#Statement of Additional Grounds

[iconsumedmygoldfish]

i. am. ANGRY.

disclaimer im a loser

ALRIGHT. I FOUND SOMEONE ON ROBLOX WITH THE SAME INTERESTS AS ME. THEY WERE ABOUT TO LOREDUMP ABOUT SOMETHING THE CREATOR OF A PODCAST I LOVE IS DOING, AND I DISCONNECTED, AND I COULDN'T GET BACK IN THE SERVER (I HAVE TRIED FOR 20 MINUTES)

no way did i just meed a will wood and magnus archives fan on roblox free draw 2 (and subsequently lose them like 2 seconds later lmao)

anyway they said 'ok so for people in the uk alexander newall is-' and that's when i disconnected

edit: im sorry if you just wanted fanart of your favourite fandom or whatever ik we gotta survive on scraps and all but like. i still can't find out. I GOT LEFT HANGING BY MY OWN WIFI.

[gentsma]

An Incomplete List of 2024 Additions to the Merriam-Webster

bingo card noun … 2 slang : a list of possible, expected, or likely scenarios — usually used in the phrase on one's bingo card

bussin’ adjective, African American English slang : extremely good : excellent; especially : delicious, tasty

chef’s kiss noun : a gesture of satisfaction or approval made by kissing the fingertips of one hand and then spreading the fingers with an outward motion — often used interjectionally

cold open noun : a scene of a film or television episode that precedes the title sequence or opening credits and that typically takes place in medias res

cromulent adjective, informal + humorous : acceptable, satisfactory

doggo noun, slang : dog

doomscroll verb : to spend excessive time online scrolling (see scroll entry 2) through news or other content that makes one feel sad, anxious, angry, etc.

edgelord noun, slang : someone who makes wildly dark and exaggerated statements (as on an internet forum) with the intent of shocking others

jorts plural noun : shorts made of denim or jean : jean shorts

nerf verb 1 informal : to reduce the effectiveness of (something, such as a character, attribute, or weapon) in a video game; broadly : to make (something) less useful or effective 2 informal : to lightly bump (another car) in an automobile race

padawan noun, informal : a young person especially when regarded as naïve, inexperienced, etc.

rage quit verb : to suddenly stop participating or engaging in (something) in a fit of anger and frustration : to quit (something) in anger

rizz noun, slang : romantic appeal or charm

simp verb, informal : to show excessive devotion to or longing for someone or something

smashburger noun 1 : a hamburger patty that is pressed thin onto a heated pan or griddle at the start of cooking; also : a patty (as of beans or ground turkey) prepared similarly 2 : a sandwich featuring one or more such patties

[sayruq]

Here's more of what's been happening on the ground. (Once again I'm not an expert in war).

Palestinian fighters are still waging war on the state of Israel

It is clear that Hamas and other groups have access to anti aircraft weaponry and long range missiles, partly from looting Israeli bases but partly from (and this is unconfirmed) from the Russia-Ukraine war. It's not unexpected for weapons to end up smuggled into other countries during a war.

On the other hand, Israel went from swearing it would invade Gaza on the ground to doing just about anything but that

It's understandable why Israel would hesitate even with its 300,000 strong army

IDF is made up of mostly conscripted soldiers who normally act as civilians once they've served their 2.5 year mandatory conscription. Not only that, IDF acts more like a police force than an army. Its soldiers simply don't have the training or mentality to fight militia groups in their home turf.

America itself doubts its capabilities no matter how it words it. This is a country that has yet to win against a guerilla army so it has experience when it comes to this

Edit:

Edit 2: above Hamas states the obvious

In my previous post I highlighted how disorganised the Israel military was in response to Operation Flood Al Aqsa.

This hasn't changed in the days. Israel is behaving more like a cornered animal lashing out than the so called 'strongest army in the Middle East.'

It has been dropping bombs on Syria, Lebanon and Egypt aimlessly, more out of anger than calculated strategy

Its efforts to pushing back against the Palestinian militia isn't going well either

in addition to naked, barbaric cruelty towards Gaza because it is not producing results elsewhere

The tweet below is important as Russia is an Israeli ally. The Israeli right wing has been very favourable towards Putin, even willing to disagree with the US and EU policies on Russia. However Israel repeatedly bombing Syria is quickly souring Russia on the country. While Putin doesn't want to go against Israel at this point, he has become increasingly critical of the country in the past couple of days.

Saudi went from making a half-hearted 'both sides need to stop statements to cutting ties with Israel (ties Israel and America have worked very hard to form) to outrightly condemning Israel's treatment of the people of Gaza.

Naturally, with all of this happening, Israel has responded, not with ceasing the bombardment of Gaza, but by killing and assaulting journalists covering the genocide.

so that it could committ war crimes without it being documented and seen by the world. War crimes such as announcing that they'd bomb a hospital in Gaza and giving doctors and nurses just hours to evacuate their patients.

This, btw, is part of the reason they cut electricity so that Palestinians can't post their own genocide on social media. Israel brutality is costing them allies but they have no intention of stopping.

Despite all of this, there has been a great deal of support for Palestinians globally

In short, this war is not going the way Israel thought it would. They didn't crush Hamas and the other Palestinian military groups immediately after the battle of Re'im. In fact, they're still struggling against those groups right now. They've been humiliated in front of the world after being revealed to be paper tigers and as such, they're going after Palestinian civilians in increasingly horrific ways.

The Palestinian resistance is still optimistic and they're still carrying out their plan. There's still hope for a future without apartheid.

[rileyslibrary]

“Abso-fuckin-lutely not,” he said.

He was so serious and adamant one would have thought you had asked him to remove his balaclava so Auntie Maurie could pinch his cheeks.

“Are you allergic, Lieutenant?” you asked, extending “that thing,” as he referred to it, in front of his face.

"Get that thing away," he yelled, taking a step back. He couldn't even look at it.

“Lieutenant, it’s a kitten, not shit,” you explained with a smirk. Still, he dismissed your point, stating it was the same thing, using agricultural produce as references: “tomayto, tomahto, potayto, potahto,” and stuff like that.

But you took it with you to the base anyway. He wasn’t in charge of such executive decisions, and the Captain allowed it, saying it was a good solution for the mice problem.

You fed and cared for it the way its mother would have if she weren't dead, but Ghost was far from happy with the new addition to the family.

He side-eyed it and always questioned its motives like it was some tango. “Why is it doing that?” and “why is it looking at me weird?” were his two most common questions. To which the answers were always, “it’s a fucking cat,” and “you’re the one who's looking at it weird.”

But he was warming up to it every day; not in the way water warms up on the stove, but in the way the ocean’s layers have different temperatures.

At first, he learned to acknowledge the kitten, or the kitten taught him to do so. The verdict was not out yet, as you and the rest of the team had different opinions.

Then, it came in the way a higher-up would scold his soldiers, with statements such as “stop playing with the focken gun slings, you little shit,” or “get out of my boot.”

And then it was more of a conversational thing, where the kitten would meow at him, and Ghost would reply something along the lines of “it’s tea; you don’t drink tea,” and he would proceed to show the cup to the cat as evidence. Like he didn’t want to hurt its feelings or betray its trust.

Later on, he’d pretend to throw a little piece of chicken to the ground accidentally, and the kitten would run to it. He’d look at the kitten and mutter something like “ah, shit, too late to pick it up now, innit”, and let the kitten have it. It was like a secret handshake between the two of them, thinking that no one would notice.

But you did.

Just like you look at them now, Lieutenant Simon “get that thing off my face” Riley lying on the couch with that kitten sleeping on his chest.

And he looks at you, looking at him, and you open your mouth to say something.

But he stops you. He brings his index finger to his mouth and shooshes you, gesturing at his sweet little “stop playing with my shoelaces” ginger companion.

[huskersbooze]

Bambi

Alastor x Reader

Summary : Alastor returns from his outing one day, finding a guest lying on the floor, unconscious, in front of the Hazbin Hotel. Untrue to Alastor fashion, scaring most of the staff members, he decides to keep the fascinating creature in his broadcasting studio, and when she wakes up, she's forgotten everything, even her name. And when Alastor starts calling her nicknames in the mean time, he accidentally gives her one that she ends up growing attached to..

Warnings : N/A

Pairing : Alastor x F!Reader (Gn!Reader here, M!Reader here)

Additional tags : Fluff(?), mentions of amnesia, Alastor actually being nice?!

Word count : 1.06k

“Wonderful, just wonderful! You’re awake!”

A staticky voice drew you out of your thoughts. Surprised, you snapped your neck towards the sound, and a rather tall and slim figure was right at your face.

“Charming, I haven’t seen you around here before!”

You flinch as the figure leans closer, causing them to back away slightly.

“Who.. who are you?”

“Pleasure to meet you, dear, just a pleasure! I'm Alastor, the Radio Demon. And who might you be?"

"I..” You reply. “I don't know." 

He seems taken aback by your response slightly, but his smile doesn't falter. Instead he cocks his head to the side and blinks at you.

"What's your name?"

You stay quiet for a while until you give an uncertain head tilt back to him.

"I don't know.."

The grin still very much glued to his face, he leaned a bit closer to you, voice dropping to a more hushed tone.

"Darling, you don't remember your name, or you don't know your name?"

"I.. I don't remember." You fight the urge to start fidgeting with your hands, looking down to the ground as your memories become a hazy blur.

"You don't remember? Your name? Anything?"

"No.."

He doesn't seem to let his bright smile falter at that, although his expression shifts slightly towards curiosity.

"Quite the fascinating creature you are." He blinks a couple of times before he shifts to lean against what seemed to be a broadcasting panel, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Intriguing, really. Do you know what happened to your memory?"

"No.. not really."

"Well, that's unfortunate." The Radio Demon lets out a chuckle, static still laced in his laugh. "It seems you're in a bit of a dilemma, aren't you, Bambi?"

"Bambi.. I like it." You reply.

"Pardon me?" He raises his eyebrow at you, surprised at your statement.

"Bambi. I like the sound of that."

He laughs, a smile sounding from him again. There was something so unsettling yet alluring about him.

"That is rather fitting, I suppose. Bambi.. it's not a bad name." He thinks for a few seconds, stroking his chin as he considers. "And I suppose I'll need something to refer to you if you're staying. It fits you.."

"Staying?"

"Where do you think you are right now, darling? You certainly didn't expect me to leave you out there with your memories wiped with nowhere to go?"

"I.."

"Surely you hoped to stay for accommodation and basic necessities?" The Radio Demon asks, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "You've lost your memory after all, have you not?"

"Yes.." You hesitantly replied. Sure, you've lost your memory, but you weren't stupid enough to follow a random Radio Demon around without knowing him.

"I don't bite, Bambi. I can guarantee everyone at the hotel will treat you with the respect you deserve. And if they don't, all you need to do is let me know and I'll handle them for you."

"Hotel?"

"My, my, you really are a clueless little deer." Alastor uses a cane-typed staff to ruffle your hair. “So fragile and just the cutest little thing.”

“Thank.. you?”

Alastor tilts his head to the side curiously.

"It seems as if my teasing isn't upsetting you. How strange." He merely comments. “Oh, to understand your lost little mind.”

You carefully scan the room. It seemed to be a broadcasting studio, the room simply in red. Totally wasn’t sinister at all.

“So, what do you say, Bambi? We wouldn't mind providing you with all the necessities you need for now.”

“Necessities?”

Alastor chuckles again.

"Like, a bed, for example! Or, oh, I'm sure you'd want new clothes as well, right? And... if that's not enough, we do serve breakfast the next day. If you want food, that is..."

“Jambalaya..” You mutter, mostly to yourself as you’re lightly lost in thought.

Alastor’s grin widens a little, his ears perking slightly at the sudden mention of his favourite food.

"I can't say that I was expecting that, but... yes, we actually do have jambalaya on the menu for lunch. How'd you know that?"

“Oh, sorry.. I was just talking to myself. It’s my favourite food.” You stifle a blush as you let out an embarrassed smile.

“Ah, so you do remember some things, Bambi.” He raises his voice in curiosity, walking towards a trapdoor in the floor. “Come along, dear, let’s bring you to Charlie.”

“Charlie?”

“The owner of the hotel, and also the Princess of Hell.”

“We’re in hell?”

Alastor stops in his tracks as the two of you reach the hallways, finally out of Alastor’s broadcasting tower.

“After our whole conversation, you just noticed?”

“I.. I suppose so.”

“Oh, dear, you really are just one mysterious creature, aren't you? To think you just appeared here, with no memories of yourself, of the world, and even what you're doing here in Hell. You are truly fascinating..”

Alastor smirks, speaking in a lower voice. “Charlie will be delighted to have you here.”

After introductions and such, Charlie settles you into the room next to Alastor’s, opposite of Angel Dust, and introduces you to all the staff.

“So.. who are ya’ exactly?” The white spider raises a hand, slouching on the couch with a grey cat beside him. 

“This is our new guest!” Charlie introduces. “Alastor found her unconscious and offered to let her stay.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question, princess.” The grey cat speaks up, seemingly bored from the unoriginality of these introductions.

“Well, Husker, our little friend here has lost her memories.” Alastor speaks up from beside you, ruffling your hair with his staff-cane-thing once more. You still couldn’t make out what it was really supposed to be.

“Lost her memories?” Vaggie is the one to speak up this time. 

“Indeed. It seems our dear friend doesn't even remember her own name, let alone anything else.”

“Then what a’ we s’posed to refer to her as?” Angel questions.

“You could call me Bambi..” You mutter softly, gaze glued to your own feet.

“Works for me.” Husk shrugs.

“Sure.” Angel replies.

Vaggie and Niffty nods.

You feel the static beside you grow a bit louder, and as you shift your gaze, you see Alastor keeping his composure with his backs behind his back, his eyes on you as he gives you a soft, and genuine smile.

“You’re going to love it here, Bambi.” He says.

———/ End. /———

[blueiscoool]

Rome’s Ancient Arch of Constantine Struck by Lightening

During a storm on September 3, lightning struck Rome’s Arch of Constantine, chipping the structure’s marble surface. The 1,700-year-old arch and its neighbor, the Colosseum, were two of several sites affected by the thunderstorm, which produced 2.36 inches of rain in less than an hour. Usually, the city sees a similar amount over the entire month of September.

“A lightning strike hit the arch right here and then hit the corner,” a tourist at the site told Reuters’ Alberto Lingria. “We saw this fly off,” the tourist added while pointing to a fallen block of stone.

Finished in 315 C.E., the Arch of Constantine is one of Rome’s three surviving ancient triumphal arches, each erected to honor a person or event. This arch commemorates Constantine I’s 312 victory over the emperor Maxentius. That same year, Constantine devoted himself to Christianity—the first Roman ruler to do so.

The fierce storm also felled two large trees near the Circus Maximus, flooded the Trevi Fountain and flooded the Colosseum’s subterranean tunnels, reports CNN. After lightning struck the arch, staff of the Colosseum Archaeological Park quickly gathered its dislodged pieces and placed them in a secure location, according to a statement from Italy’s Ministry of Culture.

In the days that followed, some tourists stumbled upon additional pieces on the ground.

​​“My American group found these fragments, and we’re handing them over to the workmen,” tour guide Serena Giuliani told the London Times’ Tom Kington on the morning of September 4.

Specialists are now examining the condition of the fragments. Officials say the damage was limited to the monument’s southern side, where unrelated restoration work had started just days earlier, allowing for quick repairs.

At roughly 70 feet tall and 85 feet wide, the Arch of Constantine contains three separate arches, each framed by columns. The intricately decorated structure is adorned with recycled fragments, or spolia, taken from other ancient buildings, including monuments honoring Trajan, Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius.

The arch is also decorated with carvings of Constantine, including a series of reliefs depicting his victorious fight against Maxentius in the Battle of the Milvian Bridge.

In 306, Constantine was leading Roman troops in Britain—then part of the Roman Empire—when his military declared him their emperor. His brother-in-law, Maxentius, also declared himself the emperor around the same time. After years of complex power struggles, the two rulers ultimately faced off in 312 at Rome’s Milvian Bridge, which overlooks the river Tiber. Panels on the Arch of Constantine depict the battle’s conclusion, showing Maxentius’ troops drowning in the river.

The arch’s recent encounter with lightning may have carried spiritual significance for its ancient builders, as “the bolts were believed to be the work of the gods,” per the Times. These spots were sacred for the Romans, who sometimes erected temples at such sites.

By Sonja Anderson.

[follow-up-news]

The IRS plans to end a major tax loophole for wealthy taxpayers that could raise more than $50 billion in revenue over the next decade, the U.S. Treasury Department says. The proposed rule and guidance announced Monday includes plans to essentially stop “partnership basis shifting” — a process by which a business or person can move assets among a series of related parties to avoid paying taxes. Biden administration officials said after evaluating the practice that there are no economic grounds for these transactions, with Deputy Treasury Secretary Wally Adeyemo calling it “really just a shell game.” The officials said the additional IRS funding provided through the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act had enabled increased oversight and greater awareness of the practice. “These tax shelters allow wealthy taxpayers to avoid paying what they owe,” IRS commissioner Danny Werfel said. Due to previous years of underfunding, the IRS had cut back on the auditing of wealthy individuals and the shifting of assets among partnerships and companies became common. The IRS says filings for large pass-through businesses used for the type of tax avoidance in the guidance increased 70% from 174,100 in 2010 to 297,400 in 2019. However, audit rates for these businesses fell from 3.8% to 0.1% in the same time frame. Treasury said in a statement announcing the new guidance that there is an estimated $160 billion gap between what the top 1% of earners likely owe in taxes and what they pay.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Big Stupid

Highschool AU Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: He wasn't the brightest, but he sure was hardworking, especially when it came down to spending some time with his girl. But one thing was sure, no one could hurt his queen.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Implied Bullying

Word Count: 2.6k

Est.Read Time: 13 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Quietly, ever so delicately she nestled between his spread-out legs, his entire frame occupying most of her single bed. It amazed her how he'd be able to make her bed look small, well, he often amazed her, there were moments though, where she'd wish he didn't, he didn't do something that would catch her by surprise.

"Hold still." She whispered, moving closer, not acknowledging the hands on her waist, too focused on his cheek. At any other given moment, this position would have had her blushing mad, just the thought of him being in her room, having her little brother constantly opening the door to check up on her when he'd hear her squealing in her pillow, only to roll his eyes and close the door again.

He nodded at her statement, but did not divert his gaze, instead his sharp eyes were settled on her soft features, flickering to every freckle, every twitch of her lips, to the way her eyes were trembling- with fear? Truth be told he didn't mean for it to happen, especially not after he worked so hard to get closer to her, to get in the same stupid class as her- even if it was just one class.

"Don't...look at me like that." She whispered, turning to reach across his thigh, picking up the bright pink box of plasters she sighed, turning to face him again, something bubbling within her, swirling with the feelings she often kept locked away, but he was making it difficult for her, especially after what had happened tonight, the conflict within her was on full boil, the inner turmoil. Should she be upset with him or should she feel flattered? Was he not worried about himself- should she be worried about him? But should she feel this way towards someone who broke their promise? Was it fair with her-

“Are you…mad at me?” 

Eyes flickering up to meet him, catching the cracked glass of his frames, relieved it hadn’t shattered, saving his eye- this moron. 

The words left hanging between them, hands ripping the paper of the little bandaids, part of her emergency kit, never thinking she’d be using her cute heart plasters on him- she was no medic, but she had to do something to stop the bruising, were the plasters enough? No? Yes? Love always makes things better, no? 

Love. 

That’s what it was, wasn’t it, had her hands clammy and sweaty, fingers gripping onto his blazer to hold him back when they had come too close for comfort, gut twisting when he had landed on the ground, surrounded by them, sneakers padding across the moist ground, voice shrilling through cold silent night, knees scraping against the ground, crystal droplets clinging onto the lashes of the ‘independent, smart and perfect’ class president, meeting the curious eyes of the newest addition in her life- the big stupid- watching him slowly rise from the ground with a victory smile, as if he had not just been socked in the face, as if they were not surrounded by the same hooligans who had been the bane of her existence for the past few months- only for the verbal assault to turn somewhat physical, somewhat stalker-like, somewhat scary. 

Truth be told, she was more afraid of the way he had looked at her at that moment, than she was when they had followed her to the empty park, the way he had sat up, slowly reaching for her face, cupping her warm, wet cheek, thumb stroking the skin, the way he had whispered how he was sorry for what he was about to do, the way he had broken his promise, that bat of his coming back into the picture- her big stupid.

“Y-you said you won’t get into anymore fights…” she mumbled, gently sticking the plaster on his cheek, smoothening it with the tip of her finger, before repeating the motion with a new plaster, this time on his chin, her other palm flat against his shoulder, pressing him into the baby pink fluffy pillows, the same pillows he’d love to rest his head on when he ever came by to study- only to float into wonderland, flying across the warm hued clouds with her, waltzing across the azure heavens, looking up at him, her smaller hand clasped in his bigger one, other hand gripping onto his shoulder, holding onto him as he swung them around, dancing to the symphony of her laughter, making his bruised heart flutter, soar across the skies, only to nestle next to her calmer, sweeter and brighter one, ready to beat in synch with her- thus, to be shaken awake by her, bringing him back to her, a pleasant smile catching his eyes, blinking up at her, basking in her glow, enveloped by her love.

“I didn’t…I tried to…stop them.” he mumbled, a small pout catching her eye, as she bit her lip, trying to stop herself from mimicking him. He was right, he did, her big boy did try to stop it all, tried to warn them, tried to tell them to leave, perhaps they should’ve listened to him, it was no surprise that he could take them on like that- with or without the help of his friends. 

Head tilting as he observed her, noting the way her head dipped in thought, chewing on her lower lip as she tried to contemplate the gravity of the situation, weighing the facts and figures. It was true, he did not mean to break his promise, he had no intention of doing so, thus, he was only following her back home from her daily math tuitions, as quiet as a cat. Making sure to keep his distance, it was his fault that things escalated though, mid-mission he had gotten distracted, spotting a vending machine, deciding to get her a little snack, while she stood at the crossing waiting for the signal to turn green. 

That was his mistake, by the time he had realised that who the idiots passing him by were talking about ‘teaching her a lesson’ were, he’d already lost them- which is why he had run down the familiar path, hoping to find her the one place she’d go to get away from it all, her safe space, the place where he clumsily admitted his feelings for her, standing there with a poster that he had made with his friends, with a crooked ‘I <3 YOU.” It hurt him to find her in that same space, no longer safe, no longer secure, as she slowly backed into a tree, trying to negotiate with her peers, who knew kids in AP Math could be so psychotic- it wasn’t even that hard, ever since Jongho had given him these magic glasses he’d been scoring so well, they put him in the same slot as his girl- mission accomplished.

 He had called them out, walking towards them with peace in mind, asking them politely to leave, but apparently wearing these glasses somehow meant that he had magically lost all the physical strength and wit he had- again, he wondered how these kids ever ended up being so smart if they were so stupid. No, he still didn’t pick a fight, he had merely maneuvered around the hooligans, clasping his girl’s hand and pulling away, until a sneaky bastard had snuck up on him, which led to the others to join the fun, once the small mountain fell to the ground, trying to block the hits. Though that didn’t last long, once he saw the way she was shaking, eyes trembling and moist, her hands clutching onto him- no one made his queen cry.

“Thank you…for following me.”

Her words breaking his train of thought as he nodded instantly, body that had slumped and relaxed, jerked back awake to attend to her, regardless of how she was the one tending to his wounds at the moment. “If you weren’t there…I don't wanna know what they would’ve done.”

She could feel his grip tighten around her at the statement, noticing in the way his warm eyes had hardened at just the thought, though she knew deep down her big stupid was a softie, especially for her. Crumpling the wrappers of the plasters she smiled up at him, trying to bring him back to her, leaning closer to brush her lips against his, careful of the cut on his lower lip, trying to ensure it didn’t sting, only to gasp when he pressed her against him, squeezing her closer, looking down at her with his signature smile, causing her to gently poke his dimple, “Take off your glasses…they’re broken.”

“No.”

Her brows furrowed at his curt response, no? Who said- no one ever says- he barely ever said no to her! With a huff, somewhat bratty, she reached up for his crooked glasses, only for him to turn his head the other way, earning a whine from her, which almost had him believe that she had given up, though as soon as he looked at her eyes, he internally groaned, he had seen that look before- that’s what he gets for dating Jongho’s sister, even if she was older than his friend, she would become as bratty as he did when either didn’t get what they wanted and right now, she wanted his glasses.

 “Sannie! Take them off! They’re broken.” with that she reached for them again, only for him to pull away, having her pounce at him, trying to push past his hands- an unfair wrestling match- one that ended as soon as it started, as he pushed her over, rolling her onto her back, her wrists gripped in one hand, pinned above her, pressing into the soft pillows as he pouted down at the way she was glaring up at him. “You dont even need glasses!” she spat, trying to pull out of his grasp before whining, kicking her feet against the bed, enough for the metal container to bounce off the bed, a loud metallic clang echoing across the room, though he didn’t even flinch, too focused on something else that was bouncing during her little temper tantrum, man, she really looked good in this uniform.

“Sannie! Stop staring like a creep and take them off!”

“I can’t” he licked his chapped lips, eyes flickering from her button up to her face, noticing her confused look, the way she tilted her head up at him, trying to understand him, as if she were trying to tell him that ‘she didn’t speak stupid’, so he’d have to translate- which he did, “They’re magic glasses, I can only take them off when I’m sleeping or showering, otherwise I’ll turn dumb again!”

“I-Magic-What?” Her words cut short as her face contorted in confusion, before a sly smile stretched across her face, a negotiation ready as usual, “if you take them off, I’ll let you see my- SAN!” she shrieked when he flipped her skirt up, glancing down at the pink cotton then up at her face, his face wearing an unamused look, as his hand fixed her skirt again, “Like I said, they make me smart, I’m holding you down, I can easily check it out myself, you don’t need to flash me.”

“You’re not smart, you’re a perv!” she whined, face blushing mad from embarrassment, true, it was a cheap tactic, but hey, he was her boyfriend and she really wanted to take those glasses off, they were cracked and crooked, obscuring her view of his perfect face.

“No, I’m smart, that’s how I moved up to your class too.” he stated as a matter of fact.

“San…you…you studied to get there- who told - who gave you these glasses?”

“Jongho. I told him I wanted to spend more time with you…but since you’re super smart I could never be in the same class as you, and being president meant you’re busy with club activities and school so I couldn’t drag you away from all that, you worked so hard for it- so he gave me these glasses, and said if I use these while studying, I’ll become smart! That way at least I’d be able to be with you and I’d become smart enough to do it all. And I did! Now we’re in Math together!”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she should find it sweet that her brother was helping her boyfriend or be upset about how stupid he was, or be amazed at the way Jongho was able to fix her boyfriend’s attention span issue- glasses to concentrate, wow. With a heavy sigh she smiled up at him, her heart swelling with joy at the realisation, behind all this stupidity, the premise of this nonsense, was her- it was all for her. God, he looked so sweet, hovering above her, with those glasses, heart printed pink plasters all over his face, his uniformed all worn out from the day’s events, hair a mess- but his expressions held the kind of softness that had her falling to her knees, his sharp eyes boring into hers, swirling with tenderness that had assured her of his caring mannerism the first time Jongho had brought him home, when the shy mountain of a boy had meekly dipped his head, bowing whilst he had introduced himself- who knew that shy boy would be holding her down like this, physically with his strength and mentally with his love.

“Sannie?”

“Hmm?”

“Let me fix them.”

That’s how she found herself back in their original position, sitting between his legs as she tried to wrap the pink plaster around the hinge of his glasses, she couldn’t fix the glass but she could fix the balance- ever so often, she’d glance up at him and smile at the way he had his eyes clenched shut. He had told her that he’d keep them closed so the ‘smart wouldn’t escape’, and now she’d look at his face, one contorted in pure concentration, his angular face waiting there, all putty in her hands- he really was her big stupid.

“There…we’re all done.” she smiled, leaning closer to slip his glasses back on, making sure to be as gently as she could, pulling back to smile at him when he opened his eyes and smiled back at her, “Do you feel smart, Sannie?”

“Mhmmm…”

“That’s good.” she cooed at his response, leaning closer as she sighed, finally relaxing, laying on her side, head resting on his shoulder, hands holding onto his bruised one, gently tracing the reddened knuckles with nimble fingers, his other arm holding her close by the waist. 

“Sannie?” she whispered, pulling his hand up to her face, pressing a gentle kiss against his knuckles, earning a squeeze at the waist, followed by a shy, “Hmmm?”

“Thank you for saving me.” she mumbled, eyes drooping as the exhaustion of the day finally started to settle in, not bothered about the position they were in, or the fact that she was still in uniform and so was he- his warmth and presence was comforting enough to lull her to a blissful state between sleep and consciousness.

“Anything for you…” was all she heard, before her body slumped against his, her gentle breathing and steady heartbeat pulling him in with her, his body sliding down to lay against her soft bedding properly, his sore back cracking when he stretched, slowly manoeuvring her to lay beside him, trying to accommodate the two on the small bed, so that she was on her side, head on the pillow facing him. His hand cupping her cheek, as he blinked at her, taking in her relaxed features, the cracked glass no longer obscuring the view as he smiled at her with tired eyes, scooting closer to her, placing his chin on top of her head, heart jumping with glee when she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face in his neck, his own grip on her tightened,

“Anything for you.”

A/N: Yes, I am obsessed with Baji from Tokyo Revengers, its adorable how and why he wore glasses. Yes, I am obsessed with this song as well- blame @edenesth

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[frannyzooey]

devour (the entire universe)

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: E (additional warnings: harvesting violence, mentions of gore and blood, mentions of cannibalism, love as consumption and all the visuals that come with it, so much fucking and filth and ass play and cum eating it isn’t funny)

My submission for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event, my giftee is @wannab-urs ❤ Merry Christmas, my lovely!

I was so excited when I was given your name (!!) - I absolutely love seeing you on my dash. I tried to take as many things from your list as possible, but the prompt "love as consumption" really inspired this piece. Having never written anything like this before, I really, really hope you like it. A million thank yous to @hier--soir who beta'ed this for me and also gave me the best inspiration and guidance - I couldn't have done it without them. Thank you also to @bageldaddy who put up with my terrible spelling and who always reminds me, in the best way, that less is more ❤

--

CYCLE ONE

The first time you saw him, he stumbled into the field you were working in.  Your head snapping up at the sound of someone coming through the grass, you observed each other for a moment, each of your throwers raised. 

“Now this is something I have never seen in all my time in The Green,” he said. “A little girl.”

Immediately bristling, indignation flashed across your face underneath the glass dome of your helmet. You resented being called that - a little girl. The open prejudice against women harvesters was well known and there was something about his tone that felt mocking in a way you loathed, so you didn’t even dignify his statement with an answer. 

Instead, you held your ground. 

The two of you locked in a silent standoff, he took you in with a tilt of his helmet, assessing the threat you posed. You did the same, taking in his battered yellow suit, his lithe but broad frame. 

Eventually, he lifted his hands in acquiescence and turned, disappearing back into the thick vegetation. 

“A little girl,” you muttered angrily to yourself. Gouging your shovel into the rough soil, you sneered at the remembrance of his tone – as if he was taken aback by your presence. As if you didn’t belong here. 

Three weeks later, you understood the marvel in his initial statement. 

A woman an anomaly on the Green, others saw you as an easy target. Strong-armed out of your gems for the third time in weeks, other harvesters used brute force against your own smaller frame. Repeatedly forcing you into submission, you started to hate both them and yourself; the cruel environment and even crueler inhabitants bending you until you almost broke. 

It was at this point that he stumbled upon you again: only this time, he offered himself to your aid. 

Impressed by your tenacity, he suggested a partnership: your nimble fingers paired with his protection. 

Sitting in the dirt with your suit torn and your case gone, you knew it was foolish to reject his offer of protection, but you did it anyway. 

Both of you knew it was pride talking.

He crouched down in front of you, bringing you face to face. “I don’t see you have much of a choice. Or perhaps you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

You narrowed your eyes in stubbornness. “What’s in it for you?”

He shrugged. “A companion.”

You stiffened, and he shook his head. “Not that sort of companion.” His eyes raked over your form, as if he could see anything under your bulky suit, coming back to your face with a raise of his eyebrows. “Unless you’re interested?”

Your face hardened. “Not a chance. Protection only. Even split.”

He thought for a moment, his face suddenly transforming into something amenable.

“Of course.”

CYCLE TWO

At first, you hated him. 

Couldn’t stand the way he was always talking in that drawl of his, always spewing those endless sentences filled with nonsensical words and even less content. You had come to the Green to work alone in silence, after all. A concept he seemed to despise, given the way he wouldn’t fucking shut up. 

Attempting to ignore his ceaseless talking in the days that followed, you thought all the time about breaking the partnership - especially when you saw just how deceiving he could be with those words of his. It was a resource, you reasoned, to have that type of deception on your side, but what was stopping him from deceiving you? Constantly questioning his true allegiance, you kept your guard up – until the fourth time someone tried to take what was yours. 

He killed them. 

No hesitation, no negotiating. Calculated yet with a glimpse of something feral underneath that flashed in his dark eyes with every plunge of his harvesting knife into the man’s chest, you held your breath as you watched him take out the threat. Your form was frozen, the heavy grunts of his struggle echoing through your helmet. 

Chest heaving and fist gripping a blade covered in thick, dark blood when he rose, his breathing sounded heavy and labored through the radio. His deep voice crackled through, pulling you from your fog. 

“It’s okay, Birdie. Keep digging.”

CYCLE THREE 

Sharing a tent for logistical reasons, you had to get used to his…proximity. 

The careless way he discarded his clothes around the small space, the constant crinkle of Bits Bars. The way he changed his clothes in front of you whether or not you averted your gaze. His scent that clung to everything in that tent: the thin pillow and blanket he gave you, the towels you dried yourself with, the clothing he lent you to sleep in. 

Unused to having anyone in his presence, he was careless with his body and trying to give him some privacy (that he didn’t seem to want, nor need) you strained your eyes attempting not to look at his tanned skin every time he bared it. His body littered with evidence of survival, you wanted to touch every line of puckered skin with your fingertips just to see how it felt. 

Attraction due to proximity, is what you told yourself. 

Imagining the texture and heat of his skin, obsessing about the way his tongue peeked out to dart at his top lip when he was deep in concentration, staring at the size of his hands as he worked to daydream about how filling his fingers would feel inside you. The images haunted your every waking moment, and you tried to ignore them all, including the sleep thick mumbles that left his plush lips while he was dreaming at night. 

The intimate sound drove you mad with arousal, even though you assumed they were nightmares that plagued him…until the sounds changed into something more desperate. Until he said your name, his hips shifting on his cot with intent. 

Your pulse pounding in the dark, you slipped your hand beneath your waistband and delved your fingers deep into the silken wetness that greeted you. 

Swirling, swirling, swirling, you joined him in his dreams. 

CYCLE FOUR

Everything about your dynamic changed when he lost his arm. 

Used to him being confidence brimming over, he turned into something else. Sullen, quiet. The silence you once craved too foreign to be comfortable, you tried to coax him out. 

“You seem like you’ve been doing this a long time. Tell me about it.” 

“How long have you been on your own? How many planets have you harvested on?”

“How did you get that blonde streak in your hair, is it a birthmark or something?”

Slowly inching yourself into the hole he’d lowered himself into, you settled in next to him, curling yourself into his still side. 

Diving deep inside him to find the self-confidence you knew was buried deep, you cradled it carefully, nurturing it back to life. You modified his throwers for one armed use, stitched up the sleeve of his jumpsuit so it would stop flapping in the wind, helped him practice fighting techniques to learn a new way of throwing his lean strength around. When he had a setback in his healing, you bartered for more juice all on your own. 

Carefully soaking his stump, he had avoided your gaze the whole time – or tried to, but you wouldn’t let him. 

“Hey,” you murmured, his chin cupped in your hand. His dark eyes lifted to yours, and you held his gaze. “We’re still partners, right?”

He huffed in disgust, looking away. “A one armed man is of little benefit to you.”

“I decide what’s beneficial to me,” you challenged, the fierceness in your tone forcing the edge of his lips to tug up. 

He said nothing as his eyes searched your face and you considered how this must be for him – a reversal of roles, an independent creature like him used to coming out on top. Scrambling and clawing and fighting for it, sure – only this time he lost, and with it, everything he knew.

Except you. 

“I need you,” you said, reaching for his whiskered cheek to guide his face back to yours. “Partners. You and me, okay?”

“If you’d still have me, Birdie,” he offered, nodding in confirmation. “You and me.”

CYCLE FIVE

The first time you kissed, you were both drunk – and you did a lot more than kissing. 

For a man still getting used to one arm, he fucked you senseless. 

A bottle of…something found on the body of another harvester who saw Ezra’s missing arm and tried to take advantage, the two of you drank it in its entirety next to the still body left in the fight’s wake. Stumbling back to your tent with warmth spreading through your limbs to pool between your thighs, he saw your aching, restless want and matched it with his own. 

Insatiable, filthy, depraved: you thought his inhibitions were gone along with the contents of the bottle, but it turns out he never had any. 

Helmets tossed and clothes torn from each other’s bodies, his fingers left bruising marks in their wake paired with the ones pounded into the inside of your thighs from his rough thrusts that shifted the cot along the floor. He swallowed your guttural moans before matching them with his own, his teeth biting into the soft, pliant flesh that he found under the rough exterior of your suit. 

Riddled with the marks of his desire, he watched you ride him until you cried out his name and then made you sit on his face, licking his own spend out from inside you. 

Never stopping until you begged him for reprieve, he only let you sleep an hour before waking you up to do it all over again. 

He fucked you anywhere you were willing to be fucked after that: in broad daylight against the hull of an abandoned pod, bent over his cot with his dirty t-shirt stuffed into your mouth, right in the loose soil of a dig once. 

Introducing you to so much more than you had experience with, he drew every debased fantasy out of you, and then made it come true with his fingers, mouth and cock. Wondering where he’d even learned the things he knew, he regaled you with more tales of his travels, only this time he told you about the interactions of a different kind. 

A brothel, specializing in bondage. 

A woman who had trained her gag reflex, and then bringing in a friend, had shown Ezra how to train his as well. 

A bounty hunter once, who refused to take off his helmet. 

“It was thrilling, not being able to see his face,” he mused, a delighted smile stretching his cheeks. “He came more than anyone I have ever been with. Filled my mouth full of his milky desire.” 

He stopped there with a fond expression, lost in reminiscing. 

“Sounds like you don’t need me anymore,” you teased. “You should go find your tall drink of bounty hunter, and –”

A smirk graced his face, and he rolled you onto your back to settle above you. “I love my gems golden colored, but I love them green as well.” He winked. “Come now, my envious Birdie. I’ll always need you.”

CYCLE TEN

You learned to move as one - both inside the tent and out. 

Alone for months, you shifted with each others every movement, as if your bodies were connected just like the frequency of your helmets. Every tell of his showed plain through his suit, every mood shift of yours was met with a lift of his eyebrow. 

Every beat of time spent in the presence of one another all merged and blended into one timeline: before, and after Ezra. 

Before, there was insignificance, and after, there was only him. 

Love seemed too simple a word, too small for what you felt. You shared a heartbeat, a body, a mind — something more than just love. It was crushing and all consuming, something that took root deep inside you and branched out to connect with his own limbs. You needed a better word than love to describe your devotion. 

Something that dripped in reverence and coated your tongue just like he did. 

“Have you ever cared for someone so much you wanted to consume them? Swallow a piece of them whole, to keep within you forever?”

Love as consumption, he called it. 

You were used to his musings by now, the knowledge that he’d gathered over a lifetime of travels pouring out of his generous, plush mouth. Your bodies squeezed together on his cot, your skin was bare and sweat damp with exertion, your limbs intertwined with his. “There is something romantic about it, don’t you think? Wanting their body within yours.”

“Your body is already within mine nearly every night,” you teased, and he pinched the tip of your nose, grinning. 

“Too true, little bird. Too true.” His face shifted from playful to something subdued. “But you know what I mean.”

“Is that what you want me to do?” Your thumb traced a line across his eyebrow, your fingers seeking out the patch of white in his hairline just above.  “Want me to slice a piece of you off and eat it?”

He ignored the grimace on your face. “Which part of me would you choose?”

The question was phrased in such a way that you could tease him again, but you knew he wanted a real answer, not a playful one. 

“Well…” you thought, lacing your fingers with his to bring them to your mouth. “I have always loved these. But to leave you with any less fingers would just be cruel.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes fixed on the way your mouth molded around his knuckles as you gave them a kiss. Letting go, your touch drifted to dance along the blunt edge of his stump.

“Maybe a piece from here?”

He frowned. “You’d take even more from me, in a place I am already lacking?”

Your voice dropped an octave, your own expression turning solemn. “It was horrible, what we had to do. I hate thinking about it: the weight of your arm as it dropped away, the pain you were in.” You found his dark eyes, holding his gaze as you stroked the puckered flesh. “I want to carve a piece out right here, just to rewrite the memory of it. A gift from you to me, rather than something I took.”

“You took nothing that I did not beg you to take.”

The double meaning in his words – like all of them – wasn’t lost on either of you. 

“Only you would make amputation sound so romantic.”

He smiled, and you dug your fingers into the firm round of his shoulder, pulling his body to lie on top of yours. Cradled safely between your plush thighs, his hips immediately rocked forward with intent. 

His head dipped to nuzzle his nose against your own. “It’s easy to be a romantic with a muse such as you.”

Catching him with a kiss, your lips locked as he slid his tongue inside the wet cavern of your mouth and you breathed him in, winding your arms around his neck to keep him in place. Your fingers slid up through the crown of his mussed, shortly cropped hair and he relaxed on top of you, deepening the kiss. 

“I would give you my arm if I could.” 

You whispered your confession as his mouth covered your pulse with a harsh suck, and whined when he answered with a sharp bite: his incisors pinching your delicate flesh. His hot breath ghosted humid over your skin as he searched for another spot, biting down on the other side of your slim neck. 

Arching underneath him, you continued. “I would cut it off and give it to you.” 

He found the tender underside of your breast, catching it between his teeth and groaned, soothing the bite with a broad sweep of his tongue before continuing down the plane of your body. 

“I would give you anything, Ez. Anything.”

Mindless with lust from the sharp edges of his love, you writhed underneath him, hitching your knees higher along his torso. His strong muscles flexed and shifted under the squeeze of your legs, and he forced them open to spread your legs wider. Questing, his mouth sought out the tender skin along the curve of your hip with another bite. 

“Fuck,” you breathed, pushing your fingers through his hair to guide him lower. 

Situating his broad shoulders between your thighs, his mouth devoured.

Wide open to catch everything you gifted him, his tongue slid smoothly through your folds to collect every slip of arousal that dripped out, his throat bobbing with a swallow before going harder. His hunger shifted you up the cot, the lower half of his face buried inside your aching cunt and when his tongue found your clit with a smooth, forceful grind, you shamelessly begged for more. 

“Harder. Eat it harder.”

He growled, his fingers digging into your flesh to tug you tight against his face and a hoarse cry crawled out of your throat – one that broke into an astonished cry when he pulled back just to bite into the plush, smooth skin of your inner thigh. This one drew blood – you could feel the hot slip of it against your skin, his kisses smeared with it. Ignoring the blossoming throb of pain, you asked him to do it again. 

He did, right at the same time he slid two fingers inside you with a filling stretch and joining your hand with his, he rested his cheek on your inner thigh and watched as your fingers breached your slick warmth together. A finger of your own and one of his, then two of your own and two of his - your hands worked together, as they always have. His face right next to the liquid warmth coating the digits, his tongue joined to lap at your clit. 

Obscene sounds filled the small tent: the audible slick sound of your cunt accepting his fingers over and over again, your higher pitched moans blending with his lower ones. Keeping his fingers tucked snugly inside, his mouth lowered down between your cheeks to slide against your asshole and he ate you there with abandon as well, your thighs dropping open wider to give him more room. 

When his mouth found your clit again with a suck, the impulse to be eaten alive by him spread thick and warm through your hips, weighing heavily in your core. Propelled higher and higher with every pump of his fingers, the image of his blood soaked mouth as his teeth tore into your pulse made you pitch forward into your release, your body bowing against the thin cot. 

Breathless and still riding a pulsing wave, you begged him. “Come up here and fuck me.”

He obeyed immediately, letting his weight push the air from your lungs just before his mouth stole the rest. His kisses soaked in desperation, his cock notched thick and stiff at your entrance, and you accepted him within you without any resistance. Fucking you with harsh snaps of his hips, your fingers dug into the meat of his ass and surrounded in his warmth with the light blacked out by his broad frame, your lips found a home on his bicep that flexed taut next to your cheek.

Your body cradled within his, the humid air around you pulsing with life. The rhythmic woosh of his strong heartbeat, the safety you’d feel within the damp darkness, finally joined as one. 

His strokes snapped harder, his own want matching yours. His mouth ached to bite your soft lips, to nibble on the skin until it broke under the force of his love. 

His harvesting knife slipped between his ribs to crack them open, gifting you everything held inside. Feeding you bits and pieces of his heart, watching the muscle that’s only ever beat for you disappear between your lips. 

“Where do you want it, Birdie?” he begged above you, his mouth molding around the hinge of your jaw, tasting the sweet skin there. “I’m gonna come. Shit – shit. Where do you want it?”

“Inside me.”

A shudder slipped through his body as he came with a loud, sated groan, his hips forcing themselves into the cradle of your thighs to bury it as deep as possible – but he wasn’t done. He was never done, when it came to you. Before he could catch his breath, he slid his softening cock from your warmth and replaced it with his fingers, crooking them to gather the milky spend. 

Bringing them up to your mouth, he fed it to you. 

Glistening tendrils of release coated his fingers and your lips, smeared across your tongue when he forced them into your mouth and then sliding them out, he kissed you deeply, savoring your joined taste. He gathered more, this time shifting his touch to the tight ring of your ass and he pushed some in there as well, your hips arched up to accept it. 

Sweat, spend, blood: he consumed them all and likewise fed them to you. Hours slipped by, his appetite for you insatiable: forcing you onto your hands and knees to eat you roughly from behind, filling your ass with his cock before pulling out to spill hot across your lower back, smearing it over your skin like a balm, his fingers tacky with it when he wrapped them around your slender throat and made you take him again. Riding him, your fingers sought out the wet heat of his mouth and he kissed and nibbled on them, before drawing them in with a suck. 

The vast universe outside the tent was a threatening thing: harsh and unforgiving, ruthless and deadly. Inside the tent, tendrils of filthy intimacy surrounded your bodies as you orbited each other, creating your own universe between the sweat damp press of your bodies. 

“You and me,” he breathed under you, his teeth catching on the pads of your fingers and you dropped down, resting your mouth just under the whiskered curve of his jaw. His pulse a rapid beat under the skin, you relished the strength held just under the surface. 

“You and me,” you replied, your mouth opening wide.

[butterfly-writer]

HEY OMG IM GLAD YOUR REQUEST ARE OPEN!! . Okay so I saw that CLASS 1A x Nomu!Male!Reader oneshot and I was really good !! And I was thinking about one where the M!reader likes Bakugo (he my fav) and he just follows him where ever he goes and Bakugo just don’t mind at all, he even give him head pats , even feed him some of his food. Everyone is just shocked how Bakugo is acting

A New Friend or Pet?

Katsuki Bakugou x Nomu!Male!Reader Summary: Class 1A, loving their new addition to their class, couldn’t help but notice by the fact that their new Nomu friend seems to have a favorite… but who knew it would be the angry blonde?

★☽A/N: REALLY?? I honestly didn’t have much fun making it, but thank you so much!! <33 And I, too, love Katsuki Bakugou <33 Anyways, I’m still recovering from the fact that BNHA is ending in August 5 with their last chapter :(( BNHA had been a huge part of my life and I’m worried that I would grow out of BNHA and have a different favorite :(( But, still, I will forever love BNHA and will help continue the fandom!! Of course, not in the ykyk way…. Especially the tampon thing… ALSO! I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT TOGA IS DEAD, SHIGARAKI’S DEAD, AND DABI/TOUYA IS ON HIS WAY TO DEATH?? I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, PLEASEEEEE HORIKOSHI!! AT LEAST LET DABI STAYY, HAVE ERI REWIND HIM OR SOMETHING.

Contents: FLUFF

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

For the next few months, Y/N have been a really friendly and quiet person. Even though he doesn’t talk much, he expressed his emotions using his tail and ears! His ears would twitch in embarrassment, tail wagging in excitement, tail between his legs in worry, guilt, panicked, his tail would be on guard, like a cat, when he’s angry. Of course, his tail would be low if he would be sad.

Everyone in class found him adorable! Like a little puppy! Mineta wouldn’t stop being jealous, saying how he couldn’t believe that all the girls were falling for him! Of course, his statements were ignored by his classmates.

But lately, some of the students had noticed Y/N following around a certain blond…

—

“Stop following me, dragon!” Katsuki yelled out as Y/N tailed behind him. Katsuki was starting to get really annoyed by the dragon-like Nomu boy. Every single day, he had followed the blond to everyone.

Class? He’s right behind him!

Cafeteria? Save Y/N a seat! He’s coming with!

And Katsuki was slowly getting really pissed, always lashing out at Y/N who reacted to it. He didn’t even seem to mind! Every single punch and slap goes unbothered by the Nomu! All he did was stare into Katsuki’s eyes. Katsuki slowly got creeped out, and it’s not common for the blonde to get creeped out by something! But Y/N’s glowing pools of gold-like yellow was giving him shivers down his spine.

He thought, ‘If I continue to ignore him, he’ll leave me alone!’ But he surely thought wrong. Because he got used to the Nomu following him around, considering his wings adjusted and shrinked along with his tail and horns to look less menacing. Even if the blonde didn’t want to admit it, he actually enjoyed having the Nomu following around.

It might’ve even boosted his ego! Having a Nomu following him around made him look powerful- like he just tamed a beast! Even though it was like Y/N had tamed the beast named Katsuki Bakugou.

And slowly, he started to treat the Y/N like a pet. A friend pet, perhaps? Watching the menacing aura that surrounded the poker-faced Nomu follow the tempered blonde around was a rare sight to see. And by now, Katsuki didn’t mind at all!

Sometimes, if he had treats given by some girl or his friends, he would give it to Y/N who happily accepted the treats. Sometimes, if Katsuki was eating chips, he would grab one and offer it to Y/N who ate it out of his hand with a small smile.

And, when the blonde was bored, and out of curiosity, he would give Y/N head pats. It could be anywhere! In class? The black haired Nomu would sit beside Katsuki on the ground and the blonde would pat his head during class. The Nomu’s hair wasn’t exactly the smoothest, it was soft and fluffy when no one helped him with his hair.

And Katsuki, the ever feminist he was (Thank you, Mama Bakugou!) he would braid Y/N’s long hair. It was always a long braided tail that matched his own scaled tail. At the dorms, Katsuki would offer his food to Y/N which distracted him while the blonde braided his hair into a long braided tail.

Everyone was surprised at how calm the blonde was, a total opposite to his tempered side.

But, no one dared to comment and just let the blonde have fun with his new raven-headed friend.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

[magics-neptunes-things]

Use me as a cushion

Hello!

I received some requests for fictions with other people than Ona, so here I am trying with Alexia!

It's fluff, literally pure fluff.

I hope you will like it! As always, the reviews are much appreciated :)

_____________________________________________________________

The situation of the Spanish women’s football team was no longer to be explained. After the forced departures of Vilda and the president of the Federation, the fight was far from over. While you naively thought you were going to have a break, you were all summoned to the national team despite the various statements you made.

Like all the others players of the team, you were forced to show up, participate in a few mediation sessions while following the usual training. You were exausted, all of you.

But you know that your girlfriend is even more than you are.

Alexia, as captain of the team, participated in many more discussions than all of you put together. In addition to everything else, she's the team’s anchor for everyone. The one you can rely on, the one you can count on. And it was true, she takes that role to perfection. Like everything she does, in your opinion (not quite impartial tho).

But over the days, you saw her fatigue increase and her condition deteriorate a little more. You told Ona about it, knowing that your girlfriend trusted her completely and that she wasn’t the type to talk further. You were scared for her, scared that she hurt herself on training because of the level of her tiredness.

Ona advised you to continue doing what you knew how to do best with Alexia, to be there for her and take care of her. Even if you don’t feel like it’s a big deal, you naturally planned a small schedule for Alexia tonight.

So here you are, waiting for you girlfriend to come back from an other discussion with some thinking heads of the Federation. You hate them, all of them.

Your game against Switzerland is in two days and you already are in Sevilla. Even if you're together since like a year, you weren't always set up in the same room. Luckily, Alexia found herself alone in her room, allowing you to join her there without disturbing anyone.

Even if it means you two end up in a single bed. You don't mind tho, having a good reason to sleep on the top of your girlfriend all night long.

Lying on Alexia’s bed, you look again at the time on the screen of your phone while continuing to play the mobile game you downloaded. Sighing, you roll sideways, allowing yourself to smell Alexia’s shampoo on her pillow. It's almost 23:00 and still not any sign fo Alexia. Chewing your lips, you hesitate to send her a message but then you heard the door open quietly.

You sit up immediatly, startled Alexia.

"Madre mia" she huffs with her hand on her heart. "What are you doing here? You should be sleeping"

She frowns while gently scolding you, but you make your way to her to hug her. You smile while she melt in your arms, caressing her back tenderly with your fingertips. Alexia is strong, everybody can see that. Everybody know that. But knowing that she trusts you enough to let it go with you is in your eyes the greatest proof of love she can give you.

"I can't sleep without my goodnight kiss" you point.

She smiles and kiss you softly, but you don't leave anyway. Like you said, you have plans for her.

"Did you eat?" you ask her as she takes off her shoes, dropping them to the ground with a thud.

"Not really" she sights "but it's to late anyway"

You roll your eyes before turning on the table behind you. You ordered a meal an hour ago and asked them to find you something to keep it warm. You were pretty sure that she will come back to late to ask the kitchen to make her something.

"What is it?" she asks, approaching the table with curiosity.

Her face lit up when she lifts the lid and you can’t help but smile back. You promised yourself, if Alexia is everyone’s crutch, you’ll be hers.

"Tortilla de patatas" she smiles.

"Con tomato, as you like. Not sure if it will be as good as your Mama's tho"

You shrugs but Alexia made her way towards you to take you in her arms. The hug was longer than before and you play with her hair for a while.

"Thank you" she whispers in your neck before moving back a few centimeters. "But you really should have sleeping"

You roll your eyes once again, before you made her a little smirk.

"If you insist I can go back sleeping with Claudia"

You were teasing, Alexia knew it. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here with her.

"Not funny" she pouts anyway.

You smile again and point to the plate that has still not been touched.

"Why don't you eat while I run you a bath?"

Alexia seems to think a few moments, hesitating between going to eat or spending some time with you. It’s hard to have moments just for you these last few days.

"With bubbles?"

"With bubbles" you answer, laughing at her baby voice.

Letting her eat, you went to the bathroom and do what you said. Waiting for the tub to be full, you get lost in your thoughts for longs minutes, contemplating the foam mix with the hot water. You were pretty tired yourself, but Alexia goes first. You need to take care of her.

You don’t hear her coming into the room though, making you jump slightly when she passes her arms around your waist. You let her lean into your neck, shivering when you feel her smell you.

"How can I thank you enought Amor?"

You turn around in her arms and put your hands around your neck.

"Your love is more than I can wish for"

The kiss she gives you this time is breathtaking. It's like you can feel the love and the recognition she feels for your actions. When the kiss ends, both of you looking for air, she strokes your nose with hers.

"Come with me?"

"Nah, tonight it's all about you"

She pouts again and you bite your lips. She knows that you can't resist her when she does this. And you know that she knows. And she knows that you know that she knows.

"Come on! If it's for me you can be my personnal cushion?"

You laugh at her antics and just give up. Who could deny this to the love of his life?

"Ok, but only because you will use me as a cushion."

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

Desperation with Steve.

It started out as a funny joke, but something that obviously rang true, given Steve’s intense frustration.

“Someone needs to drain his balls,” Eddie had said with a laugh, pinching the blunt between his fingers and passing it off to Argyle.

“You backed up, bro? Can’t imagine that, you’re pretty handsome. Must have a lotta ladies around here.”

His jaw had tightened, tongue swiping back and forth in his mouth, hands on slim hips. The way that he looked, your brain had already begun to formulate a plan…

~*~

You can’t take it anymore, he’s had it. You’re lifting yourself up from your spot on the throw pillow beside Robin, motioning for Steve to follow you into your kitchen. “C’mon. Popcorn time. Come with me?”

“Yeah, he needs to. Real bitchy lately, that one.” Eddie echoes.

You fix Eddie with a stare, leaving Steve to follow.

You’re a ball of nerves, swaying back and forth on your scuffed, floral linoleum. He meets you moments later, running a hand through his tousled tresses. He’s flushed, flustered, not saying anything yet. You inhale a deep breath, reaching up and tugging beneath your skirt, panties sliding onto the floor around your ankles. He finally takes notice when you whisper his name, holding command in the word. “Steve?”

“What…?” And he doesn’t have time to finish his sentence, looking up to see you watching him beneath a hooded, yet vulnerable gaze. A confidence he’s never seen before flooding your features as you speak next.

“I can help you, if you’ll please let me?” You kick your panties aside, backing yourself towards the counter behind you. “Trust me, it’s okay.”

He bites his bottom lip between his teeth and releases with an, “Oh, fuck.” Before he’s striding across the kitchen floor and colliding with you, dragging you the rest of the way to the counter, his hands behind your knees, your toe leveling into the ground to help him get you seated.

Movements remain stifled and sloppy, one of your legs still near the floor, skirt being rucked around your waist, Steve struggling to fit in the cove where you are, and also your house phone. His eyes are dark, merely mossy shards as they meet your gaze. He grips your cheek, one hand fumbling for his belt, it clattering apart with a noise that you don’t care who hears at this point. He’s still maneuvering, grunting that he can’t, that’s it’s all so much. He needs to be inside, it aches, right down to his toes. His massive hand slaps beside your head, knocking the phone off the receiver, making you lift your other leg to tuck around his tailbone, helping him shove his jeans and boxers down.

And my Christ, it’s big. It looks painful. Wet already.

“You said it’s okay? Yeah?” He brings you back, fingers on your chin, his cheeks flushed pink. You know he’s burning up.

You end up rebuffing his offer to eat you out, settling on stuffing two fingers inside of yourself, in addition to one of his own. He’s shaking by the time you’re done, watching as you try to find something to hold onto. He drapes your hands across his neck’s nape, and presses inside at your insistence. It doesn’t take long before his teeth are gritting and he’s got you clawing his back, whining into his neck, his hips piling you into your counter. When your mouth opens to pant, his tongue lolls out to lick its way inside, kissing you sloppily, lewdly, but with precise expertise.

He thanks you with every thrust, praising how good you feel. And you just let yourself hold onto the back of his head, both legs against his perfect, perky ass, glad that he’s been bound up for months. He redresses you afterwards, cleaning you gently between your thighs, kissing every inch of exposed skin from your shoulder, across your breast, to your neck, all across your face, finally finding your mouth.

The moment that you both stroll back into the living room, poker faces failing, Eddie speaks first. “Where’s the popcorn, guys?”

Argyle beats your return statements. “Congrats, man. From what I heard, you really gave the lady your all.”

And everyone erupts into stoned applause. You and Steve share looks of embarrassment, only for his to turn into a slight smirk. Yeah, you know this won’t be the last time he renders you unable to walk the next day.

[sayruq]

Pakistan:

Strongly condemning Israel's assault on the city of Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip, Pakistan said Monday that Tel Aviv is in violation of measures ordered by the UN's top court last month.

The Maldives:

The Maldives on Monday also strongly condemned Israel's "threats to launch a full-scale invasion" on Rafah city. "The forced displacement and inhumane attacks against innocent Palestinians and the obstruction of humanitarian assistance by the Israeli occupation forces is against international laws and regulations and tantamount to war crimes," the said a Foreign Ministry statement from the capital Male.

Afghanistan:

The interim Taliban administration in Afghanistan also joined the chorus against the Israeli attacks on Rafah. "The continuation of brutality of Zionist forces on Rafah city will cause a major disaster and make the ongoing crisis spiral out," the Foreign Ministry in Kabul said.

China:

China’s Foreign Ministry spokesperson said that Israel’s actions in Rafah harm civilians and violate international law. China opposed and condemned Israel’s Rafah actions and it is closely following the developments in the Rafah area. It further urged Israel to stop its military operation as soon as possible and warned of a ‘serious humanitarian disaster’ if Israel continues its ground offensive in Rafah.

Venezuela:

In a statement, the Venezuelan Foreign Affairs Ministry condemned "the actions taken by the Government of Israel within the framework of the expansion of the military offensive in the Gaza Strip toward Rafah, in the far south. "The statement added that this "Israeli Zionist plan aims to continue implementing its criminal and expansionist policy in this area that is home to more than one million four hundred thousand displaced Palestinians."

[brucewaynehater101]

Okay so I saw you say space emperor Tim gives new planets PowerPoints so …

For his first world the power points are a nightmare. Tim, once a normal school kid, has unfortunately gotten used to Bat slide shows which are 900 pages and contain every piece of information known to man. YJ have become slightly desensitized to the pwr points (they just space out whenever Tim starts) so they don’t think to call him out on his insanity before

Tim sends every citizen a power point explaining ALL of their rights and new social services as his subjects explained in detail (it’s like 500-1000 pages)

In addition to another PowerPoints for any government employees or people with political power explaining what is and is not acceptable for them to do (a healthy bonus 1000-2000 pages)

People are impressed by his enthusiasm, but a little terrified of him because of this

Tim did not mean to terrify his populace with a power point…

He must DO better next time to ensure populous is not terrified…

How do you make a PowerPoint that is not terrifying to the average person but still conveys the necessary information…

Tim doesn’t really know anymore

Cassie is the only one who has any idea what a “normal person” power point looks like (Kon never went to school/only knows scientific “we’re making a clone” power points from imprinted memories + Bart is beyond PowerPoints in the future)

So Cassie and Tim team up to hella compress Tim’s power points into short but meaningful summaries (Bart and Kon still try to help as test audience)

With each planet they add Tim gets better and better at normal people PowerPoints

Repeat leave planet accidentally becomes experiment ground for improving power points (it’s the same info but Tim actually gets a chance to do better at the presentation)

Tim’s PowerPoint eventually become beautiful near works of art that perfectly summarize what people need to know (and tell them where they can get more info if they want it cause Tim still wants desperately to give them every piece of information they could possibly need)

Maybe a planet with a people that respect the art of presenting information/educating others join Tim’s empire because they see his work and just wanna get a great power point presentation too :)

This also accidentally sets him up to be the best ceo/high ranking employee from the Wayne family that WE has ever seen cause for the first time in 40 years someone cares about the wellbeing of the company and can make a normal length presentation (Bruce could never)

With his new PowerPoint skills I also think Tim sends out PowerPoints for anything official news worthy that a planet might have to deal with. It ranges from built a building! to new social service! to new planet yeah! to we’re going to war and everything is going to be fine don’t worry about it! and so many other official statements as PowerPoint presentations oh my

So yeah, PowerPoints :)

Tim Drake, the PowerPoint King.

After he masters the PowerPoints, I'd love to sit through one of them. The "So you've decided to join the Timpire" one would be so intriguing to hear about.

What policies are in place? Rules, regulations, restrictions? What do people need to fill out, add to their planet, get rid of, etc.?

He'd also need to set up webpages with all the information (I hc internet is free everywhere in the timpire... though, idk how the internet and being in space work).

[kaciidubs]

Two Too Much | Spooktober 2023

@goblinracha asked: Shy, cute little Naga!Minho who rather let you grind your cute little cunt along his slit before splitting you open with his cocks. He coos and hisses sweetly as your eyes roll, all while he mocks you

❣ Summary: It was rare for Minho to allow you to engage in anything sexual while he was in his half-serpent form, but, with time came trust, and with trust came experimenting. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 1.2k ❣ Warnings: Naga! Minho [half-human, half-serpent], smut, service dom! Minho, double penetration, mythical anatomy, grinding, praise, degradation, teasing, coming early, implied multiple orgasms ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags:  Minho is referred to as Min and Honey, Reader is referred to as kitten ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Spooktober 2023

“There you go - just like that, little kitten.”

Your heart fluttered at his praise, though the sweet sentiment was caramelized with the heavy lust that thickened the air of the den, merely fueling the hunger between your legs.

It was rare for Minho to allow you to engage in anything sexual while he was in his half-serpent form, choosing to make an equal level of comfort for the both of you and keep the intimate acts only for his full human form - but, with time came trust, and with trust came experimenting.

You straddled him with ease, goosebumps decorating your skin from the sensation of his cool, smooth scales against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs - you had always admired the emerald green color, fawned over the slight holographic reflection from nearby light sources.

Your bare pussy slid against the slit on his front, your own arousal mixing with the lubricant glistening from where his cocks were hidden, the faint bumps from the tips underneath providing a mind melting texture to grind on.

“You’re really into this, hm?” Minho mused softly, his ears practically glowing red from the blush that took over his human half, “I’ve never seen you this worked up before, kitten.”

His hands held your waist, not in the hopes of guiding your hips to change or encourage your pace, but to simply touch you - ground himself in the reality of you still wanting him in this form, you still loving him in this form.

A breathless gasp floated past your lips as you dragged your hips just right, your clit bumping against the slight notch at the top of his slit. “Y-You, ah- You say that like it’s a bad thing, Min.” You looked up from the extension of his torso to catch his loving gaze, noting the cheeky lift of his eyebrow as he waited for your words. “I told you - I love you in any form.”

Minho’s sharp eyes widened, heart fluttering at the earnest tone in your voice, before blinking away his awe and settling back into a bemused expression. “You’re making such a mess - you think you’ll be able to handle me?”

Tucking away the memory of him being effectively flushed by your statement, your head bobbed in a nod, “Always, Min.”

“All of me?”

You were fiercely aware of the prominent presence of his erections, shuffling yourself out of his grasp and back enough to see his cocks slowly reveal themselves; equal in girth with the second being slightly longer than the first, twitching and glistening from his natural arousal in preparation for what was to come.

Though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen his arousal in this state - or, even pleasured him in this state - this was the first time he’d let you take both of him, and you were more than up to the challenge.

In an act to answer his question, you rose onto your knees and crawled back up his lap, hovering over his lengths with bated anticipation; the tip of his first cock bumping against your clit while the second pressed hotly against the curve of your ass.

Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, your fingers welcoming the warmth radiating from him as you lined it up to your dripping entrance. Blinking up at him with sparkling eyes, a fire of determination blazing within your irises, you pouted softly, “Help me?”

A soft grunt escaped him as his hands moved - one going to the swell of your ass cheek, gripping the flesh greedily, while the other went to the shaft of his second dick, guiding the tip to notch against your opening with the first.

His eyes found yours, firm yet caring, grounding you for a moment, “Are you ready?”

You shook your head in a short nod, “More than ready.” 

Double penetration was something you were no stranger to, and thanks to Minho’s openness of indulging in your interests - and subsequently adding them to his own colorful list - you were readily prepared for what you’d wanted to do since you’d seen this form.

The stretch was slow, overwhelming in more ways than one as each cock stretched your walls when you sank down - grounded by the warmth of his hand on your hip. 

“That’s it - big stretch, hm?” He hissed, lips parted, revealing the sharp point of his fangs. “Fuck, taking me so well, look at you.”

Your pussy fluttered, both to your delight and dismay - squeezing his cocks against every sweet spot within you and coaxing your orgasm closer than you anticipated. A low moan fluttered past your lips as you shivered in his hold, eyes slipping shut as you tried your best to focus on bottoming out at the very least.

Working past the dizzying stretch of the widest parts of his dicks, you soon found yourself sitting flush against his lap just as before, now mind numbingly full and absolutely swimming in endorphins.

“M-Min,” you keened, head lolling forward, heavy pants escaping you, “honey, please.”

It was too much and not enough, the greed of lust begging you to start riding him while the overstimulation of your cunt cried for release.

Minho shivered, sharp eyes watching as you sat before him, taut as a bowstring waiting for him to pluck - and pluck he would.

His second hand mirrored his first on your hip, squeezing the flesh generously, “My needy kitten, asking for me to fill you like this yet you still can’t do anything for yourself.” Pulling you further against him, he dragged your hips forward and back as if you were nothing but a toy for him to use. “Maybe next time you’ll learn how to take me like this further, how’s that sound?”

Your hands flew to his forearms, blunt nails pressing crescents into the fair skin as he rocked you back and forth, the stimulation being more than enough to lead you closer and closer to your climax. “Y-Yes, sounds good, Min - s-so good!”

“I’ll teach you how to take my cocks, no more of that stupid toy, doesn’t even compare to the real thing, isn’t that right?” He goaded, rocking you faster against him, keen ears picking up on the lewd sound of your sopping pussy squelching with each movement.

A breathless sound of agreement floated through you as you nodded rapidly, staring at him with glossy eyes - eyebrows pinched slightly and lips parted with short whimpers. “Mm, n-needed this, needed you, ah- please.”

His hips rolled, sending the ribbed tips of his cocks grazing against your g-spot that had your back arching near demonically - your orgasm suddenly tearing through your body with much less of a warning to you.

Your vision went black, searing white heat shooting through your veins as your ears rang and breath stopped, your pussy throbbing rhythmically around his lengths in hopes of taking him over with you.

Eventually, you came down from the unexpected orgasm with a whine, the slick of your cum merely making everything between your legs that much hotter and slipperier; when your vision came back to you through dots of black, you were met with brown eyes sizing you up as if you were his next meal.

Hell, you were close enough.

Minho let out a slow breath, his tongue peeking out to lick the corner of his mouth, “That’s one.” He hummed, a sly smirk working its way onto his lips, “A bit fast, but that’s okay - let’s show you how it feels to ride me, shall we?”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, 

✧. ┊Kinktober only: @selicua

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[kutputli]

Louis the "Pimp": A Rebuke and Rebuttal

OK, IWTV fandom, I have been made aware that some (many) of you are genuinely not aware of some of the anti sex work implications of your statements around Louis and pimping, so -

First of all, some ground level assumptions: I am assuming we are all pro sex workers here. Which means that we all believe in the right for adults to consent to commercial sexualised labour, and to demand ethical working conditions just like any other worker. Sex work is work etc.

Now, that stance can and must coexist with the acknowledgement that sex work has both historically and currently been coerced from marginalised communities. In my part of the world, hereditary caste based sexual enslavement is an on-going atrocity, and similarly, in the United States Black enslaved people was disproportionatey victims of commercialised sexual abuse. (This is RELEVENT to Armand and Louis so it behoves everyone to inform themselves about these realities.)

What I'm saying now comes from the scholarship and testimonies of sex workers themselves, who have always been at the forefront of advocating for themselves as communities and unions. You can and should read through the publications of the Global Network of Sex Work Projects to ground yourself in these perspectives.

The idea that its ok to be a sex worker, but that a client or a pimp or a brothel owner deserves contempt, shaming or derison is an old one, associated with the dichotomy of pitable fallen women vs dispicable emasculated men (emasculated because of the patriarchal shame of a) paying for sex and b) living off of a woman's labour). This has manifested in what is known as the Nordic model (or, hypocritically, the Equality Model) of Prostitution, where sex workers themselves are deemed nominally free to practise their trade, but clients and third parties (pimps, managers, brothel owners) are criminalised. There is unambiguous peer-reviewed data showing the failure of this approach to protecting sex workers from harm, and almost every sex worker union has denounced it.

So now let's talk about this cultural and legal contempt and criminalisation of the third party, and specifically, the pimp figure. Unlike the brothel owner, the pimp is more often from a similar class and identity as the sex worker, often sharing the same living and working spaces. Pimps are often sex workers allies and collegeaues. They provide an interface between the client and the sex worker that can help screen them for safety and security, and the remove the additional burden of soliciting and marketing from the sex worker's labour.

And because it is important to talk about specifics, a pimp in marginalised communities of sex workers is often a brother, a father, or a lover to the sex worker who faces the same casteism, racism and classism that she does. He is often the father of the sex worker's child. In India, for example, even though prostitution itself is not criminal, any adult male living with a prostitute is assumed to be guilty of being a pimp unless he can prove otherwise, and can face imprisonment of up to 2 years with a fine. One of the demands of unionised sex workers, including those in India, has been to decriminalised pimping along with sex work, not just because pimps make it safer and easier for sex workers to get clients without having to actively solicit, but also because such criminalisation actively harms family units.

Of course, there are pimps who can be abusive and exploitative. This is true of any professional relationship, and this is also true of people in romantic and sexual relationships (like marriage). But to deem a pimp inherently as an abuser carries a lot of anti sex work and racist and classist baggage with it.

Why racist (and classist and casteist etc)? Because the men with capital were (and are) not often pimps. They are landlords and investors, who ran brothels and saloons and massage parlours and dance bars and other sites where sexual labour was commercialised. To denigrate a man for being a pimp as somehow worse than being the owner of a sweatshop or farm is a way of jeering at the men who have not been able to buy themselves the luxury of distance from the exploitation they profit from. And the men of capital were and are, overwhelmingly, those from the dominant identity (White. Savarna. etc.)

So NOW, with all that necessary context in mind, let's talk about Louis and what it means when fandom firstly calls him a pimp, and then second sneers at him for his perceived behavior as one.

You know who first calls Louis a pimp?

Daniel Molloy, a white man being the brash, confrontational journalist that he has the luxury of being.

Louis accurately describes his profession managing and operating a diversified portfolio of entireprises. This translates to investing his family's sizeable trust into real estate (he owns 8 out of 24 buildings on Liberty Street) and running establishments that make money from selling liquor, organised gambling and sex work. Just as not many Black men would have been in a position of power to make a profit from a sugar plantation as Louis' great grandfather did, not many Black men would have had the capital (and the business acumen) to own and operate a series of businesses that included sex work. Infact we see him collecting his profits from a white man who was closer to the pimp role - Finn.

Reducing this to calling him a pimp is the first of many racist microaggressions we will watch Daniel make. As someone who indulged in some kind of sex work himself, one might say some of Daniel's hostility is self-loathing. Nonetheless, there is a racialised element in his contempt towards both Louis and Armand that, I would theorise, comes from the distinction made between a white, educated man choosing to recreationally whore himself for drugs, and a Black man who earned a living from other people's sex work, or a Brown man who is perceived as a rent boy.

We then get to the idea of denigrating Louis' pimp-like behavior. First of all, let's look at Louis as the employer and manager of sex workers. Everything we have seen about him shows him to be courteous, considerate, and professional. His guilt at the entire situation of how sex work operates aside (and we can agree that it must have been exploitative and even abusive in general, and that he was complicit in such a system, as any capitalist is) - MOST importantly, we never see Louis doing the thing that patriarchy really resents a pimp for - sampling the goods for free. We never see him use his power over the sex workers he employs to get favours.

In fact he makes it clear that he visits Miss Lily precisely because she is part of a different establishment, and that both of them being Black in a majority white situation places them on a more equal footing. Watching Louis with Miss Lily, both is how he is with her sexually as well as socially, gives you the clearest evidence of how he behaves around sex workers he is having a relationship with. (Contrast that to Lestat, who buys her time and body as an act of one-upmanship with no concern for her preference, and then who kills her out of jealousy.)

So - Was Louis a pimp? No. Was Louis an abusive pimp? Also No.

Then why does the fandom continue to deploy this term in relationship to him?

It's racism, your honour. (The answer is almost always racism.)

To unpack this, lets jump forward from the 1910s where, again I remind you - very very few Black men in the United States were in any position to operate as fashionable brother owners with wealth to spare.

We now move to the 1980s, when one (but not the only!) sub-genre of rap was evolving - gangsta rap. In this sub-genre, Black musical artists like Too Short and Ice T were creating and more pertinently making accessible to white America, the signifier of the Black pimp figure. This drew from 1960s Black culture-making around West Coast pimps like Iceberg Slim, but also from an older storytelling tradition that linked the figure of the pimp with the archetype of the trickster. I'm not going to cite the wealth of literature you can find that theorises this, (nor defensively provide the mass of nuanced critique that Black feminists have offered) because the limited point I wish to make is -

When white America began enjoying (and appropriating) rap and hip-hop culture, one of the tropes it started perpetuating with the shallowest of understanding of its origins, was that of the specifically Black pimp. A figure who displayed wealth, but without (white-signifying) class, who was sexually active in a racialised hypermasculine way, but both a threat to women and contemptibly a leech off them.

THIS is the pimp archetype that is being evoked when fandom talks about Louis's 'pimp'ness.

It is racist. It is ahistorical and canonically unfactual.

It is also needlessly contemptuous of the sex workers (labourers and third parties alike) who are part of the community here on tumblr, so often praised as one of the spaces that is friendly to them.

Maybe think about all of that the next time you choose to use the word 'pimp'.