedom of religion and general life choices. The idea that "cults" caused family estrangement was an integral aspect of the moral panic around them.

But over the decades, the stigma on "cults" has shifted. The contemporary anti-cult movement is fueled by people who grew up in abusive religious communities and chose to leave. It's applied as often to older, larger, established religious groups as it is to newer, smaller ones. While the original anti-cult movement largely centered on parents trying to control their adult children, the newer anti-cult movement largely centers on adults who've broken away from their parents' control.

Except. Except. It still uses the pathologization framework established in the 1970s. It's still a reversal -- No, it is you, the parents, the church, the authority, who are the Mentally Ill, the cult, the deviant, the ones in need of being fixed -- rather than a rejection or reframing: Actually, young people should be free to choose their own path in life.

It's not only applied in relationships between parents and children -- it's even more commonly invoked in breakups between former friends or partners. People feel the need to establish which party was Mentally Ill and Needed Therapy as a proxy for which party was At Fault in the breakup. In reality, breaking up doesn't necessarily mean either party was At Fault, but it's more socially acceptable to say "We had to break up because he's Mentally Ill and Refused To Get Help" rather than "We just didn't get along." Discussions of bad and badly-ended relationships are just constant rounds of uno reverse allegations of Madness/neurodivergence.

One of my least favorite examples is trying to "rebut" the neuromisogynistic trope of "Women are crazy" with "Men cause women to become crazy." Why are you validating "Women are crazy" by trying to "explain" it? Why are you accepting the premise that "crazy" is a bad thing? Why are you reifying the idea that being "crazy" has to be "caused" by something "bad"? If a man says "I broke up with my ex-girlfriend because she's crazy!" why validate the neuromisogyny with "No, you're crazy!" or "You must have made her crazy!" instead of challenging it with "What's wrong with being 'crazy'? What does that have to do with anything?"

If someone says "I stopped speaking to my child because they refused to seek therapy," why validate the neurobigotry with "You're the one who needs therapy!" instead of challenging it with "Why is their choice whether or not to seek therapy any of your business?"

[macrolit]

NYT's Notable Books of 2023

Each year, we pore over thousands of new books, seeking out the best novels, memoirs, biographies, poetry collections, stories and more. Here are the standouts, selected by the staff of The New York Times Book Review.

AFTER SAPPHO by Selby Wynn Schwartz

Inspired by Sappho’s work, Schwartz’s debut novel offers an alternate history of creativity at the turn of the 20th century, one that centers queer women artists, writers and intellectuals who refused to accept society’s boundaries.

ALL THE SINNERS BLEED by S.A. Cosby

In his earlier thrillers, Cosby worked the outlaw side of the crime genre. In his new one — about a Black sheriff in a rural Southern town, searching for a serial killer who tortures Black children — he’s written a crackling good police procedural.

THE BEE STING by Paul Murray

In Murray’s boisterous tragicomic novel, a once wealthy Irish family struggles with both the aftermath of the 2008 financial crash and their own inner demons.

BIOGRAPHY OF X by Catherine Lacey

Lacey rewrites 20th-century U.S. history through the audacious fictional life story of X, a polarizing female performance artist who made her way from the South to New York City’s downtown art scene.

BIRNAM WOOD by Eleanor Catton

In this action-packed novel from a Booker Prize winner, a collective of activist gardeners crosses paths with a billionaire doomsday prepper on land they each want for different purposes.

BLACKOUTS by Justin Torres

This lyrical, genre-defying novel — winner of the 2023 National Book Award — explores what it means to be erased and how to persist after being wiped away.

BRIGHT YOUNG WOMEN by Jessica Knoll

In her third and most assured novel, Knoll shifts readers’ attention away from a notorious serial killer, Ted Bundy, and onto the lives — and deaths — of the women he killed. Perhaps for the first time in fiction, Knoll pooh-poohs Bundy's much ballyhooed intelligence, celebrating the promise and perspicacity of his victims instead.

CHAIN-GANG ALL-STARS by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

This satire — in which prison inmates duel on TV for a chance at freedom — makes readers complicit with the bloodthirsty fans sitting ringside. The fight scenes are so well written they demonstrate how easy it might be to accept a world this sick.

THE COVENANT OF WATER by Abraham Verghese

Verghese’s first novel since “Cutting for Stone�� follows generations of a family across 77 years in southwestern India as they contend with political strife and other troubles — capped by a shocking discovery made by the matriarch’s granddaughter, a doctor.

CROOK MANIFESTO by Colson Whitehead

Returning to the world of his novel “Harlem Shuffle,” Whitehead again uses a crime story to illuminate a singular neighborhood at a tipping point — here, Harlem in the 1970s.

THE DELUGE by Stephen Markley

Markley’s second novel confronts the scale and gravity of climate change, tracking a cadre of scientists and activists from the gathering storm of the Obama years to the super-typhoons of future decades. Immersive and ambitious, the book shows the range of its author’s gifts: polyphonic narration, silken sentences and elaborate world-building.

EASTBOUND by Maylis de Kerangal

In de Kerangal’s brief, lyrical novel, translated by Jessica Moore, a young Russian soldier on a trans-Siberian train decides to desert and turns to a civilian passenger, a Frenchwoman, for help.

EMILY WILDE’S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by Heather Fawcett

The world-building in this tale of a woman documenting a new kind of faerie is exquisite, and the characters are just as textured and richly drawn. This is the kind of folkloric fantasy that remembers the old, blood-ribboned source material about sacrifices and stolen children, but adds a modern gloss.

ENTER GHOST by Isabella Hammad

In Hammad’s second novel, a British Palestinian actor returns to her hometown in Israel to recover from a breakup and spend time with her family. Instead, she’s talked into joining a staging of “Hamlet” in the West Bank, where she has a political awakening.

FORBIDDEN NOTEBOOK by Alba de Céspedes

A best-selling novelist and prominent anti-Fascist in her native Italy, de Céspedes has lately fallen into unjust obscurity. Translated by Ann Goldstein, this elegant novel from the 1950s tells the story of a married mother, Valeria, whose life is transformed when she begins keeping a secret diary.

THE FRAUD by Zadie Smith

Based on a celebrated 19th-century trial in which the defendant was accused of impersonating a nobleman, Smith’s novel offers a vast panoply of London and the English countryside, and successfully locates the social controversies of an era in a handful of characters.

FROM FROM by Monica Youn

In her fourth book of verse, a svelte, intrepid foray into American racism, Youn turns a knowing eye on society’s love-hate relationship with what it sees as the “other.”

A GUEST IN THE HOUSE by Emily Carroll

After a lonely young woman marries a mild-mannered widower and moves into his home, she begins to wonder how his first wife actually died. This graphic novel alternates between black-and-white and overwhelming colors as it explores the mundane and the horrific.

THE HEAVEN & EARTH GROCERY STORE by James McBride

McBride’s latest, an intimate, big-hearted tale of community, opens with a human skeleton found in a well in the 1970s, and then flashes back to the past, to the ’20s and ’30s, to explore the town’s Black, Jewish and immigrant history.

HELLO BEAUTIFUL by Ann Napolitano

In her radiant fourth novel, Napolitano puts a fresh spin on the classic tale of four sisters and the man who joins their family. Take “Little Women,” move it to modern-day Chicago, add more intrigue, lots of basketball and a different kind of boy next door and you’ve got the bones of this thoroughly original story.

A HISTORY OF BURNING by Janika Oza

This remarkable debut novel tells the story of an extended Indo-Ugandan family that is displaced, settled and displaced again.

HOLLY by Stephen King

The scrappy private detective Holly Gibney (who appeared in “The Outsider” and several other novels) returns, this time taking on a missing-persons case that — in typical King fashion — unfolds into a tale of Dickensian proportions.

A HOUSE FOR ALICE by Diana Evans

This polyphonic novel traces one family’s reckoning after the patriarch dies in a fire, as his widow, a Nigerian immigrant, considers returning to her home country and the entire family re-examines the circumstances of their lives.

THE ILIAD by Homer

Emily Wilson’s propulsive new translation of the “Iliad” is buoyant and expressive; she wants this version to be read aloud, and it would certainly be fun to perform.

INK BLOOD SISTER SCRIBE by Emma Törzs

The sisters in Törzs's delightful debut have been raised to protect a collection of magic books that allow their keepers to do incredible things. Their story accelerates like a fugue, ably conducted to a tender conclusion.

KAIROS by Jenny Erpenbeck

This tale of a torrid, yearslong relationship between a young woman and a much older married man — translated from the German by Michael Hofmann — is both profound and moving.

KANTIKA by Elizabeth Graver

Inspired by the life of Graver’s maternal grandmother, this exquisitely imagined family saga spans cultures and continents as it traces the migrations of a Sephardic Jewish girl from turn-of-the-20th-century Constantinople to Barcelona, Havana and, finally, Queens, N.Y.

LAND OF MILK AND HONEY by C Pam Zhang

Zhang’s lush, keenly intelligent novel follows a chef who’s hired to cook for an “elite research community” in the Italian Alps, in a not-so-distant future where industrial-agricultural experiments in America’s heartland have blanketed the globe in a crop-smothering smog.

LONE WOMEN by Victor LaValle

The year is 1915, and the narrator of LaValle’s horror-tinged western has arrived in Montana to cultivate an unforgiving homestead. She’s looking for a fresh start as a single Black woman in a sparsely populated state, but the locked trunk she has in stow holds a terrifying secret.

MONICA by Daniel Clowes

In Clowes’s luminous new work, the titular character, abandoned by her mother as a child, endures a life of calamities before resolving to learn about her origins and track down her parents.

THE MOST SECRET MEMORY OF MEN by Mohamed Mbougar Sarr

Based on a true story and translated by Lara Vergnaud, Sarr’s novel — about a Senegalese writer brought low by a plagiarism scandal — asks sharp questions about the state of African literature in the West.

THE NEW NATURALS by Gabriel Bump

In Bump’s engrossing new novel, a young Black couple, mourning the loss of their newborn daughter and disillusioned with the world, start a utopian society — but tensions both internal and external soon threaten their dreams.

NORTH WOODS by Daniel Mason

Mason’s novel looks at the occupants of a single house in Massachusetts over several centuries, from colonial times to present day. An apple farmer, an abolitionist, a wealthy manufacturer: The book follows these lives and many others, with detours into natural history and crime reportage.

NOT EVEN THE DEAD by Juan Gómez Bárcena

An ex-conquistador in Spanish-ruled, 16th-century Mexico is asked to hunt down an Indigenous prophet in this novel by a leading writer in Spain, splendidly translated by Katie Whittemore. The epic search stretches across much of the continent and, as the author bends time and history, lasts centuries.

THE NURSERY by Szilvia Molnar

“I used to be a translator and now I am a milk bar.” So begins Molnar’s brilliant novel about a new mother falling apart within the four walls of her apartment.

OUR SHARE OF NIGHT by Mariana Enriquez

This dazzling, epic narrative, translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell, is a bewitching brew of mystery and myth, peopled by mediums who can summon “the Darkness” for a secret society of wealthy occultists seeking to preserve consciousness after death.

PINEAPPLE STREET by Jenny Jackson

Jackson’s smart, dishy debut novel embeds readers in an upper-crust Brooklyn Heights family — its real estate, its secrets, its just-like-you-and-me problems. Does money buy happiness? “Pineapple Street” asks a better question: Does it buy honesty?

THE REFORMATORY by Tananarive Due

Due’s latest — about a Black boy, Robert, who is wrongfully sentenced to a fictionalized version of Florida’s infamous and brutal Dozier School — is both an incisive examination of the lingering traumas of racism and a gripping, ghost-filled horror novel. “The novel’s extended, layered denouement is so heart-smashingly good, it made me late for work,” Randy Boyagoda wrote in his review. “I couldn’t stop reading.”

THE SAINT OF BRIGHT DOORS by Vajra Chandrasekera

Trained to kill by his mother and able to see demons, the protagonist of Chandrasekera’s stunning and lyrical novel flees his destiny as an assassin and winds up in a politically volatile metropolis.

SAME BED DIFFERENT DREAMS by Ed Park

Double agents, sinister corporations, slasher films, U.F.O.s — Park’s long-awaited second novel is packed to the gills with creative elements that enliven his acerbic, comedic and lyrical odyssey into Korean history and American paranoia.

TAKE WHAT YOU NEED by Idra Novey

This elegant novel resonates with implication beyond the taut contours of its central story line. In Novey’s deft hands, the complex relationship between a young woman and her former stepmother hints at the manifold divisions within America itself.

THIS OTHER EDEN by Paul Harding

In his latest novel, inspired by the true story of a devastating 1912 eviction in Maine that displaced an entire mixed-race fishing community, Harding turns that history into a lyrical tale about the fictional Apple Island on the cusp of destruction.

TOM LAKE by Ann Patchett

Locked down on the family’s northern Michigan cherry orchard, three sisters and their mother, a former actress whose long-ago summer fling went on to become a movie star, reflect on love and regret in Patchett’s quiet and reassuring Chekhovian novel.

THE UNSETTLED by Ayana Mathis

This novel follows three generations across time and place: a young mother trying to create a home for herself and her son in 1980s Philadelphia, and her mother, who is trying to save their Alabama hometown from white supremacists seeking to displace her from her land.

VICTORY CITY by Salman Rushdie

Rushdie’s new novel recounts the long life of Pampa Kampana, who creates an empire from magic seeds in 14th-century India. Her world is one of peace, where men and women are equal and all faiths welcome, but the story Rushdie tells is of a state that forever fails to live up to its ideals.

WE COULD BE SO GOOD by Cat Sebastian

This queer midcentury romance — about reporters who meet at work, become friends, move in together and fall in love — lingers on small, everyday acts like bringing home flowers with the groceries, things that loom large because they’re how we connect with others.

WESTERN LANE by Chetna Maroo

In this polished and disciplined debut novel, an 11-year-old Jain girl in London who has just lost her mother turns her attention to the game of squash — which in Maroo’s graceful telling becomes a way into the girl’s grief.

WITNESS by Jamel Brinkley

Set in Brooklyn, and featuring animal rescue workers, florists, volunteers, ghosts and UPS workers, Brinkley’s new collection meditates on what it means to see and be seen.

Y/N by Esther Yi

In this weird and wondrous novel, a bored young woman in thrall to a boy band buys a one-way ticket to Seoul.

YELLOWFACE by R.F. Kuang

Kuang’s first foray outside of the fantasy genre is a breezy and propulsive tale about a white woman who achieves tremendous literary success by stealing a manuscript from a recently deceased Asian friend and passing it off as her own.

[tremendouskoalachild]

what we know: The Acolyte was pitched sometime in early 2020. The Rise of Skywalker had just ended the movie saga. The Mandalorian, which kicked off disney+, had just finished its first season with great audience response. Lucasfilm was reorienting itself to streaming. Rayne Roberts loved the pitch, got Kathleen Kennedy who also loved it, and the show was greenlit.

the show premiered in summer 2024, after a generous marketing campaign (including a clip shown with The Phantom Menace rerelease, an original Victoria Monét song, and plenty of trailers and tv spots). multiple pieces of tie-in media were announced both before and during the show's airing (an Acolyte comic issue, a Kelnacca comic issue, a visual guide, an art reference book, two novels featurig show characters).

the high republic multimedia project (THR), in advanced development when the show was pitched and published continuously from early 2021, greatly influenced the show's development. the costuming is largely based on the look of THR, the show makes plenty of lore references, and includes a main character from the books in its main cast. THR material coming out in summer 2024 has "a century before The Acolyte" prominently on the cover, the upcoming show tie-ins are largely written by THR authors, and often feature other THR characters.

the show was expensive, with a long production period and a great focus on the technical aspects - building large elaborate sets, filming on location in Madeira, detailed stunt sequences with a lot of actor involvement, plenty of attention given to costumes, make-up and creature design. the cast included many high-profile actors. everything suggests the show had full confidence of lucasfilm.

what i'm gonna speculate: lucasfilm was playing the long game with this show, or hoping to. cancelling the show this early was unexpected.

in 2019 star wars was quite literally centered on the original trilogy. the seven decades or so around the OT contained all currently canon star wars media, even as the franchise was spoken of as one with 25,000 years of history. the following years would plug up even more empty spots on the timeline, with the projects often overlapping. this gave the writers much less creative freedom, which was the whole point of decanonizing all pre-2014 media aside from films and shows. over time, fans started clamoring for onscreen content set outside of the known eras, and there were more and more voices in and outside of the fandom exhausted with fanservice (the glup shitto phenomenon).

The Acolyte was set in a whole new era, as far as onscreen content goes, and its only legacy character was from children's and YA books most viewers wouldn't be familiar with. it was specifically introduced as a show you wouldn't need any homework for. it had actors prominent in entirely different contexts (Matrix. sitcom. Squid Game. YA. superhero movies. independent films. relationship dramas.) and the cast was pretty international.

the show had a lot specifically for established fans - you could say it was the most wide-reaching in its star wars references, incorporating elements from every trilogy, the animated shows, canon books, oldschool legends lore, video games. but i believe it was mostly meant to attract people who were not previously fans, and especially target demographics that were underrepresented in the fandom. draw in international audiences, young people who were around for other star wars properties but they never caught their interest, women who either weren't in the fandom or felt pushed away by the reaction to The Last Jedi.

lucasfilm execs definitely weren't planning for viewing numbers comparable to Obi-Wan Kenobi, or even Ahsoka, since those are characters people are already invested in. i think lucasfilm expected the show's audience to grow over a longer period, since plenty of people might check it out because it seems cool and they like an actor in it, and hopefully stick around to watch other star wars and become new fans of the franchise. the audience would get a chance to establish itself through new viewers watching it outside the couple weeks when it aired originally - it's a streaming platform, after all - and the show would have a solid fandom for its second season (which they were clearly planning to make).

these new fans would keep disney+ in order to check out other star wars shows and film, and keep buying star wars stuff over the hiatus. even if they were only into The Acolyte and their interest never expanded beyond that, there were many merchandising products and tie-in materials coming out. the comics and books would have connections to THR, hopefully getting an influx of readers before the initiative finishes next year and boosting sales of already published works. the THR readers who weren't interested in the show originally would see all their favorite authors writing stuff for it and check it out, too.

but then someone higher up decided to cancel it a month after airing so no i guess

[humansofnewyork]

(12/54) “She was brave in many ways. But there were three things that Mitra feared most: darkness, silence, and being alone. In Germany we’d take long walks through the countryside. Mitra couldn’t stand the quiet. She’d recite entire poems back-to-back-to-back. At the time she’d gotten into modern poetry. Her favorite poet was a young woman named Forough Farrokzhad. Mitra had many of her poems memorized. Farrokzhad was a modern poet. She wrote in free verse. She wrote from a feminine perspective. And she wrote about everything, including sex. By the time we finished Shahnameh I think I’d destroyed Mitra’s interest in the book. The book’s longest section is the historical section. Here the heroic nature of the prose fades. There are no more dragons. No more Rostam and Gordafarid. Here Ferdowsi writes about real people. He must stick to what is known. You can’t turn a real person into a mythic hero. That summer I took a road trip home to Iran. The Shah had just announced his White Revolution. It was a sweeping campaign of reform. Women were given the right to vote. Factory workers gained a share in profits. Agricultural estates were seized and redistributed to the sharecroppers who worked the fields. With a single stroke of his pen, the Shah gave more freedom to millions of Iranians. But not everyone supported it. When I arrived in Tehran the city was in chaos. Several buildings on my street were in flames. A cleric named Khomeini had come out against The White Revolution, and he’d ordered his followers to riot. Khomeini practiced a different kind of Islam. This was not the Islam of our fathers. This was not the Islam of the Persian Mystics. This was an Islam of cutting off hands, death for nonbelievers, and oppression of women. We thought these things were demons from our history. Monsters buried far in our past. But there’s a parable in 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪, where Rumi writes about a dragon frozen in a block of ice. The dragon seems to be dead. So the people place him on a cart and wheel him into the center of the city. They’ll soon discover that he’s still alive. He was only sleeping, waiting for things to heat up.”

 میترا در بسیاری کارها بی‌باک بود ولی از سه چیز می‌ترسید: تاریکی، سکوت و تنهایی. در آلمان به پیاده‌روی‌های طولانی پیرامون شهر می‌رفتیم. میترا تحمل خاموشی را نداشت. پی در پی شعرهایی را به طور کامل می‌خواند. در آن هنگام شاعر دلخواه او فروغ فرخزاد بود. فرخزاد شاعری نوگرا بود. او شاعر سبک نو بود. شعرهای او دیدگاه‌های زنانه داشتند. در هر زمینه‌ای می‌نوشت، حتا سکس. قشر مذهبی جامعه، او را زنی هرزه می‌خواند. میترا بسیاری از شعرهای او را به یاد سپرده بود. یک سال طول کشید تا شاهنامه را با هم خواندیم. هنگامی که خواندن را به پایان رساندیم، فکر می‌کنم از دلبستگی‌اش به شاهنامه کاسته بودم. بلندترین بخش کتاب بخش تاریخی آن است. در اینجا، سرشت حماسی سخن کم‌رنگ می‌شود. دیگر خبری از افسون و جادو نیست. از اژدها. از رستم و گردآفرید. در این بخش، فردوسی درباره‌ی انسان‌های واقعی می‌نویسد. هنگام نوشتن تاریخ باید به واقعیت‌ها پایبند بود. نمی‌توان شخصی عادی را به پهلوانی اسطوره‌ای تبدیل کرد. درآن تابستان، سفری زمینی به ایران داشتم. شاه به تازگی انقلاب سفید را اعلام کرده بود. یک کارزار فراگیر اصلاحات بود. زمین‌های کشاورزی زمین‌داران بزرگ به بهایی اندک به کشاورزانی که روی آن کار می‌کردند داده می‌شد. زنان از حق رأی برخوردار می‌شدند. سهمی از سود کارخانه‌ها به کارگران می‌رسید. در یک رفراندم به میلیون‌ها ایرانی آزادی بیشتری رسید. اما همه از آن پشتیبانی نمی‌کردند. هنگامی که به تهران رسیدم، چندین ساختمان را آتش زده بودند. یک روحانی به نام خمینی علیه انقلاب سفید قیام کرده و به پیروانش دستور شورش داده بود. خمینی به گونه‌ی دیگری از اسلام باور داشت. این اسلام پدران ما نبود. این اسلام عارفان ایرانی نبود. این اسلام بریدن دست‌ها و کشتن آزادی‌خواهان و ستمگری علیه زنان بود. اینها را اهریمنانی برخاسته از تاریخ‌مان می‌پنداشتیم. دیوهایی که در سال‌های دور به خاک سپرده بودیم. مولانا حکایتی در مثنوی دارد که در آن اژدهایی در تکه یخی منجمد شده است. گویی که مُرده است. از این‌ رو، مردم آن را بر ارابه‌ای نهاده و به مرکز شهر می‌برند. ولی بزودی در می‌یابند که اژدها هنوز زنده است. تنها در خواب بوده است و در آرزوی گرما. مرده بود و زنده گشت او از شگفت / اژدها بر خویش جنبیدن گرفت

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

By Julia Musto

Wearing a mask helps to prevent the spread of respiratory illnesses, according to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

Social media users slammed the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention after the federal agency shared a post recommending Americans wear a mask to help protect themselves against catching the flu.

“The best way to reduce your risk from seasonal flu is to get a flu vaccine but preventive actions like taking steps for cleaner air or wearing a mask are two additional ways you can protect yourself and others this fall,” the CDC said.

“Ugh go away,” responded X user @lovelycoconut.

“We are not wearing masks in big 2024,” said @newbootscoobin. “P**s off.”

A third user tried to get the attention of the platform’s Community Notes contributors, who work to provide context on “potentially misleading posts.”

And, another hit at the effectiveness of this year’s flu shot, citing a recent article in USA Today that detailed research finding this season’s trivalent influenza vaccine reduced the risk for hospitalization by 34 percent. The report cited a Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health associate professor who said experts typically expect that number to be around 50 percent. February data had found vaccines from last season had been 42 percent effective.

“It’s a little bit disappointing,” Dr Kawsar Talaat said. “This is on the lower end of what would be expected but not outside the range.”

Dr Jeremy Faust from Boston’s Brigham and Women’s Hospital pointed out that the figure is an average in an op-ed in The New York Times last week.

“Effectiveness also varied by age and other risk factors, and most likely differed based on when in the season people got their shots. It was 31 percent effective in older people and 59 percent effective for young adults with medical comorbidities, another important target group,” he said.

As vaccine effectiveness wanes over time, he advised people to wait for the next month or so and pointed out that many who have already gotten vaccines have lingering immunity. People who reliably get flu shots every year may have cumulative benefits. This year’s version protects against swine flu, the H3N2 virus, and a B/Victoria lineage virus.

The CDC says the best way to reduce the risk of seasonal flu remains getting the vaccine, but that preventative actions can also help to prevent respiratory illness. They instruct people to cover their mouth and nose, as influenza viruses are believed to spread mainly by droplets that are made when people sickened with flu cough, sneeze, or talk.

“Wearing a mask is an additional prevention strategy that you can choose to do to further protect yourself and others. When worn by a person with an infection, masks reduce the spread of the virus to others,” it says. “Masks can also protect wearers from breathing in infectious particles from people around them.”

Many people had fairly partisan reactions to mask recommendations during the height of the Covid pandemic. Many questioned their effectiveness in preventing the spread of Covid, with studies since then reaffirming guidance from health officials.

An Ohio Republican Senate candidate posted a video of himself burning a mask in 2021, with the caption: “Freedom.”

Currently, CDC wastewater activity for the Covid is low across the US and deaths are trending down. But, California counties have issued new mandates in health care settings this month.

Last year, more than 44,900 people were estimated to have died from flu complications.

Across all US states and territories, influenza levels remain minimal. But, peak flu season doesn’t hit until December and lasts through February.

Some social media users hypothesized that the CDC’s posts could be in response to recent human cases of H5N1, which is colloquially known as bird flu. California cases have recently surpassed double digits, and around 120 herds of livestock have also been infected.

“I suspect they are attempting to (badly) prepare the public for bird flu…” said @mo_journeys.

“CDC soft launching masks again as H5N1 continues to pose more and more problems,” wrote @veggiequeen420.

The first known case of transmission to a human in the US occurred just two years ago. While the CDC is watching the situation carefully and working with states to minimize exposure to H5 bird flu, it says the current public health risk is low. Japan, however, recently raised its risk to the highest level. More than half of cases worldwide from 2003 to April of this year resulted in death, according to the World Health Organization.

[kyriefae]

Being a Whovian is sincerely so much fun.

This show is so many different things to so many people but what I think truly makes it special is not just the change it forces on us as an audience but the way it pushes us subconsciously to give up on purism.

"Your Doctor" was <insert amiable character traits> but the current one doesn't represent that same persona? Pity. Almost like we can be different people all throughout our lives...

You ever hear someone say like..."it's fine it's just not for me"?

I wonder how many people who say that about the newest Doccy Who seasons genuinely think in their heart of hearts "actually this is garbage and you should agree with me that it is garbage" because those two are not the same thing at all! 🤭 Ugh, I can't help my incredulity sometimes. Maybe the internet adds to the expectation of toxicity. ...or I just spent a lot of time growing up around cynical assholes that hated fun. *shrug*

More to the point! 😅

Pick an era of this show; pick a doctor and you'll be transported to a world more or less unique to them. That's pretty cool if you ask me. They still have that silly multidimensional blue box; they still have two hearts (even if it didn't become canon until their 3rd incarnation)...and yes they still pick up stray humans (...usually young, petite British women from whatever decade said Doctor conveniently and sequentially visits).

But maybe to really hit home on what I mean about this show tackling purism in its audience's mind...it's always been a silly sci-fi show meant to elicit joy and wonder out of children. Additionally so, to help adults retain that same joy and wonder in their own lives by reflecting on the excitement that comes from infinite possibilities only possible when traveling with a genderfluid space alien that wears extraordinary clothes and hands out candy like it's already gone out of style. Oh and you become the universe's only hope the moment you step into another time or location lol.

Sometimes when we love something, we take it very seriously no matter how absurd it truly is at its core. We may not even notice we're doing it but any criticism of Doctor Who really ought to be taken with a grain of salt (and spread out at the very edge of creation...just for good measure). No need to get all salty over a television show. 🧂

So yeah. Being a Whovian, for me, is having the freedom to dive head first into an ocean of lore whenever I desire and really explore storytelling from several perspectives. Albeit many of the early years were written and directed and produced from the perspectives of white, straight men in the U.K. and stories with misogynist stances that heavily limited the functional roles of women in the context of said stories and were also affirmed by narratives and protagonists that failed to question any of it. *clearing throat* Oof, there was a frog back there!

All the same, our heroes of yesterday battled styrofoam monsters breaking through plywood walls built on cardboard sets represented by painted miniatures dangling on strings over a starlit portrait meant to look like space. Even when they couldn't help but be a bit cringe, they were still a silly lil sci-fi show playing at games of the imagination. Like children at play.

Now, we have this beautiful and talented man standing at center stage:

He is all the play; all the heart(s); all the joy we have known in this character but decorated in his own unique way.

My love for this show has evolved and I intend to allow it to continue doing just that. Hopefully we can continue to see the Whoniverse do just the same...instead of getting too caught up in the past. 🫣

Anywho, that's all for now.

Kisses 😘