#though you cannot have one without the other

[harmonysanreads]

It's been a good few months since I wrote this so, evaluating this again from a different angle really puts emphasis on how emotionally manipulative Phainon can be. Sure, you can feel the implication that something is askew beneath the supposed down-bad and utterly pathetic antics of Phainon through some of the lines. But that feeling was just a shadow in my mind while writing this and I was definitely much more focused on poking at Phainon.

Characters and people, by extension, like these are dangerous, to put it simply. Because they do not put restraints on themselves when they try to re-claim the objective. They make you feel as though you are the one in control for a minute by promising you the world and dropping to their knees without another thought. Swearing on things that 'you' know are important, thus enticing within a spark of guilt and then amplifying that spark through other means.

It's... debatable whether this is always done on purpose in Phainon's case. But intentional or not, it is still manipulative from an objective view. The impatience to correct the mishap through any means necessary immediately instead of accepting something like, respecting the reader's personal space and taking it slow. This indicates an underlying anxiety. “What if they decide to leave me if I let them go now?” He cannot have that. So, he must do whatever is necessary to make amends immediately.

I NEED MORE PUPPY PHAINON, imagine that his beloved was offended by him, and he literally walks on his knees after her, asking for forgiveness, lol

Can be read as a continuation to this piece.

Phainon has become more partial to hating silence in his recent years.

It wasn't always this way though and in certain conditions, he finds himself craving a particular flavor of silence. But in the other, majority of cases, that deafening vacancy of noise reminds him of memories he’d rather forget. To placate that discomfort, he embellishes the void with sound no matter how small, or with his own voice.

Still, the ache is manageable, not voracious enough to make him dramatically restless. Where this faint modicum of control fails as well is when you, in all your cruelty, cast that curse of silence upon him as a direct consequence of anger.

In the name of the Titans, he prays you’d scream at him, hit him couple of times, destroy his house and belongings — anything, anything besides this nonverbal torture he can withstand. But he's not one to dwell in unfair complaints. Especially when your downturn gaze, pressed lips and crossed arms affirm so loudly that he's messed up.

By now, he’s exhausted almost every tactic in his arsenal to get you to acknowledge him again — apologizing, pinching his ears, making funny faces, wrestling a titankin and two whole repeats of that cycle. But you didn't let this opportunity go to waste in showcasing how good you’ve gotten in keeping a blank face in truly tumultuous situations, much to his chagrin in this instance.

It's only when you, most likely fed up with his antics, started to walk away that he scrambled to try again.

“My sun, my moon, my star, my light — please, please please please, look at me? Just once?” you're halted by a tug at your sleeve. A twinge of something softens your resolve as you realize how Phainon remembered, wrestling with his desires to not touch you until he's earned it again.

You can feel the weight of his eyes on your back, you pray that he didn't notice you waver. You steel yourself and stubbornly keep the act steadfast, conflicted before dropping the charade in favor of melting into his arms and forgetting altogether. But you can't, you’ve already promised to wring the confession on the errors of his ways this time.

You glare at the splinters in the earth, “Haven’t I told you once? If you keep calling me things that will never be yours, I might just become the same.” it takes everything to keep your voice even.

You don't need to look to picture Phainon's sure dumbfounded blinks, the churning and turning of metaphorical cogs as they shift in his head, neurons firing and synapses piecing together the implication of your cold comment.

You make the mistake of expecting only a gust of wind and are hit instead with a fully powered storm, in the form of a dull thud that you recognize as the hero’s knees hitting the ground when you're forced to spin as his arms find refuge in clinging to your thighs.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry — I am so SO sorry. I promise I won't do it again, I swear on the Flame-Chase — no, I swear on Aedes Elysiae that I will never do it again! If I do, may I face a fate worse than death itself. Just… just please, forgive me.”

There's an ache in your heart, sudden, quick and flighty. Kephale's light cradles you both, the corners of Phainon's eyes shine with something. By instinct, you try to escape the painful grasp of the hero, try to. Stumbling a few steps in what you intended would create space, resulting in Phainon getting dragged alongside your movements — sans a care in the Deliverer’s countenance.

“Phainon, I'm going to fall if you don't —” you try to bargain and fall, you do.

One ghost of a touch against the pavement is all you recall, so faint it can be disregarded completely. Your gasp gets muffled in something soft and firm, a mix of the perfume you recognize as yours and something else too convoluted to remember in the heat of the moment canopies your senses.

When the brief storm settles, a sigh slips past your lips. You don't even need to look up to know where you ended up landing.

But an insistent grasp angles your gaze against your wishes upward, you don't offer further resistance as pity grips your heart, “My dearest, beloved, my love, honeycakes with whipped cream on top, my life… won't you show me mercy?”

You calmly maintain Phainon's gaze, searching his face for any trace of dishonesty. The glossy blues of atonement prompts you to be petty one last time, “You don't care much about your life though.”

At this, Phainon completely deflates, collapsing in your arms. “Oh come on! Will you just say yes?”

At the faintest chime of the giggle you fail to quieten, he burrows further in the crook of your neck, arms coiling with a force you're no stranger to by now. Phainon shifts to adjust your position on his lap and changes tactics at the last moment, seizing your momentary lack of guard to launch an aimless attack of kisses.

You can only thank the barren side of Okhema city you two had chosen now, you do not want to think of what you’d have to do to get him off of you had this been a crowded place. The agony that came with the thirty something minutes of deprivation Phainon tolerated is much prominent, a burn lingers around your cheeks and neck. He refrains from completely leaning towards your lips though, still mindful that you haven't yet affirmed in words.

“Okay okay! You're forgiven, good heavens.” you heave, Phainon's exclamation of joy gets lodged in his throat prematurely, “But, you'll be sleeping on the couch today.”

You regret uttering that almost instantly, it's as if every particle of the hero’s life force has been drained mercilessly, appearing as though he might really cry this time.

You avert your eyes, forcing a sigh, “Ah, well, nevermind. You can sleep next to me — but I'll still be keeping a pillow barrier in the middle! Don't forget I'm still… still mad at you.”

As if on cue, Phainon springs back to life once more. Perhaps it's just your enervated eyes, but apparitions of what you can only assume to be puppy ears flick to and fro on top of his head. Caught in a trance, you reach out to ruffle those snow-white tresses and your lover melts.

You know your imposed punishment won’t last for more than ten minutes into the slumber and you’ll be coaxed with these antics again and again. But for this moment, you suppose it won't hurt to allow yourself to indulge and believe, that everything is okay.

[askkaneethi]

What do people think of you? 🫖

Pick a card reading

Masterlist Paid readings Ko-fi

Pile 1- 🐅

Pile 2- 👢

Pile 3- 👄

Pile 🐅:

Dear pile 1, people see you as someone who has a strong energy. You who come across as someone who takes on too much. You’re always pushing forward even though you’re overwhelmed or overburdened. People admire your work ethic and think you’re hardworking. They think you’re radiant and confident. People think you’re inspiring, charming and a little intimidating, you’re someone who’s self-assured, bold, and in command of your life. People think you make things happen, you’re a boss pile 1. People know that there’s softness and emotional depth to you even if you don’t always show it. You’re seen as someone who doesn’t complain and commands respect. You have a quiet strength. You’re seen as ambitious, independent and warm. People think you’re bold, expressive and a leader who inspires others even without trying. People think you’re good at everything, someone who picks up things very fast. Someone resourceful and clever. They think you’re always three steps ahead and you know more than you say. People think you’re someone protective of yourself but someone who has a lot of love to give! People think you are well dressed or have a chic style, or that you have a bold personal style. You have piercing eyes or gaze that draws attention. Perhaps you have golden undertones, reddish hues, skin/hair tones, I’m seeing olive skin. People think you have a confident posture, a “don’t mess with me” type of posture. They think your face is very expressive, your face cannot hide your thoughts or feelings lolll. They think you can switch looks with ease, perhaps you don’t only dress yourself with one particular style, or they think you look good with every style. They think your smile is very soft and kind. And you have gentle mannerisms. People think you’re magnetic and a little intimidating, but the people that know you think that you have a big and sincere heart.

Pile 👢:

Pile 2, people think you’re someone who keeps to themselves, someone who’s observant, introspective and selective. They think you’re someone who prefers to be alone or someone who perhaps needs alone time to recharge. You’re quiet but powerful. People think you’re someone who’s been through a lot, they have sensed that you’ve survived hard things and it has changed you. They think you’re someone who’s not afraid to shed skin and walk away. People think there’s more to you than what meets the eye. You’re someone who comes off as mysterious. You’re intuitive, physic and not everyone gets to know you. People think you’re a bit distant but because you’re protecting yourself. You are someone who’s seen as elegant and graceful. People sense that you don’t like to rely on others for validation or stability and they admire that. The people that get past your outer layers think you’re loving, loyal, and emotionally abundant. There’s a whole world of love inside of you pile 2. People think you’re hard to approach because you have your “walls up.” They think you’re hard to impress but that adds to your intrigue. They think you have dreamy and soulful eyes, witchy or an ethereal vibe, perhaps you dress in natural, muted, flowing style. Your energy feels commanding but still and quiet. People think that your looks have changed a lot. You’ve gone through a lot of “glow-ups” or style shifts. They think your style is striking, alternative, or mature beyond your age. You’re perceived as someone elegant, well kept and someone who takes care of themselves. They think you carry a “soft but untouchable” beauty.

Pile 👄

Hii pile 3! People see you as someone who’s comfortable with themselves, they think you’re unapologetically yourself and very authentic. They think you’re someone who enjoys life, their own company and you possibly get what you want. They think you’re in emotional control and emotional fulfilled, someone who doesn’t need others to feel whole or complete. They think you’re a compassionate, romantic and a caring person or you have a romantic look. People think that you feel things deeply but you don’t always speak on everything. They think you have a dreamy, nurturing and artistic energy. People think you’re someone who’s always exploring something. Whether creatively, spiritually or just life in general. They think you’re youthful, full of passion and lively. They think you have a thirst for new experiences and you’re someone very curious. However, people also sense that there’s a more private side to you. They think you can be strategic, elusive and someone who’s protective of their own emotions, secrets or intentions. They think you don’t like to be fully known unless you choose to open up. They think you’re sly, and you have a fox like cleverness. They think you’re slick 😆. They think you’re really smart. They think you have delicate features, romantic eyes, a warm or gentle smile. They think you’re well put together but in a graceful and subtle way. You might have a clean and minimalistic look/style. They think you have really lively expressions, or animated way of moving. They think you have a boho style or a flirty/ experimental style. They think you’re always observing and you have that fox “watchful” vibe. Some think you have mischievous eyes or you have secretive face, like you know more than you let on or say. Your energy remind me of this emoji 🌚.

Thank you so much everyone for taking the time to read this!! I hope this resonated and if you liked it don’t forget to check out my other PACs on my pinned post and check out my ko-fi to book a reading! Best of best 🫶🏻💗

[alllgator-blood]

I don't usually do anything for pride month cause I'm fruity every day of the year, but ahhh let's just say this year it felt especially important. Hope everyone is doing safe and that your ally friends/family members are giving you all their worldly possessions + sacrificing heretics in your name! I actually drew a very similar picture last year but didn't end up finishing it, some of the flags were definitely different though. NARINDER HAD THE EVIL AUTISM FLAG FOR SOME REASON. Shamura was the only one I finished so I'll just drop them off here:

Wow look at them go, rejecting humanity and encompassing cosmic knowledge and ceaseless war rather than masculinity or femininity....what an icon

Over the year that I've been in this fandom, I've had a lot of thoughts about Shamura's gender that I'll dump here, I WILL SAY it gets more ranty than I've ever gotten on this blog + talks about the fandom itself, so I hid it under the cut. But I feel like I've been pretty tame on this blog so far and because it's pride month, I have the legal right to make ONE rant about a queer fictional character's perception by the fandom

My weak enby heart still has a fucking death grip on shamura that hasn't been loosened in over a year at this point. They're not the best nonbinary representation in media but they're MY FAVORITE and that's all that matters. I can't stress how awesome it felt playing an actually cool, fun game a couple years ago and seeing that the Wisest, Most Powerful Eldritch Beast in all the land was a disabled nonbinary person. And it goes completely without question, it's like yeah that's shamura and *they're* going to traumadump on you and mind control your followers to rebel against you. Don't even worry about it bro

Being like....nonbinary and disabled and native and butch and yadda yadda, I swear to god I just got used to having no media/characters I could relate to. I didn't even think about how bad it felt until I'd stumble into the odd comic or indie game that had a Diverse Cast that MAY feature someone like me, but generally those types of things don't really *do* much with those characters. Not to be like THEY JUST WANT BROWNIE POINTS but...uhhh.........is it so bad to say that sometimes it does feel that way lmao, I won't play your game or read your comic if I feel like you see me as a checkbox to tick rather than a person with a fundamentally different experience.

I'll take this time to say it is kind of disheartening to see the fandom's treatment of shamura's gender sometimes, as someone who uses exclusively they/them. I've got a thick fucking skin, I've publicly acknolwedged I was genderless since before the nonbinary flag was even made, I've had a lot of time to roll with the punches that inevitably come from being trans. But literally one of the first comments I ever got about my shamura headcanons (when I still posted on reddit like a year ago) was that they didn't like that I made them AFAB and said "why can't they just be completely genderless". Like...making the TRANS character TRANSITION at some point was a bad thing? I wasn't saying "they're a girl in my drawings lol" and I even explained that I made them AFAB so I could connect with them better but. Ough

I s2g just mentioning this character brings up arguments, same with the lamb to a lesser extent, but DO NOT look at the reply chains on the youtube uploads of ANY of shamura's songs. It's always that someone calls them a him or her, someone corrects them, someone crucifies that person for being the Woke Police, blah blah blah IT'S AWFUL. It's funny in a way that the mere presence of a nonbinary person is enough to start a small war, but it also feels dehumanizing to know that my gender just cannot respectfully be talked about the same way binary genders can.

While I'm still talking about this, I don't hold it against people who played the game in other languages and call shamura "he" or w/e because from their perspective, the character is male. I've not changed my perspective of the character because I found out they're male in other releases, so I can readily accept that those folks won't either. But it feels....gross to see people who played it in english who just picked whatever binary gender they wanted shamura to be and went with that. Literally every single character with a confirmed gender is male except like, Heket + Forneus + Monch, so to take the ONE undebatably nonbinary character and decide they're not good enough the way they are is....ough. "It's my headcanon" bro that's erASURE IDK HOW ELSE TO TELL YOU. The people doing it probably literally do not comprehend what it's like to never see themself in the media they consume so I don't hate them or anything, but it took me like two decades to find a character whose gender feels like mine. It's lonely out here man

There's something to be said about me talking about that while making my kallamar nonbinary, but I'll just say this: there are so, so many male characters out there. If there was a crowd of millions of characters and ONE GUY vanished, you wouldn't be able to tell. But if there was like...a broom closet with like 9 they/thems, you'd fuckin notice if one was gone. AND I DO. Nonbinary representation isn't good enough rn to be taking the very few they/them characters out there and being like "nope my headcanon is that you're just some guy/chick", especially when sooo many people do it. Me taking one sopping wet man out of that crowd and being like "you can still be a sopping wet man, but sometimes you're a girlfail and sometimes your gender is squid" isn't the same I don't feel, otherwise I wouldn't have done it. I can't stop anyone from making shamura binary, we're all just random internet artists and do as we please, but I'm still allowed to judge from afar. I've definitely had people judge my headcanons from afar lmao

edit: I walked away and had to run back because I need reiterate, if you give Shamura features that are seen as "binary" but keep them nonbinary I think it's cool and based, especially if you are also nonbinary and just want to connect with the character more. "Gendered features" or w/e that are on a nonbinary person don't detract from their nonbinary-ness and we don't owe anyone perfect androgyny. I have boobs and an hourglass shape but also a lot of body hair + mustache and a good amount of muscle mass, doesn't mean I'm more girly or manly.

Okay end of rant, I had to get that off my chest for like EVER tbh. I really really hate discourse or drama or w/e but this is a topic that does mean a lot to me, so I made an exception this one time to make my opinion known.

[svnscape]

32 - be a man

cw: slightly suggestive content.

you reached the main door of the familiar frat house with your heart in the pit of your stomach.

you were feeling so many things at the same time and none of them were making you feel good. this place was all too familiar even though your encounters with haechan in it were actually slim to none.

he never really invited you here when you guys started dating and you’re starting to wonder why.

maybe cause you’re literally the ex of his old best friend and for some reason everybody knew except for yourself.

this shit show has gone too far and the pity you were feeling for yourself is overwhelming you. you have never felt this small before and you hope whatever mark has to say will only make you feel better.

about yourself especially.

you realized how much you didn’t think this through when you see mark by the front door, his hair falling flat on his forehead, a plain black shirt enveloping his figure.

you weren’t here for him but you were here for yourself. to make amends with yourself.

this is not your fault y/n. you repeated to yourself as you walked towards him.

“hey” he greets you with a small smile, a hesitant hand extended before him.

you don’t take it. you’re not here for this.

you trusted yourself and your decision making capacities but at the same time your heart was so broken you didn’t know which way this evening was about to end.

you felt it in your gut,

this was not just a normal conversation.

you walk past him after giving him a quick and cordial nod, the overwhelming smell of the testosterone-filled environment, hitting you straight on the face.

it was funny, since nobody was here.

it’s also weird because this place had always meant “haechan” to you and now, being in it without him but with another guy almost felt like you were betraying him.

you realize how fucked you are if that’s how you were thinking about this whole situation, when the only betrayal you should be thinking about is what his scumbag ass did to you.

“can i get you something to drink?” you hear mark from behind you as he’s closing the wooden door.

“no thank you”

the silence wasn’t comfortable.

it was suffocating.

filled with so many questions and answers you wanted to hear but didn’t know if you were ready for them.

“y/n?”

you turn around towards mark’s voice when you realize you had gone upstairs, a hand carefully placed on the cold wall of the hallway that lead to the different rooms.

“i-” you close your eyes “just start talking. i don’t want to be here for longer than i should” you manage to get out between strained breaths and a tight throat keeping your sobs right inside, in your heavy chest.

“how much do you know” you felt his hand make its way towards your shoulder, a comforting touch you craved during this moment.

but you didn’t let it linger for too long as you turned around, yanking his hand with it, so you can face him and decipher what he looks like.

you will not be trusting a single word coming out of anybody’s mouth, you had to see it for yourself.

“just tell me why haechan did this to you. you said i didn’t know everything, so tell me, what happened” you hated how your voice cracked at the end and how mark’s face softened after that.

you should be pitying him, not the other way around.

you cannot let him see how much this is hurting you because you didn’t know if you could trust anyone.

but for some fucked reason, you were drawn to him first.

fuck. not again.

you were starting to doubt every single thing about this encounter when mark had slowly started getting closer to you, his voice low and tentative

“haechan wanted to get signed to a record label too. at that time, they only wanted to sign one person and it was me. they liked me better. i had told haechan about this and i guess he didn’t like it so he sabotaged me. i’m sorry y/n, i should’ve told you soo-”

“but he never told me music was that serious for him”

“of course he wouldn’t. it was something so personal only jaemin and i knew, he didn’t care much for you to actually tell you”

your heart breaks even more at that.

the realization of haechan’s cruelty and coldness only fueling that deeply buried feeling you thought you’ve lost. that feeling that fueled your deeply wanted esteem redemption.

ugh get back on track y/n.

“but wasn’t he your close friend? why did you never tell me about all of this?”

“y/n” mark sighs, his face darkening “i was barely functioning at the time and to be honest, haechan wasn’t good enough for me to tell you about him. i mean you’ve seen the consequences of getting involved with him”

he was right but still.

it almost felt like haechan was too important to him, his sole focus was on him and not on you to the point that he didn’t even remember the importance of mentioning him to you, or the other way around. he was all he thought about not realizing that you were there too and you deserved to be acknowledged.

this whole situation was just haechan, haechan and haechan.

you felt like whatever he did to you and to mark wasn’t even the point anymore.

it was his sole existence that made people want to talk about this, not his actual actions and their consequences.

you almost laughed at this whole thing.

props to haechan for being the center of attention even in the worst possible moments ever.

and to be very honest, it pissed you off.

you didn’t care much that what haechan did was out of pure frustration and revenge. and that same feeling was what motivated him to move to you and claim you as his next victim.

what pissed you off is that no matter what he’s done and keeps on doing, he always got the spotlight out of it.

nobody spoke about mark. nobody spoke about you.

it was always haechan this and haechan that.

even for mark. he hasn’t even checked if you were okay and what was the extent of haechan’s damage.

this whole thing was turning you into a version of yourself that you’ve always hated but had slowly found your way back to.

jeno was right, the way you deal with problems wasn’t your biggest forte.

you always end up doing something you’d regret.

just like now.

pushing mark on the wall and pressing your lips on his, feeling his breath hitch right above your lips.

“y-y/n” he breathes out in little faint gasps as his hands roamed all over your body, lingering for a bit longer on your waist.

“tell me” you answer back to him, his raspy voice muffled as his face was now between your neck and your shoulder, placing soft and wet kisses “were you jealous that i was with him?”

“y/n-”

you actually didn’t want him to answer that because you know his answer would only disappoint you even more.

as if this whole thing wasn’t already disappointing.

you were both doing this for completely different reasons.

his hand slowly makes its way under your shirt, making you gasp softly, arching your back from the cold wall.

“not in the hallway- what if someone sees us”

“i don’t think anybody is here” he lifts up his head, caressing your cheek with one hand as the other one was still latched around your waist. “do you want me to stop? i will if that’s what you want”

“get us a room” your voice was barely audible but mark quickly understood when your eyes were darting left and right behind him.

he quickly lets you go to grab your hand and take you to a room as you’ve requested. his steps were hurried and you could see him running a hand through his hair as if he was lost in thought.

you two finally reached a room, at the end of the hallway, as he slowly opens it and lets you walk in first before gently locking it behind you.

you don’t get to look around much as mark quickly walks backwards to sit on a chair whilst holding both your hands to drag you with him.

he sits down with a groan and pulls you forward on him, making you gasp as your body collided with his, his familiar woody scent overwhelming your senses.

this was giving you awful flashbacks as haechan also loved having you on top of him, hair all messy and mouth agape as he let out the filthiest of sou-

“y/n?” mark brings you back from your lustful thoughts, eyes slightly hooded as he watched you hover over him, your hair tickling his cheeks and collarbones.

without another word, he places for the second time this evening, both hands on your waist, lifting you up to place you right on top of him, on his lap, where you felt all of him, needy and hard.

you hold back your sounds as you felt him slightly grind up, begging for friction, both of his legs slightly shaky and his arms were now very well wrapped around you.

“mark you’re-”

“what do you think y/n? you’ve always had me like this” he gasps out a shaky laugh, his whole body convulsing as he grunted to adjust you on top of him.

“mar-”

“i need this” he closes his eyes, seeming to finally calm down a little, as his body stopped shaking and his arms were finally placed loosely around your body, their previous tight grip slowly disappearing.

this.

not you.

you hesitantly place a hand on his chest, his frantic rapid heartbeat bouncing back on your palm, a relieved sigh escaping his plump and wetted lips.

without giving it any more thoughts so you don’t regret it, you lean down and close the awfully painful gap between you two, your lips finally capturing his in another emotionally charged kiss.

he moans shamelessly, head thrown back on this rather comfortable and flexible gaming chair.

gaming chair?

you abruptly pull away, mark instinctively following your mouth, eyes still closed, lips red and parted.

“mark” you breathe out.

he opens his eyes reluctantly, his hands moving up your body to hold the back of your arms.

“yeah baby” his voice comes out raspy and deep.

“who’s room is this?”

you see him fully open his eyes, the previously dazed look he had replaced with a rather hesitant one as he shifted below you, the chair you were both on making an annoyingly loud noise as if it was answering back to your own doubts.

“it’s jaemin’s and haechan’s”

you can’t even be surprised because you knew it as soon as you’ve registered your surroundings. the familiar black and blue gaming chair that you’ve seen and memorized throughout your recurrent and almost daily night calls with haechan was now home to you and your scandalous endeavors with mark.

this has now confirmed every single doubt that painfully tormented your brain.

it’s always haechan.

but then what were these two, revenge filled complicatedly intertwined men, turning you into?

were you just about to have sex with your previous ex on your freshly renowned ex’s gaming chair?

were you just a weapon for these men so they can both hurt each other and have you be placed in the middle of their battlefield? and did you just let them accomplish exactly that?

when did it get all messy and dark?

prev — m.list — next

taglist: @bbykaixx @alwayswonbinning @weepingsweep @dudekiss3r @kukkurookkoo @hoeingthefuckup @gomdoleemyson @haeclips @luvvhaechan @hsified @heegyuwrld @lubunnii @firydst @daengiez @nahyuckers @httpsxnox @n0hyuck @hi00000234567 @scoobysnackszoo @minkyuncutie @yuthabitz @haechology @neogotmysam @sanniekook @kisseokiss @nqyzhuo @kooookie @lovenha7 @andassortedkpop @jising-jisang-jisung @markleesleftpinky @ourbeautifulaffair

a/n: why did jeno not tell y/n bro and let it get this far. jeno is NAWT the good friend he’s selling himself as

next chapters will be a bit more lighthearted so we can move on a little from this (we can’t but we’ll try)

[myokk]

different

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 4,2k

summary: Sebastian is not as she remembered.

cw: enemies to lovers, dark sebastian (I guess?), relic!Sebastian, smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected sex, maybe he has a breeding kink...I just don't know what to tag this it's angsty

a/n: or: Sebastian has probably gotten in over his head even though I don't specify what's going on with him🤭

Sebastian Sallow is not as she remembered.

There's something...unkempt about him. Feral. Unhinged. Uncontrolled. She feels absolutely ridiculous thinking it, of course, could never confide in anyone about what she's noticed.

Everyone knows she hates Sebastian Sallow and shouldn't be noticing anything about him. But...when they sit next to each other in their NEWT Arithmancy class and are forced to spend time with each other, there are things she cannot help but see.

Because of proximity, of course.

As she glances over to him, all she can think of is how his hair is more tousled than usual, a strange, feverish flush spread across already ruddy-freckled cheeks, his normally pristine uniform wrinkled and the top buttons undone. She is used to hating him from afar; their previous years at Hogwarts have been spent glaring at each other across the Great Hall, fighting to be the first to answer questions in class, him purposely antagonizing her and going out of his way to make sure she's annoyed by his presence and...

Well.

In the short first month of their seventh year (arriving to Hogwarts without his sister), so far he has been avoiding her. Avoiding everyone, really. More reclusive, less of the magnetic and commanding presence that demands people pay attention to him. As much as she thought she would rejoice the day he stopped bothering her, it is rather disconcerting.

He looks over at her, catches her staring at him, and his glazed-over-glossy eyes flash in fury.

"What," he hisses, barely disguised hatred poisoning his deep voice, "are you looking at?"

She starts, the quill she's holding slips out of her fingers and clatters to the table, and ink splatters across the page of notes she was working on. "N-nothing," she mumbles, before clearing the mess away with a wave of her wand.

The rest of their time together is spent in silence, both determined to not look at the other.

She secretly observes Sebastian any time they share a class - it's impossible to see him between classes, as he's disappearing to Merlín-knows-where, but he's still yet to be fully absent.

Some days, he looks better than others, almost like the mischievous Sebastian who used to torment her. A small smile might even grace his full lips.

But most days, there's an unhealthy pallor to his flushed skin, his shoulders holding an ungodly amount of tension; last week in Charms he snapped five quills in half, one for every squeak of Professor Ronan's chalk on the blackboard. She was sitting right behind him, unsure if anyone else noticed, but how could she miss it? The tension in his broad shoulders seemed to radiate off of him in waves, the skin she could see of his neck between his collar and his tousled hair was flushed and sweaty, and as soon as class was dismissed he was pushing his chair back and striding out with long legs, black robes billowing behind him.

This has been repeated more and more often as of late.

Where is Anne? -

"What do you think of Sebastian this year?" She's trying to act like she doesn't care about the answer, pushing food around her plate, resting her chin in her hand, but the truth is she's dying to have someone else acknowledge what she's been seeing.

"He's grumpier than usual," says Leander helpfully.

"He almost singed my eyebrows off in Charms," pipes up Garreth.

Cressida is too overcome by giggles to speak properly at first. "I've been trying to count the freckles on his forearms every chance I get," she confesses, "but every time I reach forty he turns around and I'm worried he'll kill me. Why? Are you upset he's finally moved on from his infatuation with you?"

None of them seem to be worried about him like she is. At Cressida's last question, she flushes and glances across the Great Hall and her eyes find his immediately. It's almost as if he's heard their conversation; his eyes are two black pits glowering into her own and she's worried that if she keeps staring she might fall in. Gaunt is sitting next to him, murmuring who knows what in his ear. The contrast between the two of them: one blond and elegant and deathly pale, the other flushed and disheveled and full of rage: is eerie.

She shivers and looks away.

As the days progress, Gaunt seems more and more upset with his friend. She catches the two of them having heated discussions under their breath on more than one occasion; the tip of Gaunt's wand flaring like his nostrils as they quarrel.

Normally, the two of them walk the halls of Hogwarts together like they own the place. The fact that they are almost never seen together anymore is preoccupying, to say the least.

She soon abandons any pretense of being nonchalant, of secretly watching, and finds herself looking forward (if it can be called that) to every class shared with Sebastian Sallow. His presence is intoxicating somehow - she couldn't look away from him even if she'd wanted to, and she is simply too curious to see how far he will fall.

Is he going to be normal today? she wonders as she sets up her station in Potions. Almost hoping to the contrary, but he doesn't show up.

She's...disappointed.

Or maybe she's just bored. Watching Sebastian has started to consume her, his strange behavior the only thing that seems to interest her these days.

When he barges into the Potions classroom five minutes late - not enough for Sharp to chastise him - their eyes immediately meet and he beelines for her station, unceremoniously dumping his bag at the empty spot next to her. Although they don't speak for the entirety of the class, she shows him the recipe she is working on and he pulls the cutting board towards him, surprisingly gentle with the knife as he starts chopping up the ingredients.

Soon, his robe is shed off. The classroom feels muggy and stifling and even she feels dazed from the heat and fumes of the combined cauldrons. He silently slides the cutting board to her, everything cut perfectly; she glances at him before nodding slightly and adding everything in with precision. Sebastian takes over the stirring as she adds the ingredients one by one, but soon he's pulling at his tie and collar to loosen then as he stands over the flames, rolling up his shirtsleeves and exposing his tan, freckled forearms. For one mortifying second she wonders if he's going to take off his vest too.

He's so different from the exasperating boy she thought he was. Before, he was mischievous and charming and annoying and always getting into trouble with his sister. But now...now, he's angry in a way she isn't used to: his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turn white, his dark brow always furrowed in displeasure.

She finds she wants to smooth it away with the pad of her thumb.

At the end of the class, they get a rare 'well done' from their professor, and then before she can blink Sebastian is striding out of the class just as quickly as he has been for the past month. She hurries to shove everything into her bag and stumbles out after him, almost sprinting to catch up as he's already at the end of the hall.

"W-wait," she gasps, reaching out a hand that grazes his sleeve. He slows down a bit but keeps walking, not acknowledging her presence otherwise. "Sebastian."

He stops at the sound of his name, the fury in his glare makes her pause - maybe she shouldn't be addressing him like this, but they were friends before, weren't they? And now he continues walking, much slower this time, but still with purpose.

She takes this as an invitation.

She doesn't let go of her grip on his robes, not wanting him to disappear on her again.

The truth is, although everyone knows she hates Sebastian Sallow, she always kind of liked the attention he gave her. Out of all of the girls he could have pursued - almost any of them - she was the only one he ever paid attention to. As much as she was exasperated by him in previous years, there had been a few moments last year when...

She shakes her head to get rid of the thoughts. Clearly, that Sebastian lives in the past, and the one she is following now is someone else entirely.

Sebastian pulls her into an empty classroom and whirls around to look at her after the door slams shut, his cheeks colored and more ruddy than usual, and her heart is pounding as she stares up at him. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to follow him, and she curses herself for her damn curiosity. But...she can't deny that a thrill runs through her body, heat pooling in her stomach as she sees him glower at her. Maybe she's missed having Sebastian's undivided attention, and now she has it.

"I-" he starts, taking a deep, shaking breath as he looks down at her. He closes his mouth, runs long fingers through his hair, disheveling it more (she quite likes it, but -), paces around the room. She just stands there, watching him, clutching the strap of the bag that's pressed across her chest. "I know you're watching me."

"I," he says again, looking down at her, his warm breath fanning across her face, "cant get you out of my damn mind. You're always there, and it's..."

She feels his words tremble down her face, slide down her neck; she shivers. In fear? In anticipation? Heat pools deep in her stomach at their intense eye contact, at the fact his mouth is mere inches from hers, the fact that he's looking at her like that.

"Y-you don't hate me?" she whispers, moving the tiniest bit forward. Her lips brush his lower lip as she speaks, a thrill runs through her body at the contact. Sebastian is stock still.

"No," he responds. This time he is the one who moves the tiniest bit forward, his head inclined the tiniest bit more towards hers. Now, with every breath she takes, every inhale, their lips are touching.

She doesn't know who moves first: between their shallow-soft breaths mixing and mingling and the general haziness of her mind that still lingers after their Potions class: all she knows is that somehow, their mouths have crashed together and all reasonable thought has left her mind.

As Sebastian's lips move hungrily - desperately - against hers, her fingers clutching the collar of his robes so she doesn't lose her balance, one of his hands grips her by the hips to keep her pressed against him. His other hand comes up to her face: caressing her cheek: bringing his thumb to her jaw to feel her pulse as they kiss: slowly moving to tangle itself in the soft hair at the nape of her neck so she can't pull away.

She feels as if she should feel embarrassed at all of the small noises escaping her mouth, but she can't help it. His lips are soft against hers, a contrast to the hard body pressing against her, the sharp angles of the desk she's being pushed against. And besides, Sebastian's making just as much noise as she is. The sinful noises coming from him are making an unfamiliar heat spread through her body, making her feel as desperate as he is acting.

But...- as she's moving to undo his tie, her mouth wandering down to kiss his pulse point as she uncovers it - noises that somehow slip through the hazy bubble of just her and Sebastian make her pause in fear. A burst of happily chattering students walks past the classroom and makes her wonder what the bloody hell she's doing.

They could have been caught - and then what? She would find herself in a forced betrothal to this bizarre, dangerous version of the boy she once knew. Because, of course, propriety would have to be followed.

It's as if the scales have fallen from her eyes and she pulls away from Sebastian slightly, her chest heaving. She just lost control of herself for one second. His strange magnetism hoodwinked her into thinking - or lack thereof, she's not sure that any thinking was involved when she kissed him back - that she wanted this.

There's no other explanation.

She pushes him away slightly, scowling at his bemused expression. Merlin, he's insufferable. His lips are swollen, his freckled face flushed, and all she wants to do is grab his stupid face and keep kissing him.

She pushes his chest again, and this time he stumbles back a bit. Now that she's free, she bends down to grab her discarded school bag, her robes crumpled to the ground at her feet. As she shrugs them on, she glances at Sebastian over her shoulder.

The open expression on his face is already starting to close off, the scowl that she's now used to taking its place.

If she had thought Sebastian Sallow was strange before their -

She gives her head a small shake and rests her chin on the palm of her hand, trying her hardest to listen to Garreth speak about whatever it is he's telling her. It's impossible however, with Sebastian sitting across the Great Hall from her.

There might be a couple hundred students sitting between them, chattering about inconsequential and trivial matters, but it's as if none of them exist. She knows how many times he's taken a bite of his lamb, how many time's he's turned to whisper something to Ominis before realizing that his friend is not by his side. It's a stormy night, and every so often an occasional bolt of lightning cuts the Great Hall in half, illuminating the whole room in an eerie light - almost making everything look black and white for a split second before thunder rumbles in the distance. And, she swears that every time the room is lit up, Sebastian is glowering straight into her eyes.

For as much as she is trying to pretend that he does not exist (and failing miserably), Sebastian is not hiding the fact that he is watching her. She can feel his eyes boring into her back as she walks down the halls between classes, and she feels uncomfortably seen in a way she is not used to.

She can't get rid of the feeling of being watched, not even when she knows she's alone in her dormitory. Sebastian and his all-consuming presence are haunting her mind, and she often finds herself waking drenched in sweat in the middle of the night, needing him in ways she isn't used to. In ways she decidedly doesn't want.

After her meal's finished, she scurries out of the Great Hall as fast as she can, like she has been for the past week since their wretched kiss. Another bolt of lightning shoots across the ceiling; everything is painted with that eerie silver light again for a brief moment and thunder is beginning to rumble through the air as the huge wooden door closes behind her.

She's not quite sure where she wants to go, and she makes a mental inventory of the castle. Her common room is boring - nobody of interest will be there and is she really just going to sit around by herself pretending to be occupied? The library is off-limits, due to Sebastian's propensity to show up in her periphery when she's trying to study, it's too early to sleep and she's scared of what might happen if she's alone in her bed, the...

She huffs as she marches aimlessly through the hallways. Maybe the occasional ghost crosses her path, but otherwise it's empty. Every suit of armor she walks past, every empty classroom, every portrait, reminds her of moments when she was spying on strange-not-the-same Sebastian this year. She hates him. Why couldn't this year be a continuation of the previous years, with their harmless flirtation? Things feel different this year, more dangerous, and...

Somehow, she ends up in the Transfiguration Courtyard, and she decides to march through it, rain be damned.

She's soaked to the bone by the time she reaches the old oak tree in the middle of the courtyard; the storm seems to have somehow picked up, but she finds she doesn't mind it. In fact, she might like it. In her own over-active imagination, she feels as if the rain is helping numb her over-sensitive emotions, the raw feeling she's been harboring in her chest all week isn't as awful as it has been all week.

She breathes a sigh of relief and lifts her face to the sky as the rain pours down against it; when she feels the brush of someone's robes against her arm as they sit by her side she isn't surprised.

It's inevitable, after all.

"Sebastian," she says, so quietly she isn't sure he can hear her over the noise of the storm, "why are you following me?"

If he says anything in response, she certainly doesn't hear it. But what she doesn't hear is made up for by his touch. A hand slides up her arm, clumsily - her eyes are still closed, face still upturned to the pouring heavens - and when it makes its way up to her jaw, tilting her head slightly, she lets him. When his lips brush against hers, she allows it.

(maybe she's been hoping for this very thing)

The kiss isn't sweet for long: maybe it's the cold rain, maybe it's the thunder rumbling in the background, maybe it's the quickly darkening night: but their kiss grows desperate faster than she can fully realize what's happening. Sebastian groans into her mouth, his lips hot and demanding against hers, and when his tongue swipes across her lips she lets him in without thinking.

It's impossible for any thoughts to be in her brain whatsoever, apart from the overwhelming lust that's currently heating up her body and causing her to be greedy and want more. Maybe, if she were in a proper state of mind, she would be embarrassed at how quickly his touch has unlocked something feral inside of her. Sebastian's hands are running down her back, sliding to her waist, pulling her closer to him. One hand comes up to brush against the underside of her breast and her gasp seems to spur him on.

She finds her hands moving of their own accord to caress his face, her fingers glide down his cheeks and up his neck to run themselves through his soaking wet curls - Merlin, what's gotten into them, into her? Snogging in the middle of a thunderstorm that only seems to be picking up.

She pulls away slightly, breathing hard as she finally peels her eyes open. Sebastian's eyes are dark, his brow furrowed as if to ask her why she's stopped; she just gives him a small smile, leaning forward to brush her lips against his before lacing her fingers through his and dragging him to the covered area of the courtyard overlooking the Lake.

She can see a question forming on his lips, but before he can say anything, she reaches forward and grabs him by his collar, pulling his face down to hers and he's eager to reciprocate. She's worried that maybe, if words are spoken between them, it could break the tenuous connection the two of them seem to have. Because they are connected somehow, aren't they? Something is compelling and pushing them together, time and time again, and she is simply curious to see where it's headed.

As his hands drag down her back, holding her tight at the waist, pulling her closer, she's reminded of the fact that they're soaking wet. She fumbles with her wand, whispers a hasty drying spell, and then it clatters out of her hand as Sebastian roughly pushes her towards the wall. She's moaning, gasping, yearning into his mouth as the kiss deepens, as she's pressed between the cold wall and his too-warm body, and she vaguely wonders if he can hear her, if he can taste her desperation for him in their kiss.

She's not quite sure what she wants, the sweet kisses she's shared with Garreth she now realizes were chaste in comparison to Sebastian's overpowering, addicting presence. He practically growls as he pulls his lips away from hers, but before she can whimper in protest, his lips have moved to her jawline, her neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses and it's all she can do to stay upright. Her head falls back against the cold stone wall, her hands scrabbling in his hair to hold him closer, try to find some purchase so she can stay upright.

Her knees go weak as Sebastian slowly moves a hand up her thigh, dragging her skirt along with it. The feeling of his fingers ghosting over her woolen stockings - her whole body is so sensitive that she may as well be wearing nothing - is causing an unfamiliar heat to pool low within her stomach and, oh, Merlin, he's reached the top of her stockings where her skin is bare. She doesn't recognize her voice as she moans, Sebastian moving his mouth back to hers to devour every noise she makes and - yes, she thinks, there: his hand grazes the edge of her knickers. He lets his fingers brush over her folds - barely-there touches that she's not even sure are happening outside of her imagination - and she is insensible. Nobody has ever touched her there apart from herself, lately, thinking of Sebastian - and she feels herself get wet at the mere thought of Sebastian touching her.

When he pushes her knickers to the side and starts slowly circling her clit with his thumb, all she can do is moan. His other hand is helping keep her in place, and she soon finds herself rocking against his hand. When he slips a finger inside of her, far from being uncomfortable, it causes a jolt of pleasure deep inside of her and she gasps against his mouth. She's unsure if she should feel embarrassed at how wet she is, but she's past the point of caring how she comes across.

"So good," Sebastian murmurs against her lips as he inserts another finger without warning, and she just moans in response, bucking her hips against his hand. He's curling his fingers inside of her, still rubbing her clit with his thumb, and he can But, as she feels pressure building deep within her, he slowly pulls his fingers out of her. She opens dazed eyes to glare at him, fully prepared to chastise him as how dare he stop? When -

Sebastian grabs her by the arse and lifts her up, and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist, her skirt still bunched up, still completely bare to anyone who were to walk past. He slides his arms underneath her knees, bracing his arms on either side of her, and she feels something decidedly different than his fingers pressing against her soaking wet entrance.

A bolt of lightning and its resounding thunder fill the air as she whimpers against his mouth while he slowly pushes himself inside of her - there's no resistance - how could there be, when she's as wet as she is? He stops once he's fully inside of her, pulling away from her mouth to take a deep, steadying breath. His lips move clumsily across her face - her eyelid, her nose, her cheek - as he gives her time to adjust to the feeling of him inside of her - Merlin - how does it feel so good?

Soon, however, Sebastian decides that patience is not a virtue, and he drives into her, hard, over and over again, and they fall into a rhythm of sorts. The obscene wet noises, his grunts, are overpowered by the storm around them, and she's unsure if he hears her moaning his name as she feels herself getting close. The heat inside of her, building up in her, is unbearable: "Please, Sebastian - don't stop - please -"

He doesn't slow down his pace, hiding his face in her neck, desperately kissing her wherever he can, and she could almost cry in relief as her orgasm crashes over her; she shudders against his mouth, moaning so loudly it's nearly a scream. Her every muscle tenses, contracts, her body is squeezing and trying to hold Sebastian inside of her for as long as it can, and yet he doesn't slow his pace at all. It's unbearable - she's so, so sensitive, and yet he doesn't stop.

But then - his whole body tenses against her and he pushes himself as deep inside of her as he can. He gives out a low groan, pulling away from her slightly to look her in the face as he comes. It's an expression she has become accustomed to this year, uncontrolled, dangerous, and as the two of them are breathing hard, staring into each others' faces, realizing what they've just done, he moves slightly. He's still deep inside of her, she can feel every twitch he makes, but...when he moves...

Something metallic clatters out of his robes.

Lightning strikes, and, through half-lidded eyes, she sees a strange object fall to the ground.

"Sebastian, what -"

He hushes her with a dizzying, toe-curling kiss as he slips out of her.

[solarbiomechanist]

that very same phone could have a free painting app on it, you could be writing poetry or fanfic or whatever the hell you want rather than... declaring that you don't have the money to enjoy life as though the person telling you you could get more out of life is attacking you personally.

That's deeply bored and stressed ape behavior right there, to give center stage to the fact that us humans are animals like any other, at the end of the day, with needs and limits like every other animal has. The same amount of time spent writing that and being focused on being angry could have been spent cloud watching and it would have been better for that person in terms of giving them time where they are not being overloaded with sensations from the outside and have time to actually think inside their own head.

I get wordy after the cut, also

CW; food insecurity, general mentions of abuse recovery, general mentions of shit life conditions. All of it is from a perspective that is post-everything, and with the intention of describing what helped rather than dwelling in doom or decompressing emotionally.

A lot of us could benefit massively from making ourselves sit in relative quiet and watch the world go by, actually. It doesn't feel good, at first. The internal pressure to seek out a distraction was immense, it felt like I just *couldn't* sit still without looking at my phone for five minutes, let alone fifteen, but eventually that empty space started to be filled in by awareness of my own thoughts and feelings, in clear lines from end to end, rather than as the threads I was constantly tangled in and tripping over. There was space to stop stewing in my emotions and start cooking with them, so to speak. The same background thoughts and feelings I had been replaying the worst parts of over and over finally had the time to run all the way to the end and turn into either 1. Not actually a problem 2. Not a problem I could do anything about, therefore not worth worrying about until something changes 3. Something I could do something about, therefore a plan and not a cloud of dread. 4. A problem that I couldn't do anything about but that I cannot stop worrying about because it affects everything (like food access problems) therefore; make room for the fact the worry will persist but still do my damndest to not worry about the parts I cannot control. If I had food and had a plan for how I would get food at the next interval within my control, the longer term and the points between the points of control were not worth worrying about, they would simply be what they were. Hoping for good luck is fine, feeling miserable in it's absence is wasting energy.

At least, that's what I decided to think, in order to give myself a sense of control I desperately needed while my life was falling apart, and admittedly now that my life is back together (as much as it can be in current circumstances), it's really fucking hard to do more than momentarily unsettle me. As long as I am the one who determines my actions, I can take action about actionable problems, and choose to not worry about non-actionable problems. As long as the choice is mine, and it is, then I am not at the level of the worst problems I have ever survived.

Most people have not had the experiences I have had and I am glad for that. I don't expect everyone around me to have the carefully constructed resilience I made in order to reclaim my life as my own, but I'm pretty sure a lot of the tools don't actually require having gone through a baffling variety of nonsense to learn and make use of, so I do my best to spread the word about "you are generally in control of most of your actions, therefore you can make choices about your life. That is a good thing. You are not powerless and anyone who tells you you are does not have your best interests at heart. Not acting is also a choice amd sometimes it is the right one for you." and "if you look around, there's usually something to play with. You may need to broaden your definition of play and your definition of thing, but there's generally at least a rock or a blade of grass and human civilization has gotten a lot done with those two things, so you can too! Go forth, make art." And "having a clear idea of who you want to be gives you a guide of how you should act when you are not feeling clear-headed or situations are evolving rapidly, but developing that internal compass requires taking the time to think about your actions before making them, and then consistently actually acting. If there is something keeping you from taking the time to think through your actions before making them even when there isn't a crisis, it might be best to consider whether that thing is a necessity in your life. If there is something keeping you from acting, it might also be best to consider whether that is necessary in your life. An overabundance of guilt generally does not prevent more harm than it causes."

Thank you for reading. That went a lot more places than I was expecting and didn't keep on one topic extraordinarily well, but I'm still pleased with what I've written for the most part.

This person wrote a manifesto I ain’t reading all that but this is literally the type of behavior im talking about the idea hobbies all cost money is so removed from reality if you have the time to pick up your phone and write 7 paragraphs on how im victimizing you with my offhanded post you have the time to watch a movie on YouTube with your very same phone instead come on now. How is you freaking out on the internet helping any of these issues

[jinuaei]

I saw this comment on tiktok from a yautja Warlord edit and hngghhshsgsgshhsh

I know they meant something else but AUGH THE WARLORD GETTING INCREDIBLY PHYSICALLY EXCITED FROM A HUMAN FINALLY SPILLING HIS BLOOD.

WC: 750 Warning: Lewd asf, NSFW 🔞, MDNI

Like you are TERRIFIED looking at him, shakily dropping down the arm that held that damned flintlock pistol, you only had one shot but it was enough to hit him and stop him from advancing further.

He examines the blood on his fingers, intrigued at the fact that a mere human was able to get a hit on him, HIM! The Warlord! As he looks at you he has never felt so... alive, so excited, so... aroused.

Underneath his skin, he can feel his green blood boil, not in rage, but in want, in need, for this human, for his soft, terrified little human. And you are nearly pissing your pants, yes you have killed that yautja that hunted you down, but that was mostly blind luck and this one is far above the dead one. Like the Warlord is at least 3 foot taller than the one you fought, and you just know you are fucked just by seeing his dark gaze on you.

Knowing your death was nearing, you moved first before he could, turning around to run towards the ship while the other 3 humans called out to you. But you, being human, are too slow against an experienced hunter, and just like prey, you are caught between his claws.

The viking and samurai moved to save you but you chose to sacrifice yourself, knowing that even if you had been saved you can't do anything than to be a burden. Still, they took a chance but were quickly pushed back by the swarm of yautjas called by the warlord.

The said warlord did not want the humans to save his little one, knowing that if they did, there's a chance he won't be able to see you, unless he chooses to hunt you down himself. (Which he will, just to make his claim and victory just a tad bit sweeter, but he's too impatient to play with his prey)

Within moments, the ship full of humans left the vicinity, but unexpectedly the Warlord did not command his clan to hunt. (He felt merciful that day, giving the team a head start before he’d dispatch his own clan on them, as a thank you for leaving you with him.) 

You are not so lucky, still caught between his claws, you squeeze your eyes tight in preparation for your death, his breath hot on your ear as he moves his head closer to you. You thought he would bite your head off or something, but instead he licked a tear that you didn’t realize was flowing down your cheeks. He grumbled something but without the collar, you cannot understand him anymore, but it must mean something good (debatable) because he shifted your position from him gripping your torso to throwing you over his shoulder while not so subtly groping your ass.

Your struggles to escape must have amused him based on the laugh like noise coming from his mandibles. Still, he did not let up his groping, instead, your struggling must have made it worse because one of his claws insistently slipped in between your thighs, trying to feel up your private parts. You clench your thighs in response, but he just purred loudly, amused by your reaction.

The warlord is of course enjoying his feisty human, getting more and more aroused the more they struggle, he knows that he will not be bored once he beds them. Feeling them up is honestly one of the smartest and dumbest things he has done, knowing that he’s a moan away from snapping and taking you then and there. He can feel you trembling underneath his fingertips, your thighs warm and soft, he cannot wait to feel it wrapped around his head while he tastes you with his tongue.

As much as he would love to get started, he knows how fragile humans can be (though he knows you can take more than a beating) and he wants to spoil you, so he chooses to bring you in his own quarters, laid upon his love nest, wrapped around the most exquisite furs while surrounded by his trophies. You cannot be treated any better than that. 

He lets you take in the room first before indulging in his desires, intending to play with you and make you feel so good that you’d be clawing and biting at him to stop, wanting to feel alive again by the wounds you’ll inflict. (But he will admit to himself that it will only spur him on further, enjoying the pain that your nails bring him)

[to-the-stars8]

Here’s a little whip while I battle a bit of writer’s block. Pls forgive any mistakes, I wrote this on my phone:

Jason didn’t want to be there. It was too loud, too crowded. He felt cramped to one corner of the bar, watching everyone else laugh and smile.

There was a bit of envy in his chest as he noticed everyone talking with such ease. He was jealous that they could be with each other without worrying about ulterior motives or how they looked.

They just were.

He wanted to hate Roy and Dick for dragging him along to their night out. Yet, they had made it sound so nice. They’d suggested that he might finally get out of that hard shell he’d made and maybe—just maybe—he’d meet someone.

He hated that once they suggested someone might look at him with something other than disappointment or anger, he easily relented.

Roy had gone off to talk to some blonde on the other side of the bar, dragging Dick along as a wingman. Jason stayed, nursing a beer as he scanned the room.

Then, you appeared. He blinked and there you were, leaning against the bar as you yelled your order to the bartender.

His eyes flickered down your body, quietly admiring the way you dressed hugged the dips and curves of your hips and thighs. A waft of vanilla had hit him when you got close, maybe it was your perfume. Whatever it was, it did something to him. When he noticed you staring pointedly at him, a small smirk on your lips, he turned away, mumbling an apology. Though he doubt you heard it over the music.

“Hey,” you said, leaning closer. “Not to sound weird, but you have really pretty eyes.”

Jason turned back to look at you, surprised. You giggled, inching closer with a look of interest. The only time your eyes looked away was when the bartender set your drink onto the counter.

“Thank you,” Jason yelled over the music.

You smiled. “You’re welcome.” There was a brief pause, like you were considering what you were about to say. Eventually, you asked, “What’s your name?”

“Jason.”

You got excited, eyes brightening. “I love that name! It reminds me of a poem.”

“Medea?”

“No,” you laughed. “The Argonautica!”

Your eyes were bright, and you stepped closer. Now there was less than a foot was between you, and your hand was testing the waters by slowly caressing his forearm. Jason took a swig of his drink to seem casual—Just so he didn’t look like his heart was pounding out of his chest.

“What’s your name?” He asked after a second.

You told him, and Jason thought there couldn’t have been a prettier name in the world. Suddenly, your hand was in his, playing with his fingers. He let you touch him, because, somehow, it felt so good.

“You don’t mind this, do you?” You asked.

“You’re a bit late on asking that,” Jason pointed out.

You giggled, putting his hand on your hip as you pressed yourself closer to him. Jason gave it a squeeze, relishing in the softness of your body.

“You can tell me to stop,” you commented, letting your other hand trail up his chest.

“No,” he said without thinking. “I don’t think I will.”

You laughed again, rubbing up over his chest and down his arms like you’d known him for years and not just five minutes. Or maybe it was ten minutes. Jason was too lost in your touch to know how long it’d been.

“Why are you over here all alone?”

Jason only stated, “I don’t like crowds. Stresses me out.”

You nodded in agreement. “A quirk I cannot laugh at.”

He cocked an eyebrow and squeezed your hip again. This was getting dangerous, you were disarming him too well. Worse, he was letting this happen all too easily. “Was that a Pride and Prejudice quote?”

You gasped, pulling back a little with an impressed look about your face. “A man who reads? Interesting! In any case, it was piss-poor, misquoted reference.”

“I still got it.”

You stared up at Jason before stepping closer, your lips pressing against his jaw lightly before you leaned up toward his ear. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Yeah,” he breathed as he pulled you flush against him.

Your hands curled into his shirt. “What would you like for breakfast tomorrow?”

[cherrycrvsh]

biiiiiig sigh. ,,,, hi. this feels terribly awkward for me, so bare with me.

some of you might’ve known me as @/spcherryygirl or viridiana. i hadn’t quite intended to return so soon—or at least, not publicly—but it seems a few anons (plural? singular? lol i’m not sure) have been going around telling people that i'm back. i’m not angry,,,,, exactly, but i can’t pretend i’m not a little upset. not at anyone in particular. just this. it’s not that i don’t want to be moots again or that i’m hiding from people i genuinely care about. it’s just that i had hoped to keep things quiet for a bit.,, like baby steps( that's a horrible example, but pretend it isn't. ) but now that the 'asks' were sent, there is nothing i can do about it. oh, and to clear things up( bc i think it'll cause some confusion ): the reason i deactivated wasn’t because of my parents or because someone forced me to delete all of my socials. it was because of the anons. specifically, the ones who kept sending awful things to my inbox. i know others go through similar things, and my heart goes out to them. but that doesn’t mean i didn’t feel unsafe. i mean, would you feel okay when someone tells you that you should get ____ because that happened to a character with your name?

i’m sure some of you saw the post on my old blog about the asks. how the asks were so,,, yikes.( will show one ask under the cut. tw: ew-ie nonnies ) i don’t even like to name it. but god, it was disgusting. it started last month, it was kept going. three, five times a day. every single day( like, dude, how many accounts do you have? ). it got to the point where just opening tumblr made me feel sick. so i deactivated without goodbyes. which, i know, wasn’t fair to both my moots and followers. especially because i promised a 1k event. and i’m sorry for that. i had planned to return( publicly )when things felt okay again. i was always going to find my way back to my moots, just not like this. really, i was. especially because all of you are such sweethearts. patient and understanding enough even though i lied about my reason of leaving.

but i cannot undo what has been done. so, hi. bye.

tagging a few of my moots since i didn’t tell them about this post directly. i just want to say thank you for being understanding, for not being upset with me when i left,,, and for supporting my decision to step away. xoxo ♡.

@yeoniverseee , @bloodwrittenletters , @petalbcrnes , @rainforcsts , @jjsblueberry , @simpingmyassoff , @yintous , @xoxorory , @gibsluv , @laufeysgoddess

[capesandshapes]

When getting a cat or a dog, please also think of the long term costs associated with having them and the care they will need down the line. Assume that animal will be with you until one of you passes.

If your life changes unexpectedly down the line and you are unable to provide adequate care for an animal, that's fine, please don't subject it to a lower quality of life.

But too many people get puppies and kittens and care for them when they are young without an idea of what the rest of life looks like for them or how long an animal's senior years really are.

I adopted my dog when he was six years old. I've had him for five years.

One month after I got him, side effects from established periodontal disease kicked in. He lost his first tooth and then three more. Dentals became something I had to financially account for.

Two years after I got him, arthritis began to show its head. Months later we began a medication to improve his mobility. Year four to five, the medication became near daily 3/4s of the year and he began being carried up the stairs and provided with ramps. He has blood work biyearly going on quarterly soon enough. We had to go in for canine anxiety and get a prescription because he was starving himself due to construction last fall. I paid hundreds for an emergency trip and treatment for a kidney infection in the past year.

He is in good health and well cared for, the vet says he's happy, and for the most part he will likely make it to sixteen.

But there is emotional and physical labor associated with caring for an aging pet, as well as the glaring financial cost.

I love him, and I'm glad that I can financially provide for him, but a lot of people get a dog while they are young and energetic only to re-home them once they hit the adult to senior stage because of the cost, and it is harder to rehome them and for rescues to afford their care.

Not to mention the impact of taking an animal from an environment they've grown in for years and introducing them to new people and a new way of being. The people after you won't understand everything your pet does if you've had them for the majority of their lives-- it's been almost six years and occasionally some environmental triggers will go off and cause my old man to break down for no reason. I've only been able to piece together some, but it's clear that even though he's adjusted to his new lifestyle, traces of his old one remain. If I were to re-home him as he is now, I'm not confident that anyone would fully understand his quirks and mannerisms or take on the financial cost associated with him, he has to be picked up and held a certain way and has a habit of signaling for things he knows will please me that would likely drive other people crazy. (Not everyone is going to know that he scratches to alert for the microwave and rice cooker. Or that he's and the same feeding times for five years.)

I have a close friend whose dog is 17, there's been several close calls where it seemed like he was going to die. In the 16 years that I have known this dog, his physical health has slowly deteriorated. He's happy still, which is good, but more of an example of the realities of the physical tolls associated with pet ownership. He is a 40 lb pug mix that cannot go up the stairs or down them anymore, he has to be carried. He takes twice daily seizure medication. He goes to the vet monthly. He is missing many teeth, attempts are made to brush the ones he has left. He wears diapers and needs to be changed frequently to protect against utis. He has a thyroid problem that manifests itself in scent, weight, and bald patches if medication is not given and continual care for these side effects is not maintained.

Twice a year my friend's family and the vet review the same question: is it time? The answer has consistently been the same, it is not time until his quantity of care outpaces the life he gets out of it, it's not time unless they no longer have it in them to care for them at that level. Which is a hard reality to face, and an even harder question to ask yourself-- are you capable of caring for your pet at this point to the quality that makes their life worth living?

They know the end is near, but after years together it becomes more difficult to say when it's actually here. The care is something that creeps up on you as the years go by, it's not something you initially plan for, but it's one of the stark realities of pet ownership that's important to acknowledge.

There is an emotional labor with having pets just as there is with children, and the choice to have one should be treated with heavier consideration than it is.

These animals depend on us, and they love us, which makes it all the more important for people to actually consider the realities associated with pet care.

Anyway, dog tax.

ik people get so mad but honest to god the hill i'll die on is that if you are not willing to put in the effort to properly take care of and healthily maintain your pet you should not have one.

I KNOW i know they're comfort animals that bring you lots of benefits, no matter the creature, but some of you guys are literally causing so much fucking harm to your pets it's unreal.

cats are not meant to be fat and are rather athletic animals that need much more enrichment and exercise than most people are even remotely willing to provide them with.

birds require a lot of precise care and are not meant to be touched or pet in places people love to pet them.

reptiles and amphibians have really strict environmental needs and get stressed super easily.

fish need way more space than most people are willing to give them.

rodents need more space and better environments to safely thrive in than what most people are willing to give them.

different dog breeds require vastly different care methods and environments for peak health and functionality.

contrary to popular belief you CAN'T just adopt an animal and give them the bare minimum (food, water, litter box) and call it good. you NEED to know how to take care of them. you completely control the trajectory of their health and safety.

people are out here hurting and killing their pets and acting like they have a god-given right to do so.

[whereispearlescentmoon]

It annoys me when people try to force curses into working, ex. people finding excuses post SL and WL for why the Canary Curse still exists. It was good while it lasted, but stretching out any bit farther than it's natural lifespan is just painful. I prefer recognizing patterns, whether performance or character-wise, like Pearl's teammates dying before her despite her specifically trying to help them win.

I think it’s actually more interesting to me personally to look at what happens when a “curse” breaks or fails. How does the person it previously affected react?

Jimmy isn’t a canary anymore. He hasn’t died first since Limited Life. He died second in Secret Life and 6th in Wild Life. He didn’t even get the first death in the series in either of those, those honors go to Martyn and Pearl respectively. He didn’t even get a unique death in WL. He died at the same time as Lizzie, if you check the fan wiki they are both listed as 12th place because even though his name popped up first, they died on the same game tick. You cannot say he’s a canary anymore without some massive reaches.

But what’s interesting to me is, rather than trying to find some roundabout way the curse somehow still applies, figuring out what that means for Jimmy now. Why isn’t he dying first any more? Has he changed, gotten more skilled in some way? Has the game changed in a way that aligns more with his play style? What is Jimmy like as a red life when he has time to play? All of that you can examine without insisting he still has the curse.

And I don’t particularly like saying the curse the transfers to a new person because that also doesn’t make sense? Lizzie died first in Secret Life, yes, but she wasn’t cursed because it wasn’t a repeating pattern. Mumbo died first in Wild Life. If anything you could do something interesting with the fact that Lizzie and Jimmy, the first outs of the previous seasons, died together, simultaneously. That’s kind of cool to explore. But it doesn’t make sense as a “canary” curse.

As for Pearl, I almost feel a similar way about her “Widow’s Curse” and talking about whether or not it was actually broken in Wild Life. Like I think there’s genuinely two arguments to be had about it.

The first argument is that Pearl didn’t outlive all of her allies because Cleo was still alive. And what does that mean for Pearl? She’s get some solidarity, some comfort and direction that she normally doesn’t get once all her allies are dead.

On the other hand, you could also argue it didn’t break because, frankly, keeping Cleo alive was never Pearl’s goal. It was to keep Impulse alive and get him a win and she failed. After his death she is aimless and despondent and, by her own admission, didn’t heal up before the final fight because she didn’t care about placing well herself. Because Pearl’s particular brand of “Widow’s Curse” isn’t about just outliving your ally it’s about outliving the people she promised she would get to the end at the very start of the game. Pearl promises BigB and she fails him. She gives him her blood, her time, and it isn’t enough to save him. Pearl promises Bdubs and she fails him. She prioritizes getting him underground during the wither and warden fight, tells him then that she wants him to get to the end, she is determined, and it isn’t enough to save him. Pearl promises Impulse and she fails him. She gets him a totem, dies to each wild card as an almost cautionary tale, and it’s not enough to save him.

And yet. There’s an exception. Because nothing can be a neat little curse. Because Pearl hasn’t failed every ally, has she? She was allied with Scott in Last Life, and a good ally. She kills for him. Scott won, and he won after saying “I have to, you killed Pearl” to Ren. And if we’re just saying Double Life started the curse with Tilly dying, well there’s an exception after that too. In Secret Life, it comes down to the Mounders vs Gem and The Scotts and Pearl decides Scar is one of her Mounders now. She says if it comes down to it she wants him to kill her for hearts. She mostly stays back and lets him fight Gem, after making a blow to solidify whose side she’s on, with the confidence that he will win. And he does! She even gets to die giving him enough hearts to survive the zombie she warned him was behind him.

So did Pearl ever really have a “Widow’s Curse”? She’s got bad luck, that’s for sure, and a not great track record with Day 1 allies in particular since Double Life. But technically two of Pearl’s allies have won. And she didn’t outlive Cleo in WL.

Is it not more interesting to look at the intricacies of the particular way each different season that Pearl manages to outlive her day 1s rather than just slapping “Widow” on it and calling it a day?

[unnaturalequilibrium]

I enjoyed watching their scenes from the start. The actresses played well off each other and the writing was sarcastic and fun, but I didn’t actually ship it until this scene in the rain. And to be honest it’s not the scene itself that got to me, it’s how it was presented and when it was presented in the narrative.

The writers send a wounded Kleya off rudderless into the forest and by having the scene bleed into Partagaz suicide it sets a tone which slowly chills your stomach. You get this melancholic imagine burned into your retina as Kleya disconnects herself from the machines monitoring her wellbeing and then steps out into the rain. Especially melancholic as the scene plays out beneath the hypnotic lull of Nemik’s manifesto which starts off on “there will be times when the struggle seems impossible, I know this already, alone, unsure, dwarfed by the scale of the enemy-” That is what we leave Kleya on, that is the note on which she unhooks her lifelines and walks out into the dark void on. Only for it to be directly followed by Partagaz killing himself. It sets quite the dark tone in you mind. Instantly as we close out on the muffled blaster shot you worry not for the dead fascist, but for the roaming spy out in the cold. Worry real fucking bad that she too is about to walk the perimeter of self-harm town. What is there to stop her?

Fast forward to where we’ve got Vel at the same time. Vel is being an adorably sentimental little lesbian and is pushing for Cassian to reconnect with Bix. Sure the scenes is there to punch us in the gut as we as the audience already know that such a reconnection is not on the table and that Cassian will be dead soon. It does however also work as a good snapshot of what Vel’s mindset is like and the emotions she harbours. For her that human connection is something worth pushing and striving for. It’s made clear she is still pretty broken in her own grief, but to her human emotion and love are worth pursuing even in the face of all the darkness. Maybe she doesn’t see it for herself, but she pushes those around her towards it.

So we have a lost and emotionally unmoored Kleya with potentially suicidal tendencies and you have an equally lost Vel who is shown to still treasure, champion and maybe even yearn for love even though she herself have suffered grief because of past experiences. Those are the two ships that are sent off into the Yavin night with the sole purpose of crashing into each other. Two people in different stages of grief, but with an equally deep need for tenderness.

I don’t know which one we are supposed to assume saves who through the rainy encounter. But Vel gets a reason to care, a reason to comfort and a reason to be put together. Kleya on the other hand gets a safety-net, compassion to catch her in its webs as she’s free falling. A familiar person who anchors her to the moment, the cause and to herself. Suddenly the latter part of Nemik’s manifesto makes a comeback in your mind, “remember this, freedom is a pure idea, it occurs spontaneously and without instruction”. Which maybe isn’t just referring to freedom in its more traditional sense, but also as a synonym for human connection. Care, compassion and love are all spontaneous acts and cannot be killed no matter how many restrictions or legislations you try to apply to them. In that moment, in that scene, you feel it - the unstoppable flow of human connection occuring without instruction.

Whatever that connection between them is actually supposed to be canonically – well it’s up for interpretation, but personally it bumped the pieces into a position where I suddenly raised my eyebrow at what had come before. It was the metaphorical equivalent of being handed a blacklight in an Amsterdam hotelroom. I can now suddenly see what was always there, but which wasn't visible to my naked eye before. Am I pleased I now know what’s there? Maybe not entirely, because who needs more rare!pairs in their life?! Not me necessarily, but here we are and there’s no putting it back once you’ve seen it. Because you realise that for these two the show was actually just the prologue. Whatever their story is, it actually began there in the rain and the end - well it is yet to be written, but does appear to involve each other.

[fakedoe]

Do you have more swap AU Pearl lore I can use for my definitelynotafanfictionbasedonthisauthatihavenoplanstopostbutwanttocreateforyouanywaysbecauseilikethisauanywaybyeeeeee

im sorry for long wait, i had to ask my dear friend @nibpaint to translate whole text! here:

Swap AU lore:

Everything is just like in canon except a few key moments:

- Everything happens during the first 5 seasons, NOT THE MOVIE

- Pearl was left on the jungle moon instead of the garden

- Pearl will give Pink the idea to shapeshift into Rose Quartz

- Spinel DOESN'T KNOW Rose and Pink are the same person

- Rose will convince Spinel to shapeshift into PINK to stage the shattering

To start, the lore im trying to put into words here is still in development and many things still need to be refined and polished

For example, i couldn't figure out a reason why Pink would bring Spinel along with her... But here's everything i was able to come up with:

Pearl gave Pink the idea to become Rose and at one point they went to grab some kind of info from Yellow's base on jungle moon. Idk what they were searching for but while they were, something happened, which made Pink leave, telling Pearl - "Wait for me here, I'll come for you soon"

But when Pink left, Yellow found out she was sniffing around in her base and locked her out of it, which separated Pearl and Pink completely

Pink wasn't upset though, since she believed that it's for the better. The idea was that Yellow would fly to the base and check what Pink was doing there, finding and taking Pearl with her in the process anyway

like i said, i don't know yet why would Pink bring Spinel along, but i suppose it could be so that Pink could fix her mistakes. She thought it'd be better if Pearl was taken away, and if she took Spinel with her, she'd be able to convince her to switch sides, change her mind, free her from the suffering she and other diamonds could've caused her

Therefore, at some point Pink started acting cold towards Spinel, playing the villain, pretending like Rose Quartz created a bunch of problems and she doesn't have time for Spinel's games

After a while, Spinel meets Rose and they discuss everything that's been going on. Rose suggests Spinel joins her, looses the diamonds' chains and contributes to world peace efforts

Spinel agrees, but becomes a double agent. She joins crystal gems as a Pink diamond's spy in hopes that this way Pink would pay more attention to her, but it doesn't lead to anything besides Pink being disappointed in Spinel, which results into her never opening up about the fact that Pink and Rose are the same gem (making Pearl the only knowing person)

and when Spinel sees that nothing is helping, all while Rose is showing her the world from a never-before-seen angle, she joins the crystal gems out of desperation

here comes a part that is difficult for me to write without any plot holes (im banking on Spinel's cluelessness)

Rose suggest they stage Pink's shattering, saying that this way they should also be able to leave the diamond, which Spinel cares so much about, alive

The plan was: Spinel shapeshifts into PINK and Rose poofs her in front of everyone, creating an illusion of crystal gems succeeding in their cause

Before it happens, Rose asks Spinel to never talk about it afterwards

After the diamonds' attack, dumbfound and scared Spinel couldn't talk about it at all, she kept Roses' lie and didn't have the same feelings canon Pearl had

Also, she sincerely believed that Pink was alive, she could've even joked about it but no one took her seriously

Spinel was only partially upset when Steven was born: She didn't mourn for Rose, she was more concerned with the secret left behind on her shoulders

And in "A Single Pale Rose" Spinel somehow tells Steven the truth, that Rose is a liar and didn't shatter Pink, that the whole thing doesn't really click for her, since Pink is supposed to be alive but the diamonds act like she isn't (Spinel really cannot wrap her mind around the fact that Pink is dead)

Then Pearl appears, and finally tells everyone the truth about everything, which breaks Spinel

Pearl's combat style is drastically different from canon Spinel, she's quieter, stealthier, elegant yet quick, leaving her foes no room to think.

[a-very-tired-jew]

1) So we're trending towards RCP 4.5 right now, which is the 1.8-2C temperature increase by the end of the century. There is a possibility that we get on to the higher RCPs which result in a higher temp increase. To stay on the RCP 4.5 path and remain on the lower end of the temp increase, 1.8C, we need to reduce total global GHG emissions by 43% consistently. The 5% reduction we saw simply from lifestyle changes during the pandemic regarding transportation indicate that it would need to be a lot more than civilians addressing their carbon footprint. 3) So I use the latest IPCC report which synthesizes and analyzes data and studies from previous years. In their report they label total GHG emissions from Agriculture at 22% and lump energy, transport, industry, and buildings (commercial/residential) together in the remaining amount. The report mentions throughout it that the agriculture sector is consistently improving and adapting its methods to an every changing climate and reducing its overall emissions (compare this to previous reports where the Ag sector worldwide was 27% or more of total GHG emissions). This is due to improved practices ranging from agro-ecology to genetic techniques and other such things. There is no doubt that the trend in the agricultural sector is decreasing emissions while improving yields. Now regarding this part here: "also, while it's true we use other parts of the animal, your comparison to almonds is disingenuous. a better comparison would be cheese vs. almonds - both can be produced while the animal/plant is still alive. incidentally, the category containing nuts in clark's study is at #28." That's the issue though. We don't have anything out there that are treated in the same manner and produce the same amount of goods. I used Almonds because back in the day, about a decade ago, people were talking about water usage and intensity and doing the "X amount per lb" argument, the counter point of which is the next most intensive non-animal crop being almonds. This was a common argument I heard a lot back in the 10s when I was in the early stages of my career as a professor. The crux of it is that it is disingenuous because there is no plant or plant based product that can compare. You simply cannot produce medicines, food, garments, and industrial products from one singular plant the way you can from a cow. It's a false comparison that once it was pointed out it was quickly dropped by a good portion of the scientific community because it did not make sense. In order to produce any of these other things we have to go into processes that are more harmful and/or less effective in the long run. This is why you don't see scientists rushing to say we need to abandon animal agriculture, because the alternative methods are simply not up to par to meet the demand for all the other byproducts without being worse. I highly recommend looking up all the byproducts that are produced from the cattle industry and look up the alternative methods in their production (to give a non-comprehensive list: insulin, chymotrypsin, pancreatin, glucagon, heparin, prolactin, and many, many more). Now, does animal Ag have an impact? There's no doubt and I'm not saying it doesn't. However, 11% of total emissions (assuming half of the 22% from the IPCC report) is less daunting than the other 78% from the other sectors, and consider the fact that the Ag sector has been consistently reducing its emissions when compared to previous years due to the advancements being made.

Also, yes, Greta does believe people should be vegan or at least vegetarian and has advocated for that for years.

4) Regarding me ascribing maliciousness, I don't think that's the case. I think it's ego where she's no longer relevant and is vastly under educated on the topic that she made a good portion of her life about, and the chickens are coming home to roost (so to speak). You can't be a leader or a voice in a movement that is based upon a scientific concept that has experts across vastly different fields working together, collaborating, and exchanging data in order to address the problems and come at it with "solutions" from a lay person's perspective. Science based activism does not work that way. It's like someone telling me they want to "save the bees" and all they offer me is "plant more pollinator friendly plants". Cool. We've been doing that for years and there's already big programs and ad campaigns that tell people to do just that. That's where I think Greta has been at or was at, and that's why I think she jumped ship to this new trendy activism, because it's ahistorical and does not necessitate facts or solutions. It necessitates following a certain narrative. If you're someone who has only a high school education, well that's more likely to be your speed than a movement full of scientists of varying degrees and years of experience telling you that your solutions aren't what you think they are. If there is any maliciousness then I would say it's a byproduct and more of a maliciousness through ignorance than anything else.

I’ve seen a few of the antisemitic blogs make statements like “Greta was Times person of the year a few years ago, but since she linked climate change to colonialism they dropped her” or some variation thereupon.

And here’s the thing.

That’s not the reason.

Everyone dropped Greta because she offered nothing to the climate change problem.

She was a novelty as she was a child who was so singularly focused on climate change that it distressed her to the point of going mute. It distressed her so much that she dropped out of school. It distressed her so much that when she stopped being mute she started yelling at adults and it became her sole thing.

And that got her attention.

Here was a child who gave up being a child in order to bring attention to climate change.

Except we’d already had people who have been doing that for years. Again, it was just that she was a novelty because of how young she was.

Her “solutions” were also nothing new or novel.

Reduce your personal carbon footprint, switch to a vegetarian/vegan/vegetable heavy diet, contact your local politicians, etc…

These are all things that climate activists have said for years, and many of them are not actually solutions.

The whole claim that the individual civilian reducing their carbon footprint en masse will help reduce emissions was debunked during the pandemic when everyone’s footprint went down due to us all being stuck at home and it did almost nothing.

That’s when we all realized that the main emitters were massive corporations, businesses, and the energy sector and that the whole “reduce your footprint” narrative was coming from them in order to avoid responsibility. And the activists had been eating that up for years and spreading it around like gospel. They had been duped.

The whole thing about switching to a plant based diet makes no sense when animal agriculture is maybe 50% in total of the entire agricultural sector which is between 10-20% of global emissions. This one is particularly maddening because a lot of these activists like to blame Animal Agriculture as the number one emitter and/or the worst thing ever. Except it’s a percentage of one of the smallest sectors and literally does not have, and cannot have, as big an impact as the energy sector. Furthermore, all the alternatives to products that are made from the animal sector are much worse for the environment (e.g. plant based leathers need to be paired with petroleum/plastic based products and are not sustainable). These are the same people who scream that, typically, scream that GMOs and conventional Ag is bad while organic is the greatest thing ever, all the while they ignore the limited yields and increased inputs of organic.

Essentially they’re asking you to believe that a percentage of one of the smallest sectors has a bigger impact than it actually does and that you the consumer can fix it.

It makes no sense, and people have caught on to that.

And everyone has been contacting their politicians about this stuff for years.

The reality is that activists like Greta offer no actual solutions.

If she had actually gone to college and decided to pursue a career in climate science and relevant fields in order to bolster her work and develop solutions then maybe she’d be taken seriously. But she has a high school education and offers nothing more than an ignorant juvenile take on problems. Her solutions are not solutions, they’re just what ignorant activists shriek about because they don’t know what to actually do. They can’t actually understand the science, the mechanisms, and the methods because that takes years of education and experience.

If at most you have is a high school degree and you’re not furthering your education in any way then there is no way you’re going to actually provide an answer that the experts aren’t already working on.

The solutions to the issues are developed by experts with years of education and experience who are trying to address specific problems. Animal Agriculture scientists specifically are developing feeds to reduce methane emissions, Agricultural scientists specifically see certain inputs and outputs and want to improve yields while decreasing problematic outputs, ecological scientists are working on solutions to address the Ag/Wild environmental interchange. Scientists and experts work for years on a singular problem or set of problems in their particular field as it relates to climate change and develop a solution or way to reduce the impact of the issue.

It’s never an activist screaming that something needs to be done that fixes the issue, because it’s already being worked on. The activist is only coming from a place of passionate ignorance that they think is informed, but we’ve known about this stuff for years and it’s honestly wearing thin.

That’s why Greta is no longer the “darling of the Liberals” or whatever else you want to say as a tongue in-cheek barb.

She was a novelty that eventually lost its novelty and everyone saw her activism for what it really was: the same recycled fear mongering we’ve heard before.

That’s why she’s jumped ship from climate change to the anti-Israel crowd. The climate change community wants you to actually be educated on the topic and provide solutions, her new group does not. They want you to say the same canned lines, cliches, and catechisms. They don’t want a peaceful solution, but a violent one. They don’t want to provide a narrative based upon the vast nuances of the historical fact, but one that is steeped in antisemitic propaganda that trivializes and reduces everything to a black and white perspective.

That’s much easier than being educated and providing hard fixes that are incremental and occur over time. Much easier to scream about the omnicause and that there’s one “final solution”.

[saycheeeese]

"Focus on me." - the top (Part 1)

"I cannot believe I am stuck with babysitting a ten-year-old in the body of a (your age) year old woman," Sukuna groans crossly as he sets your shopping bags on the table. You silently note out of the corner of your eye that even in this state of "fury", he takes extra care not to smash any item of yours, gingerly putting them on the table. Not to forget he carried all six of your bags all the way home. Such a gentleman.

"At least I'm not a 1000 year old in the body of a 17 year old," you mutter, shrugging off your coat.

"Care to say that again?"

"No, thank you."

"I heard that, woman."

"Well, then, at least I don't have a 1000 year old in me," you shoot back at him, slipping off your shoes.

"You will, tonight. And then, I am going to punish you and teach you what it means to disobey me."

You gape at him, an unbidden heat creeping up your neck.

"Why did you ignore me when we were at the stall?"

You glance at him, trying to figure out his mood. He's leaning against the wall, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles, pinning you with a glare. Though something about his expression doesn't seem ... serious.

"I was looking at the cats," you explain. A sparkle surfaces in your eye. "They were sooo cute, I wanted one."

His brows bunch together. "A ... cat?"

"Mhm," you nod fervently. "I want one."

"No."

"Please?" You sprint to him, clasping his hands and bringing them to your cheeks. Surprisingly, he doesn't pull back, although he scowls at you.

"No. I already have an animal to take care of at home."

Your shoulders sag. "Pretty please? Can I have a cat? I swear it's not gonna disturb you."

"I can't see why you love cats so much," he grunts, looking away.

"I promise it won't shit in your bed, nor sit in your bed," you flutter your lashes at him. He narrows his eyes.

"It better not, because I only want one kitty in my bed. The others will be personally strangled by me," he states.

You sigh. "You worded that decently."

"You want me to use the other word?"

"Gosh ... Okay, buy me a cat, and I will listen to everything you say."

"As if," he rolls his eyes. "Even if I tell you to leave the house and not talk to me?"

"That depends," you raise your brows.

"Then it's a no," he frees his hands and stuffs them in his pocket and casually strolls into the bedroom. You bite your lip in exasperation.

. ★·.·´¯`·.·★ .

Blinding sunlight wrenches your eyes open late in the morning. You feel something soft tread on your face, making you sneeze. You bolt up in the bed, a gasp catching in your throat...

Three kittens squirm around you, one black, one white, and the other a calico. They mewl at you with closed eyes, tiny legs trembling. They trip over the sheets and tumble into your lap, crawling over each other. A sticky note is attached to the back of the black one:

"I expect a reward. For the record, I am naming these gremlins."

[~ PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG WITHOUT CREDITING ! THANK YOU ~]

{★ comments and likes would be appreciated ★}

[missiliavmori]

Where the Night Softens

You woke with a jolt, air catching painfully in your throat as your heart pounded like it was trying to escape your chest. The dream had felt too real—fingers you couldn’t see pulling you down, voices echoing with lies, the weight of panic pressing you into the mattress.

And then—

“Tesoro…”

The voice, low and drowsy but instantly alert, cut through the fog like a thread of gold in the dark.

You felt the bed shift as Terzo moved closer, rising onto one elbow. The rustle of his sheets was familiar, grounding.

“Hey, hey... come here.” He slid his arms around you, pulling you into his chest without hesitation, like this was where you’d always belonged. You felt the warmth of his bare skin against yours, his hand smoothing slowly down your back. “Breathe, amore. You are not alone.”

You couldn’t speak. Not yet. Your breath was shallow, panic curling hot in your lungs. But he didn’t rush you. He just held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, then your temple, then your cheek—each one slower, more lingering than the last.

“You were dreaming, sì? Something cruel and dark,” he murmured. “But it cannot reach you here. Not with me. I would never allow it.”

His hands found your face, thumbs brushing away the dampness on your cheeks as he tilted your chin up gently. His eyes—dark, lined in smudged kohl—searched yours with infinite care.

“You are safe. I have you. Always.”

He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips—soft, slow, reverent. His mouth lingered against yours, not in passion, but in devotion, like he was trying to breathe his calm into your very soul.

When he pulled back just slightly, he smiled gently. “Let me hold you until the world quiets again, sì?”

You nodded, finally able to draw a fuller breath.

Terzo gathered you into his arms completely, shifting you so you were nearly on top of him, your ear pressed to his chest where his heartbeat thumped steady and slow. One hand moved up to cradle the back of your head while the other stroked lazy circles along your spine.

He whispered soft nothings in Italian—“Amore, dolcezza, luce della mia vita…”—words that didn’t need translation. You could feel the meaning in every kiss, every touch.

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” he said finally, his voice nearly a lullaby. “Just let go. Let me be your peace for tonight.”

And little by little, your breathing evened. The fear dissolved like mist in morning light.

Because wrapped in Terzo’s arms, kissed and whispered back into stillness, you were no longer drifting.

You were home.

ㅡ

Wrapped in Terzo’s arms, you slowly felt the remnants of the nightmare begin to loosen their grip.

He kept whispering to you, his voice a warm hush: “Sei la mia stella. My star. My sweet thing.”

His hand never stopped moving—stroking your back, brushing your hair, cupping your cheek between kisses that asked for nothing and gave everything.

Eventually, your eyes fluttered closed again—not out of exhaustion, but safety. His breath was steady against your forehead, his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek. He was a living lullaby, and you let yourself sink into him like waves returning to shore.

Just before sleep fully pulled you under, you heard him murmur into your hair, voice thick with devotion:

"You are never a burden. Never too much. I want to be the place you come to when it all gets heavy. Let me carry it with you."

The night passed with no more dreams. Just warmth. Just him.

ㅡ

You woke slowly, not with panic this time, but with the delicious weight of being wrapped in someone who truly loved you.

The morning light was soft, streaming through the curtains in pale gold ribbons. Terzo was still there, still holding you like he hadn’t moved all night. One leg was tangled with yours, his arm still around your waist, his other hand resting under your jaw, thumb absently stroking along your cheekbone even though he was half-asleep.

When you stirred, his eyes blinked open.

“Buongiorno, amore,” he said in a gravelly, morning-warm voice. His lips curved lazily into a smile. “You stayed with me.”

You nodded, a little sheepish.

He leaned in, kissed your nose, then your lips—barely a whisper of a kiss, just a touch of skin and affection. “How are you feeling, tesoro?”

“Better,” you breathed, honestly. “Because of you.”

He smiled wider at that, pleased but not prideful. He nudged his nose against yours affectionately. “Good. Then we stay here. All day, if you want. No one will bother us. The world can wait.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

“I’ll make breakfast later,” he added, threading his fingers through yours. “Something sweet. But right now…” His other hand traced slow circles against your bare shoulder. “We just exist. Here. Together.”

And for the first time in a long while, the morning didn’t feel so daunting.

Because Terzo had kissed the fear out of the night—and promised that no matter what darkness returned, he would always be right there beside you to chase it away again.

NOTE : I needed this so much. Terzo being a big fluff and comforting you. Heart eyes for him always ♡