#messaging system based
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deus-ex-mona · 9 months ago
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farewell, my idiot son…
#(aka my switch’s internals got fried so the repair shop had to format it to revive it: the tragicomedy)#(wait no on further inspection they seemed to have just given up on fixing it and gave me a whole other switch instead. lmao.)#(i wonder what happened to my old switch though…)#(farewell to all of my save data… thank heavens i didnt transfer anything over from past gens of pkmn)#(but aaaaaaaaa this shiny goo was a christmas present from a former acquaintance… rip squish you wouldve loved kimikawaii mv)#man… these past couple of days have been a *l o t*.#shoutout to [job recruitment company employee] who sent me a ‘hey the job wants you :)’ message#at the exact same time that i submitted a job application form for another company. it truly was a strange coincidence i think…#but… ehe… the… the job that wants me is offering $1k more than the monthly base salary i asked for… is… is this really ok…?#nothing’s confirmed yet. but. y’know. s t i l l . is it really ok for me to get paid so much for a job that lets me skip the morning commute#and while im still reeling from all of yesterday’s happenings… squish my dear shiny goo will never be seen again…#switch save system my b e l o a t h e d#so. long story short. take good care of your gadgets and gizmos guys.#then again. maybe im not the best person to say this… i mean. i’ve bricked like. 3 personal laptops in my lifetime…#and a phone sim card. and 2-3 nokia phones. and 3 android phones. and a tablet. and—#so. yeah. uh. it’s a good idea to take care of your stuff. especially if they’re fragile.#anyway. in memoriam of squish my idiot son im gonna try to find another shiny in sv this time. i hope i can find another…#but aaaaa the map in sv is pretty huge. um. i got lost like 10 times before even making it to school…#the friends are all just. so. friend-shaped. though… i like the sandwich pal. he has priorities.#looking forward to seeing how this story unfolds thoughh. i saw spoilers on twt but i need to know how the story even unfolds bc aaaa#ok that’s it idol sengen tl is now on an extended hiatus (ch 35 has just 7 pages left to go) till i complete this game. whenever it may be.#see y’all then~~~~~~~~~~~
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tj-crochets · 1 year ago
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Turns out it was not an error at the MRI facility, my insurance (which is literally the best insurance available in my area as an individual) just won't cover it* That is incredibly frustrating, both because what's the damn point of paying so much for health insurance if it doesn't cover testing, and because I get so much stuff from the insurance company about how they support preventative testing and care but when it's time to pay out they won't put their money where their mouth is. *technically they are "covering" it in that it was approved and the total cost will only be what they've negotiated with the MRI provider, but the insurance company isn't covering any of that cost. At all. None of it.
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rawliverandgoronspice · 9 months ago
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not sure it's my post to make particularly, but I do fucking hate how the concept of white guilt gets weaponized within white people ingroups to throw at each other in order to goad each other into emotional passivity, detachement and inaction, it's just so extremely not what the concept is about initially and is actually still an extension of white guilt it turns out!!! as it's still reacting to that idea and concerned by trying to sever oneself from its perceived effects, regardless of what those are and what they do and what bigger picture they exist in!!!! anyway.
#thoughts#personal#bad weird takes#I have seen SO many posts weaponizing white guilt as a thing you should be ashamed of recently#and therefore (generally) you should stop openly caring about palestine and in-community discordant voices from minorities!!#funny how that always goes#the appeal to reason very often opposed to “white guilt” in these messages is also... very revealing imo#like ok are we still on the Emotions VS Reason dychotomy as if the two cannot coexist and inform each other#as if this very dychotomy isn't based on pretty eurocentric imperialist ideas (with sexism sprinkled ontop)#and also the notion that you're stupid and childish if you feel guilty about the state of the world and your complicity in it#is fucking weird???#it's not bad to interrogate how we can offset the systems of oppression we benefit from!!! what is going on!!!#it's bad to use white guilt to center one's feelings over marginalized communities and how to be actually helpful sure!!!#and it's bad (unhelpful) to let guilt freeze us into inaction!! of course!!#but this is very much not what this is about whenever mentioned in these examples?#here it's the very concept that you “feel bad because of privilege” that is bad. it's just bad inherently apparently.#there seems to be weirdass mental gymnastics happening that seem to imply that it's actually based and epic to not feel white guilt#as if??? I don't know it would dissociate you from the causes??? ???? who knows#and so somehow!!! being a “more conscienscious” ally is to ignore marginalized communities' clear calls to action apparently!!#as you wouldn't want to burden them with your your embarassing urge to be helpful :/#REAL victims are being burdened by your behavior see. :/ no you can't talk to them nor see them they're conveniently always offscreen#being taken care of by actual Good Systems that we must trust instead of interfering or getting involved in any way :/#I swear there will be so very much to unpack about those last six months on the internet#I do find it grimly funny that all of these posts calling out its readership on “you let yourself be manipulated because of white guilt boo#are the ones. doing that. the most explicitly. but in reverse. using the concept of white guilt to shame people back into comformity.
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polarfarina · 2 years ago
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One of my favorite YouTube comments tbh
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generalsmemories · 2 years ago
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Yeah!! That's why I didn't wanted you to answer it 😭 but thank you a lot;; I just wanted to share it ^^'
Anyways! I'm fine... is just that I don't use Tumblr that much... had an entrance exam that I'm pretty much sure I didn't get to the last phase... ㅠ ㅠ
In my defense, it's one of the hardest exams of the country 😞
Let's keep ourselves strong!!!
IF IT'S ONE OF THE HARDEST EXAMS OF THE COUNTRY THEN DON'T BE SORRY IF U FAILED !! YOU'LL GET IT NEXT TIME BUT FOR NOW PAT URSELF ON THE BACK FOR ALL THE HOURS OF STUDYING U PUT INTO THAT EXAM !!
TREAT URSELF ⌛️ ANON!!
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hagscribes · 3 months ago
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Yoooo!!! My wips magic system is based around dragon remains as well!!!!! :D
@write-with-will That's very cool !!!
When considering my world I was trying to think of a very finite magic resource and how that resource scarcity would make for very high stakes and a powerful magic system, but a world that itself is low-magic. Only certain magic users have the resources or knowledge of how to use it and it is fiercely guarded. Black markets and selling of other magical creature parts have become highly popular, dragons have been hunted for their magical properties to near extinction.
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weirdly-enough · 7 months ago
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doing a deep dive into classic lit and scholarly analysis for a research paper i'm writing and it's so fun to see that the Everyone Is Stupid And Wrong About This Except Me interpretation is not in fact just a fandom thing
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porcupine-girl · 7 months ago
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Things we already know about the UHC shooter, mostly from his social media:
- He has a bachelor’s and Master’s in computer science from an Ivy League school.
- He has read several books on chronic back pain.
- His profile banner includes a photo of an x-ray for back surgery. (Spinal fusion I believe.)
- Based on messages from his family, he dropped off the map a few months ago and they’ve been worried about him.
- His political beliefs are a bit all over the map; without doing a deep-dive my take is a pretty average centrist tech bro who’s read too much evopsych.
I’m a bit worried that, as the left is so fond of doing, people will turn on him immediately for that last part. Let’s not do that! Can we agree not to do that? Because here’s the important thing:
He’s a victim of the system, just like we all are. The system pushed him past his limits, and he lashed out at it. The details of his political leanings don’t actually matter - what matters is that you don’t have to be a radical leftist to lash out at a health insurance company. That’s shows how bad things are broken, that a guy who seems fairly privileged in most respects, with no strong political motive, could be beaten down and broken to the point of doing this. He has two Ivy League computer science degrees and yet had nothing left to lose.
This is a class war that doesn’t differentiate between the working class, middle class, even upper middle class. We’re all dog food for the 1% to chew up and spit out. Even if he turned out to be hardcore right wing, in this one single issue we’re united with him.
Everyone’s been talking about how this guy has seen insane levels of support across the political spectrum - which means nobody should be shocked that he could have come from any spot on that spectrum. I’m hoping the fact that he doesn’t seem super far left or right politically will make it easier to keep that unity, but the left just looooves our purity tests. Let’s maybe not this time.
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aleksatia · 1 month ago
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Possession, Obsession, Devotion: A Study in Five Men
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Nope, I haven’t vanished. Super grateful for all your messages and the sweet support — seriously, thank you. Just swamped with work right now, so writing’s slowed down a bit. Still working on your requests, I promise! And I’m knee-deep in a pretty massive, emotionally wrecking angst based on a Songfic prompt. While that one’s cooking, I thought I’d drop another batch of my random writer notes — all bundled up in one chaotic little post.
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CW/TW: Headcanons, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Love, Jealousy, Power Imbalance, Toxic Romance, Red Flags Treated as Romance, Intimacy with Control Undertones, Emotional Manipulation (Mild), Dubious Coping Mechanisms, Intense Emotional Dependency, Suggestive Themes, Mild Sexual Content, Unhealthy Attachment Framed as Devotion Genre: Romance-Infused, Erotically-Charged Drabbles with a Generous Side of Fluff Words Count: 8.6K
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5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Caleb’s Obsessed With You
1. You call another man “handsome” — even as a joke. You were teasing. Flirting, in that harmless, breezy way of yours. Caleb laughed. Then immediately kissed you like he needed to reassert territorial dominance with tongue and body weight. Funny how your jokes always end with your back against the wall and his hand on your throat. Lovingly.
2. You go to someone else for help instead of him. You needed tech support. A charger. Help moving the couch. And instead of calling your six-foot-two, military-trained, emotionally unstable boyfriend — you asked Xavier. Caleb didn’t say anything. Just stood in the doorway, watching, calculating how long it would take to move the entire solar system to make sure you never do that again.
3. You don’t sit on his lap when there’s clearly space.You chose the chair. Next to him. Not on him. He’s not mad. No, no. He's just questioning the entire fabric of your connection and whether you’ve lost all sense of instinct. And when you finally realize and climb into his lap? He sighs like a man being restored to life.
4. You post a photo where you're not touching him.Nice shot. Great lighting. Cute outfit. But why is he two feet away and not glued to your side like a shadow with military clearance? His arm belongs around your waist. His hand belongs on your thigh. And your caption? Should’ve been his name, followed by a possessive noun.
5. You forget to wear his dog tags. He left them for you. Carefully. On your nightstand. The same tags he’s worn through hell. And you? Walked out the door wearing a cute sweater and nothing that says “belonging to Colonel Caleb.” He’ll never say a word. He’ll just strip you slow the second you get home and fasten them back around your neck himself. With teeth.
5 Lies Caleb Tells Himself About You
1. “I don’t care that she uses my toothbrush.”You could take a fresh one. You don’t. You reach for his, same as always — like that handle belongs to you more than to him. He mutters something about germs. Then watches you rinse with that smug little smile. And later, when you're asleep, he moves it back to your side of the sink. Right where you like it.
2. “She can wear whatever she wants.”And you do. His shirt. His flight jacket. That tiny black top you swear is “practical.” He acts unbothered. Says nothing. But the second someone else looks too long? He stands behind you. One hand on your waist. That casual kind of possessive that feels like a warning wrapped in warmth.
3. “I don’t need her to text me when she gets home.”You’re a grown woman. A Hunter. You’ve neutralized things with more teeth than common sense. You say “Don’t wait up.” He says “Sure.” Then checks his phone every ten minutes like it's a heartbeat monitor and he's waiting to hear yours again.
4. “It’s fine if she flirts. I know it’s harmless.”You’re charming. It’s part of who you are. You wink. Smile. Lean in a little too close. Caleb plays it cool. Says, “She’s always like that.” Then grabs your waist in front of everyone and whispers: “Try that again, and I’ll fuck you so hard next time you won’t remember anyone else’s name.”
5. “She doesn’t need to say she loves me every day.”You say it once. In passing. A low little “love you” as you walk away, like it’s nothing. But he hears it like an oath. And that night? He holds your hand a little tighter. Pulls your body a little closer. Not because he needs to hear it again. But because if he doesn’t touch you, he might forget how to breathe.
5 Things That Make Him Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. Your hair falls in his face. Leaning over him. Stretching across the couch. Just close enough that it brushes his cheek like it has rights. You don’t even notice. But he does. Every time. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Just breathes in and lets the world narrow to that one soft, smug part of you.
2. You chew on your thumb when you’re thinking. Not seductively. Not even consciously. Just a tiny bite to the edge of your nail while you’re mid-rant about your latest recon or trying to remember the name of a street vendor. It’s nothing. Stupid. Barely a gesture. And yet — he stares. Tracks it like a countdown. Fists flexing slow. Jaw tight. Because that mouth should never look that innocent.
3. You interrupt him when he’s cooking. He’s focused. Knife in hand. Half-distracted by heat and oil. And then you slide in behind him. Touch his lower back. Squeeze something you shouldn’t. Say “Smells good, chef,” with a grin that makes his whole spine forget how to hold. He curses. Tries to shoo you off. You lick something off his finger. And now dinner’s going to burn.
4. You try on his Fleet cap like it’s a joke. You lift it off the rack. Set it crooked on your head. Salute with two fingers and that smile that once made him fall off a training tower. “Colonel,” you say. And he’s gone. He should laugh. He doesn’t. He walks over, takes it off you slow, and kisses your temple like he’s reassigning you to a very different kind of mission.
5. You say “I’m yours”. Not in bed. Not in public. Just… casually. In passing. In that low voice you only use when something’s real. “I’m yours.”He looks at you like you just disarmed a bomb with your bare hands. And then he ruins you for saying it so lightly.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. You’re the only one allowed to fly with him in his military jet.Clearance denied. Protocol says no. Regulations triple-confirm it. And yet — you’re in the co-pilot seat, boots up, fingers tracing buttons you’re not supposed to touch. He doesn’t stop you. Someone once asked why you get to ride with him when no one else does. He looked up from the cockpit and said, “She’s my gravity.” End of discussion.
2. You only need to place your hand on his to calm him down.No words. No pleading. No strategic de-escalation. Just your fingers, settling lightly over his, when something in him starts to coil too tight. And just like that — his spine eases. The heat in his eyes lowers by a degree. People have seen him end arguments with three words. They’ve never seen him go silent for anyone but you.
3. You’re the only person he’ll interrupt a briefing for.He’s mid-sentence. Room full of officers. Tactical projections glowing on the wall. His phone buzzes. He glances down, sees your name — and pauses. “Give me five,” he says. And walks out without waiting for permission. Someone once asked who it was.  He said, “The only priority higher than this fleet.”  No one asked again.
4. You walk in on his arm at the Farspace Fleet annual gala.He’s in dress whites. You’re in black. And the room — full of admirals, envoys, diplomats — parts like mist when you enter. He doesn’t introduce you. He doesn’t need to. You’re not just his date. You’re the one who makes him dangerous in silence. And everyone knows it.
5. You don’t need words to communicate.One glance. A tilt of your head. A tiny shift in posture across the room. He’s already moving. Already reading you like mission data. To others, it looks like magic. Intuition. Maybe telepathy. But for you two?  It’s just muscle memory — built from years of almosts, nevers, and finallys.
5 Times Caleb Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He pulled the full personnel file on a man you once smiled at.You were being polite. Friendly. The guy asked something harmless, you laughed. By morning, Caleb had his record open on a secure datapad, scrolling like he wasn’t reading a life — just calculating the risk factor. You asked what he was doing. He said, “I like knowing who wants what’s mine.” And then kissed you like he hoped you never asked him to stop.
2. He showed up at your door at 02:03 AM. Soaking wet. Furious. Silent.You missed one message. One. He waited. Thirty minutes. An hour. And then something in him snapped. No threats. No drama. Just the sound of his knock like a warning shot. You opened the door. He didn’t speak. Just stared. And then pulled you in with a grip like survival wasn’t optional anymore.
3. He scared the hell out of a junior pilot for asking your name.The kid was fresh. Eager. Smiled a little too long. Said, “Hey, what should I call you?” You started to answer. Then turned — and saw Caleb across the room. Expression calm. Stance neutral. Eyes loaded. The pilot apologized before you even said a word.
4. He slammed his hand on the table when you joked about breaking up.Just a joke. A throwaway line. Something stupid like “Guess I’ll go find someone less intense.” And his hand hit the surface before the words fully left your mouth. Not loud. Not violent. Just final. He didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. Just looked at you like you’d put a knife in his ribs and smiled about it. You never made that joke again.
5. He called you “dangerous” — and meant it like a vow.It was late. You were arguing. You said something sharp. He caught your wrist and said it low, almost reverent: “You’re dangerous.” But not like an accusation. Like awe. Like worship. Like he’d already decided to stay, even if you wrecked him completely. Even if he’d have to protect the world from you. Or protect you from himself.
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5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Zayne’s Obsessed With You
1. Someone else bandaged your scratch. Just a graze. A stupid piece of shrapnel across your forearm. A colleague wrapped it up. No big deal. You came home smiling. Told him it barely hurt. He nodded. Quiet. Then excused himself to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he returned with antiseptic, clean gauze, and the words: “Take it off. I’m doing it properly.”  You didn’t argue. Neither did he. 2. Someone at work lent you their umbrella. A man. It was raining. You forgot yours. He offered. You accepted.  Zayne didn’t say a thing when you mentioned it over dinner. Just hummed. Neutral. The next morning, you found a new umbrella in your bag. Carbon fiber. Windproof. Labeled discreetly with your initials. You didn’t ask how he knew the exact weight your bag could carry without straining your shoulder. 3. You asked the waiter to recommend a wine. It was harmless. Polite. You were curious. But Zayne was sitting right there. He didn’t blink. Just looked at the waiter, then at you. Then took the list back. “Actually,” he said, calm as glass, “she prefers reds with less acidity. I’ll order.” You nodded. The waiter nodded. And somewhere between the clink of glasses, you realized that wasn't about wine at all. 4. You didn’t invite him to your morning training. He’d had a night shift. Surgery ran late. You wanted him to rest. So you left quietly. He woke up to an empty bed, your gym bag missing, and a silence that felt like a closed door. You came back to find his routine disrupted, his pulse still too fast — and a protein shake mixed just how you like it, chilled and waiting on the table. He never mentioned it. But now, if you decide to “let him rest” again… your training starts later. And doesn’t involve clothes. 5. You called another man “smart.” It was a game show. Trivia night. Some stranger on-screen made a clever move. You smiled. “Wow. That was actually really smart.” Zayne didn’t look up from his tablet. Didn’t even shift. But ten minutes later, you found yourself in a very precise debate about probability, strategy, and why that move wasn’t that brilliant after all. You didn’t argue. You just leaned closer. He didn’t smirk, but you felt it anyway.
5 Lies Zayne Tells Himself About You
1. "I’m just your cardiologist during exams." It’s clinical. Professional. Necessary. He listens to your heartbeat, takes your vitals, asks you to breathe deeper — deeper. You unbutton your shirt. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look. Doesn’t feel anything. Except for the part where he adjusts his gloves a little too tightly. And maybe takes one extra second to remove the stethoscope from your skin. 2. "Lunch tastes the same without you." He orders the same thing. Same café. Same tea. But the pastry tastes off. The space feels louder. The table — emptier. He tells himself it’s fine. Then brings the leftovers back to his office. Doesn’t touch them. Just leaves the box where your hand might find it later. 3. "I don’t need to pick you up." It’s logical. You’re a professional. Your job runs over sometimes. So does his. But your message was short. The streetlights are on. The buses are unreliable.  He checks traffic cams. Weather. Public transit delays. Then sits very still, staring at his phone, wondering how to offer you a ride without making it sound like panic. 4. "I’m not checking. I’m sleeping." You once left while he was asleep. You thought it was kinder. Quieter. Now he says he “needed water” or “had a dream.” But every night, at 3 AM, his hand reaches. Just to feel your back. Your wrist. The smallest proof that you haven’t disappeared again. 5. "Short skirts are inefficient." He says they’re impractical. Not suited for cold weather. Definitely not for terrain with hostile wanderer activity. You raise a brow. He adds, “You’re not seventeen. Dress like it.” But the second no one’s watching, his hand is already sliding up your thigh under the table. And when you raise a brow at him, he just says, flat: “Checking for circulation.” You’re not fooled. He’s already failed the mission.
5 Things That Make Zayne Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. You straighten his tie. You’re not thinking about it. Just reaching out, adjusting the knot, smoothing the line down his chest like it’s second nature. He stays still. Breath held. Eyes on your face. You step back. He doesn’t. Because now all he can think about is using that same tie to bind your wrists to the chair in his office — and how many minutes he can steal between appointments without compromising your breathing. 2. You dip your finger into the frosting of his pastry. You don’t ask. Just lean in, collect a bit of cream with your fingertip — and taste it. Oblivious. Innocent. Distracted by something else. He watches. Silently. And now the fork in his hand feels criminally unnecessary, because his mouth is dry, his mind’s gone blank, and he’s halfway to pulling you into his lap just to return the favor — with interest. 3. You take off your bra without removing your shirt. It’s casual. Automatic. You’re talking about your day, laughing, and then — One arm out. Then the other. The strap slides through the sleeve and vanishes into your laundry bag like it never existed. His brain glitches. His hands twitch. And he will absolutely spend the rest of the evening pretending to listen while picturing every technical step of reversing that maneuver with his teeth. 4. You imitate him. Badly. You’re wearing his lab coat. His glasses. Sitting at his desk, brows drawn, lips pressed tight. Your impression is awful. He should be annoyed. But instead — he watches. Sharp. Quiet. And when you finally laugh and start to take it off, he gets up. Takes the coat from your shoulders himself. And tells you, too evenly, “You forgot the gloves.” 5. You trace lazy shapes on his wrist while talking about something unrelated. You’re saying something about your neighbor’s cat. Something trivial. But your fingers are moving in a slow, absent pattern across his skin. And Zayne — who has operated on live hearts under pressure, who has held lives in one hand and death in the other — is currently struggling not to grab your wrist and drag you onto the desk. Because apparently, nothing in this galaxy has the precision impact of your fingertip.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. You have a keycard to his office.Not a guest pass. Not a shared access code. A permanent, personalized, high-level card to a room most staff can’t even knock on without permission. You walked in one day mid-shift, casual, spinning the card between your fingers like it was a hairpin. Three nurses saw. One dropped her tablet. Rumors started before you even closed the door. Zayne didn’t correct them.
2. When he received a prestigious award, the first person he thanked was you.Best cardiothoracic surgeon of the year. Cameras flashing. Applause rising. Everyone expected a speech about innovation and responsibility. Instead, he said: “I’d like to thank the one person who keeps me alive enough to do this work. My partner. My favorite interruption.”Then he looked straight at you. The auditorium melted.
3. You’re both dressed like weapons. And everyone notices.He wears tailored coats, precision-cut collars, charcoal palettes like a tactical signature.You? Heels like blades. A suit that redefines “combat-ready.” And when you walk together — sharp, silent, side by side — people stop talking. Someone once tried to photograph you. The headline read: Unknown dignitaries arrive. Security does not comment.
4. You don’t argue. You duet.Someone crossed a line. Loud, drunk, smug. Zayne responded first — clean, cold, just one sentence long. The man blinked. Started to retort. You finished it for him. Elegant, sharp, no profanity required. He left. Fast. And you turned back to Zayne like nothing happened — while everyone else tried to recover from what could only be described as a linguistic orgasm.
5. He opens doors, buttons coats, and moves chairs like it’s instinct.Not performative. Not flashy. Just… precise. He adjusts your sleeve without thinking. Helps you into the car like it’s always been his hand. You barely register it. But the woman across the street? The one who saw it all from behind her coffee cup? She’s still texting her group chat about “the man in the long coat and the woman who ruined my standards.”
5 Times Zayne Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He gets live data from your heart monitor.Your Hunter’s Watch sends updates to the cloud. Zayne rerouted the feed to his private tablet. “Just in case,” he said. Now he knows when your pulse spikes. When you’re injured. When you don’t sleep. You never gave him access. You never had to. The first time he called mid-mission to say “slow your breathing” — you realized he wasn’t tracking. He was watching over.
2. He absolutely hates when you drive. Always.You're capable. Fast. Efficient. And yet — every time you take the wheel, something in him shuts down. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t protest. Just goes silent. And stares at the road like it personally offended him. He says, “It’s fine.” But he holds the dashboard too tightly for that to be true.
3. He freezes every time you say “I can handle it.”You mean well. You’re strong. You are capable. But when you brush him off with a casual “I’ve got this,” he doesn’t nod. Doesn’t smile. He just stops. Eyes unreadable. Hands still. And when you come back later — even fine — there’s already a backup plan on your datapad. Three versions. In color.
4. He never replies to emotional messages right away.You send: “I miss you. A lot.” His read receipt appears. Then… nothing. For two hours. And just when you start to spiral — he sends a photo. Of your favorite pastry. Waiting on his table. With one word: “Soon.” You hate how well it works. 
5. He spoke to the man flirting with you like he was reviewing his autopsy.It was harmless. A drink. A joke. A compliment. You laughed. Zayne didn’t. He stepped in, shook the man’s hand, and said: "Tell me, has anyone ever checked your prefrontal lobe for impulse control irregularities?"The man left. Quickly. You rolled your eyes. Zayne didn’t apologize. He just took your hand. And changed the subject. Completely calm. Fully satisfied.
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5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Rafayel’s Obsessed With You
1. Someone comments “🔥” under your photo — and you like it.He sees it. Of course he does. He sees everything. You think it’s harmless. He thinks it’s appalling that someone dared mark your beauty with an emoji better suited to grilled meat. He says nothing. But that night, you get a charcoal sketch of yourself in your favorite pose, signed with a tiny flame in the corner. When you ask about it, he hums. “Oh, just honoring your admirers’ creative input.”
2. You linger too long in front of another artist’s painting.Not just glance. Linger. Eyes soft. Head tilted. That thoughtful little breath you take when something moves you. He stands beside you, perfectly still. Smiling. Then leans in and whispers, “Cutie, if you start weeping, I may need to challenge the gallery owner to a duel.” You're not sure if he’s joking. You’re also not sure you want him to be.
3. You talk about a beautiful place you visited… without him.You’re glowing. Describing the light, the air, the view. He listens, nods, even asks questions. Then: “And did the sun taste the same without me there?” You pause. He smiles, all charm and cheekbones. “I’m just wondering how it dared rise, knowing we weren’t together.”
4. You send him a photo — and there’s someone else’s hand in the frame.You didn’t notice it. He did. He stares at the image like it’s a crime scene. Zooms in. Later, he replies: “Beautiful composition. Fascinating use of background tension. Would love to discuss the symbolism of that wrist — whose is it?” You laugh. He doesn’t.
5. You say some actor is “exactly your type.”He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just goes very still, then casually asks, “Before or after makeup?” Later, you find your datapad background changed. It’s him. In perfect lighting. Shirt unbuttoned just so. The caption reads: “Still unsure who your type is? Look into my eyes. You’ll remember.”
5 Lies Rafayel Tells Himself About You
1. “I didn’t paint you. It’s just resemblance.”He insists it’s a study of emotion. A symbol. A face from memory. But the tilt of the head, the mouth, the birthmark near the collarbone — they’re all yours. You ask, teasing: “Is that me?” He blinks. Smiles slowly. “Cutie,” he says, “I wouldn’t paint you without permission.” And then changes the subject. Very deliberately.
2. “I don't reread your old messages.”He’s far too elegant for that. Far too composed. Except on quiet nights. On long flights. In museums where the silence scratches at his skin. Then he opens the archive. Just for the rhythm of your words. The accidental poetry. The way you once wrote “come home soon” like it meant more than time and place. He says it’s for “emotional reference.” He lies beautifully.
3. “I don't watch your mouth when you talk.”He’s an artist. A visual thinker. Of course he looks at faces. But not like that. Not at yours. Not like he’s memorizing the shape of every syllable just to feel them later against his throat. Not like he’s fantasizing mid-conversation about shutting you up with his tongue and tasting the sentence off your lips. No. Never. He’s listening.
4. “I haven’t memorized your scent through every season.”He claims not to notice. But he knows the spring version of you — soft rain, citrus skin, the aftershock of lilac. He knows the winter version — leather gloves, cinnamon breath, quiet wool. He doesn’t name them. Doesn’t chase the memory. But when you walk past — his eyes close. Briefly. Automatically. Like he’s gathering air before going under.
5. “I don't imagine your name with mine.”He’s not that romantic. Puh-lease. Marriage is a construct, surnames are politics, and love is beyond paperwork. He says all that with a flourish. And yet — there’s a notebook. Tucked under his mattress. Full of signatures. Yours. His. Just to see how it would look. Just in case.
5 Things That Make Rafayel Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. When you eat something juicy. Fruit. Fingers. With zero awareness.You bite into it slowly, distracted. Something sweet. Ripe. Juice glides over your lower lip, and your tongue follows without thinking. He watches, motionless. Not breathing. Not blinking. You glance at him. He tilts his head. Smiles. Says lightly: "That peach is about to become my personal enemy." You laugh. He doesn’t. He’s too busy wondering how it’s possible to be jealous of the fruit.
2. When you kiss his hand instead of his mouth. He leans in, expecting lips. Contact. Heat. And instead — you take his hand. Press a kiss into his palm. Soft. Deliberate. His breath catches. His throat tightens. Because that wasn’t affection. That was submission. And now he’s wondering just how far you’d let him take it. 3. When you tease him with your voice. Not the words. The tone. The whisper. You say his name like silk sliding over glass. You ask “You think so?” like it means “prove it.” You laugh — not loudly, but just enough to make his chest hurt. He could diagram it, break it into sound waves, prove the seduction in math. But instead, he just steps closer. And says, low: "Say that again. Slower." 4. When you sit on the floor, barefoot, flipping through his sketches — looking like you belong there. You’re humming something. Knees tucked up. No shoes. No guard. You tilt your head, study a piece, murmur: “I like this one.” He doesn’t even remember drawing it. He just remembers the way your hair spills over your shoulder and how the studio feels suddenly too small for how much he wants you. He doesn’t touch you. Not yet. He just watches like a starving thing. Memorizing the moment in case he dies of it later. 5. When you say “more.” In any context. “More sugar.” “More time.” “More.” That’s all it takes. One syllable. One open door. You never mean it the way he hears it — but he takes it as a promise. Like permission. Like a match tossed onto something already too dry to survive. And the next time he touches you? He makes damn sure you say it again.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. He painted a self-portrait — with you reflected in his pupils. Not your full form. Not a shared composition. Just his face. Direct gaze. And in both eyes: you. Looking at him. Always. When the painting debuted in the gallery’s main hall, critics called it “a study in obsession.” He called it accurate. 2. In an interview, he said you’re the only one who gets his sketches. The host asked who his work goes to first — gallery, agent, press. He smiled lazily and answered, “Her.” The room stilled. “The raw ones. The incomplete. The brutal drafts no one else deserves to see.” He didn’t say your name. He didn’t have to. The moment he said it, you were already trending. 3. He delayed his own exhibition opening because you weren’t there yet. The venue was full. Lights ready. Guests murmuring. But he stood at the entrance, fingers laced behind his back, perfectly calm. “She’s on the way,” he said. “She had a prior engagement.” No one questioned him. Later, when you finally arrived — graceful, composed, in a deep sapphire gown that matched the evening — only he noticed the tiny scratch on your knuckle. The faintest shadow of something darker, just beneath the perfume. You smiled. He took your hand. And the doors opened like they’d been waiting for you all along. 4. Someone flirted with him. He looked at you. Then said: “I’m already spoken for. Permanently.” It was charming. Playful. Someone touched his wrist, laughed softly, leaned a little too close. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t react. Just turned his head toward you. Found your eyes. Then said it — quietly, cleanly, like a closing signature on a finished masterpiece. 5. At a charity auction, he sold a painting titled: “Painted Between Her Breathing and Mine.” The crowd didn’t know what to do with that. Some laughed nervously. Some applauded. The bidding started high and ended astronomical. But as the winning guest walked past you, holding the canvas with reverent hands — he still glanced back. At you. As if to say: That canvas holds the image. But I keep the original.
5 Times Rafayel Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He can disappear for three days and return with, “I just needed to stop being jealous.” No warning. No calls. Just silence, like he fell off the planet. You panic. Rage. Rehearse five speeches. And then he walks in — composed, scented like night air and oil paint. “Sorry,” he says softly. “I was being irrational. Had to… recalibrate.” You want to scream. Instead, you breathe him in like he’s home. 2. He destroyed the career of a critic who called your photo “poorly lit.” It wasn’t even a real insult. Just a throwaway line in a blog. But Raf read it. Once. And within a week, that critic was blacklisted from three galleries, publicly corrected by five curators, and accidentally misquoted in a viral controversy. You found out much later. He just looked at you and said, “No one calls shadow a flaw when it falls across you.” 3. He faked an illness so you wouldn’t leave for a mission. Nothing dramatic. Just a cough. A warm forehead. You hesitated. Postponed. Stayed. The next morning, he was radiant. Healthy. Annoyingly smug. You narrowed your eyes. He only shrugged, kissed your wrist, and whispered, “I needed one more night. Forgive the performance.” You did. Of course you did. The guilt felt almost like foreplay. 4. He left your clothes wet in the wash so you’d wear his shirt instead. Accident, he claimed. Timing. Cycles. But somehow, your entire outfit was still in the machine — cold, damp, and useless — while his favorite linen shirt lay folded neatly on the bed. You put it on. He watched you button it. And smiled like he'd won a silent war no one else even knew was happening. 5. He reads your messages without asking. Calmly. You know it. He knows you know. He doesn’t deny it. Just traces your jaw one evening and says, “You don’t hide anything from me. That’s why it doesn’t count as intrusion.” And the worst part? He’s right. You stopped hiding a long time ago.
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5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Xavier’s Obsessed With You
1. You nap on the wrong side of the bed.You nap on the wrong side of the bed. Not wrong, exactly. Just… not his. You’re curled up in the late-afternoon light, peaceful, quiet, unaware. He doesn’t wake you. Doesn’t move you. But when you stir, there’s a weight in the silence. His side of the bed is untouched. Pillow perfectly aligned. No warmth. No scent. And your blanket — tucked just a little tighter — like a quiet reminder that even when you’re here, something’s missing. Something he’s not sure how to ask for without sounding ridiculous. Like: your perfume. On his pillow. Where it should be.
2. You tell him about a dream. Someone else was in it.You describe it absently. A mission. A flash of danger. And a man — not him — at your side. He listens. Nods. Doesn’t blink. But that night, when he kisses you, his hand stays on the back of your neck longer than usual. And his mouth says I want you, but his grip says: you don’t forget me, even in sleep.
3. You keep something old, worn, unnamed.A keychain. A patch. A folded slip of paper. Nothing dramatic. But it’s always near. He asks, once: “What is that?” You smile. “Just something from a long time ago.” He nods. Never brings it up again. But two days later, he leaves something else beside it. Not to replace. Just to match the weight.
4. You let the barista choose your drink instead of him.You smiled. Said “sure, why not.” Took the new coffee without hesitation. He was beside you. Holding your usual. You didn’t notice. But when you left the café, his own drink sat untouched. And he walked a little faster. A little quieter. As if recalibrating the fact that maybe someone else knows your taste. Even if it’s just in coffee.
5. You close your laptop too fast when he walks in.“Just a movie,” you say. Too quickly. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t tilt his head. Just nods and sets his gloves on the table like he didn’t notice the flicker in your tone. Later, while checking your tabs, he sees the paused frame — teeth on skin, hands holding wrists, someone begging. Silently. His breath doesn’t change. His expression stays neutral. But when he finds you, hours later, he doesn’t speak. Just pins your arms above your head and kisses you until you can’t remember what the scene looked like — only what it felt like when it became real.
5 Lies Xavier Tells Himself About You
1. “I’m not jealous of whoever taught you how to fight like that.”He knows it doesn’t matter. It’s skill. It’s history. Efficiency passed from one warrior to another. He tells himself it’s irrelevant. But when he watches you move — precise, lethal, beautiful — something coils in his chest. Not because of the technique. But because someone else saw you become this version of yourself. And he didn’t.
2. “It’s logical to sleep apart sometimes.” You need rest. Space. Post-mission decompression. He understands. It’s healthy. Statistically sound. But the first night you say “I’ll sleep in my own apartment,” the bed feels wrong. His internal balance off by degrees he can’t quantify. He tells himself it’s fine. Then stares at the ceiling for hours, heart syncing to a rhythm that isn’t there.
3. “It doesn’t bother me when you keep things to yourself.” You’re independent. He respects that. Boundaries are natural. But you say “I’m fine” with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, and he catalogs ten micro-expressions that say otherwise. Still, he nods. Doesn’t push. Then replays your words in his head for the next three days, trying to solve you like a puzzle that refuses to open.
4. "I could walk away, if it ever came to that." He tells himself he’s rational. Detached. If you chose something else — someone else — he would adapt. But deep down, he knows: he’s already memorized your weight in his arms, the way your name fits inside his silence. If it ever came to leaving… he wouldn’t walk. He’d stay exactly where you left him. Quiet. Waiting. Ruined.
5. "You wouldn’t lie to protect me. Would you?" You say “it was nothing,” “I’m just tired,” “I handled it.” And he accepts it. On the surface. But his mind starts building alternate versions. Safer ones. Worse ones. Ones where you bled and said nothing. He tells himself you’d never hide real danger. But he still checks your vitals in the logs. Every time.
5 Things That Make Xavier Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. You walk in wearing a bright yellow duck kigurumi.  Absurd. Fuzzy. Zipped up wrong. You yawn, mumble something about tea, and pad across the room like comfort incarnate. He looks up. Blinks once. And forgets what he was doing. The beak hood. The bare ankles. The way you scratch your neck, half-asleep. None of it should be seductive. But now he can’t look away. His gaze tracks you like threat assessment — only it's not danger he’s calculating. It’s proximity. Access. How long he can pretend he's unaffected… before you end up against the wall. Still wearing the duck. For now.
2. You adjust the chest plate of his armor.  No rush. Just fingertips over matte metal, sliding a buckle, pressing a clasp. Your hands linger longer than they need to. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. But he does. He’s counting your seconds, your pressure, the exact placement of your thumb. If anyone asks why his next shot missed the center by half an inch, it’s because you touched him like a secret no one else was allowed to see. 3. You peel off your combat gloves with your teeth.  It’s efficient. Quick. Practical. But the way your mouth closes around the strap and your fingers flex once, twice, before they’re bare — He’s staring before he knows he is. Processing nothing but the curve of your jaw and the memory of that same mouth around his length. The second glove doesn’t stand a chance. Neither does he, honestly. 4. You wear a thin black choker.  No explanation. No warning. It’s not part of your gear. Has no field utility. But it’s there, snug against your throat like a promise no one else knows about. He sees it once and looks away. Sees it again and swallows too hard. The third time, he doesn’t look at all — he just shifts in his seat like everything in his world needs immediate recalibration. 5. You say “later” when he leans in.  Just a little. Enough to feel the pull. And you smile, soft, apologetic, not teasing — just... not now. He nods, like he understands. He always does. But from that second forward, every calculation, every breath, every cell in his body becomes attuned to the moment you say now. And when you finally do — he doesn’t wait. He doesn’t ask. He just takes, like patience was never part of the equation to begin with.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. You moved in perfect sync — without saying a single word. In the training hall, you didn’t say a word — but moved like a mirrored code. You shifted, he adjusted. You reached, he passed. No signals, no commands. Just two bodies in absolute sync. Someone watching whispered, “Do they rehearse this?” Someone else muttered, “No. That’s just them.” And suddenly, no one wanted to spar with either of you. 2. Someone called him “too quiet.” You didn’t let it slide. It was a throwaway comment —“He’s so silent, it’s weird.” You didn’t even look up from your drink. “Then you’ve never heard him breathe next to you.” The room went still. Xavier didn’t react. But you felt it — how he went still too, the way his attention locked fully on you. As if your words changed the temperature. 3. He braided your hair for three weeks while your wrist healed. At your desk. Between reports. No comments. No hesitation. Just practiced hands and quiet efficiency, like it belonged in the schedule. And maybe it wasn’t romantic. Or loud. But after that, no one ever looked at you the same way — because somehow, without trying, the two of you had redefined what closeness looked like. 4. You didn’t ask for his jacket. You didn’t have to. A shift in the wind. Goosebumps on your arms. No complaint, no drama. He just stepped behind you, slid his cardigan onto your shoulders like it belonged there, and said nothing. The couple walking by paused. Stared. You didn’t. You were already reaching for his hand. 5. There’s a photo of you on his desk.  Just you, caught mid-laugh, in natural light. Among tactical reports and encrypted drives. He never explains it. Never acknowledges it. But everyone who enters that room sees it. And no one ever asks if he's serious about you. They already know.
5 Times Xavier Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He monitors your meals like it’s a clinical trial. “You didn’t eat enough protein today.” “That pastry had no nutritional value.” “Are you hydrating?” He says it softly. Calmly. Like a doctor. Like someone who cares. And yet — you’ve seen him survive three days on black coffee and whatever snack bar was closest to his hand. You mention this once. He pauses. Then says, “That’s different. I’m used to operating under stress. You’re not.” End of discussion.
2. He didn’t argue. He made the argument disappear. You disagreed about something small. Nothing dramatic. Just opposing views. He didn’t push back. Just nodded, quiet. Said, “If that’s what you think.” Later, you realized the entire issue — schedule, person, condition — was gone. Resolved. Removed. Replaced. No apology. No discussion. Just silence... and a solution that left you with nothing to win.
3. He never asked where you’d been.Not once. Not even after you were late. Not even when your message came hours too late. He didn’t accuse. Didn’t guess. He already knew. Tracked your path, logged your signal drift, checked your pulse history. All without a word. And still held the door open when you arrived.
4. He always calls via video when you’re in another city.He never misses a day. Never just texts. Always video. He says he likes seeing your face. That it “grounds him.” And maybe that’s true. Maybe. But every time the screen lights up, you notice how carefully his eyes scan the room behind you. How his voice sounds different if there’s movement. How he never quite hangs up until you say, “I’m alone. It’s quiet here.” Only then does he relax. A little. Maybe.
5. You told him, “Sometimes, you scare me.” He said, “Good.”It slipped out. Low. Uncertain. Not a joke, not an accusation — just the truth. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t soften. Just met your eyes and said, calm as ever, “Good. Then you’ll stay alert.” And for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was warning you… or protecting you from something only he could see coming.
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5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Sylus’s Obsessed With You
1. You didn’t tag him. He made sure the world knew anyway.You posted a photo. Cute. Stylish. Perfect lighting. But no mention of him. No tag. No trace. He reposted it within minutes. Same photo. New caption: “Correction: mine.” It got five times the reach. And suddenly, everyone knew better.
2. Someone else made you laugh. Sylus didn’t.The waiter was charming. A little too witty. You laughed — loud, unfiltered. Sylus just raised a brow, pulled out his wallet, and handed the man $2000. “For your last night in customer service,” he said. He smiled. You choked on your wine. The waiter never came back.
3. You called some man a friend. Sylus ran a background check.“He’s just a friend,” you said. Lightly. Barely thinking. Sylus smiled. Tilted his head. “I’m just a man with access to his tax history.”And that was the end of that conversation.
4. You said another man had a nice voice. Sylus gave you no air.It was innocent. Harmless. “His voice is kind of nice.”  Sylus said nothing. Just waited. That night, he read you poetry in three languages, one line at a time — mouth against your neck, breasts, stomach, thighs — until you begged him to stop. Not because you wanted him to. Because you physically couldn’t take more.
5. You forgot to wear his ring. He didn’t forget anything.It wasn’t intentional. You were rushing. Distracted. But he noticed. Of course he did. He said nothing all day. Then, that night — when you were breathless, undone, on your knees — he took your hand, kissed your finger, and slid the ring back into place. Slowly. Deliberately. Like sealing a deal you forgot you signed.
5 Lies Sylus Tells Himself About You
1. “I didn’t pick your outfit to match mine. Must’ve been the stylist.”It was just coincidence. That your lipstick matched his cufflinks. That your dress followed the same line as his collarbones. That when you walked in together, people paused — like royalty had arrived. He didn’t say a word. Just looked at you once. And didn’t look away for the rest of the night.
2. “I’m not furious that I wasn’t your first.”He says it doesn’t matter. Shrugs. “I’m not a teenager.” And yet, the thought of someone else touching you before him? It coils in his chest like smoke that won’t clear. He tells himself you chose him now — and that’s what counts. But the next time you moan his name, he fucks you hard enough to make sure no one else’s ever mattered.
3. “I don’t answer your messages instantly. I’m just always holding the phone.”He just… saw it. Right away. Just happened to be holding his phone. Just happened to pause mid-meeting, mid-deal, mid-war — to write: “Be safe.” You tease him for how fast he replies. He teases back. And never mentions the part where your name makes him drop everything.
4. “I’m not obsessed with the way you say my name when you’re annoyed.”You do it without thinking. That exact tone. That breath. That syllable dipped in heat. He rolls his eyes. Says, “What now, kitten?” But every time it happens — he shifts closer. Hears it again later in his head. And stores it next to the version you whisper when you want him most.
5. “I wouldn’t beg. If it came to that. …But only for you. And only once.”He’s not that man. He doesn’t plead. Doesn’t bend. But when he thinks of you leaving — really leaving — something dark and fragile coils behind his ribs. He tells himself he’d let you go. That he wouldn’t chase. But even in the lie… he’s already halfway down the hallway.
5 Things That Make Sylus Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. You ask him to zip your dress. Then don’t wear anything underneath. It’s casual. Innocent. “Help me?” You turn your back, lift your hair, and wait. He moves slow — almost reverent. But when his fingers meet bare skin where silk should be… he doesn’t finish the zip. He turns you around, steps in close, and says, “You came dressed for trouble. Good. So did I.” 2. You say “don’t be gentle” with a smile that promises you’ll say it again, louder. He always controls the pace. The heat. The rhythm. But when you lean in, lips brushing his ear, and whisper those words — something in him fractures. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He doesn’t give you time to change your mind. He just obeys. And makes sure you feel the echo for days. 3. You use his tie to pull him into a kiss. He likes power. Centered, composed. Collar straight, voice cool. But when you grab that perfect silk tie, wrap it around your fingers, and yank — he stumbles into you like a man starved. You kiss him once. He kisses you back like vengeance. 4. You say “yes, sir” in a tone that means the opposite. You drawl it. Sweet. Defiant. Like you know exactly what it does to him. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t smile. Just leans in, voice low against your throat, and says, “Keep using that tone, kitten. Let’s see how long you last when I take it seriously.” You don’t last long. Not that night. 5. You put on his ring and ask, “So what does this buy me?” It’s a joke. Almost. You twirl it on your finger, playful, reckless. He watches. Then smiles slow, wicked. “That?” he says, stepping closer. “That buys you a night where I don’t stop until you forget your own name.” And just like that, you do.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. The earring incident at the casino. You dropped it. Somewhere between the blackjack table and the bar. Nothing dramatic — until your face shifted. That quiet flicker of loss. Sylus didn’t sigh. Didn’t scold. Just raised a brow. And a dozen seasoned criminals began crawling across the velvet floor. They found it in twenty minutes. You wore it for the rest of the night. He wore the look of a man who’d moved the world back into place. 2. The arrivals are always his favorite part. You come back from missions — tired, sore, alive. And there it is: his sportscar. Engine humming. He’s waiting with a bouquet of roses so rare you don’t recognize half the species. The entire terminal watches. You don’t. You’re too busy smiling. He says, “Welcome home.” And just like that, the war disappears from your shoulders. 3. The seat at the head of the table. It was a high-stakes meeting. Old money. Dangerous names. Sylus led you in by the hand — then pulled out his chair. You blinked. He said nothing. And while you sat at the head, calm and poised, he stood behind you like a king who knows exactly where real power sits. No one even dared raise a brow. 4. The auction. Your hand. His silence. He gave you the paddle. Not instructions. You bid on instinct — numbers rising, tension thick. The item? A rare protocore with blackout-level clearance. Sylus didn’t flinch. Not once. And when the gavel dropped — he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, and said, “You can spend my money however you want, kitten. Just make sure they see you doing it.” 5. The moment the room lost him to you. It was mid-negotiation. Tense. Crucial. Every word counted. But across the table, your fingers tapped. Your eyes glazed. You were bored. Sylus watched. Then stood. “Deal’s done,” he said. “You’ll take our terms.” And somehow, they did. Because the only person in the room whose attention he wanted — was already drifting.
5 Times Sylus Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He knows what’s in your delivery before you do. No one told him. But every time you order something — clothes, tech, vitamins — it’s re-screened. Not stopped. Not blocked. Just… “verified.” You only noticed when your favorite moisturizer showed up improved. New formula. Better scent. Hand-selected. Of course. 2. He said he’d put you on IV if you skip another meal. You were busy. Distracted. He asked what you’d eaten. You said, “Does coffee count?” He laughed. Once. And muttered something about installing a medical station in your apartment. He was “joking.” Until you saw the discreet courier bring an IV stand the next day. Just in case. 3. He took you to dinner at a place you hadn’t been since Academy. You didn’t realize where you were — until you saw your ex across the room. The one who cheated. Sylus just smiled. You were in a dress that made people stop breathing. He ordered champagne. Lobster. Left a four-digit tip. And made sure your ex saw everything. Including the way you kissed Sylus on the way out. 4. He froze your accounts. Just to prove a point. You said you didn’t need his money. You insisted on “independence.” So he waited until your card declined at the pharmacy. Then texted: “You have my black card. Use it. Or stay home.” You gave in. He sent flowers. 5. He apologized like a storm front. You fought. It was ugly. The next day, a gift arrived at HQ. Then another. Then six more. By day four, your car was full. You marched to his door, furious. He opened it, leaned against the frame, and said, “Took you long enough. Come yell at me. I’ll pour the wine.”
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insanitize · 2 months ago
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results of tumblr vs 4chan war
thousands of SJWs lost in Tumblrs army due to conflicts within the ranks about fanfiction censorship
thousands of Neo-Nazis lost in 4chans army due to being arrested in "real life", a higher plane that few can access and is rumored to maybe not be real
underground advanced trade system established to covertly deliver memes between parties with minimal contact, which facilitates the transfer of language. tumblr notably begins to publish content written in "Greentext", a dialect originating from 4chan
Tumblr splinters into hundreds upon hundreds of sub-factions, though the two most powerful are the Darkly Chics and the Bluey Adults. the factions are largely in opposition to eachother, but none of them agree to leave Tumblr
4chan splinters a more violent and intense clique, whom after many heated conflicts with 4chan's main userbase are run out of 4chan and seemingly disappear into the cold mist for years
the 4chan splinter clique becomes its own nation while nobody is looking, choosing to be called the Soyjacks (based on a popular style of abstractionist art that originated in 4chan but quickly spread elsewhere)
earlier in the war, Tumblr's governing body, known as "Staff" (possibly originating from the name for a type of halting rod used by level 25 and above wizards), issued a ban on all pornography, leading to many notable artists fleeing to a neighboring site known originally as Twitter. later in the war, Twitter would enter the infamous X Period, and users from Tumblr either rejoined or moved to the newly formed Bluesky
several large scale rifts between Tumblr Staff and the common people occur, causing widespread fear and doubt about the longevity of Tumblr. talks about Bluesky and its success begin circulating, though most remain skeptical
out of basically nowhere, the Soyjacks launch an attack on 4chan's entire main perimeter of operation, which turns out to have actually been very poorly guarded, and reinstate the board they were thrown out of before taking down 4chan. those who were able to escape in time reported the last words they heard being "CHICKEN JOCKEYYYY". this is said to have been a message from God
the Soyjacks, after bringing 4chan to its knees, reveal that spies have been collecting information from within 4chan in the time since their banishment, and several private logins of members of 4chans governing force (known as the "Janitors") are leaked, effectively spelling the end of the site as it once existed
result: tumblr wins by doing nothing
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beloveds-embrace · 4 months ago
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(a very low-effort post abt 141 x their new hacker- you. For better immersion, click on the song link during Soap’s workout! <3)
The first time you make contact, it’s through their personal phones.
Not the official military-issued devices- no, those would be too easy. You wanted to make an impression.
So when Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap each glance at their personal screens, expecting the usual notifications from Laswell, they’re instead greeted by:
(¬‿¬) Hello, boys.
Price sighs like a disappointed father, having been forwarned of your antics, and still immediately calls Laswell.
“Care to explain why my phone just got hijacked?”
Laswell doesn’t sound surprised. If anything, she sounds like she’s been expecting and waiting for this- for his phone call specifically about getting hacked. “That’s your new hacker.”
Price pinches the bridge of his nose, while the others exchange Looks of Consideration™️. “That’s how she introduces herself?”
“She’s efficient.”
“She’s cheeky.”
“She’s listening,” you interject, making them all jolt as your voice plays from the phone speakers, honey-sweet and undeniably smug.
There’s a long silence. Then Gaz whispers: “What the fuck?”
You giggle. (≧◡≦) flashes onto all their screens right after that, just as cheeky as your tone.
“So she’s just gonna creep around in our phones now?” Gaz asks after that, wary, an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed.
In response, just his screen flickers, and a new message appears.
(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ Rude.
Laswell sighs again, much like an exasperated mother, and gestures at their phones. “Give her a chance. She is, despite everything, good at what she does.”
And so from that that moment on, you’re everywhere; they don’t see you, but they feel your presence. You’re in their systems, their devices, and their comms.
Ghost boots up his laptop one day, only to find that his standard background has been replaced with a pixelated skull and crossbones- like those they did on pirate ships in movies. Below it, in small text:
For the spookiest boy.
He says nothing, just tilts his head slightly before closing the laptop.
And when Price logs into the briefing room terminal, instead of the standard military insignia, the screen briefly flashes with the words:
WELCOME BACK, CAPTAIN DILF.
Soap loses it. Price glares at him, then at the screen, then sighs, muttering, “Christ.”
Soap isn’t free from your shenanigans, though.
One day, while doing his usual workout, he pulls up his playlist. The moment he presses play, his music app forcefully closes and reopens with “The Drunk Scotsman” blasting at full volume.
“NO, NO, NO-“ Soap scrambles to shut it off as the entire base turns to look at him.
On his screen, once the app is blessedly closed, a message pops up:
(ʘ‿ʘ) Dance, pretty boy.
And then Gaz’s torture is quieter, but no less effective.
Every so often, while he’s texting, his camera light flickers on. Not long enough to take a photo- just a brief, eerie blink before an emoji appears on his screen:
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
He groans. “She’s messing with me.”
“You mean flirting?” Soap smirks, leaning closer to the phone and chuckling as the camera light flickers back on for just another few seconds.
Gaz scowls. “…I hope so.”
Still, despite all your antics, you’re brilliant at what you do. And they learn this firsthand during their first mission with you.
“All teams, check-in.” Price orders as they move through a darkened compound.
Instead of Laswell’s voice responding, it’s yours. Soft, smooth, and playful.
“Five by five, Captain.”
There’s a pause- brief but notable. Then, Price exhales. “You hacking my comms now, too?”
“Wouldn’t be a very good hacker if I couldn’t, would I?”
Soap snorts, snickering with Gaz. “She’s got a point.”
Ghost, listening quietly, murmurs: “Thought you didn’t speak.”
“Only when necessary. Or when I feel like annoying you.”
Your voice is warm, teasing. If Ghost were anyone else, he might have smiled. And then, just like that, you’re all business.
“Sniper on the rooftop, two o’clock.”
Ghost adjusts, and then fires. A body drops.
“Price, your six.”
The captain pivots, taking down the enemy creeping behind him.
“Soap, slow down.”
“I got this,” Soap insists- only for a grenade to go off near him. “…I don’t got this.”
“Clearly.”
“…Shut up.”
With you in their ears, everything runs smoother. Their feeds don’t lag. Their encryptions are tighter. They feel- secure. With you and Laswell? Almost untouchable, but they don’t let it get to their heads.
When they return to base, exhausted but alive, their phones light up with a single message:
( ̄︶ ̄) Good job, boys.
They stare at their screens, and then Price huffs a laugh. Soap grins. Gaz shakes his head. Ghost, unseen beneath his mask, smirks.
They don’t know your face. Haven’t met you in person.
But they decide you’re theirs, and they are yours. Even if you’re just unknown- for now, anyways.
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fingertipsmp3 · 1 year ago
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I really get back from a (1) event and I have to lie in the recovery position for approximately three business days
#it was a wedding reception for THE loveliest couple#i used to work with the bride and the groom is… well certainly a human man#to be honest when i realised i was going to end up sitting with all my former coworkers i proceeded to gulp white wine like it was going out#of style. like jesus christ#i like these people but nothing really prepares you to have to deal with former coworkers on such short notice#and all of them asking what i’m doing now and do i miss mabel#1) freelancing 2) jesus christ of COURSE i do i still cry over her urn like once every two days#then my friend messaged me asking if she could come over and i’m like nah i’m at a wedding and there are at least four units of alcohol#that are actively in my system right now#they’re just rattling around in there cancelling out my prescription meds and lowering my inhibitions#i no longer care what i say so no you can’t come over because i WILL say something mean and my sober self will probably back me up#i NEVER do the whole ‘oh i didn’t mean that; i was high and/or drunk and/or ill and/or ovulating’#like fuck it. maybe i was in a heightened or enhanced or incapacitated state of mind but that WAS still me#i decided in my own brain to say some out of pocket shit and i need to own that. and i’m gonna#so yes i did say to you that i think you’re morally bankrupt and i said it with my whole chest and i meant it at the time and probably#somewhere deep down i DO feel that most of the time. and i’m not sorry about it#(just to give a non-recent example)#like i know just based on what this friend has going on atm that i’m going to give myself an aneurysm trying to keep my drunk self from#saying something insane. and i don’t feel like it right now. sorry#i did leave kind of early because virtually everyone was leaving and the free champagne was gone and i didn’t want to pay for more alcohol#so if you need me i’m going to be reading gideon the ninth and sobering up#i have pilates in the morning. c’est la vie#personal
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egregiousderp · 1 year ago
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Hi, yes! I work US Grocery and specifically the countries of origin MUST be posted accurately on fruits and vegetables in case of a recall. (We do indeed have to change the country of origin every time we cut you a fruit cup. Not to do so accurately merits legal action.)
If it happens repeatedly, especially in reference to avoidance of upcoming or current boycotts, photograph and document it with intent to report to the proper health authorities. (Let the store management know first if you want to be gentle, because you do get new people or genuine mistakes. A good chunk of our employees are exhausted teenagers saving up for their first cars and such.)
Health inspectors do check us for these things because it’s genuinely dangerous to the health of the consumer if you have product coming from an affected area and it’s mislabeled.
The way stores get caught lying all the fucking time about fruits and vegetables…
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Carrefour says that the dates come from Algeria. Except Algeria doesn’t produce Medjoul dates (we make Deglet Noor) so it is impossible that these dates come from Algeria. You know who export Medjoul dates to France? Morocco and “Israel”. Mainly “Israel”. So once again a French store is caught lying to avoid the boycott and to support the occupation of Palestine and the genocide of Palestinians without consequences.
(Reminder that Carrefour is a target of BDS so we’re boycotting regardless of their lies)
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Again caught lying. This time it’s Auchan. The poster with the price says the avocados come from Portugal except the box says “Israel”.
In the video this time in Lidl you can see that the store says the avocados are from Columbia. Except at the person show it on the video the tag says “Origin: Israel”
Regarding avocados especially they lie all the fucking time. I actually stopped buying them because of the constant lies and because even in other countries it’s often produced at the expense of the local population using too much water to satisfy the needs of the West.
Either way I would suggest being super careful look at the box and tags not just what the store tells you. And if you live in France know that this is illegal and you can report all those instances to the DGCCRF (here). If you live elsewhere I suggest looking for the legislation and reporting those lies if you can.
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padawan-snack-packer · 2 months ago
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Don't imagine Rex quietly fixing a younger clone’s armor after hours, muttering, "you gotta take better care of yourself, kid," while he polishes each scratch like it’s sacred.
Don't imagine Fives trying to teach shinies how to play cards, cheating outrageously so they win, whooping and hollering like they’re champions of the galaxy, and slipping a few credits into their pockets when no one's looking.
Don't imagine Cody staying up all night after a tough battle because he's personally stitching medals of bravery into the empty bunks of fallen troopers, so when they’re remembered, they’re remembered right.
Don't imagine Hardcase giving away his dessert rations to any clone who looks even remotely sad, acting like it’s a prank or a dare so no one knows he’s doing it out of love.
Don't imagine Echo re-learning how to shoot left-handed after his injury, stubbornly, painstakingly, so he can teach other injured clones that they’re not broken — just different.
Don't imagine Jesse carving tiny little messages into the walls of every base they’re stationed at. Messages like "501st were here. We fought. We lived." like he's trying to leave proof they mattered.
Don't imagine Dogma leaving tiny notes in people's lockers that just say "you’re doing good." "you’re brave." "I believe in you." — and then feeling too shy to admit it was him.
Don't imagine Wolffe pretending to be annoyed when Boost and Sinker sneak stray animals into the barracks, but secretly building a little hidden shelter for them behind the hangar.
Don't imagine Kix memorizing the medical charts of every single brother in his battalion — birthdays, allergies, old injuries — because he doesn’t trust the GAR systems to care enough (and he's 30000% right).
Don't imagine Tup tending to a tiny makeshift garden in the middle of a warzone with whatever seeds and scraps he can find, because "something’s gotta grow, sir."
Don't imagine Rex carrying every goodbye letters and notes he never got to say or give tucked in the seams of his armor or in a chest under his bed — every brother he couldn’t save, every friend he couldn’t reach — and still standing up the next morning because someone has to lead, and if not him, then who?
Don't imagine Waxer carrying around a crumpled, dirty drawing of Numa from Ryloth in a hidden pocket inside his armor, smoothing it out and smiling every time he feels like the war is eating him alive.
Don't imagine Boil pretending to grumble about it but secretly checking the drawing too, mouthing, "stay safe, little one," before every mission because part of his heart never left Ryloth.
Don't imagine Bly sketching little comic strips in the margins of his field reports to make Aayla laugh during debriefings — and still carrying the last one he never got to show her, tucked inside his chest plate.
Don't imagine Colt teaching his new ARC trainees how to properly tie a tourniquet and lecturing them seriously, but at the end quietly handing each of them a little lucky charm, like an old Republic credit or a braided cord, "for good luck, kid."
Don't imagine Appo still wearing a piece of Fives' blue paint on his armor as a "tradition" without telling anyone where it came from or why it matters so much.
Don't imagine Fox locking himself in his office after long shifts guarding Coruscant because he can’t stand seeing the brothers’ faces when they look at him like he’s a stranger now — so he sits in the dark and listens to the old 501st comms chatter recordings, just to feel something again.
Don't imagine Jesse and Kix starting a stupid prank war in the barracks where they replace each other's ration packs with terrible "mystery meat," laughing until Rex threatens to demote them — but Kix sneaks Rex a spiked caf packet later as revenge.
Don't imagine Tup painting tiny flowers on the inside of his helmet where no one can see them, tiny bursts of color against the cold plastoid — because he wants to carry beauty into battle even if no one else knows.
Don't imagine Dogma standing at the memorial wall and reading every single name out loud, even the ones he never knew, because he thinks someone should.
Don't imagine Waxer and Boil talking about "after the war" plans, like opening a repair shop on Ryloth, taking in lost kids, making sure no one else has to grow up the way they did — and laughing about it like it could actually happen.
Don't imagine Fives pulling a prank so chaotic that even Rex laughs — real, loud, helpless laughter — and Fives looking absolutely stunned before grinning like he'd just been handed the whole galaxy.
Don't imagine Rex tracing the scars on his hands sometimes without realizing, as if he’s trying to memorize every mistake, every battle, every time he almost didn’t make it — and then closing his fist around them like a promise to keep going.
Don't imagine Kix secretly saving every "thank you" note the boys have ever given him — crumpled sticky notes, bad handwriting, a piece of torn armor that just says "thanks doc" — tucked into his med kit like the most valuable supplies he owns.
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aloha-from-angel · 28 days ago
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A clip of the ending of the live-action Lilo and Stitch movie ended up on my feed, so y'all get to hear me bitch about it. Specifically, the idea of Nani giving up Lilo so she can go to a mainland college.
A. Fucking. US MAINLAND. College.
When we're out here doing SO MUCH trying to keep our Native Hawaiians home. Like, are you fucking serious? More Native Hawaiians (53%) now live outside of Hawaiʻi than within it! Only 23% of the Hawaiʻi population is listed as Native Hawaiian—and that number includes mixed-race individuals. (There’s mostly Mixed Plate Specials over here <3)
Think about that for a second. Out of well over a million people living in the islands, only around 300,000 are Native Hawaiian. That’s it.
And yeah, we can dig deeper into those statistics later, but for now, let’s just sit with how absolutely messed up it is that the underlying message of this Cash Grab L&S remake seems to be: “It’s good and right for Nani to give up her little sister to the state and go chase mainland dreams.”
Even worse? It’s Lilo who tells Nani to go. Like that’s supposed to be sweet or inspiring or something.
That is so freaking fucked up.
And it's such a gross misunderstanding of the issue WHY Nani shouldn't and WOULDN'T give her sister up.
Native Hawaiian children are more likely to be removed from their homes for neglect—not abuse. 
Several studies have found: 
Native Hawaiian kids were placed in care more often for neglect than non-Hawaiian kids. They are grossly overrepresented for being taken away because of neglect. 
"But Angel, if these kids are being neglected, they SHOULD be taken away and put in a stable environment, right?"
Yes! If they actually ARE being neglected! And if neglect wasn't based on subjective standards that target Native families! 
I went to a Hawaiian immersion school when I was in elementary school (Also because my brothers were in Special Education and this almost completely Native Hawaiian run school was the BEST for Special Education on the island) and did NOT know that Hawaiian kids were not the actual majority in Hawai‘i until I was in 7th grade and tossed in with the rest of the district in Middle school. 
A good portion of those kids were in foster care. 
Some were because of parental drug abuse or physical abuse, ect, (The local domestic violence shelter was up the road,) but a majority were from parents who were trying VERY hard to regain custody. Aunts and Uncles and Sisters and Brothers and Cousins and Tutus of all genders trying so hard to gain custody in a way that made it so it would be harder for them to be taken away. 
Some reasons I have PERSONALLY seen given as to why Native Hawaiian children have been removed from their homes are: 
"Inability to cope with parenting — (this is extremely subjective and is often a bullshit excuse to say that Native Hawaiian Caretakers aren't good enough. In the case I saw, it was because the mother was a teen mom, but she did a damn good job.) 
Inadequate housing — (Which also includes having "too many people in the house”, when culturally many native Hawaiians live with extended family. Case in point was because the kids lived with their five cousins.) 
Low or misused income — (Literally not having enough money when milk costs 10 dollars a gallon here…)
Broken families — (having a stepmom/stepdad, anything non-traditional.)
These aren't acts of violence against the kids. These are normal family lives. These kids would cry so hard about their home life, they wouldn’t focus on school, they’d act out, they’d hurt other kids and seek any sort of love and attention from stable adults. 
Native Hawaiian kids are: 
Overreported
 Overseparated 
Kept in the system longer 
More likely to re-enter foster care
This isn't unique to Hawai‘i and I won’t pretend it is. Bias in child welfare systems has also been extensively documented in African American and Native American communities, with indigenous peoples especially being targeted, especially recently. In acts that can only be described as a continuation of the White Man’s Burden ideology and residential schools, often POC children are tossed into group homes that see them as little more than a paycheck and a chance to “save the poor little wretches from their people”.
The problem was that the system was built on its own narrow ideas of what “good behavior” looked like—usually the way white middle-class kids were expected to act.
The stories I heard and the things I saw made me understand that the system was not just flawed—it is actively hurting ‘ohana in our state. The reasons kids were taken weren’t always about danger or neglect. 
It’s a quiet kind of violence, but it’s violence all the same. It fractures the very fabric of what makes a community strong—connections, histories, the ability to hold each other through hard times. 
POC children do not do well in the US foster system because of the systemic racism present.
Not to mention that Lilo has behavioral issues and is obviously going through a lot after her parents' death. She's neurodivergent, a POC, and vulnerable now that her parents are gone. 
Nani would be aware of these circumstances. She would never willingly give her sister to a system that is literally against her. And Tūtū can have Lilo removed from her home for anything from being “too old to be capable” to Lilo getting in trouble for violent behavior. (Which she's known for and likely will get worse now that the only person still alive from her immediate family is in FUCKING CALIFORNIA, WHICH, BTW, SENDS THEIR STUDENTS HERE TO STUDY MARINE BIO).
Yes, Nani is allowed to have a life outside of Lilo. She’s a 19-year-old who suddenly had to become a parent to her little sister after unimaginable loss. She’s doing it all alone—no real support system, no safety net, barely scraping by. She is SUFFERING.
But the beauty of the original Nani was that despite all that pain and pressure, she chose to fight tooth and nail for her sister. Because that’s her ʻohana. And as the original movie hammered home: ʻOhana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.
That wasn’t just a cute line or a throwaway bit. It was the theme of the story. It was a message about resilience, love, and keeping your loved ones together—especially in the face of colonialist systems that do try to tear families apart.
And Nani would know what would await Lilo if she were taken away—shuffled through the system, disconnected from her culture, her roots, her ʻāina. She’d be statistically more likely to end up homeless as soon as she turns 18. (Unfortunately this is a reality for so many foster kids I know.)
Yes, she left Lilo with David’s Tūtū. And yes, I’m sure David’s Tūtū is a lovely lady, even though she wasn’t in the original movie. But that’s full-on giving her sister up, letting go of custody and walking away for good. That’s not what the original Nani would do—and it sure as hell shouldn’t be painted as the “right” thing.
Lelau was one of those kids who was a real-life Lilo. (and Lilo was her obsession, ironically, she had so much Lilo and Stitch merch.) Lemme tell you a quick story about her.
She was my best friend for most of elementary school. She wasn’t “bad,” but she was different—emotional, lashed out and behaved in a way that was easy for adults to misread or just plain misunderstand. 
Her older brother had been taken by child services too, but because he was quieter, more “compliant,” he stayed with their older sister who already had a big family. That sister was trying to keep everything together, but with her own kids to raise, the weight was heavy. Meanwhile, Lelau got bounced around between different foster homes and relatives’ places because the system said she didn’t “behave.”
I think about Lelau a lot. I wonder what she would have thought if she watched this trash as a child, and saw herself in this Lilo, and saw herself as more of a burden than she already did.
Because here’s the truth: kids like Lelau already think they’re the problem. They hear it every day, even if no one says it out loud. It’s in the sigh when they walk into a room. It’s in the way teachers pull away, or how other kids are told to “be patient” with them like they’re some sort of test. It’s in the case files that reduce them to diagnoses and risk assessments. And it’s especially in the “well-meaning” media that repaints trauma and neurodivergence as something to grow out of—or to be handled by someone else entirely.
What they don’t get to see nearly enough is the fight to keep them. The fierce, messy, uncompromising love of someone who says: You’re not too much. You’re not broken. You’re mine, and I’m not letting go.
That’s what the original Lilo & Stitch gave us. That’s what Nani was. She wasn’t perfect—she yelled, she struggled, she made mistakes. But she stayed. She kept showing up. And she refused to let the system take her sister. That’s the kind of story Lelau needed. That we all needed as a kid. 
And yeah, the funny blue aliens were the real reasons we watched it as kids, but that doesn’t mean the message was lost on us.
So when I see these rewrites—this gross and horrible story where Nani gives up custody, where that decision is framed as “self-empowering” or “best for Lilo”—I feel sick. I know it’s just a story. But stories matter. Especially to kids who are already hanging on by a thread. Especially to kids like Lelau who don’t have stable adults around, who feel like a problem, who live every day waiting for someone to decide they’re too much and walk away.
Nani and other caregivers deserve better wages, free therapy, housing support, childcare, a goddamn village to help raise that child. Help shouldn’t mean losing the people they’re fighting for. Help should look like wrapping around both the kid and the caregiver. Keeping families together.
But the system doesn’t work that way—by design. It’s rooted in colonialism. It’s built to police poor families, brown families, Native families. It calls it “protection,” but it strips kids of their language, their culture, their names, and places them in homes that get paid to raise them out of context. That’s not safety. That’s assimilation.
Lelau got told again and again that her feelings were “too big,” her reactions were “bad behavior,” and that she needed to learn to “be good.” But what she really needed was someone to say, “I see you. I hear you. I get why this is hard. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She needed what Lilo got in the original story. A sister who would burn the world down if it meant keeping her safe. Her sister tried, god did that sister try, but it was so fucking hard. 
I guess I just keep wondering how many kids are watching this reboot, this sanitized versions of their own pain, and slowly internalizing that they are the problem. That the most “loving” thing they can do is to “stop being the burden”.
But that’s not love. That’s the system talking. That’s white supremacy and capitalism in a child welfare costume. That’s the lie kids like Lelau are told every single day.
And I’m just so fucking tired of it.
If you’re gonna tell a story about broken families, about loss, about trauma, about Hawai‘i, then tell the truth. Don’t paint giving up custody as this amazing, empowered choice if you’re not gonna talk about how the system coerces that “choice” out of people in the first place. Don’t act like this was the best option for the child themselves.
Because I’ve seen what happens when those kids grow up. I’ve seen what happens when no one fights for them. And I’ve seen the difference it makes when someone does.
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fairsweetlonging · 12 days ago
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svsss horror game au where shen yuan is first in line to buy the pidw-inspired rpg where you play as a wandering cultivator with amnesia, and are taken in by the cang qiong sect during the head disciple days of the last peak lord generation.
because pidw knows its audience, a large part of the marketing was focused on the romance and action aspect of the game, with additional lore from deleted novel scenes—how could shen yuan not buy this game? maybe the peak lords will finally be more than props in the background! the romance aspect seems to be at least somewhat tastefully done, if he can trust the leaks, with more emotional depth than fetish fulfillment (shen yuan swears that if there is even one unskippable cutscene of some peak lord's feet he's going to chuck his computer out the window).
shen yuan customizes his character, going all out on the clichés because why not, giving him white hair and peerless beauty and all the characteristics of an A+ wife (beauty is power in pidw), actually excited to play the game. the first part is standard, you wake up in a barn with amnesia, only a sword and some items to your name, and have to do some tutorial quests to get used to the game mechanics. it's simple enough. eventually, you end up in a village that shen yuan is certain is possessed, because all the NPC's act very unnatural and strange, and it's pretty unsettling. here, the player is supposed to meet the cang qiong head disciples on their own quest, who naturally think the player is the most interesting person they've ever seen, a super special cultivator, and will take him in because the player is the most coveted character in the universe (apart from luo binghe, that is).
of course, before shen yuan can get very far, he ends up being transmigrated into the game as his own character. it could be way worse: he's a cultivator, peerlessly beautiful, destined to be picked up by the most prestigious sect, and has his own protagonist halo of sorts. he's honestly pretty excited about this
until he finds out that the marketing heavily downplayed the horror elements of the game.
shen yuan is calmly eating a meal in an inn of the village, waiting for the next quest point to start, when suddenly,
[ system notification ]
"you are being observed"
observation level: ???
entity classification: unknown
engagement protocol: do not acknowledge
right after, the windows go dark, not closed or shuttered, dark, as if something large has just leaned against the side of the building. no one else acknowledges this.
shen yuan shakes it off. it's just a game, it's... ambiance, that's all. build up.
he walks through the streets of the town, using his low-level talismans to try and find traces of the entity he's supposed to defeat or uncover to complete the quest. he pauses beside a broken cart, one of its wheels is half-sunk in the mud. the system pings again.
[ system notification ]
"it's behind you."
note: do not turn around.
(option to suppress message: [ ] not recommended)
the street is utterly silent. a prickle begins at the base of his skull. something is there. some deep animalistic part of him is already screaming not to look.
it disappears. he earns 5 survival points. he hopes he won't have to earn any more.
later that night, shen yuan looks for shelter, finding an old shrine visible from the road, just at the side of town. he steps inside and sees old incense sticks, some forgotten offerings. it's simple, but dry. it will do.
he crosses the threshold—
[ mission triggered ]
mission objective: hide
time limit: unknown
condition to complete: remain unnoticed
footsteps crunch in the leaves outside. every nerve in him goes rigid—not human.
too heavy. uneven. it's coming.
shen yuan ducks behind the offering table, body pressed flat against the ground. he slows his breathing, barely daring to blink. a screen in his peripheral vision blinks to life.
[ environmental mechanic activated ]
microphone mode: ON
sound detection level: HIGH
a semi-transparent sound meter appears. with every shaky breath, the bar pulses red. shen yuan clamps his hands over his mouth.
something passes, just beyond the shrine's opening. large. the system does not count down. there is no timer. the floor boards moan faintly beneath a ponderous weight, something drags across the ground.
shen yuan forces his body still, trembling so hard it hurts his teeth.
it leaves. the system congratulates him for surviving. it doesn't tell him what he just survived.
it's a relief when the head disciples of cang qiong show up, and the story delves into romantic cliches and relationship prompts. he gets to see liu qingge shirtless. shen qingqiu is typical tsundere. yue qingyuan is the soft gentle type. shang qinghua acts... off. he isn't what shen yuan thought he would be, less cunningly charming, more, well. nervous. of all the head disciples, he's the only one who actually seems like he doesn't want shen yuan to be here, always looking around.
like he knows shen yuan didn't come alone.
more instances like this occur. one moment, he's farming reputation points and relationship points with the other characters, doing quests and gathering memory fragments that will help unlock the player's backstory, the next, the system seems determined to make the game hell.
it always comes out of nowhere
[ system update ]
"warning: your heartbeat has been logged by another entity."
would you like to mute heartbeat tracking?
[ ] yes
[ ] no
[ ] it's too late.
he can never figure out what's following him, what that creature from the village is, but it's always there. no one else seems to notice, not a single talisman or ward can stop or detect it.
it comes even when he's in bed, still faintly blushing from a wife-plot equivalent where he fell from a ladder and was caught in wei qingwei's arms. he got to pet the pangolins too!
he's just about to fall asleep when the system pings:
[ mission objective: survive until dawn ]
hint: do not scream
somewhere beneath the floorboards under his bed, something begins scraping. like claws trying to memorize the layout of the house from below. shen yuan doesn't dare move. sleep never comes that night.
*
he can farm intelligence points by attending classes, and being the monster and plant nerd he is, qian cao peak is his first choice (it's either that, being beat up by bai zhan disciples that aren't even liu qingge, or running into shen qingqiu).
in the middle of a lesson on demonic poisons, the system pings quietly
[ system message ]
"one of the bodies in the infirmary is not a body"
objective: don't lose sight of it
shen yuan turns his head, slowly, to the curtained recovery beds along the wall. the curtain on the last one is slightly open.
it wasn't before.
mu qingfang continues speaking. shen yuan doesn't dare to look away.
*
one day, the thing starts to catch up
[ mission failure ]
"the sound you made has been registered"
estimated proximity: 00:00:17
do you want to run?
[ ] yes (not recommended)
[ ] no (not recommended)
*
[ emergency notice ]
"you were seen"
objective: hide
time limit: expired
success rate: 2%.
do you want to proceed?
[ ] yes
[ ] yes
*
[ achievement unlocked: it found you anyway ]
*
anyway, can you tell i had fun with the horror prompts? ^_^
i just have sooooo many ideas for the player's backstory, where it seems the character is just a blank slate for the player to project themselves onto, but there is so much more to them than you think. im also having loads of fun with the creature that follows the player around, i love making it as disturbing as possible.
mild spoiler: the creature is real and connected to the player. other characters can't detect or interact with it, but it's slowly growing stronger. shang qinghua is, of course, airplane, and as he was directly involved with the production of this game, he knew that as soon as an OC showed up, that thing wouldn't be far behind.
also, i love the idea of shang qinghua being stuck in a dating simulator as one of the options to romance. now shang qinghua has to play along with his own cringy cliche meetcutes, like showing the player around, flirting with the player, and generally playing the role of suave administrator with a dark secret (he's terrible at it). he had to do the "there's an eyelash on your cheek allow me" move on the player (shen yuan), and almost cringed out of his own skin. though, shang qinghua is the only one who can properly emphasize with the player, because he actually knows what horrid creature is stuck to him and what kind of horror scenarios the player has to go through (accidental cumplane? it's more likely than you think).
it's a bit of a mindfuck too, because shang qinghua can't tell whether the player is also a transmigrator, a puppet controlled by someone from another dimension, or a fleshed out OC of the system. he's also not allowed to ask, so it remains ambiguous. until, of course, they find out they're transmigrators and shen yuan has to deal with the fact he almost romanced airplane.
shen yuan makes a joke about defeating the creature with the power of love. shang qinghua says he wished it was that easy.
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