#claiming benefits without even doing any work

[phaeton-flier]

If you really think Disney's loss would be a net benefit, then you're just delusional. The current status quo for artists isn't great, but one where Big Tech wins isn't going to change conditions in favor of working artists. All it means is that the current king of the kingdom of the media industry will change, and one that has even less of an interest in the well-being and livelihoods of workers than even Disney.

If artistic freedom and innovation could coexist that'd be great, but they can't ina capitalist society without enormous costs to the working class. I don't like taking sides in corpo legal battles because of that, but eventually we all gotta take the poison anyway since it's not like we can opt-out. At least we can hope for the least bad scenario.

How do you think the precedent from this case is going to shake out? Do you really think they're going to make an extremely narrow ruling that bans generating AI Images and nothing else?

Or will Warner Brothers and Disney push for the idea that creating an image of a copyrighted character, or having any amount of copyrighted material upstream of your output means it's all infringement?

Consider the frankly horrid state of IP law with regard to music, where even a brief sample is considered infringement, where having a small snippet of a song playing during a video means they can claim it as theirs?

The end result of Disney winning isn't going to be the AI bottle going back in the bottle; it's going to be them and other major IP holders being able to train on only their large, private stock of copyrighted work; the advantage this will give them, to any upstart competition or over human artists, would be huge.

Disney does not have your best interests at heart. They never have and they never will.

What benefits do you imagine are going to trickle down to artists, if Warner Brothers gets their way? Because, again, this isn't going to get rid of AI models, isn't going to change the job market. It's just going to make current (IP) capital holders more entrenched.

[randybutternubber]

Does anyone remember the little kid who hung out with Noone in the first episode? They were covered in black liquid that moved like smoke and I guess they were posing as one of the shadow workers in the factory. I haven’t seen any love for them 😭

I mean they probably look like a burnt hairball covered in tar but they were still very friendly considering they were in a fucking death factory and also IN THE WALLS

[aishi-toru]

GOJO SATORU [ 五条悟 ] ⟡✦ mdni — p in v (afab!reader), unprotected saxophone, breeding, he's filthy n pathetic, cussing, baby trapping(??), not proofread, pet names, im ovulating forgive me !!

even if he's never had one before, satoru believes that your body itself serves as an aphrodisiac—it has him so avid on the daily, he can't help the way his mind strays to, y'know... other things.

which is how you find yourself buried under his oversized frame, being pounded in missionary by the seemingly insatiable man.

"fuck- i'm sorry... so sorry, baby- i just have to cum inside," satoru whimpers so desperately it's pathetic, voice breaking and eyes saturated with tears from overstimulation; tears that you brought about.

you'd never think you could have the strongest in such a chokehold, but fate works in mysterious ways, it seems. it's not his fault, though! your pretty 'lil cunt just hugs and clenches around his dick sooo good, so tight, he just can't help it...

"it's okay, 'toru, give it all to me," you coo, your hand reaching out to caress his flushed cheek as you stare up to him—so lovingly, so sweetly, it has satoru orgasming in that very instant, letting out the most pornographic of moans.

his warm seed floods you as his angry tip kisses abuses your cervix, which is more than enough to have you gushing out literal buckets of cum.

his glowing, aquamarine eyes roll back as he feels your semen and his own envelope his cock, but oh... when they flicker down to where you and him are connected—not to mention, the white ring around the base of his dick—satoru goes feral.

his mind is then corrupted with thoughts of stuffing you so full of his seed, you can't even hold it all—the stream would drizzle down your thighs if you even tried to walk, which you wouldn't be able to by the time he'd be done with you.

without any warning, he starts thrusting back into you—mercilessly, vehemently, so good it was even mouth-watering. you can't hold suppress the whine that escapes you when the depraved man on top of you tells you just how fervent he is when it comes to you—with his hips, that is.

and now, he's imagining you claimed as his property—wearing his initials on a necklace instead of the snowflake pendant adorning your skin currently despite the fact that you bought it because it reminded you of him, the big fat diamond ring he'd propose to you with, and the huge streamline of gifts he'd be sure to give you.

he takes a mental note to tell you just how much he loves you, even though he's doing that already— he's just too lost in the sensation of you to be able to realise.

but, wait! it seems that satoru has forgotten that you and he are only friends with benefits... eh, it's whatever! he'll surely make you his someday, if not right now considering how he's repeatedly pushing his cum back into you.

[goblincow]

Sure you can imagine why I don't have the energy to alt text this, though if someone else reads it and thinks it's worth it I think that would be very kind.

Would love to see a future in which our political leaders are all disabled (you can read that either way, regardless it would be an improvement).

In light of the news that disabled people in the UK will soon be finding out if our right to access the payments that make us able to work and/or be alive at any given time will be stopped in a blatant human rights violation and escalation of class warfare, I wrote something.

I am keen to learn how bad my personal human rights violation is going to be.

A reminder that benefits fraud has been less than 0.001% (DWP record it as "statistically insignificant") for over two decades.

It feels unresolvably strange to know that even if I call it a human rights violation (it is) or class warfare (it is) or an unprecedented escalation of the stochastic mass murder of disabled people (it is) there are many members of my family & friends who will not be able to stop themselves from dismissing me as over-reacting or be willing to take any action on my behalf, who will certainly not do as I say or as I do: the "model retard" speaks out of turn.

While I predicted this move happening roughly now in 2020 (consistent across several governments, I wonder why) nobody believed me because disabled people who speak for ourselves are not to be listened to, even by our "advocates" – I'm conscious that this experience of active marginalisation is one that I have heard many people express, most notably trans folx in my spaces, in part because a significant part of the disabling effect is not in Impairment itself* but Dis-Ability as a verb, an active process, as in: "what are you Dis-Abled of?"

The answer to that question is always ACCESS: to spaces, to support, to healthcare, to quality of life, to agency, to basic necessities, to community, to advocacy, to our own bodies and minds.

No wonder I hear experiences from trans folx that read to me as explicitly Disabled experiences, and it's no coincidence that our shared enemies who scapegoat the lot of us use the same tactics and violences across the board – profit invented eugenics, so the two go hand in hand.

*I have also seen many physically disabled people rightly express their frustration in people like myself speaking over them on this topic, so I want to explicitly point out that people who experience "direct" disability more prominently as compared to those of us who could become functionally Abled in a context that is not hostile to our existence will always experience "Impairment" that is disabling in itself – not all Disability, not all Disabled people.

If you aren't aware of our history (and why would you be, they bury it with us), there is a great episode of 99% Invisible on the Rolling Quads, guerilla curb cuts & the early emergence of the disability rights movement in the US.

I struggle to tell this story myself because I get extremely emotional when I do, these people are heroes to me & we have legacies we owe to live up to.

People died for our rights – we must be willing to die to keep them or we will die without them.

[willowed-wisp]

NSFW ALPHABET [ simon ‘ghost’ riley]

Just my opinion based on how Simon comes across in the games. It was quite fun to interpret it. Hope I didn’t do too bad of a job ����

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ghost would be more closed off to a one night stand, so it’s lucky if you even get his name let alone for him to stay after the sex.

As for in a relationship, he cares so deeply that if he’s jackhammered you he’ll find himself gently massaging your sore pussy- you did take him ‘so well’ after all (his words)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He used to hate his arms, all the scars he had endured but he paid good, well earned money on his sleeve tattoos. And with encouragement from his partner- he likes them.

As for you, your face. He rarely gets to see all of his own, so seeing your face in any sense is a blessing. For intimacy it’s a luxury to see your brows screw up and lips parted. He knows you don’t have the same benefit of seeing his ALL the time.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes the idea of claiming you by coming inside but the idea of children in a world like this… it scares him. Even if you’re on birth control… too much of a risk.

Simon loves seeing you on your knees, lips pink and raw after finishing down your throat. And you better be swallowing- he doesn’t like tryna get stains out of the bedsheets.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to fuck you in close quarters to the rest of 141, and use his balaclava as a gag to shut you up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Simon is said to be in his earlier to mid-30s and doesn’t have as much experience as the others but you’ve never complained about his skill before. He’s a quick learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

ADVANCED MISSIONARY; As said before, he loves your face. So something front facing but spicier than missionary- legs on his shoulders… laid flat on the edge of the kitchen table with him stood ploughing into you.

AGAINST THE WALL: Simon loves knowing it’s all him giving you pleasure- you clung to him for dear life. Nails cutting into him and limp from the waist down, he’s not shy when it comes to pain… not that kind anyway.

DOGGY: The only exception to him not facing you is when you’ve been teasing him all day long. He loves the roughness and how much of you he can feel at that angle. Intoxicating.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simon goes Ghost mode during sex. It’s a scale of kinda serious to don’t talk kind of serious. Depends on how long he’s gone without it. If he’s on leave and it’s on the couch during movie night and you clash teeth- he’s so serious about it but when you start laughing, his eyes go puppy dog and he joins you in hysterics.

He can be very goofy so he has that side when his guard is down.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He likes to keep in tidy down there, not completely shaven but nothing to stop you from giving him sloppy head.

He has light eyelashes but the hair is so short you can barely see the true colour - a blondish brown colour.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like most things with Simon, he truly depends on what mood you catch him in. He’s a chill guy, he’s the type to get you gifts without making a big deal about it.

He just wants your sole undivided attention, that’s romance in his eyes. Having a connection with you, spending time with you. So he’s kissing up your body, and eating you out like there’s no tomorrow without expecting you to return the favour.

Simon is all about eye contact, kissing and making you feel special in the moment. So I guess you could call him a pinch romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Being away from you is a death sentence, but the mission is work. That doesn’t mean LT doesn’t jack off, to images of you riding him or panting beneath him, when he’s in the shower.

Off duty he has you, he doesn’t need to jack off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BONDAGE: Hands behind your back, tied with his belt. Or he doesn’t mind, he knows how to break out of ties anyway.

VOYEURISM: Loves watching you masturbate, revels in it because he knows he’ll have you coming on his cock in the next few minutes.

DOMINANCE: Not in an unhealthy way, he’s a BIG guy (and he uses it to his advantage). Caging you in and hitching you up at his waist, repeating the words, “Who do you belong to?” “Who makes you feel so good?”

And the answer every single time is ‘you, Si.’

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nowhere public, there’s a reason he wears a mask in public let alone being caught with his dick out.

His favourite may be a wall, especially if Soap is staying in the guest room… because the master bedroom is beside it. Ghost is territorial like that, you’re his.

The bed is too comfortable for him when he’s initially back. Simon will hold your hips and watch you bounce on his dick while his back is on the fluffy carpet. Carpet burns were worth it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kissing his tattoos- man this guy gets pent up when you do that. All the way up his arm, through to his chest. Do this and you will find his trousers tented and tight.

Ghost is very susceptible to touch, he spends so much time trying not to get hit by stray bullets or by fists that when he lets his guard down- he really gets turned on by crotch palming or kissing. Makeout sessions quickly become a night long sex fest.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hates being blindfolded, absolutely despises it. Even when relaxed it’s difficult for Ghost to just be Simon. He likes being able to see you, his PTSD comes in play there.

Also, another no no, is you wearing a skull mask or himself wearing it in the bedroom. When he’s at home, he doesn’t even want to remember what happened in the field. Let alone bring it into the most vulnerable position he’s gonna be in. He may even draw the line at face coverings in general.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As said before, he couldn’t care less if he receives. Only that he makes you cum at least once.

Don’t mistake that for him not liking blowjobs, he loves it- again, a touch thing but he would rather watching you come undone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Like a lot of things with Simon, it depends on his mood and it you can handle it at the time.

Simon is a kinda soft dom because he cares about his significant other and doesn’t want to hurt you but if you can take it… you’d better find something to hold onto. Legs and abdominal muscles galore- he is a tyrant if you wish it.

But he doesn’t need to do that ALL the time, he can do soft and gentle just as well. Deep, powerful thrusts… letting you adjust after a couple of rounds.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If you’ve been teasing him, he will pull you into a restroom and have you drooling and seeing stars.

He prefers to have his time with you, to get you well adjusted for his size by fingering and then eating you out. Dragging out orgasm after orgasm to get you to relax.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t normally like fucking in public, but as said before- if you touch him in the right places and tell him how hot you are for him… let’s say he will find a dressing room or bathroom stall (within reason) to stop his hardness.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Have you seen this man? 6’5” and muscles for days… Simon has a LOT of stamina.

The first week he gets home you’re lucky when he’s not inside of you. He can go multiple times a day for an average of two hour sessions. He likes to take his time with you.

Quickies wise about 6 rounds in a row.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Simon’s not a fan of toys. Doesn’t own any and doesn’t plan on buying. He’s sure in his abilities and when you a moaning mess impaled on his cock- he’d say you’re quite satisfied.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Edges you from time to time and make you beg for some release. But that’s only when he’s in one of his sarcastic moods- mostly after he’s hung out with Soap.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not obnoxiously loud, but not quiet. His voices get a bit higher or goes lower when he says your name. Holding your hair while you’re on your knees, choking on his cock. It’s kind of addictive.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Your smell. Purposefully buries his nose in the crux of your shoulder in general. Especially when so close to his release- you’ve been squeezing his size continuously for the past five minutes and the scent of you, not your perfume or shampoo, can toss him off that cliff.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Above average at about 7.5 inches, but thick. No wonder he indulges in extensive foreplay before fucking you. He’s the perfect size, nothing too extreme but hits the correct spots.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s touch starved on missions and doesn’t fancy asking the boys for that, so he’s pretty horny. You don’t help dressing all pretty in white lingerie the day he gets back.

On a scale of 0-10, Simon is an 8-10.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Simon finds it difficult to sleep in general, only after a day’s fuck fest is he worn out enough to sleep soundly. Next to his partner.

[its-avalon-08]

kiss and tell (cs55)

(in honor of our fav smooth operator's birthday!!)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - friends with benefits, jealousy, comfort

It all started in Singapore. The city was electric that night, the lights from the Marina Bay Street Circuit casting a mesmerizing glow over the entire island. The race had been grueling, one of the most challenging of the season, but Carlos Sainz had come out on top, crossing the finish line first and claiming victory. The celebration that followed was nothing short of euphoric.

The entire paddock was buzzing with excitement as the night unfolded, but amidst all the chaos, Carlos only had eyes for one person—Y/N. She had been a part of the McLaren team for a while now, working closely with the drivers and crew, and over time, a comfortable camaraderie had developed between her and Carlos. There was always something more beneath the surface, though, an undercurrent of tension that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

But tonight, things felt different. The champagne was flowing, the atmosphere was light, and the barriers they usually kept firmly in place were starting to crumble.

Later that night, after the podium celebrations, the party had spilled over into one of the swanky hotels overlooking the Marina Bay. The drivers were mingling, the music was loud, and the drinks were even stronger. Y/N found herself at the bar, nursing a cocktail when Carlos approached, still riding the high of his win.

“Not gonna lie,” Carlos said, leaning against the bar with that trademark smirk of his, “seeing you out there cheering for me was the best part of the race.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Oh, sure, it wasn’t the adrenaline rush of winning or the thrill of outmaneuvering the other drivers? Just me?”

“Absolutely just you,” Carlos teased, his voice dropping to a low, flirtatious tone. “You looked good today, Y/N. Real good.”

She raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar warmth that always crept up when Carlos started flirting. “Careful, Sainz, someone might think you’re trying to get me into trouble.”

Carlos chuckled, taking a sip of his drink as he studied her. “Trouble? Who, me? I’m as innocent as they come.”

“Right,” Y/N replied with a grin. “Innocent like you didn’t just race at breakneck speeds through the streets of Singapore.”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” Carlos shot back, his eyes locking onto hers, the playful banter doing little to hide the tension building between them.

They spent the next hour trading flirty remarks, each one drawing them closer until the space between them was almost nonexistent. The noise of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing at the bar, caught up in a moment that felt like it had been building for months.

Finally, Carlos leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know, I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for cheering me on today.”

Y/N tilted her head, her heart racing at his proximity. “Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?”

Carlos’s lips curled into a slow, seductive smile. “I have a few ideas. But I think we’d need a little more privacy.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, the unspoken invitation hanging between them. She knew what he was suggesting, and she also knew she wanted it just as much. They had danced around this for too long—why not see where it led?

Without breaking eye contact, she downed the rest of her drink and set the glass on the bar. “Lead the way, Sainz.”

Carlos didn’t need any more encouragement. He took her hand, the heat of his touch sending a shiver down her spine, and led her through the crowd, away from the noise and the people. The tension was palpable, an electric current running between them as they made their way to the elevators.

When the doors slid shut, sealing them inside, the air became even thicker with anticipation. Carlos leaned against the wall, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at her. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

Y/N stepped closer, the proximity making her pulse race. “I think we’ve both wanted this for a while, don’t you?”

Carlos nodded, his hand brushing against her arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “Yeah, I have. But let’s keep it simple, okay? No strings, just…us, enjoying the moment.”

She hesitated for a split second, knowing that agreeing to this meant putting aside any hope for something more. But tonight, with Carlos looking at her like that, she was willing to take the risk. “No strings,” she agreed softly.

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor, and Carlos wasted no time in pulling her out, his hand gripping hers tightly as they walked down the hallway to his room. The tension was almost unbearable by the time they reached the door. Carlos fumbled with the keycard, his usual steady hands slightly shaky with anticipation.

Once they were inside, the door barely clicked shut before Carlos had her pressed against it, his lips crashing onto hers with a hunger that left her breathless. The kiss was everything she had imagined—hot, desperate, and filled with months of pent-up tension.

Carlos’s hands roamed her body, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Y/N responded in kind, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of them in a whirlwind of passion.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice rough with desire. “God, Y/N…this is exactly what I needed tonight.”

Y/N smiled, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, Sainz.”

That night was the beginning of everything—and nothing. They had agreed it would be no strings attached, just something casual between two people who enjoyed each other’s company. But as the weeks went on, and the nights like this one became more frequent, it was clear that the feelings they had been trying to keep at bay were only growing stronger.

But Carlos was determined to keep things light, not wanting to ruin what they had with complications. He told himself over and over that this was enough, that he didn’t need more. But damn, he thought as he watched Y/N fall asleep beside him, her face peaceful and content, I’m in trouble. Because I think I’m falling for her.

And that was the one thing he was truly afraid of.

time skip

The days leading up to that night had been a rollercoaster of emotions for Y/N. Carlos had a habit of making offhand comments about relationships that cut deeper than she’d ever admit. They were subtle, sometimes even playful, but each one was like a small dagger to her heart.

It was just a few days ago when they were sitting in the McLaren hospitality area, surrounded by the usual crowd of drivers and team members. Daniel Ricciardo had been teasing Carlos about settling down, something about how the Spanish driver was getting too old to be a bachelor forever.

"So, Carlos," Daniel started, a mischievous grin on his face, "when are you going to finally settle down and stop breaking hearts left and right?"

Carlos chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile. "Settle down? Nah, mate, I’m not ready for all that. Relationships are too complicated. I’m enjoying life as it is."

Y/N, who was sitting across from him, felt her heart drop at his words. She masked it with a forced smile, pretending to focus on her coffee. Of course he isn’t ready, she thought, Why would he be? But underneath the casual demeanor, it hurt more than she could admit.

Carlos glanced at her, his smile faltering slightly when he noticed the way her eyes had dimmed. Fuck , Carlos, he thought to himself. Why do you keep saying this stuff? He hated seeing that look on her face, the one she tried so hard to hide.

But then, he did what he always did. He pushed those thoughts away, shoving his feelings deep down where they couldn’t betray him. It’s better this way. She deserves someone who can give her everything, not someone who’s constantly on the move, constantly putting himself first.

Yet, when he was alone, away from the noise of the paddock and the constant demands of racing, his thoughts always circled back to her. He would picture her smile, the way she laughed at his jokes, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about. It made his chest ache in a way that was both painful and comforting. God, I love her. I’m so damn scared of how much I love her.

It wasn’t just the teasing from the other drivers, either. There were moments in between—when they were alone, when the world was quiet, and it was just the two of them. Like the time when they were sitting in the team garage late one night after everyone else had left. She was leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and the silence between them was warm, comfortable.

Y/N had looked up at him then, her voice soft and filled with an emotion that made his heart race. "Do you ever think about the future, Carlos? About…what you want?"

He had stiffened slightly, the question pulling him out of the comfort of the moment. He knew what she was really asking, and it terrified him.

Carlos hesitated before responding, forcing a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. "I don’t think too far ahead. I’m just taking things as they come, you know? No need to complicate things."

He felt her deflate beside him, her silence saying more than words ever could. It was in moments like these that Carlos hated himself the most. Why can’t I just tell her? he thought, his mind screaming at him to say something, anything, to ease the hurt he knew he was causing. But instead, he just sat there, pretending everything was fine. She deserves better. I can’t give her what she needs. It’s safer this way.

But it wasn’t safer. Not for him, not for her. Every time he said something like that, he felt the distance between them grow a little wider, the connection that had always been so natural starting to strain under the weight of unspoken words and buried feelings.

They were friends with benefits, nothing more. At least, that's what they told themselves. Y/N knew she was in too deep; her feelings for Carlos ran far deeper than casual. But every time she tried to bring it up, Carlos would brush her off with a charming smile and a playful comment about how he wasn't ready for anything serious.

As the night progressed, someone suggested a game of spin the bottle. The group erupted in cheers and groans, the perfect mix of nerves and excitement. The bottle spun, pointing first to Y/N who blushed, much to everyone's amusement.

Then it was Y/N's turn. The bottle spun, clinking against the floor as it finally slowed down, the neck pointing directly at Lando. The room erupted in playful cheers and wolf whistles, while Carlos froze, his smile faltering just for a second.

Y/N glanced at Carlos, her heart skipping a beat, but he had already turned his attention away, a coldness settling into his features. She could see his jaw clenching, the muscle ticking angrily, but he said nothing.

Lando leaned in with his usual cheeky grin. "Guess it's us then," he said, his tone light and playful, trying to make the situation as un-awkward as possible.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding, but not for the reason everyone thought. As Lando's lips met hers, what was supposed to be a simple, friendly kiss quickly shifted. Lando, sensing the tension in the room, deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of Y/N's neck, pulling her closer.

The room fell silent, the air thick with a sudden intensity. Lando's kiss was anything but innocent—it was slow, deliberate, and filled with a surprising passion. Y/N's hands instinctively moved to his chest, gripping his shirt as she found herself kissing him back with equal fervor. She could feel Lando's heartbeat beneath her fingertips, the heat of his body against hers.

(a little carlos pov)

As Lando leaned in for the kiss, Carlos’s internal monologue went into overdrive. Don’t do it, don’t kiss her like that, don’t touch her like that. She’s mine, for fucks sake! Why can’t you see that?

He watched as Y/N responded to Lando’s kiss, her hands on Lando’s chest, their bodies too close for his liking. That should be me. I should be the one holding her like that, kissing her like that. But I’m the one who keeps pushing her away. This is my fault. I’m going to lose her, and it’s my own fucking fault.

The kiss went on longer than it should have, and with each passing second, Carlos felt his control slipping. His heart pounded in his chest, anger and jealousy swirling together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much it’s tearing me apart. But I’m too scared to say it, and now I’m losing you.

(out of carlos pov)

Carlos watched, every muscle in his body tensing, his breath catching in his throat. He tried to look away, but he couldn't. The kiss was more than just a game now—it was a reminder of everything he was too afraid to claim.

When Y/N finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, her breath unsteady. Lando kept his hand on the back of her neck for a moment longer, his thumb brushing against her skin as he gave her a small, knowing smile. "Well, that was something," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn’t from Lando's touch. It was from the cold, icy glare she felt burning into her from across the room. She turned to Carlos, who was no longer just silent—he was seething. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of anger and something else, something deeper.

Carlos pushed his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. The room fell silent, all eyes on him. He stood up, his expression cold and unreadable. "I'm going outside for some air," he muttered, storming out without another word.

Y/N felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She excused herself from the group, ignoring the curious glances, and followed Carlos outside. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. Carlos was leaning against the side of the motorhome, his back to her, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Carlos," she called softly, but he didn’t turn around.

She moved closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "What's going on?"

Carlos finally turned to face her, his eyes blazing with an intensity that took her breath away. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with anger.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. "It was just a game, Carlos. It didn’t mean anything."

"Didn’t mean anything?" He repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure didn’t look that way."

"What are you talking about?" Y/N asked, her voice rising in frustration. "You’re the one who said you weren’t ready for anything serious. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away!"

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, his expression torn between anger and something else—something deeper. "You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for that?"

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "Then why, Carlos? Why do you keep doing this?"

"Because I’m scared!" Carlos exploded, the words ripping from him like a confession. "I’m scared of how much I care about you, how much I need you. I’m scared of what happens if I let myself love you and it all goes wrong!"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She had waited so long to hear those words, but now that she had, they were wrapped in so much pain and fear.

"I’m already in love with you, Carlos," she said softly, her voice trembling. "And it’s killing me that you don’t trust me enough to let me in."

Carlos closed his eyes, his face contorted in anguish. "I don’t want to lose you, Y/N."

"Then don’t," she whispered, stepping closer until they were inches apart. "Don’t push me away anymore. Let me love you, Carlos. You don’t have to be scared."

For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at her as if trying to decide whether to take the leap. Then, with a shaky breath, he reached out, pulling her into his arms. His lips found hers in a kiss that was anything but friendly—passionate, desperate, and filled with all the emotions he had kept bottled up for so long.

When they finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you, Y/N. I’m just…scared of how much."

She smiled through her tears, cupping his face in her hands. "Then be scared. But be with me. We’ll figure it out together."

Carlos nodded, his heart finally beginning to thaw. "Together," he repeated, sealing the promise with another kiss.

[venusincleo]

aligned.

chapter one. the way.

Warnings: MDNI • Explicit • Terry Richmond x Black!OC, Self!Insert, a lil fluff, just introductions. 

Summary: Right place, right time. When Cleo meets Terry, the rugged pretty boy, at the club on a celebratory night, it seems like the first in a string of divinely twisted moments. But will fate be enough to move their love along, or will they have to weather some storms before their happy ending?

Word Count: 1.3k❣

A/N: Hiiiiii! Long time no... read? lmaoooo but i hope you enjoy this first part of aligned. 🤭

• • •

It had gotten to the point where she just didn’t care anymore. She didn’t look over her shoulder to see if some fine man just so happened to be watching her, or peer across the room to stake her claim over a stranger. It was no use. She was always the last to get picked for anything good; the last of her family and the last of her friends. Of no fault to them of course.

It may have been her quirky way of saying things, her very singular interests, or how serious she could get about the things that mattered to her. That always seemed to intimidate people; her intensity.

But at this point in her life, Cleo had begun to pull her energy back inwards, and focus on herself for once.

She honed in on what her style was, her favorite nail shape and color, how she loved to wear her hair. She focused solely on the things that brought her joy; that benefited her and no one else.

Cleo was so effective, she even figured out how she wanted to use her purpose, and began on the path she dreamed of. It was as if she suddenly found herself living by her mother’s words: the mark of a woman is her signature. So that’s what she found. Her signature scent, her signature look, her signature way.

It wasn’t her intention to lure him in, or anyone for that matter. But when you live in your own world, and love it? You’re bound to have a few tourists.

Terry’s eyes scaled the live club, carefully moving from the bottom level to the top to scope out anything unusual. It was apart of his routine: every hour on the hour make sure everything was secure on the property, and keep a keen ear out for any distrubances. But as the Head of Luxe Nightclub security, he found that he’d seen more inch long skirts, pasties for shirts, and aching feet than any actual fights. It was a perk.

Easy work from now on was the goal, a way to still do some good without the fear of constantly being on the frontlines. He had subordinates for that.

As he rounded the club, examining the partiers and human mannequins alike, he made his way back to the front, where the hour just hit 11:00 p.m.

Three girls shuffled into the door from the cool spring air, all of their brown skin was glistening to perfection, dresses seemingly tailored to their exact sizes, and hair befitting to all of them. The guard that was stationed at the door quickly ran the handheld metal detector over all of their frames, and as Terry made sure to keep watch of anything he may have missed, his eyes met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She was like the median of the group; not the skinniest nor the thickest, but fine as hell. Her hair consisted of dark locs that fell just past her shoulders, her deep brown skin was covered in a few tattoos along her arms, and her little black dress clung to her most promising assets.

Though he didn’t want to stare, he found his eyes stuck on her, noticing her d-cup breasts that sat under her low plunge neckline. And then there were those eyes. Almond shaped yet big, and sort of doe-like. Even though she looked like she belonged, her eyes stood out; as if she was the most innocent girl in the room.

Those very eyes flickered up, catching his gaze as she got past the entryway of the club.

Cleo blinked in his direction, taking in the sight of him. His eyes seemed…green? And…blue? Teal maybe? She didn’t fully know, but they were gorgeous, feline even and starkly juxtaposing the serious scowl on his face. But judging from the vest and stealthily holstered gun, she figured he had to look that way.

Had to look menacing just in case someone wanted to try something while he was on the clock. Had to watch her for a full minute as she walked past to find her and her friends’ section.

Throughout the night, she completely forgot about the tall man. She drank, and danced, then drank again. Soon, she could feel the bass of the hip-hop songs playing in her body, and she let the liquor take away any inhibitions she had around gettin up on the small table within their section. As Saweetie’s voice blared through the speakers, Cleo swayed happily, prompting her friends to cheer her on.

Mrs. Make it Happen, doing numbers got em pissed!

She pointed her forefingers at herself as she sang along, and all of her friends jammed right with her. The whole club erupted in different voices singing the lyrics, and she smiled at the atmosphere.

Arch yo back, toot it up, damn I’m cute as fuck!

As Cleo followed the instructions of the line, her friends screamed even louder, glad that she was finally letting loose.

Terry could hear the happy screams across the room, his ears perking up at the sound. He had finally gotten himself to stop staring over at the goddess of a woman that he saw walk in, and now everything in her direction was pulling him back in.

Allowing himself to glance over, he saw a figure higher than all the rest, and on a double take, his brows furrowed as he realized who it was. Her. Dancing on the table with all of her friends egging her on.

Though he loved the sight of her twerking her ass to this melodic rap tune, he couldn’t be caught letting a liability slip under his radar. He walked slow, wanting to let her have her moment, but as he watched on, her other friend got on the table as well, and then another girl from one of the other sections nearby. Gotdamnit. Terry sped up his steps, and as he walked up on the table, he looked up at the woman in awe.

“Excuse me, I’m gonna need y’all to get off this table.” His deep voice projected in the loud room, and even though everyone heard him, only Cleo looked down. Her body didn’t stop moving, she swayed to the end of the song as the DJ mixed it with something else, but she couldn’t help but smile at the man who seemed determined to get her down.

A ghost of a smile met Terry’s face as he reached his hand up, and she put her hand in his, instantly feeling his warmth as she stepped down carefully. Finally at the height that her heels afforded her, Cleo looked up at the tall man, curious about his continued eye contact.

“You gotta be careful, these tables ain’t meant to handle all’a that.” He flirted absentmindedly, giving her a quick look down her body and back up to her eyes.

“Mmh, are you?” Cleo retorted, Hennessy and sass lacing her words.

“Hell yeah.” When the short woman’s smile grew, Terry realized his mistake. Shit. He really didn’t mean to say that outloud. But as her eyes lowered and her smile faltered just a little, he didn’t feel an ounce of regret in his body.

“I’m Cleo.” She replies, following suit and looking him up and down. A scoffed chuckle from the man’s lips made her smile grow yet again, and he rests his hands in the straps of his bulletproof vest.

“Terry.”

• • •

I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

• • •

༓TAGLIST༓

@motheroffae @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @mymindisneverhere

*I just tagged a couple people but if you want to be removed or added, let me know in the comments.♡*

[littlemissmanga]

Unwind With Me

Pairing: Crosshair x (gn)Reader

W/C: 538

Summary: You're at your limit with your job. But luckily, Crosshair is an unlikely source of comfort.

Warnings: Some talk of work stress, but the focus is on the very indulgent comfort.

A/N: HELLO TUMBLR!!

It has been a long time since I posted, but I am finally writing again. Thank you for your patience. And I'll ask for a little more. I'm writing again, but I am taking things slow to avoid overextending myself.

So I figure I'd start with a warm, comforting Crosshair fic. This was what I fixated on to get over my own work stress this week. So I hope you find it helpful, too!

It's been a long day.

No, it's been a long year.

Just a million different moments spread across each day that began to stockpile in the pit of your stomach. Stress building like bile until the thought of another rotation made you nauseous.

"Just quit."

The voice may have been rough, the tone dismissive. But you knew Crosshair only said it out of concern.

You could see it in the way he hovered. Hear it in the gruff clearing of his throat as he refilled your water again and again.

He didn't like problems he couldn't solve. And your toxic job was top of that list.

"You know why I can't, Cross," you sigh as you settle further into the couch. Your apartment was small, but you do what you can to make it cozy. Usually. Lately you've slacked when tidying up. Another worry for the pile.

"Excuses."

He tosses the towel used to dry the dishes from dinner before joining you. Without asking, he pulls you from your nest into his lap as he moves to take your seat.

The moment his arms lock around you, your body melts. Not fully. Not enough to fix anything. But just enough to take the edge of.

Somehow, that is sweeter than anything else you could imagine right now.

"No, it's reality. I pull in a decent paycheck and I'll never be fired. Those are invaluable benefits. Besides, every job has office politics and dumbasses in charge."

He huffs and tucks your head under his chin, curling around you. You're so glad he finally got over himself and let you get close. Crosshair was so touch starved his craving for physical reassurance was higher than yours.

Thank goodness, too. It was selfish, but knowing he needed you even when you felt like such a failure gives you strength.

"You're hurting yourself," he rasps.

"I can take it." Your voice doesn't waiver, but a current of uncertainty shocks you. You can ... but it leaves you so tired. You feel like a shell of yourself most days.

"You're strong. But you don't gotta prove it."

You feel his lips brush against your hair. He liked burying his face into you. It made you smile every time. You return the favor, shifting in his arms to press into his chest.

"Nothing to do about it now. Just ..." You trail off and press a kiss to his collarbone. "Can we just say like this until I feel better?"

He doesn't answer you. Crosshair only reaches over to grab the remote for the holoprojector.

He puts on your latest favorite drama. Something to get swept away watching. Something perfectly distracting to occupy your mind as the soft warmth of Crosshair's body against your own relaxed your muscles.

Eventually, you feel yourself begin to drift off. You resist, unwilling to sacrifice any time with Cross before he has to leave again. But you can't fight the overwhelm of comfort he brings you. And he wouldn't want you to.

You're lucky enough to feel his cool lips press against your forehead before sleep claims you.

No matter what you have to face tomorrow, you know his warmth will be there to welcome you home after.

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite

@secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @multi-fan-dom-madness @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations

@sunshinesdaydream @wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @dhawerdaverd @mythical_illustrator

Check out my masterlist here.

[stxrvel]

the house (2)

hi guys! i felt so inspired that i was able to write part 2 soon and that's a very rare thing for me. thank you so much for all your comments and notes! they made me very happy. see you in the next one!

summary: Azriel wasn't gonna give in so easily with Rhysand, but he had to do everything he could to ensure his mate's well-being pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +3.5k warnings: bad words and fights and angst and a lot of anger. also English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!

part 1: the cliff

part 3: the court

part 4: the routine

“... what the fuck is wrong with me? No, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Az, I had no idea-”

“What does that fucking power works for if you're not gonna use it right?”

Cassian stood back from the commotion, with Nesta and Mor on either side of him watching from head to head as words crossed. Azriel was raising his voice and snarling at his own High Lord, and Cassian was almost surprised to see the way Rhys only dropped his shoulders, looking at his brother with sunken eyes as he claimed him. He had no intention of defending himself, Cassian could almost feel how embarrassed and remorseful Rhys was from a distance.

Azriel had a right to be angry, everyone knew that. And no one would stand in the way (unless the situation turned violent) because they understood the lengths you could go to just to safeguard your mate's well-being. Rhys would do it for Feyre. Cassian would do it for Nesta. Cassian always believed that this was how he would see Azriel defend his mate, right when he found her, and he was grateful that Rhys understood that his cries came from beyond rage and anger. There was anguish there, pain, guilt… Cassian had never seen Azriel so upset.

Returning to the Town House was torturous. Azriel wouldn't leave his mate's side and wouldn't allow any of his brothers to get close either, but she wasn't willing to go to a place she didn't know at all either, even if her mate accompanied her. Cassian had to watch his friend be more cautious and careful than ever with someone he never thought he had to be: with himself and Rhys. The sight was bleak as Azriel's shadows swirled around him and his mate, almost as if erecting a wall between the four of them. The looks Azriel sent them were like daggers and just by sharing a glance they knew that this was something the Shadowsinger wasn't going to overcome out of thin air, even if hundreds of years of friendship gave him the confidence to do so.

Azriel had to make a promise with her to convince her to leave, because he wasn't willing to let her disappear from his sight and she wasn't willing to just go with them for the sake of it, when one of the men in front of her was the one who pushed her off the cliff.

Cassian noticed several times Azriel watching the tattoo with crystallized eyes. Beyond everything, the hostile and distrustful context of the whole situation caused him pain.

Arriving at the Town House, they were all assembled. Without wondering too much without Rhys having spoken to Feyre (which he surely had), Cassian ran into the kitchen where Nesta was with her sisters and enveloped his mate in a tight embrace. Within seconds he heard movement around him and knew Rhys had done the same. Neither of them would ever be able to forgive each other for what had happened, if Azriel ever forgave them first.

“Az, I'm truly sorry,” Rhys stood behind his desk, the only thing that allowed him distance from a heated Azriel, besides Feyre's presence which the Shadowsinger respected even within his rage. “I was careless with the inmates. And you're right, it was easier for me to have simply looked inside her head. It had been a long time coming and I think I became confident of the reality of the situation, that whenever I saw inside them I knew what they were. I didn't give her the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry, brother.”

“Your apologies are worthless,” Azriel spat, his face almost red from the way he was trying to contain his emotions and his hands resting on the table. Rhys lowered his head in front of him, running his hands over his face. “How are you going to fix with your words what for years broke under your nose? How can I come to look at you with respect when my mate is terrified to see you?”

Cassian felt Nesta's hands wrap around his right arm and he lowered to look at her questioningly. She had reserved her comments from the moment Cassian had told the two sisters what had happened. Feyre had escorted Rhys to his office after their effusive hug and Cassian had stayed with Nesta and Elain in the kitchen, talking. With Elain it had been a little easier, her face looked mortified and she had run after Rhys and Feyre barely understood what had happened.

Nesta… she tried not to show what she was thinking, but Cassian knew there was something that made her feel upset and insecure.

Cassian tugged at the bond, trying to get her attention and Nesta had to drag her gaze from Azriel to look at her mate. Cassian felt the air rush out of his chest when he noticed the tears under her eyes. He didn't waste a second in leading her out of the room, moving into the giant living room in complete darkness, despite it being barely noon. The maroon curtains lent a more somber look to the situation.

“What's wrong?”

Nesta closed her eyes as Cassian's hands cradled her face, letting out a pair of tears that furrowed the border with her cheeks. A ragged breath left her and Cassian felt the agony of her nervousness shake his body.

“I had already seen her,” she whispered, her eyelids tightening. Cassian frowned, but didn't interrupt her when she came up for air again. “I once accompanied Rhysand and Feyre to the camp. Feyre had told me that Rhysand had some business to take care of on the mountain. I heard… I heard her voice…”

Cassian pulled his mate closer by the shoulders, pressing her against his chest as her voice broke off.

“I heard her voice begging Rhysand to believe her,” Nesta continued, trying to still the sobs that were born in the ache in her chest. Cassian shared the sentiment, the end of the bond in his chest twisting with his mate's wailing. “She was so scared…”

Nesta wrapped her arms around Cassian's torso, sinking her face into her mate's neck. Cassian moved from side to side, trying to send warm sensations through the bond, trying to calm her down a bit.

Nesta's revelation left Cassian almost frozen. The last time Rhys had gone to the mountain had been ten years ago.

-

Azriel hadn't expected that to be the way he would meet his mate, much less would he have expected her to be terrified to be around his brothers and almost himself and, of course, much, much less had he expected to hold so much resentment against Rhysand.

His mate hadn't left the room Azriel had left her in, as far away from the others' rooms as possible. With the tattoo burning his skin, Azriel had not only promised her that she would be safe in the Town House, but she had also made him promise that her interactions with his brothers would be next to none. With the watchful eyes of his friends from centuries ago upon his back, Azriel agreed. He had to make sure to provide for his mate's physical and mental health, especially when he knew that the time she had spent with the Ilyrian soldiers had to have been traumatizing.

And of course, there was also the issue of the bond.

His mate couldn't or didn't know how to control the flow of emotions that traveled through the bond and Azriel felt it all. At the moment she was relaxed, calm inside the room away from everyone, but Azriel was losing his temper in the living room. His friends were gone, they had left him a moment alone when he had finished yelling at Rhysand, as he tried to control his emotions and those of her mate, who had surely been listening to everything and so was sending distressing sensations through the bond.

But even with all that space to himself he still felt like he couldn't breathe.

He didn't know how things were going to be from now on. The mere thought terrified him to the bone. He didn't know how he would deal with the fact that he wanted and was dying to be near his mate, to hold her, to comfort her, to support her, to protect her just a step away from him, but he couldn't, at least for now. The need consumed him and tormented him. Staying behind had never been an option, especially if it was his mate, but what could he do if that was what she wanted? He would have to get used to the pain, the emptiness he already felt in his life even though it had barely been half a day since he had found her.

Ah, Azriel didn't know how much guilt and pain he could carry until his knees failed.

He closed his eyes for a couple of minutes, laying his head back on the couch, his face settled in the direction of the ceiling. He tried to relax his muscles, stiff from the tension and stress, from the speed with which everything had happened in the last few hours. Maybe then he could get some sleep. He didn't know how it would be now that he had found his mate.

Azriel was beginning to feel his body going numb, the inattention to his senses and the lightness of his limbs, when a pair of light footsteps entered the room. They would've gone unnoticed by anyone, but not him. He lifted his head attending to the sound, finding you on your feet, frozen, all around the entrance to the living room, hands clasped together twitching in nervousness.

Azriel didn't know what to do. His heart skipped a beat at the sight. But he also felt the fear and nervousness coursing through the bond from the other end. He tried to send calm through his end, hoping that and the shadows crowding at her feet, which hadn't left her since they found her, would allow her to relax a bit.

“I'm sorry… for interrupting,” you looked down and Azriel had to stifle the urge that went through his body to get up and go running to your side. His head filled with the memories of his dream, cruelly comparing the happiness that was in them and the sadness that now engulfed you. Your voice was barely a whisper.

“It's okay,” Azriel stood up carefully and quietly, catching your attention. From the way you brought your hands to your chest, still clasped together, Azriel made no attempt to move closer.

“I need to ask you something,” you fought with the words until you finally told him and a current of panic ran through the bond, so strong that Azriel had to hold back the grimace on his face.

“Whatever you need.”

You looked at him again and Azriel felt something in his chest blossom. He sent that feeling through the bond, hoping it would counteract the anxiety on your end, but only received a frown in response.

“I need to contact my parents,” you asked, shifting your feet a little closer and Azriel quickly caught the pleading expression you were trying poorly to hide.

“Sure. Where are they? I can take them a letter, if you want,” Azriel offered, but your reply wasn't welcome as a spasm of pain ran through his chest.

“No… I-I-I don't want that,” you shook your head, lowering your head. The way you moved your intertwined fingers made him question how much courage you'd had to muster to come out of your room and ask him that. You must've wanted it badly. Surely it was all you could think about for all the years you were on the mountain. Azriel moved his hand from side to side across his chest, through the fabrics of his clothing.

“We'll do what you want, then. Tell me where they are.”

“Adriata,” you whispered, eyes glittering.

Azriel choked. Of course, former prisoner of the Summer Court. How would he get across the border if he had a blood ruby in his desk drawer? Rhysand and he were still mortal enemies of the Summer Court.

“And how do you want to contact them?”

“I want to go back.”

“What?” he coughed, his body tensing and the calm evaporating from his body in a second. Surprise narrowly prevented him from noticing your crystallized eyes.

“Azriel,” you implored, taking long strides towards him, frozen in place, electricity coursing through his veins from the way you said his name. “I don't even know how long it's been since I last saw them. Please, please. That was all I've ever wanted since I was captured. I just want to see them and let them know I'm okay. Please.”

Azriel stood there on his feet in front of you, barely acknowledging the fact that you had moved so close to him that from just raising a hand he could run down your cheeks. Your request had torn at his chest and he was sure he hadn't been able to keep some of that emotion from traveling through the bond, because now you looked more disgruntled and nervous than before. Now you wanted to… leave? And you were asking him to let you do it, as if he had any right to keep you here, as if you owed him anything?

The Shadowsinger clasped his hands at his sides, trying to contain his emotions behind the line, trying to keep them from affecting you too much. He had never felt such pain, not even something he could imagine, nothing that had ever hurt him before could compare to the pain of that moment. He hadn't had a moment with her and he had to let her go already.

“You want to go back… to Summer Court,” Azriel murmured, trying to confirm the obvious, as if you repeating it made it more real, as if he needed it to be sure.

“Yes,” you shook your head in assent and Azriel's heart crinkled as he noticed your desperation. Of course that would be the first thing you would want to do, how could he have been so selfish as to not even consider it before? How could he not have suggested it from before?

“You… I don't… I mean-”

“Azriel,” you took another step, hesitant, he could tell by your body language, but trying to keep the assurance on your face. “I need to see them. Please.”

“All right. Just… wait,” Azriel moved to the side, trying to clear his mind and think rationally even though your closeness was suffocating him. “There's something you should know.”

“I know the Night Court and the Summer Court aren't on good terms,” you shook your head, as if to tell Azriel that it was a silly problem that should have no bearing on your return.

“Yes, but that's not all,” moving his hands away from his already sufficiently tousled hair, Azriel looked at you in anguish. “If you go back to Summer Court now, I don't think you'll be able to come back again.”

You frowned at him, tilting your head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Rhysand has held the Summer spies captive for…. many, many years. Tarquin has tried to negotiate their release, but Rhysand is not open to negotiating with him, or even seeing him again,” Azriel tried to explain, not overlooking the way you flinched when he mentioned the high lord's name. “If you leave now… If your parents declared you missing… Tarquin's not going to let you go out again. And they won't let me in either because the moment they see me they'll try to kill me.”

The silence that followed his words was agonizing. Azriel was terribly frightened. It didn't calm him to know that the doubt in your eyes was minimal; the desire to see your parents again was greater than the possibility of never seeing your mate again. The mere thought made him shudder, but if that was the case, there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing.

“Why… why wouldn't my High Lord let me come back?”

“Fifteen years ago the high lord forbade his people to return to the Night Court. Fifteen years ago no person from the Summer Court has gone beyond the mountains of Day.”

“Fifteen years?” you stammered, an expression of incredulous surprise taking over your face. “I'd been there for more than fifteen years?”

Azriel halted his movements, barely noticing how you succumbed to gravity and plopped down on the couch where he had been a couple of minutes earlier in complete stupefaction.

“Y/N, I'm really sorry-”

“I can't stay here,” you looked at him again, shaking your head in refusal and sending a current of panic through the bond. “I don't want to. I need… I need to see my parents. I want to be with them.”

Azriel shuddered at the desperation he saw in your eyes. He wasn't going to deny you that, ever. But he couldn't deny that he wanted to show resistance because, if you left right then, when would he ever see you again? They wouldn't even have time to talk about the elephant in the room, but, at the same time, it didn't seem like the most important conversation at the moment.

Azriel wanted to cry.

“It's okay. Don't worry. Of course you'll go see them,” he finally spoke, facing the reality he would have to live in from now on.

“Thank you,” you cried and Azriel felt each tear pierce his heart, even though the feeling of relief reached all the way to his chest, your relief, mixed with his hopelessness. “But, you… you won't be able to go.”

“No.”

“We won't be able to see each other.”

“No,” Azriel exhaled sharply and shook his head slightly. “But I'll work it out. Somehow.”

“You can't go near there. Tarquin would hurt you!”

Azriel felt the worry reach from the other end of the bond to his chest and was a little glad to know that you at least cared about him the same way he cared about you.

“I'll make an agreement. Whatever I have to do, I'll do it. I promise.”

You nodded in his direction, convinced of his words, convinced of his shaky assurance and confidence.

“And you… will you accompany me?”

You frowned when he shook his head, but quickly added, thinking he'd be mad and damned if he'd let you spend the return trip all alone after all you'd been through, “I know a faster way to travel.”

“Okay,” you nodded, calm finally ruling in your body. “So when do we leave?”

-

Everyone in the house had gathered to receive Azriel's announcement and things were breaking down just as he expected.

No one had said anything for several minutes after the Shadowsinger announced that he would be going to the Summer Court with you, to return you to where you belonged, to your true home.

“I'll do it,” Mor was the first to speak, to Azriel's right, watching him confidently. She turned to look at Rhysand, who hadn't looked up since his brother finished speaking, deep in thought with a hand on his chin. “I'll request a meeting with him.”

Cassian stirred at Azriel's left side, sweeping his gaze over everyone present. He could almost imagine what was going through his friend's head, helpless at not being able to join him, just as it must've been going through Rhysand's mind. Azriel knew the only reason his High Lord was still thinking was that. If it was risky for the Shadowsinger to go, it would be worse if it was both of them.

“I can go too,” Feyre spoke to Rhysand's right and the aforementioned raised his head in a second, beginning to shake his head in denial.

“For no reason should you ever step near that Court again,” Rhysand stood up, resting his hands on the desk and leaning towards his mate. His face contracted, contrasting with Feyre's warm gaze.

“Rhys, don't you think it's time to get this over with?” Feyre reached up to cradle his mate's face, Rhysand leaning in almost on instinct, betrayed by his senses.

“You want me to overlook so easily what he did to you?” the High Lord frowned, closing his eyes under Feyre's gentle touch.

“Not easily, Rhys. It's been fifty years.”

“You know fifty years is nothing to us,” Rhysand snorted, straightening his back.

The Shadowsinger clicked his tongue.

“It was too much for Y/N.”

No one in the room had to look twice to know that Azriel was tense, hands clasped behind his back. Rhysand turned to see him, his wary look of apology over his friend's stony expression.

“You know I didn't come here to ask your permission, Rhysand,” Azriel almost spat, dragging the words out between his teeth.

Mor shuddered beside him, following Cassian's gaze. In so many centuries, there had obviously been trouble between the Inner Circle for some time, but in this moment it felt different, deeper and more painful. The anger and rancor in Azriel's gaze was unmatched and to earn that facet of the Shadowsinger you really had to be a son of a bitch. Mor hoped she was wrong.

“It could be dangerous for you,” Rhysand warned and Azriel had to stifle a wry chuckle. The way his High Lord's features contorted gave him to understand that he had understood the twitch in his muscles all too well.

“I don't care what you think,” Azriel bellowed, clasping his hands at his sides. “I'll go with her, and since Mor offered I'd greatly appreciate it if she'd accompany us.”

Rhysand didn't respond, settling for sharing a glance with his brother, trying to reach a part of him that was minimally willing to forgive him. Azriel sensed his intrusion and angrily erected a wall of obsidian in his mind, miles away, forcibly pulling Rhysand out of his head. The aforementioned barely staggered to his feet.

“Fine, but I'd like to be kept informed of everything that happens,” Rhysand nodded looking at Mor, who barely returned the gesture and left the office to manage the meeting as soon as possible.

When the doors rattled and the room fell silent again, Rhysand looked at Azriel pleadingly.

“Az-”

“If that's all.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Azriel turned on his heels and stormed off. Cassian followed close behind, barely sending a glance at his high lord, his brother, saying with his gaze how sorry he was that it had all happened and ended like this.

[ooooo-mcyt]

Sometimes I see people pose the question of whether Scott gives to others because he cares about them, or out of selfish desire, because it in some way benefits him to do so- and a lot of times this is posed with this implication that he's being manipulative, lying, or using people. But I think this is a false dichotomy and I find it a bit ludicrous.

Scott Smajor is kind, he's generous, he's fun and he's giving and he loves his friends so much. He cares, genuinely and deeply about people, he doesn't give up on them, he makes them feel special because they are special to him and he wants nothing but joy for them.

Scott Smajor is also a person who desperately wants control over his life, and in many ways, being diplomatic and giving helps him achieve that, which I'm certain is an underlying motivator, especially given his past experiences with immense loss and lack of control.

This is not bad. This is not immoral. This is not evidence he's in any way 'lying' or 'manipulating' when he claims to give out of love.

It's very human to want to act in a way that will give you personal agency and minimize the likelihood that you'll be hurt. Having personal desires doesn't mean you're dishonest or evil, and it's not a 'lie' or 'manipulative' to do good and generous things without being 'pure enough' while you're doing them.

It rubs me the wrong way when people view any evidence of Scott having motivations that aren't completely purely 'selfless' as a betrayal or moral fault, a sign of inherent corruption and deception, instead of just human nature.

Ironically, I think this- the concept of purity- is one of the things Scott himself struggles with immensely.

One 'rule' of Scott's character for me is that he will typically not allow himself to do something if he cannot justify it as being 'correct' (i think Scott sees 'correct' as anything that contributes positively to peace, safety, cleanliness, or moral standing of himself and his group). Scott will, in many cases, actively withhold his own desires, even if they're broadly non-harmful, and will actively do things he doesn't seem to want to do because they are 'correct' to do.

Scott, in many ways, finds stability and safety in repression, in fixating on purity of thought, action, and motivation, as if he feels it's necessary to avoid bad things happening to himself or his loved ones.

But that's not true. When people say Scott is 'selfish'- with the implication that he's manipulative- for having non-selfless motivators, that's wrong, and when Scott himself believes he's obligated to meet a standard of moral purity, that's wrong too.

The thing I think Scott actually needs to learn, the main 'flaw' I think he has in many ways, is that 'purity' doesn't exist, and that being a human being with human desires and motivations is good. It's okay to want things, it's okay to desire things for reasons that aren't 'selfless', it isn't deceptive, or manipulative, or wrong, you aren't a bad person, nor will the world end, if you fail to please someone, or if you want to keep something for yourself, or if you have desires that are just about you and nobody else.

Being a good person who loves the people around you and having 'selfish' personal desires are not mutually exclusive.

(half of this is actual character analysis and half of it is me working through my ocd through scott smajor. i have not slept in like twenty eight hours sorry for the current posting quality.)

[ultred]

if you are worried about your grades, i got you.

i graduated recently with honors and got top grades even though i barely attended and was doing horribly my first year. (which could’ve heavily impacted my overall gpa)

how did i do it ?

⤷ well, it’s very simple.

1. stop putting your grades, school, university, etc. on a pedestal.

you need to acknowledge the fact that it’s not only possible to put people in your life on a pedestal, but also other things in life. treat your grades exactly like an sp. there is nothing higher than you. there is nothing out of your reach. put yourself on that damn pedestal and stop thinking that good grades are unachievable.

2. you’ve always been smart, you’re just aware of it now.

know your worth. know you’re smart. know you’re special. know that you get special treatment from your professors/teachers. and don’t just know it, claim that you’ve been born with it. you are not just smart, but beyond intelligent. know your worth and don’t underestimate yourself. you can be aware of any reality. any possibility. choose to be aware of the one that benefits you because even if you believe that you’re not smart in your current one, there is a reality in which you’re literally the top student.

3. stop being so bothered. it’s not the end of the world.

please do yourself a favor and stop being worried and bothered to the point you ruin your own mental health over something that honestly, doesn’t really matter that much. there are thousands of people who achieved their dreams without any education. millions of people who graduated with normal or below average grades yet achieved so much. your life and success do not depend on your grades. education is a system. a man-made one. and any man-made system is not above the law. so stop stressing. it’s not the end of the world. they’re just grades. they do not define your worth or success in life.

4. if people in your life are stressing you tf out:

remember that everyone is you pushed out. they’re just reflecting your own fears. they are YOU. so, why would you care about their opinion or expectations ? you only need to validate yourself. if they’re pressuring you to get good grades, know that they’re just mirroring you so their words are less effective. yk that it is within you so you’ll simply change that. be relaxed within, and that’ll reflect outwards.

5. before persisting to get good grades, persist to better your health.

you can manifest even if you’re in the depths of hell. however, there is nothing more precious or important than yourself. your well-being. always treat yourself with care. look at yourself from a third person perspective and feel empathetic towards yourself. nothing deserves your mental health to be wrecked. so, persist that you’re fine. that you’re okay. do some techniques. meditate. script. do breath work. eft tapping. whatever. you don’t even have to do techniques. listen to or watch something you love. eat or go to a place that brings you peace or joy. you can also go within and use your most powerful tool (imagination) and imagine scenarios that bring you peace and stability. maybe drink tea before doing so then play some soft music or a meditation.

6. you deserve princess treatment and to be favored everywhere you go.

yes, you do. just assume and persist in the fact that you stand out and your teachers/professors are always rooting for you. my self-concept was so high when it came to this that so many professors remarked my papers giving me the highest grades. (going from 11/20 to 17/20 for example, which was as same as the highest grade the other students got !) i even manifested my professors praising me in front of everyone and clearly favoring me in all aspects. they would treat me so well compared to others and always remarked my papers or gave me high grades even on my presentations. and i’d like to note that in school, i didn’t have the same experience. so it was a total shift for me. so, yes. it is 100% possible. everyone else’s experience with my professors was negative or neutral. so this proves it.

7. when you enter your exams, do your assignments, etc. live in the END.

i always did that. before entering any exam. starting any assignment. any presentation. any project. i’d just live in the end that i already got excellent grades and that i’m an A student and everyone around me reflected this as well calling me an “A student” just by continuously telling myself and affirming that i’m one ! i would imagine that i already received my reports and got straight As. so no matter what i did on any of these, i didn’t care. even when i did horribly or didn’t completely finish any of them, i’d tell myself, well, i already got an A. i’m not saying that i didn’t study at all but i didn’t really put that much effort into anything. remember, you can’t be stressed when it’s already yours. you already know the truth. you already know what will happen. you already know you succeeded and you’re an A student so why should you worry ? be it.

8. manifest other people helping you.

i’ve manifested so many notes and help from people around me. even in group projects, i loved being the leader but sometimes, i felt like i didn’t care that much so i just assumed that they’ll take care of it (mind you, most of the people i was assigned to be with where either the type to do nothing at all or were the type to be really strict), and they did. they put absolutely no pressure on me and did everything whenever i just assumed that they will and won’t bother me about it. you can also manifest people sending you their notes if you don’t have any or don’t want to write ones. always remind yourself that resources are everywhere and people around you would do anything to help you and make your life easier.

9. you graduated. you’re happy. it’s done.

tbh, this is what kept me going the most. i acknowledged the fact that i’m going to graduate 100% like obviously i won’t stay here forever. i just kept thinking about my graduation day and guess what, it came so fast. the years i’ve spent in uni, i don’t even remember them. whenever you’re stressed, just imagine yourself graduating and know that it’s inevitable. school and university are temporary. just ask anyone who has graduated, they’ll tell you the same.

these are currently a few points i had in mind. i hope they helped, even for a bit. feel free to ask me anything !

you’re an A student,

never forget that. <3 (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[jacquitries]

Beyond the Cauldron | B.Z.

When Blaise Zabini, the quiet and enigmatic Slytherin, unexpectedly chooses you as his Potions partner, you think it’s just because you’re good at what you do. But as he starts showing up in other parts of your life, you begin to wonder if there’s more behind his silent stares and sharp smirks.

Blaise doesn’t waste words — but maybe actions speak louder than any of them ever could.

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

The classroom buzzed with excitement as Professor Slughorn finally allowed the students to choose their own partners. It wasn’t surprising when Hermione Granger glanced your way almost immediately. Though you weren’t particularly close, there was an unspoken understanding between you: she excelled in theory, while your strength lay in application. Together, you were an unstoppable force.

You nodded subtly, and she started making her way over.

But then, before she could reach your table, someone slid into the seat beside you.

You turned your head, mildly surprised to see Blaise Zabini settling into the chair, his movements deliberate and calm. His dark eyes flicked to Hermione, and with a single raised brow, he wordlessly claimed the seat as his own.

Hermione paused, her lips pressing into a thin line. She wasn’t one to back down easily, but after a moment, she huffed and moved to a different spot.

You leaned slightly toward Blaise, keeping your voice even. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t bother looking at you as he unpacked his things. “Sitting.”

“You’re aware Hermione and I usually—”

“She can sit somewhere else,” he interrupted smoothly, finally glancing at you. “This is my seat now.”

You stared at him for a moment, weighing whether to argue. But Blaise wasn’t the type to make decisions lightly, and it was clear he wasn’t moving. So, you turned back to your cauldron, deciding to let it go for now.

Initially, you assumed Blaise partnered with you because he recognized the benefit of working with someone who could match his own competence in Potions. He wasn’t one to waste time or effort, and you could respect that.

But as the weeks went on, you started noticing peculiar things.

For one, Blaise wasn’t just good at Potions—he was excellent. His brewing was meticulous, his knife work precise, and his ability to control the simmering cauldron was nearly unmatched. He didn’t need a partner to help him succeed, and yet, here he was.

Beyond that, he didn’t take advantage of your skills. When you worked together, it felt more like a collaboration than anything else. He’d correct you if you miscalculated, and you’d do the same for him, though those moments were rare.

One afternoon, after successfully brewing a tricky Draught of Peace, you leaned back and glanced at him. “You’re surprisingly good at this.”

He smirked faintly, his hands deftly corking the finished potion. “And you’re surprisingly bad at hiding your astonishment.”

You raised a brow but said nothing, turning back to clean up.

It wasn’t just in Potions, though. Blaise began showing up more often, and not just when it was required. He’d sit beside you in the library, occasionally passing you a book or suggesting a reference you hadn’t considered.

“You’re helpful for someone who usually avoids people,” you remarked one evening as he handed you a text on advanced alchemical reactions.

“You’re tolerable,” he replied without missing a beat, his tone neutral but the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

The comment might’ve annoyed you if it had come from anyone else. But with Blaise, it felt oddly… sincere.

The first time you truly questioned his intentions was during a study session in the library.

You’d been pouring over notes for an upcoming exam when Blaise sat down across from you without a word. He wasn’t carrying any books—just a cup of tea, which he slid across the table toward you.

You frowned. “What’s this for?”

“You’ve been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Figured you could use a break.”

You blinked, unsure whether to be grateful or suspicious. “Are you always this thoughtful?”

“Only when it suits me,” he replied, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

After that, his presence became a constant. He didn’t just sit beside you in class or the library anymore—he’d walk with you to meals, linger near you in the common areas, and occasionally even join conversations you were having with others.

It wasn’t overtly possessive or intrusive; he simply made himself part of your life in a way that felt natural, even if it was unexpected.

“Do you think he likes you?” Hermione asked one afternoon as the two of you worked on a joint essay in the library.

You glanced over at Blaise, who was seated a few tables away, quietly reading. He hadn’t said a word to you since arriving, but he also hadn’t looked anywhere else.

“I have no idea,” you admitted, turning back to your parchment.

“Well,” Hermione said, a faint smirk playing on her lips, “if he doesn’t, he’s doing a terrible job of showing it.”

The answer came a week before Christmas break.

The two of you were walking back from dinner, the castle quiet except for the faint echoes of your footsteps. Blaise was his usual composed self, his hands tucked into his pockets as he matched your pace.

“You’ll need to dress nicely over the holidays,” he said suddenly.

You frowned, glancing at him. “Why?”

“For when you meet my mother.”

You stopped mid-step, turning to stare at him. “I’m sorry—what?”

He turned as well, his expression calm. “You’re coming to meet my mother.”

“Why would I—”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he interrupted, his brow arching slightly. “Significant others meet each other’s parents.”

Your mind reeled. “Significant others?”

“Yes.”

“But we’re not—”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Aren’t we?”

You opened your mouth to argue but paused. “We haven’t even kissed.”

His smirk widened. “Easily fixed.”

Before you could process his words, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a confidence that left no room for doubt. The kiss was firm yet deliberate, sending a rush of warmth through you.

When he pulled back, his expression was unreadable save for the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes. “Will that suffice?”

You blinked, your cheeks flushing. “I… think so.”

“Good.” He started walking again, glancing over his shoulder. “Now, about that dress…”

As you hurried to catch up, Hermione’s knowing smile from across the corridor made you groan inwardly. Still, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Whatever Blaise Zabini’s motives had been, you were starting to think you didn’t mind them one bit.

[blackpilljesus]

Why I'm no longer a feminist

For context I've been heavily involved in liberal & radical feminist spaces, skirted around marxfems but they're all similar behaviour wise while claiming to be better than others which is what all the below points are based on. All of these apply irrespective of the type of feminism.

Feminism failed - Around 2020/2021 when I was still a feminist, I read an article about how feminism failed and realised it was right. It highlighted how it's been decades of feminism yet it took a pandemic to set women back (women turning to sex work to survive, women quitting their jobs to take care of kids) and it got me thinking. All this pandering to moids, all this work, yet women are always one political disaster away from losing it all. Now tbf it isn't exactly a fair battle with decades of established feminism going up against millenias of oppression but the below points certainly do not help feminism move womens freedom/rights forward.

So much infighting - Nobody is ever a true feminist. Despite everything feminists would say about maIe violence & how it affects womens lives; they'd lash out, smear, or block women that actually hated maIes. I'll never forget being blocked by a big feminist page for saying how women would be better off living without maIes in our lives using their poll data collected on what women would do if maIes didn't exist for 24 hours. They claimed I was being hateful to maIes like come tf on everyone else gets to hate their oppressor but women. Also I've noticed feminists are generally nicer to maIes despite all the abuse but harsher to women they disagree with. Complaining about maIes is just a hobby to them, when a woman more serious comes along they attack that woman more than they attack abusive maIes. Similarly they defend maIes more fiercely than they defend women & girls. Says a lot about their character. I'll expand more on these phenomenons on lower points. Having civil disagreements among feminists is rare (which is what happens when there's no direction) as disagreements will end up in explosive fights full of abuse, smearing, doxxing, etc. It's especially worse as a lot of the time these fights are over moids.

No clear goal or direction - It can't even be agreed among feminists who the movement is for, who is benefitting & being harmed by the system, and the goal. I get that there's usually factions within big ideologies but there's almost no cohesion among feminists which makes it difficult to even discuss let alone advocate so instead of moving forward, feminists go around in circles. Feminism doesn't seem to actually be going anywhere.

Not helpful to marginalised women (in the west) - Despite claims of adopting Intersectionality, marginalised women are often left out of serious mainstream conversations by feminists i.e. black women left out of blm as voices & efforts are focused on marginalised maIes.

Lot of copium - Rather than addressing problems, many feminists want to pretend the problem doesn't exist with a sister circle of women that'll do the same.

Realised how toxic & complicit women are - Even several feminists can be toxic maIe lovers willing to drag any woman & her name through mud for maIes sake. So much enabling behaviour is peddalled in the name of "sisterhood" but let it be a woman that doesn't want anything to do with maIes and feminists have no problem excluding & hating on her. Feminists speak about how women are just too kind & empathetic for their own good which is very misleading. Women are manipulative & also calculative with their actions, they aren't the innocent victims feminists preach them to be (not saying they have to be innocent but it's disingenuous & reckless pretending otherwise). Women (including feminists) will be gentle with maIes but harsher with women; especially women that merely disagree with them. Another issue I have with feminists is that (especially with radfems) they push "men bad women good" agenda when women are also bad. Just because they're oppressed doesn't mean they cant be bad. Whenever women have power (esp over other women) they can be evil. Besides the fact that women still love moids despite everything they do & their "bountless empathy goodwill nature" mostly extends to maIes says a lot about their so-called "goodness".

Realised most of this is just a pass-time until women find & lock in their nigels - Even fierce radical feminists of the 80s that went all out eventually settled down with a moid & kids reflecting on their radfem days as a hobby. I'm not looking to do the same. Many feminists, even the most staunch ones eventually end up bragging about finding a good man that's not like the rest, he's different they're sure of it (said every woman ever). The thing that gets me is that they cant even shut up about their nigel in a space supposedly for women, they want to affirm their ego by flaunting their special nigel to other women then months down the line it's "actually he was a manipulative POS" sure sis.

Saw how common maIe panderering is - each type of feminist accuses the other of pandering to maIes when they all do it, just in different ways and yes this includes radfems which was my last straw. Also many feminists prop up maIe voices even for the most simplest thing, they'll stand behind maIes being treated like crap by other ones for defending women but they wouldn't do that to women. I've realised that for most feminists it isn't about helping women advance irrespective of maIes but reforming maIes for their personal desires which takes me to the next point.

Despite all the complaining, statistics, news, theory, analysis; most feminists want to be with a moid & reproduce at some point completely overlooking everything they preach - I've realised how performative most feminists are. Separatism & the notion of not dating or reproducing with maIes gets so much hate bc these women only want to complain & get dopamine off playing victim. They want to have their cake and eat it and I want to part in that. Gets draining being in these spaces if you actually want nothing to do with moids & their evil. You get attacked for hating or wanting nothing to do with maIes instead of wanting to reform them. It's at a point where I'm agitated seeing the same headlines, discourse, theory, etc repetitively. It's like a pest, it irritates me because nothing will change. Moids will continue to abuse women with no consequences & women (including feminists) will continue to love them. I just dont care anymore. I've noticed the maIe panderers & reformers obsess over the repetitive theory, headlines, stats, etc because they want to change maIes to make it easier to settle down with them. Those of us who see that moids are past the point of redemption & want them gone aren't spending our days dolling out the same stats & theories. Look at many serious separatist/4b et al pages, many of them don't talk about maIes much (second half of this anons ask was questioning why I don't prominently speak about men & misogyny) and this is because we see the pattern, have drawn our conclusions, and now want to move forward. Saw the below photo in my gallery & it sums up this point tho it applies to all feminist communities. Drives you crazy when you're not invested in maIes or forming relationships with them. SN; bear discourse is also an example of this.

Realised that this goes beyond witty one-liners & comebacks - I feel like many feminists have created a culture of who can have the hottest take & it's become a thing of snapping back at maIes sorta like the below video explains rather than caring about women.

At some point when you actually don't care for maIes, you don't feel much & the discourse means nothing. I dont care if their behaviour is social or biological, I dont care if they can be reformed, I don't care if I or my actions dont make sense to moids, I just view them all as threats & want to be safe from their evil. No amount of throwing stats & headlines at moids will get them to change. Even if you "win" debates it doesn't bring material value for women but of course this pads many feminists egos as they've got an interest in changing maIes.

Saviour complex - many feminists have saviour complexes which causes arrogance fuelling many of the problems above. People are more aware than they let on and this includes about misogyny but a lot of feminists care more about looking like heros to feel good about themselves rather than actually helping women & girls. P.S todays set of feminists aren't the first set (or even first 3) of women to have the 'theory' of patriarchy that they do.

Feminism has generally done good work over the years for women but with what I want I dont see feminism achieving it. The light switch flipped for me when I saw that these issues from feminists weren't because of a minority but a majority. This isn't even personal I've seen feminists treat other women like crap for maIe validation. Look at what happened when the depp v heard trial was going on & how several feminists initially sided with depp to prove they can hold "female abusers" accountable & claim moids are victims with the expectation maIes can do the same. Feminists even went against andrea dworkin herself when she was raped. I've realised most women do not want liberation as this will likely come without their happily-ever-after life with maIes so they settle for reformation; however this cant be done without other women also taking hits which is why they'll pull the "we're all in it together bs".

[brainrotcharacters]

What if Angel didn't like to cook because they were food poisoned? @chimckenns pinned it on michael

Angel kept their back turned to the locked bathroom door as they vomited on the sink. The sour stench of what must be gastric acid mixed with saliva and the strings of pasta climbing back up their throat had been their entire life for the past fifteen minutes.

"Okay, now you're just being dramatic." Michael's muffled voice spoke through the door.

It was easy to ignore him, considering Angel's stomach seized once again when they puked a fresh wave of spaghetti. Groaning, they set their forehead onto the faucet, one hand on the sink and the other around their hair. It was all Angel could do to scan the bathroom for any pseudo-hair tie or clamp, on account of being unable to walk three steps without hurling their guts up.

As if on cue, Angel felt the urge to gag. The bits of pasta were still slipping into the sink drain, forcing them to crouch over the toilet. They hurriedly wrapped their hair into a bun before leaning over the open seat and puking.

"I'm never gonna cook for you again if you're gonna be this immature about it every time!"

That's funny, because Angel already decided to break up with him five minutes ago. Enough with the benefit of the doubt. They flushed the toilet before pushing themselves to their feet, slamming the bathroom door open.

Michael was already frowning when he whirled around to face them. "What."

"What did you put in the food." Angel reached for the hair tie on the nightstand. For good measure, they also grabbed their wallet and a bundle of plastic bags from the drawers. Every motion twisted their already empty stomach and made them dizzy.

"Nothing! I followed the cookbook to the letter! I even asked my mom! You're the one with the problems!" Good. He was finally angry. That was better than any nonchalant bullshit he preferred to pull.

Angel already tied their hair up in a bun and made their way back to the bathroom. "Did you use clean equipment?"

Michael hesitated. "I would have if you cleaned the dishes like I told you to!"

"Okay. Understood." They held his gaze, committing that frustrated, hateful expression into memory before returning to the bathroom to vomit again.

When the doctor confirmed it was food poisoning, she set Angel up for an IV drip and twenty four hour-monitoring. She had their record on hand when they checked in, "By the way, I noticed it's your birthday today. I'm sorry this happened. Let's work on fixing you up."

"Thank you, Doc." Angel said hoarsely. "Um, this is actually my first time getting an IV drip. Is it supposed to itch?"

The doctor smiled patiently. "Please don't scratch it. I'll check in again in a few hours."

--

David cooked spaghetti for Angel's birthday. Granted, it was the first time he tried it, but they've been together long enough that he felt the need to acknowledge one part of his mate's culture.

Somehow, he didn't need to look to know how Angel hesitated at the sight of that platter of red pasta on the dining table. "I heard you always put hotdog slices on top, but grated cheese is optional."

"Right!" Angel grinned, an exaggerated bounce in their step as they approached. David hunched down as his mate stood on their toes to peck his cheek in greeting. "Thank you, baby. You didn't have to."

"You okay?" He asked lightheartedly.

Angel inhaled sharply through their teeth, claiming a seat. Communicate. Trust him. "I... Have a personal vendetta against spaghetti."

A slow blink as David tilted his head. His mate continued, "I'd like to say I learned how to deepthroat using classic techniques, if you know you know. But nothing in this world reached the back of my throat and twisted my guts quite like this thing. So I guess Michael isn't your actual rival." They grinned.

David blinked again. "Did he poison you?"

Angel's smile faltered as they exhaled. "You know, that's your real magic power. I didn't stand around to ask if he did it on purpose, before you ask. It was a whole mess. I broke up with him after I was discharged from the hospital. So, there."

Their boyfriend stared for a moment before slowly pulling back the platter of spaghetti. Angel's heart broke, and they shot their hands out, stopping him. "No, no! I'm gonna eat. I wanna eat."

"You sure? I don't mind." David said quietly.

"Davey," they stood. "Okay, um... I was pissed at myself that I let it happen. That he was so irresponsible and didn't care about me. He's not gonna have that power over me. You can help." They pulled the plate towards them.

David held Angel's gaze. "You're very persuasive." And he conceded, letting them eat.

[ozzgin]

Hello.

Do you think I can request headcanons for Nakamaro ?

Like in an alternate route, reader and him (he's in his twenties because... magic ?) are married and reader is pregnant.

But the funny thing is, Nakamaro can't bully the yokais because reader will exorcise him each time he tries.

Aaaaah I finished writing and only afterwards it occurred to me you might've wanted a modern day reader for this. 😭 I imagined the events in his own timeline. Oh well. I think it can work both ways. Just replace the ancient pouch with, I don't know, a visa card that he throws at your parents for wife payment.

Yandere! Onmyōji x Reader

Yokai Harem AU as the wife of Abe no Nakamaro, a legendary sorcerer and collector of yokai. Although you're not quite as powerless as to not keep his cruelty under control.

Content: female reader, arranged marriage, mentions of pregnancy

[Main Story] [Character Guide]

Your family had vehemently opposed the marriage. To think their one and only daughter would fall into the hands of such a cruel man. The famous Abe no Nakamaro, descendant of Abe no Seimei himself, has quite a contradicting reputation. He has saved many lives, cured countless illnesses, protected villages from monsters and brought peace to the land. Yet many have also witnessed his ruthless nature: the arrogance he has towards humans, the disdain and utter disgust he harbors towards demons. He is quick to punish, rarely forgives, and never forgets. The yokai he’s captured under a binding contract are kept on a leash, like cattle before slaughter.

It is this man who approached your parents one day, when you were still young, demanding your hand. He claimed you had special powers and a lot of potential under the right guidance. Such spiritual prowess would waste away in a family of plebeians. You don’t remember much of the discussion, only the expressions: the man’s mocking grin as he threw a pouch fattened with coins, the frown of your parents who wanted to refuse, the uneasy, grim eyes of the horned demons brought to intimidate. It was clear they were there against their will. One will find just how difficult it is to go against the wishes of the onmyōji, and you happened to be his most ardent desire. Thus, with a heavy heart, you’d been sent away with the stranger who promised you were to live a life of luxury. One your parents could never afford.

True to his word, you have not struggled since. In Akutagawa’s short masterpiece, Hell Screen, artist Yoshihide is wicked and vicious towards everything and everyone except his beloved daughter. Similarly, the sorcerer seems to have a soft spot for you in particular. He often praises your talent, and patiently caters to your whims without complaint. You once inquired about it yourself, as the idea weighed heavily on your mind: why is it that he does not show the same hostility towards you? He stared at you as if you just grew two more heads. "You're my wife. What else is there to question?"

This favoritism, however, is to the benefit of everyone. Especially to the yokai under his command. You've grown rather fond of the demons in your years spent alongside them, and they've quickly learned that your presence means safety from any punishment. Some need reassurance more than others. To these you've even begun to feel like a motherly figure, shielding them from the wrath of an unforgiving master. At last, an authority even Abe no Nakamaro himself can't disobey: the word of his wife.

And soon enough, as if your marriage wasn't already the ultimate argument, you welcome the return of your husband with the news he's always longed for: you are the soon-to-be mother of his child. His name has just been guaranteed to continue its course through time. To say he is elated is an understatement. You've only seen him smile so genuinely once before in your life, on your wedding day.

"Can you imagine the powers this child will command?" He muses, referring most likely to the fact you've both been blessed with an innate, unmatched talent in onmyōdō. You finish rolling the parchment paper and gently tap his head with the scroll in a scolding manner. "You better not burden the kid with your bizarre expectations!" The same man feared throughout the country is chuckling apologetically at your gesture. "As the Mother says."

[tinydefector]

Not really a request but more of a ramble. Ive always been torn betweenn Cybertronians not really having any material instincts and just essentially knowing how to function since creation. Kinda like Steven Universe. They can be young and differ in how much knowledge they hold but overall they have the bases of how to function without any caretaker needing to be around. But then I immediately start shaking at the thought of them having even stronger instincts that humans. Maybe closer to animals that have come to accept a human as their own. Just picturing a cybertronain seeing someone who's carrying and immediately is distressed on how little protection our clothes offer. Nows theirs a bot who keeps hissing at those who get to close other humans included. Their plating is ruffled and if they are a seeker their wings are spread in a threatening manner. May you have the patience of a Saint if said seeker has a large trine because now they all share the same feral need to protect. A con that stumbles upon a lost child and immediately claims them as their sparkling.( if you wanted to make it a bit gross I can imagine they do a forced adoption the same ways farmers do sometimes. Where they just kinds cover a stray baby with the fluids of a mother to create that connection. Kinda gross but I can see it being used to further claim a child) They consider the biological parents of the child nothing more than food and shelter for their now sparkling. They try a coo and speak to the child in their natural tongue. A seeker that chirps and clicks its glossa. A grounder that does low hums and songs like a whale. Sorry for the long ramble haha. I just think the ideas of cybertronains either having no idea what instincts are but also the ideas of them drowning in them. Or meeting humans just relights their feral mindsets in any and every way.

I happen to really love both ideas a lot. I enjoy the idea of Cybertronians not understanding family or parental rolls, Forged sparks start off in smaller frames and slowly gain more framing as they get older. Instead, it works more like a mentor and apprentice side of things. They teach you how to do your job, keep your head down like Terminus with Megatron. Their race doesn't have a name for the connection they have so in turn they call each other friend, but intruth it's more than that but they don't know how to explain it or express it, they dont raise the younger one but they are their for special events such as plating ceremonies. To Megatron Terminus is an elder, someone to be respected for his knowledge and teachings. And they both care for each other, when Terminus us gravelly injured Megatron does everything he can to try and help him because he feels like he owes it to terminus for everything the older bot as done for him. It's a mutual benefit of a bond that's isn't family but also is much closer than friendship.

But on the other hand, I look at Optimus and Codexa, and I love the idea that I found this little bitlet and instantly went mother mode. Practically scoops him up out of a hotspot and takes him home with her. She's very attentive and is the one who even names him. In all aspects, he is her son, and she does everything she can to try and raise a good mech, and she does a wonderful job. She teaches him to read, sings to him, and each plating ceremony, she keeps a piece of his old plating similar to humans and baby teeth. She celebrates when he gets his first job as a Liberian because she put so much effort into making sure he had a comfortable job, not wanting him to struggle like so many other mechs less fortunate.

And then there is my headcanon for birthed sparklings, which differs depending on what frame type they are. They experience different behaviours. Grounders are in different sub sections

- Tanks: Megatron, Tarn, Warpath, Blitzwing

- Mine frames: Megatron, Terminus,

- Hauliers : Optimus Prime, Sentinel Prime, Ironhide, Ratchet, Inferno, Kup,

- Emergency services: Prowl, Ratchet, Pharma, inferno

- Battle Chargers: Ironhide, Hound, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Trailbreaker, wheeljack, Tracks,

- Praxian carters: Prowl, Bluestreak, skids, Smokescreen,

- speeders: Rodimus, Drift, Jazz, mirage, redalert, blurr, Tracks,

- mini vehicle: Bumblebee, Tailgate, grapple,

- Vosian Fliers (later Seeker's): Starscream, skywarp, Thundercracker, sunstorm, Nacelle and so on all of the Jets.

- Helimech: Whirl,

- aerial Shuttle: Cosmos, Omega Supreme, Senator Shockwave.

- Combiners: stuntacons, combaticons, constructicons

- Cassettes/ mini bots: Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy, Rewind, Lazerbeak, buzzsaw

- non Traditional frames: Rung,

- Non shifters:

There's a lot more but these just just who I can think off off the top of my head.

____

Tankers and Mine frames don't get the luxury of families or raising sparklings, most of them are cold constructs, and don't get a chance to see life outside of mines or duties they have been put into. But if given the chance they are actually very protective of a sparkling, they will fight to the death for their bitlet even if it isn't their. Their behaviour is very similar to a bear mother with their protectiveness of a child, human or cybertronian.

Megatron's optics focus on the tiny form in his lovers arms. If it were any other situation, people would think he is glaring at the tiny baby being placed again in his Chassis. "They have no plating or outer frame, no protection." He states while looking to his lover. "They are a baby, Megs, human babies don't have anything like sparklings, they are very fragile," they explain with a smile as they watch their child try and grab Megatron's large digits. His optics soften as he watches their child as the baby babbles and giggles up at him. It makes a switch inside his possessor flick. Nothing would ever hurt this child. He would make sure of it. A deep rumble leaves his chassis as he lets them play with his large servos. A laugh leaves his lover as they watch him. "You look like a grizzly bear with a cub," they chuckle as they lean up to press a kiss to the side of his helm.

Hauliers tend to see a random sparkling and go. "You're mine now, I'm going to warp you up in bubble wrap and keep you in my cab so no one can hurt you" Hauliers tend to be very attentive carriers/ Sires to adopted or sparked bitlets. A lot of Hauliers tend to be very nomadic in the rust sea moving inpacks. They tend to behave more like migrating herds when on cybertron, but those who live in the cities tend to make a very homey and comfortable for sparklings. But also they are the ones who panic the most when their child puts something in their mouth they shouldn't have.

Optimus chuckles as he watches his bitlet roam around. Playing with sticks and mud. He sits not far off watching them as they play his optics soften as they giggle and let out little buzzes of excitement as they find a new rock. "They seem to be enjoying their first proper road trip," His lover calls out as they walk their way over to him. Leaning down to press a kiss to his Helm. "They are very fascinated by a lot of things on Earth," he rumbles his optics, meeting his partners. "Can you really blame them, I remember a certain bot being very fascinated with Terra's fauna when we first arrived here," they tease him. Another squeal of delight comes from their sparkling as they begin trying to chew on a rock. Optimus let's out a slight noise of panic as he quickly moves towards them. "No, no, Bitlets, you can't eat that," he states while trying to pry the rock from the little ones' servos. They squeak and squeal in protest before eventually letting go of the rock. Another laugh leaves his lover as they watch the two.

A lot of emergency vehicles tend to not be the best for being parents. Mainly due to their work and just not having the time for a bitlet. But they are very attentive to those who do have them, trying to calm them and make sure that they aren't hurt and can make it back to their parents. A lot of the time, they will put up the disgruntled act of the dad who said they didn't want a cat, but then ends up with a child curled up on his chest as he works.

Praxian carters tend to act very similar to seeker, but with children and sparklings its as if they can feel where they are but have a tendency of paranoid when they can't see their little ones. Their door wings will flicker and twitch when they hear their children and will respond back with soothing little clicks. A lot of the time, they will carry their sparklings on their back between their door wings.

Prowl wasn't impressed with Sunstreaker or Sideswipe. The two young mech burst out into fits of laughter watching him with a human baby strapped to his chest. His wings flutter in dispair as they begin taking photos to send to every mech they know. "Oh Primus Prowl, when did you get yourself a bitlet!" They ask while also fauning over the baby who giggles and reaches out with grabby hands. Prowl let's out a slight,all collection of angry clicks as his optics narrow in on the twins. "I am looking after them as their parent had an important meeting today," he snaps as he begins walking, trying to outpace the twins as they continue shooting questions at him. "But you have them strapped to your chassis like they are battle gear!" Sunstreaker laughs, which earns him a smack up the side of the helm from Prowl. "They are too small and too young to be left to their own devices, and the safest place for them is where I know they are," he grumbles before slamming the door to his office shut.

Speedster are one of the cybertronians who tend to forget their child exist sometimes, having no awareness until they are like something is missing. Oh Primus, where is my Bitty!. They are very live fast die hard kinda mechs and it translates over to their child. They are very much the one who will proudly show off their child who is currently eating something they shouldn't be. But they are also one of the most cuddly with their child. Curling up with them to their chassis as they purr loudly.

"RODIMUS PRIME, DRIFT DEADLOCK WHATBARE YOU LETTING MY BITLET EAT!" their voice boomed as their optics narrowed in on the two speedsters and sparkling. Drift turns around in an instant. "I tried to stop them, I swear, but Roddy dared them," he states. Rodimus looks sheepishly at his lover as their sparkling laughs and shouts. "Told you I could!" The little one shouts in excitement, not carrying about the disappointed look from their other parent. "You timeout, you Decontamination spray Now, and You... I'm not angry, but I'm disappointed, " they state, which makes Rodimus face drop. "Nooo. That's worse!" He shouts only to have his bitlet laugh at his whining.

Seekers are the most parent of all cybertronians to the point that some trines work as a family system. Each seeker is a carrier to one seekling, but also being the sire to another or having one seeker who is the sire to two. But then their is the others who aren't spark bonded to others in their Trine, because tries can consist of siblings, cousins, parents or complete strangers so each trine is different. but the family works to train and care for all of them together. They speak in a pigeoned vosian, which is a mix of chirps, thrills, and other little vocial noises. They are also the most social. With large gatherings for sparklings to meet and also bond with others so that they can eventually find their own trine.

For example, I love the idea of Thundercracker and skywarp being brothers, but starscream is trine bonded with them.

Acid storm, Nova storm being a bonded couple who ended up with Sunstorm who is much younger who try care for as their sparkling.

Dirge, Thrust and ramjet who are all random Seeker's who became friends at a young age and are a trine but aren't together at all, they be the boys who go out on the town and wake up in their flat with a hangover and a random mech/ Seeker in their berth.

Nacelle trills lightly as the little seekers curled up in blankets and pillows. Wings fluttering in delight as he watches the little mechs curl up again each other. His two lovers chuckle softly, watching how me preens and chirps and thrills at his two little bitlets. One of his lovers moves closer to him, resting their helm against his backstruts as his wings flutter again. "They are just sleeping sweetspark you can step away. They aren't going anywhere," they call out to him. "I know, they are just..." he starts before his other lover calls back. "Fresh, I know and very you, but they are here finally, you don't have to stand guard all the time," They tease before leading him into the room towards the fluffed up berth. "I think that's enough playing guard for the night"

____________

Link to second part for Megatron

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