#and I hate you if you continue to support it

[juneboba]

trump threatened to have tiktok banned in 2020 as it's the only platform where leftist voices go viral—especially today after meta's takedown of fact checking and even more lax rules on hate speech, biden said he didn't want it to be banned, all legislators who voted in support of the ban now have stocks in meta, tiktok paid for trump's campaign and inauguration party, and trump is gonna come into office as a savior pretender by unbanning the app to gain favor from the public. tiktok is deeper in the pockets of us right-wing fascists. i want people who rely on tiktok for a living to have that back but also remember not to fall for any of these stunts—remember how all of this even got started. also, you can use a vpn to continue use: learn here.

Just in case any of you are confused, TikTok being banned and coming back not even 24 hours later with a giant "we thank President Trump" message is NOT a win. It's a huge red flag and a sign that this was a thousand percent planned.

[megamindsecretlair]

hey i just need something real nasty between husband and wife with mr.aaron (i say it key and peele😂😂) with some angst before the actual plot🤭

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive, beautiful.

Made You Fall For Me

Pairing: Husband!Terry Richmond x Wife!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem and male receiving), PIV, oral (female receiving), Reader is able to be picked up, use of pet names, angst. Mentions of death of a loved one, trauma. All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: It had been two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death and Terry still beat himself up over it. Tired of Terry not letting you in, you join him in the shower and show him that he has a life to lead right here and now with you. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog

Word Count: 5,371k

AO3 Link

A/N: Thank you so much for dealing with my hiatus. I'm stronger mentally than I have ever been. Definitely worked on myself and stopped being so hard on myself. The kind asks really helped me find my way back, so have this smutty fic as a giant thank you! Thank you so much for all your continued support! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Terry sighed as he entered the bedroom. You looked up from your phone to watch your husband. 

His tall frame moved fluidly around the space, taking off of his pants and his shirt. It was soaked through having just finished at the gym. He sat on the edge of the bed to fling off his socks and toss it in the knit hamper. 

“Hey babe,” you said. 

“Hey baby,” Terry sighed.

You stared at the back of his head as his shoulders drooped the longer he sat on the bed. He looked so…dejected. Like someone sucked the air from his tires. You leaned up and let your powder blue throw blanket fall from your shoulders.

This was the second week in a row that your husband was still in this funk. Two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death where it seemed like Terry relived it all over again. It started with a dream, the very moment he ran into the hospital carrying Summer. Hopped up on adrenaline, a bullet in his shoulder, and him looking for the next threat. 

Then he would slowly withdraw mentally, checking out of conversations. Floating through the motions of going to work and getting back home. You were worried that he would get into an accident but he was able to operate on auto-pilot, navigating the world just as he normally would. 

It was both sad and amazing that he was able to do so. But this wasn’t your husband. This was a guilt ridden man who sometimes realized that he had no family. You were his family, of course, but he had no living blood relative alive. Mike was his one and only connection and that was severed by hate and pride. 

“Baby, will you please talk to me?” You asked. You fiddled with the edge of your phone. He wasn’t facing you, but you were still nervous to look at his face. You didn’t know which would be worse. Hearing you and choosing not to speak or not hearing you at all because he was lost somewhere you couldn’t reach?  

“I-I’m trying,” he said. He tilted his head to the side. You longed to comfort him, hold him, console him in some way. But every time you reached out, he would stare at you as if he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel you. 

You didn’t know how to help him through this. You’ve lost people, sure, but you always had enough family and friends to fall back on. You didn’t know what it was like for him and he was too stubborn to let you take some of his pain. 

You moved forward and crawled on the bed towards him. He stiffened as you got closer and you wrapped your arms around him anyway. You held on and placed your hand over his heart. It beat rapidly beneath your fingers and you inwardly sighed in relief. He was still in there. His heart still beat.

“You have to stop beating yourself up about this. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself forever,” you said. You kissed his back and rested your cheek on his skin. He was always so warm, like your own personal fire pit. But due to the sweat, he was cold and clammy. 

“I was supposed to protect him. That was my one and only job,” Terry said. 

“You were supposed to love him. But what happened was out of your control,” you said. 

Terry sighed and stood up, breaking your embrace. He hung his head as he walked to the bathroom. The door closed decisively and you flinched from the harsh sound. The light turned on underneath the doorway. The shower turned on and you didn’t hear anything further. 

Some days you wanted to knock your husband’s teeth in. His overprotective instincts went into hyperdrive, past the point of what was healthy. He refused to think of himself and the consequence be damned. Other times, you just wanted to wrap him in a floofy blanket and never let him out of your sight. You couldn’t very well fault him for wanting to keep you safe when you were the exact same way. 

But this…it varied on when he’d be able to pull himself out of this. Sometimes you’d say or do something to bring him back. Sometimes he’d take a deep breath and release that dark cloud. And sometimes, he’d disappear for a whole day and return back to the sweet, loving man you married. 

But fuck this. You missed your husband. And you were tired of seeing him walk around like a zombie. You got out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom.

Steam rushed out and passed over your exposed skin. You closed the door behind you and noted the discarded underwear on the floor and a red towel on the edge of the sink. Terry’s silhouette moved just behind the foggy glass doors. 

You quickly stripped, flinging your lavender sleep set to the ground with his briefs. You stuffed your bonnet beneath a shower cap and slid the glass doors back. Terry looked over his shoulder at you and you entered the spacious shower behind him. 

The custom shower with tiles painted in different shades of brown was roomy enough for about three people comfortably if they were all intimate. Water cascaded down from a waterfall shower head, pouring down over Terry’s strong body. Water dripped from the edge of his wide nose, his full lips, and his well-defined chest. You followed the trail of water down his belly and over his long, thick dick. Water fell down in his long legs and huge feet. 

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m taking a shower,” you said. You shoved past him and grabbed your wash cloth, pulling it under the spray of water to get it wet. 

Terry huffed. “Had to be now?” He asked.

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘P’. Instead of grabbing your favorite soap, you grabbed his and lathered up the wash cloth. 

“C’mon,” Terry said. He tugged on your arm for you to turn around. 

You did so and slapped the wash cloth against his chest. “I miss you,” you said, cutting off whatever he was about to say. He closed his mouth and grimaced, jaw flexing. 

You flattened both of your hands against his chest and stepped closer. Water hit your back at a lukewarm temperature. You had no clue how he could shower like this but that wasn’t the point. “I miss my husband and I need you to come back, right now,” you said. 

Terry closed his eyes and his long eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. His mouth worked like he wanted to say something but the words never came. Whatever he wanted to say lodged in his throat and he couldn’t choke it out.

“So after this shower, you better step out of it and remember that you did everything right for Mike. And he made his own choices. That’s not your fault. It has never been your fault. And it’s time you accept that,” you said. 

You moved the wash cloth over his skin, scrubbing him down. Soap transferred to his body in thick suds, falling down his skin. He watched you and shut his mouth as you scrubbed him all over his chest and moved on to his arms. 

His eyes never left yours as you massaged the cloth between his fingers. He sighed and hummed as you found tense spots. You rubbed him deeper in those areas, working out the tension. 

You maneuvered behind him so he could rinse and then washed his back, creating big circles of soap. You moved down to his ass, teasing him a bit. He grunted and then chuckled. Well, that was a good sign. If he was chuckling then at least he was starting to relax. 

You washed down his legs, tickling him in areas. He danced out of your way and you warned him to be careful in this slippery ass shower.

“If you die, I’ll bring you back and kill you again,” you warned.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and smirked. 

You worked your way back to his front. His dick twitched and bobbed in your face. You looked up at him and his head was tilted to the side as he looked down at you. Fuck, he was pretty like this. Above you, staring at you, and in all his naked glory.

He needed to walk around like this more often. For your eyes only. That beautiful male body needed to be on display 24/7. 

You looked at his dick and then slowly dragged your eyes up his body and back to his striking ocean eyes. He took in a deep breath as his mouth curved upward. The rise and fall of his chest had an answering throb in your clit. You dropped to your knees on the hard flooring but it barely registered in your mind. 

Your husband worked his way back to you in the best way you both knew how. Sex was everything to the both of you. The one way you knew you were on solid ground. From the moment you two met, it had been electric and consuming. Always finding ways to touch each other or be near each other and breathe each other’s air. 

You dragged the wash cloth over his dick. At the first press of your hand, he hissed and jerked his hips towards you. You steadied your left hand on his hip and then stroked him with your right. 

He lifted his head towards the showerhead and let the water run down his face. Since he leaned back, water fell on top of your head and face but you kept looking towards him and the look on his face. 

He was hands down the most beautiful man you had ever met. And the kindest. He wasn’t always nice. He had more than enough words to say about folks that crossed him. But he was always kind, always treated people with respect. And he was a gentleman on top of it. Always opened your doors, always stood on the side of the street closest to danger. Every day, you found new ways to fall in love with your man. You only wished he’d forgive himself. 

“I love you. And I miss you. I need you to come back,” you told him. You increased the pressure, giving him long, slow strokes. All the way down to his base, squeezed, and then worked your way back to his tip. 

He groaned and rolled his neck, moving his hips. Your pussy throbbed seeing cum leak from his tip. He leaned one hand on the side of the shower, fingers pushing into the grooves. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have to let me in when things get dark, Terry. I don’t like feeling like I’m on the outside,” you told him.

Terry nodded his head and his eyes turned darker. But he didn’t look so far away now. His eyes were clearer, more present. “I hate feeling like I failed,” he said. His jaw flexed and you matched him stare for stare. 

“You did everything you possibly could. You deserve a life too. Not to punish yourself for the life Mike doesn’t have,” you said. You paused stroking and let the sound of the shower fill the room. 

Steam rose to the ceiling in wispy clouds. Soap and water rushed down Terry’s body. His chest rose and fell in heaving sighs but then evened out. Once his breathing returned to normal, you began stroking him again.

He groaned and dropped his head as you increased your strokes. You watched his face and watched the emotions play across his features. His lush lips parted and he moaned, deeply and guttural. “I’m gonna bust,” he moaned.

“Give it to me,” you whispered, just loud enough to be heard above the spray of water. You kept your same pace and three strokes later, Terry’s dick throbbed and his cum splashed onto your neck and titties. 

Terry’s moans were sweet music to your ears. You grinned evilly and kept stroking. He jerked and stuttered with chuckles and reached out to still your hands. He huffed and chuckled, giving you a saucy wink. 

He pulled you up by your arms and crushed his lips to yours as soon as you were within reach. He grabbed the cloth from your hands and hung it on the lip of the shower door. He cupped your neck in both hands and angled your face to meet his rough kisses. You moaned into his mouth. You missed this. You missed him. So damn badly.

The ache in your chest finally lifted now that your man was back. He healed and soothed with every kiss, every swipe of his tongue, every caress of his thumb on your wet skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he harshly whispered between kisses. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered back.

Terry pulled back and looked into your eyes. He narrowed his and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I will call and get help later today. There’s no excuse for how I’ve been acting. You deserve better from me,” he said.

You tilted your head and kissed his wrist. “I do. But I also know we’re in this for life. So I need you to let me in more,” you said.

Terry nodded. “I promise. Thank you, for sticking with me through this shit,” he said.

“That’s what wives are for,” you said with a giggle. 

Terry took a deep breath and then a mischievous gleam made his hazel eyes twinkle. A smirk curved his lips and he began to massage your neck. You hummed and your eyes drooped. “Husbands are for protecting you and taking care of you, right?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said slowly, eyeing him. He was up to something…

Terry flipped you around and pressed your chest against the glass shower doors. You cried out from the sudden cold on your nipples as he pushed until your titties flattened against the doors. He kicked your legs wider to spread for him and your body shivered from his casual roughness. 

“T-Terry,” you sighed. 

Terry locked your arms behind you, hooking his arm around your elbows so that you were unable to move. Terry licked the shell of your ear and you shuddered. He slipped his free hand around your throat to pull your neck back and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna make up for my bullshit,” he promised with heat laced through every syllable. 

“Terry, you don’t–”

Terry cut you off by moving his hand from your neck to his dick. He ran the tip through your dripping folds and then plunged inside with a rough thrust. “Oh shit!” You cried out, twisting your hands to try and slow him down. But because he had your arms trapped, you had no choice but to take his dick.

He angled your hips into a more comfortable position and then he slipped his hand back around your throat. He grunted with every deep thrust, filling you up, and making you take it. 

“Too much, too much,” you whined, trying to lean away from him. Terry pushed into you harder, pinning you to the door, while he continued to fuck you. Your forehead leaned on the doors and your breath fogged up the glass with your moans and sighs. 

“You can take it, baby,” he said, sinking you deeper and harder onto his length. He kissed your neck, licked and nibbled in areas, and moved upwards to your ear. “I love you so much. And I know I’ve been an ass. I haven’t been fair to you,” he whispered in your ear while he continued to dig into your guts.

You weren’t quite prepared for him to be so sweet and so nasty all at once. He gave you no time to fully hear his message or fully focus on his dick inside you so you were stuck in a twisted limbo. Suspended between absolute pleasure and your heart swelling with emotions. 

“That ends today, okay? I’ll prove that I’ll do better,” he said. He grunted and cursed under his breath. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned. 

“That’s my job as your husband. And it’s a job I take seriously,” he said. He smiled against your neck and then pulled you into a rough kiss over your shoulder. Your lips danced and played with each other as your orgasm rushed to the surface. 

You began to cry and stutter as it washed over you. Terry moaned as you squeezed around his dick. “Fuck, that’s it,” he panted into your ear. 

When you came down, Terry let your arms go. He slipped out with a grunt and stepped back. You missed the heat of him instantly. He rubbed the feeling back into your arms from having them bent back for so long. He grabbed the discarded wash cloth from the top of the shower and rinsed it out.

He lathered up with his soap and then carefully washed down your back and your ass. His finger slipped between your cheeks to tease as he washed you down and you giggled with him. 

Terry turned you around and washed down your front. Washed the cum from your chest that didn’t rinse off from the water. You smiled at each other, finding your way back with every swipe of the cloth across your titties, your tummy, and down your thighs. He ran the cloth between your legs, careful not to get soap in between, and you moaned just from having his hands on you again.

His lips on yours. His eyes seeing you again after weeks of zoning out. Hints of your husband poked through that barrier he erected and now you were let in behind the wall. You grinned at him and leaned on your toes for a kiss. 

The kiss was meant to be innocent and sweet, just something to show that you loved him. That you were there and never letting him disappear again. But Terry kissed you deeper, grabbing you about the neck once more and crushed his lips to yours. 

His tongue slipped inside and then he gently nibbled on your bottom lip with his teeth. “Terry,” you sighed. Your stomach flipped with desire. Pussy throbbing. Once wasn’t nearly enough. 

“I know,” he said. He lifted your chin and brought you in for a sweet kiss. He deepened the kiss even as he maneuvered you towards the shower wall. He lifted you by the ass to wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Fuck,” you cried out. It never ceased to amaze you that he was so strong. He worked hard in the gym to take care of himself but also to lift every pound you had. He lifted without effort, without strain, and grinned when he caught the look on your face. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Terry said. He stared into your eyes as he pushed back into you. Back into your warm, wet heat and you both groaned as he pushed in slowly, all the way down to the base. 

Your nails dug into his back and shoulders, clutching on for dear life. He was huge and thick. Long. He pulled back and then sank in once more, repeating this over and over to make you feel every last inch of him. Feel his mushroom head push against your soft, spongy walls welcoming him in. 

Your mouth dropped open, needing to release something. A cry, a moan, a word. Nothing came as he stroked into you, increasing with each one. Soon, he was slamming into you. His wet, loud strokes echoed in the tiled shower and your cries soon joined it. 

“You feelin’ me?” He asked. 

You nodded. You adjusted your arms around his neck and he dropped his forehead to yours. 

“Look at me,” he whispered. You locked your eyes with him and it somehow made his strokes even more intense. He throbbed inside you. 

“You feel me. Right here and now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going away again,” he moaned while he stroked. 

“Terry,” you sniffled. 

Fuck, this was all you ever wanted. You didn’t need him to be perfect. You didn’t need him to be a textbook definition of a husband. You just wanted him present and with you. Sharing his pain and his joys. Sickness and health. Better and worse. Those were the vows you swore before a room full of your close friends and family. 

“I feel you. I feel you right here,” you promised. 

Terry switched up his strokes, getting deeper than before and bottoming out. You both groaned and threw your heads back, getting lost in the sensation of him filling you up. Connecting the both of you. As close as you could possibly be to another human being. 

Terry leaned down and kissed you, playing with your lips, even as his hips slammed into you over and over. Pressure built in your belly, making your thighs quake and your arms tremble. “Terry, please, I can’t,” you begged. It was too much. It felt like you were out of control, out of your norm, unrooted. 

Terry only continued exactly what he was doing. “You’re taking me so well, baby. You can keep going,” he said. 

Your eyes swam and your vision turned blurry as you clung to him and came undone on his dick again. Your cries were loud enough to echo and bounce off of the tiled walls and ceiling, giving you a feedback loop of your own pleasure. It amplified your orgasm and you shut your eyes and surrendered to the overwhelming feeling. 

Terry kissed you all over your face, neck, and shoulders. He pumped you into you until his own hips stuttered and shot loads of thick cum into your pussy. You whined and shivered as he fucked his cum deeper and deeper. 

He slowed to a gradual stop and you stayed connected like that while you both recovered. Water still pelted the both of you and you kissed on each other, soaking up the moment. Terry leaned over and turned off the water, still holding you.

He smiled and kissed your lips. He nuzzled your nose. “Missed this,” he said.

“Me too,” you said. You kissed his cheek. 

Terry carefully stepped out of the shower with you still wrapped around him like a spider monkey. You were glad. Because now that you had him back, you weren’t ready to let him go. As if you would keep him here with you by sheer force of will. 

He moved the towel from the edge of the sink and placed you down, slipping out of you. You kissed and loved on each other while he dried the both of you off. Greedy for more, you reached between you to play with his heavy balls. 

Terry groaned and tilted his head down at you. “You sure you wanna do that?” He asked.

You continued fondling his balls, rubbing them between your fingers, and making him moan. His hips canted towards yours and you bit your lip, needing him back inside. Two orgasms weren’t enough. No number would satisfy you. 

“It’s been too long,” you pouted and looked at him. 

He chuckled and kissed you, taking possession of your poked out lip. He suckled on it and you moaned, feeling your pussy respond and ache from just this small action. 

“Get that sexy ass on our bed. Let me clean up in here and I’ll take care of that,” he said. 

You pouted again and whined but he bit your lip. “Now.” He deepened his voice and arched a perfect eyebrow at you. 

You rolled your eyes and his eyebrow lifted higher. You grinned and hopped off the sink. While being punished for your attitude would be fun, you just wanted him right now. No extras, no games. You wanted to enjoy him and enjoy his body. 

He smacked your ass as you walked out and he chuckled after you shrieked and hid your ass behind your hands. You skipped to your bedroom and laid down on your bed. Cool air blew across your damp skin but it wasn’t freezing or uncomfortable.

The temperature was just right to make you hyper aware of your body. Of the feel of your skin and the thorough fucking Terry just gave you. Your pussy was still sensitive but you couldn’t resist teasing your clit. You ran your other hand along your skin, your belly, and your titties. Squeezing your nipple between your fingers and moaning from the dual sensations. 

“Terry…” you called out, drawing out his name. If he didn’t get in here soon, you were about to take matters into your own hands. 

The afternoon sun was setting low, rich oranges and golds slanting through your curtains and casting a warm glow about your room. Most days, you hated that your place faced east and west, but on lazy days like today, it was perfect. 

Terry moved about the bathroom, you had no clue what he was doing. So you closed your eyes and continued to play with yourself. You grew wetter by the second, your mind filling in with images of Terry’s broad chest. His narrow hips. That monster he had between his legs and the unbridled pleasure he managed to provide every single time. 

God, you loved that man. In every which way you were able to get him. You didn’t have the words to convey it but you’d spend the rest of your life trying to find them. 

You moaned as your imagination took over. Replaying what happened in the shower, the look on his face, the fire in his hazel eyes. You sighed as Terry entered the room.

“Oh, you bold,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. 

You didn’t stop though. You spread your legs further and shifted on the bed so that he could get a clearer view. “All warmed up for you,” you teased. 

Terry’s eyes dropped to the core of you, at the way you held your pussy lips open. Your other hand teased around your clit in figure eights, dipping into your pussy every so often to gather up more essence. 

Terry’s tongue swiped out to lick from one side to the other. Your fingers lost their rhythm. “Keep going,” he commanded. 

You whined and started up again but you couldn’t think straight. Not with him leaning against the wall looking at you like you were a five course meal and he was a starving man. When you just couldn’t find that spot again, Terry smirked and walked closer.

“What happened?” He asked.

“You,” you said. 

Terry smirked and took his time kneeling at the edge of the bed. He grabbed your thighs and pressed his thumbs to your inner thighs, massaging them. “Fuck,” you moaned and twisted, trying to close your legs and trap his hands there.

“Naw. Open back up. That’s what you get for trying to handle it yourself,” he said. 

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you,” you said and smirked. Terry lifted an eyebrow but his eyes were still on your throbbing pussy. He had to see how you were clenching around nothing. Clenching and reaching for him. 

He leaned down and kissed your clit. He retreated too quickly for your blood and you whined, pushing your hips back towards his face. 

“I’m still apologizing so I won’t make you beg this time,” he said. Without further ado, he dragged his pink, juicy lips through your folds, hunting for your clit. His tongue darted out and teased, dragging the tip through your folds. His tongue was warm as it flattened against your clit and he licked.

“Fuck!” You screamed out. 

Terry smiled between your legs before getting down to business. He suckled and licked and nibbled while he feasted on your pussy. Your pussy throbbed and ached while he slurped up your essence noisily. 

“Fuck, baby. Right there,” you moaned.

Terry locked in to the spot and swirled his tongue around in tight circles. You clutched to the covers, nails digging in for dear life as you twisted and jerked. You reached down to grab onto the back of his head and push his head deeper. 

Terry placed his hands to your thighs and pinned them to the bed while he ate you out, never stopping for breath. He just ate like a man possessed until you were twitching and crying out on his tongue, reaching your climax in record time.

Terry continued to eat you out through it, whispering into your pussy how perfect and sexy you were. How much he had to make up for. Your throat was scratched raw from all the moaning you were doing, too spent to respond. To tell him that he didn’t have a damn thing to make up for. His pain was valid and he had a right to see it through, but he had to see it through. Not just disappear into his head.

None of that came through. Your vision swam as you looked at the popcorn ceiling, too blissed out to form a coherent sentence. Terry replaced the view of the ceiling, leaning down on his fists, as he smirked at you.

“Still with me?” He asked.

“Always,” you sighed. 

He chuckled as he climbed onto the bed. It dipped beneath his weight, jostling you a bit. His knees pushed your legs on top of his thighs. His eyes sparkled as he slipped into you, meeting no resistance from your pussy.

“Shit,” you grunted. You pushed feebly at his chest. Not necessarily to make him stop, but fuck, you needed time to recover. Time to catch your breath. He stole the motherfucker, the least he could do was let you gain it back.

“Nothing feels better than this,” he said. He sank deeper into you, making you curl into him and squeeze his hips with your legs. He grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head, poking your chest out for his lips to capture your nipples.

He suckled on them, going back and forth between the two, while he fucked into you lazily. Unhurried. Like he managed to pause time long enough to focus on delivering you pleasure. His eyes found yours and he smiled, his dazzling grin turning you stupid and pliant.

He groaned as he felt your body relax and he dug into you, harder, deeper, faster. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” you moaned.

“Cum with me, baby,” he said.

You whined and focused on cumming with him like he said. You could feel him throbbing inside you, close, oh so close. You panted, sweating, legs trembling, back bowing. He leaned to one side so that he could slip his free hand between your legs to play with your clit.

Your moans increased to a near panic as your orgasm came running at his beck and call. You cried out and your squeezing pussy milked him. He moaned and dropped his head as he spilled into you over and over, his body trembling from the force. 

He kissed your cheek but you otherwise laid there and enjoyed the feeling of him crushing you to the bed. Who needed oxygen anyway?

Your stomach rumbled, breaking the beautiful silence after such a powerful moment. You both laughed as it rumbled again. Terry released your hands and you covered your tummy. He pushed your hands away with his chin and then kissed your belly. 

“We’re gonna need another shower and then I need to feed my wife,” he said.

“Feed your wife or feed your wife?” You asked, waggling your eyebrows. You were spent and tired but you could find another round in you for him. Always for him. 

“Both, nasty ass,” he said. He stood up and then pulled you with him to stand as well. He gave you a sweet, tender kiss and promised over and over with both his tongue and his actions that he would become a man worthy of your love. 

The end.

I love you all. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[wijdan309]

Finally, after 470 days, the children will sleep peacefully, and the bombs will stop. A quiet, silent night will pass over the entire Gaza Strip.

This is what it seems to the world, but the reality is completely different.

From this night on, the real pain begins. Families will begin to remember the loved ones they lost in this war. Children will remember their parents who died before their eyes.

Mothers will remember the best moments they spent happily with their families, moments that no longer exist due to the death of their children. The wives will remember their husbands returning to them every day, now brutally murdered before the eyes of the world.

Starting tonight, life will become more difficult for those who have lost parts of their bodies, those who have lost an eye, those who have lost one or both legs, those who have lost their hands, or those who now suffer from complete or partial paralysis. All this will not be shown to you in the media. We are still suffering even after the ceasefire.

Yes, it is a relief that the bloodshed and massacres have stopped, but our suffering continues.

We are still displaced, we are still under siege, and we still need your support.

Our goal is 50,000 euros. Thanks to you, we raised 3,779 euros. This means we have reached 8% of our target.

We have a lot left to reach our goal.

Please contribute and donate. I will be very happy with your generous donation and grateful for your kindness.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #370 )✅️

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[nimuraz]

WORD COUNT — 2.3K

WARNINGS — have you ever tried this one? fingering, pet name usage, sub!jake, hand jobs, cum eating, sex toys (let me know if i missed anything)

NOTES — hii guys thank u for the support on just for now, i will be splitting juno up into 2 parts so stay tuned for the next part! at the end of the fic i did include the pics of the lingerie that u can imagine wearing hehe~

jake was the sweetest man alive. always bringing you flowers, buying you food, being the shoulder you cry on, yes everything about him was so so sweet. even in bed he was so gentle and sweet, you didn’t hate it by any means but you were starting to get bored.

“jakey… can we talk for a sec?” the hesitation in your voice is unmistakable—how on earth are you supposed to tell your sweet, caring boyfriend that you want to go at it like rabbits?

“yea, pretty. what’s up?” he says enthusiastically. somehow that’s making it harder for you.

both of you are on the couch, your legs pulled up to your chest while he sits normally, his hand resting on your knee. as you call out to him once more, the touch makes it even harder for you to find the words.

“in the most normal way possible… do you have anything you’re into? like… i don’t know… any kinks?” you try saying this sweetly. his eyes widen and a soft chuckle escapes his lips.

“mm… i dunno really…” he trails off into thought and to be honest now that he thinks of it he does wanna try some things out.

“i wouldn’t consider them kinks but probably more of like… things i would be down to try?” he says before laughing again softly. his hand on ur knee trailing down to squeeze your thigh.

“let’s hear it!” you say laughing shortly after. his hand on your thigh ignites a fire beneath your skin. ‘this is gonna be a long night’* you think, before offering him a reassuring smile.

“maybe you on top?” he suggests, biting his bottom lip with a smug grin spreading across his face. “want you to be a little rough with me too… tug on my hair, yank me around here and there.” he squeezes your thigh a bit tighter. your glossy eyes meet his, you nod your head softly, encouraging him to continue.

“make me feel good, but also use me, princess.” he whispered before scooting closer to you, his hand now in your inner thigh.

“use you…?” you whisper back. your breath was caught in your chest.

“mhm… do whatever you need to get yourself off, worry about me after.” his voice barely above a whisper. you look at him and smile before putting your legs back down, your feet hitting the floor.

you thought about what jake had said and ever since then you hate to admit it but you were so so needy and per usual, you texted jake.

you: jakeyyy

jake: yes baby?

you: can you come over? pretty pleaseeee

jake: give me like an hour

is that okay?

‘more than okay…’ you thought to yourself. it felt like a lightbulb went off in your head.

you: yea that’s perf muah see u then

jake: see you my love

you hop in the shower and somehow manage to shave everything. once you’re out, you head to your closet, searching for something to wear. yes you wanted to sleep with him, but you definitely didn’t need him struggling to pull down a pair of blue jeans to make it happen.

you sift through all your clothes until you remember—the baby pink lace lingerie you bought a few days ago, still sitting in its packaging. squatting down, you search through the shoe boxes, hoping to find it, and finally, you do.

you unpackaged it and smile to yourself before putting it on. glancing in the mirror your smile widens. you continue getting ready, doing your usual makeup routine and fluffing out your hair.

after what feels like forever, an hour passes, and you finally hear a knock at the door. you quickly put a robe on and walk over to the front door of your apartment.

“jakey!” you say softly before wrapping your around around his shoulders.

“someone’s in a good mood,” he teases, giving you a gentle squeeze in the hug. of course you were in a good mood. you pepper soft kisses all over his face as he closes the door behind him.

he lets out the cutest giggle you’ve ever heard come out of him.

“just missed you…” you say sweetly before dragging him to the couch with you. the quiet background noise of the tv playing a random channel plays as you focus on jake.

“so what’d you wanna do hm?” he says softly as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close to his chest. his other hand running slowly up and down your thigh.

“anything… everything…” you mutter before looking up to him sweetly. you shift, draping your legs over his thighs, so close to settling onto his lap.

the bottom of the robe rides up, bunching up on the top of your thighs, of course this doesn’t go unnoticed by your sweet boyfriend who’s trying so hard to not look.

“mm… wanna watch a movie?” he murmurs softly, his breath catching as you move your free hand to untie your robe, letting it fall open without fully taking it off just yet.

“we can… or we can do something else…” you whisper against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his back.

unbeknownst to both of you, the tv starts cycling through various pop star performances. this hour’s feature is sabrina carpenter, her playful voice and melodies perfectly complementing the atmosphere.

jake runs his slender fingers through your fluffed out hair. “yeah?” he whispers, his eyes locked on your glossy gaze. with one swift move, he pulls you onto his lap, you let out a tiny yelp causing the both of you to laugh softly. he thumbs at your outer thigh gently.

“what do you wanna do, pretty girl…?” he whispers before grazing your neck with his lips. he starts kissing so softly the way he always does. a soft huff escapes your lips before you speak again.

“wanna make you feel good…” your voice barely above a whisper. “wanna have fun with you.” you let out a louder moan as he starts sucking on the skin of your neck. his free hand moves to your shoulders, gently sliding the robe off.

you let him remove the article of clothing, it soon falling to the arm of the couch behind you.

“oh…” he gasps lightly as he looks down at you. the pink lace top lingerie covering just above your soft buds. “you look so pretty… not that you don’t always do just-“

you cut him off, kiss harsh and demanding. an unusual feel to what you both usually do with each other. his eyes flutter open at the sensation before he cups your cheek, deepening the kiss. his eyes slowly start closing again. he lets out a soft hum as you bite his bottom lip.

you pull away and peck his lips before shifting over to straddle him.

“better…” you whisper before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and dipping back down to kiss him again. his hands running up and down your sides gently.

“do you like it…?” you mumble against his lips.

“what? the surprise of you in this skimpy little outfit?” his tone playful. you smile against his lips before kissing him again. he takes this opportunity to rub your hips gently, this sparks an idea in your head too.

you start shifting your hips back and forth gently, a quiet groan tries to release from his lips but they were muffled by your sweet kisses. his grip on your hips tightens before he starts moving you himself, grinding you harder against his aching core.

“bed…” he mumbles against your lips before swiftly lifting the both of you up from the couch. he lays you down on the bed gently before putting his hands back on you.

“so pretty… my perfect girl…” he says in between kisses. you clench around nothing. “s’tied on the sides? how cute…” he starts toying with the ribbons on the side of the lace panties before undoing the knots on one side.

“i wanna try what we talked about.” your words come out in soft pants.

“only if you’re comfortable, angel…” here he goes being the sweetest person alive.

“but i want you to be rough with me too.” you pant once again.

“are you sure?” he gazes up at you. fluffy strands of hair framing his face as he dips down to get closer a better look of you. you nod quickly.

“i also have… toys, we can use.” you hesitantly say. his ears perk up. he nods slowly, taking in what you just said. you tug him back down by his neck, eager for more kisses, and fuck, he can feel you everywhere—your lips on his, your hands digging into his chest, clawing at his shirt, your legs pressing against his. a sweet whimper was all he could let out when you pull away from the kiss.

he pulls you closer by the waist, squeezing the skin that laid on your bones so perfectly, he thought to himself. he leans his body down to suck on your neck, his tongue licking stripes up and down the skin earning a soft moan from you.

“more jae…” jae. it’s what you seemed to only call him during times like this or when you’re sobbing after a long day and he’s there to hold you.

“i’ve got you, baby doll.” and that’s what he calls you.

the soft music from the living room tv drifts into your room as the tension rises. what a coincidence—your favorite sabrina carpenter song, juno, is playing.

he continues his kisses down your neck before untying the other side of the lace panties, his kisses get harsher and hotter. his tongue licking softly at your bottom lip. you instinctively open your lips just enough for him to slip his tongue in, all he could think of was inhaling you. your scent, your taste, the feel of you. he needed it all so deep inside of him. he takes the hand he used to undo the knot and slips the lace covering your bare core to the side before rubbing your clit in soft circles.

you moan into the kiss before trailing your hands up to his nape, tugging on the soft strands just like he told you too. he moans, but not like the moans you’re usually used to. he sounded so spent and needy and all you’ve done was kiss.

he starts rubbing your sensitive bud faster before dipping his fingers down to your soaking hole just to play with your arousal, smearing it back up to your clit.

“baby…” he babbles as you keep tugging on the strands, his fingers working faster against you. you buck your hips up seeking more friction, it just wasn’t enough. he chuckles softly against your lips before biting down on your bottom lip.

“just like that jae— mmh…” you moan out.

“you feel so soft… so perfect…” he murmurs into your lips, craving the warmth, the sounds, the touch—desperate to be consumed by it all.

“check- nngh jae- check the box under my bed…” you manage to whisper out. a soft gasp leaves your lips when he stops his motions.

he dips down next to the bed and reaches for the box, sliding the pink plastic box towards him then up onto the bed.

you smile hazily at him. “open it…” so he does.

dildos, vibrators, a cock ring, and… fuzzy pink handcuffs?

“ooo…” jake playfully says, earning a soft giggle from you. he takes the hand cuffs out and dangles them in front of your face. “so who goes first?”

“you’re asking as if you aren’t dying to go first…” you roll your eyes playfully before sitting up on your elbows to get a better view of him.

“you caught me!” he jokes as he puts his hands up in surrender, a stupid smile on both your faces.

‘this feels so fun…’ you thought to yourself before immediately gasping when his lips meet your collarbones. he nips and nips, your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. never has he ever even thought about leaving hickeys on you, god he always treated you like a porcelain doll during your intimate moments.

he sucks, and nips, and licks, all causing you to grip onto his biceps. he pulls back and looking at the small bruises forming. “pretty.”

you smile softly before sitting upright and taking the cuffs from his hands. you slowly guide him down the bed so he’s laying next to you before you kiss his lips again, the taste of mint and was that mango?* lingering on his tongue.

“off. everything.” you mutter, he wastes no time in removing everything but his boxers. “these too.” you say softly. he nods rapidly before taking his boxers off leaving him completely bare in front of you. you look down at his half hard cock and grin. “lay back.” and again he follows, without hesitation.

you loop the hand cuffs around your bed frame, the clanks of the metals clashing arousing jake up even more, his cock twitching.

“arms up.” you speak firmly, deliberately avoiding eye contact with him. he glances up at you with those endearing eyes, knowing full well that you can't resist him when he looks at you that way. you finally lock the hand cuffs and smile sweetly at him. “just hold still jakey…”

it didn’t take long for you to have jake trembling under you. your hand stroking his aching cock as your lips left marks all over his abs.

“s’too much y/n please-“ a strangled moan leaves his mouth, only motivating you more. you wrap your lips around his red tip, leaking precum and twitching while his veins protrude. it almost looked painful. you chuckle softly around his head, earning a loud groan from him.

“think you can keep being a good boy for me…?” you tease before kissing down his shaft. he pathetically nods his head.

“anything for you please i’ll do anything…” he breathes out, his voice cracking in the process. you release his length and move to the side of the bed, leaning over to get something from your nightstand.

“just relax for me jakey… just wanna make you feel good…” you say reassuringly before lubing up your fingers. “deep breaths baby…”

the sweet whimper that leaves his lips at the feel of you in his walls has you shaking. “y/n holy fuck-“

you start pumping your middle finger in and out of him in a more steady pace before using your other hand to stroke his leaking cock again. he squirms and whimpers beneath you, you gaze up to look at his face— it was enough to have you dripping in your own arousal.

you tighten your fist on his dick and start picking up the pace of both hands. he’s shaking and almost yelling at this point. the hand cuffs creating red marks around his delicate wrists.

“you wanted this jakey didn’t you… you wanted me to play with you and be rough right?” you speak in a gentle tone, a harsh contrast to your actions as you add another finger. he can’t form a response, the words lodged in his throat, refusing to come out.

“s’good…” he babbled. “gonna cum… please i’m so close y/n…” and then he breaks, strings of his release landing on his flexed abs and your soft hand.

you gently remove your fingers from inside him and look up at him before licking up his release that dripped down the side of his waist.

yea this was gonna be a long night.

[syluss-littlecrow]

diet pepsi

<Zayne x fem!reader>

losing all your innocence in Zayne's backseat 💙

where a night drive with Zayne ends up having you him deciding to find ways to amp up the cold temperatures in his backseat.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, car sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, windows get fogged & car seats get hot, based on the song Diet Pepsi, orgasms, breeding kink (r u surprised at this point), fingering

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: here's a little icy treat for the girlies out there. I actually think this song is so delicious, and I just had to use this for Zayne's fic. Enjoy as always, thank you for reading & supporting 💙

You used to dislike the rainy weather because of the way the wetness and humidity would ruin your plans. Not to mention, you hated getting your hair wet.

The monsoon season is still going strong–some days the rain barely letting the sun shine. 

Well, this was one of those days. 

Zayne’s hands are relaxed on your thigh, managing the steering wheel with one hand.

The rain continues to patter on, filling the car with the sound of rain. It's actually relaxing, you think, especially when Zayne is calmly by your side. 

“You're smiley tonight”, Zayne points out, his eyes not leaving the road.

“How would you know?” You tease. “Your eyes are on the road!”

“I just do. Aren't things like that common when you have a partner? I know you well enough, y/n.” 

A soft squeeze to your thigh. 

He doesn't realise how far up his hand is on your thigh and your heart is suddenly fluttering.

So is your pussy.

You pat your cheeks to calm yourself down. There was something about Zayne just driving you through the rain with his hand squeezing your thigh, and how the whole car smells just like him.

“Are you cold? I feel goosebumps all over your thighs”, Zayne points out, his eyes still on the road.

At the red light, he’s able to focus his attention fully on you.

“I'll increase the heating-” he turns to look at you, noticing the pink that's flushed on your cheeks. 

“I'm still cold”, you half-lie.

“We'll drop by to get some heating packs at the convenience store. Bear with it a little longer”, he comforts you, this time taking your hand in his, pressing his lips against the back of your hand, the warmth spreading all over. 

Suddenly you feel greedy. You want him to kiss more places than just the back of your hand.

Zayne parks at the nearest store, ready to open the doors and leave. The car park is practically empty, with some cars sparsely parked. 

He's about to open the car door until your fingers are curled around his tie. 

“Zayne… could we find…other ways to warm up?” 

It takes seconds for Zayne to catch on quickly. 

Zayne watches you crawl to the backseat, the smell of your perfume and the sight of your dress pushing up, just shy of your panties, makes him breathe a little harder.

He pushes his seat forward, then opens the driver's side of the door. 

While his hands loosens his navy tie, he watches you through the backseat window–the way you stare at him while you roll your lace panties off your legs. 

He swallows hard, still trying to keep his strings of rationale intact. But the way you're fucking teasing him like this can only hold him back so much. 

He slams the car door behind him, trapping both of you in the vehicle, his lips immediately devouring yours so desperately. His requests for more come in soft whimpers. Zayne lets his hands wander all over your body, tugging your dress down past your tits, making you gasp at the cold air that hits you.

His lips travel down your neck, each time his lips leave a blazing trail that melts into your skin. 

“It's cold, Zayne”, you mumble, your hands running through his jet black locks.

“And we’ll warm each other up”, he replies. You feel the warmth of his palm travel dangerously down your thigh to your hips. 

His slender fingers travel down south until he feels your warm and wet pulsing cunt. You watch him wet his fingers with his tongue, then back to his favourite spot. His fingers circle around your wet pussy hole, and then his fingers plunge in, sending electric shocks of pleasure through your spine. He curls his fingers in you, watching you in awe, your hips lifting off the car seat, your moans competing with the wet sounds your cunt is making.

"Look at you, already soaking wet", he teases, making sure you hear the way your cunt squelches when he slowly pulls his fingers out, your juices decorating his fingers, glistening under the dim lights. He makes you watch him lick his tainted fingers clean, the taste of you dusting Zayne's cheeks a soft shade of red.

"Zayne, please", your fingers tug against the sleeve of his dress shirt. "It's not enough."

Zayne chuckles, and he pushes your legs further apart. "Of course it isn't. I know your body best, don't I?" He applies pressure on your clit with his thumb, and another jolt of electricity flutters through your spine.

Zayne doesn't waste much time to remove his trousers. Despite his towering height, he's able to smoothly strip himself without hitting his head on the roof of the car. What other skills does this man have?

Well, you didn't have the time to make guesses considering Zayne was demanding your attention on him, leaning in for more greedy kisses. You hear his soft mutters as he's pressing himself against you, edging himself against you with his wet cock.

"I love it when you wear lipstick. It makes me want to ruin it so much."

His tongue feels hot against yours. It's so intoxicatingly good. Was it because it was still raining? Was it because he's about to fuck the lights out of you in his car? Whatever it is--he just feels so fucking good on you.

"I'm gonna enter you now", he says, waiting for you to give the green light. You nod, taking his palm onto your cheek.

Zayne lines himself right at your pussy hole, and he pushes himself into you. His groans sound so pretty when he's getting fucked out like this.

He watches the way his cock slowly stretches you open, trying to fit all of him in. The warmth of your cunt is just sucking him in, so fucking perfect for the rainy weather. 

You're seeing stars. Zayne feels so big and thick in you and you have to remind yourself to fucking breathe. You feel him draw circles on your thighs to soothe you. It works for a second or two, until the feeling of Zayne pushing more of his length in, filling you up completely makes your head spin once more. You're fighting to keep your line of sight clear, but it's tough when your boyfriend is fucking balls deep in your pussy. 

“You're so warm and tight”, he groans, his olive eyes slowly letting go of the last strings of sanity he has left. “It feels so good.” 

Zayne can't get enough–even when you're sprawled beneath him, legs spread open, hair a shriveled mess, lipstick smudged at the corner, and eyes that leak so much lust–you look like a goddess in his eyes, pinned underneath him.

“Zayne”, you whine. He makes him grow thicker in you when he hears you like that for him. “Wait a moment, you're too big–” 

Zayne scrunches his eyebrows when he feels you squeeze him. Fuck, you're really driving him insane. 

He pulls out slightly, his breath hitched at the back of his throat when your creamy load leaks out and pools at the base of his dick. 

Zayne pushes himself in once more, the sounds of you whining like music to him. He thrusts into you over and over again, savouring and eating the moans that leave your lips. 

He pulls back, the greedy slowly clouding his vision when he realises this isn't enough.

Zayne effortlessly shifts you onto his lap, not minding that his cock naturally slipped out for now. His palm is on the back of your head and he’s pulling you in for another round of wet and desperate kisses. Every sigh you pull out from him makes your pussy clench the air uselessly.

Suddenly, the air doesn't feel as cold anymore.

Zayne looks at you with such overflowing desire that it makes him feel dizzy too.

Soft lips latch onto your skin, burning you with pleasure and tease. 

It feels hot and heavenly.

You sigh, fidgeting and tugging his ears playfully. 

“It's…gotten warmer”, you point out, feeling the warmth radiating off the both of you–the small beads of perspiration rolling down your neck to your chest.

“Even better”, Zayne replies, cupping your tits, wetting your nipple with rolls of his tongue, sucking your soft nubs. His eyes lock onto you to lap up your reactions. You're falling apart in the best ways possible. 

He can't get enough of the way your pussy is staining his trousers, rubbing, teasing his thick cock to just enter you again. 

You call out his name over and over, mixed with weak moans and your body trembling with every light tug he does on your nipple. 

When he finally gives you mercy and stops, you watch his smile play on his lips. 

You pout, sliding your thumb across his lips, and watching with shaky breaths when he takes your thumb past his lips, and equally wets it with his tongue.

You dive in, starved to claim his lips as yours once more, sharing the warmth that continues to climb within the confines of the car.

Zayne positions his cock once more, lining it up to your wet pussy hole, and pushes himself in again, drawing gasps and moans when he's filled you to the brim once more. He feels thicker this time.

“So good”, you sigh, your knees shaking from your pussy stretching once more. 

His hand sprawls over your ass, guiding it up and down as he thrusts you from below, still careful that you don't hit the roof of the car.

He shifts himself slightly forward, and you follow suit, letting him hit deeper parts in you more safely. You have your arms wrapped around him, realising it's completely pointless to try to ground yourself with Zayne fucking you stupid like that. 

More wet and lewd sounds start filling the car. You hear his voice right at your ear.

“I love it so much when your tight pussy makes such pretty sounds for me.” 

He pins your thighs down, forcing you to take every thrust he gives you. It gives him access to hit your sensitive spongy spot. It makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back. You bite your lip, the muscles in your thighs tensing. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! It feels so fucking good. 

Zayne knows he's hit the sweet spot when you tighten all over him, both in your arms and pussy.

“Let go all over me, y/n”, Zayne’s voice tickles your ears. “You're gonna feel so good.”

The repetition of Zayne perfectly hitting your spot makes you sob. The knot in your stomach snaps, and your thighs shake, your orgasm washing over you in waves, your vision going white. 

You're in fucking heaven.

“So good. I'm cumming so much, Zayne”, you sob. Zayne isn't letting your orgasm go just yet.

He leaves another mark on your shoulder, taking in a deep inhale of the perfume that's struggling to stay on your skin.

“I'm gonna make a whole mess in you, darling.” 

For a man as calm and collected as Zayne, the way he fucks you is nasty and disrespectful.

And you love every fucking bit of it.

He peppers kisses all over your neck and shoulders, turning them into bites when you feel his cock pulse, then warm and thick cum fills your whole pussy up.

“That's it. Take all of it. That's my good girl.”

While you catch your breath, you notice the fog on the car windows. You're not sure if the rain stopped or not. All you're sure of is that your mind is slowly getting broken by Zayne–every bit of it belonging to him, and that every time he fucks you from below, it makes you shiver from the sheer pleasure.

You feel Zayne suck your neck once more and the pleasure sends shivers down your body.

“Don't get distracted, darling”, his gentle voice luring you back to him.

He fits his cum-covered cock right into you again–nothing more than a stronger indicator that he's not done yet. It elicits another choked moan out of you. His grip is harder on you now. 

“Say my name. Louder.”

Damn. The temperature really went up. 

[dj-of-the-coven]

“Unable to slot Jews into a clearly defined role within their political agenda, most of the left tended historically to regard them with considerable ambivalence, and, in some cases, extreme hostility. While supporting universal human rights, the left never saw antisemitism as a primary concern. Instead, it was a secondary issue (if an issue at all) that would be resolved as a side effect of the general social liberation that the left was pursuing. Intrinsic to this approach is the view that Jewish particularity is, in itself, a defect to be remedied through assimilation and disappearance. […] Any attempt by Jews to make the struggle against antisemitism into a separate problem deserving of the same passion devoted to other progressive causes was rejected as a diversion from the main issues that animate the left.”

- The New Antisemitism, Shalom Lappin

On Antisemitism: An Open Plea.

Over the course of 2024, I was physically assaulted for being a Jew three times: once by a man waiting outside the JCC, and twice while working the desk at an anarchist bookstore.

All three of these attacks were done by men, all almost immediately after identifying me as a Jew. One of my assaulters, a white man with scruffy facial hair and a bucket hat, clearly identified as some kind of Christian—he wore three cross necklaces and a blue shirt with the Virgin Mary on the front. One man was black, wearing pressed slacks and dark leather dress shoes. One man was college-aged, white, wearing a band hoodie and jeans. Two of the encounters were one-off incidents, whereas the Christian man searched for me multiple times at the bookstore while I was not present. I am a fairly large person, and one with a lot of combat training, so I was lucky that none of these incidents resulted in the worst possible outcomes for an early-20s woman confronted alone after dark. Many people are not so lucky when they are put in my place. Particularly Jewish women.

And as a quick aside, people don’t tend to take the Jewish part of “Jewish woman” seriously. When I add this comment to the story, a lot of people scoff. I can somewhat understand why; despite the curls, if you were to look at me, you might think, “How did they even know you were Jewish?”. For two of these men (the ones who didn’t see me coming out of the Jewish Community Center), the answer is fairly simple. When they heard my name, they paused and asked. I don’t like to assume the worst in people, and thus I confirmed, though in the time since I have gotten much sparser with revealing that information to strangers. This is how I know they were attacking me for that reason. When you reveal yourself to be a Jew, or are recognized against the odds, things can often become unsavory quickly.

Any leftist worth their salt would call these attacks against me unconscionable—I doubt that most would be willing to defend this behavior—but make no mistake. None of the men who attacked me were acting out some kind of exception to a rule, nor was I particularly surprised that these incidents all occurred in or around spaces that should be safe for Jews. This is the reality that the Jewish people live in. Wherever we are, we can expect a roughly equal reaction from the population, left wing or right wing, and the largest point of difference between the two is whether they will call you “Zio” or “Kike” before grabbing you by the collar.

I was attacked only three times last year. Yet, countless more times I have watched the people in my communities ignore the rhetoric that led to these attacks, wave them off as radicals, as zealots unrepresentative of their peers, and continue to live their lives as if these incidents don’t happen regularly.

This is a major problem on the left.

Yes—the left.

The American right-wing is axiomatically predisposed to this type of behavior. If they aren’t the ones committingthe hate crimes, then they are often the ones most comforted by them, affirmed that their goal of a pure-white America is one step closer to being attained. It’s never surprising for a Jew to encounter a conservative with just one or two comments to make about us being “good with money”, “owning the banks”, “controlling the media”, and other examples of kindergarten-level political opinions. On the other hand, one wouldn’t automatically assume that a leftist would hold such opinions. Being opposed to race-based and religion-based discrimination, it would be a bit counter-intuitive for leftists to say such things about Jews. Wouldn’t it?

You would be surprised.

If there’s anything that the last year has taught me, it’s that the left is much more susceptible to antisemitism than ever previously understood, despite its long history within progressive social movements. So long as you stipulate “Israeli” and/or “Zionist” before saying the word “Jews”, any and all manner of violent hate speech can be considered revolutionary sentiment: I have seen fellow leftists call Jews, not just "Zionists", inhuman, bloodthirsty, real-life monsters, scum, vermin, pollutants; capitalist pigs and agents of genocide; a fake people with a fake identity and a fake claim to safety and dignity. And pointing this out will net you with a number of other responses, questions of whether you support the actions of the Israeli government, as if the point of the discussion was ever about that and not about the antisemitism being lobbed at you in broad daylight. Talks of antisemitism are always shafted into talks about Israel regardless of where in the diaspora you happen to be. Those of us who are staunch leftists, who want nothing but peace and solidarity with Arabs and Muslims—which is a majority of Jews—are pressured into remaining silent about our worsening mental health and safety for the sake of the cause. We’re told to speak later, when the most important voices have spoken first: every ethnic, gender, and sexuality minority first, then maybe the Jews. It was only recently that I realized this mythical “later” will never come.

Largely, Jews just want peace. Jews want safety. Jews want recognition of our suffering, regardless of the actions of a government that might not even be ours, depending on who you’re talking to—but Israeli Jews deserve these things as well. There is nothing wrong with criticizing the Israeli government, but when will goyische leftists realize that Israel’s government, like all governments, is not a true representation of its people? When will goyim realize that it’s not okay to dehumanize Jews, no matter what their political opinion is? When will they finally wake up embarrassed by their own behavior, realizing that my Jewish peers, my cousins, my extended family, my community—all of us are just people who are entitled to the same respect and empathy as any ethnic group in the world? Will they ever learn to recognize their own bigotry? Will they ever see the world from a pair of Jewish eyes?

The answer is, for all intents and purposes, no. But I don’t want to stop trying just because it feels hopeless.

If you are a leftist goy and you’re still reading this, I would like to ask of you only one thing: stop talking and start listening. If you don’t know anything about Jewish history, don’t talk about it. If you know less than four Jewish people, and you keep them at an arm’s length in case they turn out to be “evil baby-killers”, then you shouldn’t mention your Jewish friends. If you believe only Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews count as “real Jews”, you shouldn’t be weighing in on which Jews count as white. If you couldn’t name any Jewish holiday besides Chanukah, you shouldn’t bother to call yourself educated on my people and our traditions. If you believe that the Jewish people, alone among all peoples, deserve to be oppressed for the crimes of a vocal few, then frankly you should not consider yourself a human rights activist at all.

If you are a Jew, all I have to say to you is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to speak up on your behalf; on behalf of all of us. I’m so sorry that everyone is acting like this is fine. I’m sorry that our lives have been shrinking ever-smaller as we’ve been made unsafe in queer spaces, disabled spaces, online communities and real-life ones, spaces that should belong to everyone. I wish I could fix your pain. I hope you’ll accept my attempt to chip away at it.

This is not the first time a Jew has come forward to speak about this, but I hope that adding my voice to the conversation will help at least one more person realize that what has happened to us is wrong. There is no world in which the collective punishment of an entire ethnic group is justified. No matter what Israel has done, no matter what tragedies and injustices have been inflicted on Palestinians by the IDF, there is no world in which this mass-scale vilification of Jews can be called real justice. There is no world in which these means justify the ends. And what ends do you even want to this? For all Israelis to blow up and die? For all Jews to stop practicing our faith? Or do you want the long-proposed answer to the Jewish question—the total annihilation of all Jews from the planet Earth?

Of course not. But if you don’t make an effort to educate yourself on antisemitism, then the answer to that question will make itself known in your mind, and in your heart, before you even know it. There is no genetic difference between you and a Nazi.

[ovaryacted]

The way some of y’all act on this platform like you fucking run shit on here is actually ridiculous. Y’all criticize writers for what they write, how they write, what tropes they use, how frequently they write, what ideas they have, how they manage their pages, and everything else under the damn sun. But yet you still want people to continue writing and share their work FOR FREE may I add. Y’all can’t keep reading fic and picking it apart every which way, you can’t have it both ways. Pick a damn side.

Fanfic writers don’t get paid for doing this, for dealing with the stress of coming up with ideas and writing pages upon pages of something they want to share, formatting the posts, and then sharing it on this platform or an AO3 just to get berated, judged, critiqued, accused, plagiarized, exploited with AI, and ignored. Y’all literally give people everything but support on here and then bitch and cry about nobody wanting to write fanfic anymore. Maybe if you guys grew some fucking sense and supported the writers that are actually here instead of constantly policing their actions and pushing their buttons and jumping down their throats for little ass shit, we’d have more people willing to use their spare time to write fanfic.

Y’all get bold as hell using the anon button, saying whatever y’all want without caring of how it may come off, but god forbid people respond back with just as much vitriol, all of a sudden they’re the bad guy and you’re playing victim. We literally have bigger things to fucking worry about than bullshit anon hate that won’t amount to anything. When you all realize that we soon won’t have a platform to share fic and our writing to begin with because of mass censorship and your favorite fic writers are being targeted for being sex offenders for engaging and creating pornographic material as planned in Project 2025, then maybe we’ll fucking get somewhere.

Let people enjoy this app while we have it, cause trust me, it won’t be long before you all have no more fic to complain about. Maybe when that happens, you can finally use your free time and whatever energy that’s left in your brain to do something useful for once.

[ambeauty]

It should have never had to come to this but the continuous problematic and offensive behavior has persisted. These are just a couple of extremely deplorable things that have been said about these characters and these actors. If you choose to support this person and her platform you are welcome to do that, but I personally do not want to share community with someone who thinks these types of statements are funny, cute, or harmless because they are not. And anyone who supports this type of behavior is complicit in allowing this person to continue to harm members of the fandom.

This was one of my first experiences of her in the fandom. Made a theory that was based upon Ayo’s award season hairstyle. Someone offered more insight into how black hairstyling works and it was quickly dismissed.

This is blatant fetishizing which is assuming that two people should just reproduce because you don’t want them in a loving relationship but think they would have cute children. It’s disgusting and it’s something that was forced upon Black women during slavery and a problematic sentiment that still exists today. Pick up a fucking book.

This is self explanatory. There’s no excuse for this. Again when it comes to a Black woman in a fictional relationship with a White man certain things should not be said. SLAVE should be obvious!

Seeing these things honestly make me sick and the worst part about it is these are just two examples of offensive statements. Yes I do have her blocked because this is the type of shit that I do not have to be subjected to just because we like the same show. After a recent shady/vague post by that person, I went to Afrofairy before I did something like this because I thought 1, if I call out this woman I don’t want it to affect her co-host who actually has been kind and supportive to others and 2, maybe if she hears these things from a friend they will be processed better. And they weren’t. So this is what this has become.

Here’s my messages to her cohost

To me this was a better option than dragging her across tumblr. And unfortunately it still came to that.

I will never go on that podcast. I don’t need to. If you are going to be in fandom spaces with Black people you need to listen to them and protect them otherwise you are actively participating in harmful behavior and the marginalization of people of color within a community that include them.

If you have any personal experiences you want to add to this then please feel free. I don’t want to keep speaking for people who didn’t ask me too🫣

Everyone stay safe. There’s a lot of hateful shit going on in the world today. Protect yourself! I love y’all for real ❤️

[thealogie]

thea sorry in advance for dumping my complicated gomens feelings here 🫡 i hate that the show is going ahead despite the allegations but it seems especially awful that the pratchett estate has not even released a statement about the allegations and the changes to production. the least they could do is say they support the women and will no longer involve gaiman as continue work on a serial rapist's ip. idk. i do sympathise (within limits) with people wanting a proper ending to a beloved show but the way the pratchett estate and main cast is moving forward with the series that did a lot to prop up gaiman's celebrity and reputation and not releasing any statement is infuriating and should be rightfully criticized (and i imagine will be when the movie airs)

Thank you for writing this. I feel almost entirely the same but just haven’t had the energy to engage in show discourse and didn’t think that’s energy well spent. But this is really well put!!!

[crescenthistory]

hi darling carina! all the congratulations and love and hugs to you <3 can i request an explain for this concept — remus and reader with scars !! i thought it was so beautiful and i’d love to hear your thoughts on it :) thank youuu

my lovely lovely san<33 thank you so much darling! big hugs to you too 🤍🤍

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will EXPLAIN this post about remus and reader with scars

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

unfortunately, one of the key aspects of remus is immense self-loathing, specifically for his lycanthropy

i personally wouldn't necessarily call it insecurity, because it is less so about him being uncertain and anxious about his worth and more him being adamant that he is inherently bad

he's not unsure of it, remus knows that he is bad

(as readers, we know of course that he isn't; but this is his belief)

and his scars are the permanent physical manifestations of his affliction, so remus has felt nothing but hatred and shame for them his whole life

some of them were from the night he was attacked, but most were self-inflicted from his many moons where he lacked self-control and adequate care and support

he believes they are "proof" he is a monster

he will try to hide them and make them go away, while simultaneously not wanting to be too gentle with his scars either because he doesn't think he deserves it

scars being scars, any rough treatment will of course only make them more prominent

and so the evil cycle continues

however, as with most of what remus dislikes about himself, he would be confronted with his own mistreatment of himself if he loves someone who is scarred

if reader is also littered in scars in whatever capacity, he would never want to make them inadvertently feel the same shame he does

because you have nothing to be ashamed about?? (remus take your own advice)

there are so many ways to become a rather scarred individual, so this applies to many different readers

these can be scars from accidents, skin conditions, surgeries, mental health struggles, scarification, etc.

the last thing remus wants to do is harm the people he loves, whether that is directly or indirectly

(if your scars are somewhere only visible to a partner and he finds out a bit into your relationship, he would be kicking himself for not having been more sensitive and careful)

so when he is around someone else who is heavily scarred, especially if he loves them as deeply as he would you, he will have to catch himself

he will have to bite back cruel jokes on his own expense, because it will no longer just be his; he will have to quit rubbing them angrily in your presence; he will have to stop verbally or visually equate scars with monsters

to him, you are beautiful through and through

he is able to separate whatever trauma may have led to your scarring from the scars themselves and just see them as decorations on his ethereal partner – this is the point where bells may begin ringing in his head

if you are in a relationship, remus will do his best to help you with your own scar care, applying aloe vera, sunscreen and any specific medical creams you may require

and when you insist on putting some on him too, well, he has never been good at denying you anything

it would be a gradual process, but by loving someone with scars, remus would eventually be made to accept his own

to care for them, to not bash them at every opportunity, to look in the mirror and not see them spelling out "MONSTER" in white lettering

in general, i believe this is how remus begins his self-acceptance and self-love journey – he tries to shield his loved ones

lily hates her freckles? remus has to embrace his own, maybe even compliment them. james is insecure about his laughter? remus will make sure he laughs loud enough for him to not feel alone. sirius thinks his poor relationship with his family makes him unlovable? remus will learn to separate his father's beliefs from who he is and allow himself to be loved

you have scars? remus loves them with the same ferocity he loves you, even if that means being kind to his own

slowly but surely, remus is "tricked" into being kind to himself by being kind to the ones he loves

gods, i love him

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 11.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 0.8k

—chapter content/warnings: not much!! something a lil more tame lol, prob one of the 0.5s that takes place right after the chapter beforehand, i promise there is no ill intention behind what's happening here - they're both equally torn about everything as san's good friends/colleagues

namjoon: you got a minute to meet up today? sorry for the last minute request but it's kinda urgent.

jongho: sure. i'm wrapping up. can meet you in the next 15 mins?

namjoon: i'll come to you.

jongho: alright then, boss.

Jongho continues typing away at his desk, responding to all the emails that came in today while he was off doing interviews for the new open faculty role in the electrical engineering department. He makes a mental note to submit his review sheet for the first round of interviewees and to review the applications for the next round tomorrow. He doesn't realize how quick 15 minutes flies by until Namjoon is swinging his door open mid-email. He continues to type away, but his eyes shift to Namjoon's figure as he fixes his blazer and takes a seat with a loud sigh.

"Long day?" Jongho cracks a small smile, typing up the last few details before sending it off and shifting his attention to Namjoon in front of him.

"Kinda." He nods towards his computer. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt or delay you from leaving."

"All good. Didn't really have plans, anyway. What's up? You seem a little flustered."

"Well, catching Yunho, Iseul and San arguing in a conference room wasn't exactly on my agenda for today."

"What?" Jongho cocks his head back a bit in disbelief, brows tightly knitted together as he tries to make sense of what he just heard. San had been giving him a bit of the story here and there and knowing Iseul, he wasn't exactly surprised this is how things were playing out.

He's just not sure why Iseul thinks it's her business to air this all out.

"You tell me."

"As much as I would love to help, I honestly have no idea what's going on.”

"Jongho."

"What? You know how Iseul is. She somehow still thinks she has a grip on San even after they've divorced and gone through all of that. Can't stand her, if you ask me."

"You don't have to tell me twice. But, why? Why is this a thing right now?"

"Beats me." Jongho tries to brush it off even though he can see the look on Namjoon's face, his eyes trying to study him like a damn book. He hates being in the middle because as much as he loves and supports his bestfriend, he also has the utmost respect for Namjoon and knows the guy will always be on their side regardless.

"That's the first in a very long time that I've seen San react that way at the happy hour event."

"Okay, to be fair, the guy was getting super disrespectful. I think any of us would've reacted in one way or another."

"Right, I agree. But, I know there's a story behind it. I know his anger was fueled by something else." Jongho sees the way Namjoon is going about this. He's prying for the answers he already knows, but he needs the confirmation and Jongho can give him that. 

It's just a matter of when.

"What if it was just a bad day?"

"Okay, you know what?" Joon leans onto the arm rest of the chair and gives him a look. "I'm just gonna go headfirst with it." Jongho cocks a brow up. "Is there something going on with San and his rotation student? Y/N specifically." He sighs.

"I figured."

"No, you knew." Namjoon chuckles a bit.

"I don't know. I really can't tell you because I don't know anything." Jongho says he knows nothing when he knows everything.

"Jongho." Joon repeats.

"Joon, swear." He says, even though he tries to sit as still as possible. Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

It started gradually before it took off completely. Jongho knows about the last minute meetings San has had to take, Jongho has seen the subtle glances, the subtle actions, the mood changes when you're around. Jongho remembers seeing you slip out of his hotel room very early that morning during the NAS conference. Jongho remembers seeing the polaroid slightly tip out of the wallet case mid-breakfast and seeing a tiny slip of your face in his peripherals. San quickly adjusted the polaroid and continued on like nothing, wishing for the best with that one.

And he doesn't have to be told to know you've been over multiple times. All the calls that have gone curt and short, the distraction easily laced in San's voice on the other line. He remembers the faint trace of your perfume in his home, the little post-it notes you've left on San's office desk.

Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

Cause, yes.

"I can hear your thoughts."

Well, shit.

"I don't know what to say."

"I need you to tell me yes or no, that's all. I need to make sure I'm going about this correctly even though I heard a lot today alone." Jongho sighs and sees how torn Namjoon is. They both are. They obviously want what's best for San, and they both want him to be happy. He is deserving of good, genuine love. He is deserving of genuine happiness because he always rides for the people he loves, goes the extra mile for them. He acknowledges and learns from his mistakes, he apologizes when he knows he's at fault.

He's deserving of all good.

So, they both hate that it has to come to this because it's not even you that's the problem. It's the situation, and they both don't know how to approach it with enough sensitivity and care.

Even though it's good to San, it doesn't necessarily mean it could be good for San.

"Yes."

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[mieczyhale]

"punch a nazi" has been around for.. i don't know how long, but for as long as i've been able to say it i've mean it. me saying "i'd punch a nazi" has always meant "i'd punch a nazi". idk what the fuck other people have meant this whole time, since it clearly wasn't actually "i'd punch a nazi", but whatever i guess

in the year of our lord 2025 i continue to support punching nazis fullheartedly for the same reason i've supported it every year prior:: nazis are horrible in general but especially to and about jews, they are a threat to jewish people, and they love to spread lies and hate about - you guessed it - jewish people, and i personally have a big fucking problem with all of that

if you disagree with the concept, or you think nazis have nothing to do with jews (or if you're one of the dumbest fuckers ever who thinks jews and nazis are equal somehow) you can fuck right off. or get in line to be punched i guess. some of y'all are antisemitic enough i wouldn't mind

[llitchilitchi]

blog update? vent? what I wanna do going forward? this is long and ranty

I am not going anywhere, please remain calm :)

so this has been on my mind for the better part of a year now, if not longer. I don't think it's a secret or a shock to anyone that I am barely engaging in mcyt-related fandoms, even more so when it comes to creators. the community has for a large part transformed into something that I don't want to necessarily be a part of.

I am saddened at what has become of the CCs that I liked and found comfort in back during lockdown. I don't want to delve into any of the things that have happened over the last few weeks, much less months and years - I made it a rule for myself to not keep up with "drama" (I genuinely hate the word. a lot of it is pointless bickering and people being stupid and vile over small things that could have been solved privately, or people attacking others for no reason, and those that do not fit under the "people are stupid" umbrella are matters far too serious to be labelled as drama or discourse) and I try to not comment on it much. I can't help the two posts from time to time but the truth is, seeing discourse on my dash for days on end is wearing me down. and it often feels like that is all there is going on anymore.

as of, this is not me denouncing my love for dream and the dream team, or their friends and supporters, much less the fan community around them. there are many kind people who I cherish and I am grateful that they welcomed me in and shared my art and talked to me about it. these comments and conversations mean more to me than you could ever imagine. I've forged friendships here that I never could have dreamed of. I've never felt so comfortable in a fandom before and I don't think I will ever fully leave it behind.

that being said, I also doubt that I will be posting too much about anything mcyt-related. I haven't really been doing anything for the fandom anyways, not really. I enjoy the fan projects, and I am very grateful that I managed to get on the c!Dream zine as an artist, and I am looking forward to sharing that piece with you guys! it's one of my favourites that I've ever done, so look forward to that, and go support the project if you can! but to post only when it's related to projects feels a little insincere.

I am mostly writing this because there were a couple more projects that popped up, and I hesitate to join. not only because my involvement with the fandom is miniscule, but also because I feel a little worn and tired and gross about everything that has gone down. and I dread that by the time I get to actually work on a piece, the exhaustion and resignation will turn into distaste and unwillingness to do anything.

I still want to support artists and writers in the fandom. I will continue reblogging stuff, maybe even post some of my own (I have been itching to do a small illustration for monarchy again, but I've been incredibly busy, so don't get excited), but for the most part I think I'll be slowly turning towards other fandoms and original content. oh yeah, I there are OCs incoming.

I miss this fandom, and the community, and every good thing that came with it, but it does not feel sincere to keep engaging too much. I will likely stick to DSMP for the most part, if I will stay in the fandom at all. the real people around it just make me sad.

I don't have a conclusion to offer. no tl;dr. I wanted to get this off my chest. my feelings about everything going on are complicated at best. there's a yearning to come back and a revulsion at what many of the CCs are doing that keeps me away. a yearning for the excitement and love I felt once. maybe it'll come back. for now I just want things to calm down and if that isn't possible here, I will be minding my own business. so if you see me posting about Things at Inappropriate Times, do know that I simply do not wish to engage in the bad anymore.

[bloodydeanwinchester]

So... I hope to phrase this very delicately because I don't want to seem like I'm dismissing or minimizing how dangerous and horrible JK Rowling is, and I definitely don't support people continuing to contribute money to her in any way, shape, or form! But... I'm also wondering if I'm missing something here about HP fanfic so, I figured it hopefully couldn't hurt to ask... Is there a particular reason why you're against even HP fanfic? Is it just a personal boundary? Are you thinking about the fact that there are also bad stereotypes within the books themselves that can continue to affect the fanfic? (which yeah I've seen when reading fanfic in the past) It's just that... as much as I hate JK Rowling and every word out of her mouth, the HP series---or at least, the headcanons and relationships and messages people interpret from it---still means a lot to so many people, especially, tragically, queer people. Including myself. So, in my view, people can read and write HP fanfic while absolutely not supporting JK Rowling. But I'd like to hear your opinion in a little more detail, if you're okay with sharing that, in case I am not considering something.

so. the biggest thing for me is that by participating in the hp fandom you are helping to keep that fandom popular. that fandom staying popular leads to more people joining the fandom who have no issue spending money that will go to jk rowling. it leads to people who otherwise might have lost interest, staying in the fandom and spending money that goes to her. and the fandom staying popular is what ultimately leads to things like new tv shows and theme parks and merch which not only put money directly into jk rowlings pocket to fund more of her anti trans agenda, but it also helps continue the popularity of that book series. jk rowling doesn’t care if she’s hated so long as she continues to make money and have power.

i used to be a huge harry potter fan and it sucked having to give up a fandom that i grew up with and loved. but trans people’s lives are more important than a fictional book series always. period. she is actively working to spread ideals and pass legislation that will cause trans people to die. participating in that fandom, and in turn helping to keep it alive and making her money, signals to me (and her) that you’re okay with that (whether you personally agree with her or contribute money to her or not).

and if this series saved someones life i think it’s fine to acknowledge that and be happy for that. but i think it’s also important to move on from it now because is IS hurting other people.

[ihrthoney]

for us

pairings: namgyu x preg!reader

warnings: angst & fluff :p

an: i started my first big girl job but im motivated so ill try to post more :)! i haven’t posted in a minute and i hate pregnancy tropes but i make the exception for squid games lol. i will make a part two!

nam-gyu was many things, an addict, a partier, an idiot and a sweetheart. the sweetest ever, actually.

unfortunately for you you worked at club pentagon, which is how you met the physical embodiment of an acid trip.

who he was when he was sober was something you cherished and kept close to your heart. it wasn’t hard to weave your way into his rotten lungs, but soon enough you became his air, his new high.

after learning you never did substances, he switched positions at the club and asked you to get a safer job, not wanting you to inevitably cave to the horrible things that he tries.

you scold him of course, reprimand him and argue about hating how he acted when under the influence. for a while he managed to stop, wanting something serious and stable.

but then he met thanos, he came home obnoxiously intoxicated. nam-gyu was so star struck that he saw a famous rapper that he didn’t understand why you locked him out of the room, until he woke up the next morning with a headache he only got when he was on drugs.

apologies spewed out of his mouth, wishing for a second chance. his wish was granted, he found another outlet for “extra money” and promised you both a fresh start.

until the extra money vanished off the face of the earth and now he was in incredible debt.

the few months of bliss now gone, thoughts of continuing such an unstable relationship this far into life didn’t seem like a good idea. the arguments were bad, mostly on your end as you couldn’t get him to stop begging and spilling empty promises,

“i’ll make the money back and i’ll work harder to make more for you, please baby i’m so sorry.” the sight of him on his knees and holding your legs would’ve been kind of sweet if this wasn’t the millionth time he’s promised to be better.

to his disappointment, you walked out of his life that night, asking him to only find you when he grew up.

he was determined to make the money back, nam-gyu had no hesitation when calling the number on the card.

-

seeing thanos’ face on the big screen in the unfamiliar room brought a bitter taste in your mouth. you felt bad, seeing as he had the talent but like your ex he succumbed to the high instead.

your ex. that fucking moron. that piece of shit doesn’t even know you’re carrying his damn kid.

a week after you walked out of his life, you guys met up one time to exchange clothes and what not but one thing lead to another and here you were in hospital debt. finding a stable job was hard, especially when you worked as a bartender most of your adult life.

the stress was eating you alive, renting the nice place you had was not cheap and the nice landlord could only be nice for so long because you had to start paying more.

the past few months have been rough and you really wish you had the support of your ex even if he wasn’t the greatest, he was yours and that’s all that really mattered.

standing in line to sign the consent forms made you nauseous, afraid of what’s to come. as you’re walking back to your bed, you get stopped by a hand on your shoulder,

“yn?”

you feel your heartbeat quicken as you turn around and look at your ex boyfriend.

“why are you here?” his hand is still on your shoulder, slightly moving up and down your arm.

he always had a thing for keeping a hand on you, he said it grounded him.

“the same reason everyone is, debt.”

the expression on his face makes your chest ache, he looks so concerned that it makes you a wee bit mad, “what debt are you in? you’ve always been financially responsible!”

he was right, out of you two you made the smarter choices. it dawned on you that you had yet to tell him you’re pregnant with his kid.

“yn? what happened? did someone scam you? i know some people that could find them.” his tone deepening as he becomes more serious, “no! it’s not like that. it’s complicated..”

the worry in your voice makes his eyes fill with worry, “baby, you can tell me.” the name makes you push away from him but the distance is immediately gone as he closes it, pulling your hands into his own. you can’t look him in the eye, scared he’s going to be mad at you.

you’re going to keep it no matter what but the thought of him hating you and your kid makes your heart crack.

the swirled hormones make everything seem so much more intense, tears start to fill your eyes which makes his widen. his hands, ever so warm, hold your face and tilt it so you’re looking at him.

“what’s wrong, i’m here ba-“

“i’m pregnant, nam-gyu.” he pulls his hands off of your face like he was burned, an expression of hurt and anger swirls in his eyes,

“who’s the father?” you look at him like he’s stupid, which only makes him more upset. “why are you looking at me like that?”

does he seriously think i got with someone else?

nam-gyu is distraught, the thought of you no longer being in love with him makes him sick. the fact that you’re carrying someone else’s child makes any will to live disappear. suddenly he doesn’t care that he owes money to anyone, there’s no chance to get you back. “does he treat you well? are you happier?”

“i’m not seeing anyone new, nam-gyu.”

“you shouldn’t be playing games if you’re pregnant. you could hurt yourself or the baby.”

despite his own lack of rationality when making choices, he was always so careful with you.

you threw any rationality you had and spit out the truth,

“it’s yours.”

now he was looking at you like you were stupid, “what?”

“the baby. it’s yours. you’re the father. i’m carrying your child.” he blinks at you slowly, taking in the information you just dropped on him,

“it’s.. you’re carrying.. our baby?” nodding your head, you step forward and take his hand and guide it to your stomach.

“after we broke up, i started to feel sick so i took a test. i didn’t know what to do, i couldn’t find a good job near my place, moving is too expensive, i was afraid to reach out to you. i owe the hospital so much because i’m paying by month but i ran out of savings and then this guy came up to me and gave me a card to make money.”

by the end of your ramble, nam-gyu pulled you in for a tight hug, smoothing your back with his hand. softly, he coos into your hair, “i would’ve never denied you. had you called, we could’ve figured this shit out together.”

you argued back, “how was i supposed to know that? you promised me over and over again but nothing changed!”

despite missing the warmth, you create a distance by pushing him away from you, although it’s no use given how he holds your arms but keeping the distance out of respect for you.

“i have changed! i’m here, i’m going to win that money and i’ll take care of you.” his eyes plead, the hands that hold you start to shake.

“you’ll win it? alone?” the logic hits him and he laughs at his own idiocy, “we’ll win, i’ll make sure we both get out of here. we can put the money together. it’ll be more than enough for us to start over!”

you’re skeptical, sure the chance of winning is there but.. is your trust in him still there?

“if we win-“

his hands move from your arms to your stomach, “when baby, when we win-“

your eyes roll at his optimism, “if and when we win, you need to quit drugs. cold turkey. no excuses, no more second chances. if you so much as look at a drug, i will kill you and raise this kid alone, do you understand me?”

he mocks a soldier, hand to his head and stance straight, “yes ma’am!” the pose barely lasts as he starts to giggle, following you to your bed while holding onto your hand.

there was more to come, you had a feeling that much money wouldn’t come so easy, but things felt just a tad easier with him.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[karmathehalflander]

Don’t be sorry at all I’m doing a little jig of joy about someone finally actually understanding the point of the musical and having being the same takes as me.

Yes!!!! They are all morally grey and that’s the point! No, Evans actions were not excused he lost all of his few friends, has an even more strained relationship with his mother than ever, and his mental health is worse than before the musical. He’s not supposed to be completely hated. But the show never try’s to make you view Evan as being an entirely good person, it just try’s to make you view him as complicated! With good and bad in him! (I will say the marketing Isn’t good at portraying this but the musicals intention is clear)

Conner is autistic is the realest take and you’re so right about it. I could rant about that forever. I think most of the cast are at least neurodivergent coded. I kind of wished it was addressed actually in the show but whatever

ZOE!!!!! I love her so much. I think she’s extremely realistic for a 16 year old in a broken household. She is doing her best but sometimes that’s not enough but that’s ok because she’s flawed! Like everyone else!

Not liking Jared is so real because I also don’t love him as a character. I know he’s kind of a fan fave but honestly he felt more unnecessarily mean than everyone else. The way he treated Evan was actually fucked and we never get an explanation for why he’s so mean. I assume that he’s probably just emotionaly repressed and seeking connection the only way he knows how but god damn man. And then he actively participated in and encouraged Evan to continue with his lie and yea… Jared’s kind of growing on me but he still makes me so mad. Also all of his gratuitous gay jokes got very annoying to me. I just don’t think he was well thought out (comedy relief usually aren’t)

And Heidi! People act like she was an innocent angel who did nothing wrong. But unintentionally or not, she was very absent and while she was doing her best I don’t blame Evan at all for seeking comfort, financial support, and parental guidance from other adults. And I don’t think it was fair for her to be upset with him over that. She’s trying though and I adore her.

I’m going to cut myself off now or I’ll be writing reactions to all your absolutely correct takes all night. Thank you so much for writing this it makes me so happy to see people seeing the show for what it is