#at some point every immigrant feels poor

[bubble-you]

got karen'd by a white woman who was suspicious of me and in worry that i remind others and myself too much of an asian gang member/a hooligan i am trimming my dog's furs *nervous laughter with sweat emoji* the furs that make her look bigger than she is! you know the ones! the sideburns on a dog, the chest hairs that make her look big and strong, the long luxurious majestic fluffy tail, the trailing flags behind her limbs when she runs like the wind -- the excuse being that her fur does in fact mat and get daggy. i know i'm waxing poetic about it now but it is already done! sometimes an alternate universe exists in your head -- i have seen her run many times and have many videos so it's okay it's as if i have both sights to enjoy -- and that comforts u.

[charmedreincarnation]

When I say that this journey is real, and our struggles are not in vain, I am shouting it from the rooftops. A month ago, I woke up with my dream life. Obsessed with the "void state", I woke up one day being the same person but with an entirely new life. All because I chose it.

Your efforts aren't going unnoticed. The universe is always on your side. You are the universe. It's been a month, and I still feel overwhelmed with joy and wonder every single day.

I was once poor and battling depression, a reality many can relate to. But we found the law because we knew we deserved more. You can be ordinary, flawed, even unkind, but you can choose to transform and have it all. And I did just that. My parents, who were illegal immigrants working underpaid jobs, are now wealthy and respected figures. My last name alone garners recognition, and I am a socialite earning money just by being me.

I used to live in an attic infested with cockroaches. Now, I reside in a four-story mansion, complete with exotic cars, house help, cooks, drivers - all treated and compensated fairly. We also own three other houses across the United States.

I was once insecure, severely underweight, and bullied. Today, not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I am also praised for my fashion sense. I was once a dull person, but now I am radiant with positivity.

I attended an underfunded school where I was bullied, and teachers lacked resources to intervene. Now, I study at a prestigious private school that assures my entry into an Ivy League university. Finally, I am respected and appreciated.

I was lonely and uninteresting. Now, I am vibrant with a close-knit group of friends and a man who seems straight out of a Wattpad story. He's perfect, and he's mine.

This transformation happened overnight. And I've been on this journey since 2020. But how??? I surrendered to my imagination!

The void was overwhelming, but now I can easily navigate it. I was tired of giving my power away. So, I gave in to myself, to my dreams. I knew I deserved it. Even if I didn't believe it at times, I made the choice. If you desire something, it's already yours. It's done.

I didn't have a list or anything of my desires, just a vision of happiness. I didn't know what it looked like, but I knew how it felt. Now, I embody that feeling every day. My life is a series of plot twists. It's not perfect, but my worst days now are what I once prayed for. That old life? POOF It's gone. All I have is now, and I'm living it to the fullest.

My advice?

Stop seeking proof. If you're looking for proof, you'll never manifest your dreams because the only thing that needs to change is self. Doubt is a reflection of your disbelief in yourself. When I surrendered to my imagination, it didn't matter who was lying or telling the truth, because I had my truth. The burden of proof lies within you. It's called the law of assumption. You might harbor some doubt, but you must have faith like the devout. They believe without proof. You can too! We all can! Believe in yourself, and the universe will conspire in your favor!!!!

I agree! Your words resonated with me a lot. Faith, particularly self-faith, is such an important tool in shaping our realities. The ability to trust ourselves, our desires, and our potential is essential in manifesting our dream life, and it’s only so beautiful to slowly see yourself give yourself all your trust when you’ve never even liked yourself.

You're spot on about the issue of seeking confirmation from others. It's an unnecessary hurdle that we give ourselves but it’s human nature. Our truths and dreams should not be validated by anyone else but us. As you said, why should it matter if someone lied or told the truth? We are the creators of our own lives and thus, the only validation we need comes from within.

And I wholeheartedly agree with your point about deservingness. We don't have to earn our desires or prove ourselves worthy of them. If we want something, that desire alone makes us deserving of it.

More importantly I am very proud and happy for you !!!! You’re a testament of what our own imagination can do for us and I hope you only keep getting happier and happier <3!!!!

[beggars-opera]

Ok, so I live in one of the more liberal areas of the country. Our governor is a lesbian and I literally did not even know until after she got elected, because it was that much of a nonissue.

Lately, I'm seeing more and more local institutions doing things for Pride. Institutions that don't necessarily have to, or do so awkwardly, but they're trying to be good allies. And, even here, I see people foaming at the mouth. This thing is ruined. Unprofessional. Political. Sexual. Boycotting, disgusted, bye.

And a part of me is like, "Why would a random store, a museum, a restaurant, do this?" Part of my mind has been so corrupted by the idea of rainbow capitalism that the thought of someone just...trying to be an imperfect ally is a cash grab.

It's not. Every bit counts, and especially as we see pushback, and see some of those corporations beginning to rethink their rainbow capitalism, the places that continue to speak up are so, so important.

I'm reminded of a rant by Illustrious Old White Man Historian Gordon Wood a few years back where he lamented how fragmented modern history is. Why do we need ANOTHER book about women, about enslaved people, about the poor? Why are we focusing on these people instead of George Mount Rushmore Washington?

And it was an interesting framing, because he insinuated that these micro histories were bad not because they existed, but because they didn't give the whole story, which in Gordon's mind was a story in which they were the side characters instead of the mains. To that end a biography of G Wash that features the bare shadow of Billy Lee in the far distance is a complete history, all that needs to be said, because one of those figures is a God Amongst Men and the other does not deserve to be fully fleshed out as a full, autonomous human being with a family and a profession and a beating heart. And a biography of William Lee, war aid, professional valet, and person closest to the first president of the United States, with the shadow of George in the background, would consequently be Bad History, because no one is saying that this man didn't exist, but his story isn't the whole story. It's backwards; he should be a footnote, and if he's not, that's bias.

But for me, as a historian, I know that the reason these microhistories exist, and are so important, is that they didn't exist before. Before someone can be truly, purposefully, tactfully inserted into the historical narrative, you need to know who they are. Not just as a name, not just as an archetype. You have to get to the point where there are so many books flooding the market about women and children and immigrants that it's no longer controversial to be talking about them, where learning about them instead of someone else is normal.

THEN you can feel good about rewriting the more general narrative. THEN you can actually have the information you need in order to put things into their proper context, to rethink the most important figure in each story, to assess what the full milieu of the time is.

And that's where we're at with Pride. We are still very much living in a time where queer people are shadow characters in the background. They are people that many will admit exist, but for god's sake, don't make them important, don't make them real, don't make them normal. And until we can shove rainbows down everyone's throats to the point where being queer is no longer seen as a thing that is Other, until we convince people that we're not going away, we will never be able to fully assimilate queerness into society.

We can't just be normal about Pride, because normal isn't loud enough to not get drowned out.

[theoi-crow]

The humans in Greek Mythology are the mega rich and powerful:

In my college classes people are often shocked when I tell them my favorite part of Greek mythology is the gods themselves and I'm not a big fan of the humans.

99% of my classmates prefer the humans in mythos, especially the ones that stick it to the gods like Sisyphus and feel bad for humans like Kassandra and Helen who have been wronged by the gods because "they're just like us." My classmates and teachers hate the gods and don't understand why anyone in modern times would want to worship such violent and selfish beings whenever I point out there are still people who worship them. They hold onto the idea that people in mythology embody the human experience of being oppressed by terrible gods and fate and we should feel bad for them because "they're human just like us" but they forget that the people in Greek Mythology are NOT just like us. They are more relatable to medieval royalty, colonizers and ultra rich politicians who make laws and decisions on wars and the fates of others, especially the poor and the very vulnerable.

Every hero or important human in Greek Mythology is either some form of royalty or mega rich politician/priest-priestess (of course this is with the exception of people who are explicitly stated to be poor like the old married couple in the myth where Zeus and Hermes pretend to be panhandlers). All of them have an ancient Greek lifestyle more relatable to Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump, and especially to British royalty during the British empire, than the average person.

All of them.

Odysseus, Patroclus, Theseus, Helen of Troy, Kassandra, Diomedes, Agamemnon, Perseus, Hercules, Aeneas, Paris, Any human who has a divine parent or is related to one, etc. Although sometimes the story omits it, it is heavily implied that these are people who own hundreds or even thousands of slaves, very poor farmers and the tiny barely there working class as royal subjects.

They are the ones who make laws and whose decisions massively affect the fates of so many people. So no, they can't just be forgiven for some little whim, because that little whim affects the literal lives of everyone under their rule. By being spoiled they've just risked the lives of thousands of people and possibly even gotten them killed like when Odysseus' audacity got every single slave and soldier in his ships killed or when Patroclus as a kid got upset and killed another kid for beating him at a game. (A normal person wouldn't kill another person just for winning a game but royalty and those who think they're above the law do it all the time, plus the class status of the child wasn't mentioned but the way he didn't think he'd get in trouble implies the kid was of lower class, possibly the child of a slave or a foreign merchant.)

The gods get a bad reputation for punishing the humans in mythology but, if not them, who else is going to keep them accountable when they are the law?

And whose to say the humans beneath them weren't praying to the gods in order to keep their masters in check?

Apollo is the god in charge of freeing slaves, Zeus is the god of refugees, immigrants and homeless people, Ares is the protector of women, Artemis protects children, Aphrodite is the goddess of the LGBT community, Hephaestus takes care of the disabled, etc. It wouldn't be surprising if the gods are punishing the ultra rich and powerful in these myths because the humans under their rulership prayed and sent them as they did historically.

Every time someone asks me if I feel bad for a human character in a myth, I think about the many lives affected by the decision that one human character made and if I'm being completely honest, I too would pray to the gods and ask them to please punish them so they can make more careful decisions in the future because:

They are not just like us.

We are the farmers, a lot of our ancestors were slaves, we are the vulnerable being eaten by capitalism and destroyed by the violence colonialism created. We are the poor subjects that can only pray and hope the gods will come and correct whatever selfish behavior the royal house and mega rich politicians are doing above us.

And that's why I pray to the gods, because in modern times I'm dealing with modern Agamemnons who would kill whatever family members they have to in order to reach their end goal, I'm dealing with everyday modern Achilles who would rather see their own side die because they couldn't keep their favorite toy and would gladly watch their subjects die if it means they eventually get their way. The ones that let capitalism eat their country and it's citizens alive so long as it makes them more money. These are our modern "demigods," politicians who swear they are so close to God that they know what he wants and so they pass laws that benefit only them and claim these laws are ordained by God due to their close connection just like how Achilles can speak to the gods because of his demigod status via his mother.

Look at the news, these are humans that would be mythical characters getting punished by Greek gods which is why anything Greco-Roman is jealousy guarded by the rich and powerful and is inaccessible to modern worshippers because Ivy League schools like Harvard and Cambridge make sure to keep it that way. That's what we're dealing with. These are the humans these mythical beings would be because:

In our modern times the humans in mythos would be the politicians and mega rich that are currently ruining our society and trying to turn it into a world where only the rich can manipulate wars and laws, just like they do in mythology.

Fuck them.

I literally have so much more to add about my disdain for them and I didn't even touch on the obvious ancient Greek propaganda.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Ooh, have any of the Decepticons done anything with their holoforms, if they have any? Have they lead fake lives? Is that why they disappeared for a few years? :0

Anyways, I'd imagine Megatron would use his to either become a poet writer, or the most badass wrestler you've ever seen. Maybe even both.

Oh boy have the Cons goofted off with their holoforms.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

In light of Optimus teaching in his holoform, some of the Decepticons got the grand idea to use holoforms as well. It started small, usually with the Con in question just going to watch a film or wander around. But with time, they grew more and more bold.

Knockout took to joining up with the racing leagues. At first, he was just an observer. But after mocking the drivers for their poor form a few too many times, he was pushed into joining the race where he promptly dominated all his competitors through his expert understanding of his frame. Sure a sports car in rather unconventional, but none of his fellow racers felt the need to get on his case about it when Knockout was almost always the victor. The best part about the whole thing is that not a soul can figure out who Knockout is. He comes once a week to the race, joins or watches, and then seems to vanish into thin air afterwards.

He has gained the lovely title of "Ghost Racer" due to his habit of appearing everywhere and anywhere without warning. There are rumors that he was perhaps a racer who died in an accident and now haunts the track to get his rightful medal. Others say that he is a retired racer just looking to stir the pot a bit. And there are some who murmur that perhaps Knockout really is just some guy with luck that really shouldn't be plausible. Knockout is aware of all the rumors and goes out of his way to foster each of them. He enjoys the respect they get him.

Breakdown didn't mean to use his holoform at all. But during a quick scouting mission, he decided to use his holoform to get a better look around a small town and see if the energon readings were real or not. As he wandered, he did not at all expect to find an old man working on his car out back. Curious, Breakdown watched from a distance until the elderly man invited him over to have a beer. Then being interested, Breakdown accepted the offer and ended up spending all afternoon with the man he came to know as Mr. Carpenter. From that point on, he was in deep. The cover story he gave was that he was an immigrant without any living relatives involved in some shady under the table business to stay afloat. In light of his story, Breakdown found himself adopted without meaning to.

Now he comes by a few times a month to help around the farm. He assists in fixing cars, usually by holding the light and passing Mr. Carpenter tools. He puts down fence posts when he can and overall does whatever he is able to in order to assist his elderly companion. He is always invited in for dinner and has since become an adopted son of sorts. Mr. Carpenter's children adore him and he has since become the fun uncle to the grandkids. Unbeknownst to Breakdown, Mr. Carpenter and his family are fully aware that he is not human. However they have never been ones to judge a book by its cover, so they treat him as if he were just a young man a little lost in life. He is a full member of their household, and Breakdown adores the feeling of family.

Soundwave uses his holoform very rarely. But when he does use it, he does so to go buy cat food for his favorite felines. He goes to the same Walmart every. single. time. And Primus, the employees fear him. His holoform is unnerving in the oddest of ways. He looks totally normal, too normal. His eyes are too bright, his skin too glossy. Everything about him is perfectly average, but without fault. The employees have dubbed him "The Skinwalker" and have since allowed him to come in, buy what he wants, and leave in absolute silence. Not a soul speaks to him, and for good reason.

Starscream and Shockwave do not use holoforms. Both see it as beneath them. However against all the odds, Dreadwing has used his holoform a handful of times in order to do some private investigation work. He is fond of true crime, and off and on, he will wander around to inspect cold cases. Cybertronian tech is more advanced than human tools. As such, he has had the satisfaction of cleaning up a few old cases through leaving anonymous tips. Police across the world have given him the name "The tipper".

Megatron, once he got back from his little escapade in space, used his holoform for more recreational reasons. Once in a blue moon, he will turn up at underground fighting rings just to beat the snot out of the rookies who try to make it big. He finds joy in reliving his days as Champion of Kaon. He has even gone so far as the made his underground fighting name "Kaon" Just so that when he wins, he can be dubbed the Champion of the place he once called home. He knows its a waste of time, especially since his holoform can't really be beaten. Despite that, he has a grand time putting criminals in their place and giving a few tips to the upstarts who have potential.

[iamfuckingsorry]

i'm sorry but like. i played the game for the first time like a month ago (and it absolutely wrecked me, it was beautiful), and i just can't stop thinking about this and i need to get it out. but like, kim, what the fuck is the deal with kim?

like, he's just such a weird little man with such a weird little collection of character traits, but also he's just so fucking perfect.

like, kim. he spent 15 years being a cop in a department he fucking hated but he just stuck it out. he is so done with teens he basically refuses to speak to them unless he absolutely has to, but he still spent 15 fucking years in that section, refusing to give up. he's proud to be a revacholian and to protect the city now, but did he feel this way when he joined the RCM? or did he join to prove to everyone that even a monkey fucker like him could be revacholian? or did he join because he got kicked out of the orphanage he grew up at and didn't have anywhere else to go? or was there a different reason altogether?

and look at him now. he's presumably one of the best cops in his precint (i'm sure he mentions something about this early on in the game but i honestly can't remember), and one that seems to mostly play fair and genuinely care, which doesn't seem to be that common at all. and he's proud of this and strives to always be professional and calm and collected even if he doesn't always fully manage. he keeps himself in check first and foremost, and seems to try to keep everyone at an arm's length and not engage in personal discussions, even though he will often indulge harry if directly asked.

and so far it all makes sense, right? he's been treated like shit all throughout his life, dealt a fairly shitty hand, an orphan, an immigrant, a homo, possibly visually impaired (has he always needed glasses? was he able to get them as a broke-ass kid with no one to speak on his behalf? or did he grow up never able to see properly, struggling in school because he could never read the board or react in time when people threw shit at him, made fun of by both teachers and classmates?), mocked and ridiculed, and he's had to fight hard to get to where he is now. and he desperately needs to keep it this way, so he works hard and sticks to the rules and keeps his distance from people, and he puts a stop to everyone and everything that people could make fun of (no, harry, you will /not/ call me kimball, you will call me Lt kitsuragi, no, harry, you will /not/ tell anyone about the ice bear fridge, i will /not/ be known as the ice bear cop). but he's also mostly a genuinely nice and compassionate person and he really cares, as long as people are at least trying to do good.

but also…

he basically wears period cosplay to work. like. for real, he clearly wears his fucking pilot jacket so often that having the RCM insignia sewn onto it was the most logical choice. he is so obviously into planes and cars (but he's too blind to be a pilot :), do you think he used to hate himself as a kid not only because he was poor and abandoned by everyone and "an immigrant" but also because not even his own fucking body would let him be what he wanted to be), he has an extremely expensive vehicle that's his, his only, and not even really needed for the stuff he does at work the majority of the time. he clearly had to have a chat with his boss at some point in time and justify this purchase and why the car should be permanently assigned to him and him only, and even if i'm sure he had a bunch of actual reasons you can't convince me that his boss and all of his colleagues weren't all aware that really, he just wanted a fast fucking car and had an excuse to get it. and clearly the higher ups like him enough to indulge him, because surely no one would be actually fooled? why would a crime investigator get it and not, like, the fucking traffic guys chasing drunk drivers and illegal racers every night?

and like, in some ways he fucking owns it, doesn't seem to give a fuck, he's who he is and if people don't like it that's not his problem. but he's also embarassed about listening to that fucking radio station. but he also drives a sports car and wears driving gloves and a pilot jacket, of course he's listen to that fucking radio station. but then he also does newspaper crosswords. like, he seems to put a into maintaining this facade of professionality, but he also really doesn't fucking care when it comes to a lot of the stuff, it's great. except for the extremely random stuff that he does care about and can get extremely flustered about momentarily.

and it feels really out of character in a way. he works so hard on keeping himself in check at all times, representing the RCM in a good light and making sure both him and others get treated with the respect they deserve. he smokes one cigarette a day to keep proving to himself he can keep his vices in check, for fuck's sake. but then it's like he just picked one (1) part of his personality where he just went like, fuck it. Fuck it, I work hard for this shit and I deserve to do what I want sometimes too, and this one fucking thing is innocent enough and safe enough, and I don't give a fuck, I deserve /one fucking thing/ and I'm gonna get it. I'm getting the goddamn jacket and the Kineema and if people have a problem with that, they can go fuck themselves. I /need/ this one thing and I. Am. Getting. It.

(it's clearly a big part of his personality, but do you think there were other massive interests in the past, or maybe there still are others he isn't as open about with? Things he thinks would undermine his career and reputation? Past hobbies he abandoned because if anyone found out, that would be the end of his career at the RCM, even though for anyone else who wasn't a stupid fucking immigrant who can't even see right it would be a funny little detail?)

anyway.

i'm just like. stay the way you are, my weird little man. you're great.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

Hello I just have some questions about Miguel and some advice when it comes to writing him.

My question is that when does it gotten to a point where Miguel is being fetishized for being this tanned skin Mexican?

I saw some posts from Mexican authors expressing their own opinions and how they handle Miguel in things like smut or how when the movie first came out there were many smut fics than regular fics like fluffy and angst. I'm trying to avoid being one of those authors falling under that category. And don't get me wrong I'm guilty of reading smut with Miguel but sometimes I'm not to sure if the smut that I'm reading fall under the fetishization category. The same can be said when I'm writing a one-shot smut.

Hi anon luv<3

First of all, thank you for choosing me to answer these questions.

As a Mexican American, and Spanish lit major student, I know when the Spanish is from a translator, and when it is genuine. Also, there hasn’t been a single fic that… grossed me?. However, I do believe that some writers exaggerate with Miguel and his Mexican side. Because I’ve seen worse about this poor fictional man and other ATSV characters.

There’s nothing wrong with using a translator by the way. But it’s likely to end up sounding inconsistent. Which can make it easier to interpret as something fetishized?

My advice is to analyze the dialogues.

Don’t add pet names in Spanish for every sentence Miguel does speak. Especially avoid full sentences in Spanish. In ATSV, we only see Miguel saying vague expressions in Spanish. Such as; no puedo más, mija (😭), coño (lol), etc. So while I do believe Miguel is fluent in spanish , I don’t think he speaks it frequently for full conversations, he’s totally a “pocho” (slang in Spanish used in Mexico to refer to Mexican Americans and Mexican immigrants). You shouldn’t feel guilty about reading smut about Miguel. He’s a grown man and a fictional character. My only advice is to not exaggerate. Don’t put much emphasis on his skin or heritage. Don’t overuse pet names with his romantic interests. Use at least two sentences in Spanish if necessary (for example, if the plot is having a dramatic moment, if Miguel is feeling anger, vulnerability, etc). Other than that… you’ll have a good fic with baby Miguel 🩷.

So in general, people… maybe some writer’s intention is not to fetishize Miguel and his Mexican roots, but they are definitely exaggerating with it. If you don’t feel comfortable reading something, scroll down.If you are a writer and you’re unsure about writing for Miguel or ANY OTHER CHARACTER, ask for advice to avoid any misunderstanding.

[transformation4life]

Thinking Straight

"Hey Faggot, bet you want these guns?" The gymbro flexed to Parker.

Parker was your average gay twink trying to get some muscle at the gym much to the dismay of the straight homophobic gymbros. Even with that in mind he still came back every single time. Even with their comments he couldn't help but keep drooling at their bodies especially with their asian heritage.

"Yes I do. Now keep belittling me please," Parker didn't hesitate to keep staring.

The gymbro snarled and grabbed Parker by the neck.

"You. Faggot. Shut up! You will be like us soon enough and understand how much faggots like you deserve to suffer." The gymbro let go of Parker as the words left Parker with a terrible feeling in his stomach.

The collective bunch of gymbros all laughed and pointed at Parker soon after and Parker's hard on quickly faded and the poor skinny guy was filled with embarrassment and left the gym to go back home. Usually Parker would be filled with lust after the gymbros insulted him, but after getting grabbed he felt... different. Either way Parker needed to be alone for a while.

Parker arrived at his apartment and opened the door and was quick to collapse onto his couch.

" *Groan* That was so weirdddddddddd. What did that guy even meannnnnn? I'm as gay as can be!" Parker didn't want to think about what happened anymore so he resorted to his usual at-home activity of watching videos of male bodybuilders to get a hard-on.

So Parker pulled out his phone and was quick to search stuff like "Bodybuilder Flexing" and "Bodybuilder Posing" and "Pec bounce" hoping it would give him the desired tent in his pants. Much to Parker's dismay though, that tent never appeared even when it usually should have. Parker felt like something was off. The words the gymbro said to him ringed in his head again.

"AUGHHHH This is infuriating!!! Y'know what I'll just go to bed now. It's getting late anyway," Parker closed the YouTube app and made his way to his bed.

An urge quickly took over Parker as he out of characteristically decide to sleep nude.

"I-It's a bit hot in here this is perfectly fine..." Parker told himself.

Parker closed his eyes thinking of strong, large, and muscular men hoping he could maybe stroke his cock before bed but he still felt nothing. Infact he felt more challenged that he wasn't like them.

"I'll show them tomorrow. No more horny," He mumbled before drifting off to sleep as his life would soon change drastically.

As the night continued Parker kept rolling around in bed as he kept twisting and turning his sleeping position as he tried to think of large men in order to calm himself down but it still wasn't working.

"You will be like us soon enough," The words suddenly entered the thoughts of Parker making him sweat. Almost sweat too much.

Parker's face began to morph as his eyes became thinner and his lips a bit plumper and more changes to give his face a more asian look. Although his eyes were closed Parker's vision started to worsen while suddenly a pair of glasses appeared on his nightstand. Parker's pale white skin was slowly becoming much more tanner and much like he's been out in the sun for a lot longer than he actually has. Memories of being a Thailand immigrant quickly surfaced into Parker's brain as they replaced the ones of being born in the United States. Still as gay as ever, Chet Wong still wanted to get big and stare at men all the while.

"เชี่ย…" (Fuck...) Chet moaned in perfect Thai as he was about to get a hard-on thinking of the same asian gymbros before something stopped it.

The next most important change become evident as Chet began to pack on TONS of muscle. As the muscles packed on so did the memories of Chet going to the gym at young age of 14. It wasn't before long that Chet had two massive suckable tits, washboard abds, pythons for biceps and thick juicy thighs not to mention the bubble butt of all time along with other ultra masculine features.

And now... the star of the show couldn't wait much longer as Chet's currently small dick erected and grew into a thick girthy 10 inch monster just waiting to fuck.... something. Boys! Girls? Chet was a bit fuzzy on his sexuality as he continued to moan as he remembered his long rod and hanging out with... those asian gymbros?! Wait... that's right those were Chet's friends. Have been for a while now. But why would those homophobic shitstains want to hang out with-

-and understand how much faggots like you deserve to suffer." Chet grabbed his rod thinking of how hot his gymbros were and how lucky a gay bodybuilder like him was lucky to be around them until his stopped in his tracks and his dick softened.

"Why am I thinking like a Fag? I'm no Fag!" Chet's homosexuality quickly became 100% heterosexuality.

Thoughts of men pecs and hairy bodies were quickly replaced with the thoughts of busty women and their curvy bodies that Chet needed to seed with his 10-incher. Chet adopted every single toxic masculinity trait in the book as he thought about all the women he fucked and all the fags that he turned down. Chet's rod quickly rose to it's full girth as he began to masturbate until releasing a sea of cum onto his bed.

"ที่รู้สึกดี….." (That felt good...) All of Chet's worries were gone as he finally drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Morning arrived as a flurry of notifications brought Chet awake. Chet groaned a bit as his morning wood was evident due to his thoughts of women last night. Chet grabbed his glasses from his nightstand and went for his phone.

"Wonder what Fag texted me last night. Let's see..."

Much to Chet's betterment it was one of his gymbro friends also from Thailand.

GB: เฮ้ Faggot พร้อมที่จะทำซ้ำแล้วหรือยัง? (Hey Faggot, ready to do reps?)

BigDick: ฮ่าๆ! แน่นอน ขอแค่ให้ฉันเตรียมไม้เรียวให้สาวๆ แล้วฉันจะไปที่นั่น (Haha! Of course just let me get my rod ready for the ladies and I'll be there.)

Chet put his phone down and got out of his bed to give a good look of himself on his closet mirror. He was feeling cocky and ready to seed.

After a self-obsessed ten minutes Chet put some clothes on, but making sure his prized schlong was big and out there. Chet then grabbed his gym bag and set out for where his bros were at.

"ไอ้เหี้ย! นั่นแหละ!" (Faggot! There you are!) One of the gymbros shouted as Chet approached

"ฮาฮาฮามาก. ฉันไม่ใช่ตุ๊ด แม้กระทั่งยกออกเมื่อคืนนี้กับผู้หญิงบางคน" (Haha very funny. I am no faggot. Even jacked off last night to some ladies.) Chet smirked.

"และนั่นคือเชตที่เรารู้จัก!" (And that's the Chet we know!) The gymbros all cheered.

"มาปั๊มกันเถอะ!" (Let's get our pump on!) Chet cheered back.

The thai gymbros worked out for hours as they built their muscles to show off to the ladies. A couple ladies at the gym even noticed the group making some comments about them. This caught the attention of Chet as he was ready to get some pussy tonight. While the other gymbros were distracted with their workouts Chet stripped of all of his clothes except for his underwear poorly keeping his rod in check.

"Hey ladies. Like what you see?" Chet did a little flex.

The girls giggled and nodded. Chet was ecstatic and made his move.

"So how about you feel this 10 incher in ya later tonight at my place?" The girls giggled again but politely decline much to Chet's rage.

"What?!?!?! You bitches don't know what you're missing on!!!" Chet walked away to his bros absolutely fuming.

"What's wrong bro?" One of the gym bros asked.

"Ladies didn't want my seed it was not fun!!!" Chet replied solemnly.

The bros showed deep concern for Chet and began to hype him up.

"You got big ass Chet! Those bimbos know nothing!!" One of the gymbros said prompting Chet to look at his ass in the nearby mirror.

"You are right!"

Almost as if right on cue another set of ladies walked by and Chet's libido was higher than ever. Chet adjusted his loose underwear ready for a seeding opportunity.

Surprisingly one of the ladies actually agreed to a date later tonight and the whole gymbro group cheered.

"นั่นคือเชตของเรา!" (That's our Chet!) Any sign of Parker was long gone as Chet pulled down his pants thinking of all the ladies he was going to fuck.

Chet's prize swayed back and forth as Chet began to smile as he moved his legs in excitement.

"ฉันรักการเป็นผู้ชาย!" (I love being a man!)

[animasola86]

(MODERN AU) In Your Care

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc x m!oc Genre: Angst/Smut/Drama // Words: 6.9k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: Living in the same foster home, Nebbia and Sebastian are supposed to stay away from each other, but because they are both troubled teenagers with troubled pasts, they simply can't. But then the past comes back to haunt them, threatening to destroy everything.

WARNINGS: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content (oral, vaginal)! Psychological trauma! Sexual abuse/domestic violence! Forbidden foster siblings relations! Horny and damaged teenagers! (Original characters!)

Last warning and notes: This is set in modern times. There is no magic, just plain old life itself, in its worst form imaginable (there's also horny teenagers and love, but the darker themes might hit a lot of trigger points, so please be aware of that!). In this chapter there's an introduction to the setting and a very long smut scene. Enjoy with caution! (If you don't care about the plot, the smut is marked with 🔴!)

// - CHAPTER 2 →

1

Nebbia stirred in her sleep, inhaling sharply, her eyelids fluttering as another nightmare made her toss and turn. And she would, but something kept her from moving around too much: two arms wrapped tightly around her body.

About two months ago she would have stiffened and panicked, but tonight was not the first time she found herself in his embrace. Turning her head slightly, she opened her eyes and tried to see him in the dark. He had his face buried in the nape of her neck, breathing calmly and deeply, his body molded to the shape of hers, his groin pressed firmly against her rear, and she smiled when she felt exactly how happy he was to be this close to her.

At least he had peaceful dreams, finally. He certainly needed them.

To be fair, she did too, as did all the other people sleeping in the many rooms along the long hallway of the big house. They were all connected under one roof, sharing the same fate: being orphans, having been forgotten by the world, left behind, sent away, tossed around like a leaf in a storm.

Nebbia had been four when her Italian immigrant parents had died in a tragic factory accident in New York, and she had been handed around a lot after that, from foster home to foster home, all over the US, until she had been found by two very ambitious people who had made it their life goal to 'collect' orphans from all over the world.

She didn't know how they did it or why, but by coming to this house her life had changed to the better for sure. They all had their own rooms, bathroom and closet included, they had set mealtimes, and there was always food in the house. They even got a little money every month to buy things for themselves, or the opportunity to work odd jobs to earn some more.

There were, however, certain conditions and rules to follow, but she rather admired the strict pattern they had to live by. Which included a long list of chores, and each day they would check what they had to do today, and despite being a bunch of kids and teenagers and young adults, all of them stuck to the plan without hesitation.

All it took was a story told in hushed tones about how someone had been punished for disobedience, and the details would vary and get worse the longer it got handed around until it had become a common fear of all the residents to never break any rules to not end up like the poor soul who had done it before them. (Who might have never existed in the first place, but nobody knew for sure by now.)

Nebbia wasn't particularly afraid of those rules (or the consequences if broken), she actually liked the structure, it gave her a certain peace of mind.

And despite there being so many of them, at least a dozen orphans, it didn't feel like an orphanage, more like a family. Because they were paired into different groups, it didn't get too overwhelming during mealtimes or their shared free-time.

There were the kids, aged between seven and twelve, then the teenagers, where she found a place, being a few weeks away from turning seventeen, and the young adults, yet the oldest was only 21. They all had to look after each other, so the older inhabitants of the house took care of the younger ones.

Now where were the 'parents' you might wonder. Well, they provided shelter and food, sent the kids to school and college, gave them allowance, but most of them had only ever seen the people, who had taken them in, once. They were always somewhere, anywhere but the house. Traveling mostly, she suspected. To be honest, she didn't even care.

Her life was good the way it was now, and she never felt the need to talk to any authority figure anyway. It worked out, didn't it? Despite the curious circumstances, she lived a normal teenager's life, going to school, worrying about grades, coming home to do her chores, doing homework, helping others with theirs, doing her part.

Come night she found herself in her own room, yet she was seldom completely alone. Being the only girl in the upper age group, she had quickly adjusted to living door to door with three other boys, and again, it usually worked out. Looking back at the years before, she was really grateful it did work out, because that hadn't always been the case.

But she wouldn't look back, there was no reason to lament the past when her present was much more enjoyable. That was if the boys next to her room would play by the rules. They did have a curfew, but until then they were allowed anything... and anything ranged from yelling at computer screens, blasting their music till the walls shook, or doing whatever other noisy activity that would sometimes drive her insane.

There was Paul, the muscle man, another orphaned immigrant kid who was scooped up by their 'parents' some time ago, with his thick German accent, his short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was the oldest of them, 21, and the provider of all things the others might be too young to get. He didn't talk much, but he might have been the noisiest of them all as he would indulge in lifting weights and doing other fitness related things she had absolutely no clue about, meaning he would usually grunt and groan loudly in his room, yet sometimes she suspected him to do something completely different.

He lived in the room right across from hers, so she didn't really care much about what he was doing as they didn't share a wall. On her left, however, lived Ryan, 19-year-old Canadian who lost his parents a few years ago when he was sixteen. He had joined the 'family' at the same time as her, two years ago, and they had a rather unique friendship because of that. He was tall, with short black hair and the darkest eyes she had ever seen, and most of the time he was hunched over like a shrimp in his chair and stared at his computer, playing games, watching porn and doing who knows what.

He didn't believe in the invention of headphones, so she would always hear what he was up to, and as he had no shame whatsoever (and luckily the younger kids' rooms were on the other side of the house, out of earshot), he would blast those moany films for all of them to hear, if he didn't damage their ears with his extensive collection of the loudest music she had ever heard. Despite it all, he was fun to be around, and she found herself talking to him for hours sometimes.

And then there was Sebastian, on the right of her room, the quiet British kid, seventeen years old, tall, with messy brown locks and warm brown eyes and a face full of freckles. He had come to them last, only about three months ago or so, and his story was a rather tragic one. When he was young, he had lived with his parents and his twin sister in a small house in the Scottish Highlands, secluded enough to make the accident that had occurred when they were only five all the more drastic.

During the night, a damaged cable had caught fire, and within minutes the entire house had burned down. He had been the only one making it out alive. After that he had lived with his uncle who hated him with a passion, mentally and physically abusing the boy whenever he saw fit, and when Sebastian was sixteen, misfortune struck again, and the apartment they were living in fell victim to another unfortunate fire that took the older man's life. Unfortunate accident indeed, or so they said. It was also rumored that it had been arson, and considering his life so far, it certainly felt like a late revenge on the man who had made his life hell until then.

Instead of being charged though, Sebastian had found himself ushered away by his new 'parents' and had moved into the room next to Nebbia's. She had been immediately drawn to him, probably because of his exotic English accent. She certainly could listen to him talk for hours, and she found herself doing exactly that as they got very close very quickly. And when he had opened up to her, she had felt even more connected to him knowing about his life so far, and soon they had broken one of the many rules the house they lived in came with:

No sexual relations between 'family' members.

Yet their hormones had been stronger, and so they found themselves sneaking into the other's room at night and indulging in their need to be even closer to each other. For about two months now, they were hiding their special relationship, only expressing it during the night when everyone else was sleeping. During the day and mostly during school they were just friends, orphans living in the same house together, and nobody suspected a thing.

And it had started rather innocently also. They both suffered from nightmares, and she had found it easier to sleep when he was pressed tightly against her body, and vice versa. And then they had 'slipped' and suddenly his cock had been in her pussy and oopsie daisy, gone were the rules. Of course they wouldn't parade it around and always tried to keep their noises to a minimum, but she knew for a fact that at least Ryan knew what they were doing when the headboard of her bed was quietly slamming against the wall they shared on countless occasions.

Luckily he never said anything, he sometimes even turned up the volume of the porn videos he was watching to mask their very real noises. Which in turn brought Paul to his room, who was very meticulous about the rules, and loud music or other noises after curfew were a total no-go for him. He was the oldest and very much enjoyed living up to the expectation of caring for all the younger ones. Ryan included.

And how he cared for him.

Nebbia remembered a particular morning when Ryan had struggled to sit down at the kitchen island for breakfast. “What's wrong with you?” she asked, looking genuinely concerned when he would wince and take deep pained breaths.

But he would just smirk at her and raise his eyebrows. “Don't worry about me, I finally got some too,” he told her with a wink, and she frowned. “Guess who I made break his precious rules,” he added and nodded towards the bulky form that was Paul on the other side of the kitchen.

Her eyebrows shot up even more. “No way!” she breathed, her cheeks bright red.

“Oh, way!” he confirmed and remained leaning against the counter as he shoveled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Did you... like it?” she asked curiously. They never shied away from sharing these questions, there was something about Ryan that made it very easy to talk about those somewhat 'forbidden' things.

He groaned quietly and chuckled darkly. “Well, not at first. I mean, imagine something very girthy and long and hot being shoved into something very tight and small...”

She cringed at his words, not having to imagine anything, yet she tried her best not to show how badly her hands were shaking when she patted his arm consolingly. “Fuck, Ryan, that's... awful, I'm sorry...”

He only laughed, unaware of her discomfort and the truth behind her reaction. “Nah, it got better the more he moved, you know, the more, uh, friction there was. And then something tight and small became stretched and wide very soon.” She cleared her throat and shook her head at the images he planted in her head, focusing on his surprisingly happy face instead. “Incredible how... resilient and, well, accommodating some things are, eh?” he added and winked at her.

“I can't believe you made him break the rules!” she whispered with a side-glance at the blond behind them. “You think he'll do it again?”

Ryan smirked. “Oh I hope so, he seemed to have enjoyed himself too. Guess you're no longer the only ones doing it like rabbits!”

Her eyes widened, and she hit him in the chest, more or less playfully. “Ryan!” she hissed.

“Ah, come on! Hey, by the way, maybe you should try that too, I bet Sebby boy will be up for it!”

She hit him again and gave him another dark glare, forcing the memories down that reared their ugly heads in the back of her mind, but blushed all the same. Another wink and meaningful gaze later, she left him standing by the counter and went back to the table, sitting down next to Sebastian who had watched them with a dark shadow on his face.

“You two are awfully close,” he remarked quietly. Nebbia nudged his leg under the table.

“We're just friends, I told you,” she whispered and focused on pouring milk over her cereal.

He hummed in disbelief beside her, and she rolled her eyes before she leaned a little closer, her lips almost brushing against his ear. “He got railed by Paul last night,” she straight up told him and forced him into a coughing fit before he leaned away and stared at her with his ears burning red beneath his hair. She only chuckled and started eating her breakfast.

Later that night she fell asleep to the unmistakable sounds of a bed slamming against the wall next door and deep guttural grunts echoing through the silence of the night.

🔴When she woke up, she found herself in Sebastian's arms again. Inhaling deeply as she stirred, she snuggled against him, her hands rubbing along his arms. The house was quiet now. Time for them to change that.

Luckily for her, he had opted to slip into her bed already naked, joining her in her aversion to wear clothes at night, especially during those humid Midwestern summers. Her rear pressed against his groin provokingly until he moved as well and issued a deep groan. “What are you doing?” he mumbled into her hair, his voice low and husky, and she shuddered just hearing it as it vibrated through her entire body.

“Asking you to love me,” she whispered, continuing to buck against him.

“'m lovin' you,” he growled incoherently and pressed his lips to her skin, not moving any other limb or muscle.

Sighing deeply, she wiggled out of his tight embrace until she could roll around, somehow managing to push him onto his back before she climbed on top of him, her breasts squished between their bodies as she leaned on her elbows and cupped his face. “Love me with your dick in my pussy,” she told him and started grinding her pelvis against his groin.

“Language, darling,” he mumbled, finally opening his eyes to look at her, a tiny smirk playing around the corner of his mouth. She blushed, but not because of how crude and needy she sounded but because she loved it when he would call her darling, or love, or kitten, anything really, the accent made any pet name sound ten times better.

“Forgive me, kind sir,” she played along with a smirk of her own and the probably most offensive attempt at a posh English accent ever. “I am but a humble lady in dire need of some assistance. Would you be willing to help me?”

He barked a tired laugh. “Only if you drop whateveract that was and talk dirty to me again,” he muttered, his warm eyes wandering over her face.

She leaned in with a wide smile and claimed his mouth for a heated kiss. “Fuck me, Sebastian,” she mumbled against his lips, her breaths already quickened. “Fuck me until I cannot walk straight anymore.”

His eyebrows shot up as she looked at him to catch her breath. “You put an awful lot of pressure on me, you know that? I had a long and hard day,” he sighed.

“And you have a long and hard dick,” she replied with a wink, grinding her hips firmer against his erection. “But alright, you provide the hardware, I'll take care of the rest, okay?”

He chuckled. “Deal,” he said quietly and moved one hand up to grab the back of her head and pull her face closer to his again before capturing her lips for another passionate kiss. “Use me how you see fit then...”

“That's what I wanted to hear,” she mewled against him and gave him one more peck before she slowly slid down his body until she was settled right between his legs, pushing the covers away as she did so. Her hands rested on his hips as she took an appreciative look at what was in front of her.

His cock lay tall and proud on his lower stomach, deliciously erect, thick veins protruding, and his tip was already glistening in precum. Taking a deep breath, she leaned down and showered his heated flesh with gentle kisses, causing him to hum deeply as he relaxed under her ministrations. She continued the journey of her lips up and down his shaft, eventually letting her tongue join in as well as she took long broad strokes along it, relishing in the subtle twitches she coaxed out of him.

Her eyes wandered up to him while she closed one hand around his base and the other around his balls to give him a few soft squeezes as she lifted him up carefully. He watched her out of hooded eyes, chewing on his lips as he crossed his arms behind his head, giving her free rein over his needy member. Although she was probably a lot needier at the moment. Without breaking eye contact, she lowered her head towards the tip of his cock and let her tongue swirl around it, licking and teasing his slit, waiting for those drops to leak.

Humming softly against him, she then closed her lips around his crown and sucked hard, causing a deep moan to erupt from the back of his throat, before she took him in deeper, his lengthy girth hot and heavy on her tongue. For a long moment she was just suckling on him comfortably, adjusting to the sensation of feeling and tasting and smelling him so close. Despite the lewd nature of the action, she always felt almost relaxed when she had his dick in her mouth, relaxed and safe and without any care in the world as her mind went completely blank.

She could have stayed like this for hours, probably, yet it was always him, despite his initial reluctance, who turned the simple act of cockwarming into something more sexual. This time he inhaled sharply and bucked his hips against her, pushing his length even deeper into her mouth. She let out a soft whimper and looked up at him, meeting his heated gaze. He licked his lips and watched her.

“What happened to fuck me until I cannot walk straight anymore?” he asked, his voice raspy.

She blinked slowly, then moved back and released his cock with a wet pop. “My, how impatient we are tonight,” she teased and licked up some strands of saliva from her lips. “I thought you were too tired to do anything?”

“I'm never too tired to fuck your brains out, love,” he replied with a smirk and leaned up on his elbows.

She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. “Make up your mind, lover boy,” she whispered, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she felt the heat of his words gathering inside her stomach and way lower. “Can I use you or do you wanna fuck me?”

“Put your lips around my cock and find out,” he told her and reached one hand down to grab her hair.

Her eyes bored into his almost defiantly, yet she complied and wrapped her lips once more around his girth, eagerly pulling him in deeper as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked. He groaned at the motion and gripped her hair tighter before he forced her head down further. Another whimper escaped her, and she had to close her eyes as he hit the back of her throat. Her fingers dug into his hips as she steadied herself, before she started (under his guidance) to bob her head up and down on him, her lips straining around his cock as it moved in and out of her mouth, scraping over her tongue, teasing against her tonsils.

Each downward motion made her flinch when he pushed further and further into her throat. Forcing herself not to gag, she ignored the tears collecting under her lashes and kept moving, the urge to feel him and satisfy him stronger than even the urge to breathe at some point. His grip was firm, yet never too forceful, he knew exactly which buttons to push to keep her moving on her own.

If she would have had the brain capacity to think back to the beginning of their relationship, she would have wondered how fast she had turned from absolutely despising and downright dreading physical contact to being completely in awe about it, at least when it came to touching and getting touched by Sebastian. He had turned her trauma into nothing but lust and desire for him, from one extreme to the next, she was well aware of that, but she honestly couldn't care less.

She needed him, everything of him, be it his arms holding her tightly, his lips giving her gentle kisses, or his cock pushed deep down her throat or better yet buried within her pussy as if he was an extension of her own body. It was a strange kind of obsession, and the only normal thing about it was the fact that he needed her in the exact same way. They complemented one another, physically and mentally, and she couldn't be more grateful about it.

Having him face fuck her might have been somewhat degrading in the eyes of others, but firstly: nobody would ever see them like this, and secondly: she loved it, because she knew he would also bury his own face in her wet folds in just the same manner without her even asking for it. They lived for each other, and there was nothing stopping them, no rules, no other family members, nobody.

Or so she naively thought...

Lightheaded and drunk on the taste and smell of him, she kept bobbing her head, taking his cock as deep as possible until she was able to force his tip into her tight throat and hold him there. Feeling the tremors of his body and hearing his deep groans only heightened the heat burning between her legs as she moaned around him, before she leaned back and took a much needed breath, precum and saliva dripping from her lips.

Once her lungs stopped aching, she dove back in and repeated the motion, taking him deep into her throat until she was able to swallow around him, squeezing his tip enough to coax more groans and grunts out of him, while his fingers dug into her hair almost painfully.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed under his breath and jerked his hips against her face erratically, causing her to whimper and even gag around him until she had to lean back and cough and swallow the spit gathering on her tongue.

She never waited long to continue her ministrations, yet when she felt him twitching inside her mouth, she quickly grabbed his base and leaned away, breathlessly staring at him, before she scrambled to her knees and straddled him urgently as she guided his leaking cock towards her wet folds.

Without any hesitation or further preparation, because she was already wet enough just from sucking him off, she lowered her body and pressed his hard length into her tight pussy, a strangled moan escaping her as she felt him slipping into her warmth until he was balls deep inside of her.

He groaned as well, his hands finding her waist as he held onto her, his face flushed, and she knew he was ready to spill his seed into her wet depths, and while some might consider that the end of love-making, it was only the beginning for her. After a short period of adjusting to his size, with more and more shudders rushing through her body, she started riding his cock with reckless abandon, moaning and whimpering on top of him, as her walls clenched around him, assisting in pushing him further over the edge.

His fingers dug into her skin as his face contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure, and when he came, he grunted loudly, pushing his hips upwards into her while she could feel the thick ropes of cum filling her up with every frantic twitch of his cock. She arched her head back, her hands resting on his chest as she started grinding her hips against him, relishing in the feeling of his warmth. When she eventually leaned up on her knees and continued riding him slowly, he had already collapsed onto the bed, his eyes closed, his lips parted, his breath shallow.

But she wasn't done yet, and she would keep bouncing on him until he got hard all over again, if he wanted to or not. With her body undulating rhythmically against him, her hair falling over her shoulders and her small breasts jiggling with every strain of her thighs as she moved up and down steadily, she felt herself getting closer to her own release as her walls clenched more and more around him. Breathing heavier from the exertion, her legs burning from the constant strain, she arched her head back and stared at the ceiling, her fingers gliding up and down his chest with every motion of her hips.

Suddenly his hands were on her wrists, his long fingers moving up her arms until he palmed at her breasts. Looking down at him out of hooded eyes, she smiled tiredly, while he eyed her intently, watching her every move as he rubbed his hands over her hard nipples. More moans slipped from her trembling lips, the tension within her stomach building, the tight coil ready to burst any second.

With a groan she started moving faster on top of him, her hands holding onto his shoulders as she leaned slightly forward to get better leverage, her hips really slamming against his now, the slapping of skin against skin mixing with the creaking of the bed. She was so close, she could feel it, her muscles contracting almost painfully, but her legs hurt and every move seemed to exhaust her even more.

Whining quietly, she pressed her lips together and kept going, really pushing herself to finally reach the desired heights. And then she felt his arms snaking around her torso before he pulled her against him with a smack that coaxed a surprised shriek out of her. Embracing her tightly, he pressed her to his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck, as he finally started moving with her, his hips snapping upwards at the same rapid pace she had provided.

Her moans were muffled and luckily so because they were far louder now as he drove his length deeper and deeper into her, hitting all the right spots, over and over again, until she finally succumbed to the sensations. Crying out louder than she probably should have, given their circumstances, she felt her entire body shuddering, her pussy fluttering around his cock as he kept pounding into her through her orgasm. Stars danced behind her tightly shut eyelids, and she felt her head spinning as she clung onto him, letting him take the reins to finish her off.

Her release gushed around him and her body spasmed under the tremors as he held her through it all, his breath as heavy as hers as he panted into her ear. Slowly he ceased his movements before he pushed her down on him hard, burying his cock deep within her wet warmth, their combined juices seeping past their connection mercilessly. She lay on top of him, her heart thundering against his own, her limbs boneless and twitching uncontrollably.

Their sweat slick bodies molded together as they both came down from their highs eventually. Barely able to move, she shifted only slightly and turned her head to him, her nose nuzzling against his neck. For a long moment she just lay there, breathing against his skin as his arms held her tightly, keeping her warm and safe and close to him.

Her breaths eased slowly, and despite her fucked-out state, she felt the urge to continue as she pressed her lips to his neck and gingerly licked along his pulse, feeling his heartbeat thrum against her tongue. He moaned softly beneath her, tightening his hold on her before he moved his big hands over her back until his eager fingers grabbed her ass and kneaded it firmly. She hummed against his skin, kissing and sucking and licking it eagerly, while he groped her soft flesh and pulled the cheeks apart to tease a fingertip into her tight hole.

She squirmed then and gasped, her lips frozen in place in the middle of working a hickey into his neck. Her heart beat faster as something forced itself through her clouded mind, all the way from the darkness of the furthest corner where she kept those things she never wanted to think about again.

He felt her reaction and quickly withdrew his finger, moving his hands up to rub soothing circles over her back. “I'm sorry,” he whispered quietly. She swallowed hard and took a shuddering breath as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“It's... alright...” she mumbled, still fighting the emotions breaking through the walls she had built around them.

“No, I... I forgot, I won't do it again,” he muttered, his low voice vibrating through her head, doing its part to help her push the memories back.

They had shared their life stories early on in their relationship, and while she knew that Sebastian had indeed deliberately burned his apartment down and killed his uncle to be free of him, he also knew about the circumstances that had brought her into this house full of orphans. It had been one of her lowest points to share it with him, but he had listened and consoled her admirably, and afterwards she had felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest.

But despite having shared her trauma, it was still too easy to trigger her with the most random things (even though a finger in her butt was certainly a rather obvious trigger). She was determined, though, to hold onto her mantra of not looking back and focus on the present, especially if said present was holding her in his warm embrace, trying to squeeze all the darkness out of her.

She inhaled deeply and turned her head, her eyes wandering over his profile. He met her gaze when she leaned up on one elbow, a silent understanding surging through the air between them, before she pushed it all back again and pressed her lips to his, concentrating on the sensations he was giving her right now instead of past occurrences that couldn't hurt her anymore.

He kissed her back quickly, urgently, his hand grabbing the back of her head to pull her closer as he slipped his tongue between her trembling lips and met hers in a heated dance. Breathless and lightheaded, she hummed and whimpered against his mouth, even grinding her hips against him once more, feeling his cock twitching inside her as it came back to life.

A deep grunt echoed in her ears as he wrapped his arms around her waist and swiftly rolled them around until he had her pinned to the bed, his body pushing her deep into the soft mattress. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment they just stared at each other, their hot breaths mingling, making her even more dizzy. Before she knew it, he grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist, then started moving his hips against her, plunging deep into her wet depths, his dark eyes boring into hers.

He had the darkest, most sinister expression when he was focused that always sent chills down her spine. That look also meant that he was hellbent on bringing her to the edge of pleasure in record time, only to hold her there for as long as possible. And while he leaned up on his arms and knees to get better leverage, she clung to him helplessly, her body melting under his powerful thrusts as he held her waist with an iron grip.

Moaning and whimpering, her voice strained, her heavy breathing broken up every time he would hit the deepest spot in her clenching pussy, she succumbed to the blissful void quickly, her mind running empty as her body spasmed beneath him, her juices flowing freely, creating a cacophony of wet squelching sounds and skin slapping against skin mixed with the rhythmic yet slightly erratic slamming of the headboard against the wall.

His own grunts were muffled when he leaned down to capture her mouth for a searing kiss but his rapid movements barely gave them the chance to kiss properly as he pushed her body up and down the bed, keeping them in a constant state of motion, two bodies colliding with fervor but still working in unison to bring them both higher and higher, and while she kept coming forcefully around him, he eventually groaned deeply as his tight balls slapped against her ass.

She cried out and thrashed her head back, lifting her hips off the bed as the most powerful wave yet crashed over her while he gave her that final deep thrust to bury his throbbing length all the way inside her until he emptied himself right into her contracting womb, spilling his seed warm and comforting in her depths.

Her thighs twitched uncontrollably, her toes curled up, and for a moment she was bent in the most pleasurable position, arched off the bed, held by Sebastian's strong arms as her feet dug into his lower back, deeply connected as their orgasms joined forces and shuddered through them powerfully. And then she collapsed back onto the bed with a deep exhale, her limbs twitching but boneless, her heart thundering in her chest, her mind blissfully empty while her pussy overflowed with his warm cum.

He sighed contently as he lowered himself carefully on top of her, not wanting to squish her too much, but he knew she loved feeling his weight on her, like a comfort blanket pressing all her worries out of her tiny body. Her walls still clenched around him, holding his cock in their tight embrace, savoring the warm sensation spreading within her.

For the longest moment she just lay there, smothered by his larger frame, her legs too tired to hold onto him anymore as they fell to his sides, twitching. Her hands ran over the sheets mindlessly as she slowly regained some semblance of control over her body. With a soft moan she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck before she pressed her lips to his jaw, gingerly moving them up until she claimed his mouth for a lazy kiss.

He breathed loudly against her, kissing her back with his eyes closed, his tongue barely meeting the vigor of her own. She leaned away slowly to watch his deeply relaxed face, his cheeks blushed, and even in the dimly lit room she could have counted all of his freckles when he rested his forehead against hers and watched her out of hooded eyes.

“Thank you for loving me,” she whispered, gently cupping his face with slightly shaking hands. “With your dick in my pussy and otherwise,” she added and saw him smirking before he leaned in to kiss her softly.

“Anytime, kitten,” he muttered, and it was his low voice and the pet name and the way he pronounced it that made her moan into his mouth. He chuckled and nuzzled his nose against hers playfully. “Thank you for letting me love you, I know it might not have been easy for you...”

“It was very easy to fall in love with you, Sebastian,” she said quietly and ran her fingers through his hair. “You made it very, very easy...”

“I'm glad,” he replied and smiled at her warmly.🔴

She watched him intently, slowly calming down as she felt his warmth and strength and comforting presence, and she could have stayed like this forever, but reality came with a sudden knock on her door, and she flinched badly, almost knocking him out by smacking her forehead against his.

He leaned back with a sigh and rolled off her, breaking their connection too swiftly for her liking. It wasn't the first time they were interrupted, and he quickly made his way off the bed and into the ensuite bathroom while she scrambled into a sitting position, trying to ignore the shaking of her legs and his seed dripping past her folds. Grabbing a blanket from a nearby chair, she wrapped herself in it and slowly made her way to the door.

Another rapid knock made her flinch. “What?” she called before carefully opening it and peeking into the hallway beyond.

On the other side stood Ryan, with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his head tilted. “Sorry to disturb the little fuck fest you had going on,” he said with a grin, his voice low enough to not carry through the hall, but she shushed him all the same while blushing badly. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up. They're here,” he added, his gaze turning more serious when he said those last words that made her freeze on the spot.

Panic rushed through her limbs. “Fuck,” she grimaced and looked past him down the corridor. “Where –”

“Still downstairs, putting up the new month's chores I bet,” he told her. “Don't worry, they probably didn't hear you, even though I did. Holy hell, Nae, you really have to learn to keep it down... I could barely keep up.”

She stared at him with wide eyes, her blush spreading all over her body as she pulled the blanket tighter around herself. Suddenly Sebastian was behind her, completely dressed with only his messier-than-usual hair an indication of what they had just done.

“Stop jerking off to my girlfriend, you bloody bastard,” he grumbled as he stared at the older boy.

Ryan gave him a toothy grin. “Who said I was jerking off to her?” The wink he gave Sebastian made the latter step back with a frown, his cheeks bright red as well. Nebbia cleared her throat and grabbed the front of his shirt, urging him to look at her.

“They're here,” she whispered pressingly, and Sebastian nodded and pushed past her onto the hallway, trying to avoid getting anywhere near Ryan.

“See you later,” he said quietly, squeezing her hand before he left her and headed to his own room.

Nebbia looked back to Ryan and rolled her eyes before giving him a playful shove. “Thanks for the warning, now if you'll excuse me, I have to scrape the memory of you hitting on my boyfriend out of my brain...”

He laughed at that and winked at her, then turned around and walked towards the stairs leading down while she closed the door and prepared to meet their 'parents' and hopefully not get scolded for breaking their precious rules.

When she came down the stairs into the crowded kitchen, dressed and clean and as innocent as she could appear, she suddenly found herself staring at a sight she hadn't expected. Not only did she see the people who took her in two years ago, laughing and talking to their younger foster children, looking like the loving parents they pretended to be, but next to them stood a tall young man whose gaze was immediately trained on her, cold gray eyes boring right into her damaged soul, ripping open any seams and tearing down any walls she had built up after she had last seen them.

He was here.

Her heart stopped, her breath became erratic, cold sweat broke from her skin as she stood there and stared at him. It was the hint of a malicious grin moving the corner of his mouth that made her take a step back, then another, until she turned around with her heart thundering inside her chest and ran out of the kitchen, out of the house, onto the large driveway and away from him as fast as she possibly could, barely noticing anything around her as panic flooded her mind and hot tears spilled from her lashes.

She didn't even register the footsteps following her.

// - CHAPTER 2 →

End notes: The next chapter will focus on Nebbia's trauma and there will be no Sebastian. If you like a bit of noncon smut, this might still be something for you!

This is also a dumping ground for my darkest and most depraved ideas, things I can't usually put into my (happy) smutty oneshots, but as a new year's resolution I told myself to delve into other themes as well, especially angst which I always enjoyed writing, so it'll get a lot darker on here, but also fluffier as that's another goal I have. Though there might be no fluff in this particular story!

Now, thank you for reading and I hope I have caught your interest with this first chapter and you might enjoy reading more! Let me know!

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

[cryptovalid]

The politics of Operation Zero Tolerance

If you've followed X-men '97, you know that's it's more than competently executed nostalgia-bait. It's a deconstruction of the original ideological framework of the X-men. I'll be riffing off of the way that Operation Zero Tolerance mirrors real world alt-right ideology and where the show might lead this theme. Spoilers ahead up to episode 8. It's a long one.

So the reflections of the January 6th insurrection, Great Replacement conspiracy and stochastic terrorism are pretty spot on. But what do the Prime candidates actually believe?

Mutants are constantly referred to as 'the next step in human evolution'. This frightens some non-mutants, who see themselves being replaced. Their solution is to subjugate mutants.

I want to focus on some of the ways this doesn't make sense first.

1. Evolution doesn't have well defined 'next steps': every new generation is slightly different from the previous, so that over time new traits will emerge and become common, and others will become less widespread. In the comics, this is not why mutants exist: the are the result of alien tampering with human dna: the Celestials implanted the X-gene in some humans. So 'mutants' are demonstrably just a strain of humanity, and the main reason humans have mutant babies is that their own genes are getting expressed in a new way.

2. No amount of control or violence can stop this. The rate at which mutants appear isn't even dependent on their own reproductive success since most mutants have human parents.

We don't know why more and more mutants are being born now, but OZT will not stop this. It's not even their goal. When they say human being are being 'replaced', they actually mean replaced as the ruling class of the planet. Bastion's 'utopia' doesn't have less mutants being born, just used as slave labor.

This really puts the anxiety of OZT into focus: they want to maintain privilege. They aren't really being 'replaced', any more than older generations are always 'replaced' by younger generations. They are primarily afraid that mutants will render them obsolete in the labor market. But if mutants can be forced to do unpaid labor for their benefit, that doesn't threaten them.

The way this parallels the rhetoric of the alt right is striking. Obviously, the reasons why jobs are moving overseas are different: colonized populations are more exploitable by capital. But the fears are the same: my children are different from me, and if I'm not valued for my labor, I will become poor. Like OZT, the alt right also chooses to enact violence even though it won't solve either of these issues. the MAGA-crowd threatens non-conformity and asserts its dominance to maintain its relative privilege over other groups. This is why it's all culture war stuff. The alt right isn't interested in striking to improve conditions for workers, it will attack immigrants and minorities they perceive as competition. Never the bosses that make the hiring decisions. It's scapegoating.

Even child and slave labor are on the table. Because again, this 'economic anxiety' isn't triggered by other people doing the work, just by other people getting money, care and respect that they feel they are owed.

It's not the solution that matters to OZT or the alt right: it's the catharsis of violence and control. It's interesting that OZT actually has a better point: mutants are inherently better at some jobs, some mutants ARE inherently dangerous. Their anxiety is way more warranted.

And I think that is what makes OZT hit so hard as an allegory: it is a steel man version of every bigot's rhetoric, and it is horrifying.

Where might the show take this theme? I don't think the show will end with the X-men fighting Magneto, as that would undermine the show's thematic support for his ideals. Magneto might be defeated, but that will not be the finale. I think the institutional support for OZT will be the closing statement.

The events of episode 8 will be blamed on the X-men. There's just too many ways that a sleeper that Wolverine cut to ribbons can be spun and Bastion has stated multiple times that he understands the optics of martyring mutants. In my opinion this explains how the primes failed to kill a single X-man, even though Trask could take down the whole team.

This twist will (I think) be used to set up the Avengers as the final threat: the X-men try to reason with Magneto, the Avengers attack him, and maybe Xavier erases Magneto's memory as a prelude to Onslaught.

Onslaught can then lead into Heroes Reborn; when Onslaught threatens to kill the Avengers and Fantastic Four, Franklin Richards creates a parallel universe, where they live out their lives in blissfull ignorance of mutants. I believe this could explain why the MCU does not have mutants: it's the Heroes Reborn Universe (The FF could live in a separate universe).

So how to put a button on OZT? I don't think that they will end as a political force (these ideas will remain relevant in the fiction as in the real world). I think the show will obviously set up a fight with Bastion, but the ideological refutation will have to come from Mrs. Da Costa. She is the poster child of an apathetic liberal, who will only support mutants in fashionable ways. If she ends the series giving up her social status to save her son, perhaps even dying, it will thematically reinforce the need for allies to be traitors of their own privilege.

This ties in with my final speculation. This is a weird one and a reach. We have not seen Roberto Da Costa's father. We also don't know where Bastion's father is (who is essentially Nimrod). Is it possible that they are half-brothers? Emmanuel Da Costa is a prominent anti-mutant member of the Hellfire Club, and it's strange he hasn't shown up yet. Honestly, this could possibly explain why Roberto is so light-skinned. Which I do not want to make excuses for otherwise.

[mexicancat-girl]

I saw some of your takes abt tbosas (and it was refreshing seeing someone with media literacy talking abt it), but as a fellow latin-american person, I wanted to ask you a question: did you also feel extremely disturbed about the way coriolanus talked and thought about D2, its people and its customs? the way he talked and mocked them made me think so much about the way gringos talk about latam that made my skin crawl, but idk, maybe it was just me, so I wanted to know the opinion of another person who's latine too ☠️

Coriolanus is incredibly xenophobic throughout the novel. It made me feel disgusted every time he disparages the people of the Districts, and the Plinths specifically.

As someone who's parents immigrated to the US many years ago, I could see the Plinth's story heavily mirroring that of immigrants. Leaving behind one's homeland and attempting to assimilate, to play the good citizen. But no matter what you do, you're not "American" enough to fit in America. You are ostracized and isolated by white folk. But you're not wanted where you came from, either, because you've picked up too many of the new customs and scrubbed away your identity to fit in.

Sejanus even admits that he doesn't feel like he fits anywhere, that he still feels like he's part of District 2, he's still District, even all the years of living in Capitol. That people only tolerate him and his father because of their money. The way he was isolated since he was a child--to the point that the only friend he feels he has is Coriolanus, just because the other boy didn't outright mock him--says a lot.

Sejanus being played by a Puerto Rican actor also adds to the immigration themes, especially mirroring the current situation with the US colonizing Puerto Rico.

The fact Lucy Gray is played by a latine actress, and Coriolanus goes out of his way to insist she isn't fully District to both himself and the people of the Capitol to help her win, just shows that she is treated as 'one of the good ones' and a model minority. She didn't 'take away' anyone else's status in the Capitol like the Plinths did with their arms dealing--which is partially why Sejanus and the Plinths are so despised by the elite of the Capitol--so she's given much more leeway as an underdog.

Overall, yes, the way Coriolanus spoke of Sejanus and his family made my skin crawl. It reminded me a lot of my own experiences as Latine in the US.

Coriolanus goes out of his way to mock Sejanus' empathy for the poor and downtrodden, his closeness to his mother, and the way they gift those close to them food/dishes from their homeland. And yet Coriolanus takes their charity, takes advantage of their kindness and empathy, and even adores how nice the cooking tastes from Ma Plinth, despite his inner monologue insulting all of it.

Suzanne Collins really did well with showing how much of an entitled, miserable racist little piece of shit he is. I just wish white fans could see his flaws for what they are instead of being dazzled by his actor's good looks.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

For those who are not aware, I have decided to run the gauntlet of @bengiyo’s Queer Cinema Syllabus and have officially started Unit 2: Race, Disability, and Class. The films in Unit 2 are: The Way He Looks (2014), Being 17 (2016), Naz and Maalik (2015), The Obituary of Tunde Johnson (2019), Margarita With a Straw (2014), My Beautiful Laundrette (1985), Brother to Brother (2004), and Beautiful Thing (1996)

Today I will be writing about

My Beautiful Laundrette (1985) dir. Stephen Frears

[Run Time: 1:37, Available- Amazon, Hulu, Language: English]

Summary: “An ambitious Pakistani Briton and his white boyfriend strive for success and hope when they open a glamorous laundromat.” (from IMDB)

Cast: * Daniel Day-Lewis as Johnny * Gordon Warnecke as Omar

___

Hmm. Okay so, before I get too far in to this, I feel like this film was the hardest one for me to follow from a plot standpoint (so far). There were a lot of little things happening that took a bit for me to really understand, and that caused some challenges in how I engaged with this film. I will admit at this point that this was a movie I probably need more historical context for (ie some of the political commentary in the film, the state of Britain at the point in which this film was made, etc.) but my brain is fried from life stuff, and I do not have the energy to do that research right now. 

gif by @itsmyfriendisaac

Fundamentally, I do think there is something extremely interesting in the role reversals here of the Pakistani immigrant family being the richer, more successful characters, compared to the white people in the film. And this makes sense because what I was able to get through the movie is the racism that came out of Pakistani immigrants moving to Britain, establishing lives, and then becoming the scapegoats for the suffering of poor white people (when obviously they are not the actual problem). 

Omar comes alive at the thought of getting to make something out of his life, rather than just be a caretaker for his father. A father who has become a victim to the racism and vitriol he has witnessed in Britain. A man who gave compassion, advice, care to young white boys only to see them march against him when they grew up. 

I loved the visual commentary about how women can be forgotten, every time that Nasser’s wife walked by a room, quiet, unnoticed, and soaking in all this information about Omar, Tania, and Nasser’s affair. 

I did love the visual commentary around ever looming danger. This standstill that Johnny’s old crew came to with Johnny, Omar, and the laundrette. A show of numbers, a threat of violence, that never triggered because there was no reason to do so. Johnny still had power and influence over his white friends, and that kept them quiet. But they loom. They are an ever present danger that Omar just ignores. Omar and Johnny continue to live their lives, build out the laundrette, try to achieve success despite the ever present danger. Which is as strong as a visual metaphor you can get towards existing as a part of one or more oppressed groups. 

I like that fundamentally, Omar did all of this to show his Dad that he could be successful. Because he wanted to show his father that everything he’d heard said about him by the white boys he went to school with, and by Britain were wrong. That he was successful, and he had white people working for him. And how that is only revealed when Omar and Johnny have done the work of selling coke, refurbishing the entire place, and then opening it. I like that Omar’s father does not consider his son opening this laundrette as a success, because he wants Omar to be educated. Because he understands the importance of education, and how a lack of education makes people susceptible to propaganda. I also appreciate that Omar was spared from hearing that. 

I love that Omar and Johnny’s feelings for eachother are never really disguised. Like, if you are queer, you can see from the second they are reunited that those two have almost certainly fucked before. But that good old fashioned heteronormativity is what really seems to shield them from suspicion by most people (besides Tania it seems). 

And for as brutal of a beating as it was, I did genuinely enjoy the scene both for the commentary around how no one really is ever safe. That once your former in-group decides you are now part of the out-group, you are no longer safe. And further, that Omar very adamantly, casually, and happily took care of Johnny and treated his wounds and did not let him leave because he does love Johnny. I love that the film ends with the two of them in the laundrette, with Omar kissing the back of Johnny’s neck, in front of a couple shattered windows. Why? Because for me, it speaks volumes about how Omar views his relationship to Johnny and the world. He treats Johnny rather than worrying about his laundrette, because he loves Johnny, and Johnny is hurt. The windows can be replaced. 

gif by @oscarskirt

For/By/About 

By and About 

The writer of the film is bisexual, and the main characters are queer, which puts it in a By and About Queers category. I am on the fence about the For Queer people, because again, with most of the films in Unit 2, I feel like the Race, Disability, and Class aspects of the film are more of the central voice. For My Beautiful Laundrette, the race and class aspects seem like the heavier hitters, but the reason I’m on the fence is because there are some aspects of Johnny and Omar’s relationship that aren’t verbalized that I feel like may only be picked up on (easily) by a queer audience. 

Favorite Scene 

gif by @eriklehnsherryes

I really loved the scene where Johnny and Omar are fucking in the back room while Nessan and Rachel are dancing inside the laundrette. I appreciated that it felt like it was used to highlight the legitimacy of both of their relationships/love for one another. And that both fucking (and spitting champagne in to Omar’s mouth) could be presented in a way that felt romantic because it was paralleled to a couple dancing lovingly together. 

Favorite Quote

“We must all have knowledge if we are to see what is being done to whom in this country” 

A quote said by Omar’s dad to Johnny. I like it because it addresses what I think is the core of this film. And it shows in very few words, why he ended up this way, why he wants Omar to go to college, and where his ideology and life experience lies. 

Score

8/10 

I think this film falls to the classic blunder of trying to say too many things in too short of a time. As a result, we only get glimpses in to characters, and it is harder for me to see and understand their motivations.

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

They’ve been scared of it for decades but it still isn’t stopping them. The youth vote never worked out for the Dems even when millions of young boomers took to the streets to protest Vietnam, Nixon, and Republikkkan terror at home. Their is no grand coalition of young people, marginalized people, and recent immigrants. Pundits like Van Jones can preach this all he wants in an attempt to make it reality but it’s simply not happening, never has, and likely never will.

The Republikkkans have had great and expanding success with their simple strategy of regional separation. The push the notion that the South is inherently more free, more moral, and more patriotic. Which is bullish-t on every level. They’ve even managed to expand this into the west and mid-west while making inroads into the rural counties of the few blue states left. They keep the people poor and angry and then they make the northern and west coast Dems the villains, the scapegoats just like Hitler did. Everything northern, blue, and urban is evil because propaganda works best when oversimplified to black and white.

The red states are so heavily radicalized that their youth vote red while many of our youth don’t bother to vote. Further the Republikkkans are still drawing deeply from the affluent “Log Cabin Republicans” (LGBT) who prioritize their pocket books and own racism over their very existence. Recent immigrants voting blue hasn’t existed since the mid 1800’s yet the Republikkkans still use it as a talking point. Immigrants nearly always side with the loud mouth autocrats in the GQP because it reminds them of the “strongman” autocrats they left behind. Anyone from a recent immigrant family or community can vouch for this. The only time it’s not true is in blue states where the Dems allow good paying entry level jobs that don’t require mastery of English. Voting Republikkkan makes immigrants feel like super patriots and they think it will help them blend in easier and quicker. Even with the massive rise in anti-Asian and anti-Semitic violence those two groups still vote their pocket books. And for the life of me I’ll never understand why 1/3, and growing, of the Hispanic population votes GQP. Especially in the border states where they are treated the worse. They literally chant “send those sp-cs” back at Trump rallies and other GQP events.

The biggest, and perhaps mortal, mistake the Dems ever made was to shift away from its base of union workers to embrace every group under the sun when all those groups have spotty voting records at best. They don’t vote, don’t vote regularly, and as mentioned often vote GQP. Some may not like that and find it insensitive but it’s a truth that is overlooked by the ultra-liberal, educated elite, and the so called mainstream media. The focus should always have been on expanding union rights since they had excellent Democratic turn out. At the same time attempts should have been made to attract marginalized people. It never should have been one or the other, that was a catastrophic mistake. Biden is the first high level Dem since the 60’s to realize this mistake and is working to bring unions back.

Many of us on the left still have bought into endless attacks on unions produced by Republikkkan oligarchs who want every hindrance to profit removed regardless of the human cost. Just like so many bought into the decades of repugnant attacks against Hillary which gave us Trump and MAGA. Nearly all unions are pro-Democrat. The only unions that are pro-Republikkkan are police unions that get everything they want from local Republikkkan officials who need them as foot soldiers. There are still a handful of law enforcement unions, mainly in the north, that are pro-Dem because they realize the value of unions as a whole. Once Repubs have stamped out all the other unions they will weaken and eventually eliminate them as well.

People on our side just don’t recognize what unions do for a free society. Most know the basics of higher wages, sick leave, benefits like over-time, health insurance, protections against unjust/illegal termination, guaranteed raises, vacations (often paid), and the basic human dignity of not having to grovel at the bosses feet. Further, and this is important and overlooked, unions provide work place safety and security for marginalized people. African-Americans, LGBT, immigrants, young, women, old, religious minorities, the handicapped and infirm all have a place where they are safe to work. Most importantly union workers have built in recourses if management becomes hostile or takes unfair or prejudicial action.

Yes all institutions have faults as they are run by people and people are not infallible. But your union dues provide you with shop stewards and if necessary legal representation. You don’t get that anywhere else. No non-union company will protect you if you are discriminated against you. Workers have a contract with their union that is contractually bound to protect them. It doesn’t always work in a very small number of instances where lower level union shop stewards are corrupted by management but 99% of the time it functions as planned and goes on smoothly without us even being aware. Of course when something doesn’t work out the media blows it out of proportion leading us to think every institution is corrupt.

How many workers hate their underpaid jobs where they have no chance of advancement, wage theft, long hours, at will scheduling, abusive bosses, unsafe working conditions, and fear of termination? That’s not how it is when you have a job with a strong union. Again nothing is perfect but union work places are vital to our democracy and the protection of marginalized people who would in millions of cases unable to even find work. That’s something to stop and think about before you go off on an imaginary blue collar white union worker you believe voted for Trump. Remember you are buying into Republikkkan propaganda whenever you disparage unions.

And if you want that youth vote to turn the tide then get off your backsides and start educating the young people in your orbit before Fox News MAGAts radicalize them.

[pennyserenade]

Hello! Hope you’re doing well!! I’m not sure you’d like followers to respond to/ interact with your posts w your thoughts in the tags but I just wanted to say that I totally agree w your thoughts on Coryo and Sejanus LOL. Im v surprised (tho I guess I shouldn’t be given how old I am at this point + the no. of fandoms I’ve been in) that people can read them so differently from the novel. Coryo is an unreliable narrator and that makes it kind of fun to read because his pov shouldn’t always be taken as the truth. In fact I think it’s fun to read how differently his peers view him/ his r/s w other people vs what he himself perceives. Sejanus is such a nice, sweet boy and it’s kinda sad that other people don’t read him that way just because the book is filtered through coryo’s thoughts haha. He’s kind and dares to stand up for what he believes in… I think the saddest thing abt his story is that he was genuinely trying to help others directly but unfortunately the people he spoke to weren’t the most honest/ dependable (I don’t think the stuff with the rebels would have gone down well) and he also trusted Coryo (I don’t blame him cause Coryo was the only “nice” person in the Capitol) 😭 I suppose that’s also how difficult it is to deal w people sometimes IRL (in extreme situations). Anyway ya just wanted to share my thoughts :x feel free to ignore if this isn’t something you’re ok with!!

hi nonie! i'm absolutely okay with followers interacting with my tags and posts/coming to talk about this stuff with me! as you can probably tell i've got a lot to say about this stuff - i'm just a chronic in the tag poster lol.

because suzanne collins wrote the ballad of songbirds and snakes in a third person point of view, i think that readers have taken to assuming that what they're getting is an unbiased narrator, when in fact we are still very much getting a biased point of view from coriolanus. sure, we are distanced from his thoughts--not exactly seeing things through his eyes as we did with katniss--but that doesn't mean we don't have access to him and that his thoughts aren't distorting what we are seeing. i've thought a lot about the reasons suzanne collins might've chosen to use third person pov when she used a first person pov for the rest of the novels, and i don't think there was one definite reason. some of the brilliance of suzanne collins' writing lies in the fact that you do have derive these meanings for yourself at times. personally, i like to think that she chose to use third person pov because this story, while very much coriolanus-centric, belonged to characters like sejanus plinth and lucy gray, too.

the fact that this book came out during the trump's presidency isn't at all lost on me. i think what suzanne collins was saying was: look how badly this system failed this once privileged white boy. for all intents and purposes this should make him angry, and here are these district kids who have suffered just as he has. he can relate more to them than he can to any of his capital peers. he knows what it is to hunger and suffer and fight for your life every day, to be made to perform. when coriolanus turns his back on sejanus plinth and lucy gray baird, it is so tragic because he was meant to side with them and yet at the end of the day he turned his back on them because he wanted to be with 'his people.' he upheld this system that had so failed him because he thought people like lucy gray and sejanus plinth were primitive and less than because that's the mindless shit he had been fed his entire life. this is exactly what happened during that election. i've seen countless white people, who are every bit as poor and destitute as the immigrants that seek to come to this country for help -- if not more -- turn their back on them and support trump. even the poorest of whites think they are better than the richest of latinos or black people because this what their systems teach them, and it makes them feel good to think that.

i think that's why sejanus was district 2 turned capital. i believe that this was commentary on how, no matter how far poc and/or immigrants come, these white people will always view them as less than and that the system will never be forgiving of them. i do genuinely believe that coriolanus thought that sejanus' parents would save him in the end, and the fact that they couldn't was so shocking because he had, up until that point, seen the ways wealth had benefited plinth. he could not conceptualize a world where wealth wouldn't get a person what they wanted because he did not know what it was to be district. they did not see sejanus plinth, heir to the plinth fortune. they saw a district rat, a nameless, faceless traitor to kill. it is no surprise that coriolanus snow climbed to the top on the back of sejanus plinth tragic ending, because that's simply what happens every day.

i do understand and don't absolutely hate the conversations people have surrounding sejanus' privilege and what he chose to do with it/ what he chose not to do, but i think to consider sejanus an annoying, selfish character is erroneous. he was a boy who knew that this system would never favor him and was trying his best to envision a world where it might, and yes he did make stupid rash decisions, but at the end of the day what killed him was coriolanus snow and snow's desire for power. sejanus plinth was not stupid for trusting coriolanus snow, either; coriolanus snow was evil for betraying the boy's trust for his own self-serving agenda.

it is hard to live in a world like this. even as a white woman with a mexican father, i have have had to experience the kind of things sejanus did with people talking poorly about him and his family behind his back, and openly to his face. i am not accepted by either side and never will be, just as he wasn't. i will say i do experience immense privilege because of the color of my skin, and i won't ever pretend that i don't know that, but that's what i'm talking about: no matter how much i look like them, and act like them, i will always be a mexican's daughter and i am happy about that fact. i am mexican as much as i am white but it doesn't make the fight i have to struggle because of it any more fun.

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

She convinced herself. This is also why I can swallow the 2nd almost marriage - she wants to believe the fairytale. I don't believe she ever thought it was true love but I think she thought they were both trying to make an honest go of it. What kills her is being made a fool of in that way. Because let's go back, why did Dorothy marry him? Because she was pregnant, which actually means because she couldn't/wouldnt get an abortion, because she's from a religious family (interestingly it seems they're both from poor immigrant backgrounds). She married him to make everyone else happy, because it was "the right thing to do". Because it meant she wasn't just an easy girl, she could be a good wife and mother (her baby wouldn't be a bastard)- and he destroyed that and in doing so destroyed her in a sense. So yeah, she had every reason to make herself believe that it wasn't happening, to beloeve she hadnt made another mistake.

You make a very compelling argument, anon. After the wedding, it likely became a matter of sunk-cost fallacy for her: she sacrificed so much (of herself and for herself) to become Stan's wife and the mother of his children, so it had to work, no matter what -- because the alternative was that she'd given up her youth, her happiness, her dreams for a whole lot of nothing. And the more time passed -- the more Stan dug this hole around her -- the more painful the idea of letting go became, because she'd invested so damn much in this marriage. It's hard to let go of something when you've given your entire self to it.

I can totally see her telling herself that it's all in her head and choosing to believe Stan's lies because it hurt less than the alternative, and then being completely taken aback when he left (without even the decency to tell her in person, mind you). I recall her saying that she spent a lot of time being holed up in her room after the divorce, until Sophia managed to get her out of her depression, and I mean -- is it any wonder? The ground she'd walked on for years literally disappeared under her feet in the span of one phone call.

I feel like there's some space to think she was honest with herself about it -- a sort of Glen situation in which she knew what was happening, suffered because of it, but still decided not to act on it -- but the self-gaslighting seems more likely, for two reasons:

I think if she'd been fully aware of Stan's infidelity she would have ended up confronting him about it, either during or after their marriage, but in S2E13 he clearly thinks she didn't know about his affairs (except the one that led to the divorce).

It's just in character for her, as you say. She wants to believe that she's fine, that her marriage is working, that Stan really does love her, no matter what. This has been pointed out before a few times, but whenever Stan does something decent in the show she just completely melts, and you can tell this is learned behaviour. She's conditioned herself to believe in him and survive on crumbs of his affection (until she couldn't anymore, that is).

So yeah, this hypothesis makes sense (perfect, heartbreaking sense) to me too.

[justsomeoneunordinary]

i am getting so tired by all these "oh no poor boys and men" posts i am seeing on my dash - far more about men's issues and oh how much they suffer than i see about women nowadays and that's just sooo....

full fucking offense but women worldwide still earn less than their male co-workers do for the exact same job. in some places it's better than others but it's still a universal problem

women still have to work more to climb the career ladder and get a leader job than their male co-workers do. in some places it's better than others but it's still a universal problem

there are still, now in 2kfucking24, two countries left where women still can't vote

women and girls, especially immigrants, are the majority victims of sex trafficking!!! this is still happening!!!!! sex trafficking hasn't stopped!!!

every. single. woman i know - every single one!!! - has been sexually harassed by a man at least once! it even happened to me and i never thought it'd happen to bc i am someone considered rather unattractive - have even been said so, directly to my face, by men, which is a form of harassment in itself - and i have never heard of a woman who hasn't ever been sexually harassed even once. and hey, isn't it fucking nuts that this is something you just have to expect at a certain point as a woman? that this simply WILL happen one day that a man will come up to you and be a fucking creep or even worse???

women are still being told by men what they should and shouldn't wear. now, this year of 2kfucking24 the women's volleyball team was fucking finally allowed to cover their full body at the olympics instead of wearing their tiny bikinis!! and what happened on social media first things first was creeps talking about how disappointed they are now! because they couldn't leer at the ladies anymore!!

but you come on tumblr and people reblog posts about how oppressive it is for men that they can't show their feelings or they will be called weak and unmanly boohoo :( sure, that fucking sucks. i'm sorry you have such terrible friends, dude, and i really hope you find better ones - but that's not fucking misandry, you're not being oppressed for being a man, you're not being oppressed at all!!! this is people being mean to you, this is bullying at most! but misandry?! shut the fuck upppp

some time ago i saw a post abt how women should stop being afraid of going out in the dark and how it's fucked up to think of every man they meet at night outside to be a rapist. and i get that! i do somewhat agree with that! but a neighbor of my friend's had recently been followed in the evening on her way back home by a bunch of guys til her home, calling her a bitch and saying they'll kill her (she didn't even know them) and they even got into the house complex bc some idiot let them in. they only ran away once she called the police. back in my highschool days it not only happened once but twice that a girl from my school was followed home after her afternoon classes and was raped. recently, in my living area, two women were stalked at night and killed shortly before they managed to arrive home. and that's just what happened in my general area!!!! not to mention what happens in so many places all over the world!!!! and yeah, i don't think being afraid of going out at night now is going to do me any good, but i totally get why some women are afraid!!!! idk, maybe men should just stop creeping on women, rape them and/or kill them? so that women would not have to fear going out at night alone anymore? just a random thought but hey maybe i'm just hysterical :)

but no. let us talk abt "misandry" instead and how oppressed these poor guys are for *check's notes* women sometimes being unreasonable assholes to them

enough!!!