#Purveyors Show

[agir1ukn0w]

bonus:

[quatregats]

Honestly probably another win for Lieutenant is that it might be the only book in which Hornblower actually has to face a proper moral quandary on par with his character

[vigilskeep]

ok full offense youre so funny i cant wait for your posts to finally blow up like u deserve, have a great day

why would you wish the curse of tumblr popularity upon me

[frankmillerturnonyourlocation]

I wish I could make like, just SOME of my posts show up in tags. like how we can turn off reblogs now. I owe an apology to the wayside school fandom

[quinnlarrabee]

Macron's fiery Sorbonne speech targets summering American Millennials

It’s no coincidence that Emmanuel Macron gave a fiery speech about the threats facing Europe the same week that American Millennials in New York, LA, and Miami began talking about booking their one-way flights to the continent. "There is a risk our Europe could die - we are not equipped to face the risks," Macron said, referring to the dietary allergies, alternative milk needs, and tedious conversations of trust-funded, unemployed young adults who will begin their summer in Paris to attend a museum benefit that spills into a large dinner party with several professional photographers before traveling to Puglia, Comporta, or Ibiza where they will subsist on ‘beautiful tomatoes,’ flat whites, and MDMA. 

Europe has struggled with illegal immigration for decades, and there is no more pressing illegal immigration threat than American Millennials who have decided that being unemployed in Europe is less distressing for their parents than being unemployed in Williamsburg. Google searches for ‘how long can I stay in EU without passport’ spiked in late-April among Americans who have not yet bought a Portuguese passport from a guy who used to run a turnkey Burning Man camp who is now running a Golden Visa scheme in Lisbon. “Our Europe today is mortal,” Macron said. “It can die and that depends solely on our choices,” the choices being whether or not to search and detain for ketamine at customs and how to clearly define tipping protocol in restaurants. 

“It used to be enough to spend a couple weeks in Italy in July,” observes Coco, a 34-year-old retired gallery founder who is on the board of several art-related non-profits that she instructed her unpaid interns to start. “But now it gets so hot in Europe in July that everyone is going in June and even like, May.” Coco has several weddings and dinner parties in various coastal destinations in Europe in June, but she has not yet RSVP’d nor has she booked any travel. “I know I’m going to go, but I’ve just been too busy to look at the dates or book anything,” she says, absently picking some kind of beige matter from the left eye of her toy goldendoodle. Macron at one point asserts in his speech that Europe is “too slow and lacks ambition,” referring directly to Coco’s ambivalent European travel plans. 

Uncertainty permeates the vibe in Europe right now, not because of a military threat posed by a giant, angry country with cocked nukes driven by a weak-minded Cold War relic, but because every Millennial in New York, Miami and Los Angeles has expressed their intention to occupy Europe without declaring the targets. 

“Is very stressful,” says Aldo Melpignano, the proprietor of Borgo Egnazia, a trendy boutique hotel in Puglia that for Europeans costs €120 a night and charges 30something Americans visiting from coastal zipcodes $970. “I see the hashtags on the Instagram, like, I’m coming for your @borgoegnazia,” he says. “Va bene, Allison, when you gonna come for us, and are you gonna come with that stupid capello?” says Aldo while making a pinched-fingers emoji with one hand and pointing to his head with the other. Hotel, coffee shop, organic market, and narcotics purveyors all over Italy, France, Spain, and Portugal have echoed this desire for more resolute planning and fewer hats from the demographic that funds the less productive but more desirable EU countries.  

"We must produce more, we must produce faster, and we must produce as Europeans," Macron said, a rallying cry to European DJs to sample only vocals that were recorded in native European languages.  

“Europe must show that it is never a vassal of the United States and that it also knows how to talk to all the other regions of the world," Macron said, refuting the irrefutable fact that Europe has become a summer camp for unproductive younger Americans and suggesting that they be immediately deported to Bodrum or Izmir upon landing at CDG, MXP, and LIS. 

“This is a betrayal of our values that ultimately leads us to dependency on other counties,” Macron said, making an observation about Europe’s frustration with having to work between May and August in order to show American Millennials how to correctly tap their credit card on puzzling European payment terminals.

“Europe must become capable of defending its interests, with its allies by our side whenever they are willing, and alone if necessary,” said Macron, in defense of French baristas who do not like working with oat milk. Taking a hands-on approach to ensuring the EU’s “ability to ensure our security” Macron and his wife will begin their Summer at a wedding in the Aeolian Islands in early June, float around Sicily or Puglia the following week, head to Bonjuk Bay for an appearance of prominent LA-based DJ, RICHE, and then couch-surf in Santa Gertrudis de Fruitera the rest of the summer.

[tinkizzig]

Humans have always had their finger on the trigger, they are always ready to strike, and yet they relax and are calm whenever you see them. This bi-polar like response is terrifying to many in the universe and most seem to see the humans as always ruthless and bloodthirsty, which they really are. 

Morgranff: I can’t believe how ruthless a fighter that human was, did you see how it bent itself in the air to avoid that strike from the Horned Goliath?

Stencillon: Yeah, I saw it, it cost me my whole night's bets.

Morgranff: You bet against a human?

Stencillon: The Goliath was twice his size, that human didn’t stand a chance if you looked at the physics of the fight.

Morgranff: Yeah, they are often overlooked when it comes to the ridiculous agility and chaos that goes with every human. 

Stencillon: Well, I also never thought that a human leg was capable of slicing through the thick neck of a Horned Goliath especially when its horns interlock over the neck and act as natural armor. That fight clearly showed how vicious and deadly a human truly is. 

Morgranff: Of course, I haven’t stopped betting on the humans ever since I had made that very mistake, that being said, can I buy you a drink?

Stencillon: Yes, I would love to celebrate your winnings with you.

The two start walking down the bustling corridor of the “Fight Palace”, and both freeze at the sight of the, now clean of Goliath blood, human fighter they had just watched dispatch the Goliath.

Stencillon: Why do they let humans walk around freely like this? Shouldn’t they keep such a vicious predator in a cage?

Margranff: You know I have never understood it either. Humans are far too unpredictable and I have never felt safe around them unless I am on the other side of the barrier fence at a fight. 

Stencillon: Should we go around the other way?

Margranff: Yes, but what is the human doing? 

Stencillon: I don’t know but it is approaching that child over there, I am going to call security.

The human crouched down next to the clearly homeless Maldovian child. The child’s blue skin ruffled as the human carefully spoke in hushed tones.

Margranff: What is he after with that kid?

The human pulls out a roll of dollar bills from his pocket and separates a few offering them to the child. The child reluctantly takes the money and stands up by taking the hand of the human that had just been offered up following the cash. They slowly walk together to a food cart and talk to the Purveyor of meat kabobs. The child selects its food and the human steps up to pay for the food.

Margranff (whispering to himself): Is he going to eat the child?

Stencillon (on a communications device): yes, the human is doing something with a homeless Maldovian child…. I don’t know his intention, he is a human!... I won’t interfere, that is why I am calling you…. Yes, I feel like I am in danger, the fight winning human is walking around doing unpredictable things.

The human and the child sit together against the wall in the corridor and chat while an amplified voice from the stadium calls out a new fight in the ring. The child is really just stuffing his face and nodding as the human goes on and on about something that is important to him but definitely not important to the child.

Stencillon: the security officer is on his way. 

Margranff: Good thing too, there is definitely something up with what this human is doing, even though I can’t put my finger on it. 

A security guard comes running up and slows to a stop at the sight of the human. The guard turns his head to one side contorting his face in total confusion as he tries to take in the scene. The guard stops analyzing everything and starts psyching himself up to go talk to the human. The guard sort of stretches and sort of hops around trying to get up the courage when he suddenly freezes.

Margranff: Did the security guard just scare himself or something? 

Stencillon: No, look, there are two other humans that just showed up. 

The two newly arrived humans walk straight over to the first one who is still talking to the child who has already finished eating the food he had. They interrupt what the first human is saying and the first human gets up on his feet and bares his teeth at the two interlopers before they stand against each other and start squeezing each other.

Stencillon: are they beginning to wrestle?

Margranff: If they are fighting, what do you bet the first one loses to the other two?

The security guard had been nervously calling for backup this whole time and is still in disbelief that this already dangerous call had tripled in danger before he had even started. The guard feeling defenseless pulls out his weapon aiming at the humans who had now switched the wrestling to the first and third human. 

Stencillon: this is going to end badly, if that guard shoots one of them the other two will rip him to shreds. 

Margranff: At least this situation will end with the child being rescued.

The humans start pointing to the child after unlocking their arms from the wrestling lock they were in. the three of them begin raising their voices at each other.

Human #3: COME ON….ANOTHER….CHILD….EAT!

Human #2: YOU DO THIS ALL THE TIME.

The third human walks over to the kabob cart and starts talking to the vendor.

Margranff: Are they going to eat the child? 

Stencillon: That’s what I just heard, they must be checking with the food cart guy to see if he will cook the child for them.

The large burly Maldovian Head of security shows up walking casually to the security guard, lowering the nervously held weapon, tells him to stand down. 

Stencillon: head of security is here, I am going to get closer and see what happens.

Margranff: I’ll come with you. 

The third human turns around from the cart holding a lot of food. He walks over and hands the child one before handing one to each of the other humans. The Head of security steps over to them just as Stencillon and Margranff get close enough to observe while still remaining at a relatively safe distance.

Head of security: Steeeeve? 

The first human deflates knowing he was in for a lecture and some disappointment. 

Head of security: How many times have I told you, you can’t adopt the children that hangout around here.

Steve: But Orri, the kid is homeless.

Orri (head of security): No, this kid’s name is BahOni, he lives down the street from here, he lives with his brother, sisters and both his parents, he cannot be adopted. He probably heard from a friend about a prize winning fighter who buys lonely kids food and gives them money. 

Steve: I know, I know, but I…

Orri: NO!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at Think Big Picture:

For years, critics of Vladimir Putin have been warning that the Russians have taken over parts of the Republican Party. They raised the alarm as Republicans defended the Russian leader, parroted clear Kremlin talking points, and became mules for disinformation campaigns. In recent weeks, that criticism has shifted to include not just Republicans who have left the party, including former representatives Liz Cheney and Adam Kinzinger, but current GOP members. Recently, two powerful Republican chairs of the House Intelligence Committee and the House Foreign Affairs Committee warned openly about how Russian propaganda has seeped into their party and even made its way into speeches on the House floor. Other members are now even openly questioning whether some of their fellow officials have been compromised and are being extorted. Rep. Tim Burchett (R-TN) suggested in a recent interview that the Russian spies may possess compromising tapes of some of his colleagues. It’s unclear where he’s getting his information or how accurate it is.

And then there’s this: According to a report by Politico, a number of European politicians were recently paid by Moscow to interfere in the upcoming EU elections by Russians pretending to be a “media” outlet called “Voice of Europe.” The Kremlin-backed operation used money to influence officials to take pro-Russian stances. Authorities have conducted some money seizures and launched an investigation into which members of the European Parliament may have accepted cash bribes. This in turn raises an important question for our own politics: Are the Russians doing the same with U.S. politicians, directly or indirectly? This piece walks through the three types of compromise—disinformation, extortion, and bribery—to give a sense of what we know and what we don’t really know, and, importantly, where we should be on our guard. As this summary will show, from the 2016 election till now, there’s enough Russian smoke now to assume there is a fire, one that compromises not only the integrity of our own system of elections, but the safety and security of the free world. Duped.

Over the past year, we have witnessed two distinct kinds of Russian propaganda in action. Both use our own elected officials and intelligence processes to amplify and even weaponize disinformation. The first kind originates online through Russian-backed internet channels. Information operatives begin spreading false rumors, for example about Ukraine, that then get repeated within right-wing silos before reaching willing purveyors of it within the halls of Congress. A chief culprit in Congress is Georgia’s Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene. Among the Russian-originated false narratives she has uplifted is the patently false claim that Ukraine is waging a war against Christianity while Russia is protecting it. On Steve Bannon’s War Room podcast, Greene even claimed, without evidence, that Ukraine is “executing priests.”

Where would Greene have gotten this wild, concocted notion? We don’t have to look far. Russian talking points have included this gaslighting narrative for some time. The twist, of course, is that, according to the International Religious Freedom or Belief Alliance, it is the Russian army that has been torturing and executing priests and other religious figures, including 30 Ukrainian clergy killed and 26 held captive by Russian forces. The Russians have also targeted Baptists, whom they see as U.S. propagandists, according to an in-depth Time magazine piece on the violence and death directed toward evangelicals. The Congressional propaganda mouthpieces for Russia aren’t limited to the U.S. House. Over in the Senate, Ohio Senator J.D. Vance was also recently accused of spreading Kremlin-backed disinformation about Ukraine, this time over spurious allegations that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy siphoned U.S. aid to purchase himself two luxury yachts.

[...]

The accusation that Russians are presently extorting and blackmailing U.S. politicians into supporting Russia’s agenda has some broad appeal. It would help explain some mysteries, including why people like Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-SC) suddenly is no longer as supportive of Ukraine as before and constantly kisses the ring of Donald Trump these days—after presciently saying in 2016 that the GOP would destroy itself if it nominated him. 

The problem has been that these accusations aren’t supported by much evidence. That means that political extortion by the Russians is either not a very prevalent practice, or it’s so effective that no one dares expose it. Either way, we’re left without much to go on. The Russian word kompromat came into common parlance around the time that Buzzfeed published a salacious story about another intelligence report back in early 2017. In that instance, the author, a former British intelligence officer named Christopher Steele, was concerned Russia had compromising data on the soon-to-be president, Donald Trump.

That report never wound up being substantiated, and its sources and funding came into question as well. But intelligence agencies are in general agreement that obtaining kompromat is standard practice by Russia, and someone like Trump could have been an easy mark considering the company that he kept (e.g. Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell) and the projects he was involved with (e.g. the Miss Universe contest). Lately, the notion of kompromat emerged once again, this time not from Democratic-paid outfits but from within the GOP itself. Rep. Tim Burchett (R-TN) is one of the more “colorful” characters within the GOP, primarily known lately for being one of the eight members who voted to oust former Speaker Kevin McCarthy and even for getting into public jostling and shouting matches with McCarthy.

The Republican Party (or at least its pro-MAGA faction) is compromised by Russian kompromat.

[djuvlipen]

Of course media representation is important, especially for children who grow up and always see their people depicted as thieves, criminals, spirits with a special bond with the devil itself, be it on TV, in movies, in cartoons, in books, etc etc. Of course it is important to give acting opportunities to aspiring Romani actors.

But media representation isn't the main purveyor of anti-Romani violence in the world. 80% of Romani people in Europe live below the poverty rate. Romani women are disproportionately impacted by the sex trade. In many places in Europe (both Eastern and Western), Romani people are still segregated in neighbourhoods and at school, our access to healthcare is poorer and our life expectancy is 15 years shorter than the European average. Every month or so, we have to hear about anti-Romani protests held by Neo-Nazis in Europe, about a Romani person killed by the police, or about pogroms carried against Romani people.

So while it is good to talk about media representation, it becomes a problem - a big problem - when it receives much more attention and engagement than actual acts of brutality against Romani people. I have seen hundreds of posts on here and on Twitter, I have seen leftist influencers talk about it on Tiktok, but where was this energy last week when a romani man was murdered in france? when romani children were stripped away from their parents in leeds? when is that energy every other day of the year when Romani people (and women in particular) have to face poverty, homelessness and segregation, are at risk of human trafficking, get discriminated against in the workplace?

While it is good to advocate for better Romani representation now and then, media representation won't fix any of these issues. You can't place that much hope into TV shows and movies. Media and culture aren't powerful enough to get rid of social/economic oppression. Quite the contrary; it is the economical and social marginalization of Romani people that leads to racism in media and culture. And at the end of the day, it feels very callous and disheartening to see so many people care more about fictional Romani people than they do actual, breathing Romani people. If you actually want to support Romani people's rights, then you should redirect all of that energy into supporting causes that actually address the root of Romani people's oppression:

reparation and acknowledgement of the Holocaust and Romani slavery,

boosting conversations about segregation,

holding the police accountable when they kill a Romani person,

abolishing the sex trade,

supporting Romani women's reproductive rights (compensation for forced sterilization + better access to abortion facilities)

supporting homeless people's and migrant people's human rights

[divinehedons]

lost and found

pairing: soft dom!joel miller x f!reader

word count: ~4k

summary: your arrangement with joel miller is built on mutual trust. what happens when, in the throes of hedonism, he himself breaks that trust?

warnings: this is a dark, EXPLICIT fic, minors do not interact! no outbreak au, so many unrequited feelings, angsty angst angst angst, explicit p-in-v sex, dubious consent, use of a safeword, teeth-rotting aftercare and fluff, brief use of a sex toy, bath sex, brief depiction of make-up sex, somewhat (definitely) blasphemous and makes a mocking of religion (i'm not sorry :>>>>)

note: thank you very dearly for reading! please let me know what you think and what you see next; asks are very much welcome, reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

“See, this is why you need me, sweet girl. Because otherwise, who’s goin’ to make you feel this good?”

It was those words that follow you every day since you’ve begun such a tumultuous connection with the Texan contractor. Those words that stayed with you when you woke up from his tongue between your legs after the first night you fucked together. The words that stayed together when you made an arrangement. When you finally submitted to him.

You meet him in a shared apartment, in darkness, as well-put as could be from a day of work, kneeling with your wrists presented before you. By the end of the night, moments before he drops you off, he looks over your smeared lipstick, your neck littered with blood-red hickeys of his doing, wrists red. He'd look you over, then he'd smirk, waiting for you to turn back and wave goodbye. Only then will he have the last word. "See you next week, darlin'."

–

You met him at trivia night, glasses on, glass of whisky in hand, mere purveyor to the chaos you were causing. You, who he noticed to be naturally shy, sipping away at some colorful drink the weeks before, standing actively on your toes as you excitedly whisper the answer to a question. He saw, too, how happy you got, jumping on your feet when your little band of three pulls ahead in the game. But what caught his attention was how good you are. How you immediately sat down when your team asks you to, how you willingly go for drinks at the bar, not five feet from where he sat, emanating warmth from excitement.

You were so goddamn willing, he had to adjust himself once or twice, pictures of your submission burnt into the crevices of his brain. So when he had the chance, he had to take it.

“How did’ya know so much about the sixties, sugar?” he asked as you squeezed into the seat beside him, barely managing to steal it from the crowded bar. When you looked at him, he swore he almost saw your eyes gloss over from shyness. You just had to be adorable.

 “Oh! Well… I spent a lot of time with my grandparents.” You look down, fiddling with your drink before chuckling. “I didn’t know we were getting so much attention.” He swore he almost felt his cock twitch in his pants. Already, you were being so good, he physically had to swallow down the images of you happily bent over his desk with the rest of his whisky, throat burning be damned.

He realized, quite easily, that if he wanted you, he was going to have to be creative about it. And if he really wanted you, he had to put the effort in showing you he could be trusted; that he’ll take care of you. So he smiles, a calm smirk accompanying his salt-and-pepper beard, the warm crinkles in his eyes as he stills himself. He takes a deep breath, and it becomes so easy.

The night ends with you pressed against the door of your apartment, panties pushed to the side as he breathes whiskey into your face while you chuckle nervously. “D’you want it, sugar? C’mon, I need some words…” He almost wished he could take a photo of your face the moment he spears you open with his aching cock, cunt already fucked out by his fingers during the feverish truck drive where you almost get him lost from hazy directions.

He teaches you your safe words that night. An analogy of stoplights– halting reds, questioning yellows, and bright green gos.

He constantly checks in, and all you tell him is to go, go, go.

–

He likes it when you call him sir, a remnant of his Southern manners. Your cheeks warm up whenever you say it. He noticed when he had begun to cup your face, asking you to tell him what you wanted.

Just you, sir. All you, please…

He’s so indulgent about it, so eager to give you the pleasure you so desperately wanted without saying anything. But sometimes, that primal urge to own you manifests itself, as well. He particularly enjoyed the act of overstimulation. Just the sight of you, cockdumb and broken, limbs trembling from the way he manipulated the pleasure from your body… how could he ever resist? It’s why he was so willing to split an apartment with you; one meant for your excursions and hedonistic urges; the house of desire itself with a king-sized bed and a hot tub to defile.

You were chaos and innocence all in one, sweet like honey and sudden like the weather. Incomprehensible, unique you. Simply put, he enjoyed you. And the fact that you belonged to him will never stop getting him hard just from the mere thought of it. He started thinking he finally understood what it meant to be enthralled by someone. When you open your mouth wide, tongue extended and waiting for any shred of him to swallow, when you lay on his chest post-coitus with the sated nature of a feral cat, when he sees your perfect lipstick, waiting to be ruined by kisses.

Of course he’s insatiable. He will always keep wanting more. Perhaps it was that insatiability that led to that storming night.

–

He should’ve noticed when he opened the door and you were looking out of the window, eerily quiet, with the weight of the world on your shoulders. He drops the keys on the dining table, crossing his way to you, hands wrapping around your waist as he kisses your exposed shoulder teasingly. 

“Let me take your mind off of it, darlin’,” he whispers, and you feign a giggle at the way his beard prickles your skin. “Had a tough day, didn’t ya?” You look to him as if you were about to confess something, say something and break your usual submissive silence. But you catch his eye and you melt further into his touch instead as you sigh softly.

“Just missed you a little too much, sir…”

It satisfies him. It feeds his ego. But just in case… “Give me a colour, pretty baby. S’alright…”

You gulp, feeling your fingers turn cold as you process your thoughts. With a sigh, you press a kiss to his jaw.

“Green, sir.”

The word barely leaves your lips before he’s kissing you, swallowing down your soft whimpers as his strong arms take you, carrying you to the bedroom with renewed urge and desire. Settling you down on fresh sheets, he peers over your pretty little sundress, your perfect little face, chuckling at the shyness washing over you in the low lamplight. He kisses you again, insatiable hands tearing open your dress as your breath hitches, He does not stop, pressing wanton kisses down your collarbone, your breast, your stomach, spreading your legs so he can settle right between them.

“Y’wanna tell me why you weren’t answering my calls, darlin’?”

You try not imagine the panic you must have caused him for that very reason. The fact that you left him a message at three in the afternoon, I need to see you, sir. Only to have your phone switched off. There is probably a barrage of messages and missed calls. But seeing you here, he finally seems to settle. He seems to ignore your creased forehead, your shaky breaths.

“My phone died… I- I’m sorry…” He shushes you, kissing you again and running his thumb over your painted lips with a smile. “I just missed you, sir.”

You notice his eyes darkening, hands traveling down the expanse of your stomach, embracing and caressing each curve before his right hand completely cups your wanton cunt, willing and warm to the touch. “I think I can do somethin’ about that.” He pushes your underwear aside, two fingers delving into the soft, sticky warmth of your desire, spreading you open just for him. He periodically asks for your status, a colour to confirm your consent. You see it as a way of him asking if he could do the things he was already doing.

Green for the fingers already spreading you open. Green to take off the dress he had already torn off. Green to mark up the neck that already bore the wetness of his saliva.

“How was trivia night last night, sugar? I couldn’t get out of work soon enough to catch you there…” You manage a soft chuckle, now embracing him with a breathy kiss. “Although, I believe I heard from Clark that you did well enough, no?”

Your soft giggles melt against the skin of his jaw, your shaky breaths stuttering as you hear the clink of his belt buckle and the shuffling of his jeans. “Good old nineties, sir,” you murmur. “Your playlist was sufficient enough of a reviewer to carry me through.” It’s his turn to chuckle, cupping your face and peering down at you as he affectionately pinches the apple of your cheek with a sigh.

“One more ‘old man’ quip out of you and you’ll be askin’ for a punishment, li’l girl.”

You manage a soft smile. You like it when he cares. You like him like this. But just as easily as it came, the softness soon disappears as he returns to working the clothes off of your body, looking over the way your skin is void of the markings he left the last time he had you. You try to comprehend the secrets between his furrowed brow, the mutterings you try to hear in the semi-darkness. He always had a way of keeping that same professional barrier between the two of you, a barrier that you never know where it truly stood. A barrier of multiple dimensions. A barrier that was the sole purpose why you never confessed you stopped dating ever since he came into your life.

You remember the time you almost did. You had called him one evening, dressed up in the same apartment, bottle of wine chilled, rose petals all over the sheets. You told him you wanted to see him. You didn’t expect the ease that came with his rebuttal. Can’t tonight, darlin’, I have a lady friend keepin’ me company. How ‘bout Friday? You pretend, as you find yourself doing more and more often. You tell him to have a nice evening. You drink an entire bottle of wine by yourself. You dispose of the rose petals and ensure you left no traces by morning.

Looking at him now, he still remains cool, professional, boundaries locked and loaded between your bodies even when he presses the bulbous tip of a vibrator directly over where you need him most, firing it up the moment you said green. He told you once he loved the way you squealed for him, that it makes his chest bubble with incomprehensible glee knowing he could drive such noises from you, that shy little vixen that knelt for him when he said the word and opened her mouth wide. Maybe that’s why he always enjoyed pushing you to your limits.

Maybe that’s what he wanted to do now.

And you had to admit, you were willing to let him try.

The vibration jostles through your flesh, shaking awake your tendons. The initial shock sent your legs flailing, spreading, and eventually welcoming the affection. “That’s it… let me in, baby…”

Your cries emanate as the shock of the first orgasm shakes through your completely naked body, brushing against the course fabric of his jeans, his small snicker leaving him before he could stop it. “‘Course you’re so easy, pretty lady.” You feel your cheeks warm up at his words, looking into his eyes as he raises a brow, as if waiting for you to give him his dues.

It’s when you return to yourself, blinking away the haze in your head as you tilt your head back. “Thank you, sir… oh, oh– thank you!” When you look back, you see him through the mist in your vision, see that slow, cocky smirk encompassing his features. He likes this. He likes the way you’re absolutely fucked out like this.

The buzzing stops, and you blink awake shakily up at him. He leans down to kiss you gently, sighing as you come down from your orgasmic bliss. “How are we feelin’, baby doll?”

You grin up at him. Green, green, green.

He looks down at you, with that shit-eating grin on your face that you always have when you’re brimming with excitement and ready to burst. He tries to read your eyes just as you grow shy, turning over to embrace the pillow you lay on. What should he do when the prettiest girl in the world says “green” so voraciously?

There was only one answer. He can only go, go, go.

–

Joel Miller rarely calls anything heaven. He rarely finds anything that is so divine that he can surrender so easily in worship. And if he does, it’s even rarer that he is driven by anything so much as to take divinity into his own hands. But with you… he swore he finally saw the face of God. And it was dangerous. It was dangerous because it had awakened an arcane starvation that almost harkens back to his own primordial longings.

You tell him green, but if he was capable of confession, if he was more vulnerable to you… he’d confess that he’d gone blind, his senses dulled and only drawn to one thing and one thing only: and it was to take and take from you.

That was why he fucks you wide open with his cock, your walls trembling with the first sign of overstimulation. He sees the first sign of your hesitation and he barely stops himself to look you in the eye to say your status. You barely manage to tell him green, with a tone of hesitation, and he immediately pummels his hardness into your aching cunt, embracing you in his tense arms, growling into your ear as you feel his lips sucking a brand new hickey at the very crook of your neck. 

If he was confessing, he would say all he saw was the red of his blood pumping through his brain. It is only a few seconds later that he finally hears that shy, trembling voice of yours, echoing like a hysterical cry that tears through his defences. It is the words you had never uttered in these moments before now.

“Red, red, red!”

Immediately, Joel flies apart from you like shrapnel, blinking his eyes open just in time to see your grief-stricken face, splotchy from tears as you curl up in the upper middle of the large bed. From here, he finally sees the aftermath of his mindless fucking. His fingertips marking your skin, lovebite blood red and raging just as you peer up at him with eyes lit up with an emotion he had never seen before. You had never stared at him with that much fear before.

He attempts to reach for you, only to be frozen in his tracks the moment you flinched further upwards against the mattress. His blood runs cold when he hears your words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir–”

Had he been that absolutely careless over you— precious, darling you that entrusted herself so fully to him? Had he been that selfish, so enthralled by the callings of his own flesh? This is the price he had to pay for tasting divinity— he just had to ruin you for it. He slowly recedes, heart thumping in his chest as he tucks himself back into his pants, keeping his hands visible for you, your watchful eyes never blinking away from you.

“It’s alright, darlin’. It’s alright. We’ve stopped.” Gently, he helps, carefully handing you a dressing robe to regain some form of second skin. He ascertains that his bare hands does not brush against you, not unless you ask him to. Not unless you wanted it. He did not deserve such a privilege, not after what he’s done. Not after how he broke your trust.

He shakes away the thoughts and self-doubt from the recesses of his brain. You do not need his remorse. What you needed was to be taken care of. What you needed was him to fulfill the role he had promised you from the very start of your… partnership. Whatever it was you had. The minutes pass in the silence. The apartment is silent, except for your shaky breaths as he waits for you to calm down.

“Sugar…” your bright doe eyes look to him, reddened slightly by tears before softening, your hands slowly moving to reach for him. He stops himself. “What do you want me to do, doll?”

You finally find the voice to speak again. “Just hold me… please.” Joel gently settles by your side, embracing you as you hide your face into his bare chest. With how close you press yourself to him, you feel the pounding of his chest. You feel your skin prickle, looking up into his eyes in soft, comfortable silence. “It’s like you couldn’t see me anymore when… when…”

He hears your breath hitch and he gently shushes you, carefully pressing kisses to the crown of your head. “Why did you apologize, sugar?”

It's difficult to comprehend feelings in an agreement that is supposedly devoid of them. It's difficult to reflect when you think you know every possibility when you say the truth and nothing but the truth. But you know, too, that you cannot solve the breaking of one’s trust, yours in this case, with the breaking of others’ trust. So you swallow, gather your thoughts.

“You’ve… you always made it feel like it’s my… my privilege to feel so good and… and…” you sniffle, burying your face against him once more as you sigh. “I feel guilty for… for having to—asking to—stop.” You feel his breath still, and you tug him closer out of guilt. It’s as if the motion gently shakes him awake and he embraces you, pressing careful kisses where he was able to.

“That was never my intention, darlin’...” He gently maneuvers you, just enough so you had to look into his eyes— those soft, warm eyes that looked at you the night you met in the bar. “I should be sorry, and I am. God, doll… we built this… us… we built it on the idea that we entrust each other with our… vulnerabilities, and that those vulnerabilities aren’t exploited.” He cups your face, the way he always does, but his touch his careful, the way one grasps precious. “You trusted me, sugar, and I’ve been reckless with my pretty girl. I’m so sorry.”

He barely finishes the last word before you’re kissing him, arms wrapping around him in comfortable silence as he cradles you, lets you indulge until you are the first to pull away. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?” he whispers, the prickle of his beard against your jaw enough to make you giggle. “How does a bath sound?” You manage a small nod, winding down from the events of the evening as he cradles you, gently bringing you to the bathroom and seating you on the nearest counter as he leans over to prepare the warm bath, head turned away from you with a sigh.

The confession lays heavy on your lips. The confession that you’re falling for him, eyes closed, no turning back. You’re in love with him, but you think in telling him, you risk losing this… having him in the soft silences where you can be vulnerable for him and only for him. You tell him, and you picture the nights alone, guarding yourself and knowing happiness shall not exist anymore for you. Not in this lifetime.

“Do you want me to give you some privacy?”

You look to him in silence before taking a deep breath, shaking your head before biting your lip. “Stay with me,” you whisper, looking down at your feet as he settles before you. “Please don’t go too far from me.”

It’s how the two of you end up, with you on his lap, the warm water encompassing the two of you as  gently scrubs through your back with slow, careful circles. “Promise me something,” he says, breaking the silence as he carefully pulls you closer to him. “Never ever think you cannot say no to me ever again.” Your head rears to look into his eyes and he couldn’t help but chuckle, kissing your cheek lovingly. “I’d rather have your scorn than seein’ you afraid of me, darlin’.”

You promise him. As if you would deprive him of anything ever again. As if you could bear the way you saw his heart break from your reaction earlier that evening. As if you could bear the sight of him pulling away from you ever again. If it meant keeping him this close to you for some time more—be it a day, another evening, another month, another year—you’d take everything you can.

The both of you make up shortly thereafter. Joel is half-surprised to see you crawling on top of him, facing him as you ask him. He groans at the feel of your nails digging down into the back of his neck as you fuck yourself on him. He lets you take what you want. As if he can deprive you of anything, be it affection or debauchery. He takes you by your word when you ask him to take you to bed— and he makes love to you in the darkness.

You are his God and all the Saints in the body of one mortal. Daisies and thunderstorms and metamorphoses combined. He looks for you in the other people he meets. But they do not have your shyness, your bright smile, nor the complete surrender you offer so willingly to him. He wonders, sometimes, in the darkness, if he will ever find it within himself to cross the boundaries he himself had built. So he tells you he loves you in other ways. When he cradles your face, when he wipes you clean post-coitus, showering your skin with kisses. When he embraces you in his arms when you drift to sleep with a wide, warm smile of peace etched on your face. He whispers it, sometimes, when he kisses your forehead before he leaves, dressed in his clothes from last night.

He’ll rather have you like this. If, by some twist of fate, he loses the presence of your divinity, then he shall forever return to this moment— you on your hands and knees with your back arching into his touch, your warm breath, your trembling breast. Perhaps an eternity, locked together this way, is the closest to heaven he will ever come across. And should he face damnation, flailed and torn apart by hail at the second circle of hell, he shall regret nothing. Should he be offered salvation in exchange of forgetting you, he shall spit at the face of God with a smile. He’d tell Him he’ll do it all over again.

---

A/N: this is the part where i say sorry for letting my current reads and whatnot influence what i'm writing. but this is also your sign to read the divine comedy if you want to :'DDD thank you so so so much for reading!!

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: gn!reader; modern AU; pining

Thinking of a messy, “are they or aren’t they?” type of friendship with Sanji.

Sanji doesn’t need to ask what your coffee order is anymore—he shows up at your desk with your latte as soon as you sit down in the morning. You brought lunch to work but you ask if he wants to go out and get something anyway; you trade off who drives, taking the opportunity to play curated playlists for each other that serve as the soundtrack to your conversations. You buy this time, curry from the hole-in-the wall shop where he knows the owner, telling him it’s the least you can do for the daily coffees. You offer each other tastes of what you ordered, exchanging bites over the cramped folding table in front of the restaurant.

You call him and tell him that you’re home safe when you go out, per his request—he’s the first person you tell when you’re out drinking, just in case something happens. He’s the first to offer to come pick you up when you seem like you shouldn’t be driving home—walks you to your door with an arm around your waist, makes sure you have a bottle of water to sip on while he scrounges around in your fridge for something that will soak up the alcohol. Sanji listens to you prattle on about the band you saw and complain about how expensive liquor is while he makes you the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had, and he strokes your hair when you fall asleep on his lap, lets himself out after a while and locks up with the key you gave him for emergencies.

You find yourself texting him just to talk—giving thorough reviews of whatever movie you’re watching alone, feeding him snippets of gossip when you’re out at brunch. In turn, he texts you moment-to-moment reactions during the new episode of a show you both watch, eventually asking if you want to come over and watch it with him. You find yourself dropping everything to say yes every time. It’s more fun to watch with someone else, you tell yourself, that’s all it is—even though you declined your friend’s invitation to come over and watch the very same show just a little while ago.

And sometimes—more often than you would ever admit—those silly texts about movies and what you had for dinner turn to phone calls about your parents, your anxieties, your dreams. Sometimes they last until bedtime, sometimes your earbuds die before ever you hang up, sometimes one of you falls asleep and the other listens to quiet breaths on the other end of the line. It feels like home.

Strangers mistake you for a couple with alarming regularity—you each throw up your hands and laugh nervously, quickly denying anything but friendship to the well-meaning waiter at the bistro where you always meet for drinks, or the smiling purveyor of a booth at the farmer’s market where Sanji helps you shop for the week. Your friends and co-workers snicker and ask when you’re going to give up and just go out already, and you give the same song and dance like always—you’re just good friends, you don’t like each other that way, the thought had never even crossed your minds.

But it had, in ways you refused to acknowledge. It was in the way Sanji’s stomach churned when you’d tell him about a date you’d gone on the night before. It was in the crushing feeling in your chest when he’d talk about the pretty woman at the bar that gave him her number. It was in the way relationships never seemed to work out for either of you, always secretly holding strangers to standards they’d never meet, to expectations they’d never fulfill. But you’d never admit it, never try to say it, even to yourselves, with your whole heart.

No, you’d never let yourselves believe that there could be love there in the lingering glances during pointless work meetings, in the warmth of memorized birthdays and personal anniversaries (it would be three years tomorrow that he got that new-used car, and you already had a cake ready). There could be love there, in the corners where fear couldn’t settle—fear that he would laugh at you, fear that you would reject him, fear that all you’d ever have is this and saying one wrong thing could bring it all crashing down. There could be love there, in the silence of a car ride home, sitting in traffic and watching the first glowing embers of the sun beginning to set, wondering if your hand on his thigh or his fingers brushing your forearm would be crossing a line.

There could be love there, if you’d let it in.

[lionleonora]

Reddie Fics for the Despairing It: Chapter Two Enjoyer

part of my unnamed "recommending non-classic fics for dead fandoms" series! this is a list of less well-known fics in the ITCH2 fandom, centered around reddie fics. these are all fics that i am passionate about, but you won't find them on the first three pages of ao3. if you're ready for something other than the classics, this is the list for you! organized in order of hits from least to most.

Revivified Death by ezlebe - something about me is that i love vampire fics, and vampire eddie. this features vampire eddie AND vampire richie—a treat! it's rated E, has some fun worldbuilding, and way fewer hits than i would expect (only 3,300!). some mentions of blood, but no crazy gore.

inertia and other properties of matter by skeilig - a “it’s always sunny in philadelphia” au, but not necessary at all to be familiar with the show! (i sure ain’t!) cool and seamless au worldbuilding, and some good mutual pining. plus, the gang is together and remembers each other! rated E.

your lips feel retro by kaspbrak_kid - the only T fic on here, but also teeth-achingly sweet! *stefon voice* this fic has everything—fake relationship, richie speaking at length about how much he loves eddie, multiple kiss scenes...plus some self-actualization + confidence boosts for eddie as he goes to his high school reunion!

push you out (pull you back in) by Anonymous - short, sweet, and sexy little one-shot! i don't usually go for established relationships, but i DO go for established relationships where each person has new and hidden depths of horniness that they have yet to reveal. enter this fic! rated E, and if you want more by this author, i'm preeeety sure i know who they are, but of course i'm just speculating.

the study of pathology by crescentluce - this is a sequel to crescentluce's fandom classic, the anatomy of a joke. this sequel is fantastic though! not as many people have read it, but it's absolutely worth it. told from eddie's perspective as he very quickly falls very hard in love with richie (though they've been dating for like, what. 30 minutes?). incredibly heartwarming and also super funny.

give a shape to this ache I have for you by youabird (nevulon) - i have a few all-time favorite fics that span multiple fandoms - this is one. this is a fic that i would take with me on a desert island. if this is the last reddie fic i could ever reread, it would be this one. featuring an eddie who is deeply unaware of his desires and desperately in love with richie. please please read this.

Health Improvement Planning for Dummies by glorious_spoon - a multi-chapter fic with a comparatively low hit count. dumbass for dumbass relationship, but also really hot. rated E!

hysteria when you're near by tempestbreak - this fic is fucking crazy, and i mean that in the best way. sex pollen is not common in this fandom (understandably - the worldbuilding is difficult) but this fic does it seamlessly and to great effect. an E-rated oneshot. this will literally change you.

Do you need anybody? by remusjohn - i am of the firm opinion that this should be a fandom classic. it's not quite there yet, but getting there! this is one of the first fandom fics i truly fell in love with, and also one of the only fics i've ever followed as it was posted! one of my favorite tropes is mutual pining WHILE they're having sex, and boy does this fic deliver. rated E. beautiful and fantastic.

Bonus: Author Recommendations!

organized in order of most to least fics written in fandom!

skeilig has a solid number of fics and a really interesting repertoire of AUs! as a purveyor of niche aus (REFERENCE TO MY BLOG??) i am very fond of the way they reimagine richie and eddie in a grounded, three-dimensional way.

glorious_spoon technically has fewer fics than skeilig, but they have a bunch more written anonymously for a kinkmeme event (i believe. something of that nature!). they write fantastically kinky, funny, and sweet stuff. if you're looking for something quick and satisfying (ayyyy) look through their library!

ezlebe is another in the ranks of "cool niche au authors." if you like supernatural creature reddie, or even just normal reddie, definitely look through their stuff! they have a unique voice and should be way more famous in the fandom imo.

remusjohn has the fewest amount of works in this list, but every one of them hits like a goddamn truck. they've written classics, they've written unknown fics—they've done it all! definitely check out their stuff for emotional smut and mutual pining!

thanks for sticking around this long! reddie is quite dead, but it will always be very close to my heart. reddie matters to me. i'm glad it and its writers matter to you too!

[eclipsedzs]

𝗣𝘂𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗗𝗼𝗴

𝗘𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦𝗘𝗗 ▰▰▰▱▱▱ Volume: James Potter

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

Genre: ✓

Paring(s): James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: James likes a girl, who shows no interest in him. Though it isn’t new, and he’s still like a puppy in love.

Disclaimer(s): Cursing

JAMES POTTER was completely smitten with a girl who, to his dismay, showed not the slightest hint of reciprocating his affection. Oh, the irony!

Like an eager puppy, he trailed her relentlessly, day after day, his eyes brimming with adoration and a sparkle that only intensified upon catching a glimpse of her.

His unwavering devotion knew no bounds as he gladly shouldered the weight of her burdens, eager to anticipate her every need.

Sulking in the Great Hall, James Potter appeared like a dejected puppy, arms defiantly crossed. His hazel eyes, still heavy with sleep, reflected both weariness and an undeniable yearning. Breakfast unfolded before him, accompanied by his loyal companions: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew.

Despite the jovial atmosphere, James's gaze ceaselessly wandered the expanse of the grand hall, desperately seeking a familiar figure that effortlessly ignited his heart. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, his emotions riding a rollercoaster of anticipation and hope.

"Lost in his infatuation," Sirius remarked playfully, his tongue clicking with mischievous delight. Remus suppressed a chuckle, huddling closer to his book as he enjoyed the scene unfolding before him.

Amidst James's scowl, a playful glint shone in his eyes, perpetually scanning the surroundings in eager anticipation. Sirius, always the purveyor of mischief, dramatically gasped, his own grey eyes widening mischievously. "Look, Prongs, your beloved master has arrived," he teased, unable to resist poking fun at James's infatuation.

Following Sirius's pointed finger, James's head swiftly turned, and his heart leaped within his chest as he beheld the girl who trudged wearily into view. Without a moment's hesitation, he sprang to his feet, propelled by an overwhelming desire to be near her.

Amidst the light-hearted banter, Remus couldn't help but snicker, gently setting his book aside. "He's utterly lost without her," he chuckled, fully aware of the profound connection that had ensnared James's heart.

James matched his stride with hers, effortlessly catching up to the object of his affection. He gazed upon her with adoration, his eyes caressing every feature, completely unfazed by the scowl she aimed his way.

"Potter," she spat out his name with a sharpness akin to acid. Undeterred, James shook his head, a smitten smile playing on his lips as he remained steadfast in his adoring gaze, even if it meant unintentionally stumbling into a sulking first-year.

"Oops, sorry there," James muttered, slightly flustered but unable to tear his eyes away from the captivating girl before him. It was as if the whole world could crumble around him, but he would remain blissfully lost in her presence.

Ever since they were eleven, James had been undeniably smitten with her, their shared journey now reaching the age of sixteen. His body instinctively gravitated towards hers, fighting the urge to intertwine their fingers and unleash the pent-up longing within his heart.

"Sorry," she offered a gentle apology to the first-year James had accidentally collided with, her tone remarkably softer and distinctly different from the harshness she reserved for him.

The contrasting sweetness of her voice panged within James, for he yearned to be the recipient of such tenderness. Nonetheless, he took hold of the strap of her bag, determined to relieve her of any burden in his presence. After all, she should never have to carry her own belongings when James was around.

Unyielding, she attempted to reclaim her bag, urging him to return it with a tone slightly softer, a flicker of vulnerability hidden beneath her scowl. “Give it back James, Don’t’ need you carin’ it for me.” She spoke

Yet, James remained unfazed, his smile unwavering, his lips slightly jutting out in an endearing manner. With wide, puppy-like eyes fixed upon her, he replied, "S’fine, love," his voice laced with unspoken affection and a sincere desire to protect and care for her.

James guided her towards the spot where he and his friends were settled, his subtle gestures silently coaxing her to take the seat beside him.

However, she chose to sit next to Remus instead, offering him a soft smile that tugged at James's heart with a pang of jealousy. "Hey, Remus," she greeted the brown-eyed boy warmly, her voice dripping with genuine affection.

Sirius, ever the keen observer, raised an eyebrow mischievously, keenly aware of the subtle changes in James's demeanor.

He couldn't help but notice the tightness in James's clenched jaw and the transformation of his once tender, loving eyes into a steely gaze whenever his attention shifted to the pair.

"Now, now, let's not go around killing poor Moony here," Sirius playfully teased, delivering a playful smack to James's shoulder.

Wearing an awkward smile, she turned her attention to Peter, who had a piece of bacon dangling halfway into his mouth.

"So, Peter, how's Potions been treating you? Heard you had a little mishap with that third-year and ended up exploding your cauldron," she playfully taunted, her eyes flickering mischievously toward the wide-eyed boy.

James couldn't help but emit an exasperated huff, stabbing his fork into his pancakes with more force than necessary. "Oh, look, the puppy's getting jealous," Sirius whispered with a mischievous grin, promptly earning a smack on the back of his head from Remus and a piercing scowl from James.

James and Y/N strolled through the dimly lit halls, the soft glow of the floating candles casting an ethereal ambiance around them.

"I didn't know you were a prefect," she murmured, breaking the silence that weighed heavy on their surroundings. She couldn't bear the quietness, nor the intensity of James's lovesick gaze fixed upon her.

James pressed his lips together, concealing a secret smile that threatened to surface. Finally, she was talking to him.

However, he decided to keep to himself the truth that he had worked diligently, studying hard and earning excellent marks on his tests, all in the hopes of becoming a prefect alongside her.

He had overheard her desire to be a prefect last year, and he wanted nothing more than to share that experience with her.

"Yeah, it was a surprise owl one night, and just like that, I became a prefect without even trying," he replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Yet, a wince flashed across his face immediately after the words left his lips. He had come across too cocky, and it stung him deeply. In reality, he had indeed tried, putting in genuine effort to become a prefect alongside her.

He had gone to great lengths, even attempting to bribe the head prefects to assign him and her to patrol together, time and time again.

She couldn't help but cringe slightly, inwardly berating herself as she nodded in response. She desperately tried to avert her gaze from his face, fighting the urge to let her eyes roam freely.

She resisted the temptation to study every detail, from his captivating hazel eyes down to the bridge of his nose adorned with a sprinkle of freckles that peeked out beneath his round glasses.

She admired the way his dark brown curls framed his face and the mischievous smirk that always seemed to grace his lips.

Frustrated with her own inability to resist these observations, she let out a quiet huff, drawing a questioning look from James. "You know, you don't have to carry that," she pointed out, tilting her head slightly in reference to her bag that he still held onto dutifully.

Her scowl masked a hint of internal turmoil, as she grappled with her conflicting emotions

James shrugged, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He readjusted the strap of her bag, feeling a slight ache in his shoulder from carrying it almost the entire day, during those moments when he insisted on accompanying her and shadowing her like a devoted puppy.

"S’fine," he replied with a smirk, his eyes darting between her eyes and her lips. She attempted to dismiss the intensity of his expression, trying to ignore the subtle way his tongue peeked out, grazing his lips.

She swallowed nervously, her mind filled with conflicting emotions. She was supposed to despise this guy, so why did she find herself being drawn to him in this inexplicable way?

James couldn't help but smirk mischievously, raising an intrigued eyebrow in response to her questioning gaze. As they continued walking through the halls, she made a conscious effort to keep her face averted, hoping to conceal the faint flush that had spread across her cheeks.

Unbeknownst to her, James noticed everything.

He possessed an uncanny ability to pick up on the tiniest of details—whether it was a new haircut, a solitary pimple on her face, a subtle change in her eyes, or even the slight shift of her body language.

His perceptive nature and unwavering attentiveness allowed him to observe and appreciate every nuance that made her uniquely her.

It was as if he held an unwritten catalog of her every feature, storing away the intricacies that painted the portrait of the person he held a deep affection for.

She cleared her throat, discreetly running her hand down the sides of her body to adjust her oversized sweater. James couldn't help but smile, stealing a glance at her before redirecting his gaze forward.

He couldn't help but yearn for the day when she would wear his clothes, a tangible symbol of their connection, instead of the worn sweater she had been sporting since returning from Christmas break. (Not wearing it over and over of course)

Yes, he was that attuned to her preferences and personal history.

Drawing upon his courage, James subtly shifted his body closer to hers, relishing in the delicate brushes of their hands and shoulders.

Each fleeting contact sent a wave of blissful anticipation coursing through his veins, as if their proximity held a secret language of its own.

Suppressing a smile, she allowed their bodies to remain in close proximity for the time being. "So, how were your classes?" she asked softly, her aversion to small talk making it difficult for her to initiate conversations.

Inwardly, she hoped James would steer the conversation towards a more engaging topic.

James couldn't help but smile as they rounded the corner, feeling a surge of warmth and excitement within him. If he could go back in time and tell his first-year self that he would eventually have the privilege of brushing hands with and engaging in conversation with the girl he envisioned spending his entire life with, his younger self would have been absolutely beside himself.

"Just got detention from dear old Minnie," James sighed dramatically, running a hand through his tousled curls. He glanced at her, a playful glint in his eyes. "But don't worry, she'll come around eventually," he added with a wink, subtly hinting at his growing affection for her.

"I'm sure she will," Y/N chuckled, her laughter causing James's heart to flutter. He observed her closely, his eyes filled with adoration as he watched her nose scrunch up and her eyes crinkle with joy.

It was moments like these that he treasured, where he could witness her genuine happiness and feel his own soul light up in response.

Y/N playfully raised an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So, did your little gang get detention with you?" she asked, a hint of mischief lacing her words. She was, of course, referring to Remus, Sirius, and Peter, who were often inseparable from James.

James chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, they managed to escape Minnie's wrath this time," he replied, a touch of admiration in his voice. "Those three have a knack for slipping through the cracks. But I guess that's what makes them my partners in mischief," he added with a grin.

Y/N's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Partners in mischief, huh? Sounds like quite the dynamic trio," she remarked, playfully nudging James's arm. The camaraderie between James and his friends was undeniable, and Y/N couldn't help but find it endearing.

Waking up in the arms of the person she had sworn to hate since their first year at Hogwarts was a surreal experience for Y/N. If someone had told her younger self about this, she would have scoffed and dismissed it as sheer madness.

But the memories of the previous night came rushing back to her, flooding her mind with a mixture of surprise and warmth.

She recalled her sleep-addled self murmuring incoherently as James guided her into the Common Room, his concern and adoration evident in his every action. He had insisted on watching over her so she could rest peacefully.

In her drowsy state, Y/N had found herself inexplicably yearning for the presence of the lovesick boy, almost pleading for him to cuddle with her. And, to her astonishment, he had obliged, albeit hesitantly, careful not to overstep any boundaries.

And that was how she found herself in this predicament—the comfort of her head nestled against James's chest, her ears attuned to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the gentle sound of his breath.

Their legs were entangled, fitting together like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces—something James probably imagined as well.

Y/N couldn't help but notice his hand tracing delicate patterns on her slightly exposed skin, his subconscious gestures revealing a tenderness he only wished to also do in his out of dream state.

Y/N let out a soft huff of air, attempting to wiggle free from James's firm yet gentle hold. But he mumbled unintelligibly, his voice gravelly with sleep, as he tugged her closer, not willing to let her go. "Stay," he murmured, his voice laced with a sleepy plea.

Her cheeks flushed with warmth, a combination of embarrassment and a fluttering feeling in her chest. She couldn't deny the allure of being held in James's embrace, even if it went against the walls she had built around her heart.

"James," she whispered, her voice barely audible, into the fabric of his chest as he pulled her closer. The two of them lay intertwined on the sofa in the common room, the early morning silence enveloping them like a comforting blanket.

She silently thanked Merlin that no one had ventured downstairs yet, no one would see the boy who loved the girl who denied him every chance he took.

Her words hung in the air, a gentle plea for him to acknowledge her presence, to understand the mix of emotions swirling inside her.

His grip on her hip tightened slightly, his touch conveying a mixture of possessiveness and a sleepy reluctance to let her go. He grumbled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin, as if he were caught between the realms of consciousness and dreams.

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat at his response, her mind swirling with a myriad of thoughts and emotions. The closeness between them felt both exhilarating and unnerving, as if they were teetering on the edge of something significant.

"James," she whispered once more, her voice a tender plea laced with vulnerability. The single word carried the weight of unspoken sentiments, expressing a desire for understanding and connection.

His grip on her hip loosened slightly, and his sleepy eyes fluttered open, meeting her gaze with a mix of confusion and tenderness.

In that fleeting moment, the world around them seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them in their shared space of intimacy.

"Hi," James greeted with a charming and slightly goofy smile, his eyes brimming with an overwhelming amount of love and affection. The intensity of his gaze caused her to avert her eyes momentarily, feeling a mix of shyness and warmth wash over her.

Seizing the opportunity, James gently tugged her closer, his touch guiding her until their bodies aligned, chest to chest. The sensation of their hearts beating in unison added a layer of intimacy.

"Hi," she whispered back, her voice barely audible, her own smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, beating in synchrony with the rapid pace of her thoughts. It was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking to be in this moment with him.

As she nestled her head under his chin, she felt a mix of vulnerability and comfort wash over her.

It was to quick for her heart, sure this boy had been pinning over her like a lovesick puppy for almost more than five years.

And sure she had felt her emotions reciprocating his a year ago, but she was scared. Scared that once he got her he would leave her.

The fear that had held her back for so long still lingered, but in this embrace, she allowed herself to let go, to bask in the warmth of his presence. Ignoring his surprised sound, she felt a sense of contentment settle deep within her as they breathed in unison.

"I love you," James whispered, his words hanging in the air as he tightened his arms around her, seeking to express the depth of his emotions.

For five long years, he had professed his love, and she had doubted him. But in that moment, as her own voice trembled with vulnerability, she found the courage to say the words she had never thought she would utter.

The weight of the admission settled between them, forging a connection that felt both fragile and unbreakable.

"I love you too," she whispered back, her voice barely audible, as if testing the reality of her own feelings.

His breath caught in his throat, a mix of surprise and joy washing over him. His grip on her tightened, his breath quivering with a delighted giggle. Though she couldn't see it, the love-struck smile played upon his lips, a reflection of his overflowing happiness.

"Ah, you said it back!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and elation. The moment brimmed with a lightness, and even in the darkness, their shared laughter filled the space.

"Hey now, Potter, don't get too comfortable," she teased playfully, her words a playful reminder that their journey had just begun.

James sat up, gently pulling her with him, keeping her nestled against his chest. His eyes sparkled with a mix of adoration and excitement as he showered her face with a cascade of affectionate kisses.

Each tender touch spoke volumes of his love, starting from her neck and traveling up to her jawline, then caressing her cheeks, nose, and finally landing on her forehead.

As he pulled back slightly, his gaze locked onto hers, his eyes silently conveying his unspoken desire. His glance lingered on her lips, a subtle yet unmistakable invitation awaiting her response.

A soft nod from her granted him permission, and with that, their lips finally met in a long-awaited kiss.

A smile played on James's face as he poured his heart into that single moment, capturing all the lovesick smiles, stolen glances, and longing that had filled their five-year journey.

It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a convergence of emotions and desires unleashed with a passion that could no longer be contained.

In that tender embrace, time seemed to stand still as their lips danced in perfect harmony. It was a kiss that marked the beginning of a new chapter, a declaration of their shared love, and a promise of a future filled with unending affection and devotion.

And so they fell back asleep, wrapped in each other's loving embrace, blissfully unaware of the curious eyes that observed their intertwined figures and the hushed murmurs of gossiping voices.

News of their newfound connection spread like wildfire throughout the school, capturing the attention and excitement of their peers. Even the teachers couldn't resist being swept up in the joyous atmosphere, some having secretly placed bets on whether they would finally become a couple.

As whispers of their relationship echoed through the corridors, it was a day of celebration and triumph for all who had rooted for their love to bloom.

In that peaceful slumber, oblivious to the world around them, James and Y/N basked in the warmth of their shared affection, ready to face the challenges and adventures that awaited them as a united couple.

It was a blissful day, marking the beginning of a love story that would be cherished for years to come.

[tiannasfanfic]

Eddie’s Secret Stash

Eddie Munson x Reader (Smut)

| Eddie & Steddie Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: When your laptop goes on the fritz, using your boyfriend's computer leads you to finding his porn collection in an unexpected way.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Author Note: Afab Reader, they/them pronouns (if any). Modern AU. Smutty but not full smut.

CW: Porn watching; description of porn video (ffm threesome, oral [f and m recieving], p n v sex).

Word Count: 1,628

It all started out with an innocent text to your boyfriend.

Hey babe, my laptop crashed again and I really want to get this story finished. Can I hop on your computer really quick?

Even though Eddie was at work, it didn’t take long for him to text you back.

You don’t ever need to ask me that, sweetheart, feel free to hop on whenever you need to.

Sweet! Thanks baby!

You went to his desk, sat down, and woke up his computer.

After it booted up, you had to text him again.

I kinda need the pin code to unlock it.

Every time you had used his computer before, he was home and it was already unlocked, so you just jumped on and did what you needed to do. Up until now, you didn’t even know he had a pin code on it.

Oh shit! Sorry sweetheart, I forgot. It’s the month and day of your birthday.

That made you melt into a puddle right there at the desk.

Aww, trying to score some brownie points with me?

Maybe…Is it working?

You’ll just have to wait until you get home to find out. ;)

Score!!!

Despite the fact you had been together for a while now, Eddie always acted like a horny teenager whenever you made allusions to having sex with him. And you were just as bad when he did it, even blushing a bit now at his eagerness, so you couldn’t really tease him about it.

You set your phone aside and typed the PIN number into his computer.

As a little turning wheel appeared on the center of the screen to show it was thinking about signing in, you got three texts from Eddie in rapid succession. He only did that when something was urgent or he was excited about something, so you looked at your phone Lock Screen to see what he said.

Wait!

Don’t sign onto my computer yet!

I need to get home first!

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the computer screen change as it finally signed you in and you glanced up from your phone to it.

And then you took a much longer glance.

On the monitor in front of you, paused in mid scene, was the fairly zoomed in image of a hard cock disappearing into the mouth of a woman wearing dark lipstick.

You blinked a few times and stared at the screen for a moment.

As a frequent purveyor of porn yourself, you weren’t upset by what you saw on your boyfriend’s screen. But surprise porn was like surprise alcohol in a drink when you were expecting soda or surprise weed when you were expecting a hand rolled cigarette. It’s always a bit shocking and it takes a moment to recover from. When you did, the corners of your mouth to curve upward in a playful grin.

Now with your original train of thought gone, you were in a playful mood. Your story could wait awhile. The deadline for it wasn’t until two weeks away anyway, you had just wanted to get the first draft done.

Settling back in Eddie’s computer chair, you clicked the space bar to unpause the video.

In this time period, two more texts came in from Eddie. You glanced at your Lock Screen again without opening them.

Sweetheart?

Y/N? Baby??

Eddie seemed uncharacteristically worried, which was a little bit confusing. The two of you had talked about watching porn before, so he should know it wouldn’t bother you. You shrugged and set your phone down, distracted by what was going on in the video.

It was a well-done amateur recording of a two girl, one guy threesome. As the one girl was blowing the guy, she was sitting on the other girls face. The scene stayed like this for just long enough to let you take everything in before the guy was pulling his cock from the girls mouth and then pushing her down so the two girls were in a sixty-nine.

You bit your lip, watching with rapt attention as the guy hopped down from where he had been standing on the bed to position himself behind the girl on top. He then grasped the base of his shaft with one hand, angling it so the girl on the bottom could start sucking on the head. It was a messy angle, soon her lips and cheeks were glistening with saliva from his thrusts into her mouth.

A small warmth began pooling between your legs as you watched the guy pull his cock out of her mouth, angle himself upwards and then sink deep into the cunt of the girl on top.

You had to give it to your boyfriend. He had good taste.

Since you had been striking out lately with your usual porn sites, you began to get curious where Eddie usually found his. You paused the video and minimized the window to find out.

Rather than a website, you were greeted by the file browser on the computer system itself, opened to a folder that was filled with porn. And it was by no means a small collection, it looked like he’d been working on this for years. There were dozens of sub folders and sub sub folders dedicated to specific acts and specific porn stars. Most of the videos were unsorted though, the majority of the files just dumped directly into this main porn folder.

Eddie had sent a few more texts by now, which you had ignored in favor of opening a different video that caught your eye. When it was clear those hadn’t gotten your attention, he was soon calling you instead.

“Edward James Munson!” you said when you answered your phone, making your voice sound stern.

“Sweetheart, I promise, it’s not what it looks like!”

“Really?” you said. “Because what it looks like is that you’ve been holding out on me!”

“I honestly wasn- wait, what?” he said, going from pleading to confused in two seconds.

“Seriously!” you said, exaggerating the tone so it was clearly playful. “You have an impressive collection like this and you don’t even think to share?” You clicked your tongue at him in an admonishing way. “I’m hurt. Truly, I’m hurt.”

There was a long pause from Eddie’s end of the phone.

“I’m…sorry?” he said slowly, nerves and hesitation in his voice, like this was an entirely new situation he found himself. “I…didn’t realize…you’d be interested in…it.”

“Seriously?” you dropped the playful act, now confused yourself. “We’ve talked about our favorite porn stars before, in depth discussions even, and you didn’t think I’d be interested?”

“Hey!” Eddie protested. “In my defense, do you know how many people will say they are fine with porn then freak out if they catch you watching it?”

Now that you thought about it, he had a point. Even you had that issue a few times in the past, either because you watched porn in general or because of what kind you watched.

“All right, fair point,” you said, then switched back to that playfully stern voice. “But that still doesn’t make it okay, mister.”

Now that Eddie knew how you really felt about the whole thing, his tone changed to a playfully apologetic one.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he said, then his tone dropped lower. “Let me make it up to you, sweetheart.”

His voice sent pleasurable tingles down your spine.

“And how do you propose you’ll do that?” you said.

While you weren’t really paying too close of attention to the video you selected, focusing on the timber change of your man’s voice instead, what you did pay attention to had you rubbing your thighs together slightly. This one was definitely right up your ally.

“In any way you want me too, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a soft growl that was nearly a purr. “Anything you want me to do to you, I’ll do it with pleasure.”

Being a metal singer, and a damn good one at that, Eddie could do things with his voice outside of music that you previously wouldn’t have thought possible. While you were already getting quite worked up easily enough on your own, he knew just the right inflection to use on each word to make you clench around nothing.

And it also made all rational thought fly from your brain.

You swiveled your gaze up to the ceiling, distracting yourself just enough to pull your brain back from the haze Eddie’s voice was making your brain slip into.

“Gosh, I just don’t know,” you said, tapping your chin with one finger even though Eddie couldn’t see it. “Oh! I know! I could browse through these videos I found and see if those give me any ideas!”

From the other end of the phone, you heard Eddie clear his throat a couple of times. Clearly the idea of you watching porn on his computer derailed his brain a little bit.

“T-That is a good idea,” he said, and you could tell by his voice that you just made him blush, among other things.

“You’re off in about an hour, right?” you asked, and when he made a sound of confirmation, you continued. “I’m sure I will have something fun in mind by then.”

Since it was clear his brain wouldn’t get back on track if the phone call continued, you quickly let him go so he could finish out his workday.

As you settled back into his chair, watching the video, an evil grin came to your face.

If you knew Eddie as well as you were sure you did, this next hour was going to be the longest hour of his life.

Eddie Munson Taglist: @eddie-swhore @bmunson86 @tayhar811

[eretzyisrael]

by Richard Goldberg

Anti-Semitism is spreading in K–12 school districts. Even in primary and secondary education, Jews are often viewed as privileged whites and oppressors, with Israel branded as an egregious example of “settler colonialism” and oppression of “indigenous people.” “Liberated ethnic studies” curricula, like the one mandated by California, have created a distinct variant of critical theory aimed at Jews for being Zionist colonial oppressors.

Teachers’ unions are the leading purveyors of this approach. Two years ago, the United Educators of San Francisco adopted a resolution calling for a boycott of Israel. The Chicago Teachers Union instigated pro-Hamas demonstrations in the Windy City after October 7. The union persuaded Chicago mayor Brandon Johnson (a former CTU lobbyist) to condemn Israel in the city council, and it organized a student and faculty “walkout” to show solidarity with Hamas—a city-authorized event that left Jewish students and teachers feeling intimidated. In suburban Seattle, kids as young as seven were recently encouraged to condemn Israel and join in anti-Semitic chants. Oakland Unified School District faces a federal investigation after 30 Jewish families removed their kids from school due to rampant anti-Semitism. And at a high school in New York City, hundreds of students hunted down a female teacher they saw on social media holding a sign supporting Israel.

Marxist ideology is the primary culprit influencing this mind-set, but not the only one. Qatar, a tiny Persian Gulf country that supports Hamas, is funding anti-Semitic “scholarship” not only in American universities but also in K–12 schools. Qatar Foundation International gave $1 million to the New York City Department of Education between 2019 and 2022 for a program featuring a map of the Middle East that erases the Jewish state. The same story played out at a public charter school in Irving, Texas. What other districts in the country might be taking money directly or indirectly from a chief Hamas sponsor? Brown University’s Choices Program, used by more than 1 million high school students nationwide, exhibits a clear anti-Israel bias. According to Brown, the Qataris “purchased and distributed a selection of existing Choices curriculum units to 75 teachers whose districts didn’t have funding to buy them.”

Tools to fight back, however, are available. Governors and state legislatures can begin by blocking “ethnic studies” from the K–12 curriculum and by imposing new teacher-certification requirements. To curb foreign meddling, states should ban school funding or in-kind donations from entities connected with countries that harbor U.S.-designated terrorist organizations. School districts and state boards of education should use the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s working definition of anti-Semitism to root out conduct meeting its standard. Several groups sued the Santa Ana, California, school district in state court for failing to notify parents before approving ethnic studies courses that contain anti-Jewish bias and for harassing Jewish parents at school board meetings.

At the federal level, parents could file formal complaints with the Department of Education for discrimination under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act. Such complaints are increasingly common against colleges and universities, but any school that receives federal funding must comply with Title VI. The House Committee on Education and the Workforce should consider holding a hearing on anti-Semitism in K–12 schools, putting the national spotlight on anti-Jewish administrators and school board leaders.

Local, state, and federal officials have played meaningful roles in fighting back against critical race theory in the classroom. They need to fight equally hard to stop anti-Semitism masquerading as Middle East or ethnic studies.

[undergroundrockpress]

Michael Bloomfield and Carlos Santana at the last week of the Fillmore, San Francisco, 1971.⁣ Photo : Jim Marshall.

The closing of the Fillmore West brought out hundreds of San Francisco fans for a days-long celebration of the ballroom's legacy as a historic purveyor of Sixties rock 'n' roll. Bill Graham's famed venue could no longer support the ever-increasing fees charged by the national acts he presented, and the promoter had no choice but to close down. The revelry culminated in an evening of jams on July 4, 1971, and one featured John Cipollina, Carlos Santana and Michael Bloomfield. The show was heard live over KSFX and this file comes from that broadcast.

[athena5898]

Given the nature of my blog at this point, i tend to shy away from posting about media stuff. Buuuuut I think there are a lot of younger people experience this slightly "political" dude bro phenomenon so I kind of want to walk them through it. So Dawntrail the most recent ff14 expansion. Is actually pretty good. Now if you listen to some aspect of the community you are going to get some other........."perspectives" on that. Dawntrail is flawed, of course it is. This is the expansion that would have been in development during mid to post 2020 AND it's the expansion that needed to come around after Enwalker to build up the new story. Endwalker that spent YEARS building up to a climatic finish. What does this have to do with the first paragraph? Well, I'll tell you.

Dawntrail focuses on the story of a coming of age of a nontraditionally feminine woman lead Wuk Lamat (who is voiced by a trans voice actor) and we, the heroes of the world, are now going to help and take a back seat to this person. Who she and the entire expansion is based on Indigenous people from various parts of "America" so you know, they should be front a center and our out-of-town asses *should* take a seat in the back (some of you will read this and immediately go "oh that's why it's getting extra hate") If you do not know and was lucky enough to not be a woman or non cis het white male in the 90s trying to play video games or enjoy nerd culture....All of what I just stated is a big problem. Dude bros as I like to call them, (aka someone who you will always be curious if they were or would be part of Gamer Gate. Also please note a dude bro doesn't have to be a man...trust me on that) hate this kind of shit. They naturally feel threatened when the media's focus is not about them. So what do they do? They take legitimate criticism of something and BLOW IT THE FUCK UP. Suddenly that thing that was kinda annoying, is now just the fucking worst. A story beat drags on a little long? Worst media ever. A character has a minor plot hole? Worst media ever. dialogue a little blah at one point? Worst media ever. etc etc etc These are the same kinda people mind you who will write a 8 page essay how (insert average mid action movie here) is the most amazing masterpiece of a film. (which I don't really care about, but it shows that these people are not exactly the most objective purveyors of media arts as they like to claim to be when it's suddenly about their misogyny and white supremacy) I'm bringing this up cause I'll notice some well meaning people being confused saving things "well...I kinda get *this* part of the criticism but...not this other stuff. Why is it a big deal" or some version of this. They don't actually care that much, they just care that an Indegenous GNC cat woman is getting more screen time then their precious gods gift to Eorza WoL. If they had made this expansion about a white guy or our WoL and it wouldn't of gotten nearly the same level of backlash. People will disagree with me, but I'm sorry this is just a fact. And because this is the reading comprehension website, no it's not bad to dislike Dawntrail. No it isn't bad to think a character is annoying. But the patterns are there and the chances of this JUST being about the real issues is just fucking zero. You dont' spend that much time complaining about ONE character as the focus if it isn't about the bullshit dude bro gamer pride. Honestly given how fucking gay this game is I have no idea how these people play this game without burning up like a vampire touching sunlight ALSO...I'm a ex wow player who played that game for the story (I was 14, give me a break) from BC all the way up to 7.2. So I kinda know what i'm talking about when it comes to toxic dipshit gamer behavior *looks back at that last paragraph* god that's so fucking sad. Oh fun fact, according to Wuk Lamat's voice actor Sena Bryer, all voice acting for the new area in Dawntrail was given to Latino/Indigenous voice actors for every single character. (from this area of course) *edit* lol yeah anyone saying i'm wrong is just a fucking grifter or liar. Found this while looking something else up. You know it's bad when the god damn director has to step in and say "yo you little assholes cut it out" https://www.pcgamesn.com/final-fantasy-xiv-a-realm-reborn/naoki-yoshida-wuk-lamat