#they want international sympathy?

[000marie198]

So Hamas’ strategy worked on you. They never thought they could defeat Israel militarily. They want international sympathy and they have been using propaganda to accomplish that.

Hamas *celebrates* its casualties. Think about that.

Buddy, I grew up on the news of what's been happening in Palestine. All of this isn't recent development for me to believe the 'hamas bad, Israel defending itself' propaganda . Especially since most of the things said to be done by Hamas or Palestine are always debunked with solid proof as something Israeli occupation has been doing or ends up doing. One of those solid proofs being their own words and TikToks. I don't give a flying fuck about militia groups of any place.

I care about the people. Millions of innocent civilians being put through countless atrocities by Israel and it has been happening for decades. Hamas here is also a scapegoat at the moment for Zionists to point at with no basis to distract from or try to justify the genocide

Do you condemn the killing of babies?

Do you condemn bloody gory massacres and no mercy raids?

Do you condemn forced famine? Holding back life supporting supplies?

Do you condemn the use of white phosphorus bombs?

Do you condemn armed soldiers attacking children?

Do you condemn terrorism and rape?

Or are you gonna come in my inbox next saying it's all fair game when it's on Palestinians? Then you'll just contradict yourself, like you all always do, with your own words.

As for the last line of your ask, allow me to remind you, to remind EVERYONE, about the videos Israelis made of cheering when bombs were blasted upon Gaza in October, about the TikToks Israelis made of mocking those dying and they included their children in the mocking, videos of an Israeli man opening and closing his taps and turning off and on his lights with a cheery smiles when Israel first cut off the water and electricity in Gaza, TikToks of IOF soldiers hanging private clothing of Palestinian women as trophies on their tanks, so many videos IOF made of stealing toys and private property and laughing, all the witness accounts of IOF soldiers forcing family members to watch each other get shot like it's a game.

Who's the one celebrating?

I didn't fall for any strategy, I've been in the know before any of this, particularly the event that is consistently being used by Zionists to use as a scapegoat, even started. Find someone else to ragebait, it's not gonna work here.

#they want international sympathy? #aee you hearing yourself? #millions of people are suffering. and you'll just go ahead and make it abt a miltia wanting international sympathy? #how dumb can you get #how cruel can you get. trying to swipe everything the Palestinians are suffering under the rug by saying this #well. whatever. if you can't even see something this big is wrong then you have no hope. you're just blind #and your humanity is dead #israel #palestine #gaza #free gaza #free palestine #end occupation #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #there's world's biggest skinbank in Israel with flesh stolen from martyred Palestinian civilians for crying out loud #you're not gonna convince me Izrahell is defending itself no matter what you say #all your claims are alleged and without proof anyway #ask answered #anon ask

[transmascutena]

thinking about how akio sees his younger self in utena and wondering if there's any fondness there. doesn't change the horror of what he does to her obviously but i do wonder

#akio and utena #m #long ramble in the tags sorry: #the thing about akio is that he's so evil bit he's also so human #he has feelings. i just don't know what they are (if anything) toward his victims #he loves anthy at the very least i'm sure of that. even if he hates her too. just like she loves and hates him. the lines are blurry. #and i just. i have to wonder whether any of that extends to utena at all. we know anthy at times feels similarly about utena and dios #(and akio by extension.) the simultanious love and resentment. so it's not too unlikely i think. #like. even though he never had anything but bad intentions in getting close to her #i'm not sure it's possible to do everything he did and feel nothing #not that he has any meaningful amount of guilt or remorse for it. i don't think that. #and i obviously don't think he “loved” her in any of the ways she might have thought he did #but did he not care at all? did he not feel any kind of fondness or sympathy or just. idk. pity? for her? #whatever the case it wasn't enough to reconsider having her killed so you know. how much does that actually matter anyway #idk. i think about it a lot. how abusers are rarely entirely indifferent toward their victims #the role he's playing in her life is so fucked up but it IS a role he's playing and i wonder how much he you know... internalizes it? #how much does he believe the illusion of family that he invites her into? because akio DOES often buy into his own illusions. #(similarly i think it's possible that akio is fond of touga too. their mentor-protégé relationship is horrible and abusive #but that doesn't make it less real. you know? maybe real is the wrong word.) #when he talks in episode 25 about wanting utena and anthy closer that's obviously so he can continue to groom her #but is there something genuine there too? i don't know. #again. it obviously does not make anything he does better or even different. but it is interesting to think about to me. #on the other side of that coin does seeing his own past youth and naivete and desire to do good that he (maybe) once had #reflected back at him through her mean anything? #is there resentment there? that she is what he couldn't be? or more likely he just thinks that idealism is stupid. #either way it's something he wants to take from her. anyway ramble over. #i talk a lot about utena's feelings toward akio (familial vs romantic love and the way the two are intertwined in fucked up ways) #but not much the other way around. probably because utena is actually a sympathetic character whose feelings the show very clearly #wants you to analyze and think about. #which is... less true for akio i think. though he's still a complex character with complex motives. he's just harder to get a grasp on.

[herequeerexitentialfear]

i love it when shit happens in my life that dredges up old wounds and coincidentally im re-experiencing the media i intrinsically link it to cause then i get to remember exactly why i love it and find it so meaningful all over again. there's a fucking reason ill always say Berserk [& RGU] both came into my life at a perfect fucking time and holy shit they fucking resonated with me so hard and as much as life can suck ass and lovvves kicking me in the balls when ive just recovered from last time i a least get to remember how & why i love something so much.

#thebirdspeaks #ive been trying to make a coherent post about Berserk and specifically the duality of Casca and Guts as victims post eclipse #because there are issues but also it resonates so well with me regardless #i cant word it pretty but i think its something about Casca and Guts both being victims and responding in opposite ways #and because they are so tightly linked you can almost see them as one victim experiencing the duality of victimhood #as an internal struggle made into two separate people #i flip flop between who i relate to more in relation to my own trauma #and there is plenty to criticize with the writing choices around Casca dont get me wrong #but as much as people criticize her mind breaking and turning into a shell of herself that needs constant help as something entirely negati #i sure as fuck was not given that space and care to be broken #its very nuanced but i think so few people write victims sympathetically that as much as turning into a mess can appear overdone #being cared for and given space and help and being allowed to be a burden is a powerful thing #and i find the expectation to be strong in the face of what you went though is much more common and damaging to me #anyway as many issues as i have i think Casca being allowed to be a victim as much a she was is why i love Berserk so much and while i thin #it could be better if some things were changed #but im not sure if it would have hit as hard and meant as much to me when i was wobbling between mindless rage and want for revenge #and just being broken and tired and weak and scared #reading Guts protect Casca like he did #showed me that that part of me could protect and is better off channeling the mindless rage into protecting whats important to me and what #needs it #letting me demand protection and love and sympathy for my weakest self in my darkest hours #i know im far from objective & my opinions are not universal #but the fact Casca is allowed to be a victim so fully and not just a hashtag girlboss who struggles her way out #well i wouldn't call Guts a girlboss but actually i think that's why it worked. #because between the two they cover the two ends of the common depictions of victimhood: forced to stay strong and allowed to be weak #anyway im about to hit tag limit i love you f you read this far and if you think this is horseshit then please don't say #if you think im right and sexy about it pile the love on meee<3

[90sbee]

being a poc doesn't give you a pass to laugh at countries in the global south losing their democracy btw. no country deserves a dictatorship bc of 'karma'. please just enjoy your privileges of living in a 1st world country and leave us alone.

#trying to gain sympathy and support from other minorities in the world is going great! you see! they really care about south america :) #absolutely no energy to argue with people like them. i'm just sorry for them. imagine having that kind of soul. #anyway this is why we don't ask for help from the 'international community'. it's either laughing or usamerican intervention #and i don't want either #arg vibes #boludeces y reclamos mios(?

[sh5]

transmascs are the weakest link in this community, sorry

#call it internalized transphobia if you want but we are not doing well by our transfem sisters #transmascs see transmisogyny and for some reason WANT to be victims of it too. its not about you all the time. #transmeds can complain about star genders and nya pronouns all day long but. who's REALLY hurting the community. the person with an odd #gender presentation or the sensitive trans man who cannot show sympathy for his transfem sisters? #transmascs are injecting performance enhancing drugs at the oppression Olympics and they still lose every time #lee speaks #we're both too sensitive and not sensitive enough. our hackles raise for ourselves and not for the other people in our community #even when it was never directed at us in the first place #my shit was on kiwifarms but no one cared because I wasn't a trans woman. that's what im talking about. YES we get bullied but we don't get #doxxed for christ's sake

[distressedgold]

Belos is trying so hard not to say anything in front of the people who are traumatized by accidentally killing someone, or those upset by the death, but as soon as he and Hunter are by themselves and out of earshot-

“-That motherfucking abusive douche bag piece of horse shit deserved worse.”

“Dad!”

#dash commentary #Show me a hero; I'll write you a tragedy (Emperor Belos) #Watching waiting my prey is praying; There's no escaping (Hunter the Golden Guard) #Belos internally: FUCK YEAH HOWELL! YOU DID SUCH A GOOD JOB! Don't feel bad he doesn't deserve that yet. He needs to do more work on himself #Belos internally: -before he deserves any sympathy. #LOOK my Belos doesn't like Alex and even though he forces himself to have empathy the knowledge of what he put his brother Belos through pop #s up sometimes and Belos wants to just CRUSH Alex's skull with his bare hands when that happens; he DOESN'T but the deserve is there sometim

[alketaire]

finally watching the inaccuracy dessert (I Fact-Checked The Worst Video Essayist on YouTube by Todd in the Shadows) to hbomb's plagiarism meat and jheesus fhucking chhrist it's beyond fucking belief. like i'm c-tier at best on the list of "people who go out of their way to engage with queer media" and this fucker, positioning himself as a serious queer theory media analyst, blithered lies and "gay nazis" conspiracy theories so absolutely ridiculous that i swore out loud.

"i want to hold your hand was controversial for PDA reasons" absolutely the fuck not, talk to 1 boomer???

"straight women hate acknowledging gay sex is real" absolutely the fuck not, talk to 1 straight woman??????

"gaiman's renown as a writer started with gomens" oh now you've declared fucking war on every gen x nerd and goth and gay?????????

thank you to my family for teaching me to be media literate enough that this shit infuriates me

#i am going to ragebuy a sandman compendium istfg. #editing in the tags as i go now bc my ex-academic ass is SO MAD #the 'nazi body standards' shit. NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CLOSEST CASE YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT COCO CHANEL (who is in hell i hope) WHICH MEANS NO! #'svelte attractive germans' FUCKING- THEY WERE JUST AS IF NOT MORE STARVED THAN EVERYBODY ELSE YOU AHISTORICAL SNOTFUCK #'only the boring gays lived' okay actually a horrible human being. all sympathy withdrawn. fuck you and whoever made you this way. #fran leibowitz thinks you're a complete shmuck for extrapolating her opera snark to all queers. #don't forget the DEAFENING sinophobia via whole cloth fabricated figures #'pirates funded public good' jesse what the fuck are you talking about.jpg #'an era where the english were tossing around homophobic slurs but not at pirates' what. in the fuck. are you fucking talking about. jesse. #'janelle monae came out bc nobody believed pynk had anything to do with vaginas' ARE YOU DELIBERATELY OBTUSE. #'no hating but still' oh i'm fucking hating you sack of lies #'peasants were paranoid about vampires' even if you're talking about witches YOU'RE STILL MASSIVELY HYPERBOLIZING #'from and anthropolo-' eat my anthropological shit you're presenting literary/political analysis as physical science now??? #oh my GOD the reductive fucking sweeping generalizations of international theatre and esp kabuki i want to claw my eyes out #'hepburn flatly refused to believe gay people existed' WHY WOULD YOU LIE ABOUT THIS SO BLATANTLY DO YOU KNOW WHO SHE *WAS*??? #WHY DOES HE KEEP CITING SHITTY HEADCANONS FOR JK FUCKING ROWLING

[headspace-hotel]

Symbiosis isn't just mutualism. Parasitism is symbiosis. It's uncomfortable to confront parasitic relationships if you want to see your human ideas of good and bad reflected in Nature.

But gazing into something huge and utterly Other, being uncomfortable means you're engaging your mind with it. "Uncomfortable" is actually a whole spectrum of emotions that become a vivid and satisfying rainbow.

There was a post a while back with some artwork of Dendrogaster, a crustacean that parasitizes starfish, and its body is like this branching fractal of fleshy lobes made to fit inside the body of the starfish mirroring its structure, and I was absolutely horrified to look at this, and this horror was the same emotion as a strangely visceral wave of sympathy for this parasite.

Creative works about parasites often invoke the horror of bodily invasion, which is visceral and strong for me, but this artwork inverted that horror, instead showing the horror of being made so perfectly for fitting within someone else that you lose everything you are and become unrecognizable.

I also think of the post about the cowbird chick. It's awful that the bird pushes its siblings out of the nest as it grows, and the mama feeds it because she instinctively must feed her chick, but the cowbird is just a baby. Was it wrong for him to hatch, to be alive, to be hungry, to be a baby and to need love?

Symbiosis is intensely beautiful, and sometimes it's beautiful because it's grotesque and terrible. Of course, the symbiosis between two organisms isn't an allegory for a relationship, it just is a relationship, but looking at the way organisms become entwined feels like you're seeing things that, if words described them, would also be human experiences.

Being invaded by a parasite is a horror of powerlessness and loss of autonomy, but being a parasite is also defined by powerlessness. In many cases, the parasite will die without the host, but the host can live without the parasite. I wonder why it is expected to sympathize with one and not the other.

Your immune system fights against internal parasites like a tapeworm...Imagine being a tapeworm. The body of your host is your universe. Do you find your world to be kind? Benevolent? Does your god love you?

Sometimes people call disabled people "parasites." When I think about my future sometimes I'm uncertain and afraid.

But when a rare non-photosynthetic orchid blooms in the forest, this is not the forest's weakness and failure, but its crowning glory.

[parkerslatte]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: memory loss.

Summary: The last time Azriel had seen his mate was nearly four centuries ago. The bond went silent and for those many years, Azriel believed his mate was dead. As he sits with Elain in her garden, the bond suddenly comes alive once again.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The day Azriel lost his mate, he was in agony. Not because of the pain, no. It was because of the lack of knowledge if she was alive or not. The bond fell quiet and Azriel could hardly grasp onto it. It was as if he were trying to catch smoke. There was nothing to touch. For years he searched for her, he never wanted to give up. He knew that every moment he waited, she could be in danger. 

Even long after she disappeared, Azriel still searched. However, as the centuries ticked by, Azriel began to lose hope. He was sure he had searched every possible location. There was no trace of Y/N. 

Azriel sat with Elain in her garden. He had noticed a positive change in the middle Archeron sister for the past few months. When Rhys tasked him to watch over Elain and help her adjust, he originally hated the idea. But he knew the reason why Rhys had set him the task. It was coming up to the 400th anniversary since Y/N had disappeared. 

As Azriel looked down at the ring in his hands, he could feel his heart plummet. Even if being around Elain had helped distract himself as she explained all of the flowers to him and their various meanings, the closer it got to the anniversary of Y/N’s disappearance, Azriel felt himself slip away from everyone and everything. 

The ring was still beautiful even after all this time. Azriel made sure it was. Despite vowing to never take off her wedding ring, Y/N always took it off before bed, deeming that it was uncomfortable when she rested her head upon her hand to sleep. But the first thing she did every morning was slip the ring back upon her finger. The night she was taken it had been no different except one thing, Azriel had not been there. His job had kept him away for an extra day, and for the first time since they were mated and married, Azriel had not fallen asleep next to Y/N. He had regretted that for four hundred years. The only reminder of her was the ring he found on her bedside cabinet that morning. 

“Azriel!” The sound of Elain’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry?” He lifted his gaze from the ring and met Elain’s. 

“I asked you what that was,” Elain said, gesturing down to the ring in his hand. 

Azriel stilled. He never liked speaking about it with anyone but Rhys or Cassian. But seeing how Elain’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern, he could tell that a saddened expression had slipped onto his face. 

Azriel sighed. “It was my mate’s wedding ring.”

“Mate?” Elain said, her expression falling slightly. 

Azriel cringed internally. He knew about Elain’s small crush on him. She did not hide it well. Though he did not return her feelings, he still enjoyed her company. With her, she understood when he just wished to sit in silence and when he didn’t want to talk, she continued the conversation on her own. 

Perhaps there was a time where he could have retired her feelings, Elain was rather beautiful, but she would never compare to Y/N. Azriel had never had another relationship after Y/N disappeared. He only ever wanted Y/N and he would only ever want her. 

“Yes,” Azriel said, swallowing hard. “She- she disappeared four-hundred years ago. I was never able to find her.”

The small hurt expression on Elain’s face changed to one of sympathy. “Azriel, I am so sorry.”

Azriel nodded and looked back at the ring. “I have looked everywhere and there is no trace of her. I have always felt…empty since she disappeared. She was part of my soul that I have never gotten back.”

Elain dropped the bulbs she was holding back into her basket. “How do you know she is not out there? You couldn’t have searched everywhere on the planet?”

“I have searched everywhere where it was possible to take her,” Azriel answered. “I have found absolutely nothing.”

“Then believe that she is still out there,” Elain said.

“Elain, it has been nearly four-hundred years,” Azriel said. “I gave up hope of her still being alive a long time ago.”

“Do you still love her?” Elain asked. 

“More than anything,” Azriel said instantly. “I haven’t been with anyone after she disappeared. I tried, about two-hundred years ago but I couldn’t do it. It felt so wrong. No one will ever compare to her.”

“Then you shouldn’t give up hope,” Elain said. “You don’t give up hope on those you love.”

Azriel did not reply. He simply looked back down at the ring once more. It was centuries old yet it still looked brand new. Azriel made sure that the silver band never tarnished. Made sure that the gem never stopped sparkling. It looked the same as the day he had slipped it onto her finger. Elain, sensing Azriel wished to no longer talk about the topic, returned back to her garden. 

Ever since Y/N had disappeared, Azriel had always felt like he had lost part of his soul, and he supposed he had. Y/N was everything to him. She was who he lived for. She was the one and only love he ever needed, ever wanted. The night the bond snapped for them was one Azriel would never forget. Even if he tried, he would never be able to forget it. The initial shock then the pure feeling of the love she sent him. For the first time in his life, Azriel knew what it was like to be loved so deeply and unconditionally. It did not matter whether he deserved it or not. When he was with Y/N, none of that mattered. All that mattered was him and her and the fact that they were together. 

As Azriel tucked the ring back into his breast pocket, a large surge of emotion was brought to life within him. He clutched at his chest. Azriel cried out.

“Azriel?” Elain questioned, shooting to her feet. “Are you okay?”

Her voice was muffled as Azriel continued to claw at his chest. Something was threatening to burst through. 

“Something is different,” he forced out. 

“Do I need to get anyone?” Elain asked. 

“Rhys,” Azriel said. “I need Rhys.”

Elain nodded and ran out of the garden and into the house in search of his brother.

Azriel tried to stand but fell to his knees immediately. He could barely breathe. The pressure in his chest was gradually increasing and he could not place the feeling anywhere. 

“I have Rhys,” Elain said, rushing back into the garden, Rhys following behind her. 

“Az, what’s wrong?” Rhys asked, kneeling down next to him. 

“I don’t know,” Azriel said, breathing heavily. “There is a pressure in my chest. I don’t know what it is.”

“What were you doing before it started?” Rhys asked.

“Telling–” Azriel cut himself off as he yelled out. The pressure was becoming worse and Azriel was sure that if he tried to repress it anymore, it would surely kill him. “Telling Elain about Y/N.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Elain asked quietly, standing a small distance away.

“Az, you need to relax,” Rhys said, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I can’t,” Azriel said through gritted teeth. 

“The pressure will kill you if you don’t relax,” Rhys said sternly. “So, please, relax.”

Azriel met Rhy’s eyes and stopped clawing at his chest. The pain in his chest gradually got worse and worse. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. 

“Rhys,” Azriel whispered, his voice full of pain. “I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” Rhys said. “Just relax, Az.”

Azriel closed his eyes and relaxed his body, letting the pain overtake his body until he cried out once again. However as soon as he cried out, the pain stopped and a new feeling overtook his body. It was overwhelming and Azriel backed away from Rhys’s touch. 

“Azriel,” Rhys said. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t–”

Azriel cut himself off as a familiar feeling rose within him. This time he didn’t claw at his chest, he gently placed his hand upon it. The emotions he was feeling weren’t his. They were someone else’s. Azriel hadn’t felt this way in a long time. He had forgotten what it felt like. But it felt right. 

“The mating bond,” Azriel said. “I feel the mating bond.”

Even Rhys looked shocked as he looked at Azriel. “Are you sure?”

Azriel nodded. “I can feel it. I can feel her, Rhys.”

Tears sprung to Azriel’s eyes. He tugged on that bond that had lain dormant for four hundred years. It was weak though he felt her tug back. Azriel could have sobbed at that feeling alone. 

“Take me back to my home, Rhys,” Azriel said. 

The home Azriel shared with Y/N. He hadn’t entered it in a long time. He could never bring himself to. Every single time he tried, he couldn’t open the door. That house was the home he made with Y/N and Azriel did not want to be there if she wasn’t. 

“Are you sure?” Rhys asked.

“I’m sure,” Azriel said. “She is there, Rhys. I can feel it.”

Rhys nodded and winnowed them to the outside of Azriel’s home on the outskirts of Velaris. As soon as they arrived, Azriel could already smell the familiar scent of his mate. He pushed away from Rhys and opened the front door. 

And there she was.

Y/N stood in the middle of the room looking around with her hands on her hips. “You could have dusted, Az.”

Azriel simply couldn’t believe it. “Y/N? Are you really here?”

Y/N smiled softly and Azriel nearly collapsed right there. That smile was always in his dreams but seeing it again in person…

Azriel rushed over to her and scooped her in his arms as they both sank to the floor. Azriel couldn’t stop the sobs that came from him and neither could Y/N. The bond between them hummed happily. Four hundred years of being apart and now finally being reunited. It was something Azriel had given up on a long time ago. 

“How are you here?” Azriel mumbled, his sobs subsided but his tears didn’t. “I thought you were dead.”

Y/N pulled away from the hug and cupped Azriel’s cheeks and wiped away the tears. “You are exactly as I remember. It has been so long since I remembered what you looked like.”

“What do you mean?” Azriel asked. 

Y/N sighed and held onto Azriel tighter, as if she were afraid she was going to be taken once more. “The night I was taken, I was drugged, they wanted me for my power of healing and I refused to give in. They were bad men and I was not going to help them no matter how hard they tried to convince me. They drugged my food to make me compliant but the only thing I could think about was you and our bond. Once they realised who I was and who I was mated to, they gave me another drug. This time it was one to dampen the power of the mating bond. It made me stop feeling you.”

“I remember that night,” Azriel said. “I thought you blocked it off.”

Y/N shook her head. “Once the mating bond was dampened, they drugged me with something else. Over time I began to forget things, important things. My name, where I came from, my family, my friends…you.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body flush against his. The sound of her heart beating was enough to bring a new surge of tears to his eyes. He never thought he would hear it again.

“They took me to a place on the continent, an entire city deep below ground with its own artificial sun and moon, whole fields and towns. Once I did not remember anything, they gave me a new identity and a whole new life.” 

“You didn’t remember me?” Azriel asked.

“I didn’t,” Y/N said sadly, threading her fingers in his hair. “But I always felt that there was a part of me missing. Even though the mating bond was repressed, I always felt that something was not quite right.”

Azriel’s heart fell. This whole time he had been in agony that his mate had been missing, while she did not remember him at all.  “How did you escape?” he asked. 

“If you believe me or not, there are good people in that community, incredible people,” Y/N said. “They helped me flush the drugs from my system and helped me remember who I once was.”

“The bond?” Azriel asked. “Did they help with that?”

Y/N shook her head. “Once the drugs were from my system and I was finally above ground, I felt you. I winnowed back here instantly. Consider me surprised when this house looks exactly the same as when I left four-hundred years ago.”

“I haven’t been able to come back here since you were taken,” Azriel whispered, his voice soft and vulnerable. 

Y/N caressed his face and wiped his tears away. “Oh, my darling. I am here now. Only if you still want me, of course.”

Azriel frowned. “Why wouldn’t I want you?”

“Az, my love, it has been four-hundred years. I would understand if you moved on in those years,” Y/N said. 

Azriel shook his head. “There has been no one else. I tried almost two centuries ago but I couldn’t do it. All I wanted was you.” When Azriel looked at her face again, he nearly burst into tears once more. It had been so long since he had looked into those loving eyes. The type of love he once thought he never deserved. “If you had found anyone, I would understand. You didn’t remember me.” Just that statement alone made Azriel hurt all over again. 

Y/N sighed a pained noise. “I won’t lie to you and say that there was no one, Azriel. There were a couple of people I have been with over the past four centuries.”

A new surge of tears streamed down Azriel’s cheeks as he gripped onto Y/N tighter. 

“But,” she continued, “there has been no one for many years and no one ever stuck around long. I could never fully commit. It was as if my body knew that it was wrong. I did like a few people but I never loved them. I could never love anyone more than I love you.”

“I never want you to go anywhere again,” Azriel whispered into her hair. “I missed you so much.”

Azriel’s fingers tangled in her hair as he rested his forehead against hers. Her soft breath fanned his face and Azriel swore he could nearly faint. Her scent, her touch, her breath. They were all things Azriel never thought he would ever witness again. 

“I am never going anywhere again,” Y/N mumbled. “I will remain beside you forever, my love.”

Azriel reluctantly unwrapped one hand from around Y/N and reached into his pocket and pulled out her ring. Y/N gasped once she saw it. 

“You kept it?” She asked.

“Of course I kept it,” Azriel said. “I always have it on me. It was the only thing I had that reminded me of you.”

Y/N wiped her tears away as Azriel took her hand gently in hers and slid the ring onto her finger. “Perfect,” he whispered.

Y/N looked him in the eyes. The love she held within them was something Azriel never forgot. He would see them in his dreams and nightmares. It was something he never thought he would see in person again. 

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel asked, almost afraid of the answer. 

Y/N smiled. “Az, I am your mate and your wife. There might have been a four century gap in our relationship but those two facts do not change. I love you. Of course you can kiss me. Kiss me until you can’t anymore.”

The shadowsinger smiled. “Then I’m afraid we will be here a while.”

Azriel finally kissed his mate and wife for the first time in four hundred years. 

#azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[ziracona]

They never explained the psychic connection in S1 so I’m calling Xavier and Tyler are secretly half brothers or blood brothers of some magic pact kind like I may not have a shred of evidence beyond they’re brunette and the connection wasn’t explained but I know Al and Miles from years of dedicated Smallville viewing and I know they can’t resist a secret family connection.

#wednesday spoilers #Wednesday #do I want this? no. not even a litttle. but will it happen? idk probably #Oh me? I just have an edge when it comes to this. what’s the edge? oh haha glad you asked #*​walks up to the table and slams down my dedicated years of smallville viewing* #nice to see they haven’t changed #I mean that sincerely. and I mean: they have. but like. I appreciate when I can tell a writer is trying to do a progressive job and cares & #years later I see their work again and they’re still trying and still missing some marks but hitting more and trying so sincerely #I liked that. season 1 had a really sensitive and well done episode about eating disorders & another where the villain was a bastard cop who #tried to convince the MC internal affairs were bad and they were like ‘nah fuck this guy’ #Mental breakdown man is given sympathy and help. they gave us the gayest Lex Luthor on the planet. #Whitney had a character. capitalism was the bad guy a lot. #it wasn’t all hits but you can tell when a bitch is really trying and I appreciate it a lot #anyways it’s nice to see them again #I got to talk to them once over Skype at a library event holy shit I totally forgot about that. I met them once though wtf how did I not #remember this until just now???

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

#palestine #israel hamas war #israel hamas conflict #hamas #on war #essay writing #personal essay #rant post #stop terrorism #israel #writing #palestinian lives matter #jewish lives matter #jewish and proud #jewish identity #jewish muslim solidarity #on grief #on religion #antisemitism #anti zionisim #purim 2024 #chag purim sameach #judaism #israeli palestinian conflict #am yisrael chai #kvetching #jumblr #mims on middle east #המצב

[ktgoodmorning]

It always gets ugly

Alexia Putellas x reader

Part 2 to Your opinion of me won’t change right?

Find part 1 here

Masterlist

Very much didn’t expect to get this done so soon but wanted to get it out before I go back to school on Monday. Written on my phone during a road trip so might be a little rough. Hope you like the ending though, I finally managed to keep something a more reasonable length.

Very much appreciate any feedback and requests but no promises they get done.

You couldn’t possibly continue hiding your home life from your girlfriend. Here she was, holding your hands, basically begging you to open up to her. “Baby talk to me. Please,” you looked into Alexia’s eyes as she pleaded with you. You took a deep breath, internally preparing yourself for the conversation ahead of you.

“Ale, my family’s not like yours. Not at all,” her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but remained silent. “My family rarely gets along and when we do it doesn’t last. We don’t lean on each other when things get rough, we tear each other apart, and we judge each other, and yell, and it’s not pretty, Alexia.”

The Catalan woman nodded slowly, trying her best to understand your words. A look of confusion was still plastered across her face, “but…. that was your mother,” she spoke slowly, trying her best to understand. “Why were you so…” your girlfriend paused, searching for the word she wanted, “upset?”

You sighed as tears welled up in your eyes. To you, her questioning was coming across as judgement. Of course she would. Alexia would never treat her mom the way she just saw you on the phone. You wanted to explain yourself away but you doubted she’d be able to understand. “I just don’t have the patience for it anymore,” your voice was almost a whisper as if it’d quiet the guilt you felt. “They’ve treated me so badly for my entire life, I don’t have the energy to just sit and take it anymore. They want to manipulate me, and control my entire life and when I don’t let them they get really mean. I get to a point where I have to defend myself, even if it gets ugly.” You paused for a minute, thinking. “It always gets ugly,” you voice cracked as you decided you needed to stop talking before you started to break down again.

“What did they say on the phone?” Your girlfriends usual straight face was still full of confusion. Trying not to push you too hard but still trying to understand.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you could’ve kept her in the dark about your parents’ disapproval of your relationship. “Well I told them how I’m staying here,” you took a deep breath. “They didn’t think that was a good idea. They said I was prioritizing you over them.” You trailed off, hoping their words wouldn’t cut into your girlfriend as deeply as they had you.

You finally looked up, trying to read Alexia’s reaction. You felt how she squeezed your hand in reassurance. Her face didn’t look angry. It looked… neutral? Calm. Maybe sad? “Amor, why didn’t you ever tell me? I never knew it was that bad,” her voice was calm, always comforting you as she reached up to push a piece of your hair behind your ear. Her hand then settled on the side of your face, stroking your cheek with her thumb when you leaned into it. It was then that you realized she wasn’t mad at you. Her heart broke knowing how hurt you had been by the people who were supposed to love you most.

Because of your girlfriend’s constant comfort, you were more willing to talk, “Ale how could I? Your family is perfect. You love each other and support each other. How could I show you how mine really is?” You watched her face as the realization of your words sunk in. It was now that she understood why you were always more than willing to go see her mom or sister with her but hesitant to call your own. “I didn’t ever want you to see the way mine treats each other when yours would never imagine acting that way.” The blonde looked at you with her eyes full of sympathy, finally understanding much more about you.

Her hand continued along your face as she responded, “baby, you didn’t need to hide that from me, it’s not your fault that they-“

“Ale, it’s not just that,” you cut her off, feeling the need to explain yourself further. You sighed heavily as she waited for you to continue. “I also wanted to protect you from them. They’re not all that supportive of our relationship, or anything I do in Spain, really. I didn’t want you to have to see that from them.”

Alexia pulled you into a hug against her side, “you don’t need to protect me. I can handle it. It doesn’t matter to me what they say about me, all that matters to me is you. If they’re hurting you, I want to be there to help you. I want to support you in the ways they don’t.” The captain spoke with so much conviction, it was clear how serious she was about her words.

You held onto her, reciprocating the hug, finally starting to believe her. “I think sometimes that’s why I like spending time with your family so much- it feels like I finally get to experience a normal family. Mine’s just… a lot.” You trailed off slightly as she rubbed your back, still holding you.

“Amor, my family will always welcome you. Mami loves you probably more than she does Alba,” she laughed as she pulled you away so she could see your face. You cracked a small smile at your girlfriend’s rare attempt at a joke. “I want to know you. All of you. Even the parts you don’t like.”

“Well I don’t even know where to start, Ale. We’re kinda a mess,” you chucked lightly, trying to lighten up the situation further now that you had calmed down.

“You don't have to tell me everything all at once, all right now. I just want you to be open with me about it all, okay? Alexia looked at you with love in her eyes. Her face was pleading with you, willing you to say yes.

You responded with a nod, pulling her into you again. “Gracias, Ale. Te amo. Te amo mucho. No sabes cuanto te aprecio.” You almost had to hold back tears once again, but this time tears of happiness. Happiness from the life you had built in Barcelona, with Alexia by your side. She was all you needed. You knew that with her, you’d be able to face anyone, even your own family.

Your girlfriend squeezed you tighter than either of you knew she was capable of. She was in awe of you, especially after the way you’d just responded in Spanish, knowing how much you’d been practicing. She was in awe of you and your strength to handle the people who had hurt you the most in your life. In awe of how you had faced it alone most of your life and in awe of how you now were willing to let her in.

Neither of you could speak as you were so lost in thoughts of admiration for each other and the bond you held together. All you could do was silently remain securely in each other’s arms, unable to put your love for each other into words

Masterlist

#barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #fcb femini #woso one shot #woso #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #woso fanfics #woso soccer #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingalexia

[hysteria-things]

Hey girl so I’ve been watching the new Sam and Colby video and there’s A LOT of Matt edits of him being blindfolded so I wanted to ask only if your comfortable to write a smut story abt Matt being blindfolded and you do the rest ONLY IF YOUR COMFORTABLE NO PRESSURE

BLINDFOLD

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt’s usually the dom when it comes to sex, but what’ll happen if the tables are turned?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, palming, blindfold, faux-sympathy, vibrator, oral (male receiving), p in v, overstimulation, unprotected sex (big no no!), cockwarming at the end

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 867

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i couldn’t think of a buildup so we’re just jumping in!

ALSO i promise more chris stuff is coming.

taking the red silk, you wrap the blindfold around your boyfriend’s head so it can cover his eyes. he’s grinning widely because he finally let you be in control. “what do you have in store, baby?” he says, smirking afterward. even though he can’t see you, he knows you’re enjoying this.

“you’ll see,” you reply, taking your nails and gently grazing them down his bare chest.

you’re straddling his lap, the only clothing on him is his underwear. you, however, still have your clothes on.

he’s starting to get hard, so you take your hand and start palming the bulge through his boxers. you hear his breath hitch, making you grin even wider.

he exhales out a long breath, his hands gripping the sheets below him.

you shimmy down his legs so your face is right in front of his crotch, still palming him when you leave kisses on his boner.

he moans softly, moistening his lips with his tongue. fuck he finds this so hot. “you’re already twitching, matthew. are you going to cum in your boxers? how cute.” you pout, his hips rutting upward.

“how do you like it? getting teased like this. doesn’t feel good, does it? poor matt, not so big and bad now. i’m going to be the one to make you moan my name tonight.” you squeeze his dick gently and he jolts. “am i right?”

he nods frantically. “y-yes. you—“ he’s cut off with a whine, his hot cum seeping through the fabric, leaving a wet stain dead center.

he takes a deep breath once the air hits his dick, that you let spring free from the boxer’s grasp. because of his orgasm, it’s wet all around his tip and base. you take your hand, moving it up and down on him. “f-fuck.” he whispers, mouth hanging open as you keep moving your hand.

you find a box under your bed — the box where your vibrator is. you take it out, placing it on his red and swollen tip.

his brows furrow. “what’s that— o-oh.” he’s cut off with a moan when the low vibration runs through his body. with your hand and the vibe, he’s internally going crazy.

you circle the tip with the bullet, looking at his face as it keeps contorting into different expressions of pleasure. you remove your hand, replacing it with your mouth.

sloppily wrapping your mouth around his shaft, you can taste the remains of his first orgasm. then, you start to lick his tip. “f-fuck!” he exclaims, grabbing onto your hair. not tight, but enough to keep you there. “o-oh my— god, y/n.”

he starts to squirm beneath you, thrusting slightly onto your tongue. you’re still kitty-licking him, smirking when you see pre-cum start to leak out.

removing your mouth, you turn the vibrator on high. he moans loudly, and you’re straddling his lap once again. you give an opened mouth kiss, matt moaning nonstop in your mouth. “do you like the way you taste?”

“mhm.” he mumbles, sweat trickling from his forehead and on his chest. “cumming! i-i’m cumming, baby.”

he pulls away to throw his head back, moaning into the air once his release shoots out of his dick.

you turn the vibrator off, giving him time to catch his breath once you get off of his lap. “w-where’d you go?” he pants.

“over here,” you say at the foot of the bed, undressing yourself slowly. he’s so far into submission, and you want to admire that while you can.

once you’re fully nude, you crawl on top of him and align yourself. you gasp the more you place yourself on him, both moaning once you’re full. you grind your hips slowly, leaning in to kiss his jaw. “my pretty boy.” you say lowly, matt grabbing your hips.

“p-please ride me,” he begs, whimpering once you start to bounce fast in his cock.

he knows it’s a lot for him, but it feels so good. his head is fuzzy, the only thought in there is the way you clamp down on him, your whines and moans filling his ears. “y/n, i-it’s too much.”

“just be patient, baby, okay?” you say soothingly, caressing his cheek. “you’re doing great.”

you curse under your breath when you feel yourself cum all over him. “you feel that, pretty boy? you feel me creaming on your cock?”

“uh huh.” he says hoarsely, his voice becoming weak. “please let me cum inside you. p-please.”

he whines, his dick twitching from overstimulation. the way your walls feel has him whimpering over and over. he loves the way you squeeze around him whether he’s on top or not.

his body shakes, ropes of white cum painting your walls white. you stop, still in position once you take the blindfold off.

matt’s eyes blink at the sudden sight, his bottom lip quivering and his eyes filled with tears. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in as close as you can get.

he lays flatly on the bed, his arms wrapped around your waist. you cockwarm him, not having the stamina to lift yourself. as time goes by, you guys quickly fall asleep in each other’s hold.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

[marchivists]

forever wondering if so many of stephen king’s characters are queer coded bc king is actually interested in exploring queer stories or if queerness is simply part of each story’s horror and is something that is meant to add to the reader’s discomfort 

#stephen king #horror lit #queer lit #i literally have no idea . akldfjsd #take the long walk for example #to me garraty is struggling with internalized homophobia and develops feelings for a man while on the walk #being queer i empathize with garraty and these themes add to the tragedy of the novel itself #but what if i wasnt queer? how would i interpret these themes? with sympathy or with disgust? #how does king what us to interpret them? #is queerness simply another painful/violent/repulsive part of the walk or is it part of the boy's humanity/beauty? #*want #I DUNNO #i do be thinking about it tho #mumbles

[wandasfifthwife]

silence leads to destruction

paring: CEO!Wanda x reader

tw: estblashed relationship (married), r sells art pieces to make money, r is scared of rejection and spirals over nothing, strong heavy fluff, hurt/comfort, happy ending, minor injury (r), reader cuts finger with a knife on cutting board, sappy love confessions bc i said so, suggestive comment at the end but nothing happens

a/n: hi! I wanted to dabble in writing something for Wanda that ISNT smut for once. I read this over once to notice any big mistakes, but it’s not thoroughly proofread. As always, enjoy my shitty writing! 🥳

* золотце = sweetheart and жизнь моя = my world

‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿

With love comes understanding, usually.

That’s how conversation was direct between the two of you, it eased your nerves knowing that she would validate any issue you brought to her and wish to talk it through. Mainly they were initiated by Wanda, but you both took the time to mention if something were upsetting you.

This is the first time it’s crumbled since you’ve been married. It might be because it felt it was directed at you and not just an accident like leaving the water on.

She had just arrived home, finding you making dinner.

“Hey,” she kisses your cheek, smiling into it when you lean into her body.

“Hey you,” you turn your face to kiss her properly, “how was work?”

She grumbles as usual, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“A new hire ruined our campaign by sending in the draft files to the company.”

“I’m sorry baby.”

She re-positions the knife in your hands to not aim over your fingers before continuing, “skill sets are crucial to know during the hiring process, and yet people still lie on applications and say they’re detailed and reliable when in reality they’re aloof and spontaneous.”

It felt stupid to be hurt by her words only because you had something in common with the new hire, your personalities.

“I wouldn’t say they’re lacking basic thinking skills,” you spoke, beginning to defend yourself through the employee, “just a mistake.”

“It could’ve been avoided if they had looked it over twice, but they didn’t and now we may have just lost over 20 grand.”

“It’s a mistake, we make them all the time. I know you’re thinking of firing them, but why not give them a chance?”

“I did and they messed it up again.”

“Why is this hire any different than the others who make mistakes?”

“It’s not just a simple mistake, золотце, it’s a personality difficulty. The others in the department have made a similar mistake once during their ten year term while they’ve made three within their first month.”She moves around you to help stir around the food on the stove, “it would’ve been excused if they were a personality hire.”

An ugly apprehension settled within yourself, “so if someone’s personality gets in the way of work you fire them?”

She agrees from behind you, taking care to turn the nob down so the food doesn’t burn, unaware of how you were blinking away tears.

It shouldn’t have bothered you, but your mind was nothing short of cruel. Often it would have its way and twist words Wanda has said into something entirely different.

All stemming from the motion that she would find out how terrible you were and leave, and you didn’t want her to leave.

You settled on keeping it to yourself, already feeling like you’ve used up all your sympathy cards for this week. Not wanting to seem needy for her affection, you shut it off.

“How was your day, жизнь моя?”

“Good, I can’t complain. I made a couple sales.”

She turned back to face you, “I’m so proud of you.”

She was leaving with a phone pressed to her ear. Undoing the knot the new hire had caused was going to take up her time outside of her office hours.

She paced around the room, tone tense and trying not to yell. Your blurry attention stayed on the dinner in front of you as you tried to look as if everything wasn’t falling apart internally.

Was she going to leave you alone if she found out you made faulty mistakes too?

You gasped with the knife cut through your index finger and everything was just too much. You were quick to turn your back to Wanda, finding the sink and running cold water over the cut.

Tears fell down your face until it had turned into a quiet sob. It was entirely unfair to compare her like the others, she loved you, but the past was cruel in reminding you how things had tended to end. You were entirely too aware of when she ended the call and how the room went silent when she realized you were crying.

“What’s wrong,” she coos, placing a hand on your back as she comes beside you.

“I just cut my finger open again,” you deflect, trying and hoping your smile would be enough but after 5 years together you should have known she’d be able to tell.

The hand on your back moved to your waist, pulling your back to rest against her chest. She reached from behind you, grabbing a towel and holding it over your small cut.

“I’m not mad at you,” she murmured into your neck, kissing it gently, “and I’m certainly not leaving you.”

“But I don’t think the way you do, I’m not detailed about anything. You married the wrong person.”

She called your name, spinning you to face her. “I never want to hear you say that again. I have never once thought I married the wrong person, do not ever think or say that again.”

You apologize, body timid in her hold. She moves her head so you look her back in the eyes, “I love you. I love your expressions when you’re painting, I love waking beside you in the morning, I love how careful you are with others.”

She continues her ramble, tears building in her own eyes, another cry forming in your throat at the sight of her getting worked up.

“I love you too,” you whisper and she smiles, moving forward to kiss you. Your arms wrap around her, tilting your head to kiss deeper. Her hands grab your waist and push you into her as it turns into something more.

“I want to show you how much I love you,” she whispers against your lips. It made you smile, whispering against hers of how you needed her to.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you

[blackbirdi]

The Roommate Problem

Brief Description: Over all the years you and Jason have been friends, you've never found him to have any flaws, until you two decided to move in together. Jason was the perfect roommate, until he started coming home way louder than was necessary, constantly waking you up throughout random times in the night.

Point of View: 2nd Person

Word Count: 1662

Character: Jason Todd x Reader

Age: Jason - 22, Reader - 21

Being roommates with your best friend was a mostly smart decision.

You knew you could trust Jason to always hand rent in on time, he would get groceries when you mentioned you were running low on something, and whenever something was broken Jason was always ready to try and fix it, or call for help when he couldn't. All-in-all, your best friend, Jason Todd, was a great roommate, a perfect roommate; but you forgot one little thing when you asked him to move in with you: he was a vigilante.

Jason being Red Hood wasn't necessarily a bad thing, you really only found one thing bad about it. But boy, was it a bad thing. That thing was that Jason was out practically all night, coming home at any point in the dead of the night. And he wasn't exactly quiet about it either.

Almost every night you were awoken to Jason's annoyingly loud entering of your shared apartment. You found this particularly annoying because Jason was a vigilante he knew damn well how to be quiet. Sometimes you thought he was loud just to annoy you (which is probably true); at other times you thought it was because he knew he was home and knew he was able to let his guard down (which you found very sweet, but probably wasn’t the case).

And here you were, once again woken at ... 4:02?!

"Are you fucking kidding me, Jason?" you growl, having enough of this bullshit. This was the eighth - eighth - night in a row he had woken you up in the middle of the night.

Getting out of your nice, warm, comfortable bed, you slink out of your room and into yours and Jason's shared living room, finding Red Hood standing next to the window, closing it loudly.

"Morning," you greet dryly, sitting down in an armchair, glaring up at him.

Jason jumps, literally jumps as he hears your voice. His hand goes to his holster, removing a gun and aiming at your face.

You cock an eyebrow in question at the barrel staring you in the eye. You know better than to be afraid of the weapon, Jason would never fire that thing at you.

"Oh," Jason mumbles as he realizes it's just his roommate. He lowers his gun, putting it back into the holster before he removes his helmet, smiling at you softly. "Hey, Y/n, what are you doing up at this hour? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I would be," you grumble, your gaze still a glare as he shows his face to you. "But someone was being extra loud this morning and woke me up."

It's almost impossible to see, but you still catch it: the smirk that briefly pulls on Jason's face before he puts on a face of sympathy.

"Oh, shit, Y/n/n, I'm sorry," Jason apologizes, setting his helmet down on the coffee table before he walks over to you. He sets one of his hands on each armrest, leaning down to be eye level with you.

You can't help the shiver that goes through you as he does this. It's intimidating as hell, but it's Jason, so you find it more attractive than anything else. You internally scold yourself the second that thought crosses your head.

"Are you?" you counter, crossing your arms. You fight the urge to look away, wanting Jason to know just how tired you were of his late night loudness.

"Of course I am," Jason replies earnestly, but you see right through him.

He's fighting back a smirk, a chuckle, anything that would give him away that he's been doing it on purpose. You can see the mirth in his eyes, the way they sparkle with amusement as he looks down at you.

To anyone else, they wouldn't think anything of Jason's attitude; but you've known him much longer than anyone else, you know for a fact that he's not sorry at all.

Your eyes narrow in doubt as he answers, and you voice your doubt to him immediately.

"For some reason, Jason, I have some doubts about that," you snap, your voice clear in showing your irritation.

Jason's eyebrows furrow as his lips form a slight pout, he leans closer to you, trying to look innocently as he asks, "What? Why?"

"Because I know you, Jason," you scowl, trying to fight down the growing blush on your cheeks. "I know when you're lying. And I know damn well that you have been purposely loud just to wake me up!"

"Trying to wake you up?" Jason echos, his lips twitching, as if he wants to smile at your claim. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," you huff, glaring up at him. "But I know that you know how to be more quiet than you have been, and I would appreciate it if you remained quiet entering our house. Unlike you, I have places to be during the day."

Finally letting the smile he was trying to suppress rise onto his face, Jason grins down at you, chuckling softly at your request.

"Why would I do that?" Jason questions playfully. "Maybe I want to keep waking you up everytime I get home."

"Why?" you ask, exasperated.

Jason's grin widens as he looks down at you, answering, "Maybe I want you to come and greet me when I get back home, just like I do when you get back from work."

You can't help but roll your eyes at Jason's words, 'Is he serious?'

"I'm not going to greet you very kindly when you're waking me up in the middle of the night," you sneer.

Jason laughs, leaning closer to you as he replies under his breath (but loud enough for you to hear), "I know. But it's nice coming home to someone I feel safe with, someone I know who has my back, someone I care about ... someone I love."

You can't help the red that spreads like a wildfire across your cheeks, the way your heart begins to pound furiously in your chest, or the way your breath catches at the back of your throat. You try to not let Jason notice any of it, but you know it's futile because it's Jason. But that still doesn't stop you from trying.

"Shut up," you grumble, pushing Jason away from you. "You're just saying that to get back in my good graces."

Jason chuckles lowly, your attempt to shove him away not working in the slightest. The only thing your attempt does is make Jason bring himself closer, causing your cheeks to heat up more.

"I am not," he argues softly. "I mean it when I say it, Y/n. I love seeing you; you bring me so much joy, I just have to wake you up so early just so I can see my favourite person ever."

Your heartbeat continues to rise, the tips of your ears beginning to turn red in embarrassment of Jason's words.

"Shut up," you snap, turning your head away from Jason so you don't have to look at him, because you know that your face is just going to turn more red if you do.

Jason chuckles again, his smirk fading into a soft smile as he looks at you look away from him.

"Ah, come on," he teases gently, grabbing your chin to make you face him. "What's got you all flustered, sweetheart?"

It feels as though your brain just shuts off. What is he doing??

"I - shut up," you scowl.

Jason smirks, countering, "Make me."

If it was possible, your face would've been glowing red at this point.

"I-I - uh," you stutter, wanting to look away from him but finding yourself unable to do so because he's got such a firm grip on your jaw.

It takes you another moment to respond (while Jason stands there and smirks at you). When you do respond, you grab his wrist and yank his hand off your jaw. You don't give him a chance to grab your chin again as you get off the armchair by the side (because Jason's standing in front of the chair) and glare up at him.

"I'm not joking when I ask this Jason: stop being so loud when you come home," Y/n snaps.

Jason chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at you, clearly amused.

"Alright, alright," he huffs, rolling his eyes playfully. "I'll be quiet from now on."

You look up at him skeptically, narrowing your eyes.

Jason grins when he sees your reaction, taking a step closer to you and cupping your face with his hands.

"Y/n/n, I promise I'll be more quiet when I come home," he promises, kissing the tip of your nose.

Your blush comes back in full force at Jason's gentle affections.

"Okay, okay, I believe you," you relent, wrapping your slender fingers around Jason's wrists and removing them from your face. "I'm going to bed now; goodnight, Jace."

Jason smiles softly, opening him around up as he asks teasingly, "What? No goodnight hug?"

The smile that takes over your scowl can't be helped as you roll your eyes playfully at Jason and step into his arms, wrapping yours around his waist.

Jason squeezes you against his chest tightly, nuzzling his face into your hair, planting a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

You smile against Jason's chest, your ear in the perfect spot on his chest to hear the consistent beat of his heart.

"Night, Y/n/n," he whispers softly, squeezing you one last time before letting you go.

You step away from Jason, smiling up at him one last time before you turn around and head back to your bed. The only thoughts you have while laying in your bed a few minutes later are that maybe if he keeps being loud you won't complain about it, because at least then you know that he got home safe.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #x reader #roommates #roommates to lovers #friends to lovers #best friends #best friend!jason todd