#‘ I will call for less violence not more violence. 🥺🥺’

[bolshefem]

if you think people are more empathetic to women than men you are straight up fucking delusional. men have proved themself almost INCAPABLE of empathy for women, and this is statistically and empirically supported. they are incapable of understanding that women have an internal life, do not see us as humans with emotions who exist external to them. look at the comments on a post of a man talking about self harm vs a woman. "men's mental health matters too🥺" "I'm proud of you" vs "attention whore" "sideways for attention downwards for results" "ugly bitch trying to get sympathy"

this is what happens for ANYTHING regarding sexual assault, mental health, suffering, trauma.

or an overweight man vs woman "keep your head up king👑" "you got this bro, I believe in you" "these women don't deserve you." (like totally unprompted not discussing relationships) Or often no comments on his weight at all if he's not talking about it. For a woman, no matter WHAT she is posting about "landwhale" "starve yourself" "put down the burger" "kys fat b*tch" and the most vile and insanely cruel comments The amount of threads and forums dedicated to eviscerating degrading and insulting overweight women on places like lolcow and kiwi farms and just social media in general and I genuinely have never seen one for a man. Same thing with things like facial deformities, the comments are unbelievably cruel to these women.

the level of vitriol is not even remotely comparable, and I don't even think it's mostly a double standard. I think they just lack the capacity to feel empathy towards women and perceive them as human and capable of feeling pain. Things are solely perceived in how they relate to them and thought to be performances for men. Women exist to serve them and if they don't give them a boner they don't deserve to be alive. If something, no matter how innocuous, pisses them off in the slightest they don't have a single qualm because they just don't view them as real people and full human beings with internal lives. women having emotions is inherently manipulative, anything they say or do is a performance for men. And like look at things such as the gender credibility gap https://www.tedxmilehigh.com/gender-credibility-gap/ Women are systematically less believed as witnesses in a courtroom, reporters, academic authorities, in claims of sexual assault, discrimination, or harassment.*

Women's reports of pain symptoms are less likely to be believed by doctors, and they are staggering more likely to not receive proper medication, go undiagnosed and untreated. Women are 32% more likely to die post-op if their surgeon is a man. "Womens' pain not taken as seriously as mens' pain. Researchers found that when male and female patients expressed the same amount of pain, observers viewed female patients' pain as less intense "(sciencedaily.com/releases/2021/04/210406164124.htm) "Nearly three-quarters of cases where a disease primarily affects one gender, the so-called “men's diseases” are overfunded, while the “women's diseases” are dramatically underfunded."

https://www.concernusa.org/story/gender-bias-in-healthcare/ https://www.washingtonpost.com/wellness/interactive/2022/women-pain-gender-bias-doctors/ https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/gender-bias-in-medical-diagnosis#how-does-it-affect-diagnosis https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/women-and-pain-disparities-in-experience-and-treatment-2017100912562 I could literally go on on this topic forever. The gender empathy gap is a form of epistemic violence against women.

* "Suicidal behaviour and self-harm in women can be viewed by family, health professionals and the community as attention-seeking, manipulative and non-serious, which can negatively influence how young women are treated." (Curtis, 2016) *Men with overweight tend to be perceived as wise or experienced, while women's credibility tends to decrease with excess weight... women seem to experience higher levels of weight stigmatization than men, even at lower levels of excess weight (Flint et al., 2016)

*Women are at greater risk for weight/height discrimination than men (Puhl et al, 2008)

*so many papers on this but "Across the board, women are perceived to be less credible than men. Especially women’s testimonies of rape and sexual harassment are widely trivialized and disregarded, even though reports of sexual abuse are not more likely to be false than reports of other crimes" (Schreurs, 2020) more like Mack, 1993

[astrophileous]

Let's Put On a Show

Part 2 of 4 from The Countdown series.

The above image does not indicate the reader's physical appearance.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: As his undercover life begins, Derek finds that the biggest enemies he has to battle are past memories and resurfaced feelings.

Word Count: 7500-ish

Warning(s): 18+ NSFW CONTENT (minors dni); penetrative sex; vaginal fingering; alcohol consumption; derek might be a little bit of an asshole in certain parts; talks and/or implications of illegal trades (narcotics, firearms, explosives), human trafficking, past trauma (child abuse), reproduction, infertility (mentioned), coercion into sex (not by Derek), attempted rape (not by Derek), degrading nicknames (cocksle*ve—not by Derek), noncon strangulation during sex (not by Derek), physical violence, physical torture, violence against a child; pls lmk if I missed anything

Author's Note: this one is..... y'know what, I'll let you judge by yourself. pls be mindful of the warnings I've listed above. DON'T READ IF YOU THINK ANY OF IT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING. another special mention to @avis-writeshq for beta and for bearing with me 🥺💞 with that said, don't forget to LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG <3

Criminal Minds Masterlist

It was a couple of weeks later when Temples called for another meeting at the factory.

"Everything's set and good to go," Temples informed almost as soon as you had stepped into the threshold. "Derek Miller will be reporting for duty in two weeks."

Temples handed you the tablet containing a digital file filled with documents about Derek Miller's life. You were instantly reminded by the memory of receiving a similar looking tablet, scrolling through the endless documents of the persona you had been living with for the past few years.

"How do you wanna initiate contact?" you asked as you handed the tablet to Derek.

"I called in some favors from Bastoni. He's gonna vouch for Miller," Temples explained. "I trust you can handle the rest?"

You confirmed with a solid nod.

"It's happening," Derek muttered.

"You ready?"

Derek's eyes flew towards yours. "As I'll ever be."

"Good." A gentle breeze blew against your face, as if preparing along for the inevitable storm ahead. "Let's put on a show, shall we?"

"Derek."

Wrapped in your breathy moan, Derek's name was a world-class symphony. The soft expanse of skin glided against his own in a dance that he had known all too well. Above him, you were a goddess reincarnated, writhing for pleasure and setting flames to every nerve-ending in Derek's body.

"Derek, fuck. I'm gonna—"

"I know. I've got you, sweetheart." Derek's arms circled your waist, pulling you close until your chest was pressed against his. "Feel so good around me. Shit."

It took less than a minute for Derek to finally feel you coming undone around him, the sensation of your pulsating walls triggering his own release. Derek kept rutting up against you even as he was emptying himself into the condom, drawing tiny circles on your bundle of nerves and holding you tighter as your body spasmed some more from overstimulation.

Derek's lips brushed a feather-light touch on your cheek, tasting salt where sweat and tears of pleasure had mixed. You got up from his lap as soon as you regained the first bit of strength in your limbs, pretending that your legs weren't on the verge of breaking like sticks as you teetered towards the bathroom.

He was just returning from the kitchen with a bottle of water when you finally re-emerged.

"Let's put on a show," you suggested, now clad in your wrinkled shirt that was buttoned merely halfway.

Derek handed you the bottle before settling back under the duvet. "What do you wanna watch?"

"I don't know. What's on?"

You found your way back easily to Derek's side. It was muscle memory by now, the way you gravitated towards him and the way he'd welcome you easily into his arms. The bedroom lit up in the presence of your giddy smile when you saw one of your favorite Law & Order episodes playing on the TV.

"Hey," Derek spoke after ten full minutes of silence. "A buddy of mine is getting married next week."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's great."

"I wanted to see if you'd come with me."

The offer caught you off guard. Derek knew it from the way you tossed your attention so fast from the courtroom scene on the TV and towards him.

"Come with you to the wedding? As... your date?"

"Do you want to come with me as anything else?" Derek deadpanned.

An intangible weight shifted in the atmosphere when you decreased the TV volume all the way to zero. Derek didn't like the way you were examining him at that moment, as if you were trying to find a crack in an otherwise immaculate ornament.

"I thought you were fine with our arrangement the way it is."

"We've never even discussed it. You avoid me every time I try to bring it up."

Your chest swelled around a shaky breath. Derek never thought a few inches could feel like an entire ocean until he stared at the distance between where the two of you were sitting against the headboard.

"You don't wanna do this with me."

"What the hell does that mean?"

There was no mitigating the hostility in Derek's voice. He thought it must have been an act of fortification when you opted to leave the bed and began pacing the room, stepping further and further from him until the previous ocean finally metamorphosed into a freaking planet.

"I can't be somebody's girlfriend, Derek."

He ignored the resonant snap in his chest. "Can't or won't?"

"I won't because I can't. It's complicated. You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me." Derek rose from the bed, erasing the distance that had stolen you away from him. His chest felt thirty pounds heavier as he stood in front of you. "Help me understand. I want to understand. Please."

You sank on the edge of the mattress, with Derek kneeling before you as though prepared to launch himself forward if ever you would need him to. His hand hovered above your knee, dithering and unsure, petrified over the possibility of you pushing his hand—or worse, him—away.

"I've never had anyone in my life aside from my brother. Nobody before you." Derek perched his hand on your thigh at your revelation. "I don't know how to be with someone. How to care for them. How to love. I've been alone most of my life, and I work better that way. I only know how to be alone."

"That's not true," Derek denied abruptly. "You know how to be with me."

"That's different."

"How is that different?"

"Because you haven't needed anything else but sex from me up until now."

Derek faltered in shock.

You didn't think you ever saw him looking so wounded.

"That's what you think? That I've only ever used you for sex?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Sounds like that's exactly what you meant to say to me." Nothing could be more fragile than the voice that roused when he next spoke, "Is it something I said? Did I do something to make you believe that sex was all I wanted from you?"

"No, Derek. Of course not. Dammit, I told you I didn't mean it like that." You ran an agitated hand over your face before continuing, "We've never spent time with each other that didn't start or end with our clothes off. That's how it's always been between us, and I'm okay with that. I'm good at sex. That's why everything has worked out so far. But a relationship?" You laughed sardonically. "I don't know how to do it. What will happen when you need me to be there for you, and I'm constantly letting you down? What will happen when you start needing more than just my body, only to realize there's nothing left inside of me to offer?"

The air thickened around your throat.

You peered up to see whether or not Derek had caught that last bit of slip-up in your extempore speech. You hadn't meant to divulge it. You hadn't meant to articulate your fear so plainly in front of him like that.

What will happen when you start needing more than just my body, only to realize there's nothing left inside of me to offer?

Slowly, as though trying not to startle an easily-spooked rabbit, Derek took a seat right beside you on the bed. The scent of sandalwood attacked your senses instantaneously.

"You have so much to offer than you realize, sweetheart," Derek murmured. "You're every good thing in my life, can't you see?"

You shook your head in rebuttal. "That's the thing. I'm not good, Derek. You can't see it now, but you will eventually."

"Sweetheart—"

"I'm gonna hurt you, you know?" You looked up at him through the pooled tears in your waterlines. Derek decided right then and there that he despised the sight of you crying in front of him. "Maybe not today. Maybe it won't be tomorrow either. But someday, somehow, I will do something—or say something stupid, because that's what I do—and you'll hate me for it."

"That's fucking impossible."

"You don't believe I'm capable of hurting you?"

"No." His hand flew to your face, dragging a comforting thumb on the anxious lines that had embellished your forehead. "I don't believe I'm capable of hating you."

You loathed being at the depot in the middle of the day, especially underneath a scorching summer like this one. It was an uncommon occurrence that you found yourself there while the sun was still out. After all, whatever business was going down in that place called for discreet logistics, and since secrecy was a nighttime affair, you rarely visited the container yard during the day.

Alas, a big package coming in from Bolivia was supposed to arrive one week ago but found itself shipped elsewhere instead. This unexpected hiccup had drowned you in a copious amount of paperwork for days, followed by a substantial scoop into The Big Boss' personal vault. The delay also meant you had to do everything in broad daylight to catch up with the tight schedule on your hands. Kreczmar wasn't happy about the whole ordeal, and frankly, neither were you.

As you stood with your back against one of the disposed wooden crates, you kept an eagle eye on the men unloading the contents of the Bolivia containers out to the yard. There were three in total: two carrying the hottest illegal substances on the market, and another one filled with smuggled explosives and weaponry.

The men were pushing off the last crate from the second container when a figure plopped next to your right.

"We need to talk," Derek announced without so much as a greeting.

"Hello to you too."

You could feel his eyes on the side of your face as he spoke, "I'm stopping by your room later tonight."

"You can't. I'm expecting Kreczmar tonight."

Derek's stare was sweltering on your cheek. Even after the two months he had spent under, Derek couldn't warm up to the idea of your arrangement with Aleksander Kreczmar. In fact, he constantly scorned it at any given chance.

"Fine. I'll stop by after you're done."

"What is this about, Derek?"

"Not now, sweetheart. Later."

You watched as Derek walked away towards the other men, leaving you yearning alone over his retreating back.

In the span of two months, Derek had managed to fit in better than you initially thought he would. Miller the Stiller, they had dubbed him. Derek told you it was because he sent any room into a standstill due to his domineering presence—to which you had rolled your eyes blatantly to his face—but chatter from the back rooms told you that the nickname came from his good looks that, apparently, never failed to render anyone speechless.

As it turned out, Kreczmar's crooks were just as vulnerable to Derek Morgan's charm as the average women were. You didn't blame them. You, too, had fallen victim to that same charm many years ago.

Derek moved with authority among the sea of men, molding into the perfect puzzle piece to slot himself in between Kreczmar's thugs. You watched every inch of his movement like a hawk, stopping only when a rugged voice slashed through your pristine reverie.

"Ghost." Jan Borowicz stood to your left with the same signature frown across his graying eyebrows. His eyes, as always, were uncharacteristically warm for a man of his repute. "Something you should see."

You followed the middle-aged man to the back of another container, where you saw a figure crouching down with a hunched head between their knees. You didn't need to see their face to know who it was.

"Paolo." The 13 year-old looked up at the sound of his name. You rushed over to his side, your hands going straight to the fresh cuts and bruises smeared on the boy's face. "What happened?"

Paolo's eyes flared with fear. The answer you searched for eventually came from Jan, "I saw him with Ralph Grader earlier."

You recognized the name almost immediately. Grader was one of the new recruits from a few weeks ago; a petty thief who worked for one of Kreczmar's smaller branches before being transferred to the headquarters. You hadn't bothered memorizing anything else about the bastard—not even his face—because you thought he would be smart enough to realize his insignificance to never cause any trouble.

Well, you definitely got that one wrong.

"Is that true? Did Grader do this to you?"

Paolo never granted you a verbal answer, but the way he recoiled at the name told you everything you needed to know.

You turned to Jan with a newfound ire in your chest. "Where's Grader now?"

"Unloading with the rest of 'em."

You helped Paolo to his feet before marching over towards where the men were working. Most of them stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw you approaching, Jan and Paolo hot on your heels.

"Grader." Your voice was ice as it traveled throughout the group. "Ralph fucking Grader."

A scuffle at the back of the crowd caught your attention. It was a few seconds later when two of the men appeared in front of you, holding up a scruffy man—whom you could only assume as Grader—between the both of them. They shoved Grader on his knees, earning a rather loud hiss from the bastard.

"Let's not waste anyone's time and get straight to the point, shall we? You know why you're here." You reached for the gun in your holster, pulling it out before aiming the barrel to Grader's forehead. "You're gonna give me the answer I need before I finish counting to three, and I may have just enough mercy to let you keep your life."

"What—"

"One."

"Wait. Wait. Wait a second—"

"Two."

"I don't—"

"Th—"

"Okay! Okay! Fine, I confess!" Grader exclaimed. "It was me. I did that to him."

"You're not fucking stupid. Tell everyone what you did."

Grader trembled like a leaf before your eyes. You could read the forgiveness he sought with his gaze—no doubt similar to the one Paolo had flashed to him before he charged at the boy—and your chest glutted with relish to see the scoundrel grovel at your feet.

"I did it. I beat up Paolo," Grader confessed.

Tension fulminated in the air. Everybody was holding their breath as they waited to see what you would do next: show compassion or assign Ralph Grader an even worse fate than death?

The moment you lowered your gun from Grader's forehead, everyone knew that you had chosen the latter.

"You know what to do," you declared towards the two men—Vin and Al—who had brought Grader to you.

The two of them each grabbed Grader's arm before dragging him away from the scene. You didn't cast a single look towards Grader's direction even when he started pleading for his life.

"You can hold down the fort on your own, yeah?" you asked Jan, to which he gave you a single agreeing nod. "Good. Everyone else, back to work."

The crowd dispersed instantly upon your command.

As you were taking the first step to your leave, your eyes caught Derek's dark ones from the distance. Without another word, you turned around and followed Ralph Grader's drag marks on the ground, shunning the weight of Derek's stare that seemed to bore a hole straight through your skull.

"You okay?" Derek murmured in your ear.

Your answer was a stern nod—one that would satisfy any other person—but Derek Morgan was never any other person to you.

The man didn't hesitate to bid a quick goodbye to the host—claiming that there was an important errand the two of you needed to take care of, despite your incessant complaints—before pulling you along to the lot where his car was parked.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on?" Derek questioned as soon as the car left the vicinity of Jennifer Jareau's house.

"Nothing's going on."

"You underestimate my ability to read you like an open book."

In the corner of his eye, Derek could see you staring out the window as if the city billboards were playing a non-stop rerun of your favorite movie. JJ's house shrinked in the rearview mirror with every yard the car sped through, and Derek thought he would suffocate in the silence if it continued any further.

He pulled up next to a curb as soon as he saw an empty spot he could park his car in. Confusion pranced in your eyes when Derek grabbed your hands in his.

"Talk to me."

"About what you said to JJ—" you evaded Derek's eyes, choosing to glout at your connected hands instead, "—did you mean that?"

Derek's forehead creased. He tried to pinpoint exactly which conversation with JJ you might have meant.

"About having a baby," you continued before Derek could ask you to clarify.

Understanding dawned on him in an instant.

JJ and Will had called for a merry celebration with the baby shower for their second child. All of Derek's dearest friends were in attendance, and he couldn't think of a more perfect opportunity to have you officially introduced to the team that had been his found family for the past several years. Some of them had met you in passing before, but this was the first occasion Derek could finally introduce you as his.

It was a joyous occasion, and in the midst of it all—after Derek had wished JJ a safe delivery and healthiness for both the mother and the baby—his blonde teammate had eyed the two of you cheekily and blurted out, "You guys are next, right?"

To which he replied without thinking, "Hopefully."

It was a lapse of judgment on his part, but Derek never expected the repercussions to be afflicting you this greatly.

"Hey, look at me." Derek's knuckles brushed against your cheekbone until your eyes leveled with him once more. "Don't take it to heart. I was making lighthearted conversations. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Maybe." You pushed his hand away from your face, and Derek nearly groaned at the loss of contact. "But it's still something you want to do, right? Maybe not now, but later down the road?"

"Sweetheart." Derek tried to coax you into looking at him again, sighing heavily when you refused. "Do you not want kids?"

Derek's question crashed like a sinking ship in the air; slow and painful, catastrophic and dreadful. The firm grip he had on your knee would usually suffice as a life vest, but at that moment, the touch was nothing more than a stack of stones weighing you down even further.

"It's not about what I want."

"What do you—"

"I can't have kids."

There was no concealing the shock on Derek's face.

Out of everything he expected you to say, nothing could have prepared him for that admission. He didn't know how to respond to such a vulnerable confession. The way you were sitting right then, though—pressed against the door with your knees pointed away from Derek, as if you were an impala cornered by a lion—told him that any physical gesture he could present wouldn't be responded in kind.

"How long have you known?" was what Derek ended up asking after a while had passed.

"I think I've always known. It's not that I... I don't... There's no medical reason behind it. It's just something I can't do, Derek. Do you understand?"

He did.

Derek didn't think he could understand anyone better than he understood you at that moment.

As he watched your fingers trifle with the hem of your top, the abstract doodles in his head rearranged into a much clearer picture. He knew, then, that your incapability to have children wasn't caused by any physical factor. You simply wouldn't permit yourself to believe that you were capable of doing it.

It didn't take a genius to understand that this incapability was nothing less than a fear in disguise, stemmed from the years of abuse you had to endure as a child.

Derek hated to be profiling you during times like this, but the skills he had harvested from years on the job didn't exactly come with an off button. He had seen cases like this; where constant disappointment from loved ones gradually evolved into disappointment of one's self. Where the threat of projecting that same disappointment on others often led to drastic measures being taken.

In this case, the fear of turning out like your parents led you to believe that you didn't deserve to be a mother.

And that couldn't be further from the truth.

When Derek tried telling you this, you automatically shut down his attempt.

"Please, Derek. I know what you're trying to say. And I know that technically, you're right. But I just... I can't, okay? This isn't up for debate. I'll never be able to have kids. Not now. Not ever."

The finality of your words was indisputable.

Derek appraised you in its aftermath.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Not now. Not ever," Derek emphasized, grabbing your hand to circle a soothing touch on top of it. "You're in charge here, baby. We won't do anything you don't wanna do. You should know by now that I'd follow you blindly anywhere you lead me to."

"But I thought... Don't you want kids?"

"I want you more." Derek kissed you as though he was foregrounding his promise. The residual apprehension in your body evaporated at the first taste of his lips. "You're all I need, sweetheart."

The sight of your smile awakened something in Derek's chest. As he basked in your luminance, Derek could feel the shape of three little words consolidating inside of him. They frolicked around as if waiting to be said out loud, but Derek bit his tongue before they could slip past his lips.

The three little words could wait.

After all, there would be other opportunities for him to confess his undying love to you.

There were two rapid knocks on the door, a pause, a knock, a pause, and then another knock.

Derek Morgan was at the door.

It was already the third time Derek had ever been in the comfort of your bedroom, but it was the first time he stepped in there so soon after you had just finished your appointment with Kreczmar. The evidence of your time with the crime lord was still palpable in the unkempt state of your bed. Derek never thought the sight of ruffled bed sheets could feel like hot coals being shoved forcefully down his throat, and yet here he was.

"Drink?" you suddenly asked from your place by the liquor table.

There was no chance for him to respond before you thrusted a glass of whiskey in his face.

"It's not poisoned," you quipped after seeing the reluctance in his eyes. "I just got it as a gift. Old Fitzgerald. Good stuff."

Derek's jaw hardened the moment you mentioned the word gift. He didn't need further clarification to guess from whom "the gift" had originated.

"No, thanks." He put down the glass back on the table. "If you don't mind."

"Suit yourself."

The robe you were wearing spread out the second you sat down on the ottoman bench, revealing the naked length of your legs. Derek used to memorize every inch of those limbs better than he could memorize the lines on his palm.

"You said you wanted to talk?" you questioned.

Derek watched as you leaned back against the foot of the bed. Your navel was nearly exposed to him from this new position, but you crossed one of your legs over the other before you could flash him a peek. With the golden drink in your hand, you were the definition of a sinful temptation.

Derek buried his hands in his pockets and looked away. "I'm hearing chatter about a shipment coming in a couple of weeks. It's not listed in any of the existing manifests."

"Have you checked with the ones still awaiting approval?"

"I did. None in there as well."

"Hm. Interesting." You took a sip of your drink, savoring the burn while you lost yourself in contemplation. "Is the intel legit?"

"I heard it from Lascano."

You hummed thoughtfully at the name.

Mateo Lascano was one of Kreczmar's trusted right-hand men, though you'd argue that his loyalty resembled that of a guard dog just to see the man tremble with rage. You never liked the guy, and fortunately for you, the feeling was very much reciprocated. He harbored a nasty gash on his left cheek courtesy of your pocket knife from that one time he had challenged you to a spar after questioning your competence in front of Aleksander Kreczmar himself.

The taste of victory from that day was still sweet on your tongue, even underneath the bitter note from the whiskey you were nursing.

"He's an asshole, but his words do warrant some substance." You rose from your seat and headed for the liquor table to top up your glass. "I'll see what I can find out about it from Kreczmar."

"You think that's wise?"

"Why wouldn't that be?"

"He may get suspicious."

"I have my own ways with him. Trust me."

Derek's fists clenched against his sides.

You should have known by now that Derek's objections were never a matter of trust. He might still be leery about trusting you with his heart, but there was no question whether or not he would trust you with his life. Derek knew you would dive in front of a bullet for him if given the chance; a sentiment he both shared and requited in kind.

He did, however, have a strong disapproval of your so-called ways of handling things with Kreczmar.

"What's your plan, sweetheart? Fuck the bastard until you loosen his tongue?"

The drink in your hand stopped swirling. The glass fell with a loud thump when you slammed it back on the table.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

"My problem?" Derek gritted his teeth. He stalked forward as though you were a convenient prey, blocking every possible exit until the only respite you were left with was the wall against your back. "You want to know what my problem is?!"

The next thing you knew, Derek had gripped your robe in his hand, yanking on the collar until you let out a reflexive shriek.

"This—" Derek began, his voice suddenly taking on a more gentle edge, reiterated by the touch he brushed against your neck, "—is what my fucking problem is."

You didn't need to look in the mirror to know what Derek was seeing in his eyes; to know what kind of marks you would glimpse if a reflection of you were to spawn in the middle of the room at that exact same second. After all, those bruises on your neck were pretty much identical to the ones that had tarnished your skin so many times prior. They always appeared in the ugliest splotches of blue, red, and purple, encircling your throat in the shape of Aleksander Kreczmar's hand.

You flung Derek's hands away before securing the robe tightly around yourself. There was a reason you liked that robe. It covered up your dirty little secret from any prying eyes.

Except for Derek's.

"How long has it been going on?" he asked.

You couldn't answer him.

What would Derek do if he found out that Kreczmar had been hurting you that way for as long as you had known the man?

The first time it happened, you hadn't seen it coming. Kreczmar left you gasping for air in the middle of your bed as soon as he was done, paying not even the slightest attention to the fact that you had nearly lost your life in his hand.

After numerous times going through the same thing, though, you eventually managed to learn how to ensure your survival by the time Kreczmar was done having his way with you.

It was a fucked up situation in an equally fucked up life. You made your peace with it a long time ago. This was merely an occupational hazard that you needed to learn to live with.

When you told Derek as much, the man proceeded to glower.

"Occupational hazard? That's all your life amounts to you? A fucking occupational hazard?!"

"What the hell do you want me to do here, Derek?"

"To stop being stupid, that's what."

"Stupid?" That single word was a blade through your chest. Red, fiery anger filled the gaping wound it left behind with every second that ticked by. "You're calling me stupid for doing my fucking job?!"

"It's not your job to offer yourself up as a punching bag for that bastard!"

"Yes, it is! My God, Derek. Of course, it is. You and I both know that it's part of the job description. It's a sacrifice I have to make for the greater good."

"And I'm telling you right now that you don't need to make that sacrifice. Nothing is worth putting yourself up as a sacrifice." Derek's voice fizzled to a low murmur, leaking desperation where his previously intact vigor had been punctured. "There are other ways to do this, sweetheart. I can help you find another way."

"Another way? You don't think I've thought of that after more than four years in this hell hole? Do you seriously think that letting myself be used by Kreczmar, keeping my life and my body at his disposal, was my first fucking choice?!"

Derek couldn't hide the physical reaction he had at your words. He couldn't help it. The thought of what Kreczmar had done and could do to you pained him more than what any type of injury could inflict on his body.

The man saw your knees buckle, but he could only watch you fall onto the edge of the bed after you smacked his hands away when he sprung forward to help. Derek swallowed down the bile in his throat. In front of him, your shoulders drooped as if Atlas himself had bequeathed his burden for you to bear.

"Miller the Stiller. That's what they call you, right? Tell me, who came up with the name?"

Derek frowned at the unexpected question. "Why?"

"Just fucking answer me, Derek."

"It was McCloskey."

"Justin McCloskey?" The scoff that fell from your lips echoed in the heated room. McCloskey was a drunk and a pervert who constantly begged to have his mouth taped shut. It didn't surprise you to find out that he had been the one responsible for Derek's nickname. After all, assigning nicknames to other people seemed to be one of his favorite downtime activities. "Do you know the story of how he lost the tip of his pinky finger?"

Derek could hear the blood surging in his veins. "Did you do that to him?"

"I did. Right after he tried to rape me." You rose from the bed languidly, as if you didn't just drop a bomb that obliterated every piece of Derek's whole sanity, and headed back to the liquor table to snatch the drink you left behind. "He wasn't the first. Others had groped me, sneaked into my room when I wasn't looking. McCloskey just happened to pull the short end of the stick. He used to make everyone call me a cocksleeve, did you know that?"

Of course not. Derek had no way of knowing it, and you knew that. Still, you let the question hang in the air out of pure spite.

"Those same people who worship your ass now, Derek, are the same dickheads who used to treat me like garbage. What I did to McCloskey didn't even hinder them. It wasn't until Kreczmar implied his claim over me did those bastards finally leave me alone." You ambled back towards the bed, now with a much-needed drink in hand, before sitting back down on the soft mattress. "I know you think that I brought myself into this situation, and you're right, I did. But only because it was the only way for me to survive."

A temporary silence settled in the room. Derek allowed it to simmer because he didn't know what to say.

"We're stuck in the same game but in two completely different playing fields, Derek." You smiled ruefully. "I didn't have the luxury to pick my own battles as you obviously do. If being known as The Big Boss' side piece was the only way for me to get my foot in the door, then I was completely willing to do it. It took me four years to garner the same amount of respect that you've gained after being here for only two months. So don't talk to me about finding another way, because whatever it is you can think of, I've done it. Believe me."

With everything off your chest, you gulped the remaining drink in the glass, savoring the burn it ignited all the way down your throat. The pressure solidifying in your ribcage traveled to your head at an agonizing pace. You closed your eyes to brace yourself for the incoming headache.

It felt like hours later, when in reality, it must have been mere minutes when you eventually heard the first shuffle of feet. Even without opening your eyes, Derek's presence was incontestable as it circled your bedroom. Your ears followed his movements until he stopped by the bed, directly in front of where you were sitting.

Gentle fingers hooked themselves beneath your chin, tugging upward and urging your eyes to open once more.

"What are you doing?" you asked as Derek sat down next to you. In his hand was a bottle of ointment that you had previously stored on the vanity table.

"May I?" Derek asked as his other hand reached forward, skimming above the neckline of your robe without actually touching. "Please."

Two frail nods from you were the only confirmation that Derek needed.

His touches were butterfly wings against your skin. They fluttered until the left sleeve of your robe pooled around your elbow, revealing your shoulder and decolletage, dangerously close to where the curves of your breast began.

When he rubbed the fragrant ointment on the odious bruises specking your neck, your chest deflated in an exhale.

"Does it hurt?" Derek asked.

You shook your head no.

In fact, Derek's ministrations were the exact antonym of pain. He handled you as if you were porcelain, infused with fragility and in need of utmost care. You couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched you that way—so tender and loving, without an ounce of malevolent intention buried underneath—but you were willing to bet that it had also been Derek who gave you those last few soft touches before you were rammed into this belligerent life.

You were lost in the rapture, only realizing that a moment had gone by when Derek finally shook you back to reality.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Your responding sigh was music to his ears. "Don't stop."

Who was he to deny the plea of a reincarnated goddess, anyway?

Instead of withdrawing after he was done applying the ointment, Derek opted to lean in, kissing every patch of contusion and condemning the abysmal memories tied to it away. A flicker started in the pit of your stomach for each one of his kisses, but once Derek slid further down your body, those same flickers turned into fireworks that erupted in tandem with the drag of his lips.

"Derek—"

He shushed you against your collarbone. "I'm sorry for what I said, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you. Let me make you feel good, hm?"

You were barely able to nod before he lurched forward and tugged your robe further down.

You couldn't quell your moan when Derek's mouth latched onto your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud until you felt it standing taut. Your other breast became the object of his fingers' attention as they toyed with it, squeezing and massaging before his mouth decided to switch places between the two.

After he successfully transformed you into a panting mess, Derek pulled back and captured your lips in a desperate kiss.

It thrilled you, peculiarly, to find that Derek's lips tasted just the same as you had remembered it. Not only were his kisses the same, but the way he handled your body like a fiddle was also the same. You lost yourself deeper in the abyss of Derek Morgan, surprised to find yourself volunteering to dive deeper into him even when you knew consequences would be waiting for you once you decided to resurface.

With a heaving breath of his own, Derek murmured against your lips, "Tell me to stop."

"No."

"Good." He pressed you back until you were lying on the bed. "Because I'm gonna worship you exactly like you deserve."

At the first stroke of his thumb over your clit, you couldn't do anything else but mewl.

Derek teased your bundle of nerves while keeping loyal attention to the gasps you let out and the tics in your countenance. Your hands gripped his biceps tighter with each swipe across your clit, feeling the arousal pool bigger in your belly, but also noting it from the obscene sound of your wetness on Derek's fingers.

When he started to prod around your entrance, you couldn't contain the loud moan from spilling past your lips.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart," Derek muttered once two of his fingers were sheathed inside. "So warm and wet. This all for me?"

"All for you, Derek. Please, please, I need you to—"

"Hm? What do you need, baby?"

"Move." As if emphasizing your plea, you ground yourself down against his hand. "Please, need you to move."

With a kiss on your temple, Derek pulled his fingers back out—marveling the way your wetness coated them—before plunging the digits back inside and curling them against the spot that knocked the breath straight out of your lungs.

It didn't take long for Derek to find his rhythm, pushing you further to the brink of exultation with encouraging whispers against your cheek. You clawed at his face to pull him closer—as though his whole body wasn't caging you in already—and despairingly seized his lips in a kiss. Derek welcomed you with a groan, swallowing the needy sounds you made as his sensual ministratration picked up its pace.

"So good... Derek, please—"

"I know, sweetheart." Derek's fingers inside you never relented. He angled his hand slightly without ever leaving your heat, letting the heel of his palm smother your clit until you cried out in delight. "Can feel you squeezing me. Shit. Gripping me like a vice, baby. You'd feel so good around my cock."

Derek's words triggered another loud moan from deep within your throat. The thought of him driving into you only spurred on your arousal. This newfound excitement wasn't lost on Derek. He could tell that you were close from the way your walls were drawing him deeper.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Wanna feel you cum for me."

"Oh my God, Derek—"

"I know, baby. That's it. Gonna make you feel so good. Let it go, sweetheart."

The coil in your belly finally snapped. It jostled you into the pit of pleasure where your whole body convulsed in euphoria. Derek embraced you through it all, mollifying you with his voice, touch, and kisses, never once stopping until you were finally back down on earth.

"Where are you going?" you rushed out almost forlornly, raking the hem of Derek's shirt when he started to get up from the bed.

He smiled at your clingy display. "I'll be right back. Promise."

Derek returned less than two minutes later with a small towel in grasp. He cleaned you up carefully, his touch never a breadth too wide or an inch too deep as the towel swept over the skin of your inner thighs.

You extended your palm when he was done, and Derek accepted it happily with a kiss.

"It doesn't hurt," you said once you saw him fixated on your scraped knuckles. "You should see the other guy."

Derek brushed entirely past your lame attempt at a joke. "I did. I saw Vin and Al carrying Grader to the med ward."

"I know you don't approve of my methods—"

"If anyone had it coming, it's Grader. Especially after what he did to Paolo." The mental image of the boy's blackened eye made you shudder. "You care a lot about that kid."

It was an understatement rather than anything else. Everyone within ten feet could see how you regularly doted on the boy. Derek knew it was because Paolo reminded you of yourself; shoved into a life of violence too early in his youth, stripped of the childhood he so profoundly deserved. You never even hesitated to adopt the protector mantle for the boy, because in a lot of ways, it was something you wished someone would have done for you when you were a child.

"I know you used to have reservations about kids—" Derek continued, "—but I've seen you with Paolo. You're good with him."

"Right. Because I'm such a champ when it comes to being a good influence, right?" You rolled your eyes, skittering to sit on the edge of the bed and wrapping your body with the robe still on your back. Derek followed you silently. "I threatened a man at gunpoint in front of his eyes, Derek. You can't possibly say that witnessing something like that isn't gonna fuck him up for the rest of his life."

"Maybe not. But you're making this life less grueling for him, and that's something."

"I don't like where this conversation is going."

You stood up from the bed then, walking towards the windows of your room and popping them open to let the evening breeze in. When you spun around to face Derek on the bed, you had your arms folded defensively across your chest.

You were hiding again.

Two steps forward and three steps back.

That seemed to be the only thing Derek was capable of when it came to you.

"The incoming shipment," you began nonchalantly, as though Derek hadn't just made you orgasm until you could see stars mere minutes earlier. "What's your theory?"

Derek inhaled a deep breath before answering, "Gotta be something valuable if he goes to such lengths to keep it lowkey, even to the point of hiding it from you."

"More valuable than bombs and machine guns?"

"Precisely. Something that would make him a lot more money than those two combined."

"What? Like missiles?" Your eyes widened when realization bloomed in your head. "People. That's what you're insinuating, isn't it?"

"It makes sense, and it explains why you've never caught wind of any trafficking activity even to this day."

"They can't be using the depot, then. Too many witnesses. They must have another facility where they detain those people."

"Somewhere secluded but easy to control," Derek agreed. "And most likely, you know where it is."

"Me? What are you talking about?"

"Kreczmar profiles as a classic egotistical sociopath. It's not in his nature to do things quietly. He would want to boast, and you're the person in his life he'd want to do it to the most." Derek got up from the bed once he finished his statement. His stature somehow grew more officious as he stood in the middle of your room. "Think, sweetheart. You know the answer. You've had it all these years. You just didn't know that it was right there in front of your eyes."

Derek gauged every micro-expression zipping past your face. The wrinkle on the bridge of your nose was concentration, and the frenetic darting of your pupils was your mind flipping through the pages of memories about Aleksander Kreczmar. When your earnest gaze found his, Derek knew that it must have been the light bulb appearing right above your head.

"His guesthouse."

"Kreczmar has a guesthouse?"

"Well, a guesthouse might be a bit underwhelming. It's a freaking mansion that stands in the middle of at least two acres of land. He'd host parties there. Entertain important overseas guests or clients anytime they come by. He'd take me to the woods at the back of the property sometimes, and then he'd... well—" You cleared your throat and looked away. Derek didn't need to hear the rest of that sentence to know what you meant. "Secluded but easy to control. That's what you said, right?"

"Yeah." There was no guarantee that the guesthouse would end up being the place you were looking for, but Derek still deemed it necessary to pursue the lead. "We need to check the place out asap. Think you can set something up as a cover?"

"Don't need to, 'cause it must be your lucky day, Mister." The corner of your lips slanted upward, giving Derek a front row view of your pretty smile. He had to fight off the urge to march over there and taste the smile directly on his lips. "Kreczmar's throwing an exclusive party there in three weeks."

"He is?"

You nodded. "And it looks like you just got yourself an invitation."

Taglist is open. Leave a comment or send me an ask to be added!

Taglist: @citrusiove @kneelforloki @prentissim @bunbunbl0gs @lubunnii @alluring-andrayav @sammyrenae68 @burkayyy

[paarthurnax59]

"Always Her Hero"

(images are not mine)

Pairings: Clark Kent x OC!(Eventually), Steve Rogers x Sharon Carter, Steve Rogers x OC!(unrequited)

important notes: I got this idea from reading a Steve fic called, "Get/Got Back Together" by @altriestowrite broke my heart in two but couldn't stop reading!!!!😢😭. Won't say what actually happened, but all I wanted was for Steve to suffer. (Sorry, I'm a Capricorn. I thirst for vengeance) 😁. anyway, I go this idea with a fic for Clark Kent and wanted to write this. I also wanted to give her the credit for writing this two shot and for breaking our hearts. None of these characters are mine and all belong to their respective owners.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Steve being a dick and a horrible friend, insecure b*tchy girlfriend, heartbreak, unrequited love, romance,old friends, farm animals, Clark being a KING!, Bruce Wayne’s sass, Peter being a great friend, cheating, violence, action, crazy bestie going to prison and heartbreak. (OC is also depicted as Caucasian/white with bright blue eyes. There is a reason as you all read the story, so please give it a chance. 🙏🥺. I'm putting my heart and soul into this story.)

Introduction: Hope Parker worked for Tony Stark as a security analyst and forensic scientist at the tower, thanks to her cousin, Peter Parker. She had the ability to speak to animals and often spend more time with them than people. Over that time, she develop feelings for the handsome super-solider Named Steve Rogers. However, there was one drawback. His very insecure girlfriend, Sharon Carter. she was sent on a mission with the team for the first time. It went completely south and she was blamed. Sharon eventually broke up with Steve. He blamed Hope and stopped talking to her.

A month later, Steve Rogers asked her out of the blue. Her heart fluttered at it. It wasn't until Hope realized that his intentions were far less than noble or pure. He used her to get back to the person he really loved, Sharon Carter. He broke Hope's heart and her life completely fell apart. Losing everything, her job, friends and her home. All due to the actions made by one person hell bent on filling her life with lies, humiliation and pain.

Then, a day came when Hope ran into a man she hadn't seen in ten years. Clark Kent, her childhood best friend. He recently made a job transfer to the ‘Daily Bugle’ as a reporter and start a new life away from Metropolis. Over the course of the few weeks, Hope and Clark rekindle that friendship they had before she Smallville. She felt freer and happier as they strengthened their bond. After that, her life began to change drastically, leading to new friends, old friends, once in a lifetime opportunities, secrets and discovering who she is and a great destiny that will change both her and Clark's relationship forever.

Book 1

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

More to come...

please love, comment and reblog this post!!!

[still-a-morosexual-help]

I know MC themselves probably dont give a flying fuck about the more.... demonic acts the brothers have committed in the past or would commit in the near future, but do you think, at some point, some of the brothers themselves would start feeling guilt ridden about it? Like, some demons try and make (another) attempt at killing amd eating MC and when mammon stops them, they call him a hypocrite and remind him that he himself used to see humans as food. Would he have an "oh my god, what have I done" moment?

I don't think they'll care about what they've done to humans because in the game itself they're pretty unapologetic (Asmo who sleeps with Helene and cause a war doesn't give a fuck, Mammon and Beel who have no issue talking about eating humans and liking it, Lucifer and Belphie who have no problem trying to (and succeeding in killing) MC) but once they're closer to MC I think they'll care about what MC will think about them.

And to illustrate my point I just wrote a fic....

Did I ignore the multi-chapter wip I've been writing for over a year and the oneshot wip I've been writing for two weeks and churn this out in less than 2hours? .....ANYWAY

Unnamed GN! MC × Mammon

Tags: •Blood and Gore •Violence •Cannibalism •Fluff •Established Relationship

For the first time, his human sees what he truly is.

A creature of the night, of bared fangs dripping with the blood of the slain, of endless death and cosmic evil.

A creature finally brought to the light to face their judgment.

A creature that wishes to wail and weep at the realistic thought of finally losing them.

Comments?🥺 feed a starving fic writer? pls?

Tag List (if you want to be added like this -> post. If you want to be removed lemme know);

@ashplsstfu @kadythethief @aspiring--cryptid @wanderwelle @millk-caramell @heinlqi @sansarawheelvictim @deanobsession @nagitokomaeda-the69th @knight-clover @atlas-like-the-book @emmajustemmaaa @swagstells @mcx7demonbros @believemeimeverywhere @weareparanoidcynicalpeople @jolynetodd @lunaslemon @iameliseposts @silverinnia @alexeizzo @obervation-subject-753 @niacks @naughtybodypillow @juwuuzuo-blog @baby-jeonginnie @oldghostartist @ask-angel0 @yourimaginaryfriiendd @whatamidoing89 @mammonismyfirstman @trinket-n-geode @kuro-personal @dreanadolie @urmomondeez @michyrants @pandapantslovesyou @kawaiiartsstuffowo @novanight87 @joxther @oooowl @twst-shrimpy @pajamasatepb @saccharineconcinnity @yourboyhack @itzblazekun @medicinalkiwis @heavenly-greed

@obeymeharemowner @hecatesflames @stale-cheetos-and-fragile-egos @mammondollface @mozzarellatelevision @timetomakeanewwish @sidgethegamer @butterflywaffle @val-monny

[ruushes]

Would love to hear your Zevran thoughts <3

original and ultimate babygirl 🥺

first impression: so i actually knew he was gay romanceable before starting origins and went in with the intention of gay romancing him pretty much solely bc i thought it was cool you could be gay in a video game. i didn't really know much else about him going into it, so his intro was like, holy shit i'm in love with him 😂😂 and i only liked him more and more as the game went on, I’ll admit I took a lot of his humor and bravado at face value at first and the depth of character that unfolded was unexpected and really cool

impression now: it might seem like i love him a normal and reasonable amount given that i don't draw or post about him that often but that's just bc the more i like something the less and less i talk about it out of embarrassment 😅

favorite moment: so so so hard to choose 😭😭 maybe the dialogue after you kill taliesin if you push him to make the decision of what he'll do next himself:

cautiously testing unfamiliar agency.... the look for validation... 🥺

idea for a story: gestures vaguely at the complete origins novelization and chronicle of whatever weird thing he and ailill have going on that exists perfectly in my mind and materially in unconnected 500-word scraps of dialogue that don't even amount to anything you could call a wip 🤦‍♂️i think the last thing i worked on was a bit about how on the morning after zev's recruited he has another chance to finish the assassination and kind of commits to the idea of staying instead

unpopular opinion: i think understandably and naturally people tend to focus on positives when making fan material (i do it too like 90% of my sketches are cutesy shipping art lol) but i'd also like to see more of him being flawed? like i feel like a big part of the appeal of him as a character is the 'healing from trauma and starting anew' theme, and healing is so difficult and messy and nonlinear, not something that gets resolved by falling in love over the course of like nine months, you know? but i don't really fault people for not exploring that, it's just something i'd be interested to see more of (':

favorite relationship: zevwarden naturally😌 especially in the context of wardens with a similar desire to die, where they can sort of figure out how to want to live again together

favorite headcanon: i've been poking around in the toolset and looking at the differences between the m and f romances and i think there's a case to be made for a reading where there's an element of internalized homophobia and/or trauma impacting how he looks at relationships with men that goes beyond generally preferring women. his gendered dialog with men tends to be more physical than emotional, there are instances where suggestive gendered dialog alludes to violence with m wardens and not f, he makes some skeptical comments abt the idea of being in a relationship with a man. i don't have evidence at hand and i certainly don't think everyone Should think this way or anything, i just find it interesting to think about preferences and how they can be impacted by experience in the context of being bi, and how it could both complicate and enrich an mwarden relationship

[jellybeanium124]

xxx

I'm angry in this one btw. real properly angry. I don't wanna talk about this because I know some of y'all are thiiiiis close to blocking me for not falling in line and being a good little jew and repeating the slogans thoughtlessly, but I'm so mad and scared and nobody cares at all and I wanna shut up about it so I don't lose all my goyische friends but I can't I just can't.

hm maybe people are being arrested because there is some violence and this is terrifying jewish students?? and I think the author of this article is way too kind to these students. they hail hamas as heroes. they don't think the innocent civilian hostages should be released for the crime of being israeli. they champion themselves as being antiracist when ANTISEMITISM IS AN ETHNIC PREJUDICE YOU DUMB FUCKING CHAZERS!!!

jews are terrified.

rabbis are telling us to stay home.

whenever there's an "assembly" on the uni I live by, I'm terrified it'll turn violent. I'm terrified they'll burn down or deface the clearly labelled building where the jewish org lives.

I stopped wearing my magen david because I'm terrified of my peers, my peers who are supposed to be inclusive and love everyone regardless of ethnicity, seeing that I'm jewish and harassing me or worse.

the average college campus is less safe for jews than it has been in decades.

the optics of your movement are shit. you're infested with jew haters, and no one seems to care!! no goy cares, because you all care more about hating israel than not hating jews. and hating israel turns into hating jews so, so quickly. I want palestine to be a free nation. I want this war to end. but none of you understand that as long as hamas exists peace cannot happen. none of you understand that if you hate israelis you're a fucking antisemite lol sorry. if you want every israeli dead, you want half the world's jews dead. if you don't think that makes you an antisemite, lemme give you another example. let's say you want all black americans dead (not all black people are american, in fact, less than half the world's black population are in america). are you racist? YES. same fucking logic here.

saw a video the other day where some dumbfuck was like "have you considered that all hamas knows is oppression and hatred? 🥺" THESE ARE GROWN ADULTS!! YOU RACIST FUCKING INFANTILIZING FUCKING IDIOT!! THEY ARE GROWN ADULT HUMANS AND YOU ARE TREATING THEM LIKE BABIES AND CLAIM TO BE ANTIRACIST??? if you see POC as too innocent to be bad, then you are falling for the noble savage stereotype all over again. has that stereotype historically been attributed to arab people? no. but it definitely fucking is now with the way y'all think rape and terrorism is excusable.

none of you fucking idiots see anyone involved as full humans because none of you have a goddamn piece in it. you see palestinians as innocent babies who could never rape or hurt anyone, and you see israelis as demons to be exterminated. you're racist, you're hateful, you're not helping anything, and I hope you will one day be so, so ashamed of the fear you've instilled in jews worldwide while seeing them as genociding monsters regardless of ties to israel or anything, as well as the myopic infantilizing racist way you view arab people.

and one last thing: "FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA" IS ANTISEMITIC. IT'S A SLOGAN ENDORSED BY HAMAS. IF YOU ARE CHANTING THAT OVER AND OVER AND OVER GUESS WHAT YOU'RE HAVING AN ANTISEMITIC PROTEST, SORRY. you can't reclaim that slogan, it is calling for the destruction of israel, which will lead to jewish genocide, or just a massive jewish refugee crisis if they're lucky and hamas doesn't succeed in their goal of exterminating the jews.

[outpost51]

The 51 Post

This week sucked a whole lot actually (I started this draft on Tuesday, and I haven't touched it until 5pm Sunday) but I read a lot of pretty good shit so I think it balances.

Contents:

Things You Might Have Missed

This Week's Jams

WIP Breakdowns

From the Skwad

Around the 'Blr

Things You Might Have Missed

get on my taglists for WIP updates, 51 post, tag games, and ask events!

BRHP: Chapter 15 posted; Talus is having a Bad Time.

I stabbed Adrien real good

BRHP: Chapter 16 posted; baby's first fight pit, and a family secret is revealed.

Not new, but I dug up Adrift and The Sky, The Stars, and Me so enjoy the spooky space shorts.

See more entries for SSSC 006 below, mine is here: i'll take everything.

Growing Pains: the 6th entry into the Lighthouse in the Fog shorts; our new Keeper is definitely adjusting so well to her new life.

I'm starting to release chapters of Unlikely Adventures on tumblr now!

This Week's Jams

stargazing || power-haus, solarays [spotify/youtube]

up down || boy epic [spotify/youtube]

gasoline || chymes [spotify/youtube]

dangerous || new medicine [spotify/youtube]

she went that way || missy [spotify/youtube]

illuminated || hurts [spotify/youtube]

WIP Breakdowns

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

HI YOU GET TO MEET KADMOS IN CHAPTER 17 AND [SPOILERS] IN CHAPTER 18 I'M REALLY EXCITED

Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself

zadimus needs to stop it. that is all

Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey

you know what's fun to write? drug/dream sequences. you know what's even more fun? writing one for a detective in a flashy nightclub with murder on her mind

Stellar Parallax

saren is about to go do a Very Kill and jaen is So Excited About It. also wrex. but mostly violence

Lighthouse in the Fog

7th short will be coming out some time tonight, @thetrashbagswasteland picked some yummy prompt words

In the Works

y'all 🥺💕 thank you i needed a bunch of open-ended prompts to get the brain noodles out so i can hopefully not burn out on the main wips. i've still got the same backlog otherwise lmao

From the Skwad

IMPORTANT @fenrir-kin fell prey to the hellsite shenaniganuke, and is currently @vikingfenharel until it (hopefully) gets sorted.

Surprise Challenge 006 wrapped up with (mine's above): Just Take My Hand by @sparatus, Expanding the Vocabulary by @teamdilf, and The Storm Between Us by @thetrashbagswasteland

@equusgirl is going bananas with Sapphic Summer: i know with me, you'll get a little bit addicted, One Night, and will my hands ever be clean?

@sparatus also dropped chapter 1 & chapter 2 of Make Less the Depth of Grief and were it not for the laws of this land, i would have strangled him (affectionate) but also this tasty oneshot of Nautilea being so hot

@teamdilf HOW. New chapter of Alice's Adventures in Andromeda, another chapter of The In-Laws and the Grandparents, and another chapter in A Man of Many Talents. I'm calling witchcraft

@asher-orion-writes gave us this lovely oneshot set in Cardinal Sins and I'm??? yes

@princess-prawn dropped a new chapter of Next of Kin YESSS

@regalbois is writing his mlm war stories again and i'm vibrating please go read The Earth Abides

@commander-krios wrote more Dash/Leo (thank u for my life) and New Beginnings (thank u for TWO life wow)

Around the 'Blr

Art Claims are still going on for WIP Big Bang!!

@writernopal dropped character profiles for Magdalene and Sartor so this is your hint to get on the taglist for AASOAF 3

@tabswrites posted chapter 3 of Silver Sentinels and gave me life thank you, more please

@vacantgodling wrote this short for Lukewarm Rejection and we have no choice but to stan Trisha

@liv-is blessed writeblr with this snippet from Demigods i am eating it up

@void-botanist gave us this short for Another Ocean's Moon with LORE hidden in the tags hello

have you SEEN The Poster by @artdecosupernova-writing omg

@elshells dropped chapter 12 of Agent Ace YES congrats on the timeline choreography, bud!

wake up babes new Nameless Song short just dropped from @blind-the-winds

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Outpost Updates Taglist: @tabswrites @writernopal @freedominique @asher-orion-writes @liv-is @starknstarwars @captain-kraken

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

[chiss-ticism]

hiiiii can i ask more about percy's pack? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 what's the group dynamic like, what do they love and hate most about each other? or anything else you wanna share about them! i wish to perc(y)eive

Oh, yeah, of course! tysm for taking an interest 😭

A Not-So-Brief Introduction to the Pack :)

Sir Percival [Ventrue Antitribu] [Templar] [Pack Member]

Art beautifully crafted by @/belthegore - Survivor of the Week of Nightmares, Percival ["Percy" to friends and allies] is feverishly devoted to seeing the Sword of Caine's goals brought to fruition - his near death experience at the proverbial hands of the Antediluvian in conjunction with ~general~ Sabbat propaganda frying his brain in that regard. - He's principled in the sense that he's dedicated to Dominique Touraine's philosophy of 'Absolute freedom demands absolute responsibility.'. The Sabbat, in his eyes, are never going to achieve their goals if everyone is letting their base/Beast's desires control their every whim. There's a time and a place for indulging in such things and it isn't while they're actively fighting a war. - Doesn't necessarily understand the wanton violence some of the sects members engage in but is far from a stranger to violence himself. - Holding every Cainite in the highest of regards - seeing them as brothers, sisters, and siblings in Caine, he will willingly put his life on the line for any of them or even die for them if the situation calls for it [NOTABLY DOES NOT INCLUDE: Camarilla, Tremere, Giovanni, Setites, or any of the others on the Sabbat's laundry list of enemies]. More fanaticism. yadda yadda. - Adamant about sticking to preferred titles/epithets. "His excellency" for the Archbishop, "Grand Inquisitor/Reverend Sister" for the Grand Inquisitor, "The Dark Father" exclusively for Caine, so on so forth. - Kind.

Judith Margolis [Brujah Antitribu] [Ductus] [Black Hand]

- Also referred to as "Judy", "Moody Judy", or "M.J." - A member of the Black Hand. - A scholar of the Convention of Thorns even before she defected, Judy had always been Sabbat sympathetic - even during her nights of holding fairly decent sway within her domains' local Anarch Movement on account of her Bloodline and how much of a vocal proponent of direct action she was. Convinced that the Anarch Movement wasn't doing all it could to combat the Camarilla, she took the fight directly to them: finding herself being bloodhunted out of town for having made attempts on the Brujah and Ventrue Primogen's lives. She diablerized the Brujah Primogen directly, but the Ventrue got away one haven and a handful of bodyguards shorter. - - The Brujah was probably a set-up: having taken advantage of their good will/willingness to hear out members of the clan. Have a trusted insider set up a meeting, go in their place, profit. Conspirators didn't know she was planning on diablerizing them - maybe Final Death'ing to make a point but not diablerie. They balk at the idea, turn on her, and report the crime to one another. The Ventrue would've probably been an attempt to maximize the damage on the way out of town, eventually ending up as a failed break-in attempt that resulted in the haven getting torched but not the Primogen themselves - I rather like the idea that, during modern nights, she ingratiates herself with the local Anarch communities and scouts them out for potential recruits when such a thing is feasible/allowed - She's just as focused on taking out the Camarilla as Percy is, though tangibly less… [gestures vaguely at how willing Percy is to take one for the team]. - Dresses like evil Jesse Pinkman. Baggy pants, beanies, and hoodies galore. All variations of red and black - 5'5'' - Brown hair, dark brown eyes - Physically Late 20s, early 30s

Ida Obertus [Former Revenant, Tzimisce] [Pack Priest] [Children of the Dracon - scholarly wing (Akoimetai)]

- Shortest member of the pack at a solid 5'2'' - Born and Embraced in Montreal - She and Percy are both on the Path of Honorable Accord - Former Revenant, upon being Embraced she kept the Revenant Weakness [OCD] in addition to the regular clan weakness. - While she's perfectly capable of defending herself or reveling in sanguine succor if the situation calls for it, Ida is probably the only member of the pack that isn't on a martial bent. She prefers the time she gets to spend locked away with ancient tomes or helping prep for the Sword of Caine's festivals to, say, engaging in War Parties or the Wild Hunt. - Barring Noddism, of which she and Luther have [good naturedly] debated one another about the semantics of for hours on end, her expertise in life veered toward [supernatural] quirks of the blood: Ghouls, Revenants, trying to figure out what on earth a changeling is and why their blood is allegedly fucked up when they aren't visibly distinguishable in the slightest from everyone else, etc. etc. It would've been to help with the family's whole [gesturing vaguely at usurping humanity] even if she doesn't care about any of that now. - She would love to get her hands on a Lupine's corpse for study but, for a plethora of reasons, it's extremely Unlikely. The handful of times the pack has been Dog tagging they trend towards leaving the damnable creature where they found it - Ida, without fail, asking a one (1) time if she can bring it back to the haven. M.J., without fail, will pretend to humor the idea and put a pin in the conversation with a resounding "No." - She's significantly younger than Luther in age, but also lower than him in Generation [9th]. Both of them are ancillae. - She shut off her nerves via Vicissitude. Pain tolerance is through the roof - She has a personal "Grand Library" in her Montreal haven that she's left in the care of some of her former mortal family. While she keeps the volume entrusted to her from the Library of the Forgotten with her at all times, any books of note she can't cart around with her from domain to domain she sends back to them. - She has a singular Obertus revenant that she brings w/ her from domain to domain. He mostly tend to the haven's cleanliness (barring her own room which she insists upon doing herself) and aiding her in her studies. - - A distant cousin of hers, his name is Colin. - - Percy is polite but noticeably more distant than he is with other Cainites, Luther refuses to engage with him on grounds of his Path, and M.J. orders him around like a Pack Member with none of the benefits. - She knows [Latin, Byzantine Greek (For studying Constantinople), and French (She's from Montreal)] - She's friends with @/Styxnbones' Peona. Montreal Tzimisce buddies :) - She has Eidetic Memory, lending to her exceptionally high stats in the Knowledge Category (aided by the Grand Library she owns)

Ritae Ida Knows: - All 13 Auctoritas Ritae - Ignobilis Ritae: [Allegiance, Acceptance, Contrition, Stealth, and one she's developed for the Pack to use] I don't know if you can tell, but Ida is the one currently giving me brain worms :)

Luther 😎 [Lasombra] [Pack Member] [Caine's Goofiest Goober]

- Noddist scholar. Loves Caine^2 & took part of a now-forgotten ritus that marked his forehead with the Mark of Caine. Now has a "twisted form of true faith" from it. He can essentially use Noddist symbols to scare other vampires away :) - As mentioned, devout noddist now. He initially clung to the stories of Caine willingly forsaking the will of God and the Heavenly Host as comforting and growing to sympathize with the tragedy of the First City. He has these theories about Enoch being buried somewhere in the ocean, having been left there without hope of reclaiming it properly after the flood & wants to go looking but lacks support, time, and wet-suit. The Lasombra Antediluvian's vitae vaguely suggesting that he and some of his clanmates spend a little time with the sea/Mediterranean certainly doesn't help dissuade him from his dreams. - He loves a good practical joke, though, odds are that only he ever really finds them more than moderately amusing. Tough crowd the Sword of Caine are. I've likened him to Bugs Bunny before. - A cold draft always follows him wherever he goes. - Wears his sunglasses at night [He may look like a dork but he does have a valid reason to be wearing them :)] - He puts on a front of just being a Silly Little Guy who doesn't take anything seriously save for his pack and other ritae related to Caine himself. - Do not let him drive. - [he has more Tragedy in his backstory but it's not overly relevant atm :)]

Your Questions! :D

What's the group dynamic like?

-It didn't cross my mind when I was initially slotting puzzle pieces together for Ida, but Percy's bloodline ~generally~ started having issues w/ the Tzimisce as a direct result of his Methuselah diablerizing one in Constantinople. It's a complicated mess of pack dynamics/sins of the father/personal philosophies but I think Ida being a Dracon & sharing their general outlook/reverence for the time|domain: --Being the quieter members of their pack, they enjoy one another's company now-a-nights [I find the mental image of them reading their own niche books in the same room of the communal haven to be a nice one.] but those first few months of knowing one another were capital T tense. Ida, through other Akoimetai as study of Constantinople's vampiric history is ~tentatively~ a side hobby of hers compared to her other (k)nightly duties, was made aware of the Circumstances regarding the Methuselah and his bloodlines' general disposition toward the clan. The stress of the Week of Nightmares and the wounds therein would've been still been fresh for Percy as well. --Ida would prefer that the main clan -and everyone who abides by their rulings- would carefully dissect every choice they make and refrain from haphazardly damning the rest of the clan even further (for Percy it'd be dragging the whole sect down w/ them) further than they already are, playing devils advocate like the Children are want to do: make them consider the weight of their actions and consider the responsibility that intrinsically comes with as much sway as they do. Percy, on the other hand, is like. Yeah… Excellent points to make - we don't always have the luxury of deliberation, though. [this would've been less of a point of contention during the Gehenna War, mind, but she's probably started up again now that things have tentatively cooled down a bit.] --Percy + Ida: wanting the best for Cainites 'everywhere'

- ignoring the fact that Judy has considered hitting him with a car before, the pack wouldn't really be the same without Luther. 1 of the reasons he keeps up his funny little guy routine is that he recognizes that they'd all burn out without a little brevity in their unlives - being as overly focused on their individual goals as they are in a world where the Sword of Caine is in a particularly fragile state. He's happy to provide laughs (or someone to be frustrated with) if it keeps them from teetering on the edge.

- As the Pack Priest - and one who takes confession at that - Ida is probably the Cainite they confide in the most. Few secrets of personal relevance being kept between them (faction stuff is another story), she's the person they'd go to for, say, interpersonal advice or a friend to alleviate their mental woes with.

- Percy & Judy are on the war path, but their respective duties tend to take them away from the Pack for long bouts of time :(. Keeping tabs on one another isn't the easiest thing in the world either

What do they love most about each other?

They're all potently driven in their chosen fields of expertise, being able to talk about their interests for hours on end and provide one another with valuable insight they might've missed. Percy & Judy's combat practice, for example, can be expanded upon by Ida's occult knowledge when they're doggtagging. Luther [through adherence to the faith] & Ida [through being as well-read as she is] provide one another with new perspectives on Noddism anytime they talk about it, etc. etc.

What do they hate most about each other?

- That Percy and Judy are taken away so often [Ida never comments on it but it certainly doesn't feel Good when it happens]

- Judy's taste in music [Percy & Ida do not understand how people listen to Industrial metal. She introduced Luther to the Sisters of Mercy so he doesn't care all that much]

- Percy's staunch adherence to formalities. [Judy has asked him time and time again to just call her by her name]

- That Judy seems to place very little emphasis on the more secular aspects of the sect. [Luther -> Judy. She does believe in Caine, but she mostly joined up for a better chance at dealing with the Camarilla properly]

[slutforstabbings-archive]

cowboy!corey hcs... what u got?

Sorry for taking a week on this 😅 without further ado ~

pre-accident:

Corey grows up watching old westerns, Little House on the Prairie, The Waltons, etc because Joan doesn't want him watching any of that raunchy, degenerate current TV, it might give him ideas about girls and a girl could take him away from her.

Little does she know he's still getting ideas about leaving. Go west, young man! Haven't you been told? California's full of whiskey, women, and gold 🤩 Corey heavily feels his father's absence, so the cowboys and farmers on TV become his Daddy. That's what A Man is. That's what Corey should be, would be if his fucking mother would lay off. That's what would make his father proud, if he had lived, the kind of boy he would've raised Corey to be, Joan be damned.

As he gets into his teens, he gets more interested in science and math in school and science fiction in media. Joan allows him Star Wars and Star Trek. He puts the cowboy thing to bed and decides to become an engineer and he works really hard junior and senior year of high school and in his two years at the community college.

But then the accident ruins that plan, and his daydreams find their way back to farms and rodeos and shoot outs. Except Corey always used to picture himself as the US Marshall. Now he imagines himself as the bank robber or the cattle rustler. Less Lone Ranger, more Jesse James.

post-accident, pre-Michael/no Michael:

Maybe in a universe where he gets away before he meets Laurie and Allyson and Michael, he packs a backpack full of clothes, rolls up a big wad of cash he's been hoarding and leaves in the middle of the night while Joan and Ronald are asleep. He takes a bus to Chicago and then a train to Montana or Colorado or Wyoming.

Maybe he gets a job at a horse stable. He doesn't know anything about horses, he's never even seen one in person before. But he mucks stalls and whatever other grunt work they give him and he learns how to ride after his shift is over. He's good with horses, he gets horses. Big, scary, powerful animals that are afraid of everything. They're fascinating.

Turns out he's got a knack for breaking horses that buck of that habit, so someone at work is like why don't you try this amateur bronc riding competition that's coming up? It's a pretty different skill but Corey's okay at it. It only takes him a couple of events to make it the full 8 seconds. The day he makes it, he's wearing a new hat. That's his lucky hat from then on, and it never lets him down.

post-Michael:

If Allyson left with him when he called and said 'we need to leave' I could totally see her going country with him. She would look so cute too, wow 🥺. But I think her presence would keep Corey more grounded and more normal, so I don't think his trajectory in this situation would be that much different.

However, survivor!Corey or a Corey that diverges from canon later than the phone call isn't gonna be mucking any fucking horse stalls, and he rides bulls, not broncs. The kind of targeted fury that drove his murder spree is gone, but he's still pissed the fuck off, he loves violence, and he hates himself.

He signs up for an amateur bull riding competition. They tell him he should practice on the mechanical first but he doesn't give a shit. He makes it the 8 seconds easily. When they give him his prize he just stands there glowering.

But the glower doesn't mean he doesn't like the attention. Corey loves the attention.

If this Corey isn't on the run from the cops, he's going pro, and he's like, a wrestling heel but for the rodeo. He wears all black, he always looks pissed, he never no scores - he wishes you had to stay on the bull for 10 seconds or 12 or 16. Some of the other cowboys think all the hype around him is blown out of proportion, but the ones who've actually spent any time with him, the ones who've seen his darkened eyes and eerie stillness as he mounts the bull before the gate opens, they know he's a scary motherfucker.

If he IS on the run from the law he's not going pro but I don't think he can stay away from the amateur competitions. He just registers with a fake name, wears a bandana over his nose and mouth like a bandit. It's easy money and it helps him get the violent impulses out.

@cordelium @toxicanonymity @ethanhoewke @heartrot666 @mutlifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @rebel-blue @wolvesandvampires

[your-nanas-house]

i meant to ask yesterday for jeremiah's day, but if you feel inspired to do so, the sentence prompts you posted a while ago for post-spray jeremiah live rent free in my mind, and i'd love to see what you could come up with for the smut ones of "behave" and/or "you look so good with my hand around your throat, pet" 🥺 take your time, of course, and feel free to ignore this if neither of them spark joy !! i hope you're having a good day 💞

Sure! 😁 It's been a while since someone asked me a request with my prompts 😂 I hope you like it and if you want me to rewrite it, just tell me and I'll do it ! Hope you have a good day too.💕

Jeremiah's pet

Pairing: Yandere!Jeremiah Valeska X Reader

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, slightly smut, Jeremiah

Words: 806

Summary: "Behave" and "You look so good with my hand around your throat, pet" Prompts list.

Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

.....................................................................................

The first day they had woken up there, after a vague recollection of what they had been doing previously and then only a blurry image in their minds of the cause that had brought them to what appeared to be a dungeon room: dark, humid, with no windows or ways to go out of there expect from the door that seemed closed but which couldn't be opened by them anyway since they had found themselves tied to a chair with their heads spinning and a sharp pain at their temples. They had felt more confused instead of frightened given their dazed situation that day; the fear came later when the door opened and they were taken out of there, having seen in a blur only a white figure dressed in purple with a smile on what appeared to be a face but they could not see exactly who it was or what it was since they passed out shortly after.

The second time they woke up was three days later that day, they found out later from the woman who came into the bedroom where they were, dressed in a red and black striped cape, strange makeup on her face and a strange hairstyle too, she also had a voice that was definitely annoying for someone who had just woken up and wanted silence because of the headache they had, that woman explained everything that needed to be done and what were the plans to follow the orders correctly of what she called her Boss.

She had not stopped talking during the whole time she was taking care of them, helping them up and taking care of the bath, washing them and putting on them new and clean clothes suitable for the dinner that was to take place at 8 p.m. that same evening.

It had been so long since that day, since that dinner spent with the white figure whom they had first seen before passing out, finding out who he was and putting a name to the pale, manic face belonging to Jeremiah Valeska; that same evening they learned their new nickname and the way the man, who had taken such a large and unhealthy interest in them, wanted them to behave.

From that day on they were no longer free but had become Jeremiah's pet, living what was hell before but that became normality as soon as they began to accept the various rules they absolutely had to follow and after learning the things the pale man liked.

The feeling of lack however never went away, they felt empty inside despite the fact that they lacked practically nothing thanks to that psychopath who kept them with him; unfortunately there were moments of lucidity still that had to be punished, where in those moments the pet tried to escape or finish things as best they could by managing to use Jeremiah's weaknesses that they had learned.

Fortunately for the engineer or ex-engineer everything managed to go back to the way it was before with the afflicted punishment which happened more or less always in the same way: he would talk in a long monologue complaining about how well his pet had started to behaved, how they were earning his trust but they always had to ruin everything and other things like reminding them to behave and going more physical..when necessary.

One thing he had learned about physical contact with his pet was that violence didn't work, they just got more frightened and didn't trust him anymore, trying to stay away or shaking when he came near, thing that he didn't liked very much even if it was cute in his own view but it was harmful to the health of his darling and so it shouldn't be done anymore. One thing that he had discovered to work and that he personally liked best was to make it all more erotic, mainly earning him the pleasure and giving it to his pet only if they would behave, often ending up having them kneeling between his thighs sucking his cock or fucking them against the wall always keeping a hand around their throat leaving a mark to make them remember what happened when they misbehaved.

Jeremiah always gave them compliments and attention, managing that way to put into their heads the two phrases he used most often in those situations "behave" and "you look so good with my hand around your throat, pet" manipulating them often to make them feel guilty and get back to the way he wanted them to be: obedient to him, with total devotion and love for him, all their time spent thinking of him and only him, affection returned and his desires, even just for company, reciprocated.

They had become his pet and were forced to act as it.

Taglist:

@gabile18

@mrsfullbuster500

@trainer--taylor

@elizamalfoyy

@eovjjj

@animefan3223

@jeremiah-va1eska

@gothamchic16

@rabbiteggz

@dieg0brandos-wife

@rottenecstasy

@lazyexuseforausername

[borathae]

POWERBANK

they are soo cute, he is right there are days where ur battery is low, u aint sad or mad just on low battery/battery saving mood and i just sleep it off

going for a bath with my lovely toaster as we speak

IN YOUR ARMS

OUR NOODLE BOI IS A STRONG BOI THE STRONGEST FOR NOT GIVING IN, IM SOO PROUD OF HIM

im gonna chose violence today for myself and read darker times

it has only started and she hurt her wrists :(

It has been years since he last witnessed something like this, thats soo great to know

You get a panic attack because of a stupid fucking noise. You feel fucking pathetic.  panic attack from phobias or fear be so stupid but hurts nevertheless ugh

You’re too embarrassed to face him. :( :( :(

You don’t have to be strong tonight. He’s got you and he always will. the way they take care of each other just them 😭😭

reading them back to back was emotional

WET DREAM LETS SWITCH IT UP YEEHAW

i have no idea how many times i have read this but it still doesnt make it any less hot, if anything it gets hotter AAAAH you got me sweating in normal room temp

THE ENGAGEMENT RING OH MY GOD *moans idk but it got hotter

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll just act surprised.” i love his noodle ass please

MAKE YOU MINE

there were three other couples too, but those weren’t of importance in this story. she basically called everyone irrelevant lol my target isnt you, leave 💀💀

“Louder”, you order, wrapping your hand around his throat to squeeze down on his veins. AAAH MOMMY I WILL BE LOUD DONT WORRY HOLY FUCK

god damnit i cant even say jungkook get in line i loved her aura before you 😭😭😭

IN PINK SOFT HOODIE WHICH HER SLEEP DRESS I REPEAT MOMMY'S PINK SOFT HOODIE boi got so lucky (pun intended)

Holy fuck, you do. Jungkook feels like passing out at the realisation. OH GOD SUCH A CUTIE PIE BUNNY IM GONNA BITE HIM

“The wall? Oh no wait, sex dumb moment.” reminds me of the elaborate please im having a dumb boy moment he is soo noodle im gonna cry

can i eat him just a lil bite cuz WHY IS HE SO CUTE AAH

Each time you call him noodle I die because HE IS SUCH A NOODLE AND CUTE AND I CRY PLEASE HE IS SO !!! I LOVE HIM

lmaooa you taking yourself on an emotional rollercoaster again ahahah I love how you went from "aah cuties" to jumping ropes with your tears TO BEING THIRSTY to crying cause he is so cute HAHAHAH

First of all, keep the thirst for her going hahhahha I love how you're more feral for her than Kook ahhaha 🤪

Thank you so much for your asks, I genuinely have such a good time reading them ahhaha 🥺😔💜

[skzdarlings]

I looooooooved part 9 thank you so much for that chapter!!!! Literally crying because they FINALLY said „I love you“ oh good heavens I’ve been WAITING for that moment 😭😭 and it was so perfectly timed, I absolutely fucking loved it. The first half of the chapter got me insanely anxious and fearing that either Felix would get harmed in his mysterious mission, or the father found out about everything. I mean….. when Felix hesitated to beating the protagonist, I think my heart stopped lol. But the way you wrote that her father would never understand love, but he understands violence and why somebody would refrain from it…. THAT IS WHAT I CALL GOOD AND PLAUSIBLE CHARACTER WRITING!!!! SO GOOD!!!!! YES!!!!! Though there was less smut in this part, it was still delicious as always 😏 Plus Seungmin and Jeongin are just too pure for this world.🥹 I‘m opening a Jisung-Seungmin-Jeongin-Fanclub ASAP. It’s crazy how I came to love every single damn character in this story, except for…. Yeah, you know I guess. I also loved learning more about Felix‘ backstory. Crossing my fingers that Chris is not dead 🥺 but yeah it’s very plausible. Long story short, you never fail to deliver and I am sooooooo looking forward to the last part!!! 🥰 Till then, Stan Jisung and Felix and have a nice day ❤️❤️❤️

-V

ahhhh oh my gosh once more i got this message while i was on a walk and stopped to sit and read it hahaha

thank you for your super thoughtful comments!! i appreciate them so much and look forward to reading them. also i am glad you have been enjoying all the buddies in the story hehe i love them all too.

thank you so much for reading and messaging, i appreciate it so much! i am very invigorated to go finish writing the last part hehe. i hope you will enjoy it!

<333

[magnoliamyrrh]

When it comes to prison abolition I wish people would focus on specific crimes or types of crimes instead of this binary approach. There seems to be no space for nuance in western leftist thought these days, you have to go all the way in one go or it isn't worth doing.

Okay the current system isn't perfect but it's better than letting pedos, rapists and sex traffickers get away with continuing to abuse women and girls. Domestic violence too, there's just so many areas where justice already doesn't exist for victims. Until abolitionists can provide a good answer for those crimes they should admit that their theory doesn't yet work in every scenario.

Let's go back to focusing on drugs, theft and other crimes against corporations, the imprisonment of those suffering from severe mental illnesses and general anti social behaviour. Crimes where imprisonment does unjustly impact people's lives and we do already have noncustodial solutions we can implement.

"there seems to be no space for nuance in western leftits though" youre certainly right abt that and its annoying as all hell. there are prison reformers who hold more nuance on this generally, but many prison abolitionists act like they're almost traitors for not being fully on board

and it bothers me that the keep treating this part of the issue as some sort of annoyance, thing we can think abt afterwards, or minor issue. or on the other side they wanna treat rapists the same way theyd treat some poor person who stole food,,,,,,like no, all of these things are actually incredibly common, and sadism and predatory actions are not same at all as many crimes. as far as im concerned theyre much less explicable than even many cases of murder and i will 100% vouch for the reform of a murderer than a rapist, particularly a pedo. and my conclusion frankly is i dont think these ppl rly care abt the saftey of children, girls, or women much

like, as you said. ill admit any day the system is fucked too. and yes the system is the consequence in america of colonialism and slavery, and in many parts of the world the prison system implemented by imperialists has been a tool of opression. and yes the system puts at a disadvantage and targets certain kinds of people and for certain kinds of offenses it makes no damn sense. like i think were all on board with this part of things??? and clearly countries like the semi-socialist northern euro ones have shown that better, more humaine systems can be implemented. im all on board for reform when it comes to 98% types of offenses, and generally i think prison reformists make very good, grounded points which seem feasible. and they suggest changes which we may actually see in our lifetimes

but then prison abolitions want to take it to such...... levels that it stops making sense. to an extent i get it, like i definitely get wanting to abolish the system and implement something new, the issue is that that "something new" makes little sense when you hear them speak. because they define annny form of incarceration or being restricted in movement as prison essentially, and we must get rid of that. so, frankly, by their own logic i dont even know if they could force rapists and pedophiles into """"recovery programs""" for any period of time - maybe theyd just let them go immediately and theyd have to voluntarly show up our of their own good will 🥺 (im sure thats gonna happen) - because anything else would be taking away their bodily autonomy.. ...really, truly, even though these ppl call themselves leftists this is such a ??? western individualistic opinion to hold?? like putting individual bodily autonomy and "rights" in any damn case, no matter how dangerous, above the wellbeing of society at large strikes me v v much as western individulism taken to an extreme

.. they dont have answers. they just dont. its either deflection, minimizing the issue, acting like youre the crazy one for asking, or some completely unrealistic bullshit abt making these men see the light - as if they dont already understand they should rape or beat women and children - or reintegrating them into the same communities that they traumatized. prison abolitionists wont admit that they have no real damn solution because, like western leftits in general in most cases, they a)dont actually care abt feminism b)dont have a fully understanding of what theyre talking about and are just screaming slogans and saying what sounds good to be right and woke and make themselves feel good and enlightened c)are allergic to actual nuance and discussion or being challenged

it also pisses me off too because ive seen a lot of them pull that woke version of noble savage shit, in which they pretend like the nonwestern world or the world pre-colonialization was this lovely perfect place with no issues no violence and everyone sat in a field and braided flowers in each others hair and talked abt their feelings. or something. when in fact, the concept of punishment for certain things has Definitely existed pre colonialization??? for gods sake even chimps, apes, several other animals have a concept of "actions have consequences" and they punish, either physically or through social exile, members of their species who have crossed a line. Several native american tribes had quite physically harsh and borderline torturous forms of physical punishment for what they deemed to be crimes, or would exile ppl (which in certain cases, like in winter, may as well have been a death sentence for some). In phillipines before colonialization for certain communities the punishment for rape was death. For gods sake islam too,,,, like,,, have these ppl never read qur'an and seen that physical punishment is one of the forms of punishment prescribed for certain offenses which are seen as affecting community negativity? Theres obviously a million other examples out there. I dont know what these people are smoking to think that the concept of "actions have consequences" was invented by the white man or whatever

[i-starcreamed]

Please tell me of the 3 skrunkies 🙏🙏

Or even just one of 'em

🥺 <- wishes to hear about them (please)

YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME!!

Gonna write a short summary for each of em' bc I'll go into a full rant otherwise. So, the 3 skrunkies are called Downfall, MotorRaid, A-Strike (still working on names, but I like downfall the most)

Pre-war, Downfall's purpose on Cybertron was to be a military weapon. Her original alt-mode was a sniper rifle, she attended training and was usually wielded by one of her closer troop members. When the war first began, she easily sided with the Decepticons.

Early on became a bounty hunter, capturing/killing Autobots for payments. Rarely ever went after her own faction, but a good payment is a good payment...With this payment, she went under several modifications. The most prominent is her right arm which was modified to turn into a sniper rifle, that way she can actually fight without transforming. Second, for practicality, she replaced her right optic with a sniper scope as well (she totally didn't lose her eye)

During her time as a bounty hunter, she teamed up with A-Strike and MotorRaid (although very begrudgingly) to form their own little group. It didn't go too well, so that didn't last long. They willingly joined the Decepticons under Megatrons command, Downfall becomes a loyal sniper. In whatever continuity, whenever she travels to Earth, she chooses a jet mode (ATN - 51) I'd like to think that her overall personality is like...TFA Prowl except more aggressive, less curious, more impulsive :D

next up is...MotorRaid

Raid was originally a junk-loader on Cybertron. He brought and took back materials and junk and other construction bots did the rest of the work. He picked out what did and what didn't get transported to planet Junkion. With this job, he found out he had a thing for collecting small trinkets. Collecting and hoarding them. Despite having literal massive hands he somehow can pick out small gears and knows where everything is in junk piles.

Not to mention he has a thing for organizing, expect to find him in a junkyard organizing literal garbage by size and color

To be honest? He didn't hate his job, he just disliked how bots of his caste were treated. He also quickly became a Megatron supporter.

Upon going to The Pits more often, perhaps he also found out he had a thing for participating in fights and brawls...bro had a violence awakening

Once teamed up with the other two bots, he took the role of being a "look-out" and also was in charge of taking care of the bigger bots. He's not quiet/sneaky like Downfall or clever like A-Strike, but he's built like a cybertronian bodybuilder with suppressed anger issues, man

He's a pretty quiet bot actually, looks more intimidating than his actual personality. More prone to give mercy than any of the rest

Next up is A-Strike

Also took part in military training as an Aviation Maintenance Officer. His alt mode is like...a massive transport aircraft. Literally, no one liked working with him because bro is too strict and a perfectionist but he also did his job right sooo

Doesn't know how to take accountability, only reason he sided with the Decepticons was because he blamed the upper castes (no one likes me...it must be the higher-ups fault >:( ) Here he learned he can't boss everyone around or else he's gonna get beat up (he got beat up)

Joined with Downfall and Raid because they killed a bot he didn't like, thought they had similar mindsets and didn't realize they were literally bounty hunters. Either way, he became somewhat like a strategist to them since "their ideas weren't good enough" and somehow he was also good at that

Didn't end up actually joining Megatron's ranks when the other two did, he just kinda did his own thing afterward

tbh I still need a complete backstory for him so this might change :D

[highwayphantoms]

Happy Friday!! For Cal and shapeshifting, how about ❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜ 🥺

and another one for @dadrunkwriting :D ty for the prompt! here is the first time Cal and Anders get to have a proper conversation outside the Circle. :3

Warnings: General implications of canon-typical violence, nothing explicitly mentioned. Words: 853

--

Somehow, Darktown seemed less terrifying after dark. Even in the guise of a big, black dog that had, so far, been intimidating enough that even members of the Carta left them alone, Cal felt hopelessly vulnerable traversing Darktown alone. Under any other circumstances, they would not have ventured out alone. With Carver, or perhaps even Aveline, though a guardsman in the bowels of the city would hardly go unnoticed.

This was not a conversation that Cal relished having with others listening in. That was, at least, assuming Anders was even in the clinic to begin with. After what had happened in the Chantry earlier in the evening, Cal wouldn’t be surprised if he simply disappeared. But they owed him an explanation. Several explanations.

And Karl…

Cal had not known Karl well, but well enough to be thoroughly horrified at what the templars had done. Using a known associate to lure out a runaway? That fit perfectly with the habits of templars. But to take a Harrowed mage and render him Tranquil?

Carver, Varric, Aveline—they hadn’t understood. How could they? Not one of them knew what it meant to be Tranquil. How the process just removed everything that made a mage a person.

But Cal had known a half dozen Tranquil mages in Kinloch. The idea of doing that to an enchanter was unthinkable. At least, it had been. Uncomfortably aware of the grime collecting between their toes, Cal trotted through the narrow alleys of Darktown to the marginally less dank corner where Anders had set up the clinic. The muck wouldn’t transfer—they’d learned that early on—but the memory of it would itch at them until they bathed. They suppressed a shudder and continued on. The lamp outside the clinic was dark, but the tiny sliver of light under the doors suggested that Anders was indeed present. Cal nudged the door with their nose, hoping it might be unbarred and not surprised to find that it wasn’t.

They sighed and, in the span of a heartbeat, shifted back. Armed with opposable thumbs once more, Cal rapped their knuckles against the door in an old, familiar pattern. One-two, one-two, one-two-three.

Silence answered them. After several seconds, Cal began to doubt their initial assessment of the light under the door, but then they heard the rasp of wood rubbing against wood. Another moment, then the door was pulled open.

His eyes were rimmed with red, but dry and wary. “So you are from Kinloch,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Cal nodded tightly. “May I come in?”

With a humorless laugh, Anders stepped aside. “Might as well,” he muttered. “I’m sure you have questions.” Wordlessly, Cal entered the clinic. Once they were clear, Anders shut the door and slid the bar back across it, then turned to face them. “At least answer one of mine first. Who are you?”

“Calanthe,” they said quietly. “I was one of Wynne’s apprentices.” He peered at them for a long moment, then shrugged helplessly. “I wish I could say I remembered you.”

“You’ve seen that I can become a dog,” they said gently, “but the first shape I mastered was that of a tabby cat.”

Anders frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I believe you called me Mr. Wiggums.”

For a long moment, Anders only stared at them. Then, in a halting voice, he said, “Then—you know—”

Cal shook their head and firmly replied, “I would never breathe a word to anyone else.”

“I—thank you.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, casting his gaze anywhere but at Cal. “Your turn. What do you want to know?”

“You’re possessed,” they said.

“That’s not a question,” he retorted, still avoiding their eyes.

“How long?”

Anders shrugged and said evasively, “A few months.”

“I’m not afraid of you, you know,” Cal murmured, taking a step towards him.

In turn, he stepped back, maintaining what little distance there was between them. “You should be,” Anders countered.

They nodded, just once. “Okay.” Cal took a deep breath, considering their words, and exhaled slowly. “I just… I’m sorry. I should have been honest with you from the start, instead of using my brother to ask you for help. I was afraid. Afraid you’d throw me back to the templars to save your own skin, but…”

“I would never.”

“I know,” they said. “I spent eleven years in the Circle. I’m… I forget that it’s different out here.”

This time, Anders did look at them. “You can trust me,” he said quietly.

Cal smiled tightly. “I should go,” they replied. “My mother will have a fit if I’m not back before morning.”

“That’s probably wise.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “Thank you. I… seem to owe you a great deal more than I thought.”

“Different world, different rules,” Cal said quietly. “As far as anyone else knows, you and I met for the first time tonight. I would like to keep it that way.”

Anders nodded, and gestured towards the door. “Then it was nice to meet you. And I’ll… see you around.”

“Goodnight, Anders.”

“Goodnight, Hawke.”

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

I love bees please tell me about bees

BEES 🐝🐝🐝

warning: bee violence described ahead

-ok ok so bumblebees are way more chill than honeybees and are much less likely to sting

-honeybees have barbed stings that hook into mammal flesh and tear out which is why they die when they sting u and bumblebees don't happy news!! This happens bc it means the venom can keep pumping in longer and it's more likely to incapacite the target

-this evolved bc honeybees have hives of like 30,000 so they've got a lot more to protect than bumblebees that have like 500 and each honeybee is more an extension of the hive superorganism so their goal is not to survive to reproduce themselves it's to protect the hive so it can survive and reproduce (below)

-when thinking about a hive as a superorganism and every bee as just a component of that, the way it really reproduces is when the old queen takes about two thirds of the workers and heads off to establish a new hive leaving a new queen to take over the old one

-bees (well wasps then bees evolved from wasps) evolved to be pollinators bc they used to eat pollen-covered beetles then began to prefer the pollen to the beetle 🤣

-stings are modified ovipositors (egg laying things) so only females can sting

-there are way more species of solitary bees than social ones but we don't act like it 😔

-the WAGGLE DANCE is the coolest thing everrr it's how workers communicate the location of good flowers to others in the hive. They move in a kind of figure of eight on the comb inside the hive, wiggling their abdomen. The direction of the middle bit of the 8 in relation to the hive is the angle from the sun the food source is, how long the dance lasts tells them how far away it is, and how fast the bee is wiggling is how exciting the food source is 🥺 they also do this when they're looking for a new hive and want to communicate their find

-there's literally no way to stop domesticated bees leaving their hive if they don't wanna be there whatever certain animal rights activists might say if they were barred from leaving the hive they couldn't go out and get nectar and pollen and make honey or pollinate or anything at all so if the hive decides they don't like their digs they can just leave at any time

-bees maintain their hive temperature at about 30 degrees c purely through UNHOOKING THEIR WINGS from their flight muscles and vibrating their flight muscles so all the energy is converted to heat

-one of the main predators of bees are wasps called BEE WOLVES

- Eastern honey bees in Japan have evolved alongside giant hornets that are capable of massacering an entire hive so the bees have evolved a strategy where they let the hornet enter the hive then ambush it and completely cover to make a BEE BALL then do the flight muscle vibration thing and literally COOK IT

-the western honey bee has been introduced all over the world but it hasn't been able to persist in japan bc they don't know how to cook hornets

-east african lowland honey bees were introduced to brazil and of course escaped and bred with western honey bees and spread over the americas and bc african honey bees are not domesticated and haven't had strong defensive response bred out of them like western honey bees they're way more likely to swarm and sting and be a lil like tracker jackers so that's what the whole killer bee thing is

-female bees come from fertilised eggs laid by the queen, and as larvae if they are fed ✨royal jelly✨ they grow into queens, otherwise they are workers

-new queens when they emerge fight to the death til only one is left

-they then go out and mate with several drones from other hives and stores their sperm so they can fertilise their eggs and don't have to mate again for the rest of their life

-the queen is constantly surrounded by COURT BEES that pass their pheromones around the hive pretty much by licking other bees so the hive knows the queen is still healthy and reproducing otherwise they will pretty much mutiny the queen is really not in charge

-workers progress through jobs as they get older:

-the youngest clean cells in the comb

- then they feed the older larvae then progress to feeding the younger ones

-then they do hive maintenance like twmperature control and producing wax to build with and getting rid of dead bodies and EMBALMING the larger ones to prevent disease (they're literally called undertakers)

-then they are on guard duty during which they learn from returning workers

-and then finally when they get old enough they go out to flowers and collect pollen and nectar

-male bees are called drones and hatch from unfertilised eggs the queen lays. Their sole purpose in life is to fly around and find queens from other hives to mate with. If they succeed in this, their genitalia literally explodes during it and they fall to the ground dead 💀

-if a drone doesn't achieve this most glorious of life purposes they will end up get kicked out of the hive to die come wintertime bc they can't rlly feed themselves and so beg from workers and are thus a waste of resources

-the reason this system of having a queen who is the only one who reproduces (called eusociality) is seen in mostly hymenoptera (bees wasps and ants) is thought to be bc of how their genetics work. Those that come from unfertilised eggs (dudes) share 100% of their DNA with their mother and, and those from fertilised eggs... how do i explain this ok

so coming from an unfertilised egg basically means you have half the number of chromosomes as those who come from fertilised eggs

so

When a queen with these chromosomes A B C D lays an unfertilised egg it will be a male (drone) with these chromosomes for example: A C (can be any combo of two of the above)

However, when they lay a fertilised egg:

Mother (Queen) + Father (Drone)

Chromosomes: A B C D + E F

= female with chromosomes: A C E F for example

other daughter might have these chromosomes: D C E F

But they will always get the same two from their father bc he only has two to give bc he came from an unfertilised egg

So workers can have have 50% up to 100% DNA in common with any of their sister and this gal above has 75% of the same DNA as their sister. If they had their own offspring they'd only share 50% of their DNA with them. So they're going to be perpetuating more of their genes (the whole basic endgame of life and evolution) if they help raise their siblings than their own kids.

this system of genetics js called haplodiploidy which is such a fun word and this absolutely not a scientifically accurate explanation but it's the gist i hope 😅

eusociality has also evolved in naked mole rats who absolutely don't do haplodiploidy but we don't talk about that