#tired of all this asinine bullshitting

[futch-disaster]

If mfs want “““better””” terminology than TME/TMA, then they should let us develop our language and theory rather than force transfems to fight for every inch we gain against transmisogyny literally killing us

[chevelleneech]

Watching Frankie Biggz react to the BTS guide, and apparently he said at some point that Tae was acting bitchy during episode 3 of AYS, and got attacked by people who claims he called Tae a bitch.

I don’t watch his reactions to AYS, so I have no idea how that situation went down, but in his reaction to the guide he’s explaining himself and is saying people apparently told him AYS is scripted, and that the show wrote Tae acting the way he did.

I hate that. Tae’s solos in particular are so fucking loud and obnoxious, that they’ve genuinely convincing people AYS is a scripted travel series, just because someone said Tae was acting bitchy. I disagree with Frankie, personally. I didn’t see any difference in Tae’s actions or words, but I’m also a long time fan of the group. I have a better understanding of his personality than someone just coming into the fandom, but that goes for all fans.

Those of us who have been around for 2+ years let alone 10, will obviously know Tae is much more dry and comes across as bitchy at times, and that’s fine. That’s his personality, but it doesn’t mean he can’t also be funny and care free. But to blatantly lie to someone and claim the entire show has been pre-determined and scripted, is such bullshit. Because going forward, Frankie isn’t going to have a true understanding of who Jimin and Jungkook are.

Do I anticipate this older man shipping them? Obviously fucking not, but him feeling as if he was manipulated by a script into viewing Tae a certain way, means he’s going to watch the remainder of the series with the wrong assumption. He’s going to think Jimin and JK are doing and saying things they’ve been written to do and say, and that paints an entirely different picture of their bond.

I truly fucking hate Tkkrs and toxic solos, because one single misunderstanding has led to a new fan stepping into an entirely different mindset now. Because not only is he goi g forward thinking AYS is fake, thus JM and JK likely don’t interact the way they’re shown in the show, but he’s also going to go forward believing Tae is a target of the company in some way, because he was written to come across as bitchy, when the fan made guide show him as being upbeat.

So ridiculous how easy it is to trick new fans, and it’s asinine that the majority of the fandom in Frankie’s comments aren’t calling it out. They’re just saying to not let negative fans get to him, and other (deserved) commented about how it’s okay to take a step back if he wants to. But no one is telling him those toxic fans stem from one specific issue, and that’s them hating Jimin. That’s them hating the fact that Jimin has a relationship (or whatever status) with Jungkook that Tae doesn’t, so they make up bullshit ass lies to make the importance JK himself has put upon Jimin in his life, seem less than what it is.

A handful of people trying to tell him the show wasn’t scripted and that’s just how Tae is, in a metaphorically crowded ass room of people yelling fuck shit, is just not working either. Especially when some of the people telling the truth, are also tacking on their own lies. Saying Tae was probably just tired or upset in episode 3, the same was JK was irritated in episode 6. IRRITATED WHERE!? The entire episode is him saying how happy he was to be back in Sapporo, and having fucking snowball fights with Jimin. He was smiling and laughing the entire damn episode, but one single moment of him JOKINGLY saying he’s being angry for the the sake of the show trumps all?

Fuck those people man. And I know I should be so frustrated, but Frankie Biggz seems like an alright dude so far. He’s a little older and says what he thinks, and the fandom hates that, but some people also welcome it, and that’s cool. But he also seems genuinely interested in the groups musicality as opposed to just wanting to watch them because he sees other people getting into kpop. So it’s incredibly annoying that Tkkrs got to him and are lying to him about who Tae is, as well painting a false image of Jimin and Jungkook’s dynamic.

[lea-andres]

So I know this makes no sense, but it's fine-

Imagine 60s Batman Jason Todd.

So Dick Grayson becomes Nightwing, maybe he moves to another town, maybe he stays in Gotham, who knows, but Batman is out a Robin.

So he finds a street urchin trying to pop the tires off the Batmobile and goes "Oh look, a young delinquent I can rehabilitate by introducing him to the joys of crime fighting!" and keeps him lmao.

60s Jason is less inclined to tolerate the bullshit the puzzling out what the villain of the week is up to and wants to solve almost every problem with his fists (since Batman won't let him at a gun)

Since Aunt Harriet probably would leave with Dick Grayson and we're out that running gag, I think the new running gag should be Jason Todd frequently gets picked up by the Gotham City Police for asinine shit. Chief O'Hara can't stand the punk, but of course fails to notice that same punk is the new Robin, which he gleefully torments him for as much as Batman allows.

The villains all mock the new Robin like they did the old one until they get to know him. With the old Robin, if you found him snooping around, Batman was definitely nearby. If you find the new one snooping around, that turns into "Oh god he did something to this lair, we better gtfo before it explodes or collapses or something". It's all mockery and tomfoolery until you're dealing with Jason Todd without his Batman leash lmao.

"But Lea, what about Red Hood?"

Well... I don't know. They did do Two Face, and canonically at least 6 people have died in the Bat Cave, AND there was mention of Bruce's parents' death. It IS possible to do a 60s Red Hood, you just have to be creative with your darkness.

(But the idea of Caesar Romero beating anyone to death with a crowbar is absurd lmao.)

TL;DR

60s Batman Jason Todd: Mother, I crave violence.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Hello! I hope you're having a nice day. If you haven't answered it, did Arthur ever have Francis around while Matt was under his roof? If he did what were Matt's feelings? It must have been tough.

Oh, Arthur did. Nothing Matt feels is going to be a strong enough deterrent against fruk. Matt's 'parents' + his uncle have been fucking and killing each other for centuries, maybe the better part of a millennia by the time Matt comes along. He's only the odd consequences of their bullshit. Matt sleeps in the barn and sometimes disappears for a few days so he doesn't have to listen to François and Arthur's howling reenactment of the Norman invasion a la huile d'olive. Scoot over 1066 because 10 rounds of 69 has Matt sleeping outside with the horses. I hate to say it but holy shit his opinion, in this regard, could not matter less.

Arthur might feel bad after, tries to schedule it so Matt doesn't have it beaten into his head how little his feelings matter in the sheer length of the horny, loathing, symbiotically formed cesspool that is the love François and Arthur share. But tbh François drives Arthur absolutely wild and he loses all the poorly rationed fucks he might have after about the second knuckle. Kid? What kid? He can't remember his name after the second stroke much less Matt's.

Matt felt kind of sad, a lot angry. But mostly just tired and resigned. Arthur and Francis fucked before the hand over, they're not going to stop when Matts rank drops further after the conquest. He's kind of used to putting up with things and doing his best to stay out from underfoot. He'll go cry in the woods and sulk alone until he gets scolded for something asinine and then he'll get over it (stamp it down until he explodes.)

[cto10121]

Twilight Clownery—Part 2

In the guise of a personal essay on OP’s relationships with toxic men, at that. Honestly, the whole thing is so loosely conceived it just sounds like a parody of anti-Twilight clownery. Let’s get to it.

Already we have Bullshit #1. Although Team Jacob had its passionate adherents, Team Edward was definitely the most popular by a large margin. OP may have ~lucked out by having Team Jacob fans as her friends, but I was there. I remember the discourse, the fanfiction, the ~atmosphere. Most everyone was Team Edward.

Nowadays Jacob—the “healthy” choice—is mostly lambasted for his assault on Bella and his manipulation into kissing him. So already this essay and its ~Team Bella conclusion is several years outdated.

Tag yourself, I’m “reinforced his being a man.” 😂Also, “abstracted danger”—literally nomadic vampires and a whole-ass vampire royal family. Also, also, Edward considers himself a danger as well.

Charismatic and everyone despised them. That is some hot ice and wondrous strange snow right there. The quality of the prose here is truly ~~stunning.

Considering that Rosalie canonically hated Bella for 1) Edward liking her and 2) for Bella wanting to be a vampire and not choosing humanity like she would (*foot stomp*) and viewed her as a baby incubator in Breaking Dawn to the point of Jacob and Edward both calling her out for it in disgust…she is perhaps not the best character to use as a grand metaphor for your sapphic desires, Clown OP.

At this point I’m not at all convinced that Clown OP even watched the movies. This was in Eclipse, and Edward didn’t deflate the tires of her Chevy; he removed the engine. Nor did he forbid her to leave the house, only not to see Jacob or the werewolves. And homeboy literally just gave up after Bella’s toothless “grizzly bears” threat.

This is toxic, all right, and I’m not referring to Twilight. Seriously, wtf? Being heartbroken after a major breakup with someone you love is one of the most realistic parts of the whole series. It’s so real it’s frankly basic. Even Clown OP was appalled, lol.

The movies may have been godawful adaptations, but the fact that they depicted Bella’s heartbreak is not one of them. Had Meyer made Bella move on after a month or two with Jacob or a new beau, I would have called bullshit. Bella was so in love with Edward—he did save her life three times and stopped himself from draining her dry in the process—that no other response would have been plausible.

As if Jacob didn’t show “toxic” behaviors the fandom is in continual pearl-clutching over, to the extent of making the incredibly asinine fanon that Meyer purposefully “ruined” his character in Eclipse. Also, Clown OP unironically thinking that basic-ass compliment is “queer” is clownery of a very different kind.

…Doesn’t Bella actually attribute some of these traits to Edward? In Eclipse? Maybe not all of them, but most? I don’t think Clown OP is making the point she thinks she is making.

One of these days I will make a whole-ass post about this whole notion of reading characters as role models. There are truly people out there who read all fiction as medieval morality plays for actual instruction, and Clown OP is almost certainly one of them.

This is going to sound super wild, I know, but did Clown OP ever consider—just once—that Meyer may be doing this very much on purpose? That throughout the book Edward gets to know Bella and begins to like her as a person? That the whole metaphor of bloodlust isn’t so much carnal lust but dark impulses of (patriarchal?) violence and lack of empathy? That the the whole point of the book is to see Edward develop from an arrogant vampire to a boy in love struggling on being completely out of his element? Did Clown OP ever think of it or did she just want to talk about her awful experiences with men through very hazy memories of watching the first Twilight movie?

(Also, not to be mean or anything, but Clown OP criticizing Meyer’s prose…don’t go throwing stones in a glass house, hon. I’m just saying).

[coyote-nebula]

coatroom

Selina is roped into Seven Minutes in Heaven with Bruce. She spends five of those minutes figuring out why he looks so heartbroken.

HSB Bingo prompt: Hugs Word count: 1000 Characters: Selina Kyle & Bruce Wayne Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, one-sided romantic interest that segues back into longterm friendship

🥂

“Ronnie,” Bruce hedged, voice too flat and rough for the party, “don’t you think we’re a little old for this?”

“Not at all,” Veronica laughed. “And don’t give us any of that false modesty, Bruce, you’ve been studiously not studying Selina since you got here, and everyone else may not know you well enough to know what that means, but you can’t fool a friend. Now get in there!”

Champagne-soaked laughter rippled through the group. Two or three sloshed looking men of various ages all but leered at Selina, and she clamped down on a rude gesture before turning to Bruce with a leer of her own. “Come on, Bruce,” she purred. “You heard the lady.”

He met her eyes and the unusually thin Brucie mask softened, conforming to tired eyes and a wrinkle faintly creasing the center of his forehead. He offered his arm.

She smiled demurely and looped hers through his to the soft jeering of a few other guests. Bruce’s head snapped up at something she didn’t hear, muscles coiling, and with a flash of precognition she sunk her nails into his arm to head off whatever fistfight he was contemplating. He was a raw nerve tonight. Probably not fit to be at this kind of asinine social hour at all, between his vacant pauses and exhausted swaying.

They passed through the coatroom doorway together, Veronica curtsying with a flourish before shutting the door behind them.

“Seven minutes, Bruce, make them count!” she called, barely audible through the thick door.

Bruce didn’t look at Selina immediately— he first scanned the room, the few hung summer sweaters and the plush benches, the carved corners of the closet organizers and the spotless mirror. He withdrew a scanner from his pocket and sighed softly at NO LISTENING DEVICES DETECTED on the small display before his shoulders slumped and his head tipped towards her. 

Selina felt her smirk fall as she took in his pinched expression. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

He swallowed, probably composing a kevlar strength deflection.

Well, that wouldn’t stand.

She stepped closer and put a hand to his neck. He leaned into her palm.

“I can tell something’s up,” she warned. “Don’t even try your bullshit on me.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away, eyes squeezing shut.

Selina cupped his cheek in her other hand and turned his face back to her gently. “Bruce. You’re starting to freak me out,” she said, staying low for any voyeurs hanging around the door. A pang of anxiety brushed her ribs. “Are the kids okay? Alfred?”

Bruce covered the hand on his cheek with his, eyes cracking to peer forlornly down at her. “I… can’t.”

Ominous. Batman didn’t typically talk about things, certainly not to Catwoman, but he usually didn’t sound so tempted.

She hummed; she had six minutes to change his mind. “Alright,” she whispered, glancing at his lips and running the hand on his neck up to his jaw, bracketing his face. “Any suggestions for killing time?”

He curled fingers around her hand, taking it into his and pulling it against his chest. “Come here?” he asked quietly, with a slight rasp that lit something warm inside her. 

Normally she teased, lined him with her body in a futile bid to tempt; that was hardly necessary the way he was looking at her now, and frankly she was curious what he’d do with the open vulnerability pinking his cheeks. Batman and even Bruce were experts at denial, especially to themselves, but now…

His hand— huge, deft— slid around the back of her head and the other around her shoulders. She eyed his mouth, already tasting bitter coffee and devouring fire— but he gently pulled her off that trajectory.

A brief moment of disorientation later, she was being hugged against the body-warm linen of his dress shirt and smooth silk of his jacket instead. 

When his arms tightened, pressing her snugly against his chest, the warmth that poured into her wasn’t the kind she expected at all— chaste and a little concerning in its poignancy.

He completed caging her in with his cheek against her hair and a heavy sigh.

Selina sighed quietly herself, soaking. She had witnessed a hefty number of Bruce Wayne makeouts but only a few hugs during their lengthy acquaintance— one for a tiny Dick Grayson returning from a kidnapping attempt, one for Jason Todd after he’d survived fire, one or two others for the kids at the edge of sight. So, not exactly what she was expecting here.

No complaints, though. He was good at it. 

She realized abruptly that she was standing with her arms loosely at her sides; she threaded them around Bruce’s back and held tight.

He melted, which was as endearing as it was alarming. 

She breathed warm cotton and the vague lemon of wood polish; no cologne tonight. 

“Bruce,” she whispered cautiously. “You’re not hurt, right?”

He held a little tighter. 

“Bruce.”

“I did something,” he breathed. 

“You are a notorious doer of things.”

Her quip fell flat over his increasingly tense stillness.

She frowned. “So? Spill.”

He drew back slowly, but he didn’t let go.

“I almost—” Bruce stopped with a sharp breath, almost like needing to breathe surprised him. “I wounded Red Hood last night. He almost died. He may still die.”

Selina searched his averted, reddened eyes, skeptical. Red Hood was burning and plundering Gotham’s drug network. Rumor had it that he was more efficient than Falcone and more brutal than Black Mask. “And…?”

“I had to recruit a surgical team. He… I left him to come here. Bruce Wayne needed an alibi.”

Selina regarded him cautiously. “You’re hiding him?”

Bruce had lost focus, was somewhere else entirely.

She shook him a little.

He didn’t exactly rouse, but he yielded, folded inward as she pulled him back into the hug.

Selina rubbed a circle on his back, thoughts churning. “Why him?”

“It’s Jason,” he said miserably, close to her ear. “Jason is Red Hood.”

🥂

view on ao3 (you will need to log in)

Notes: Veronica opens the door after seven minutes and the coatroom is empty. They've vanished through the ceiling tiles. Where do they go? You decide. I didn't think ahead that far 😂 🦇 [bat] Bruce is going to spontaneously combust if he doesn't get back to the Batcave to check up on Jason. They go, Alfred shoos them, Bruce shows Selina his favorite manor roof moping spot 🧇 [waffle] Selina takes Bruce to Waffle House, because the party only had caviar and vodka and if she's going to emotionally support Bruce through his crisis she needs to not be starving to death ❓ [?] secret third thing (tell me)

[xazz]

The more it comes up on my fyp and even my dash the more I just... Don't care about your sexuality, or your romance life, or your gender. Like in a positive way. I just don't care about you as a stranger and what the fuck is going on with your interpersonal life.

And god it's so exhausting seeing 1,000 posts from my people even (aros and aces) where I just... I just don't care man. I don't care that you're upset ppl see romance as more important than friendship. I don't care that you think it's crazy people associate sex with being human. Like those are all human experiances and you're being fucking annoying. And I just don't care about your own personal Problem with allo people. Or trans people's stupid issues with cis people. Or is2g I've seen the same 'lesbianism is a gender and a sexuality' post like 15 times and every time I see it I'm this much closer to blocking a mutual (not their fault but I am tired of my fyp serving me that fucking post). Like I'm talking micro petty bullshit. Not hate crime or anywhere NEAR it. But the most asinine complaining about how allos are actually evil for acting like romance or sex is a universal experience.

Listen kids. Asexuals and aromantics make up a microscopic portion of the global population. So yes. To 99.65% of the population enjoying romance and sex is a real thing and that's enough to make it universal.

Or I just see so many posts about how platonic is as good of not better than romance with this veiled insinuation that if you're aro and you like romance or you want to be romantic you're a freak. Like shut up? I don't care about your opinions man. 'your experiances is not universal' well neither is your bitch ass complaining. Sex and romance exists and is important for 90%+ of the global population.

I just don't care, anymore, about aroace posts, or trans posts, or gay posts, or lesbian posts, or queer posts or disability posts, or X marginalized group post that contains so much petty anger. Actual anger is one thing. Petty anger about petty grievances because you don't like some actually innocuous thing in the world is so tired. Get over it. Get mad about something real and not because someone writes robots as 'finding their humanity when they learn to love' is something strange or triggering to you. Get a fucking grip.

[vacantgodling]

for ovw:

1, 9, 10

thank u for indulging me also i hope you’ve been well *tiny hand on face in a caring gesture*

1. the character everyone gets wrong

like most of them imo i’m not even gl 💀 however i think the one that annoys me the most (aside from hanzo dear god) is honestly zenyatta lowkey. like the number of times i see people make zenyatta to be the most kindest happiest boy that blushes easily whenever his partner (usually ram or genji) teases him makes me so ?? tired. like he’s shown to be playful. he’s teasing. he’s witty. he admits in a voice line that he may be a monk but he’s not a pacifist so they idea that he would balk at someone doing violence is silly. and like the infantilization of him is just so odd to me. he’s got more depth than i feel like many people want to give him credit for???

also this may be my own personal vibe but i feel like people dumb down lucio AND dva like extremely heavily. sure they’re young but lucio literally led a revolution? dva is for all intents and purposes a child soldier? yes the other characters look down on dva bc of her gaming but she’s still a very serious and devoted person to her cause she just likes to have fun as well? i feel like a lot of people just focus on the fun omg waifu energy she has and nothing else about her which is like. annoying. lmao.

9. worst part of canon

LIKE. THE LACK THEREOF— jk. there is a canon but it’s so threadbare and stupid. i think top contenders is the fact that the deadlock gang was est in 1976 before ashe was introduced to the lore, and then they retconned this information (kinda) to say that when ashe, cole and [redacted-we don’t know who the third person is] made the gang, they thought it being est in 76 would look cooler and get them more cred basically. that’s what they said and i fucking remember that shit.

also insert my entire rant about how the genji hanzo and kiriko storyline is ASININE for SO MANY REASONS. also the fact that all the japanese characters are old timey samurai and ninjas basically and have essentially canon allowed magic when like no one else (except zen Kinda?) and it’s just. it’s only them. for no reason. Lmao.

also this is super small but the fact that dva a korean has a mech when like. again japan is right there lmao. dva being an idol sure i get but like if we’re gonna do mechs then like bro 💀💀 it’s a small personal nitpick tho lmao.

also just the way there feels like there’s no plan which is why they stopped story modes production entirely bc they knew there was too much conflicting bullshit to string together a cohesive story. it’s giving mess for me.

10. worst part of fanon

i don’t engage with the fandom itself as much as i used to tbh bc all of my old ovw friends aren’t into it anymore (sans valen he’s also not as into it that much. not that i blame anyone. this game makes me want to commit acts of violence). i think my biggest annoyance was the ship factions and how so many of them hated hanzo LMAO. like y’all can’t see a complex character and give a fuck huh? like we will simp for widow bc of her ass and give her a pass because she’s a GirlBoss tm when she yknow. has done some horrible shit lmao??? we Adore reaper who is also a complex character that has done some Rancid shit. but for some reason back in the day people were SOOOOO up in arms against people who cared about hanzo. it was Exhausting. like mind ur business lmao. i don’t think anyone is wrong for liking literally any of ovw’s characters but like i never understood why the vitriol for han specifically lmao.

[nidonemo]

I’m so fucking tired of struggling.

Struggling to work, struggling to earn money, struggling to put food on the table, struggling to learn, struggling to create, connect, build, establish, reinforce…it’s horseshit! All of it horseshit!

Then there’s the grind, the hustle, the game, the players, the this, the that, fuck it! I hate all of it!

If this is what life is I don’t want it! None of it! How is any of this misery fucking worth it?!

You can’t even have what you want as a goddamned adult! All the adult language and content is barred! Then what the fuck is this?! You can’t be yourself, you can’t express yourself, you can’t speak for yourself, you can’t have yourself!

I hate it! I loathe it! I reject and I condemn it! Infuriating, insufferable, asinine, idiotic, horrendously stupid BULLSHIT!

[ioletia]

Thots...

Monday is Labor Day- and I'm not allowed to work. It's actually sort of annoying, because it throws my whole week's schedule off. Normally I would work Monday/Tuesday, have off Wednesday, then work Thursday/Friday. Monday would be a short day, followed by a long Tuesday. Wednesday to recover into Thursday/Friday being medium to heavy work days. Next week? Ugh. Tuesday is going to be a very long day with retail resets that will spill into Wednesday. Thursday and Friday will be a bear as well. I don't want to work that much...

Going into my second thought, I took this job because of the flexibility of the scheduling. I have a list of things to do every week and I could get them done whenever I wanted. Which is great, because some days I'm just too exhausted, depressed, sick, or just generally disabled to do much. My body sucks, sorry. But, the job isn't as flexible as I was led to believe. And part of that is because...

Walmart is a shitty company that shouldn't exist. They hold so much market share/industry power that they can just tell people to jump- and they'll have to. Walmart makes the demand that I have to be at their stores before 11am, in addition to having special training to be in their stores, and apply for their badge system. It's a lot of work for a store that is antithetical to... My entire existence? I really wish that Walmart would just be nuked out of the market through increased taxation/tariffs on Chinese goods.

Also, detergent being locked up is the most asinine bullshit ever. If theft is that big a problem, maybe, I don't know, get out of the business? Because theft really only exists in a society that can't take care of its people. If people are resorting to crime either because of necessity or profit- you done fucked up your society. And Walmart is a big fuck up of our society. Not only because they have such massive market power, but also because of the tax burden they create. They underpay their workers to the point that most of them are on social programs to get by- and guess who pays for that. Not Walmart- not the company that makes over $10B a year in net profit.

Also, I'm salty from waking up in pain. I think it's proctalgia fugax- a literal pain around the rectum. It usually happens when I'm dehydrated or if I take an anti-diarrhea med or if I don't take my nightly magnesium.

I've also been trying to ween off my beta-blocker because I thought it was causing me some serious depression. That kind of failed. Apparently, I've been on it so long that my body was like, "No, I need this now." Which isn't great, because I only have about a weeks worth of the one I like. I have another, but it makes my digestive system unhappy. I have an appointment at the end of September to see my primary to fix all of this- but, that's like a month away.

Secret thought. My body has been a pain since forever. I really don't like it. From the rare genetic disease that caused me migraines/HBP for nigh on twenty years, to the lack of pleasure it feels, to the randoms pains I get like I was stabbed by a ghost... It's just a lot. I've been wishing to die since I was, god, what, twenty? It's a long time to suffer. Hence why I've always been a proponent of suicide. Life is what you make it, but sometimes the hand that you're dealt isn't really worth being played. Or you're not enjoying the game. Life is very tiring- and with a body already tired, I just don't want to play anymore. My god, I wish I could stay in bed today and just listen to background noise. But, I can't. Money, capitalism, and a life that continues on for no fair reason.

[biscuitsngravie]

vent under cut // disability, injury

sometimes i wish i was just born with the disabilities i have now. like, im sure that i was already disabled to an extent (most teenagers don't get sick once a month for a year i dont think) but it's like

when ppl say ur one accident away from houselessness or disability they're right. cause after my first car accident i was mostly "fine" (fine enough to walk home instead of taking the ambulance cause i was scared of the cost). i was lucky that i ended up working from home for that year coincidentally enough. credit score? shot. finances? shot. but i could still "function" mostly.

then there was my second car accident. being the passenger, that quote about passengers getting the bulk of injury? yeah. couldnt walk, couldnt stand, could barely breathe. but i did it. did my at home exercises and learned how to mostly do things again. like yeah my back hurts more often than not, and i cant stand for as long as i used to, and there are these weird pains all over my torso sometimes, but im "fine."

then that fucking ladder months after my second accident. if those two didnt take me out, the ladder sealed the deal. barely able to do anything by lie down and stretch my muscles as needed. constantly on painkillers just to go to exist. and after months of physical therapy (i had to go to myself because it wasn't "far enough" to be covered, which included a minimum of an hour walk and occasionally more) im deemed good enough to go back to work for one hundred percent care. yay me.

im "totally" healed, right? buuuuut i just gotta do these back exercises every day for the rest of my life to stand and oh yeah, im at risk of scoliosis now. im "good as new," right? yeah for sure, i just need to take some form of painkiller on occasion because all the places that "used" to hurt (they never really stopped hurting) will have flair ups and, oh would you look at that, i cant walk today. i cant stand today. i cant breathe today.

im so tired. jobs dont take me seriously cause im not legally registered as disabled. but if i even put on the application or mention that ive at the minimum history of disability, they ask me if i can "handle" the job. they send me emails saying they "filled the position." so since im not "really" disabled they can just basically give me bullshit. and i would register, and i wanna register so bad! i want a prescription for a wheelchair, to get a proper crutch, or crutches when both my knees arent being agreeable. i wanna be able to sit in the fucking disability spot on the bus without people staring at me to get up just because someone with a visible disability came in or an elderly person walked on.

im tired of having to pretend that im not in constant fucking pain because im so young. young people arent disabled. black women arent disabled.

but its also so scary. to prove disability is one of the most frightening and dehumanizing processes ive heard of. even when i was doing the claim after i fell off the fucking ladder did prove to be a hassle. and that was in my favor. the fact that ive been working is definitely not gonna help the situation. "if disabled, why work? 🤔"

theres also the savings cap. i have trips i wanna go to, places i wanna be. having a savings cap on being a recipient of disability is actually asinine. theyre pushing to raise and it and GOD i hope that bill goes through.

they basically fuck you over if you're married so there goes my aspirations of partnering ig. countries that wont let you cause ur disabled. countries that wont let you immigrate because of disability. its all so much.

this is all so fucked and this system is so fucked and its so tiring. i just honestly wish i was just born with whatever i have going on right now so that id know what to do. i just woke up one day and now i have an entire routine just to exist and i just wish it was already part of my life in some way ig. idk.

part of me is so mad. why did i listen to those people pressure me to get a car? why did i have to comment on missing that turn? why did they try to make that turn? why didnt i just, idk, not fall off the ladder hello?? why didnt i just take the medical debt from the hospital? would i be able to walk better or get care or get a case and be approved if i just kept going to the hospital instead of working?

hell, those fuckers at the original emergency room didnt even touch me, saying that i'll "bounce back because [i'm] young." its been a year now. theres not fucking "bouncing back."

i cant fucking walk as well as i used to. i cant stand some days. some days i have to practice how to breathe. i just wish that instead of having repeated trauma i was just born with it or something so that this isnt new. i hope that doesnt come off as ignorant as fuck or rude. idk how else to word it.

i wonder about if i can even take the sports i want to next year. or if i can even work at this new job that wants me to work all these hours a week. idk. working all those hours a week is ridiculous anyway. if the accidents didnt disable me that shit wouldve eventually anyway ig. guess i just got a head start. look at me, an overachiever. i did next week's work, too, teacher.

i feel like if i could get diagnosed or if i got diagnosed as a child that i'd be "legit." that i woudlnt have to "prove" to anyone that im disabled. i hate telling people i hurt and hearing about how much i "dont know about." or hear "wait till ur older." im tired of having to constantly tell ppl that young ppl can hurt, too, just to divulge in my medical history to "prove" that im "actually" disabled. im so tired. i just wanna say my knee hurts and someone passes me an ibuprofen or acetaminophen.

[loren-ipsen]

the old story:

I love him, I feel so alone.

He doesn't think anyone has anything to offer him. I'm not his equal in his mind or life. He's so ready for me to leave that he's pushing me to the door.

He thinks he has it all figured out. It's such an arrogant thing to think. I can see so clearly how far he has to go and he insists this awful state and matching coping mechanisms are the end and it will be this way forever.

It's so unfair to me. I want to be there for him but I'm so tired and I'm going through my own stuff too. And when I am, I feel so neglected by him. That he's not on my team, has no support to offer me, has no understanding, wouldn't ever want to accommodate my emotional needs.

Why should I always have to lift everyone up while I feel this horrible deadly feeling every day? I wanted to be in a relationship with someone attentive and thoughtful and humble and positive. Someone mature enough to know things change and no situation is ever permanent. Someone mature enough to love deeply, to love and take care of themself and their body because if you can't do that, you can't do it for anyone else.

He will always get defensive. Nothing hurts more. He doesn't think I'm wise, he doesn't think I'm smart, he thinks he knows everything and I don't. But he's still in this trauma survival state. And to act like he is farther along than me and knows more than me and everything I've been through he's had it worse... I don't want that relationship. I wanted someone different.

I want to go home on awful awful days like these to someone who acts way nicer and is more respectful and humble and empathetic. It feels like he has selfishly claimed that slot in my life so that I can't search for any other relationship of this nature, the thing I want most, yet he refuses to provide emotionally, refuses to recognize everything I do to pull him up and realize that I'm trying for him and that means something.

I will always make it by financially. Even when I was getting food out of dumpsters and pantries, even when I used a mobility aid for two years because work was so grueling, I made it by. I need something only another human could provide. And I believe in this. I believe in love. I believe in our ability to save each other.

He has this terrible habit that he has to one-up you, and I can't stand this about male culture. I will never tell anyone I have had it worse than them, I will not tell people that what they've been through doesn't matter and to get over it. I'm not one of his guy friends, why can't I ever just say something and he accepts it and doesn't compare it to his own thoughts or experiences? Why can't he just tell me what he's thinking and what he has been through? There is no competition, there is no fight.

Can't he accept that he is out now, that it is over and the recovery can begin? Why keep yourself bouncing between reliving those feelings and being in a state of shock where nothing gets done and you convince yourself that that's the answer all while wallowing and rotting in the sorrow and anger???

The sexism, the misogyny that surrounds me every day and saturates our culture and media is the disease. We won't eradicate it, we try like idiots to treat the symptom with metoo or whatever stupid bullshit. But no one tries to call each other out on perpetuating that kind of thinking. And that's what's responsible for Michael walking free, for any sexual abuse to anyone of any gender being allowed to happen. The way we assign asinine irrelevant meaning to how we are born. I will never allow racism, sexism, etc. in my presence no matter how casual. And I'll always be the snowflake idiot hysterical sensitive stick-in-the-mud girl because God for-fucking-bid anyone is afforded that same feeling of safety and life being worthwhile that comes so easily to the people on top.

I'm not a sensitive snowflake complainer. I'm a good, normal, competent person who gives a shit and the rest of you are so selfish, greedy, and foolish that you can't see past your own life into caring about others. You should be embarrassed and ashamed.

Please lord, if you hear me, heal all this. I'm so miserable in a home that should be my one place to be completely safe and loved. I'm tired of this old cyclical story.

[odinsblog]

it's funny because the evidence and witness testimony shows Rosenbaum and friends attacked Rittenhouse first unprovoked. You're just angry because they failed to kill him and got shot instead

Look, when I was a kid, because of my father’s job, my family moved around a ton. There was a period of time when my siblings and I attended a new school every year. So I was the perennial “new kid.” And yeah, I was big for my age, so as a result, every other day after school I was constantly fighting the bully dejour who tried (and usually failed) to use me to prove their toughness. Me vs. one, two, three other kids at a time was the norm. Unsurprisingly, I got really good at fighting. Really good. Not because I enjoyed it, but because I was determined not to get my ass kicked and become the new school whipping boy.

Blah, blah, blah—what’s the moral of the story? More than once, before the end of the school year, teachers and administrators got sO fucking tired of me “beating up” on kids—who remember, unprovoked attacked me first—that they began a “zero tolerance” policy to fighting. More than once , I found myself dumbfounded as I sat in the principal’s office as an adult repeatedly tried to explain to me that, “Odin, it’s actually the second punch that starts the fight. So really, by hitting them back it was YOU who started the fight.” I thought that was asinine then, and I still do now.

If an active shooter can claim “self-defense” when reasonable people react predictably and attempt to disarm the active shooter, then the words “self defense” have completely lost all meaning. Rittenhouse was the provocateur. He himself created the danger that others were responding to—HE WAS THE DANGER.

Look, I know that this is a troll ask, submitted by someone who is upset that I recently blocked them—because I don’t allow racists to use my posts as a springboard to gain visibility & add their bullshit comments to my posts—but I see this bass ackward “reasoning” being spread by Republicans, racists and gun nuts (redundant, I know) on social media, so I decided to answer it ….

I don’t think that I can sum it up much better than tumblr user @teaandtimepieces did in this post, so I’ll just copy & paste their words here:

“[Kyle Shittenhouse and the Proud Boys] caused fear and agitation by showing up armed and marching around intimidating protestors. Which is WHAT THEY MEANT TO DO. Then used the unrest to justify shooting people. Remember, the first man he killed threw a plastic bag at him, Kyle heard a gunshot from the other end of the parking lot and used that as an excuse to shoot the guy who threw the plastic bag. This was the self defense he was talking about. A plastic bag. The other two people he shot were trying to remove his gun from him while he was an active shooter running from the scene. You do not get to claim self defense from someone trying to neutralise you, an active shooter.” [emphasis mine]

Lastly, here is another post that I think accurately summarizes why narrowly looking only at what “provoked” Shittenhouse is about as dumb as saying, “it’s the second punch that starts the fight.”

👉🏿 https://odinsblog.tumblr.com/post/668456167955185664

I wish Vile Kyle nothing but pain, suffering and karma :)

[trashangel-dee]

A short Chardee fic based off this bts pic:

“Ireland!” Dee smiles cheesily at her phone’s camera. There’s a few shutter clicks as she changes angles, while the guys ignore her.

“Hey, guys! Come take some pics with me,” Dee happily turns and calls to the four men milling about by the cliffside.

“Pics? What the hell are you talking about, Deandra?” Frank demands.

Dee rolls her eyes, losing patience at the old man. “Pictures, Frank. It’s the hip new word.  They’re for my Instagram.”

“C’mon, Dennis,” Dee whines, posing for the camera again. “Come take a picture with me.”

“And be seen with you? No way,” Dennis scoffs.

“No one follows that pathetic bitch anyway, Dennis,” Mac jumps in.

“Well go on, then. Be in Dee’s picture. No one’s gonna see it,” Dennis challenges him.

“Eww. No,” Mac looks disgusted.

Dee gives up. Those three are asshole a and Charlie’s already disappeared from view., wandering off to who knows where. For whatever crazy reasons run around in his head.

“Fine. Whatever, boners. I don’t need you anyway. I’ll find some hot Irish guy alone, anyway.” She turns to get a slightly different background and raises her phone. Dee jumps and shouts, nearly dropping her phone when an image appears on the screen as something grabs her shoulders.

“What the hell, Charlie?!,” Dee smacks his arm. “You scared me.”

Charlie rubs at the sore spot, unfazed by her reaction. “We’re doing pictures, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dee says surprised. She turns back to her previous position and Charlie follows suit, placing his hands on her shoulders and pressing his body close.

Dee takes a deep, almost shaky breath, and smiles, hoping Charlie won’t notice. His proximity and niceness making her nervous something will screw that up. She likes those moments when it’s them against the works. Hell, sometimes it’s them against their own gang. She snaps the photo and brings it close to inspect.

“I like it,” Charlie confirms. Dee stared a few more seconds and nods in agreement. “Will you send it to me?,” he asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Dee complies, typing his name in her messages and hitting ‘send’.

A moment later his phone dings. Charlie pulls it out and grins, “cool.”

There’s a beat of silence, as neither knows what to do next.

“Hey, wanna go look for leprechauns with me? I bet this place is loaded with them,” Charlie offers.

Dee sighs, tired of this yearly topic. “Leprechauns aren’t real, Charlie. They’re made up.”

“They are real, Dee. If they weren’t, how would we know what they look like?,” he challenges.

Dee considers it. Logically, she knows it’s bullshit. But all myths are based on some facts, right? She glances back to Dennis, Mac and Frank, all too busy with their asinine plans to pay attention to the pair.

“Fine,” Dee agrees, “But we’re not sharing our fortune with them.” She points her thumb in the guys’ direction.

“‘Course not,” Charlie agrees, as they head off across the hilltop.

[pumpkinpaix]

** the disclaimer still applies: don’t fucking dogpile, don’t harass using this as a springboard. furthermore, do NOT @ robin about this for fuck’s sake she’s already taken far more than what was warranted and this is not about her **

@daciafelix, out of respect for robin’s request to lay things to rest, I will be speaking to you on a separate post here.

however, I will not be letting your replies on the post in question slide. I’m very angry with you, and I want you to fucking know it. I’ll paste the three replies here.

1:

mirrorofprinces go back under the bridge please. Robin, you should ignore the trolls, they aren’t solitary creature it seems. You apologized and you should move on. I am tired of seeing a good author beaten down by people who don’t seem to understand how nonprofit fictional worlds work, not to mention reality. Dear “Chinese diaspora” , your trauma is real, attacking people is not the way to solve it. This type of attitude is what got Archiveofourown banned in China.

what the actual fuck was this? “Dear ‘Chinese diaspora’“? you have the audacity to tell us not to attack people while mocking us in the same goddamn breath? the lack of self-awareness that takes is stunning. congratulations for lowering the fucking bar once again!

perfunctorily saying that our “trauma is real” means nothing when the rest of your response dismisses us wholesale as “trolls”, insults our cultural identity -- one that we have repeatedly explained is a complex, difficult topic -- asserts that we have no grasp on the politics of fandom, that we’re delusional, and then!! has the fucking sanctimonious presumption to blame us for CCP censorship of AO3 in china. whether or not you intended any of that is irrelevant, because you still fucking said all of it and we still fucking heard it.

you don’t know jack fucking shit about the 227 event and it shows. the lack of respect that you exhibited in this reply is unbelievable. I was fucking there when this went down, I cried for days. I watched my chinese friends having mental breakdowns in private forums, a chinese friend i had met literally two weeks prior on AO3 emailed me in dismay for what had happened -- this is someone who had been working up the courage to send me a message for literal months and we managed to exchange emails just before the firewall went up -- you don’t understand, you can’t understand the sort of devastation that was felt. if you did, you wouldn’t have brought it up like this as a cudgel for sweeping our legitimate pain aside. blaming the victims for the acts of a violent and oppressive government is a fucking shitty look.

2:

Cloudyfromoobsession I have read it [*the chinese diaspora statement], it makes me really disappointed. They treat fan fiction as some deep existential writing, which is not necessarily wrong but they have to acknowledge that not everyone is divining the meaning of life in a mdzs fic or any other fandom. Transformative work as a principle is based in the exploration of alternative visions starting from a canonical point, there is no rule that fan fic needs to appease a certain portion of the fandom or even stay true to canon.

I see that you have shit reading comprehension as well! not to mention a seriously questionable philosophy on the responsibility of transformative work as a whole. once again, you mock our genuine efforts to express something very important to us by saying that not everyone is trying to “divine the meaning of life” from a fic -- we never once said that fandom wasn’t supposed to be lighthearted and fun -- I’m pretty sure we said the opposite in fact! I love that you think that our concerns are a matter of taking things too seriously! you’re basically just telling us hey, it’s not that deep! let it go!

why should i fucking have to let this go when so many people act like you and have in every sphere of my life from the time I was born? why should I continue to bite my tongue, smile and play nice? because it’s not convenient when the model minority kicks up a fuss?

“there is no rule that fan fic needs to appease a certain portion of the fandom or even stay true to canon,” you say, like our race, identity, generational trauma, are just a matter of differing headcanons or taste. this isn’t about fucking appeasement, it’s about human respect and compassion. no, there’s no rule that all fic has to match anyone’s personal taste, but there is a fucking expectation that fic, and any other creative endeavor in this community, has a responsibility to examine its own impact in context. how explicit must the harm be before you put your foot down? if the characters said “ching chong” and chinese diaspora shouted it down, would you still say, “well, it doesn’t have to appease you”? “just look away”? “but I liked it”?

tell me to ignore my own oppression again for your personal comfort, I fucking dare you.

3:

mirror, as the author has asked to put all this to rest I will not engage with you. I’m well aware that Chinese censorship is a more complex issue and larger that a fandom spat, and yes it had nothing to do with chinese diaspora fans, it was the spirit of this type of “poisoning the well” I was invoking.Limited word comments are not good for exhaustive discussion. But being rude and dismissive to someone who apologized(I mean the author) makes you an immature bully. Good day

funny how you think you can act like you’re taking the moral high ground by acting like you’re complying with robin’s wishes to “lay things to rest” when you ignored her requests to stop defending her twice with your asinine bullshit. if you’re going to act like you’ve got the moral high ground, you better make damn fucking sure you actually have it.

I am going to give you. a sliver of the benefit of the doubt and try to believe that you didn’t intentionally try to justify your sinophobia using a turn of phrase with  antisemitic associations (one that was already discussed at length during the previous incident). I know that the history of “poisoning the well” isn’t terribly well-known, so this is just a reminder/to let you know that it’s a loaded phrase and should be used with caution, especially in a discussion that involves antisemitism.

in any case, you’ve already demonstrated an incredible amount of ignorance regarding chinese politics, so I don’t see any reason to believe that you are “well aware” of the complexity that underlies chinese censorship. the fact that you invoked it at all betrays how little sense you have of the history, how close it is, how much very real, terrifying harm has been wrought -- people love to use the CCP as a gotcha! to shut down or derail conversations about sinophobia. it’s an extremely common tactic, whether or not you realized it. do you all not realize that the people who suffer the most from an oppressive government are the people that live under its shadow? why is that so hard to grasp?

i have friends younger than me whose parents were close enough to tiananmen to hear the first shots ring out. the daughter of one of the photographers of tank man that snuck it out of the country is a year older than I am. my mother has been cautioning me for having political views since I was in middle school, citing the red guards of her generation and how they were manipulated and left to die by the CCP. I could tell you about shit that happened in my immediate family that would make your blood curdle. these stories are not unique or rare. keep that in mind the next time you want to whip out the CCP in an argument.

you’ve stated that limited character replies aren’t a good medium for discussion. fine. you’re welcome to pick this up in reblogs if you want. I’ve said my piece. good fucking day.

[hobeemin]

Delightful Temptations: Desire

🌹 Genre: Smut, PWP, Supernatural AU

🌹 Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) OC

🌹 Rating: 18+

🌹 Warning(s): Incubus!Yoongi, Dom!Yoongi, smoking, brief domestic dispute, insults, brief violence, threats, escort, flirting, seduction, teasing, unprotected sex (PDA: safe sex is the best sex), consent, fingering, dirty talk (Yoongi is filthy), oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, edging, biting, blood (?), some aftercare, alcohol, swearing

🌹 Inspiration: MB

🌹 Word Count: 5.4k

🌹 Credits: @yoongs-jeontae 💜 a special shout out for putting up with this sinful series...yeah it’s fluff for the remainder of the year 🤣😂

🌹 Summary: Three deliciously woven tales about a group of Incubi with a taste for something oh so sweet.

🌹 A/N: For the @bangtanshadowfamily​ Creatures of Moonlight Manor Halloween collab

“Min Yoongi!”

“Min Yoongi!”

“Min Yoongi!”

The cheers echoed into faint whispers from the stage as he walked down the corridor towards the backdoor of the theatre. Undoing his black bowtie, he let it hang around his neck. Pushing the door open, he stepped down the stairs and pulled a clove cigarette out of a small case. He lit it after struggling with the flame and inhaled deeply letting the smoke fill his lungs. He closed his eyes relishing the taste of cinnamon and nutmeg enrapturing him. His moment of silence was interrupted as his eyes shot open, annoyance read across his face.

“I know you’re there. Come out.”

Two men shimmered in front of him towering over him by a few inches. Slightly irritated he gave them each a curt nod.

“I can’t even have a moment's peace,” he muttered.

The male closest to him with auburn hair chuckled leaning on the railing. “Oh come on Hyung. Can’t we congratulate you on your performance?”

The tallest perched against the brick wall, nodding in agreement. His ash-brown hair bangs hanging over his eyes. “I think it was your best yet. You didn’t even give an encore.”

Yoongi shrugged, tapping the ash to the ground. “You know I like to leave them on edge Namjoon.”

“Pfft. Bullshit. You played the piano. The way they were acting, you would think it was a rock concert,” Namjoon said incredulously.

Yoongi shrugged. “Classical music has a way with women. Yall should try it sometime. What do you say Hobi?”

Hobi shook his head grimacing. “No thanks, I’ll pass. Do what works for you.”

Yoongi tossed his cigarette in the ashtray and blew out the remaining tendrils of smoke. “So why am I being graced with your presence? I thought you had women occupying your time.”

Hoseok smirked. “They have to rest at some point.”

Namjoon laughed, nodding an agreement. “Actually we wanted to take you out to celebrate.”

“Hard pass. I plan to hole up in my hotel room with a great bottle of bourbon,” he replied.

Hoseok’s lips formed their signature pout. “What? How lame is that? When was the last time you had a good time? Wait, don't answer that. When was the last you fucked...for pleasure?”

Yoongi’s eyes rolled upward. “That is none of you goddamn business.” He brushed his dark hair off his forehead giving them both a hard stare. “Frankly, this little bet we have going is asinine. I’m over it.”

Namjoon shook his head. “It was your idea in the first place, Yoongi. Gonna back out now on us.”

“Yall can suck it for all I care,” he spat angrily. With a sigh, he slouched against the building. “Screw it. I’m tired and all I wanna do is sleep. See you later.”

The pair watched their brother walk off just as a car pulled up. 

---

Yoongi exited the car thanking the driver just as a valet walked up. “Evening Mr. Min. Staying with us again?”

“That’s right. Good to see you, Williams,” he replied pushing the revolving doors open.

Stepping into the lobby, he looked around at the familiar setting. The cream and gold colors stood out under the accents of ebony furniture. Fresh flowers lingered in the air. The enormous teardrop chandelier swayed above the front desk with the winding majestic staircase behind it. A baby grand piano stood near a roaring fireplace as small groups mingled about near the bar off to the far left, holding drinks. 

Lovely, he was in time for cocktail hour. Something to do later after checking in.

Yoongi stepped to the front desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket. The front desk manager looked up from his computer and gave him a smile.

“Mr. Min! Welcome back!”

“Good evening,” he stated with a nod.

The manager typed a few keys on the keyboard. “Same room, alright?”

“Of course.” 

The manager handed him his keycard. “For you sir. You won’t be disturbed–”

Out the corner of his eye, Yoongi could see a man and woman arguing near the foot of the grand staircase. From their body language, things were getting heated. He picked up a few parts of their conversation.

“You think I owe you something? You’re lucky I even considered giving you the time of day! You’re nothing without me, you hear?! Nothing! Just another pretty face with a mouth who can blow!” the man whispered angrily.

The woman didn’t flinch at his words. In fact, she seemed bored with it all and it probably wasn’t the first time she heard him say that or heard those things. This angered the man more and he slapped the purse from her hands, knocking it to the ground. As she bent down to collect the things spilled over the floor, he grabbed her up by her arm and shook her hard.

“Did you hear what I said? Bitch, answer me!”

She slapped him across the face making him step backward. He recovered quickly, stomping forward fist ready to swing when the hotel security appeared grabbing the man. The manager blushed in embarrassment. 

“Oh my goodness! The vulgarity!” The manager gave Yoongi a pleading look. “I swear. Nothing like this happens around here, sir.”

Yoongi smirked, pocketing his room key. “No worries. Have a good night.”

Instead of going directly to his room, Yoongi decided to have one more smoke. Something caught his eye on the ground. One of the key cards laid on the floor where the woman had dropped her purse. He reached down and picked it up, flipping it around in his hands before sliding it into his suit pocket, and walked on.

To Yoongi’s amusement, the security guards stood glaring at the man trying to keep him from the woman. She held her purse, the clasp now broken, and looked smug at the man. He was livid, face blotched with red. “You can’t kick me out! I paid good money to stay here!”

One of the guards shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we don’t permit that sort of behavior. We’re gonna have to ask you to vacate the premises.”

The man sputtered in shock. “Vacate the–” He roared looking at each guard. “Do you know who I am?! I could have you all fired and this place condemned! If I had any–”

“Hey,” Yoongi slipped his cigarette between his lips and sauntered over casually. They turned to him curiously. The security guards gave him a quick look of understanding and backed away. Yoongi jutted his chin towards the door. “You’ve caused enough of a disturbance. Why don’t you leave while you still have some dignity?”

His face  turned a shade similar to a beet as he stalked up to Yoongi squaring him up. His finger jabbed him in the chest making Yoongi stumble back. “Who the fuck are you? I’ll do what the fuck I want and I’m gonna stay here!”

Yoongi brushed the front of his jacket, adjusting it on his shoulders. He glanced over at the woman with a quiet smile. He pulled the key card from his pocket and held it out to her. “I believe this is yours, miss.” She stepped forward and took it from his fingers giving him a small smile before moving away from the group. 

His expression darkened at the way Yoongi ignored him, he grabbed him by the front of his shirt bringing him to eye level. With a sly smirk, Yoongi’s eyes turned black letting the man see his reflection. “You don’t wanna fuck with me. Take your shit and leave. Got it?”

He paled as he dropped his grip on Yoongi and put as much space between them. He practically jumped into his car as the valet pulled it up to the curb and peeled off. 

The woman had watched the exchange, far enough away to not hear the words, but she saw how quickly the guy left. The breath she’d been holding, escaped between her lips, and she slumped back against the wall with a sigh. 

Yoongi noticed her body language and walked up to her, tucking his cigarette away. “Everything alright?”

She jumped with a startle staring at him. “Yes. Yes. Um...I’m fine.”

He hummed and pulled his loose tie from his neck and stuffed it in his pocket. “Cool. Have a good night.” He turned around and walked back into the hotel whistling to himself. 

She finished picking up the fallen items, stuffed them in her clutch purse and walked back in. Her thoughts racing at what to do in her current situation. Should she leave? Stay? Drink herself silly at the bar? She sighed checking to make sure the keycard was secure in her purse and headed towards the elevator. A night alone seemed like the smartest choice.

Staring at her phone, she didn’t notice anyone next to her until the elevator chime.

“After you.”

She looked up in surprise to see Yoongi standing in the small lobby hallway.

“Oh, thank you.” She walked in as he followed, fingers extended over the buttons.

“Your floor?”

She looked up from her phone feeling dumb. The elevator had yet to move. “Oh...uh nine, please.”

Yoongi nodded and pressed the button. “Hm, same floor as me.”

She shrugged with a smirk. “Small world.”

Now that they were alone, Yoongi was able to get a better look at the woman. Not that he wanted to pass any judgment on her, but she looked expensive. The blood-red ruched dress with sleeves seemed like a second skin on her. A sleek leather jacket rested on her shoulders, dark hair pulled off her face and twisted into a bun, minimal jewelry–just a pair of ruby earrings and matching ring. Name brand clutch held close to her side, makeup strategically placed to accentuate her features. Ankle strapped heels tapping on the elevator. He admired her appearance with quiet precision, never letting his eyes off her face. She was beautiful.

As he watched her, she did the same with him. Was he her type? She wasn’t sure, but was anyone? Whoever could afford her services was treated like royalty for the night. Being worshipped until hours ran out. Still, even though they only spoke maybe a few words, she was intrigued by him.

“Thank you,” she said.

He raised his brow at her inquisitively. “For?”

“What you did back there,” she explained slowly. “That guy...he would have been a pain to deal with later on. I don’t know what you said, but it was well deserved on him.”

Yoongi snorted. “Just a bit. And it was no trouble, he won’t be a problem anymore. How’s your arm?”

She shrugged. “I won’t break. Been through much worse.”

“I’m sure you have,” he replied.

She caught herself staring at him. His eyes seemed to pull her in. Shaking her head, she wondered why it was taking the elevator so long to get to their floor.

“I’m Desi,” she said.

“Yoongi.”

The bell chimed, signaling that they had reached their destination. Yoongi waited for her to walk off first before exiting. They stood in the hallway as the elevator doors closed and lowered back to the main lobby. Desi pointed down the opposite end. “I’m over there.”

Yoongi jerked his head in the opposite direction. "I’m in that corner.”

“That’s the penthouse suite,” she exclaimed.

“I always stay there when I’m in town,” he responded nonchalantly. 

She whistled low, clearly impressed. “Well, you’re full of surprises.”

“And so much more,” he hinted, a playfulness in his voice.

Desi chuckled softly looking away from his strong stare. “I won’t hold you up anymore. You probably have much better things to do than shoot the shit with me. People waiting on you and whatnot. Take care Yoongi.”

As she turned to walk away, Yoongi cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m just planning to decompress the remainder of the evening.”

Desi paused biting her lip but kept her back to him. “Oh, that’s a shame.”

He roamed her body momentarily before tugging at his earlobe. “I wouldn’t say no to some company.”

She turned back around giving him a smile. “I’d be pleased to join you.”

As the door beeped open, Yoongi pushed on it letting her walk in first. Desi looked visibly impressed by the suite. Wall to ceiling windows exhibiting the city’s skyline as the stars twinkled as a piano sat in the corner. Comfy leather couches circled a floating fireplace with a mini bar off to the side. A glass staircase led up to the bedroom that overlooked the entire suite with a glass divider. 

Yoongi walked over to the mini bar and saw a bottle of Woodford Reserve wrapped in a bow. He smirked, removing the top and grabbed a glass. He looked over his shoulder at Desi and held the bottle up.

“Would you like some?”

She nodded walking in further and placed her coat over the back of one the couches. “Yes, please.”

“How do you take it?” He inquired.

“Just one ice cube,” she answered, taking a seat and getting comfortable.

Impressive. She knew how to drink her bourbon. He filled her glass and walked over handing it to her, opting for the couch opposite hers. 

Desi took a generous sip, closing her eyes reveling in the smoothness of the alcohol. Finally, something seemed to go her way. 

Yoongi watched her over the rim of his glass. She seemed more at ease now, though she piqued his interest.

“So...Desi, what brings you here tonight?”

Her brow quirked at the casualness of the question. How boring. With the faintest smile she sat her drink on one of the coasters. Legs crossed with her elbow resting on the arm of the couch delicately, she finally answered him after a long pause. 

“I would think someone of your caliber would have guessed why I was in a place like this.” She ran a finger through her hair thoughtfully. “I cater to a higher breed of clientele.”

“Hard to tell by how that guy was down there,” he replied airily.

She smirked, grabbing her drink off the table and took a sip. “Touche.” Licking her lips, she looked him over with the same scrutiny he gave her. “So...Yoongi, what brings you here?”

Aw, how cute, she was deflecting. He tilted his head side to side, eye closed. 

She noticed how long his eyelashes were. He almost didn’t seem human by his movements. 

He got up and pointed to her almost empty glass. She nodded and he went over to the bar to pour another round for the two.

“Well,” he began letting an ice cube clink into each glass. “I come here to hide away. Alleviate what stresses I’ve accumulated.”

“From?”

He chuckled, returning back to the couch and handed her the glass. “People, life, responsibilities.”

Desi gave him an odd look. Usually, people would be intimidated by her aura. He seemed at ease. That was odd. Who was this man? Quiet, calculated, but still an enigma. Desi, due to her unconventional occupation, was able to read people easily. But with Yoongi, he was a blank slate. He only said what needed to be said in the moment. As much as it confused her, she found it oddly attractive. 

Finally taking notice of the piano by the windows, she got up and went over to it. Lifting the fallboard, the ivory keys shimmered under the lights. She stared at it fondly and ran her fingers across the board in a crescendo.

“You play?” He asked, observing her from his seat.

“Something like that,” she answered, still looking at it.

Yoongi emptied his glass and crunched the ice slowly. “Play me something.”

She glanced over a shoulder at him with a frown. “Don’t patronize me.”

He met her gaze, eyes hardening. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’d like to hear you play something.”

Desi stared at the piano ivories, gathering her thoughts. With a sigh, she placed her fingers over the keys and started to play. As she got more relaxed, her playing grew bolder. The melody grew, almost bringing out her inner thoughts. 

Yoongi watched from afar. There was a sadness to it as she played, but an undertone of sensuality. Her technique more than intermediate, he could tell she had played for years. He set his drink down and walked over to her. Yoongi leaned on the piano just watching her. 

Desi’s eyes were closed as she played, her body in sync with her piano playing. It became an extension of her body. Nothing mattered. To Desi, the only thing important was the symphony she created.

A yearning came over Yoongi. Something about her made him feel...infatuated. Still, while he was aware of what she was, what she did–that wouldn’t stop him from having her. Yes, that’s what it was.

He wanted her, in the worst way.

She finished in a flourish of notes ending with a decrescendo. Yoongi clapped softly as she opened her eyes. Her cheeks flushed now realizing he was standing so close to her.

“You’re talented,” he stated. 

Desi rolled her eyes, but smiled. “It’s been ages since I played. I’m surprised I still remember that song.”

“What was that? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it before.”

She smirked. “That’s cause I wrote it.” She sighed in longing. “I wasn’t always like this. I had dreams once upon a time.”

Yoongi drummed his fingers on the piano gently. “Shit happens.”

Desi let out a bitter chuckle and nodded in agreement. “Shit does indeed happen.” She raised her brow at him with a playful stare. “Do you play?”

“Hmm,” he glimpsed at her with a beguiled expression. “I dabble.”

She snorted scooting on the bench to give him room. “Bullshit. I wanna hear something. I’ve embarrassed myself enough tonight.”

Yoongi laughed, his smile spreading and he sat down beside her. “Fine. What do I get if I do?”

Desi poked his side. “Respect,” she answered coyly. That earned another laugh between the two of them. 

He grinned rolling his shoulders. “Fair enough. Any requests?”

She gestured to the piano. “Whatever you feel like playing.”

He nodded, fingers poised over the keys. Starting the first new notes, the smile dropped from her face. He cleared his throat as he began to sing. “Makin’ my way downtown, walkin’ fast, faces pass and I’m homebound.”

Stupefied only momentarily, she swatted his shoulder making him stop his playing as he broke out in a fit of giggles. He snorted through the tears. “I couldn’t resist. Your face was priceless.”

Desi huffed crossing her arms over her chest. “You think you’re so funny.” 

He gave her a gummy smile and winked. “I am. You just don’t appreciate my humor.” He wiped his eyes giving her knee a squeeze, surprising her by how warm his touch was. “Alright I’ll play you something for real this time. I promise.”

As if getting into the zone, Yoongi began to play. This time an attentiveness and a sprinkle of calmness took over him. The passion apparent on his face. Desi felt a burst of emotions take over as she observed him. He seemed otherworldly. The way his fingers danced across the keyboard was an art. It took her breath away. As he finished the last few notes, tears trickled down her cheeks as she let out a quiet sob.

“How did you know?”

 “The River Flows in You is a favorite song of mine. I play it when I’m feeling down.”

“I love that song,” she whispered.

“I can tell,” he murmured looking into her eyes. His eyes searched hers with a tiny smile. “I’d love to kiss you right now,” he confessed, shocking himself with the comment. 

“You wanna kiss this face with tears and runny makeup?” she asked incredulously.

Yoongi reached out and wiped them away with his thumb. Desi surprised herself, letting him wipe her tears. Such intimacy she wasn’t used to. “I wanna kiss...whatever you want me to kiss,” he answered, his voice husky.

She felt that through her core as she shuddered making her thighs clench together. Biting her lip, she leaned towards him, her eyes flicking to his lips. “Then kiss me.”

Yoongi licked his lips, his gaze lustful and he bent forward. Before their lips touched, Desi pulled back at the last second a mischievous smirk on her face. He shook his head highly amused with her antics. While he wasn’t one to play games, with her it didn’t seem foolish, although he had a feeling she was teasing him, making him work for it, and that suited him fine. 

He got from the bench and held his hand out for her to take. Desi placed her hand in his palm and he helped her to her feet. Tugging her close to him, the heat radiated off their bodies. They stayed like that for sometime just breathing, bodies in tune with the other's. Yoongi reached out and curled her hair between his fingers moving to hold her face gently in his hands. The longing in his eyes made her almost weak. 

God she wanted to kiss him. 

What had made her pull away before? She hardly had time to think of a coherent thought before Yoongi gripped the back of her neck and crashed his lips to hers in an untamed, passionate kiss. She gripped the front of his jacket pulling him closer until their bodies molded into one another. Yoongi moved his hands to wrap around her waist. His tongue slipped past her lips, running it gently with hers. Her moans muffled as the kiss deepened.

Yoongi could feel his desire for her grow and knowing they’d need air, he pulled away. Desi wobbled from the force of the kiss. Lips bruised, cheeks flushed, the lust burned in her eyes. As she let out a needy moan, Yoongi kicked the bench of the piano out the way and pushed her against the piano. Her ass landed on the keys making her jump with a startle.

Eyes dark with yearning, he stepped forward only to have her leg lift up and her heel press against his abdomen. She wagged her finger while tsking. A playful smile on her face. This little tease. Yoongi took note of her dress riding up her thick thighs. Licking his lips, eyes narrowed, a snarl formed on his face.

“Take those off. Now.”

A shiver ran down her spine as she felt her body respond to his command. Desi dropped her foot to the floor and raised her hips, slipping her fingers under her dress, dragging the material from between her thighs. Once her underwear reached her leg, Yoongi took it upon himself to yank them down and off her, throwing them over his shoulder. He knelt down in front of her, never wavering his stare. He ran his hands over her skin, chasing the goosebumps as they formed.

“You really are beautiful,” he murmured. “I bet you get told that all the time.”

Desi mewled at his touch, watching his fingers tickle her skin as he pushed her dress up. “Not enough,” she said, letting out a needy moan.

The smell of her sex perfumed the air. Yoongi practically drooled at the sight. He nipped at her inner thighs, his nose grazed her outer lips. With a low, rough moan, he glided his fingertips against the velvety skin already coated in her arousal.

“I’m going to taste you,” he said, making eye contact. “Make you fall apart.”

Desi squirmed, her muscles clenching on nothing, but craving something more. “D-Do it.”

“Say please,” he hissed.

She let out a shaky breath and pleaded. “P-Please.”

Yoongi went at her like a man starved, devouring her. He attacked her clit relentlessly, sucking and nipping the sensitive bud as she writhed under him. The piano keys banged as her hips slammed into it. Her fingers grabbed his hair, keeping him immobile–not that he wanted to if he tried. Two fingers slid into her pussy curling downwards on her muscles fucking her slowly. He shaped his mouth over her clit like a suction coaxing her sweet little cries forth. It was music to his ears.

Desi could see stars from how hard her eyes were shut. Her orgasm built quickly–something that rarely happened, even in her profession. 

“Y-Yoongi, I’m gonna come!”

He stopped his motions, removing his fingers. Desi drew out a whimper at the sudden motions of losing his touch. 

He sucked on his fingers relishing her taste and closed his eyes in ecstasy. “Not yet. You’ll come when I think you're good and ready.” 

She cooed watching him suck his fingers, her body buzzed in excitement. Her hand extended out to yank at his waistband before he slapped her hand away. He opened with eyes as they glowed. “No.”

She sulked at being rejected. Her lips quivered as her eyes softened. “But I want to make you feel good,” her voice subdued.

He snickered, bringing her up to stand off the piano. “Another time.” He gave her ass a squeeze as he kissed her lips. Nibbling on her neck to hear her gasps, he traced her pulse with his tongue. “All I want is to be buried deep inside you, fill you with my cock, and make you scream my name.”

Desi whimpered as a fresh wave of lust rippled through her body. Yoongi’s eyes burned with thirst. “Can I do that, Desi?”

She reached down and palmed the front of his pants, his cock straining against the fabric. “Fuck me. Now.”

Without any hesitation, he ripped her dress open like it was paper. Her breasts bounced out of their confines and he latched on to a nipple, suckling harshly. Desi threw her head back trying to not crumble to the floor. Yoongi let her nipple go with a pop and gave the other one equal attention. 

When he felt her growing weak against him, he picked her up with ease and tossed her on the couch. Desi laid spiraled there looking at him with hooded eyes watching as he undressed.

“We’re not going to make it up to the bed,” he growled. “I need you now.”

She trailed her finger to her pussy lips purring as she drew small circles on her clit. Yoongi’s Adam’s apple bobbed staring at the sight. It was enough for him to step forward, closing the space between them. “Turn around for me,” he ordered. “Get your hands on the arm of the couch.”

Desi did as she was told, becoming aroused by how he was taking command. He fist his cock, running his hand up and down the shaft staring at how her pussy dripped. Grunting, he lined himself up, coating her arousal on his tip and shaft.

“Fuck Desi,” he croaked.

He almost cried out as he slipped past her folds. That warm velvety sensation gripped his cock causing his leg muscles to shake. Breathing out hard through his nose, he thrust in slowly taking note of her reaction. Desi was in a state of exhilaration. She engulfed his cock greedily, her breath hitched once he was hilt deep. They both exhaled, getting used to the sensation. He leaned forward kissing a trail down her spine causing her push back on him earning a slew of curses by him.

Yoongi waited until she gave him the cue to start and began to thrust. Slow at first, stretching her walls as she felt every vein in his cock rub her walls. She writhe, gripping the arm of the couch for dear life. Through gritted teeth, she looked over her shoulder at him. 

“Go faster.”

His fingers dug into her hips getting a better grip and pulled his cock out, only leaving the tip. He leaned in to her earlobe, kissing and tracing the shell with his tongue. “You can ask better than that, kitten,” he drawled, moving one hand over her clit to circle slowly making her hips jerk forward. Desi keened into the touch as he went painstakingly slow. She clenched her teeth attempting to hold back her moans.

“Ah...fuck...Y-Yoongi...right there...please...please I want to feel you...all of you.” 

Shit that was hot. 

Yoongi wasted no time and slammed his hips into hers. The only sounds of their grunts and pants. He kneaded her flesh under his hands, almost bruising the skin. His free hand wandered back up to her neck, her hair cascading over his skin, he wrapped the strands around his fist and gave a sharp pull forcing her head up. The tingling sensation jolted to her core, arousing Desi. Her eyes rolled back as he pumped into her continuously.

That familiar feeling returned as he edged her closer. He could sense her body readying itself to climax. He slowed his movements, shuddering at the vice like grip around his dick. Arms shaky, Yoongi positioned them onto the couch cushions laying horizontal. There was enough room for both of them to lay against each other. His back against the backrest as she laid against him.

He turned her face to him and captured her lips,  tasting her tongue in a slow sensual way. Desi moaned, wrapping her arm around his neck pulling him in more. Yoongi groaned, sucking her tongue as he moved down to nibble her neck.

“You’re going to surrender to me and come undone while I fuck you slowly.”

He lifted her leg and pierced her in the new angle. Desi cried out as his cock hit her deeper than before. Massaging her breast and he grinded her pussy slow and steady, eyes boring into hers. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“Do you want me?” he teased, breath tickling her ear. “Fuck. I want you kitten. I want you to be mine. Make you feel like this all the time.”

His words made her throb, she almost couldn’t take it. “Y-Yes Yoongi...I-I want you. I want to be yours!”

He smirked as his fangs slid into view. “Say it Kitten. Say it again!”

“I-I’m yours!”

Yoongi plunged his fangs into shoulder just as both climaxed at the same time. Her walls quivered around his shaft as he coated her insides with white. Desi convulsed against him riding out her high as Yoongi got his fill in two ways. 

He tore away from her shoulder letting her essence drip from his lips closing his eyes in bliss. Desi went limp from the sheer force of her orgasm, her breathing uneven. Yoongi lapped at the trickle of her essence still flowing from the wound. He kissed it, making the wound close up and rested next to her, still impaled in her pussy. 

Sweaty, but satisfied, he brushed the hair off her face and kissed her cheek gently.

---

He wasn’t sure how many hours passed, but Yoongi awoke still cuddled with Desi. He slipped from her pussy and placed a blanket over her body, grabbed his robe and went out to the balcony to have a well deserved smoke. He sniffed, taking in the scenery as he blew out some smoke. He sensed the air around him change as he leaned on the rail, a bemused look on his face.

“Get the fuck out here.”

Namjoon and Hoseok shimmered into view with smug expressions. Yoongi barely acknowledged them while he smoked.

“Say what you need to say and get those shit eating grins off your faces.”

Hoseok laughed, clapping his hands. “I have to say I’m impressed Yoongi Hyung.”

Namjoon nodded in agreement. “Damn, you put her to sleep too. Shit Yoongi.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he sighed. He glanced back through the glass doors. “She’s different.”

“I bet,” Namjoon chortled. He glanced at his watch and whistled low. “Speaking of that, I got an appointment with Naomi.”

Hoseok cursed glancing at his phone. “Shit. Yeah. I promised Zoe I'd stop by.”

Yoongi snorted in disbelief. “Who's the whipped bastard now?”

Namjoon waved him away, rolling his eyes. “Alright, you made your point. We’ll meet up later, yeah.”

“Sure. Night fellas.”

They shimmered away as the glass doors slid open. Desi, wrapped in the blanket wiped her eyes letting out a sleepy yawn. “Y-Yoongi?”

He smiled, took her hand and kissed her forehead. “Sorry didn’t mean to leave you alone. You looked so peaceful sleeping.”

“It’s okay. I thought I heard voices,” she said nuzzling against him.

“Naw was just people down below,” he explained, extinguishing his cigarette. He lifted her chin pecking her lips. “How about we go take a shower and get in bed? I think I have a few more ways to show you what I have to offer, kitten.”

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