#causality and accountability

[theresilientphilosopher]

Discover how the laws of physics reflect personal leadership, accountability, and resilience through insights from The Resilient Philosopher: The Prism of Reality by D. León Dantes.

[dleondantes]

Discover how the laws of physics reflect personal leadership, accountability, and resilience through insights from The Resilient Philosopher: The Prism of Reality by D. León Dantes.

[agirlwiththoughtsandnegativity]

@thenightmareinyourcloset I need to know if you ever got to writing that story hmm. or more plagiarism?? I caught you 🫣🤨😒

[frasiest]

testosterone currently in the ’just fuck my shit up’ phase bc Every Single shirt i own is too big on me but each in their own special way

[tarudce22]

Last day of the year is going great so far. It has me and my twin both agonizing over 1/4th scale figures we want but they're just SO BIG, and my dad telling me I should start drawing nsfw/smut.

[chrrific]

XO CALL ME ✶ TELL ME I’M YOURS

𝓁’H𝑖STO𝑖RE ─── in which the ceo’s son and the accountant’s daughter spark an electric chemistry.

𝑈𝑃𝑇𝛰𝑊𝑁 𝐹𝑈𝑁𝐾 event — prompt 01. requested by @haeeeeefer (sorry for not tagging earlier)

𝓹airing CEO’s son! sunghoon x accountant’s daughter! 𝑓. reader wc 1.5k ⟢ — fluff, tension, childhood frenemies to lovers ୨ৎ 𝓵’avis lots of tension + mention of a girl in sunghoon’s room + kissing

NOT PROOFREAD + LOWERCASE INTENDED

you were never supposed to feel a spark whenever you saw park sunghoon; the most blood-boiling person you had ever met or spoken to.

the idea of still talking to someone you met a lot as a child seems nice and all, but not with him. as a young child, he was a brat; spoilt and entitled. he would want new shoes if he stepped in mud, and a new outfit too.

and you, well, you were the accountant’s daughter. you never questioned stuff or asked for new things whenever you went out to play in them. you were just raised that way, and you were happy with that.

you see, sunghoon’s dad was your dad’s boss. and being the son of the CEO of a huge company, sunghoon always had everything in arms reach.

( read more under the cut >< )

latest iPhone? check. new clothes? call the store to bring their collection to his house. need a ride and don’t have a drivers licence? call the chauffeur.

it was that easy for him.

meanwhile you, being daddy’s little girl, was forced to stay with him as a child during those hundreds of office dinners at the park family mansion.

he was absolutely insufferable; both as a child and an adult. he got his job from his father, directly jumping up to project manager from being a college student.

all while you got your job from the pain and toil of taking in your father’s footsteps; now being a chartered accountant. it wasn’t easy, and you didn’t exactly love your job, but it paid good money, and that was all you needed.

you were surely opposites of each other, and this case was definitely not an ‘opposites attract’ case. or at least, you thought so.

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

today, here you are again at another Park family mansion party; champagne flowing out of glasses and causal banter gracing the giant house.

where sunghoon was, only the heavens knew. it was like he suddenly disappeared out of thin air; one moment he was in sight and the next, gone.

you, being a kind friend of his (if you could even call yourself that, especially with the relentless bickering between you both) took it upon yourself to find him in the labyrinthine depths of the house.

you found yourself on the second floor — where all the bedrooms of the home-owners were. you had only come here a few times, when you and sunghoon got bored of the party downstairs as young teenagers.

you slowly opened a door that you could only assume was the one to his room, quietly peeping inside. you then saw an unthinkable sight; sunghoon sitting on the edge of his bed, next to a girl.

sunghoon and a girl? it was absolutely unheard of to you. and for some reason unknown to you, it made you feel a bit queasy the more you saw it.

his head snapped to the door to see you standing there, his gaze unwavering — it almost made your heart race for the same unknown reason.

you felt a creeping heat rise up your neck, embarrassment making your words come out as a sort of question. “I-i was looking for the bathroom..?”

the girl sitting next to him — clad in million-inch heels and a questionably short dress — gave you a short, dirty look, as if she was planning on how she’d murder you and hide your body that very night.

sunghoon had an emotionless expression on, like he always did. yet, being the ever-observant person he was, he noticed the slight flash of disappointment in your usually sparkling eyes.

you quickly closed the door with a small squeak of an apology, walking away as fast as your four-inch-heeled feet could take you.

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

after the embarrassing happening of you walking into sunghoon’s room, this was the first time you met.

his mother had kindly invited your family over for dinner, to celebrate your father’s twenty year anniversary working for the company. you were normally okay with being alone with sunghoon in his room on these events, yet tonight, it was awkward.

and that too, in a weird way. things had always been slightly blunt with the both of you, yet, this time if felt different. the tension had changed to a more subtly thick one, the quiet suffocating.

“so… how’ve you been?” you started, trying to break the ice, even if it was just a little bit. he glanced up at you, his gaze moving from the carpeted floors up to your face for a second.

he cleared his throat, trying to form a sentence in the tense moment. “it’s been alright.” his tone was cold as usual, but there was something hidden under the layers. something almost unrecognisable.

it was somewhat flustered, an emotion the man never showed. in front of you, that is.

“that’s good” you nodded slightly, feeling the unbearable silence come back into play. the way he looked at you this time, though still unreadable, was slightly different; soft.

and why? no one knew, not even sunghoon.

what would it feel like to kiss you? was the first question that occupied his mind as his eyes travelled from the ground to you. the way your lip gloss shone in the dim light only let him think of the one, stupid thought.

he didn’t even realise he was staring until you quietly waved a hand in front of his face. meanwhile, you were really confused; why was he looking at you like he wanted to eat you or something?

his eyes widened slightly, a faint, almost unintelligible flush creeping up his cheeks. he was blushing now too?

his mysterious, cold persona wavered just a little, a reminder that even the park sunghoon could get embarrassed.

“sorry, i didn’t- I was just thinking.” he muttered, refusing to meet your gaze. you were just about to say something along the lines of ‘you never fumble your words’ when a knock sounded on the door.

“come in,” his voice sounded a bit strained, but it went unnoticed by you. the maid poked her head in through a small gap she made in the door for herself. “your mother said to come down for dinner.”

he nods, getting up from the edge of his bed and gestured for you to follow. wordlessly, you made your way down to the wide, elegantly poised staircase, taking a seat at the dinner table next to your own mother.

his father sat up at the head, your own sitting to his left and his mother sitting on the right. your mother sat next to his, and both were engrossed deep in conversation with each other. you took a seat next to your father, him sitting down next to you.

he had no idea why he decided to sit next to you, abandoning his usual spot on the other end of the long table.

over dinner, the sound of soft chatter between your parents was heard, but both you and sunghoon remained quiet as ever. you started down at your drink — cranberry juice mixed with pineapple — and lost yourself in it.

sunghoon’s hand brushed against yours as you reached for the sauce next to him, and it set an odd tingle on your skin. you distracted yourself by taking a bite of the mashed potatoes sitting idly on your plate, and engaging in conversation with both yours and his mother.

as dinner continued, sunghoon’s hand accidentally touched your drink glass, spilling some of it on your light beige dress. his eyes widened as he saw the stain, and he offered to help you clean it up.

seeing no choice to say politely refuse in front of your families, you nodded, following him to the small powder room just outside the dining room.

note — it wasnt small. it was probably the size of a normal room in a middle-class home, but with the sheer number of times you’ve been in here over the years, it didn’t seem all that weird to you.

the tension thickened almost instantly as the two of you entered the powder room, just like how it was back there, up in his bedroom.

he slightly wet a tissue using some water, gently rubbing on the stain with it. you looked down at his face; concentration etched onto it. it was weird, him being so soft.

his gaze flickered up to you, and your eyes locked with his dark brown ones. his face was so close to yours, and you couldn’t control yourself anymore.

your fingers slightly raised his chin up, and he didn’t seem to protest, instead opting to lean even closer to your face.

your breath hitched, and he smirked slightly at the small sound it made in the quiet bathroom. he finally gave into his urges, pressing his lips to yours.

your lips were soft; much softer than he ever imagined how they’d feel against his. the kiss was sweet, yet filled with a longing and yearning that couldn’t be expressed in words no matter how hard you tried.

you pulled away, only because you needed air. “does this change things?” you whispered, unable to speak any louder in fear someone might hear.

“if it didn’t, I don’t think I’d live through it, princess”

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

it was impossible for you to keep your hands off him during the rest of dinner, but you did your best. he kept sending you teasing glances and brushing his finger against yours under the table, trying to rile you up. dinner came to a close, and it was finally time for you to leave. he leaned in closer to your ear and softly whispers in it. “call me later, yeah?”

you were never supposed to feel the spark you felt around park sunghoon, and you knew it. but yet, somehow, he found a place for himself in your heart.

note — likes + reblogs are really appreciated !!

disclaimer — no images / dividers are mine unless specified. please do not repost, translate or plagiarise my works.

© SUGARIKIZ 2025 ୨ৎ

[hitomisuzuya]

stepcest Scara catching reader listening to whimper audios so he helps her get off by fingering her till she cums the same time the whimper audio did PLSSS your fics are so delicious long ily

stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable, please. scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. fingering. squirting. masturbation. one word of degradation.

thank you so much, dear🥺 i appreciate your kind words.

you have been very frustrated lately. you have to do something to vent the enormous crush you have on your stepbrother. especially lately, even trying to make causal conversation with him or accidentally brushing up against him in passing often left you incredibly wet.

whimper audios were your best friend. when no one was home, listening to them was the quickest, easiest way for you to get yourself off.

you usually took extreme precautions, leaving your clothes right next to you in case you had to dress in a hurry. however, things don't always work out exactly like you anticipated.

scaramouche was being treated to quite the sight right now. leaning in the doorway of your room, he feasted his eyes on you in only your panties, your legs spread and one hand tugging and pinching your nipple. the fingers of your other hand hastily skating over your clit, your eyes squeezed shut as your hips rocked up to grind your clit on the pads of your fingers.

you twitched and squirmed restlessly, occasionally giving your other nipple attention. you are struggling to muffle your moans despite the fact that you thought you were alone.

"scaramouche. scaramouche," you moan so cutely, your fingers messily skating across your throbbing clit a little faster each time you whimpered out his name. you are practically shaking, gripped with the need to find some sort of sexual relief. the rapid build up of pleasure gathering in your clit, your walls squeezing around nothing made you careless. forgetting everything around you, leaving with no awareness.

consumed by thoughts of scaramouche doing things to you that would make you whimper like the ones in the audio.

smirking, scaramouche walked over to your bed, and plucked one of your ear buds out of your ear. "are you kidding me?" he asked, putting the earbud in his ear out of curiosity. "there are better things out there to get yourself off."

you didn't think you'd ever been so startled in your life. your fingers automatically left the inside of your panties, your arm immediately going up to cover your chest. stunned, you realized that you would rather anyone else walk in on you but your step brother.

"scara! what are--" you sputtered, your cheeks couldn't have felt warmer from embarrassment. "you can't just walk in here. i thought you left for the afternoon," you practically smacked the pause button on your phone.

"what? like you are mad about it," he teased, holding your ear bud out of your reach as you lunged for it. "don't stop on my account. please, continue. i was getting hard and enjoying the show."

your mouth dropped open, genuinely at a loss for what to say. you watched, wide eyed as he reached over and rewound your audio. "what are you doing?" you asked, reaching for your clothes.

scaramouche put a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down on your bed. "you poor thing. i can tell from the way your body was twitching that you are so pent up," he purred, enjoying the way your cheeks flushed darker. "let me help you out," parting your legs, his knuckles brushed against your pussy outside of your panties.

"what? would you really?" the words tumbled out of your mouth. you shouldn't be this position with your stepbrother, nor should you say such things to him. but here you were, more wet oozing onto your puffy, neglected pussy just from the thought of scaramouche helping you out.

"of course," he continued in a honeyed, slightly condescending tone as he pressed play. "what kind of stepbrother would i be if i didn't help my precious stepsister discover there are better ways to get off," he nudged your panties aside, his cock pulsing feeling you soak on his fingers as they dipped between your folds. "especially since you were thinking about me the whole time."

"i wasn'-" you protested, shivering as your hips twitched to grind on his fingers as they grazed your clit teasingly.

"oh, no?" scaramouche circled your clit before giving it a light, wet smack. your hips jolted off the bed, and you moaned like your body had just gotten something it'd been deprived of all your life. "scaramouche, scaramouche," he mocked your earlier moans, tracing the outline of your sopping cunt, "please, you sounded so pathetic it was adorable," he pushed two fingers inside of you.

his fingers launched an all out assault on your pussy, hooking his fingers to the knuckle and slowly stretching you apart. he timed the strokes into your sweet spot with the whimpers in the audio, your juices pooling syrupy onto his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you.

"your whimpers sound so similar to the ones in your silly audio," scaramouche snickered, his eyes following your hand as it scrambled up to pinch and roll your nipple "how cute," he pulled his fingers out of you, sweeping them up to rub and tease your clit.

you mewled as your walls squeezed empty around nothing, desperate to swallow his breathtaking fingers back inside your cunt. it wasn't long before your whimpers mingled in time with the audio. you quite frankly were in awe at his skill, skill you'd cum so hard thinking about him actually having. and it more than showed in your pleasured, fucked out expression as he bullied your sweet spot.

"that's my good girl. keep looking at me just like that," he emphasized the last three words with harsher pumps, making pleasure shatter through your core. "keep looking at me like i'm the center of your world. maybe i'll stuff these pretty holes full of toys next time."

you moaned louder hearing the promise of a next time in his voice. "you are practically suffocating my fingers, slut," he groaned, his cock straining and leaking precum in jeans watching you fall apart on his fingers.

your orgasm was building up at a dizzying level, his fingers squelching lewdly as your hips bucked into his fingers. you clawed at his wrist, writhing on the bed. scaramouche chuckled seeing you suddenly squirt all over his fingers. you must not have known you could do that judging from the startled look on your face.

a look that only last a few moments, his fingers hooking into your sweet spot just right. you shook, letting out a high pitched cry of blissed relief, cumming hard on his fingers.

scaramouche fingered you through your orgasm until the audio was finished playing. "see? it was that easy surrendering to me," he purred, licking his fingers clean once he pulled them from your pussy.

[sillyteecup]

Licking The Bloodstains from your alter

Terry Richmond x black!o.c

Warnings:

18+

Obsessive behavior

Violence

Mentions of murder

Very questionable decision making

Exhibitionism if you squint

Smut

Word count: 6954🧍🏾

A.N: remember how I was supposed to have this up 4 days ago? Fucking hilarious business I tell you, like I'm even slapping my knee and stuff🧍🏾. Anyway, here's my first Aaron Pierre/Terry Richmond fic to keep yall busy while I work on the series I've been yapping about. Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoy it❤️

~Tee❤️

"7 months?"

"Yes Indi."

"7 months since someone else gave you an ass clenching, toe curling orgasm, head spinning, heart stopping orgasm?"

"Yes Indi."

"And that bum hasn't called you yet?"

"Yes Indi."

Mila watched boredly as her best friend's hands searched frantically for something to grab while her jaw hung open in disgust and disbelief. They had come back from a night out with Indi asking Mila why she didn't take anyone home with her. Mila's answer left Indi essentially crashing out in the driver's seat of her Mini Cooper right outside of Mila's house.

Although she was over it now, the first month of being ghosted by Terrence James Richmond had left her equally flabbergasted. The mystery American man she had met at Sumo last year gave her one of the best nights of her life when she took him home. It was actually the first time she had experienced an orgasm that wasn't self induced, and it was an out of body experience.

Luckily for Mila, Terry became a gift that kept on giving. Sucking her into an all consuming vortex of stormy eyes, expensive dates, late night phone calls and mind-blowing sex, Mila grew addicted to the enigma. Mind always occupied by the memories of him turning her every which way, the heart always yearning for his presence. Every moment, even non-sexual, felt incredibly intimate with him.

Yes, there were many glaring red flags like the fact that she knew nothing about him aside from his (South African) phone number and the fact he was from Louisiana USA. But in the same breath, he knew virtually nothing about her aside from her name, phone number and address. It was a mutual agreement that they would remain mysteries for each other to uncover. There was also his possessive streak. Despite his naturally calm and stoic demeanor, he always made sure to his claim on her when he fucked her; hand prints, hickeys and literal bite marks all over her for the world around her to see. And God forbid another man even thought of breathing in her direction in public: let's just say that Terry had no qualms with gratuitous PDA.

Mila wouldn't say she loved him, no, scratch that she did love him, but she also loved what he brought with him. The excitement, the passion and obviously, the dick. Even while riddled with commitment issues, Terry had hypnotized her into envisioning a future with him in it. She actually liked him and being around him. Mila actually wanted to keep him around.

Until one night when his usual 10 pm call didn't come. Until he never called, or knocked on her door again. She didn't even know any of his friends or whoever it was he stayed with so she couldn't reach him. For 2 weeks she blew his phone up, worried that something may have happened to him. One day she even caved and googled him, hoping to find a social media account or anything to alert her of his whereabouts. The only thing she managed to find was the fact that he served as a Marine for about 6 years before being honorably discharged a year ago. Everything else was a dead end.

Distraught at the sudden loss of someone who had etched himself into the life of a woman who never made space for lovers, Mila eventually grew to accept his disappearance. If anything, he solidified her lack of trust in romantic partners, pushing her back into the realm of strictly causal sex. The only problem was that he had ruined her for the rest of the world. She shuffled through hook-up after hook-up, chasing the high he had fed her during their 2 months together, to no avail. She began to suspect his dick was laced with something because there was no way it was impossible to replicate that feeling. Either way, she would never hear from any of those hook-ups again.

I wonder what that's about.

Maybe I'm just looking in the wrong places, she told herself. But alas, she eventually gave up on that as well, swearing celibacy for the next 2 years. She thought of it as a reset of her mind, body and soul. Maybe after enough time, she would be free from the now blood boiling memories and sex would become fun.

This mini-debrief session was the first time that Mila had spoken to anyone about Terry outside of a throwaway line like, "Gotta go, godly dick is waiting on my doorstep," and "This fuck-ass nigga is ghosting me." No one in her life even knew his name until now.

"No Mila, we need to find this gent and jump him. There's no way-" Indi yelled, smacking her dashboard in frustration.

Mila shrugged nonchalantly. Sure, the topic still stung a little, but she was at a point where she didn't wanna think or care about it anymore. Terrence James Richmond was gone and probably never coming back.

"I'm not doing that; broer probably always has a gun on him," Mila replied coolly. The last thing she needed was having a gun in the hands of a military man in her face because she overestimated her odds.

"It's fine, you just get your father to find him, then I'll organize the firepower for me, you and Sandy," Indi said, suggesting Mila convince her dad who had connections in the US military and the marines from the time of his Marine service.

Mila's eyes went cold at the suggestion. The last thing she wanted was to involve her hot-tempered and trigger happy father in the affairs of her sex life.

"Absolutely not," she stated firmly.

"But Mila-"

"Indiphile I said no. Ebile, let's drop this topic before I get PTSD flashbacks," Mila interjected, knowing that Indi wasn't going to drop it unless she firmly put her foot down.

Indi held her hands up in surrender, acknowledging that there was no room for argument. "Let's go inside then, I'd like to eat something decent before I go back to that baren land I call my apartment," Indi suggested while adjusting her jacket and grabbing her purse.

"Why don't you just sleep over?" Mila asked. Her dad's insistence on getting her a house instead of an apartment was one that Mila never opposed. At least that way she had more space and got to stick the whole apartment hunting and saving for a house process.

The joys of a bald rich dad with a guilty conscience.

"Neh? It's late and I've got toiletries and enough clothes here," Indi said in agreement, never passing up an invite to spend the night with her best friend.

The friends gathered their stuff and exited the car. They reached the front door, Mila sticking her key in the keyhole to unlock it.

It was already unlocked.

Mila and Indi froze, blood running cold at the possibility of an intruder. The worst part was that if they were in the living room, they already heard them try to unlock the door. Quickly, Mila grabbed her phone from her jean pocket and logged onto the app connected to the security system and cameras in the house.

My dad's paranoia is finally doing something for me.

No notification indicating entry and nothing in today's footage. Although it seemed that no one was inside, Mila was her father's daughter, so she grabbed the gun from her purse, cocking it and making Indi gasp.

"I'm over here talking about pulling strings for glocks, kanti you already have one?" she hissed in disbelief.

Mila just rolled her eyes and shushed her. "I don't know why you're so surprised when you've literally known my dad for this long," she replied calmly, hand reaching to carefully open the door.

Indi shrugged, conceding to Mila's point before slowly following her into the house with a teaser in hand.

Mila stepped into the living room, taking slow and quiet steps with the hope that no one was in the living room. Gun aimed at nowhere, her eyes scanned the dark area finding nothing until-

A lighter flickered. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound, finger instinctively pulling the trigger. Mila frowned. She had expected a grunt or a thud, but all she got was a startled scream from Indi, and probably a hole in the wall.

Maybe I'm hearing thi-

Suddenly Mila felt a hand roughly grip her wrist, catching her off guard and effectively disarming her. She tried kicking at the assailant but it was no use, because they either dodged or flat out blocked all her attacks. Indi had huddled in a corner screaming having dropped the taser in the shock of the gunshot, while a now anxious Mila did her best to fight the assailant off in the dark.

The scuffle however, was put to an end when Mila found herself roughly pinned against the wall right next to the switch for the living room lights. Coupled with the hand holding hers above her head, was the cold metallic barrel of her own gun pushing her chin up launching her into a further panic.

"Whatever it is you want: money, jewelry, what-just please-" she had begun to plead before being shushed.

"Shhhh. I'm only here for you sweetheart."

Ain't no way.

Right as the assailant spoke, Mila's eyes finally adapted to the dark. Although his face was covered in a ski mask, those eyes were unmistakable. Factoring in the voice and his scent-oh that rich, woody, spicy saffron mixed with vanilla and cloves...

"Terrence?"

"Sorry!?" Indi yelled from her corner, Mila realizing that she pondered a little too loudly.

The corners of the man's eyes crinkled. If this was Terry, he was cockily smirking under the mask.

He removed the gun from her skin, causing her to release a breath she didn't know she was holding, and reached for the switch behind her. Once the lights were on, he used the same hand to take the mask off, revealing his identity.

And there's that fuck-ass smirk.

Terry leaned in, dipping his nose into the crook of her neck and deeply inhaling her vanilla-peach and cocoa scent.

"So fucking good, just like I remember," he whispered, lifting his head to meet her rather blank looking eyes.

Mila's mouth was slightly agape as she searched her brain for something to say and how to feel. Too many responses flooded her mind all at once, leaving her blank loss of words.

Indi on the other hand had made up her mind. "Rhaaa, isbindi onaso, kaka ndini yendoda! Hayi uyabenza ubunqundu shem. Kwaye ufluent kubo. Hayi-hayi shem ndiyakuvuma! Wena? Eyakho ibrand yobuBitch ass nigga, ndiyaqala ukuyibona. U-Innovative wena ngamasimba-" she ranted in disgust as she walked towards them. Mila was actually scared that Indi would snap and put her hands on Terry. And that was not something Mila felt like dealing with.

As if reading her mind, Terry slowly backed away from Mila with his hands up while she gathered herself. Her uncertainty of her feelings would have to wait as the situation needed to be de-escalated.

"Indi, I need you to please calm down and wait for me upstairs," Mila requested calmly. "Terry and I have a lot to talk about."

Indi frowned before nodding and stomping up the stairs to the guest room she usually slept in, leaving Mila and Terrence alone in the living room.

The latter's gaze was on Mila, longing, and terrifyingly primal. His lips were still stretched in a smirk as he walked over to her. "I never stopped thinking about you," he unconsciously reassured her.

She sucked her teeth in before saying, "Yet you never came back. You never even fucking called," she spat as she took a step back.

Bitter. Mila was bitter, and angry at this man's audacity to disappear for as long as he did, then break into her house and sing her hymns of sweet nothings.

"Sweetheart I never left," his tone was light and sweet, an unnerving contrast to his physical demeanor..

Mila's eyebrows furrowed, face scrunching up in confusion. "Yes you did. You ghosted me for 7 months while you were who-knows-where, ignoring all of my calls and texts," she argued as she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"That doesn't mean I was gone," Terry insisted, gently placing his hands on her shoulders.

"What do you even mean by that?" Mila asked incredulously, getting progressively baffled and impatient.

He hooked a finger under her chin, raising it for her eyes to meet his.

"I mean exactly that. I've been here the whole time watching you, keeping you safe," he whispered. Although he sounded sincere, his irises twinkled with something sinister. Like there was a darker edge to his revelation.

"Well, except I did leave for about a week, but I was always gonna come back to you. Then my pops called about getting me a job down here, and I couldn't believe my luck when he told me who was offering and what it was," he explained, with a light chuckle.

Mila arched an eyebrow, "You gonna tell me or-" she was interrupted by Terry placing his index finger against her lips.

"So impatient. You really are daddy's little girl," he mused, confusing Mila even more. How the hell would Terry know that when she had never even spoken about him to her?

"But let me cut to the chase. Your pops basically hired me to be your...long distance bodyguard to put it simply," he shrugged. "So like I said, I've been here the whole time, watching you."

Something about the way he said "watching you," made Mila's blood run cold. She doubted he meant it as strictly professional.

"Watching me?" she choked out, terror seeping in at what he could mean.

"Yeah...watching you eat. Watching you sleep. Watching you shower. Watching you go about your routines and shit."

Then he leaned in, head dipping to plant kisses up her neck, and jaw until his lips softly grazed her earlobe. "Watching you let some random niggas touch what's mine," he said before planting more soft kisses on her jaw, eliciting a moan.

However, it didn't take long for her to register his words, and her body stiffened. "Terry..."

"Mmm?" he hummed against her skin.

"Don't tell me you-"

"Got rid of 'em? Tuh, each and every last one...gone!" he laughed menacingly before stepping back to look into her now teary eyes.

"N-no, no, no, NO! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Mila cried as she stared at him in horror.

"Nah, don't get it twisted sweetheart, this is all on you. I did it all for you!" Terry tried to grab a hold of her hand but she fought him off, disgusted by him using her as a scapegoat.

"You killing innocent people because you're a jealous, possessive, psychotic creep was for me? Try again Terrence," Mila spat venomously.

Terry ran a hand over his frustrated face, doing his best to quell his rising temper as a result of her tone. He desperately dug through the corners of his mind for a way to reason with her, not wanting things to come to a head. Even though they had only argued once before this, Terrence knows that with their combined tempers, a fiery explosion was afoot.

"They couldn't make you cum-"

"Wow-"

"They couldn't satisfy that precious little pussy the way I could. Never had your eyes rolled back, your toes curling, your legs shaking...nothing. And that shit tore you up from the inside out," he said, reminding her of the frustrating aftermath of her sexcapades.

"I watched you, every Saturday , crying and throwing shit around because you hated me for ruining you. You screamed and cried about being broken and that you hated them for not being able to fix you. You were spiraling-It wasn't just them," Terry rambled, making Mila's scowl even deeper.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait...Terry...who else did you kill?" Mila asked, prompting Terry to retrieve a backpack from underneath her coffee table. She watched as he took out a binder and placed it on the table and sat next to it, gesturing for her to come closer.

She complied, albeit hesitantly, taking small apprehensive steps towards the man she once felt safe around enough to be vulnerable with, taking a seat on the edge of the table. Terry opened the binder, the contents of its folders and pages eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Pictures by the dozen, of people Mila had not only slept with, but also had interactions that she vaguely remembered with. Negative interactions being the common theme.

Her ex coworker, Sean, whom she had reported to HR for harassment when he wouldn't stop threatening to tamper with her work if she didn't go out with him. Last she had heard, he had resigned before committing-

Terry.

Her creepy tutor, Simon who tried to solicit her into giving him head for a good word with her professor regarding her latest assignment. Apparently he had left the University 2 weeks before being found dead in Centurion.

Also Terry.

That one aggressive Jehova's witness lady that had tried to accuse her and Indi of shoplifting at Dischem after Indi cursed her out for following them around the store. Mila never really expected to see her again to be fair. In fact she had forgotten all about her.

But Terry had killed her too.

Tons of people, dead from what seemed like mysterious or natural causes. Their biggest sin was being a random stranger that had upset Mila, no matter how minute the situation. He had all their pictures, personal details and reasons for their deaths documented. Also in the binder, we're pictures of Mila herself. Sleeping, eating, showering, reading, talking to her friends, at work, at school, with her family-

And for some sick reason, all of this was endearing to her. What should have scared the ever living crap out of Mila, and had her running to the nearest police station, actually relieved her.

Terry loved her. He didn't even have to say it. This was all the proof she needed that he hadn't just discarded her after everything. He really had been around the entire time, watching over her and trying to keep her happy.

She glanced up at him, a small smile forming as gratitude coated her features.

"Terry you actually did this? For me?"

Terry scooted closer to her, moving the binder to the side and cupping her face. "All for you sweetheart. All for you. You're everything to me, and I'll be damned if anyone fucks with what's mine," he whispered, fingers gently tracing up her back before reaching the nape of her neck. Gentleness was then thrown out of the window when he snatched at the roots of her braids, eliciting a surprised yelp, to push her face closer to his. His eyes had gone from green to hazel, the flecks in his irises darkening as his eyes took her in like she were but his prey.

“But don't think any of this means I forgot that you let some bum-ass niggas touch my shit,” he said darkly, making Mila bite back a moan at the sharp sting in her scalp and the dark promise behind his words. Her thong had already begun to dampen.

Feeling brave, she smirked. “Yeah? And what exactly are you gonna do about it Terrence?” she taunted. If the defiant question wasn't enough, she was certain that using his government name would definitely trigger him.

Terry let out a menacing chuckle accompanied by a slow no. His reaction to Mila's dare had her rubbing her thighs together (something she naively prayed he wouldn't see). His piercing gaze had already been enough to get her wet; at this point she was damn near a dripping faucet.

“First,” he began, punctuating the word with another yank at her roots. “You're gonna tell your little friend to either put on some noise canceling headphones and bump something on full blast, or put in some earplugs, or whatever the fuck else, because tonight I plan to have you screaming at the top of your fucking lungs until your little slut throat gives out,” he explained eerily calmly.

“Then, you're gonna go to your room, and you're gonna wait for me on your bed, in nothing but that little red thong you put on tonight, on all fours like the pretty, smart, and above all…” he trailed off as his lips claimed hers in a soft, but also raw and hungry kiss that took her breath away all the while gnawing at his self-control.

It was like a dance. Terry was the lead and every step he took, Mila followed in line. His tongue glided across her teeth, her jaw made way for entry. He nipped at her bottom lip, she let out a needy moan and slid her tongue over his. Every movement was in sync. An outsider would say rehearsed.

But Terry's resolve was waning. If he didn't pull away when he did, he would have taken her on the coffee table like a rabid animal. He still had a point to prove, and he planned to draw it out for as long as he could. Mila’s eyes remained half closed in a love drunk state, prompting Terry to pat her cheek firmly

“Like the obedient little slut I know you can be.”

Mila had never done a single hard drug in her life. The only high she had experienced was Terry induced, and if she was being honest, solely from what she had heard and read, it was all the same.

Hands planted into the gray satin sheet to support her trembling knees, her skin vibrated in anticipation as he stared at her from the doorway. The awe in his hazel eyes was seasoned with unfiltered lust. His ability to remain restrained for this long surprised Mila. 7 months ago he would've had her against the dresser, holding her immobile body up while he fucked her into another consciousness by now. But that was 7 months ago. Since then he had watched 5 too many people fail her. He had watched from a distance while they left with her that knot he could untie with one touch.

A slight tinge of resentment returned, and from the way Terry's eyes darkened even more than before, Mila knew he had sniffed out. She also knew that the next plan of action would be to snuff it out. As much as she owed him a plate of penitence for letting those lesser beings even breathe near what he held so sacred, he had prepared it with his absence.

At least they had paid for their crimes. It didn't matter that they were unaware of them.

“Fucking beautiful,” Terry mused. He began to walk towards Mila, his piercing gaze, and slow, purposeful steps growing that little knot in her belly.

He squatted at the foot of the bed, meeting her at eye level. “You wanna know what my favorite thing about you is?” he asked gently, completely contrasting his foreboding demeanor.

Mila, breath caught in her throat, nodded eliciting a disappointed sigh from Terry. His hand shot up to grab at her jaw. “What happened to all that mouth from downstairs huh? You ain't have nann issues acting bold and calling me by my government name,” he said condescendingly as he shook her face roughly.

Mila mentally face-palmed at her past self. If that dumb bitch just knew how to shut up.

The shaking stopped when the pads of his fingers dug into her skin, holding her jaw in place. “You know what? I'll just tell you when I get tweaking off this dick,” he promised with a wild grin.

Mila watched Terry undress: each bracelet unclipped, watch discarded, rings slipped off the fingers that would be knuckle deep inside her and around her throat soon, shirt tossed to the side and pants, socks and shoes left in a pool on the ground. Only one thing remained on his (extremely well endowed) body, and that was the usual silver chain he wore. He always left it on during sex because Mila had told him that she lived for how it hung over her face while he dug her guts out during missionary.

Having waited for what felt like an eternity, Mila watched Terry move around and felt the bed dip behind her as he settled in. His calloused hands ran over her thighs, feeling them as he was making sure this was real. Her breath hitched when they planted themselves sharply on the sides of her ass. Her back arched instinctively when his fingers split her cheeks open for a clearer view of her his moist pussy. The tip of his nose grazing her opening with a ghost of a touch as he inhaled her scent elicited a moan. If she hadn't already been internally shaking impatiently, his thumb rubbing light-almost nonexistent circles on her clit definitely brought her to the brink of begging territory.

Like an addict feigning for a hit while somebody else sets a line of coke onto a counter.

But he had barely touched her, and like he said earlier, she still had a long night ahead of her. So she inhaled deeply and bit her tongue while his fingers played her like dough.

“You'll forgive me baby, but tonight I wanna take my sweet time with you and this sweet little pussy. Need to make sure you both know that you're mine, and that you're always gonna be mine by the time I'm done. And fortunately or unfortunately depending on how much you can take, that might take us all night,” he said softly from behind her. Suddenly his fingers plunged into her entrance, curling against her inner walls making her cry out. He tsked as he added another finger, “Unfortunately it is then,” he sighed.

His fingers continued to curl and scissor, putting pressure on her inner wall, causing her to let out choked moans. His other hand toyed with her clit pushing her towards the tides of an early orgasm. Her mind spun as he reminded her of how well he knew her body. It had been too long since a familiar face had shown itself around these parts and that was evident in the way her stomach and pussy had begun to clench. Her knees vibrated in a slight tremble, telling her that if she took any more she'd find herself flat on the bed in a muddy pile.

“Fuck, baby I knew you missed me but I ain't know it was this bad,” Terry chuckled having felt and read the warning signs of Mila’s pending crash.

“Yeah bab-fuck! Missed you so fucking much,” Mila moaned, the pleasure making her confident enough to speak again.

Before she could sputter out her need to cum, Terry beat her to the cut. “Give it to me sweetheart. Make a mess on my fingers for me,” he said, coaxing her into an orgasm with one last curl.

Mila’s knees parted slightly as she sat up. The hand that Terry had previously used to play with her clit, held her up by the small of her back while he readjusted his body and wrist. Comfortable, she began to ride her orgasm out on his fingers, head thrown back in delirium, albeit minimal at the moment. Terry left a trail of wet kisses from the back of her ear down to her shoulder blade as she finally came down.

“D’you like that,” he whispered in her ear.

“Mhmm,” she hummed with a slow head. Her eyes were lidded, head growing heavier from the intoxicating orgasm and growing arousal.

“Good, good. Because there is plenty more where that came from,” he promised as he slowly removed his fingers that were now coated in her essence. He brought them up to her lip, brushing his fingers against them as if asking for entry. Her lips parted, making way for him to drag his fingers across her tongue while she sucked the contents off nearly clean.

“My beautiful little princess,” he cooed as he felt her tongue clean his fingers off before removing them from her mouth.

Mila felt his body shift as he maneuvered his way off the bed, once again standing at its food. Through her eyelashes she could see him eyeing her, taking her body in while he fought the unholy thoughts that threatened to throw all his restraint away. Her dark skin remained iridescent under the dim lights, every curve and their sister line, stretching as she laid back completely and parted her legs for him to see his handy work.

A cunt seeping of pleasure and begging for more.

Terry licked his lips and shook his head in appreciation. “I don't think I'll ever stop gushing about how beautiful you are sweetheart,” he whispered as his hands roughly yanked her ankles and dragged her body closer to him. His hands then ran up and down her calves while he watched her face strain with excitement and wanton.

“My gorgeous, needy little slut. So needy that she just had to get her fix elsewhere. Pathetic, unworthy, bitch ass niggas coming in here and barely scratching the surface of what makes her snap and come undone. And thank God for audio cameras, because I could hear the fake moans too. That shit drove me over the edge, had me wanting to bust in and show them how it's really done. Have you creaming, shaking and drooling, high off the pure shit,” he said as he kissed up and down her inner thighs.

“Made me wanna end their shit right there and then so you knew what would happen if you kept letting these niggas fuck with you. Oh, I bet you'd have liked that huh? Watching me catch bodies for this shit? That shit alone probably would have made you cum, my crazy, beautiful little slut,” he chuckled, deep voice vibrating against the skin right next to her pussy making her moan.

While. Mila never cared to say it out loud, he was right. Terry's possessive streak was one of her favorite things about him. Especially coupled with the knowledge of the threat he posed to the general population. The idea that a man who was strong enough to snap someone's neck in a split second, was willing to go so above and beyond for her, cared for and coveted her, made her feel safer than any of her dad's extra security measures. And now with the information that he had gone as far as killing people for merely breathing wrong in her direction…the mere thought of it added to the arousal pooling between her legs.

Terry kneeled before her, his laser-focused eyes never once breaking away from her half-opened ones. The first press of his lips against her sent a shiver through her system. Her mind reeled at the light swipes of his tongue across her clit. It had been too long, and she was already on a trip so the increasing pressure coupled with his digits drawing her soul out of body with the traces on the backs of her thighs only sent her into a higher orbit. A light graze of his teeth against her bud drew a sharp gasp from her. Her hands flew to tug at his curls which had grown longer than the last time she had seen him.

“Fuck, Terry don't stop,” she begged, her voice ragged from her heavy breaths, her back arching slightly from the bed. Never one to turn down his precious Mila's wishes, Terry unrelented, feasting on her like a man possessed and employing his hands to keep her pinned to the bed.

Sinful pleas for more sprinkled with the occasional famished grunt filled the room. The air was thick with sex and Mila found herself chasing her breath and another hit all at once as Terry quelled any past doubts she'd had of his desire for her. The tremble in her legs had grown more violent at Terry's onslaught. It was like speeding up the highway to heaven, the way her mind fogged up with every swipe of his tongue. Her breaths grew shorter as her desperate mewls and pleas grew louder.

“Baby I-I need to…fuck, I'm about to-” she sputtered, struggling to form a coherent sentence over the mind numbing spell he had breathed into her pussy.

Refusing to separate from his meal, Terry simply nodded for her to let go and give in to the crashing wave of pleasure. Her body's fluent understanding of him registered the silent beckoning and with that she found herself light headed as she floated into her second orgasm of the night. Terry remained attached to her mound, lapping and sucking the fruits of his labour. He had yet to be satiated, his hunger driving her into another, and another, and yet another head splitting orgasm, despite her loud cries for mercy.

By the time Terry deemed himself fulfilled, Mila's mind had numbed. She felt separated from herself, like her soul had merged into the atoms around her. Nothing but dazed pleasure behind her usually cynical yet curious chocolate colored eyes. Terry's touch sent shocks through her has his climbed onto the bed over her. Although barely present, his hands on her now hypersensitive skin and that damn chain over her face grounded whatever was left of her. He pressed his lips onto hers, the kiss desperate and needing. On autopilot, her lips moved in sync to his, giving into his every whim. Her soft groans as he nipped and licked her lips spurred him on, sending him into what felt like a drunken haze; a sudden extra spike in his need for her.

The kisses traveled down her jaw, where he gently sucked at her skin before trailing down. His head buried into the crook of her neck, the pressure of his lips and tongue on her skin increasing as he left dark patches all over her for all to see.

Feeling like Mila's body was beginning to consume him, Terry raised his head to admire the absolute work of art that laid before him. The miniscule conscious part of her found herself drowning in Terry's lovingly hungry gaze. His features were focused as his index and middle fingers worked her sensitive nipples, kneading and twisting at them to melt Mila into a pile of nothing.

“Damn, my little slut’s already greened out huh? I ain't even give you the main yet and you're already full. Can't think, can't speak, nothing,” he commented with a light chuckle. “I can't lie, I almost feel bad. After all this is all my fault. But I'd actually be lying if I said I didn't like how you look right now. Completely and utterly undone, and I ain't even stick the tip in yet.” The lightness in his tone was deceptive. This man's intentions with her were anything but. Mila’s undone state aside there was still a point to be made. “Now I'm gonna you remind you of how it's supposed to feel to have someone take care of you,” he growled in her ear, his fingers tightening around her nipples, eliciting an incoherent curse from her.

He moved to line himself up at her entrance, gently tapping her with his thick tip. He gently pushed into her, the pressure pulling her body up in a light arch while it drew the unholiest cry to leave her lips. Terry inhaled deeply, the feel of her tight walls around him slightly intoxicating. Driving him to do something unusual for them: bottoming out. She had always said she felt he would be too big to have all of him inside of her, but tonight was different. Clearly he needed to remind her exactly who this pussy belonged to, and what better way than to go all the way and ruin her even further.

“Ah-fuck baby. Too much-” she managed to cry out.

But her words fell on uncaring ears as Terry flashed his signature, sinister grin before pulling out slightly and slamming right back into her, staying there for a moment. She erupted into what sounded like a moan blended with a tortured cry, back once again arching from the bed. Her hands desperately reached for his hips as if trying to push him away, only for him to grab them and pin them above her head and hover over her.

“Feel that baby?” he asked as his hips twisted against hers, drawing a choked groan. “Yeah, that's me digging you out. Tonight you're gonna be an exceptional little slut, and you're gonna take it all; I don't care if it's too much or if you feel it in your chest or whatever the fuck excuses you've got loading in that pretty little lump of mush you used to call a brain, I'm giving you all of me, and you're gonna take it,” he growled menacingly before he once again pulled out and snapped his hips against hers, driving himself fully into her.

As Terry continued his unforgiving pace, pressure, and tempo, Mila's cries grew louder and increasingly incoherent. Her previously slurred cries for mercy turned to a symphony of sweet nothing that was punctuated by the brutal force of his hips and low hung balls slapping against her body. His dick pounded in and out of her, arranging and rearranging her insides. Every sense of coherence had been fucked out of her with every brutal stroke.

“Whose fucking pussy is this?” he growled, gently kissing her jaw as he continued to fuck her like he hated her.

Mila, however, was too far gone to form a cohesive thought let alone a sentence. Unsatisfied with her incoherent babble, Terry his hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed hard enough to blur her vision. “I know you're too cock-drunk to think right now baby, but I need you to answer me when I ask you a question. I know my polite little princess is still in there somewhere,” he said softly as he purposefully constricted her breathing before letting go for an answer.

“It's-it's…yours, baby. All yours,” she choked out between gasps for her air and lustful moans to Terry's satisfaction. He rewarded her with an even more unforgiving stroke, which she swore drove her soul out from her body, before returning to his original pace.

Fists wrapped around the ruined satin sheets, Mila found herself nearing her third orgasm of the night. Her vision had begun to blur and her legs had begun to numb.

“Terry, I-”

“Go ahead sweetheart,” he grunted, not faltering even once.

Once again Mila found herself washed under an abyss of pleasure and nothingness. Her head spun as a sinful cry tore from her lips, her pussy clenching around Terry making him close his eyes and growl before regaining his composure.

Terry's pace slowed as she came down, allowing her a brief moment to stew in her third wind. Her erratic breathing grew calmer and calmer as her loud moans quietened into whimpers. Terry peppered a few more wet kisses across her chest, up her neck and to her ear.

“God I missed this shit. I missed fucking this pussy numb. I missed hearing you scream when I'm inside you. I missed the way you look when you're drunk on this dick. Kinda like right now, my sweet, beautiful, dick-dumb princess,” he said as he continued to kiss all over her, soft strokes lulling her into a false sense of security.

“...missed you too baby,” she muttered, barely above a whisper while she tried to collect herself.

Mila felt Terry pull out, assuming they had reached the aftercare segment of their little show. She hummed as he gently began to massage her left calf, relieving it of any tension while kissing it softly.

“You know, you've been such a good girl for me tonight; being obedient and taking me so well like the sweet little slut I know you are. Made me think about ending it here, running you a bath and making something nice for you and your friend before you fall asleep,” he said as he put her calf over his shoulder, repeating his actions with the right one.

“I mean just by looking into your eyes, I can tell there's nothing left in there. You look like you'd pass out if I gave you anymore,” he pointed out, making Mila nod in agreement. Honestly, she could use a hot bath and a good meal. As much as it was only the first round, it was also the third orgasm and it had been brutal. All of that for the first time in 7 months had taken her out pretty early.

“But then I thought, ‘nah, fuck that’.”

His words made her eyes snap open as he gently placed the next calf over his shoulder. He began to lean in, effectively folding her body in half. “We've both waited too damn long for this shit. You cried for this, I killed for it. And I don't know about you, but I feel it would be a waste if all of that was just for you to tap out after one round,” he said, his tone darkening with promise in the last sentence.

Without warning, he pushed into her, fully driving his huge dick back into the depths of her guts. The pained yet lustful cry that tore from her throat made him chuckle darkly.

“I did tell you this was gonna be a long fucking night for you.”

[81pastrys]

Hi I have a request for dad Lando where his teen daughter (or son idm what kid just preferably teens) comes home from school where she did like a mock test in schl and one of the physics questions mentioned F1 and Lando as an application question. But I can just imagine her coming home and telling Lando how weird that was. I saw this one tt that was a F1 physics question and got inspired 😂

(idk where u live but I'm from England and we have these mock exams where we get scenarios and we just have to apply our knowledge to the scenario in question idk if it's the same everywhere but just wanted to clarify 😭)

The Mock Exam

Summary— Luka comes home and tells Lando about his Mock Exam

Warnings— he curses like once ; max and Lando curse

A/N— I do in fact live in the US so I had no idea what that was but thank you for the explanation!!! (I also did my own research)

Dad Lando List

Luka was studying his ass off for his Mock exam, yeah it wasn’t the real exam, but he really wanted to do good so he could race. Lando was streaming at home with Max while Luka was at school stressing out.

He got the exam and read each question carefully and answering to the best of his knowledge. It was easy for the most part, simple scenarios. He got to one and audibly laughed.

“Quiet please Mr. Norris.” The instructor said. Luka mumbled an apology and answered possibly the easiest question on the sheet. He had to explain how aerodynamics works in cars. He had gotten this lesson from his dad multiple times.

Possibly his longest answer was that one, going into details about slipstreams and such. He finished the exam and was dismissed. He got home and set all his books down.

“Luka!” Lando called out. Luka followed the sound to the game/office Lando had set up. “Hey, how was school?” Lando asked, slightly focusing on his gameplay with Max.

“I think I did good on my mock exam, there was one question about car aerodynamics.” He was kind of excited to tell Lando. “I wrote like an essay on it.” He laughed.

“I bet, I’ve explained it to you a million times.” Lando laughed. He died in game and looked at Luka now. “Jeez you’re tall.” He said, sitting in his gaming chair looking up to his 16 year old was a different view of Luka.

“I don’t know where I get it from.” Luka shrugged jokingly and Max laughed on the other end of the call. “Oh shit, Max is on?” Luka asked. “Sorry, language.” Lando tapped his son’s head and smiled.

“Hope you don’t speak to your mum with that mouth.” Lando said. Luka and Max talk gaming and Luka takes his dad’s spot to show off. Max would include Luka in gameplay when Lando was busy.

“Dad what is this setup?” Luka asked. “It’s horrible.” He changed Lando’s settings and played like a pro gamer. “Another question on the Mock exam was about computer setups, I think I aced that too.” He causally mentioned. Lando laughed at the off topic comment and watched his son play.

“Ahh I’m dead, they’re in that blue warehouse.” Max said. Max was streaming live and his screen was focused on Luka’s. The stream, Lando, and Max watched Luka 1v3 and win. “Good shit.”

“Alright, alright, enough of you playing on my account.” Lando said, jealous his son was better than he was.

“I’ll join in a minute, I’m hungry.” Luka said, giving Lando a fist bump and heading out to make food. Max laughed and Luka spun around. “What?”

“That’s definitely your kid, he eats the entire fridge and then just fucking sleeps.” Max says. Lando laughs at the call out and Luka rolls his eyes.

Max and Luka stream anyone?

@il0vereadingstuff @chertik-007vvv @pandabiiissh

[evidence-based-activism]

Individual men aren't equally predisposed to committing rape. men are approximately 49% of the population and commit 80% of violent crime. The correlation to testosterone to physical aggression is indisputable -- this correlation between masculinization and aggression exists even in women.

These antisocial behaviors are the subverted, shadow aspect to the more predominant masculine (even in masculine women) urge to provide and protect, which entails necessary and selective objectification and aggression.

“There is no female Mozart because there is no female Jack the Ripper.” is what Camille Paglia said. Genius, she argues, takes obsession, which produces good and bad talents and skills. Women fall in the middle of the IQ spectrum and men on the ends.

Social forces are certainly at play, but I want to stay focused. trauma or other external factors may serve to explain, but not excuse behavior. Feminine crime is more likely to be focused on family -- children, partners, elders, and others in the immediate family.

https://time.com/2921491/hope-solo-women-violence/

Women are at least equally as likely as men to initiate DV. 40% of victims in a DV study in America were men. Women are at least as likely as men to abuse their children and are the perpetrators in at least half of child maltreatment cases. Lesbian couples also have the highest rate of DV -- 44%, compared to 35% of straight women and 26% of gay men.

Anecdotally speaking, I was abused physically and psychologically by my mother, who was abused physically and psychologically by both her parents. I was also SA'd by a man. Both sexes have their share of degenerates who harm others. Whether their personalities or social experiences are masculine, feminine, or somewhere in between likely has an effect on how they express their violence. Everyone who commits a crime against another should be held accountable, I just disagree with the dichotomy that men are assumed to be perps and women are assumed to be victims.

I'm going to respond to this in parts.

"Individual men aren't equally predisposed to committing rape."

No, no one is ever equally predisposed to anything since that would require the confluence of innumerable, mostly unknown, factors. I have never made this claim; I don't of anyone who has ever made this claim.

"Men are approximately 49% of the population and commit 80% of violent crime."

This technically true in the USA [1]. However, it also leaves out the fact that men account for closer to 90% of homicide offenders in the USA and closer to 95% of homicides worldwide [2]. And those statistics don't even consider the fact that many female homicide offenders were acting in self defense. Men also account for closer to 90-95% of all sex offenders [3].

That is to say, a greater proportion of women's offenses are "simple assault" than men's [4]. (Simple assault is generally defined as either a threat of physical harm without any actual harm or minor acts of assault without resulting injury like slapping someone, grabbing their arm, or spitting on them.)

All in all, men commit the vast majority of violent crime and an even larger proportion of serious violent crime.

"The correlation to testosterone to physical aggression is indisputable -- this correlation between masculinization and aggression exists even in women."

No, no it is not, and no it does not.

This meta-analysis [5] found a correlation of 0.08 between testosterone and aggression. To be clear, a correlation score can range from -1 to +1, with -1 indicating a perfect negative correlation, +1 indicating a perfect positive correlation, and 0 indicating no correlation. A correlation of 0.08 is an extremely weak correlation.

Another, more recent, meta-analysis [6] found a 0.05 correlation between aggression and testosterone and no statistically significant causal effect of testosterone on aggression. Changes in testosterone were weakly correlated with aggression (0.16) and this was only in men. Importantly, this result may have been influenced by publication bias (see the study for details). Again, to be clear, they found no evidence of a causal connection between testosterone and aggression.

The lack causal connection is important, as some research as presented in this review [7] and meta-analysis [8], suggests that behavior/external events (like winning a competition) can increase testosterone. This raises an important question: can acting/being aggressive independently raise testosterone? If so, (and it does appear likely) then men who choose to act aggressive may be raising their testosterone levels; when recorded in a correlational format this results in the positive (albeit weak) correlation discussed above.

Here's some other, single study results:

In women, performing (acting out) a performance of power, whether in a traditionally masculine or feminine way, increased their level of testosterone [9]

In men, testosterone increases both pro-social and anti-social "status enhancing" behaviors [10]

Testosterone is associated with both "socially dominant [note: not necessarily aggressive] behavior among high-status persons, but strategic submission to seniority among lower-status persons" in men [11]

Testosterone is associated with greater pro-social behavior in women [12]

In an animal (male gerbil) model, testosterone caused prosocial behavior depending on "current social context" [13]

All in all, the correlation between testosterone and aggression is (1) not indisputable, (2) extremely weak, and (3) doesn't appear to apply to women.

"These antisocial behaviors are the subverted, shadow aspect to the more predominant masculine (even in masculine women) urge to provide and protect, which entails necessary and selective objectification and aggression."

Anon ... no. First of all, you appear to be treating "masculine" behavior as if it is biologically innate - for which there is no evidence - rather than socially determined.

You act as if women have not been "providing" since women existed. As if women haven't been involved in growing and domesticating plants and animals, haven't been taking care of children, haven't been growing and giving birth to all the children in history. Even the traditional "feminine" role emphasizes "providing" and "nurturing" the family.

I have the exact same comments for "protect", but more importantly: protect from what anon? From the weather? Bears? Disease? No. It's men. Men protect women from other men and then expect us to be grateful, as if it isn't men who have created the need for protection.

Beyond all that: even if the "masculine urge to provide and protect" were a real thing (and not something women have always been involved in), it still would not necessitate the "selective objectification and aggression". This argument isn't even logical ... why would "providing" need objectification? If there were no aggression what would be left to protect?

"There is no female Mozart ... "

Absolutely hilarious example to choose, anon. Meet, the female Mozart: Maria Anna “Nannerl” Mozart (his sister) [14].

And here's some other female contemporaries of Mozart [15]. I suggest Google as a resource to find more.

"...because there is no female Jack the Ripper."

While it is true that the number of male serial killers does outnumber female serial killers (and the disparity is even wider for those who kill specifically for sadism), there have, in fact, been some.

"Genius, she argues, takes obsession, which produces good and bad talents and skills. Women fall in the middle of the IQ spectrum and men on the ends."

I find the argument that obsession -> genius to be very concerning, and don't expect there are any sources on that. In particular, serial killer IQs tend to follow the same range as non-serial killers (source in last linked post).

And no, the idea that women fall in the middle of the IQ spectrum is not supported by high quality evidence.

This extensive multi-country review [16] on math performance found that the "variance ratio" (the measure for what you're describing) varies widely between countries and is related to social inequality. This suggests the differences in variance are a result of environmental not innate differences.

This longitudinal study [17] claims to find differences in girl's and boy's IQ scores, but the differences found are within the margin of error of the test. This means that a sex difference is unlikely to exist, and is, at the very least, not reliably measurable. It also suggests that any difference in the variance of IQ scores, is very small. (And see above for possible alternative explanations of this difference.)

"Social forces are certainly at play"

Yes, as indicated above.

"but I want to stay focused."

Focused on what??

"trauma or other external factors may serve to explain, but not excuse behavior."

Agreed (mostly). They may serve as a partial explanation yes, but people can experience trauma or other hardships without engaging in violence.

"Feminine crime is more likely to be focused on family -- children, partners, elders, and others in the immediate family." + [The link]

Correct, most crime by women is aimed at people they know. See above posts (when I spoke about homicide) for further discussion on this.

The link is an anecdotal source on this topic, again, refer to my earlier discussions.

"Women are at least equally as likely as men to initiate DV. 40% of victims in a DV study in America were men. Women are at least as likely as men to abuse their children and are the perpetrators in at least half of child maltreatment cases."

This is completely false. The idea that women perpetrate domestic violence or child abuse at similar rates as men, is a misogynistic myth.

See this post for an explanation. Also, this source [18] discusses the topic of women and domestic violence perpetration; I plan to eventually make a post on this topic, but in the meantime that source is an excellent place to start.

"Lesbian couples also have the highest rate of DV -- 44%, compared to 35% of straight women and 26% of gay men."

This is also a myth. A misogynistic and homophobic myth.

I'm not sure where you got those specific numbers, but I believe the origin of the myth started in the one of the CDC's reports on "Victimization by Sexual Identity" [19]. See this post for an explanation on why you shouldn't use this data to try and estimate perpetration. (Short version: it isn't weighted to be representative of the perpetrator population.) For the intimate partner violence portion in particular, it shares the same issues I describe in my post debunking the last two myths (i.e., reliance on the CTS and issues there within.)

More importantly, they don't report on the sex of the perpetrator for domestic violence, so we also have no idea if the lifetime prevalence rate of domestic violence is a result of prior relationships with a man. Data on other forms of victimization support the possibility, with 73% of lesbian victims reporting only male perpetrators of any contact sexual violence and 90% of lesbian victims reporting only male perpetrators of rape. In addition, 52% of lesbian victims report only male perpetrators of stalking.

This BJS report "Violent Victimization by Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, 2017–2020" [20] shows a similar rate of intimate partner violence for homosexual and heterosexual individuals. Importantly, however, this combines male and female homosexual individuals into one category, so we don't know the specific rate for female homosexuals.

"Anecdotally speaking, I was abused physically and psychologically by my mother, who was abused physically and psychologically by both her parents. I was also SA'd by a man."

This is terrible, and I hope you are safe and able to heal.

"Both sexes have their share of degenerates who harm others."

Sure, I mentioned the female serial killers. Notably, however, if you take a random sample of "degenerates who harm others" the vast majority are men.

"Whether their personalities or social experiences are masculine, feminine, or somewhere in between likely has an effect on how they express their violence."

I do not know what you mean by this. Socialization definitely plays a significant role in why men are so much more violent than women, but "feminine" men can and have been as violent as "masculine" men and "masculine" women have been as non-violent as "feminine" women.

"Everyone who commits a crime against another should be held accountable"

Yes.

"I just disagree with the dichotomy that men are assumed to be perps and women are assumed to be victims."

Anon, you started this ask by acknowledging that men commit 80% of violent crime (and I clarified that men commit 90+% of serious violent crime). This disparity is significant enough that it is perfectly reasonable to treat violent crime as a gendered phenomenon.

There are always exceptions and outliers. The existence of these cases does not invalidate the trend, nor should they deter the generalizations needed for meaningful class analysis.

Now, if you want to advocate against violence in general, draw attention to "male-on-male" violence and work to reduce it, that's also reasonable, and I wish you luck with your endeavor. (In all likelihood, feminist activism will - and already has - reduced male-on-male violence, even when it wasn't a specific target.)

But you still need to acknowledge that violence is primarily the domain of men. You also need to recognize that feminism is a movement by and for women. Our focus will always be male violence against women.

References below the cut:

Alexandra Thompson & Susannah N. Tapp. (2023). Criminal victimization, 2022 (307089; Criminal Victimization). Bureau of Justice Statistics. https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/criminal-victimization-2022

Homicide and Gender. (2015). UNODC United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime.

McCartan, K. (Ed.). (2014). Responding to Sexual Offending. Palgrave Macmillan UK. https://doi.org/10.1057/9781137358134

Lawrence A. Greenfeld & Tracy L. Snell. (2000). Women Offenders. Bureau of Justice Statistics. https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/women-offenders

Archer, John, et al. “Testosterone and Aggression: A Reanalysis of Book, Starzyk, and Quinsey’s (2001) Study.” Aggression and Violent Behavior, vol. 10, no. 2, Jan. 2005, pp. 241–61. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/j.avb.2004.01.001.

Geniole, S. N., et al. “Is Testosterone Linked to Human Aggression? A Meta-Analytic Examination of the Relationship between Baseline, Dynamic, and Manipulated Testosterone on Human Aggression.” Hormones and Behavior, vol. 123, July 2020, p. 104644. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/j.yhbeh.2019.104644.

van Anders, Sari M., and Neil V. Watson. “Social Neuroendocrinology.” Human Nature, vol. 17, no. 2, June 2006, pp. 212–37. Springer Link, https://doi.org/10.1007/s12110-006-1018-7.

Geniole, Shawn N., et al. “Effects of Competition Outcome on Testosterone Concentrations in Humans: An Updated Meta-Analysis.” Hormones and Behavior, vol. 92, June 2017, pp. 37–50. ScienceDirect, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.yhbeh.2016.10.002.

Van Anders, Sari M., et al. “Effects of Gendered Behavior on Testosterone in Women and Men.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, vol. 112, no. 45, Nov. 2015, pp. 13805–10. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1509591112.

Dreher, Jean-Claude, et al. “Testosterone Causes Both Prosocial and Antisocial Status-Enhancing Behaviors in Human Males.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, vol. 113, no. 41, Oct. 2016, pp. 11633–38. PubMed Central, https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1608085113.

Inoue, Yukako, et al. “Testosterone Promotes Either Dominance or Submissiveness in the Ultimatum Game Depending on Players’ Social Rank.” Scientific Reports, vol. 7, no. 1, July 2017, p. 5335. www.nature.com, https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-017-05603-7.

Casto, Kathleen V., and David A. Edwards. “Testosterone and Reconciliation Among Women: After-Competition Testosterone Predicts Prosocial Attitudes Towards Opponents.” Adaptive Human Behavior and Physiology, vol. 2, no. 3, Sept. 2016, pp. 220–33. Springer Link, https://doi.org/10.1007/s40750-015-0037-1.

Kelly, Aubrey M., et al. “Beyond Sex and Aggression: Testosterone Rapidly Matches Behavioural Responses to Social Context and Tries to Predict the Future.” Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, vol. 289, no. 1976, June 2022, p. 20220453. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1098/rspb.2022.0453.

Walker ·, Karla. “Who Was the Female Mozart?” Colorado Public Radio, 18 May 2022, https://www.cpr.org/2022/05/18/who-was-the-female-mozart/.

Hidden Herstory: Mozart and His Female Contemporaries - Women’s Philharmonic Advocacy. 22 July 2022, https://wophil.org/hidden-herstory-mozart-and/.

Kane, Jonathan M., and Janet E. Mertz. “Debunking Myths about Gender and Mathematics Performance.” Notices of the American Mathematical Society, vol. 59, no. 01, Jan. 2012, p. 10. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1090/noti790.

Lynn, Richard, and Satoshi Kanazawa. “A Longitudinal Study of Sex Differences in Intelligence at Ages 7, 11 and 16 Years.” Personality and Individual Differences, vol. 51, no. 3, Aug. 2011, pp. 321–24. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/j.paid.2011.02.028.

Michael S. Kimmel. (2001). Male Victims of Domestic Violence: A Substantive and Methodological Research Review. The Equality Committee of the Department of Education and Science. https://vawnet.org/material/male-victims-domestic-violence-substantive-and-methodological-research-review

Chen, J., Khatiwada, S., Chen, M. S., Smith, S. G., Leemis, R. W., Friar, N., Basile, K. C., and Kresnow, M. (2023). TheNational Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey (NISVS) 2016/2017: Report on Victimization by Sexual Identity.Atlanta, GA: National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Truman, Jennifer L., and Rachel E. Morgan. Violent Victimization by Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, 2017–2020. Bureau of Justice Statistics, June 2022, https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/violent-victimization-sexual-orientation-and-gender-identity-2017-2020.

[bimboficationblues]

I find it odd to claim (as Talia Bhatt seems to) that radical feminism is defined by its dominance-based social constructionist theory of gender. I agree with some version of that theory of gender, but it seems non-exclusive to radfem accounts of gender, even in its origins (Beauvoir is kind of an edge case but I think she has some demonstrably different commitments). Part of this seems to be the result of folding “radical feminism” and “secondwave feminism” together conceptually in spite of the fact that the second wave was an ideologically diverse landscape (which is acknowledged explicitly in the piece but then kind of papered over by the argument).

But the account here is that the radical feminists had genuinely figured something out, had developed a robust social theory of sex and gender, but for a variety of psychological death-drive reasons lapsed back into essentialism, making common cause with people like Daly, when it came to the Shemale Question. what this misses for me is

1) that there were substantive weaknesses within radfem theories already, from which transmisogynist positions are easily derived. many located sexual dimorphism as the causal force behind patriarchy, and identified sex-conflict (ie, NOT class conflict) as the root of oppression; indeed, this is what was supposed to distinguish them from the Marxists and socialists they were reacting to.

2) that at least some of the hostility to trans women was intermingled with or developed from the radical feminist sexual politics, or at least the post-Sex Wars calcified version (as the movement, again, had a lot more intellectual diversity originally). particularly with the fixation on the symbolic or representational aspects of sexual subordination.

3) if part of why we want to return to radical feminism is because of its recognition of domination and power, unlike liberal feminism which is overly obsessed with contract and law, then it seems relevant that radical feminism increasingly turned into legalistic reform programs like those pushed by MacKinnon (“end-demand,” human rights approaches to banning pornography, etc.)

This seems to be a way of rescuing radical feminism from its problems by externalizing them.

anyway I find this kind of eternal return to “what if we bring back radical feminism but in a trans way” very tedious. perhaps we should develop a transfeminism that does not have to be either reverent or terrified of the radical feminist spectre; one that is less fixated on resurrecting or preserving intellectual “traditions” and more on cultivating the feminism of the future.

[burreauxsss]

why me? part 2

background: a causal hookup turns into you becoming his baby mama, or so you thought.

(all pics from pinterest, all rights reserved.)

notes: part 1 to the angst is here.

word count: 804

warning: this is a alternative universe, joe would never do this (most likely). time jump of 1 year later.

<- Part 1 -> Part 2

 

 A year ago, if someone told you that an NFL quarterback was going to get you pregnant and abandon you on the spot,ot you would have laughed in their face. But it happened, he tried to finesse you over text to keep silent for 18 years for a million dollars. Su, re it was stingy; you didn't take the offer. Joe realized that you also have hold of his career in your hands if this gets out to the public. One day if he just pissed you 

off just the slightest, you’d be on your couch making a five-part series about how bad of a deadbeat he is.

A few months ago, he knew you gave birth to his child, and he didn't care. As a single bachelor, he flourished out into the world during the offseason, started hooking up with multiple models (five of them to be specific) and went to Miami and LA frequently. Some teammates saw this as him branching out and opening up to the celebrity life. Others, thinking the fame had gone to his head in a horrible manner. The thoughts he had were ‘she would have taken the million dollars and been done with it’.

But one day, the state hit him with a child support payment out of his paycheck. Unknowingly, what happened, he complained. The clerk told him that you applied for child support to be taken out of his account, and he immediately knew you betrayed him. What kind of sick person could do that, part of his paycheck to you? It was all your fault that you were pregnant in the first place; the antibiotics you previously had for a medical issue backfired on your birth control. And while he never blamed himself, he always blamed you. 

You were never his type, allegedly,  he saw you as a release of pleasure; every month, you’d get flown in by him. The fact that you thought that you had a chance with him was horrifying in the meanwhile, many people on social media started comparing things, the features of the baby. The baby had Joe’s eyes, and definitely his nose at that, lots of people clowning him on social media for being a deadbeat, for telling you to hide that child from the world to save his career. 

During the summer, his dad and brothers sat down with him and told him that he needed to make things right. So the next day at training camp, he did as you came to watch him as he requested. The first thing you noticed is that he buzzed and bleached his hair again as you held the baby, who so graciously watched their father run drills and sign autographs. He saw you and waved. Furthermore, soon after training camp, he knew he had to confront the fears he had had for nearly 2 years. So, meeting you in your car in the passenger seat with the baby in your arms as you parked and fed in a secluded area away from the public to protect your emotional health from the cameras.

“Y/n, I wanted to talk to you. I know it's not perfect that you're here with my baby, and the baby is wearing her deadbeat father’s jersey, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for offering you money to hide the baby from the truth, I'm sorry for being selfish.” Joe said while he was looking at you and the baby.

“I don't know Joe, you told me the truth a year ago.. You never loved me and never will do-” 

“No. I'm a horrible dad, I know you won't forgive me, but just give me one chance at being a dad. It hurt me that I wasn't there at the birth.” He noticed the tear in your eye as you looked down to avoid it messing up your mascara. “Don't cry, baby, I can't watch you do that.” He says, swiping a tear from your face.

You nod and give him the baby. She looks at Joe and somehow relaxes into him as she gets held.

“What's her name?” He speaks

“Kailani Marie.”

Joe looks at Kailani and sees the similarities that social media talked about. Her beautiful blue eyes shone right at him when she opened her eyes again. Her nose is just like his, with a head full of brown hair. She was just a mixed version of him with a slight enhancement of your features. He jokingly asks, “Whose last name does she have?” 

“Yours.” Your voice echoes in his mind, and a few tears rise up into his eyes.

“Why mine? I've never  been around ever.” The now blonde mumbles

“Because she deserves it. She deserves to know eventually that her dad is #9, one of the best players in the NFL.” 

y/n

❤️ 1m 💬 82,918

Liked by: joeyb_9 theshaderoom duexmoi and others

y/n: my little life.

username_1: so joe IS the father??

username_2: the baby...

username_3: okay bodyyy!

duexmoi: 🍵 y/n: i know my body is tea, stay out of my stuff.

joeyb_9: ❤️ *liked by creator*

*load more comments*

joeyb_9 posted a story

caption: K ❄️

notes: how do we feel about this..

[inthefoxholes]

veilguard, i hated it.

So i finally finished veilguard, and guys, what. a. shitshow.

So apart from the fact that it feels like a half-finished game (which it probably is), I mostly hated it on two accounts: 1) the overall lore implications (we knew this from this reddit q&a, but I'm still angry, and I won't stop talking about it) BOTH in regards to previous games and this one and 2) how this was not at all a roleplaying game. (sorry, english is not my first language and I'm tired and enraged)

Let's look a little closer, shall we.

One: The Lore Implications. This pisses me off in two ways:

First, the amateurish attempt at a "clean slate". This is just so insulting. If they wanted to make a game without any of that icky baggage, then the should have chosen a new ip for this. I get that it's complicated after three games with a lot of moving parts, I get that the decision to move away from southern thedas was an attempt to curtail a lot of this, but COME ON. Walls of nonsensical (seriously, they read ai created) text from the inquisitor, that mainly tell you that everything you fought for, all the people, all the places, is gone? And not for effect, not for the story, entirely offscreen and nonsensical, just so the writers don't have to care for this anymore? This does NOT get me invested into the story. No mention of who your Divine is; no mention of who sits on the orleasian throne - and it should matter, shouldn't it, whether or not your EXILED the grey wardens, whether or not you have an elf with a SPY NETWORK close to the orleasian throne, whether or not you DISBANDED the inquisition. All of that does influence what happens on the world state, or at least it should. (And if you want to ignore it, why not do in a way that's less obvious, less bad, why not have your protagonist be someone with no ties to the inquisition, who genuinely does not know whats going on in the south? Why have a world state when you don't want anything to do with it?)

Second, and that's even worse: you cannot take a fully established world, and then alter it to your weird specifications. THE FUCK you mean, there are no slaves in Minrathous, the goddamn slave capital of the world?? Why THE HELL is there a whole questline where we try to find disappeared people, snatched from the street for the ritual, when it should be perfectly possible to buy a few batches of slaves and have them express delivered to your ritual site. (So we can show up and fuck up your slave operation.) But no - I get shamed when I don't save Minrathous?? Well, fuck you, Fenris sends his regards, I hope you all burn.

To this ties the overall simplificaton of the world: Nobody is really bad, just the few super bad guys, but they are so evil as to have no real motiviation, they are basically Thanos or otherwise racist cartoons (totally believable that the Qunari, or a sect thereof, would be on board with mad sorcery). They rest, they are good guys! The pirates are very mindful of cultural heriatages! The crows are just your friendly neighborhood assassins (I remember the stories Zevran told slightly differently), and, as assassins, they naturally wear uniforms, so you see them coming (as do the "secret" "underground" "rebels" from Tevinter). I'm not saying that everyone should be evil, but the fact that whole organisations are presented to us as benefical is so insulting, ESPECIALLY when it was always a point of pride for the Dragon Age franchise that it was morally complicated. There is slavery and poverty and darkspawn. NOPE, you can stand knee deep in blight, not a problem anymore. (if only Carver had known) There is racism against elfs. (well, as the elfs seem to be respnsible for EVERY problem thedas faces, from the veil to the darkspawn, maybe that was precient? - also, always nice to have everything tied in such a neat bow, everything tied to one ONE causality, that makes things really believable and realistic) The Templars are fascists, sure, but abominations are a problem that does not get solved easily. NOPE, not anymore! When before, even a spirit of JUSTICE got corrupted in this world (therby making the valiant and sublte point that abstract concepts rarely hold up well when coming in contact with messy reality), now you can be possessed by a demon of SPITE and HE DOES NOT DO ONE SPITEFUL THING AT ALL. Nice, if only the mages knew that, you just have to accecpt feelings or whatever and then everything's well. SO NEAT!

This brings me to point number two: Why do we play this game? The complex and previously established word is gone; what's left are cartoons thereof. And then, there's not even a hint of role-playing left. Why can't I be mean to Harding?? I loved her in Inquisition, now her overly-girly manner grates on my nerves and I want to be mean to her. I can't, i have to be everyone's friend. In the end, I cannot decide anything, except the slight configuration of the final companion armour (why would I care, I don't know these people, I could not ask them a single question), and some slight cosmetic change regarding Solas - there is not even talk about tearing down the Veil. We've come full circle back to Mass Effect 3 and the groundbreaking decision we get to make is what colour the magic space beam is gonna have. Except, Mass Effect 3 was still a much better game, because you knew your crew - in this game, I have acutally no idea why Rook should lead anybody, why anybody would follow them, and why the literal fate of the world should be in the hands of this bunch of (after 100 hours of gameplay) near strangers. There ARE narrative work-arounds for this kind of shit; the writers just didn't care enough.

There are a hundred more small things I could say about this, about the story (Solas' prison was made of regret and he wanted to put Elgarnan there?? Who feels very good about everything he does?? Is he stupid? And then everyone is so impressed about Rook getting out to quickly, but seriously, what the fuck did Rook have to feel regretful about? They did not get to make a single decision. They did not order anyone to sacrifice themselves; they did not use people, or cities, as pawns in a war or whatever, BECAUSE THIS GAME HAS THE EMOTIONAL DEPTH OF A SMALLISH PUDDLE) and the in-game approach to the player (how often do i have to be told that i need to take care of my companions business?? This got so repetitive and made them seem like imcompetent children. Why wasn't there a better way to make me care, or better yet, trust the player to want to play this game), but I stop now. Fuck Bioware and EA.

[transmutationisms]

i'm chronically ill and still take covid precautions and lately i feel super alienated from most people i know. not alienated as in angry, but genuinely like i live on another planet. is this just garden variety ableism i'm experiencing or is there something else involved?

i guess i always expected leftists and other disabled people to care about COVID indefinitely to some extent, but that's kind of not what i've noticed IRL or online. i'm just surprised that my life has diverged so drastically from people i expected to be on the same page with. i can never predict who still cares about COVID and who doesn't anymore. i can't seem to find spaces IRL or online where i can genuinely connect with like-minded people also who live the way i do and can empathize - doing risk calculus, wearing masks, constantly looking for accommodations. i've learned so much about disability politics in disability spaces and now i'm the one of the few people in them trying to avoid infectious diseases and i just don't understand where that divide came from. i feel like people care but they also don't care and i can't wrap my head around it.

honestly i don't think individual attitudes about public health measures are the causal fzctors in general & i don't think therés much point to beating yr head against the wall about them bottom-up like this 😬 if masks were mandated then they would be ´normalised', if sick leave were actually given & guaranteed then it would be ´normalised' not to infect everyone at work, &c &c. i think casual individual attitudes toward covid & infectious disease in general tend to follow from a social-legal situation in which they're institutionally treated as insignificant, more than the other way round. the us is also doing its damndest to incubate bird flu as the next pandemic & to give measles one billion chances to mutate and spread and nobody gaf either lol. plus the institutional public health establishment has at no point ever messaged or legislated appropriately re: post viral syndromes so it's not really surprising to me no one takes them into account in risk calculus. & people tend to use past responses to infectious disease to gauge how they should be reacting to current ones eg laxity around covid following basically the same behaviour patterns as established laxity around influenza. epidemics/pandemics for the entire 20th and 21st centuries have ´ended' by actually continuing to fester and kill vulnerable people while the wealthy protect themselves & go about their daily lives, it's not really any surprise to see the same with covid imo. just my 2c

[g1rlken]

obsessed/possessive felix catton 🫣

Oh. Oh absolutely.

Anon you’re so real for this one🤞

-

Obsessive felix

word count: 1.3k (one shot)

Warnings: the req +sorry if he gets a bit toxic

-

For someone who grew up with a second pair of everything irreplaceable items were rare for felix. Or people, most relations superficial, nothing money can’t buy. That’s why she was different. He had to work for her, to be noticed to gain her affection. As unusual as it was for him he didn’t mind it.

Before they even started dating, it was difficult for felix to try and get her attention. They had different majors and one friend group in common most of whose gatherings she rarely joined. Occasional weekends here and there. He asked about her around, causality came naturally to him so most didn’t suspect a thing. Her lectures, her schedule, library visits, he memorised it all within a time span of a few days.

Felix would pick up the book she’d be returning at library, at first it was only to get an insight to what she’s interested in. What she reads in order to strike a conversational of coincidentally having same interests. However her long kept book smelt like her fragrance. It made him question his sanity halfway through a book on fluid mechanics if he was trapped by the contents of the book or the scent of her from it, it was the latter.

Much pinning, much accident meetings later they’d finally hit off. From his own past patterns and experiences in romance felix knew he would feel less and less intensely for her once he’d have her. She surprised him. As did himself, his feelings grew much more intensely than decreasing.

He felt wholly consumed by the being of her and it still felt not enough. He wanted to be drenched like the sand by the sea during a storm, he wanted her to be the rays that open his life like the petals of a morning glory flower. Because in one sense she was the answer to his glory, the glory he’s had to work for. One he wanted to announce to the whole world that she was his and the one he wanted to shield from the whole world because she was his. And his only.

She brought a sense of grounded serenity with her, in the morning with her locks softly spilled over his chest as she’d sleep through her first alarm which would evidently wake him up before her but he’d be glad. Because it would result to let him have his most cherished moment, the softest of mornings with her in his arms. The second alarm would only make him hold her tighter, not wanting to let go off her so soon.

One would forgo and turn a blind eye to a lot of things for love, his tender love came at the expense of his intense one as well. Though he was the softest of lovers, with her behind closed doors. It could most certainly be felt being with him however at certain instances it could be accounted for just how fiercely he loved. Aggressive make out sessions at the party, if someone stared at her a bit too long. It got awkward at times, in his lap or against the wall in a crowded dimly lit room. Not for him of course, it could get overbearing at times though. “You always pull something like that!” She complained as they returned from this one party, felix thought his possessive traits were subtle.

“Like what? Like kissing you? My girlfriend?” He questioned with a scoff as he removed his jacket and hanged it on the door hanger inside her dorm room.

“No-but a whole make out session? There were people around!” She complained trying to reason with him, had she felt uncomfortable with it she could’ve told him during it but it wasn’t that. Yet there was something she couldn’t pinpoint or maybe chose not to.

“It was a party” he scoffed as he walked over to her and pulled her closer to him by her waist to pause her whining, “it’s common to make out with your girlfriend at a party.”

She pulled away from his grasp, not wanting to have the firmness of the conversation she was trying to have be dismayed “No it’s always like this, especially at parties. You basically manhandle me the entire time-“

“Manhandle you?” He stopped her midway, scoffing at the sound of her baseless proponent “Really? So dancing with you, kissing you is now manhandling you?”

“It’s not, but your arms around me, kissing my neck, trying to kiss me while I’m in the middle of a conversation with someone that’s so unideal.” She advocated for what she was trying to say, she knew he was always big on physical touch and she never once minded it. However it wasn’t the first time it had happened where she’d try to have a normal conversation with anyone and felix would kiss the nape of her neck as she’d talk, pull her into his lap if she was sitting next to him. Completely disregarding whoever she was conversing with.

“So having a conversation is much more important than being close to me?” He asked, his tone was mild and composure relaxed but he felt border line offended.

“That’s not what I’m saying…” she sighed rubbing her eyes for a second, “you know that’s not how I’m saying it-“

“—Oh no please enlighten me how much of an inconvenience it is if I kiss you in front of other people!” Felix interrupted her.

“We just seem like that obnoxious PDA couple everywhere we go! And it’s not just this party or parties in general-everywhere you just…” she trailed off looking for the right word.

“Suffocate you.” He filled in for her with a scoff and looked away from her crossing his arms.

“No.” She replied firmly “No you just get overbearing. Where does that come from, talk to me.”

“Do you seriously want me to justify myself for wanting to be close to my girlfriend? Do you hear yourself?”

“Do you hear yourself felix!” Exclaiming she sighed regaining her composure, “Its like you can’t stomach the fact that I exist outside of this relationship, why can’t you just commute and tell me what’s your issue?”

“You don’t get it do you?” He let out a dejected scoff and approached closer to her, “it is fucking infuriating to see you paint me out like I’m irrational-I’m not impulsive because I’m madly in love, y/n, I am madly in love with you and I know exactly what I’m doing. To safeguard what we have, after you the most precious thing that’s happened to me is our relationship. We come off as an obnoxious couple? I come off as possessive? Fuck it.” He stated confidently as he took her hands in his, “I care about you, your sense of self and individuality is very dear to me and I’m sorry if you feel otherwise. I’ve never been in this place before where losing someone would worry me but losing you terrifies me to my core. I’m not irrational, I'm maybe rational to the point of obsession. But I am just a man who loves you more than anything in this world.” His gaze never lifted off of her eyes the entire time and he felt a bit surreal having confessed his all-consuming, all-encompassing love for her. There was a sense of vulnerability in being freed of the truth.

“Felix…” she breathed as her gaze softened, his flaws were the same as hers in a different dynamic and he was rough around the edges but now after what he confessed? She saw his love in a different much serious and committed light. Devoted. She looked down at her hands in his and back up at him with a soft smile adorning her face, she didn’t know how else to reply to him so she just leaned forward brushing her lips against his in a passionate kiss. He held held her in his arms lengthening the kiss.

“You’re mine. Mine to protect, mine to love, mine to cherish.”

“—Yours.”

[erenjaegerwifee]

The Selection

Chapter 2

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Tawakmi!Reader

Warning: explicit language, mentions of injury and lots of blood. (Please be aware of you are trigger by those types of things)

Word Count: 3.1k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged up! If that bothers you, feel free to scroll and do no interact with my account or any of my post. Index: mawey - calm

~ Hi everyone! I know it’s been a minute but I’m back with my second chapter! I’m in uni and it’s kind of difficult to manage both my degree and this but I am very passionate about writing and if I disappear I promise I will always comeback! No worries but I do appreciate your patience on this so so so much n I love you all!

Series M.List | Main M.List

It has been a week, an entire week at the Omatikaya clan. Your hair was not having it, everyday you would wake up extra early jus to make yourself look presentable and not a frizzy mess. You would call your mother everyday while you did this and talk about the day before and all your activities.

For the pass week they had you all settle in properly and get a layout of the clan, which for lack of better words, was incredibly beautiful. You had met some hardheaded chicks who were clearly sour about the fact they no longer had the chance to wow Neteyam, not that it worked out for them before otherwise why would they have held this competition in the first place? But everyone was mostly kind, it truly would be an amazing clan to be apart of if Neteyam choose you.

Today was different though, today you all got the chance to leave the clan and go on a hunting trip, it was only a few hours and close to the clan considering none of you knew the terrain. But other experienced omatikayan hunters which included Neteyam and Lo’ak would be accompanying you. The clan was not in dire need of meat otherwise why would they choose now to take you. Considering not all the girls were hunters they figured they wouldn’t come back as much. You’d finally get to explore the forest up close, to say you were excited was an understatement.

To keep the hair out of your face you braided it in the omatikayan style, thanks to Kiri, and it fell beautifully down your back, because of how full naturally curly hair was, the braids looked full as well. You dressed in a simple halter style baby blue top that held your chest properly for all the activities you’d be doing today and a loincloth to match, not that you cared to much, but it definitely enhanced your curves a bit.

You walked down the stairs following Ni’alu who wore a cute green top and loincloth, it was causal Ike your choice of wear. The other two girls, along with Neteyam, Lo’ak and their parents were waiting for you both. "Finally, we have been waiting forever!" Ma’via said in a sharp tone, “we are going hunting there is no need to get all dressed up” Lei’wa added.

“We look less dressed up than you, and maybe you should worry a little less about us and a little more on your hunting skills” you smile sarcastically at them both. Lo’ak turned his head and covered his mouth to stop from laughing, but Neteyam like his mother did a much better job at keeping composure. Neytiri who decided it was enough banter ushered us all out out the hut to go on the hunting trip. It was sunny out but still a bit cold since it was so early in the morning, so you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Maybe I should have dressed warmer” you laugh softly and Ni’alu joined in knowing exactly what you meant. “Do not worry ladies, when you start tracking, you’ll feel much warmer.” Lo’ak who overheard us butted in.

We started our journey into the dense forest that seemed to have no path but the omatikayan knew the terrain so well, navigating was not a difficult task. Neteyam and lo’ak introduced us to another man who hunted with them for the clan, just to have an extra set of hands and protection. His name was Ralu, he was tall like Neteyam but built more slim, his hair sported short braids.

The three men decided amongst themselves to split us up into groups in hopes of handling the terrain better. Neteyam took Ni’alu, Lo’ak settled for Lei’wa and Ralu was left with you and Ma’via. It was not a secret that the other girls including you, were sour about the fact that Ni’alu got to go with Neteyam, but we all split up into our assigned groups

As the hours passed, it became easier to make it through the forest. It was just as dense if not more, but it was equally as beautiful. It had just as much green as your own forest back at home, but you could clearly see the difference in diversity. The sun was close to setting through out our entire day of tracking we never actually came across an animal. You wondered if the other groups were having such bad luck. You weren’t mad about it though, you did enjoy getting to explore the forest.

“You know it’s impressive how well you’re keeping up, considering how you’ve never done this before” Ma’via said over her shoulder to you. “Never done what before?” you respond not knowing what she was implying. “Oh, you know, hunting, tracking like this in the forest, I’m sure being a performer and all you’d never want to do this type of stuff.”

“I’ve tracked before. I’ll manage” you say as you move a big leaf to walk on the path. Ralu who walked in front of us did not speak much just quietly lead us through the terrain. “Well see how long that last, tracking is not as easy as you think.” She says in an undermining tone. “You know you’re right; tracking isn’t easy. I guess that’s why only one of us will be able to keep up” you reply dearly challenging her in a calm way.

Your response seemed to have shut her up for a while, whether it’s because your words got to her, or she just couldn’t think of anything to say, you weren’t sure. But it didn’t take long for her to start testing your patience again, “woah did you see that?!’ she exclaimed, I raised my head to see what caught her interest.

“What? See what?” you start looking around in the direction she was facing. “I don’t see anything" you say as your eyes dart around the area. "Something just moved over there,” she pointed in the direction we were already looking but you saw no movement. “We should check it out” Ma’via suggested.

“I don’t see anything, we shouldn't stray from the path anyways, Ralu mentioned earlier we might be getting close to so actual prey” you told her, but she was already in her own head and didn’t hear a word you said, either that or she just ignored you. Your eyes dart from her form that was slowly straying and the leaf that Ralu just moved to continue on the path, disappearing behind it. You wanted to call out to him, but you had doubts, what if she did see something and your raised voice agitated it? Or what you scared away any close prey?

You groaned softly before following Ma’via on her side quest. “Ma’via, we should go back to the-” she suddenly cut off your sentence with a firm shush and you rolled your eyes. Your ears twitched softly against your braids trying to hear anything other than the rustling of leaves in the wind. Then you heard it, a low growl coming from some where in your vicinity. You weren’t exactly sure where and you briefly turned to Ma’via who had the same idea and you both made eye contact. You both silently agreed you heard it and your eyes dart back to the path hoping to see some sliver of Ralu.

Ma’via reached for her knife that was tucked away on her hip and you did the same simultaneously. Your eyes dart around nervously and your ears strained and twitched to hear any sound at all from the creature. You knew that neither of you were a match for one of the Omatikayan's forest creatures, especially since neither of you had any idea what it could possibly be. “I told you, I knew it was worth it,” she says, glancing over her shoulder.

You force a tight smile, your hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of your knife. “I didn’t know we were hunting for danger.” Before she can respond, the growl comes again, louder this time. Low, menacing, and close. Her expression falters. “I think it’s getting closer”

“I’m starting to think it’s not something we want to find out.” Your voice is steady, though the hairs on your neck stand on end. She brushes it off, clearly playing tough. “It’s probably just an animal. We’re fine.” But you feel the weight of the silence that follows the growl, something in the air shifting. Then, another growl—closer this time. Your voice firm as you take a step back. “That’s no animal I want to meet.”

Before she could say anything, a massive black creature pounces out of hiding, a palulukan. You’ve heard they inhabit this part of the forest, but you had never seen one in real life before they were incredibly terrifying up close, with their shape teeth and the way it menacingly blended into the surroundings. You take another step back, the creature looked as if it were readying itself to strike. Before you could get a word out to Ma’via the palulukan charged towards you and you instinctively jumped to the side landing on your stomach.

Ma’via however, was not so quick. The creature knocked her to the ground with terrifying force as she used both her hands to keep it from biting her face off. She let out a loud scream which only seemed to infuriate the creature even more. Before your mind could catch up with your body, in a blur of motion, you launched yourself at the creature showing it of her with your body weight.

You hit the ground so hard it sends you rolling tangled with the palulukan. Your fingers that still gripping the knife jammed it into the tough skin of the creature's side. Quickly you repeated the action as fast as you could until the creature was lifeless. Now that you could catch your breath, you noticed all the blood that oozed from the creature that was at least 3 times bigger than you.

The creature's body lies still, the only sound your labored breaths You sit up scanning for any more threats. Ma’via is still on the ground, her wide eyes fixed on you, too stunned to speak. For a moment, there’s only silence, the forest holding its breath. “Are you okay?’ you ask her.

Then, she blinks rapidly, as if trying to shake herself free from the shock. Slowly, she pushed herself up, her hands trembling slightly as she brushes the dirt off her legs. Her gaze flickers to the beast’s lifeless form, then back to you.

She looks away quickly, brushing dirt off her arm as if it’s nothing “you can handle yourself, I’ll give you that. But don’t think this changes anything. You’re still not getting Neteyam." Her voice was firmer again, her pride dearly intact, but something about her stance, the way she avoids meeting your eyes, suggests the guard she’s trying put up isn’t as strong as it used to be. You just rolled your eyes, “your welcome”

The sun had already set at this point and you both had no idea where you were, or how to get back to the clan. Everything looked different, every plant and flower, even some insects glowed beautifully in the night sky, like the stars somehow reflected down onto the forest. You couldn’t even find the path and back track as nothing looked even a little bit familiar, maybe it was because you felt distracted, adventure of being lost still pumped through your veins, you had no idea how you planned on making it through the night.

Ma’via sighed, “great, just great were lost. This is pointless" you roll your eyes scanning the area, “we just need to retrace our steps” you said quiet enough to not attract attention but loud enough she could hear you. Ma’via scoffs, “right because that’s so easy in the glowing forest when everything looks the same and different at the same time.”

You sigh, bringing your hands up to rub your face but quickly dropping them after you remember the blood they are still stained with, “look, arguing isn’t gonna help. We need to move before something else tries to eat us, at least find shelter and somewhere to clean up and keep warm.” Ma’via huffs but doesn’t argue, “fine, but don’t slow me down.”

You give her a dry look, “right cause I was the one getting attacked by a predator." She glares at you but doesn’t have comeback. Instead, she gestures ahead, "whatever, let’s just go.”

After what feels like hours of walking, the round of trickling water reaches your ears. You push past the glowing foliage, stepping into a small clearing where a narrow stream winds through the fore its surface shimmering under the bioluminescent light. Ma’via sighs in relief, "finally. Something useful” she kneels at the water’s edge, cupping a handful to drink.

You scan the area before crouching beside her, dipping your fingers into the cool stream. “We should stop here for a bit. Rest, start a fire.”

She hesitates before nodding, “yeah…. I gross that’s smart.” There was no biting remark, no smugness. Just agreement. You gather some dry wood while she arranges the stones, and soon, the flickering orange glow of the fire dances against your skin, a contrast to the cool blue hues of the forest. For a moment, it almost feels peaceful.

But then, a rustle in the underbrush. Ma’via stiffens, eyes darting in the dance direction as yours, towards the trees, “…did you hear that?”

Another rustle. Then, a low growl.

Not this again.

“Please tell me that was your stomach” you say without looking away from where the growl and rustling was coming from.

Ma’via shoots you a sharp look. “Do I look like I just swallowed a hexapede whole?” the underbrush shifts again, the sound closer this time. You pick up a long branch from the floor gripping it tightly in your hands as you slowly rise to your feet, “I was hoping for a yes”

Your relentless rival follows suit, her posture tense. “It’s probably just-” A deep snarl cuts her off then from the shadows, something moves. The growl deepened, it multiplied, there was more than one creature, they blended in so well you couldn’t see them.

The sounds vibrated through the air, the glowing foliage trembles as something stalks just beyond the fire’s light. You grip the branch tighter, shifting your stance. “More than one, and whatever they are, it’s getting closer”

You take a deep breath as your so-called competition says, “we can handle it, we did it before” you could hear the uncertainty is her voice, “you mean I, have done this before”

"Whatever, you really wanna show off now?!” she exclaims, and you roll your eyes. You know she doesn’t feel very confident right now and you don’t blame her.

The creature lunges and swiftly you swat the small, 6-legged creature away with the branch, it made a small whimper as it hit a nearby tree. Although before you could catch your breath, another creature attacked, jumping directly on you, you fell to the ground before you could retaliate.

The creature scratched and bit at your leg making you scream out in pain, at that point you didn’t care what you attracted, you wanted this thing off you. Ma’via swift kicked it off you and kneeled down by your body, now, you finally saw some hunter instinct in her. As the creature lunged back at her she donged, sending it flying behind her protecting your crying form beneath her.

She stabbed it as it came back killing it, “are you okay?!” her voice was panicked. “Do I fucking look okay Ma’via?!” you cry out holding the top of your thigh. She was about to an over, but the growls turned to snarls, nasty, scary snarls. Our eyes darted around us to see an entire pack of the creature circling, ready to pounce at any moment.

Just as a creature tense to pounce-

THWIP!

An arrow whips through the air piercing the creature mid leap. You barely register the blur of movement before Neteyam steps from the trees, bow drawn, another arrow already nocked. His golden eyes flick between the two of you, sharp with relief before it darts back up hitting another creature who lunged in our direction.

Ma’via and I stayed shocked on the ground and eternally grateful Eywa lead Neteyam to us when she did. Before he could pull another arrow, one of the creatures lunged at him, neteyam swung his bow swatting the creature away. He fired another arrow forcing the creatures back. Neteyam hisses, low and sharp at the creatures, it was loud and powerful, a clear warning to the pack to back off. Hesitating, the creatures slinked back into the darkness.

Neteyam kneels down on the other side of you instantly, cars flattening as he sees your tears, his brow forgotten as his hands hovered over you, “hey, hey, I’ve got you. Just breath” his voice was steady, but the worry was evident. His fingers gently grazed your high before hesitating afraid to hurt you more. “I’ll take care of you, I promise."

Your gasps become unsteady, and he cups your cheeks in an effort to calm you down, “Mawey, you are safe now.” He reassures me.

Ma’via steps closer, her usual arrogance gone. “She’s bleeding a lot.” He voice tight with worry, “it all happened so fast, I-I, is she going to be okay?” neteyam glanced up at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods, “she’ll be fine, but we have to get her back. Now.” He assures her but his tone was serious.

He doesn’t waste another second. Carefully, he slides one arm beneath your knees and the other under your back. “This is going to hurt,” he warns gently. Then with effortless strength, he lifts you into his arms. You grip his shoulder, wincing with a cry of pain but he holds you securely, his warmth steady against you.

Ma’via quickly falls into step with him making sure to stay close. Your head rocked back as you started to feel lightheaded. Neteyam pulls you up slightly so your head rest on his shoulder. “We’re almost there, stay with me” he says. You try to respond, but your body feels heavy, the pain in your leg throbs, a dull, dragging weight, and your eyelids flutter.

The forest lights start to blur together and fade. In your weekend state, his scent and warmth wrapped around you like a blanket and the last thing you hear is Neteyam's voice, lower now, urgent but still impossibly gentle. “I’ve got you.” before everything, went black.

🪸I again want to thank you for your patience in this wait for this new chapter and I promise more to come! I love you all and I promise to try harder to push out more work cause I have so many ideas for stories that I must get out of my mind! Please any feedback are welcomed and appreciated along with any idea you guys think I should put into the storyline! Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated and welcome!

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