#catering job agencies

[pissmoon]

Pop feminism is so stupid and pathetic at this point they cant even form any good arguments against incels of all people and publish videoessays on why being a tradwife or a 'trophy wife' to a millionaire whose dick doesnt work and beats the shit out of you is valid

[hbsmanpowerconsultancy]

Looking for CHEF jobs!!!

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

I'm going to say this on every chapter i post here LOL, but GO TO CHAPTER 1 AND READ!!!!! MY!!!!!!! WARNINGS!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 3

[Prev] [Next]

You loved your office, you really did.  Two of your coworkers were your best friends from high school, the work-life balance was ideal, your bosses were super understanding and encouraging of all their employees endeavors, and the weekly catered lunches truly felt like a luxury.

The only qualm was the noise.

The office had an open layout, and while everyone had their own desk, it was very easy to move around the space and talk to everyone while on and off the job.  This meant any personal phone calls had to be taken out of the entire vicinity.  And in your case, into an unlocked broom closet across the industrial building’s hallway, in front of another agency’s door.

You were sitting on a plastic box containing something you weren’t sure of, anxiously bouncing your feet as your heart hammered in your chest.  Each time the ringback tone exited your speakers caused another cold wave of anxiety to flood from your head to the soles of your feet.  You swallowed a thick glob of spit as you struggled to maintain your breathing.  You were sure your blouse was going to have armpit stains when you returned to your desk.

Finally, a voice picked up the other line.

[Thank you for calling Grand Line Gynecology and Obstetrics, how can I help you today?]

The sweet, welcoming voice of the receptionist on the other end of the line made you breathe a sigh of relief, though you weren’t out of the woods just yet.  Far from it.  “Hi, uhm, I’m a patient with Dr. Robin, and I was wondering if I would be able to get an appointment as soon as possible.”

A few keyboard clicking noises followed your request.

[Can I have your name and date of birth?]

You quietly relayed your information, biting your lip impatiently.  More typing sounds could be heard.

[Alright, Mrs. Trafalgar, and do you mind if I ask the purpose of your visit?]

You knew it was important information for your doctor to know prior to seeing you, but the thought still made a heavy pit develop in your stomach.  “Uhm… f-fertility consultation…?  I guess.”

More clicking.

[Of course, I’m looking up Dr. Robin’s availability right now, hold on just a moment, please!]

You’ve dealt with crappy phone receptionists in the past, but whoever was usually on the receiving end of your calls to your gynecologist was always so pleasant.  You could never quite recognise her voice in person, but her bubbly and patient speech was always greatly appreciated during your otherwise anxious phone calls.  Finally, she came back onto the line.

[Dr. Robin’s next available appointment isn’t for three months, unfortunately, but I can still fit you into that time slot if you would like!  I can also write your name down, so if any appointments open up sooner, we will give you a call.]

You breathed another sigh of relief.  “That would be amazing, thank you.”

[Alright, Mrs. Trafalgar, I have you marked down for Thursday, May 1st at 10:00 AM.  We’ll give you a call if anything changes and you can always call us if you develop other concerns, okay?]

You smiled at the broom closet floor.  “I appreciate it, thank you very much.”  The phone clicked off after trading goodbyes, your arm falling onto your lap.  You hadn’t realized how tight you were gripping your phone until then, your hand trembling with how harsh your hold was on the device.  With a sigh, you opened your text conversation with Law.

Hi baby, I just called the obgyn, they cant fit me in until may 1st but she said if anything opens up theyll call me back.  Fingers crossed something opens up sooner, hopefully you dont have to wait as long!  I’ll see you later, i love youuuuu ^3^

You put your phone to sleep and stuffed it into the pocket of your trousers as you finally exited the broom closet.  An employee of the agency across from yours was entering his office and tossed you a very confused glance at you leaving the innocuous room, but you paid him no mind as you walked back into your office to continue your work.

“There you are, I was wondering where you went!”  Ikkaku was waiting for you at your desk with her work laptop in hand.  “I wanted to go over a few designs with you, but when I went to find you, you were just, POOF!  Gone like the wind!”

You laughed at her excited talking, finally sitting at your desk again and grabbing an unoccupied chair for your friend to sit in.  “Sorry to make you wait, I had to take a phone call.”

Ikkaku brushed off having to wait with a cheery, “It’s fine!  No biggie!” before opening her laptop and inputting her passcode.  You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.  While Ikkaku was opening her files, you slipped out your device and tapped the screen.

Baby~~<3

Hopefully something opens up, but it’s good that you at least got an appointment.  I got my appointment with urology on my lunch break today.  We’re making steps.  I love you, see you later.

You smiled at the text.

“Why does Law need to see a urologist?” Ikkaku whispered beside you, making you jump and hide your screen.�� She was looking at you with curiosity in her big, brown eyes.

“It’s nothing, really.”  You quickly shoved your phone back into your pocket.  Ikkaku was your best friend, she really was, but the last thing you wanted to do was bring up your potential infertility issues while on the clock, and especially while your anxieties were still fresh and raw at the forefront of your brain.

Ikkaku must have sensed your profound fear, as she shrugged and turned her attention back to her laptop.  “So here’s what I was drafting…”

—

While you had to wait around three months for your appointment, Law’s was scheduled shockingly quick.  Almost too quick for his liking.  The following week.  Which, to Law’s mutual discomfort and relief, came much quicker than he thought it would.  

He was thanking the heavens above that he had the day off for once.

Law followed all the rules to a T before the appointment.  No ejaculation 2-3 days prior, but no longer than 5.  He’d jerk off into a sterile cup in the clinic, hand that to the doctor, and wait a few hours.  While waiting, he’d get his hormone blood work collected.  Easy as pie.  He walked into the clinic feeling oddly confident in himself and his abilities to follow pre-procedure protocol, as a doctor himself.  The brief moment of cocky joy was interrupted as soon as the fertility doctor entered the examination room Law was sitting in.

“Alriiiight!  Mr. Trafalgar Law!”  The doctor was shouting his name before even closing the door, making the black-haired man cringe.  The nametag on the open laboratory-style coat he wore read ‘Dr. Franky.’  Next to the name tag was a little enamel pin of a robot.  The door was closed with a moderate slam.  “You’re that cardiologist from New World Hospital, right?  You’re crazy popular, so cool to see you in the clinic!  So we’re here to check on your little swimmers, huh?”  Dr. Franky, who was shockingly tall and very broad in the shoulders, plopped into his seat and placed his laptop on the counter in front of him.  

The force of him sitting on the stool caused the pneumatic tube to compress forcefully downwards.  Law had a mental image in his head of the tube exploding and propelling the spring upward into the doctor’s ass.  He barely even registered the fact that his reputation as the city’s leading cardiothoracic surgeon seemed to have followed him to his semen analysis appointment.  He shook his head quickly before nodding.  “Uh, yeah, semen analysis.”

Dr. Franky was rapidly typing in whatever patient portal he was using.  “Semen analysis is such an uppity thing to call it, I personally like calling it the Super Swimming Meet!”  He laughed, the voice echoing around the small room and making Law wince.  He finally finished typing, slamming his laptop closed.  It was then Law noticed a few pieces of scotch tape holding the laptop’s hinges together.  (What kind of clinic is this?)  Franky’s booming voice interrupted Law’s thoughts.  “All you have to do is wank off into this cup here.  Cap it tightly and bring it to the nurse’s station when you’re done and it’ll get sent off into the lab!”

Law carefully took the cup from the doctor, his face heating up in embarrassment.  “Uhm… thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with before I leave you to it?”

Law wanted to ask if there was a different room he should be doing this in, or if handing the cup to a random nurse was proper protocol, but he honestly wanted nothing more than to get out of there as quickly as possible.  He was starting to regret his colleagues at the hospital giving him clinic recommendations.  “Uhh… no thank you, I think that’s everything.”

“Alright, Mr. Trafalgar, I’ll let you get to it!”  Dr. Franky left fairly quickly, much to Law’s relief.  His ears were still ringing with the volume of the doctor’s voice.

Law was now left alone, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair, holding the empty sterile plastic cup.  After that interaction, the last thing he was thinking of doing was masturbating, but he needed to get it over with.  For your sake, and his.

He awkwardly stood and undid his belt, letting his pants and boxers fall to the floor before placing a few napkins onto the plastic chair and sitting back down.  He shivered at the cold feeling of the napkin-covered chair against his bare ass.  This was the least erotic situation he could’ve ever experienced.  He figured it would be far from the norm, but this was beyond any expectation he could’ve developed.  He shivered.

Grabbing the cup again, Law unscrewed the cap just enough so that he’d be able to pop it open as soon as he needed to.  When he stared at his flaccid dick, however, he uttered a defeated sigh.

‘Think of something to get you hard, man, think of your wife,’ he told himself.  Even his inner voice was desperate.

The sterile doctor’s office was completely inhibiting any thoughts of you to remain permanent in his head.  Every time he tried to think of your smell, your taste, the feeling of your bare flesh against his fingers, he would inhale and take in the bland stench of sterile alcohol and plastic.  He groaned.

Reaching into his pants pocket on the floor, he procured his phone.  Opening an incognito window on his web browser, he inwardly apologized to you (and double checked that the door was locked) before opening up a porn website for the first time since he was an undergrad in college.

—

Law came home a few hours after you.  You were standing at the stove setting the oven preheat temperature, a loaf pan of uncooked banana bread sitting on the stove top waiting to bake.  You turned to ask how his appointments went, but kept your mouth shut when you saw Law kick his shoes off and sit at the bar counter in your kitchen, placing his head in his hands.

“What happened?” you hurried over to him, immediately growing anxious that he had received bad news.  Your stomach turned.

He lifted his head.  “I… I had to watch porn today.”

[justmeinadaze]

Ghost In The Machine (Eddie X You)

A/N: I wrote this a few days ago because I need it more than anything rn.

Title is based off of SZA's song "Ghost In The Machine".

"I give a fuck, I just wanna fuck, eat, sleep, love, happy Can you make me happy? Can you keep me happy?

Can you distract me from all the disaster? Can you touch on me and not call me after? Can you hate on me and mask it with laughter? Can you lead me to the ark? What's the password?

I need humanity You're like humanity"

They do text near the end. Eddie's texts will be in red.

Warnings: Daddy Dom Eddie X Stripper Sub (slight bratty) Fem Reader, SMUT, dirty talk, dry humping, phone smut, slight degrading if you squint, choking), Eddie is kinda mean at first, traumas are alluded to but not expanded on (Child abuse; bad past relationships), light FLUFF with my usual dash of the ANGST.

Word Count: 4060

Being asked to perform at parties like this wasn’t new for you and the other girls. Having the manager of a famous band reach out to your company for some “entertainment” wasn’t odd either. What was odd was that you were told Corroded Coffin had four band members and right now you were looking at three. They seemed content with the girls they had grinding and kissing on their lap so you decided to take a look around the mansion style home you guys had been called to. 

It was extremely beautiful with a bunch of rooms displaying different things. Your fingers grazed the wall at the bottom of the bands framed platinum and gold albums. Turning into what you assumed was a game room, you found a billiards table and a PlayStation with a mini bar in the corner. Around the area, shelfs prominently showed off the band’s awards and accolades with MANY pictures of them in different places. 

As you walked further down the hall, you passed an open-door smelling smoke and hearing light strumming of a guitar. Pausing, you took a couple of steps back to peer into the room, finding that missing fourth member.

He had headphones on over his long, wavy hair as a half-finished cigarette dangled from his lips. His eyes were closed as his fingers ran across the instruments strings as it leaned against his bare chest. His jeaned leg and barefoot tapped to a beat as he listened to his music. 

“Jesus Christ!”, he exclaimed as his eyes shot open feeling a change in the atmosphere. “What the fuck are you doing over here?! You girls are supposed to stay in the goddamn living room.”

“Hey there’s no reason to be rude! Your friends were preoccupied with the other ladies so I thought I’d look around.”

“Uh huh. To steal shit?”

“No! To look. I got bored, ok?!”

“Hm. A hooker who’s bored. That’s something I haven’t heard before.” His tone is dripping with mocking as he rises to his feet. 

“That’s no reason for you to be a fucking asshole!”

“You watch your mouth when you talk to me, little girl. I can make sure you and your ‘company’ never get another job again.”

“Oh, Mr. Tough Rockstar is oh no scary. Fuck you. I’ve handled way worse clients than the number 5 band on the billboard charts.”

The man’s held tilted to the side as he finally drank you in. You were visually different than what he expected when his friends had suggested reaching out to an agency to have some women come over to celebrate with since they were nominated for another Grammy. Eddie didn’t care about that kind of thing; he just wanted to play music. When he heard the car pull up, he immediately disappeared to his room to practice and write some new songs. Not that he wasn’t interested in “entertaining a woman”. This metalhead liked a challenge and he enjoyed even more a strong woman that wouldn’t just cater to his every whim. He didn’t want a woman who would get down on her knees no questions asked. Eddie wanted one who would tell him to fuck off but then after a few consensual activities would be dripping and begging for his cock.

Women were offered to him and his friends constantly. He wanted something he had to earn so that way when she finally submitted, it was all the more sweet.

“What’s your name?”, he asked in a much softer tone.

“Y/N. You?”

“Are you asking to be polite or do you genuinely not know who the guitarist of the band who is number five on the billboard charts?”

“Do you always make things this complicated?”

“Yes.” When he grins at you, you can’t help but smile back.

“Some of the other ladies find catering to a man’s ego really gets them going. I find it’s better to ask them questions, Mr. Munson, especially since most of our clients think we don’t care about them.”

“Do you? Care I mean.”

“Sometimes.”, you shrug. 

“You’re honest. I like that.”

“I don’t really see the point in lying if I’m probably never going to see you again.”

“Do you WANT to see me again?”

This time it was your turn to tilt your head. He said that with a lot of the sass he had been giving you since he saw you but something else was behind his eyes when he spoke, something lonely. Your palm reached out confidently, landing on the bulge in his jeans. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice his size. The part of him that was against your hand wasn’t even all of him and you gulped as you tried to regain your confident composure. 

“Do you want me to help you feel better now, Mr. Munson?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”, the guitarist mused as he stepped forward, placing his own palm against the wall behind you and trapping you against it. “I hate when my questions go unanswered.”

“You-you must be used to disappointment then.”

His nose grazed yours, grinning a big tooth filled smile before his eyes flicked down to your hand on his cock.

“You must be to, Y/N.” Slowly, his fingers trace down your arm and take hold of your wrist as he holds it still. “Be honest. Have you ever felt a dick as big as mine?” 

You licked your lips as his hips began grinding against your palm, trying to push down the moan that wanted to escape. 

 “Ooo someone’s confident.”, you jest. Something in his look changes as the hand on the wall behind you slides down to your throat. In most situations with your other clients this would be a time to panic but he wasn’t gripping you violently. When his fingers firmly pressed into your skin, your brain felt fuzzy as your pussy clenched around nothing. 

“I’d say I’ve earned the right to be confident. Now, Y/N, this your one warning. Answer the questions I ask you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes Mr. Munson. I understand. N-no. I’ve never felt a dick like yours.”

He smirked as he pressed your palm harder against him. “Good girl.” Your let out a sigh when he released his hold on your neck to push some of your hair behind your ear. “You really are beautiful, Y/N. Fuck and your hand feels so good. I can only imagine how the rest of you feels.”

“You don’t have to imagine. You can have me if you want me.”

Eddie’s smirk grows as he bites his bottom lip. “Honestly, sweetheart, I’ve never wanted anything more but…that’s not how I play. I don’t want you to fuck me because you’re paid to.” He leans in till his lips are right by your ear. “I want you to fuck me because you want to…need me to.” You hear his breathing stutter as he moves his hips faster, his grip on your wrist tightening. “Beg me to.”

“Oh fuck…”, you whimpered at his words. His movements become choppy and grunts before you feel dampness on his jeans. 

He leans back placing his forehead on yours as he licks his lips and softly smiles. “See, what would usually happen now is I’d make you cum to. I bet that pussy is just aching to be touched but see…you’re getting to paid to make us feel good…not the other way around.”

You’re honestly too stunned to say anything or fight back with your typical brand of sass. Right now, all you can think of his him and how bad you need something from him; anything. 

“Can…can I kiss you?”

When he nods, you waste no time connecting your lips to his. You immediately taste the nicotine but that undertone of him has you dizzy. All too quickly, it’s over as he pulls away. He doesn’t just move his head but his whole body as he backs towards his bed, yanking off his now stained jeans and boxers.

“How long are you ladies here for?”, he asks nonchalantly as he sits on the bed and picks up his guitar again. 

“Huh? Oh, um, 2 AM I think.”

He glances at his phone before handing it to you. “Time’s almost up. Put your number in there for me.”

Eddie said it like a command and your instinct was to say something snarky but as you looked down at him strumming his instrument without looking at you, you realized there was more to this man than meets the eye. Most men who begged for your number always watched you intently to make sure you actually did it, you assumed. Of course, you gave them a fake number or the number to the agency you worked for but with this man here his head remained lowered. It was almost like he was afraid you wouldn’t…like he really hoped you would and would be hurt if he watched you decline, giving the phone back. 

There was something about Eddie that you wanted to know more about. He wasn’t like everyone else you had been around. For some reason, you felt like you could trust him. 

After inputting your real number, you placed his device back on his nightstand and sat beside him. “We still have 45 minutes. Can I ask what you’re working on?”

His eyes shoot over to you as he cautiously scans your soft smiling face. “We’re working on this new album and Jeff has this song he wrote but I can’t find the right sound. I was just messing around and recording them to see if it sparked something.”

“May I hear what you have so far?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

He reached over, grabbing an extra set of headphones and placed them over you head. You grinned as different guitar riffs and melodies began to play. 

“This is all you?” Eddie nods. “Wow. Mr. Munson, you are definitely talented.”

When he pauses the recording and you slide the headphones around your neck. “You can call me Eddie if you’d like.”

“Okay, Eddie.” After putting the headphones over your ears again, he pressed play and you both leaned back in his bed. 

He couldn’t help but be a little shocked that you didn’t try to touch him again. Anywhere he or his band went, people tried to touch his body whether it was meet and greets, walking through the street, or even on stage when overzealous fans would jump on and run at them. Any girl that was lucky enough to be in his bed would insist on touching him until she left as if she knew this would be the last time she saw him. That’s another reason he struggled to maintain any kind of relationship. Besides the crazy rockstar life, he never was keen on being constantly touched. 

He got enough of that with his career and when he was growing up when his dad would knock him around. With his last relationship, they fought constantly because there were times he would come home from a long day and just wanted a moment to decompress alone. He knew she meant well but even after nicely asking her to give him a moment she would still try and wrap her arms around him or try and kiss parts of his body.

What he didn’t know yet was that you understood that feeling all too well. Being in your line of work, men seemed to believe you didn’t even have a line they shouldn’t cross, always touching some part of your body until their time was up. When you were just a stripper at the company you worked for, men were the same but at least you had a bouncer to quickly pulled them back. When times got hard and you told your boss you were willing to sign up for the “side hustle”, it was just you and the girls. 

No one had ever gotten too physical like that but after your client came you just wanted them to roll over and crash or just leave you there till the timer was up. Personally, you chose to stay away from relationships knowing most men wouldn’t like your line of business. Men constantly offered to “save you” but you knew it was all talk. They didn’t really care about you. 

When you moved to the city, you promised you were only going to look out for yourself. You took care of you and had for a long time. The last time you relinquished control like that, you got burned and ran all the way to a new state. 

A small hand tapped your knee and you jumped before realizing it was one of the other girls letting you know time was up. 

“Ok, I’ll be right there.” You turn to Eddie and hand him his headphones. “I really like what you have so far. That last one was beautiful.”

“Thank you. Here, um, let me grab my sweatpants and I can walk you out.”

“Oh, Eddie, no. You don’t have to do that. It’s super late and in your gated front yard I don’t think anyone is going to jump us.”, you giggle. 

“Ok…I’m going to put on pants anyway though because I want to hug you if that’s alright.” Without waiting for an answer, he finds a pair on the floor and pulls them up just below his hips. 

“Do arms not work without sweats?”

“They do but I don’t want to be disrespectful by rubbing my dick on you and making you uncomfortable.”

“Didn’t I just…”

“You made that move, sweetheart. You put your hand on me.”, he grins as he places his body in front of yours. “May I hug you?”

When you nod, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest as your own limbs cling to his upper torso. This was a new feeling for you. It had been so long since you felt safe in someone’s arms. His hand petted your hair as he kissed the top of your head. 

“I’ll talk to you later to make sure you’re alright.”

***

You sighed as you entered your front door, putting away your things, and throwing yourself on your bed as you closed your eyes. A sudden ding on your phone made your eyebrows scrunch as you blindly searched for it on your bed. Swiping it open, you noticed it was from an unknown number but as you read the message, a smile slowly formed on your face. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Just checking in to make sure you got home alright.”

“Are you stalking me, Mr. Munson? Lol. I literally just walked in the door.”

Tossing your phone back on the bed, you figure it will most likely take him awhile to respond but as you go to your closet to change you hear that familiar ding.

“Yup. You caught me. I followed you home.”

“Shit. I just realized that’s probably not a joke I should be making in your line of work.”

“I was just thinking about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Lol Eddie! If I thought you were like that I wouldn’t have given you my number : ) “

“I’m alright though. Thank you for checking up on me.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone now so you can sleep.”

“I actually wasn’t going to go to sleep just yet.” 

You paused for a moment debating on if you should tell him what you were going to do before bed. You were hoping if you did maybe he would talk to you like he did in his bedroom. Hearing him murmur his words and what he said got you wetter than anything else. You could still feel your slick sticking to your legs after you changed your clothes. Hell, it couldn’t hurt, right?

“I just got back from spending some time with this long haired rockstar with a huge cock who got me all hot and bothered so I was going to relieve some of this pressure here.”

You watched the dots on his end appear and disappear. The longer it took him the more nervous you got. Had you crossed a line?

“Don’t talk like that. Be upfront and honest. Talk to me like a big girl. What were you going to do before bed, Y/N?”

You could almost feel his stern eyes through the screen as you rubbed your thighs together. 

“I was going to touch myself and think of you.”

His name suddenly popped up on your phone and you didn’t hesitate to answer the call. 

“Hey Eddie.”

“Are you still wearing what you had on here?”

“No. I’m naked now.”

“Liar.”

“Eddie, I’m not—”

“Call me back when you’re ready to be a good girl.”

Your jaw dropped as he hung up and you huffed as you called him backed. “How dare you—”

“I don’t play games like that, little girl, and I hate liars. I figured since I got you all riled up and you are no longer on the clock maybe I could help you out. I also thought it would be fucking sexy to hear what you sound like when you cum. But if you want to cop an attitude with me, I can treat you how bratty little girls deserve to be treated. Now…what are you wearing?”

“I’m wearing an oversized t-shirt with my panties from earlier.”

He could hear your pout through the phone and it was making him hard all over again. 

“Good. Good girl. Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I just… I always have to be SEXY; you know? God forbid I show any humanity.”

“Not with me, princess. I imagine you look just as sexy now as you did looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes against my bedroom wall."

“Thank you, Mr. Munson.”

“Of course. Now tell me, baby. You said you were going to touch yourself and think of me. What about me?”

“I was thinking about the way your lips tasted when you kissed me…so good.”

“The cigarette taste didn’t bother you?”, he chuckled making you smile as one of your hands roamed up your shirt to touch your breast. 

“No. Not at all.”, you giggle back, biting your bottom lip. 

“That’s good. I’ve had some complaints.” You can hear him smile and your fingers run along your nipple as your exhale heavily. “What are you doing over there, honey?”

“I’m playing with my tits.”

“Mmm. You did have some perfect tits. Well, from what I saw under that tight ass tank top.”

That makes you genuinely laugh and his smile grows at the sound. “What else were you going to think about?”

Your hand slides under the waistband of your panties as your finger slides through your dripping folds. 

“I was going to think about your thick cock against my palm and the way you rubbed against it.”

“Yeah? You’re going to imagine me doing that right now between those gorgeous legs? Grinding my dick against your pretty little pussy.”

“F-fuck, Eddie.” Your eyes rolled back as two of your fingers breached your entrance. “Please…keep talking to me…like that.”

“You like the way I talk to you? Was that something else you were going to think about? Picturing me whispering in your ear like I did when you were here?”

You didn’t know but he was leading you somewhere. There was one thing he wanted, needed to hear you say on your own. As soon as he heard it, he was yours and he would do anything to make you his. 

“Yes, I liked hearing you say the things you said.”

Eddie could hear you touching yourself and your little moans were driving him crazy as he quickly pulled down his pants. 

“Princess, is it ok if I touch myself to?”

“Yeah, baby. Of course. A-are you—mmm—still a bit sensitive?” The sound of him spitting in his hand had you clench tightly as you whimpered. 

“Ah, no, baby girl. But with those sexy fucking whimpers and groans I’m not going to last long.”, he chuckled. “How many fingers are you using?” You barely heard him as you thumb began messaging your clit. “I asked you something, sweetheart. What did I say when you were here?”

“If-if—mmm—you ask…me…something I-I answer.”

“Good girl. Tell me how many fingers you’re using.”

“Fuck…two. Two, Daddy.”

Eddie practically growled with pleasure at the word that he had been praying would fall from your lips. 

“Jesus, yes. Good fucking girl. I want you to use three. You…you have to prepare that pretty pussy for… Daddy’s big cock.”

As soon as you did as he asked, the English language completely escaped your mind. 

“I…your…oh my…” He grunted in your ear reminding you of when he was pressed against you sending you toppling over the edge as you came hard. The sound was almost too much for him as he pictured your cunt spasming around him as you moaned his name just as you had. For the second time that night you made him cum as his spend shot out and hit his stomach. 

“Are you ok?”, you mumbled, drunk off your orgasm.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m alright. Are you?”

“I’ve never called anyone Daddy before.” You had no idea why you were being so honest with him. That wasn’t necessarily something he needed to know but for some reason you thought maybe the knowledge of that would make him feel special. You wanted him to feel good. 

“What made you say it now?”

You scoot your body further into your bed as you curl up into your sheets.

“I feel safe with you. I know that sounds so weird. We barely even know each other but I do…”

You listened to the soothing sound of his breath into the phone as he absorbed what you were saying. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I can be a bit of an asshole sometimes.”

“I can handle the asshole.” You smile when you hear him softly laugh. 

“On Friday, we’re going to be spending some time at the recording studio. Do you want come by and listen to us play?”

“I would love to but I have to work Friday night.”

“How about you come by in the afternoon and then go to work? Are you…um…”

“No, side business Friday. I’ll just be dancing.”

“Ok, cool. Maybe when we’re done, I can meet up with you after.”

“Eddie…I like you a lot but are you sure you want to do this? I strip and I have sex for money. I’m not proud of it but I’m not ashamed of it either. I’m doing what I have to do right now.”

He was silent for a moment as he thought about what you were saying. 

“Y/N, I’m not perfect. I’ve been arrested, gotten into fights with paparazzi, and like I said I can be a bit of an asshole. I like you a lot to but I understand that this is all new. You and I lead interesting lives. I’m not…going to harp on you and I’m not going to, I don’t know, offer to fucking save you or whatever other douchebags say.” You laugh making him smile. “But I would like to take care of you…physically, mentally, emotionally…financially.”

“I don’t know how to give up control like that.”

The way you say that makes him want to scoop you up in his arms and cradle you into his chest. 

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“No, not tomorrow.”

“Can I come over so we can talk? We’re doing this stupid photoshoot thing but I can come over after and bring some food. Of course, only if you’re comfortable. That’s all that really matters to me, baby girl. I want you to be comfortable.”

You don’t know why but you believed him when he said it. What was it about this man that had you breaking all your normal rules?  Not just rules with the business but in your life. You had been on your own for so long that you didn’t need nor want to become involved with someone. However, it would be nice to have someone take care of you for once…

“Okay, Daddy”

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

You know, I was just thinking about the UA entrance exam.

Specifically, how terribly designed it is, but not for the reason they seem to give in the story itself.

Like, here's how it is: Aizawa is shown criticising the UA Entrance Exam once, during the Sports Festival. And the ONE criticism he makes, is that the use of Robot enemies during the exam would disproportionately affect people whose Quirk work against biological opponents, essentially.

His one criticism, is that the exam is not designed to also cater to people like him, and that's it. The way therefore it's set up, it'd be logical to assume he'd ask for a restructuring to the exam to remove the Robots and substitute them with live enemies, possibly Ectoplasm clones.

This is never brought up again, aside from maybe a stealth bring up during the mid term exams when they switch the exam from fighting robots to fighting teachers.

The exam is, and I just got to it myself while watching this video about how Copaganda paints police training and the relative risk police officers face on the job, set up in a very specific environment:

An empty town, where what is essentially a murder spree is taking place. The ONLY entities in the place, outside of fellow examinee, are robots that have been literally designed to attack everyone on sight, and that need to be destroyed to pass. The points granted from saving people are hidden, so they can be more "genuine" of course, and are, ultimately, also part of the problem.

Because here's the fucking thing.

When the fuck is that ever going to happen.

When the fuck, is a superhero, after their 5 years of Hero training in high school, then entering the work force without a need for a decree in higher education, ever going to find themselves in an environment where they can use LETHAL FORCE on civilian targets? With no restraint or care for collateral damage?

And where they are ENCOURAGED to kill as many criminals as they can, and NOT collaborate with other heroes? Because that's another thing, you need to steal points from other people to pass, by culling the number of limited robots, much like heroes are paid by the arrest and by popularity.

You do understand how fucked up that starts to sound right? The other, the enemy, is reduced as a caricature Droid from star wars, there only to kill and destroy, and against whom your only TWO methods of defeat are outright destruction or sneak attacks on their off buttons.

And here's the cherry on the shit too, because, AGAIN, when is that EVER going to be the case?

Do you know how many heroes show up in the first villain attack in BNHA?

Five.

Two are engaging a purse snatcher, three are doing crowd control, the Slime Villain, who may I remind you was guilty of robbery at a convenience store before he got the hostage, gets THE NUMBER ONE HERO, as well as those same FIVE heroes involved, of which only BACKDRAFT is actually doing anything.

Now, imagine you are a hero school, and you produce 40 heroes a year, just like every other hero school out there. How many of those heroes will see active duty, if the rate of crimes demand FIVE heroes to react to ONE criminal?

And people will say "but EDS, this mentality is later rewarded when All Might retires and it all falls to shit," Except NOT REALLY, because that's an externally forced situation caused by, and I can't stress this enough, a hundreds of yeas old NEET boomer who read too many Doctor Doom comics as a kid and decided to become a supervillain, the riots, the open air warfare, is only caused by AFO forcing the hand and inciting popular unrest, which is an unrealistic thing to expect off any society.

In one of the movies, Class 1-A is sent to open an hero agency on a small island with barely a village on it. 20 Heroes. Until the movie truly picks up, the best they do is help kittens from trees, and Bakugou, the sort of person for whom the Entrance Exam was designed, is useless, left in his tent like Achilles, the perfect cowboy cop who peeked in highschool and didn't realize just how much paperwork and dead time his dream job actually entailed.

So that's the ACTUAL Issue with the entrance exam. It take no account for any other mean to beat the robots but brute force, it takes no account for collateral damage, or the sanctity of life of your opponents, and it tests nothing but how good at ending lives you are.

Which is a problem when you're picking future heroes.

[manias-wordcount]

Retreat (Shouta Aizawa, Nemuri Kayama, Toshinori Yagi, Hizashi Yamada)

Kinktober 2024 Day Thirty-One: Service

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗗𝗮𝘆'𝘀 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗢𝗻𝗲-𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀:  𝗼𝗻𝗲  ||  𝘁𝘄𝗼  || 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲

People say if you don’t like your job, then it’s not for you. That’s what your friends always told you when you would shyly mention your strict office job. The one that would have you coming in at odd hours and never allowing visitors of any kind. It was best that they saw you leave the house every day in a pencil skirt and tights. Because it wouldn’t raise any questions. After all, not many people can handle a lifestyle like this.

But you like your job. Despite all that you know and hear about from other people in the same or similar industries, you’ve lucked out. Because you actually like your job. The agency you’re working for and the clientele that they cater to means that every job complete earns you a very generous paycheck nearly day in and day out. The type of paycheck you would have to hide from your friends, even. But you suppose you have to hide just about everything when it comes to this type of job.

Because when you’re sucking the dicks and sittings on the faces of the highest-ranked Pro-Hereoes in all of Japan, you’re bound to want to keep it a secret from all who know you. Just like they’re bound to want to keep it secret from all of the world that they’ve been booking you for parties and solo sessions in their own apartments and agencies and other places. But that’s just what comes with the territory. It comes with the territory when you’re a hired whore for Japan’s greatest. 

So the secrecy is nothing new. Just like the meeting at one location only to be blindfolded and put into a car and shipped off to a second, more secret location is surprising and nothing new either. Just like seeing a set of cabins set up around a well-kept campground in the middle of the mountains when you’re finally allowed to take the blindfold off for just a few seconds is also nothing new. Because You’ve been hired to perform your services on retreats before. You’ve done the whole- service the entire company throughout the day while they’re supposed to be getting buddy-buddy with each other. Usually, while someone is ball-deep inside of you. 

So in your mind, this is nothing new. This is nothing special. Nothing to be concerned about.

But then you started hearing voices surrounding you. Voices that you’ve heard before. Voices that you can put faces to. Voices that belong to people who had appeared on TV and in interviews. Voices that belong to people that you’ve serviced before. Voices that belong to a group you swear work at UA High School. 

And suddenly, it makes perfect sense now that bodies are pressing up against yours, telling you how pretty you look while thanking some man named Nezu for “bringing out our favorite girl.” It makes perfect sense that everyone- every voice in the crowd that’s starting to mob you seems to know you with just one quick glance, even with the blindfold obscuring part of your face. It makes perfect sense that there are suddenly multiple pairs of lips pressing themselves against your skin in all the right spots, making you moan and gasp out in the way you know all your clients seem to like. Almost as if you're being hired and brought here has more to do with your pleasure than theirs.

Almost. 

You know people too well. You know these people too well. You know these people too well to know that they’re not too concerned with the fact that you can easily start calling out hero names of those who start undressing and running their hands all over your body. You know these people too well that they were holding back earlier- because very rarely do your clients not try to jump your bones at first sight. But right now, you’re not concerned about the sore pussy and throat that’s bound to be in your future. You’re not really concerned at all. That said, it’s not like exactly in a position of power right now either. 

The current position you’re in doesn’t offer much in terms of mobility. In fact, it’s much safer to say that you can’t move. They won’t let you. After all, you’re not theirs forever. In fact, if the mumbles you heard while you were being dragged away from the car and into the arms and cabins of the first group of people who got to indulge in your for the night were actually true, it sounds like you’re only here for half of their retreat. 

It’s a time frame that's just long enough for you to do your job. Just long enough for you to make them cum a few times while running down the clock. But also, just long enough for your clients to maybe consider keeping you for longer than what you’re supposed to be.

So long as you’re not completely opposed to the idea, of course. 

But at the moment, nobody is pitching your ideas. Nobody is talking to you about extending contracts or paying you under the counter if you just promise to stay a little bit longer than you’re supposed to. Nobody bringing anything of the sort up. Because they’re far too busy. Because they’re far too busy attending one of their meetings and wishing more than anything about how they desperately wish to have you. Or because they’re far too busy attending to you.

And you’re far too busy being attended to.

Right now, you’re not sure the chair whoever has you got on their lap is all that comfortable. It shifts and creaks and groans under the weight and force and pressure that’s under. It was meant for just one person to sit on, after all. Not one person, the hired whore he had sitting on his lap, and the all people currently surrounding the chair, trying to do anything in their power to have the hired whore help them get the release they’ve been desperately searching for. But things like this come with the job. The possibility of things getting rough. The possibility of things breaking. The possibility of them breaking you.

A very, very very real possibility given this particular crowd who is currently surrounding you. Including the special someone you’re currently sitting on. Although at this point, you’re more than comfortable calling that special someone by name. Because even if you didn’t know the voice right by your ear so well from all his appearances and from listening to his radio show during all the late nights when you would have to find your way home from work, you have a funny feeling that you would still be able to guess that guy with his cock buried in your ass at the moment is none other than Present Mic.

You’ve had a lot of gentle customers before. You’ve had a lot of people who never wanted to do more than just sit you on their lap and let one of your holes flutter and squeeze around whatever they put in their- fingers, strap-ons, dicks, vibrators, etc. You’ve even had a few people who wanted nothing more than to just have you grind against them while they kissed your lips and struggled to hold back their desire to mark you. Ruining the merchandise comes with a hefty fee, after all.

But Present Mic was more than just gentle. He was soft. During all the times you’ve been with him, he’s always made sure that his cock was plenty wet and you were plenty lubed up so he would cause any tears with that surprisingly thick cock of his. He would always give you ample time to adjust to feeling him inside of you and would allow you to move around as much as you needed to in order to get comfortable. But what made him stand out? What made it so you knew this was him? It was the fact that he was always humming and placing small, tiny kisses right behind your ear. Occasionally singing just loud enough that only you could hear about how you’re his pretty girl- his soft, sweet, gorgeous girl who deserves whatever she wants. 

And if he could sample your moans just to keep for himself, he would do it in a heartbeat.

But Present Mic and sweet murmurs and subtle rolls of his hips every couple of seconds to stay locked inside of you is just a far cry from the person who’s currently pounding away at your pussy at the moment. Once again- the blindfold keeps you from seeing just exactly who is causing you to whine and squeal as they manage to hits those spots deep inside of you that would have you drooling all over yourself if it weren’t for the cock in your mouth. But you have a funny feeling that it’s none other than Ersaerhead- the Erasure Hero. Because whenever you find yourself with Present Mic, you find that Ersaerhead never seems to be too far behind. Or in this case, in front of you.

And besides, you know those grunts of his a little too well. 

“Still so tight for me,” Eraserhead’s low mumble comes just by your ear, sending small shivers down your throat as his heavy tone only seems to add to the godly sensation of his cock dragging itself in and out of your warm, wet walls and keeping you stuffed full. He’s thicker than Present Mic by just a little bit. Such a fact makes it more appropriate for Present Mic always go for anal whenever the two of them get a chance to fuck you together. But doesn’t exactly make it all that easier for you to handle when Eraserhead’s tight grip on your thighs as he pries them up and open so he can fuck you harder than ever also jostles you in a way that has moving around Present Mic’s lap a little too. Something that the Voice Hero makes known to you by the way his own grip tightens around your waist to keep you in place as he tries his hisses and groans of pleasure. “Fuck, you make this who retreat worth it. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You let out another whine at his words, eyes starting to water behind your blindfold from the intensity of his fucking and from the small wave of emotions rolling over you. To be honest, you didn’t know that. You don’t get very many details about the types of events you’re booked for. For this one, you just knew that someone wanted you to come with them and one of their co-workers for a little bit of morale-boosting during a worker’s retreat. You wouldn’t have guessed that this was a UA-affiliated event before you got here and started to hear all the voices of people who you know are only connected through that school. And you didn’t exactly have enough time to think about what all that entails before a few members of the group started pulling you to the side and pulling off your clothes while the others went to start their first round of meetings. 

So no, you didn’t know that. You know about their bodies. You know how they treat pretty girls like you. You know how they like to use the bodies of pretty girls you, too. And sure, you always get the funny feeling that when you’re being booked for events like this, you’re serving as more of a distraction than anything else. But you still don’t know the ins and outs of these types of events and what you do for the people there except to give them an excuse to pull off their clothes and release some stress. 

So Ersaerhead’s words inspire something warm inside of you. The feeling of being appreciated. The feeling of being appreciated for a little more than just your body. Perhaps even for your presence. But as much as you wanted to respond be a good girl for the man who’s taking the time to do everything in his power to make sure stuffing your pussy full of his cock feels as good to you as does for him, you can’t respond. You can’t respond to his question. You just can’t.

And it’s all because of that cock that’s currently kissing the back of your throat. The very same cock that in your mind, still seems nearly too large to belong to a human.

Because no matter how much you try to deep throat it- no matter how much you try to find inside of your mouth with your years of experience- you can barely make it down a few inches. You can barely make it past the tip. It’s frustrating. It’s so frustrating that you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut and control your breathing and just try harder. Try harder to flatten your tongue. Try harder to open your jaw wider. Try harder to get him farther down your throat. But the cock inside of your mouth is not just long- it’s thick. It’s heavy in your mouth and leaves you with nothing to do but struggle and make a mess of yourself as his precum mixes with your saliva and pools all around your lips.

But as frustrating as it is, you know that it’s okay. You’re okay. Because the booming voice of Japan’s number one hero- the booming voice of All Might- still takes the time to remind you that you’re off just how far you’ve gone from when you were first starting out. From when you were first servicing him. 

“There you go, sweetheart.” All Might groans deep and low. His voice is still radiant. It still holds clear. But there’s something particularly attractive about how well his low moans and grumbles of measure mix in with the rest of the sounds in the room. In your mind, it’s almost as attractive as whenever he decides to have his large, large hands cup your jaw in an attempt to ease the pain and soreness he knows you’re suffering from just so you be a good girl and do what you’re told for him. “You’re taking me so well this time.”

Naturally, isn’t the first time you’ve sucked off the Symbol of Peace. But this is certainly the longest he’s been down your throat without you having to spit him out and take in oxygen like it was stolen away from you by the trickiest of thieves. And because of that, he takes extra care of making sure that you’re as comfortable as you can be. He doesn’t fuck your throat like you’re sure he wants to. 

Though you suppose the fact that the R-Rated Hero is behind standing behind the chair at the moment- reaching around and over the men whose cocks in currently situated in both your ass and pussy in order to hold your hair back and guide your head in a way that would best suck on All Might’s cock like the lollipop she keeps reminding you that it is. 

Although Midnight’s help in directing the scene isn’t quite necessary for you to have a good time anymore because years in this service have taught you how to speak up for yourself, you find that it’s much appreciated. There’s still some part of you that get so disoriented when someone ties a blindfold tight around your eyes while someone else forgets that you just can’t magically find the dick in front of you that someone wants you to jerk off. There’s still some part of you that appreciates another woman there, convincing you to push yourself harder and harder- reminding you of what your body’s true limits are too.

That, and the fact that she keeps whispering hushed words about how she promises she’ll take you aside tonight when everyone’s asleep and have you squirting all over her tongue the second she can get her hands on you is also very appreciated. And something you already know you’re looking forward to. 

But that’s a couple hours from now. And as good as the future sounds, what you’re dealing with presently certainly comes with its own excitements. Because just now, Present Mic has begun to roll his hips into yours a little faster, now finding it in him to empty his load inside of you. Though the fact that Ersaerhead had just now begun to reach down and let his skillful hands and find your clit- making you moan and whine “so sweetly for him, only” may have something to do with that. And it doesn’t help that Midnight had just guided your lips from All Might’s cock with a lewd and audible pop as she eased your head in a different direction so you could start sucking someone else’s dick. Much to the Symbol of Peace’s displeasure. 

But that’s just what you have to deal with when you’re servicing for a group. That’s just what you have to deal with a group has to share you for a retreat. There’s the added promise of having a pretty girl and all her holes open for use as long as she's treated well before, during, and afterward. 

But that’s not something you feel the need to concern yourself with. Any issues they have with each other, they can sort out with each other. There’s no need for you to get involved. There’s no need for you to step in at all. Because after all, you’re just the hired whore- the special little sex worker for Pro-Heroes and for Pro-Heroes alone. And besides…this retreat right now? This session right now?

It’s for you as much as it’s for them too.

[gerec]

For the past couple of weeks I've been part of a small team responsible for the logistics of a prestigious competition/event; last night was the formal Awards Banquet where we were served an amazing dinner catered by one of the city's best restaurants. During the breaks where we weren't running the show/working, I had a very long and in-depth conversation with a young colleague who's worked on this project all the way from the beginning planning stages (i.e. as far back as Feb/Mar this year). She shared her disappointment with the lack of acknowledgement that she's gotten from the agency's management for all the long hours and hard work she's poured into this project, and also the incredible frustration over the poor treatment she's getting from the same. For instance, she flew in from out of town, but because she's contracted to work 4 out of 5 days a week they're not paying her for today's travel day back home (which if you don't know is standard practice for event management - travel time is part of the job). This is just one of a long list of examples she shared with me.

The good news is, she's already decided to quit at the end of her contract (which is soon), but she still had some misgivings about doing so; like asking herself what, if anything, she could have done differently, and feeling like she failed because this is her first job out of uni and she couldn't make a longer go of it. For the record, she's an absolute delight and a superb employee - and if I were in a position to hire staff I would hire her in a heart beat. (Also she's been full time for a year and part time for 2 before that so...she's absolutely not leaving without giving it a go.)

I guess I'm sharing this story because there might be young people like her out there who need to hear what I told her last night. So here goes:

Yes, work can be frustrating and can suck - badly - at times, but you should not hesitate to leave any job where you're crying on a regular basis because of how stressful it is and how badly you're treated.

Yes, you should leave a job where your manager berates you regularly, or sends you emails on weekends/outside of work hours to berate you. If they have an issue with your performance, they should explain what you're doing wrong and help you or give you the tools to do it properly not just yell at you. I know this happens a lot (sadly) but also know that this is NOT normal and NOT something you simply have to suffer in silence over. You have every right to expect to be treated fairly, courteously and professionally at work.

Yes, you should leave a job where people take advantage of you and don't pay you for the hours you work. I read a lot about Gen X and Boomers lamenting the Gen Z's for not being good workers because they're not willing to put in the blood sweat and tears to hang on to their jobs but I'm Gen X and I say that's BULLSHIT. A) Not every Boomer/Gen X feels that way, and B) Employers, no matter how nice they are as people, or how much you might like them will absolutely take advantage of you and SCREW YOU if they can. You can and should fight for your every goddamned hard-earned/well deserved dollar because no one else will do it for you. Same goes for your career - you are the only one you can rely on to make the best decisions for you.

So why am I working with these guys? Well, I'm a freelancer (I'm a Marketing Consultant) currently going project by project so I have the freedom to say no to any job I don't want to take and also to walk away the minute it no longer suits me to continue the relationship. I've also been at this for 28 years, so I imagine there's a bit of reverse ageism going on because they know they can't pull the same crap with me. (So there you go, this one time in this one instance, being older helps lol).

Anyways, the job market is rough, many employers are appallingly rude to job seekers (ask me about ghost job postings some time UGH) and people can be dicks (water is wet ha). Just...know your own worth and don't feel bad about leaving something if it's not working - you owe loyalty to no one but yourself.

[spacemilkies]

stress management

pairing: könig x reader

rqt: [] yes [x] no

wc: 1.5k

a/n: i promised to write about this fandom ages ago but got distracted as usual. but hey, can we talk about this new autosave feature. saved a life today.

synopsis: könig knows how to fix a very bad, no good day

warnings: on the job stress. fingering. könig is a literally a king

if he knows one thing, könig knows a lot about hard limits. he grew up on the cusp surviving the severity of emotional cruelty at a young age. so he, subjectively, knew better than anyone the signs of a very bad, no good day. 

he was pre-warned throughout the day by both colleagues and indirectly yourself. his off-days were few and far between and rarely matched with yours, so he spent the first three hours straightening up the flat when he got the text about the surprise inspection.

 being part of the special forces did not excuse unscheduled routine checks and more often than not it never failed to catch soldiers off guard. he was one of those, metaphorically caught with his pants below the knees more than once. the job came with many expectations, it was impossible to keep up with them all.

but you. 

you were a perfectionist, priding yourself with promptness and precision. as a weapons specialist, your caches were always primed and ready. you were so particular, it had become normal for you to customize specific loadouts for different teams and specializations. each freight equipped with situation fixed accessories and artillery. 

it set you up for a lot of success but equally as much failure on the wrong day. 

the warning came from fender, the demolitionist expert whom praised you as his saving grace on more than one occasion. könig trusted him to watch your back in the field in his absence, the tacked on friendship came later after the result of too many beers and a local football match. 

you valued all your loadouts, but there were a few that picked up dust. the speciality meant that you catered to all factions, but lately kortac favored tactical contestation over free-roam agency. a forgotten division that apparently took precedence today, and unfortunately you off guard.

there was no telling the severity of the reprimand, for something as simple as a short bullet count could count towards you. but he knew your reliability favored higher than the marks. it wouldn't stain your record, but it would certainly ruin your day. 

könig had given you an hour after receiving the news to see if you would seek him out. he had no doubt that you would spend the rest of the day clearing and taking inventory of every cache on deck and likely recalling some others. when it became apparent that you weren't in the mood for comfort, he decided to strategize another approach.

it became increasingly apparent just how much the failed inspection wore down on you when you arrive home in a /mood. könig was ready, however, alerted by the pointed click of the front door closing. 

he’s a picture of openness, relaxed comfortably against the wall adjoining the kitchen and the hall as you kick away your shoes and stack them neatly at the door. he always finds it adorable how your persistence to structure is retained regardless of any emotion. it’s what makes you so good at your job and so proud. 

könig knows though, that now is not the time to mention work, instead opting to great you with his usual kiss and squeeze at the waist. you never withhold affection when it comes to external factors, though your reciprocation is a muted affair. 

könig matches your reservation at first, cataloging your stiff posture and rigid movements. he can see the tension taut in every muscle of your body, more obvious in the way you handle appliances and when your back is turned to him.

he knows you’re not yet ready to talk about it, so he offers peace another route, attentive to your reaction as he slides against you from behind. between the two of you, it’s difficult to catch one another off guard with your actions, on the job training making it imperative to be cognitive of your surrounds. 

so he’s assured that his approach is consented if not yet wholly welcomed as his fingers deftly unravel your hand from whatever you have in your grasp. könig is aware that he has a lot of ground to cover in the short range of your allowance before you catch on. he swallows your instinctive complaint, coaxing you into a rhythm of lips and tongue distinctive to your relationship. 

it’s a difficult angle for him to kiss, and likely stiff your neck to meet him over your shoulder due to his height, but it’s a perfect way to keep you secure. with the right tactic, he only needs a few minutes to effectively bring you down a few notches.

he loves when you curl beautifully into his touch, the role of a nurturer falling seamlessly into his palms when you allow yourself to be pliable like this. the two of you share the role, knowing when taking the mantle is necessary. könig has never let his size dictate a relationship, preferring to rely on healthy communication to assign what was needed in any giving situation.

you gasp into his mouth when his knuckles first brush against heat of your sex beneath your pants. the way you immediately latch onto the gesture and draw your hips away from the counter in invitation, give him all the approval he needs to make quick work of your fastenings. 

he planed for it all to be hasty but thorough. just enough to workout the initial frustrations before offering you the soundbox and a meal. he knew from experience that not all things could be talked out, but effective comfort could come from other gestures of affection. if all you wanted was an orgasm and hot shower, he’d pluck your strings until only he could keep you upright then carry you to the bath himself.

könig moves the articles of clothing out of place rather than pulling them down, easily finding the elastic at your inner thigh and slipping his fingers underneath. he is ready when your knees go weak, his free arm holding you at the waist as he slides a digit into the stretch of your body. you’re no longer invested in his offered kiss, so he pulls away in favor of blooming small red blossoms against the skin of your throat as his thumb strokes your pearl with each punctuated nip of his teeth.

the rate at which you wet his fingers only strengthens his decision to go down this route as he adds another finger to your weeping entrance, teasing them into a slow thrust that already has you tightening in anticipation. the hidden danger of a calculating mind gave way for perceptiveness to detail as he stroked your most sensitive walls with practiced ease.

the flat of his tongue traces the line of your jaw, the even exhale through his nose leaving a slight chill against the dampness left behind. “no matter what sours your day, i will be here to make it better,” he promises against your ear.

he’s aware that he makes it impossible for you to reply, but it’s intentional. for now he just wants you to feel— soak in all his love and adoration until is washes away everything on the opposite side of the threshold of the door. 

your head drops back against his shoulder, as your hips undulate with the rise of your toes as you attempt to meet him on each upward drive you’re sure the roses he’s littered against the column of your throat have brightened under the heat of your flush, projecting as beacon of your obvious pleasure. 

any thoughts of returning the favor are effectively cut off by a twist of his wrist as the calloused pads of his fingers create friction with a bundle of nerves. 

it’s tacky and slick as he glides through your passage. a particular angle brings him knuckle deep, as his thumb continues to rotate in circles without rest. you’re well gone by this point but he exhausts the point by crooking his touch inward to produce white spots in your vision as your eyes flutter shut. your body trembles with the effort of wading through the anticipation as pleasure coils in your stomach and radiates to pressure at the base of your spine.

somehow your threshold allows you to pinpoint the roundness of his nose as it meets the crown of your head. the tone of his voice dropping as his fingers widen to spread you open to his touch,” let go, little maus.”

and you follow the command like a wave pulling you to the sea, the sensations lapping over you in a consistent current. könig remains insistent, blunt nail scraping hypersensitive tissue until you squirm. he hums a note of satisfaction as you squeeze one last time before going limp in his hold.

you inhale sharply when his touch leaves you, but voice no complaint when soiled his fingers run excessively over your thighs to get rid of some of your release still clinging to them.

his lips return to your hairline, and there’s a delay before you realize the movement is intended to form words.

“…now then, tell me about your day.”

you can 100% send me your thots on this man. i can go on for days

[familyagrestefanblog]

I've tried so many times making whole in depth posts about this, but I never get it done properly. So I'll just keep it very brief for now:

Marinette giving out every miraculous at the end of S5, so making a team of 16 additional miraculous holders now as full time heros she says she wants to help coming into their own as their leader and guardian, is the most hilarious dark red sign I've ever seen in this show

Marinette can barely handle Chat Noir being an individual with his own pov, actual emotions she has to acknowledge in her leadership, agency that isn't just catering to her and having human rights attached to his body (at least that she got better at in s5, although it's questionable how much that was influenced by her literally having no other choice in s5 but to treat him better. I guess s6 will put that into perspective)

and in s5 both Chat and Alya were two halves of ONE PARTNER bc Chat had to accept that he isn't allowed to exist as civilian in Ladybug's leadership, all while both Alya and Chat had to basically take care of her as their main job.

What makes Marinette THINK she can handle 16 new miraculous holders who act as individuals with existing LIVES, and not just being her chosen power vessels who can't act on their own?

Just the thought of it honestly makes me laugh because nothing in Canon implies Marinette's leadership can actually handle heros doing their own thing as individuals. She will have a meltdown when any of them act on their own as heros of Paris in any greater way.

Imagine Vesperia being put on spot by being near a robbery and her using her venom on a civilian person (the robber) and then Cerise has the police go up against her and Ladybug as the team leader for abuse of power?

Imagine Pigella using her powers on people who are having a personal fight and then her getting in trouble because she revealed the private wish of someone to everyone around them.

Imagine Kim and Max training alone by Ladybug's order, and Max making portals so Kim can improve his time to get certain objects from different places, and that resulting in people being pissed at the heros breaking and entering their private homes and taking their stuff however they please as "training"

Look, I don't wanna be mean but I give her a god damn WEEK before she starts giving teammates (100% Kim for example) Chat Noir's rag doll treatment and starting to yell and get angry again bc they're doing something she personally doesn't like at an inconvenient time, or something she gets in trouble for as their leader.

Before this the temp heros has the luxury of only having been ask to do exactly what Ladybug said as her minions and power vessels, but now that they are individuals?

Good gosh, it's gonna be a disaster. Cerise is gonna have the time of her life using the team and city again her lol

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

WIP Wednesday- reverse sugarbaby au

Based off of this post that led me to a Sashnetra idea last week. Thank you to @sweetlikesunflowersandhoney for brainstorming with me

Anetra never intended to live her life as a social media starlet. If it was up to her, she’d compete in taekwondo until her body would make her stop. Then, she would coach until retirement. 

But that’s not how it worked out for her. She wasn’t bad at taekwondo, she was one of the top national competitors. It was getting scouted by an agent from a modeling agency that turned her career around. 

“You’re hot, and women’s sports are gaining a lot of traction right now.” the agency told her. “Just one photoshoot, that’s all we ask.”

One small photoshoot eventually became an Instagram account half a million followers and constant events and meetings with the press. They moved her from Las Vegas to Los Angeles as soon as her schedule got too packed for taekwondo.

After a few short years of reaching fame, another event was winding down to an end. It was for her new line of leggings with a brand she’s worked with before. Her face on the promotional banner was getting folded into a box as all the guests were gone. 

She watched the caterers take back all the food to the small kitchen in the venue. Her driver got a flat tire and was running late.

Anetra wandered down a nearby hallway that led to the kitchen storage. She stopped when she saw the lead caterer dispersing envelopes to the rest of them. 

“Here’s everyone’s schedule for next weekend’s charity gala at the downtown Hilton. It’s going to take a few hours for us to set up, so be there on time at 8 AM, sharp.” the lead caterer instructed. 

One woman with a long dark ponytail raised her hand slightly, “I asked off for next weekend, I’m taking my daughter to the zoo that day,”  she explained. 

The lead caterer shrugged, “Irene said that she was helping her sister move, so I needed someone to work her shift,” The woman’s eyes were looking at the floor as she nodded, “You can take your kid another day,” she said as she continued to talk about the gala instead. 

Anetra felt a pang in her chest as she moved out of view from the employees. This stranger somehow moved something in her. Maybe it was knowing her mom wouldn’t feel the same remorse, or maybe it was something else. 

The caterers left the huddle, moving to start their nightly jobs. Anetra peeked around the corner to see the same woman tuck the envelope in her purse on the table. 

“Maybe next time, Kerri,” she said with a small smile, standing alone.

“Sasha, can you start mopping?” another voice called. 

The woman nodded, “Yeah, I’m coming!” she called before leaving for the other room. 

Anetra knew what she needed to do. Just a simple random act of kindness for a stranger she’ll never meet again. 

[pussyandpetrichor]

Imo, the fact PCap Doctor was a trans woman is why the Doctor regenerated into a character played by a woman. And, of course, PCap's egg was cracked by Gomez!Master/Missy who by actual chance regenerated into a woman but fully embraced the transition and loved their new form. Though one might consider World Enough and Time where Missy meets Simm!Master and teaches him how to apply eyeliner as Missy cracking her own egg from the future. PCap!Doctor has dysphoria which affects the subsequent regeneration.

In contrast, I think the Doctor's mind reverts to their basic form in regeneration which I actually do think is "man". The way I see it, Hartnell!Doctor was a trans man.

A diversion to clarify what gender is to Time Lords in my headcanons.

What is gender? Gender is a social construct that dictates what the dominant culture expects from you in terms of capabilities in certain fields, jobs you can/should do, your political standing, and what colors it is socially appropriate for you to wear. Sometimes, there are school that exist only to cater to members of the designated gender. As such, gender is most closely associated with Chapter in Time Lord society.

The Doctor was assigned to the Pryxonian Chapter. Chapter transition can only happen in a couple of ways -- by norms, one cannot transition from one Chapter to another, one can only leave the Chapter framework. By indication from a Faction Paradox nov, a Time Lord who becomes a renegade can officially remove themself from their position in their Chapter and their given name. Alternatively, there is indication that joining the Celestial Intervention Agency is the other way to transition beyond the so-called gender senary. You have a different expectation of clothing -- the black and white robes -- and a new job that appears to be able to be taken on regardless of Chapter assignment. Interestingly, being a Renegade and being a CIA agent are both groups known for going off-world.

The Doctor went renegade and has taken on a new name as well as his given name being struck from the official record. This could indicate that he has undergone a Semantectomy (the official name for the name removal from Faction Paradox). As such, it can be assessed that the Doctor is canonically "trans", though with a little semantic shuffling. A Semantectomy is the process of taking on a new name while disavowing onself from the chapter/gender one was originally assigned.

The Doctor has then taken on presentational traits indicative and inspired by human men. And while has had a number of refusals of the label "man" (see: Pertwee, McGann, Tennant, and of course Capaldi Doctors) is still able to and generally does move through human society under the auspices of male gender presentation. And then see how incredibly uncomfortable Jodie Whittaker's Doctor is every time that Doctor is referred to as a woman. The Doctor has an incredibly palpable sense of dysphoria, even coming down to out of character terminology where Jodie Whittaker rejects the instinct of fans to refer to her Doctor as a Time Lady, asserting that she is still a Time Lord.

I know this began with an expectation that I was talking about my understanding of Peter Capaldi's Doctor as a trans woman, which exists in this context and also with the perception of Gomez/PCap as a t4t transfem couple, but that serves as a part of the larger conversation about the Doctor's gender.

Is it any wonder that this show is what cracked my egg?

[shinelikethunder]

Hello there! I hope you don’t mind me just dropping into your asks like this, but by all means def feel free to just delete this if so, it is kind of a weird ask.

This is the anon from the computer blog asking about a private laptop for collage! After doing (a small amount of) research into Linux, one thing that’s super confusing to me, is… how does one know which distro to use? You mentioned in the replies of the post that you use Ubuntu Linux, which seems to be one of the more popular ones. Would you recommend — and if so, why? Is it good for privacy, do you think? The best? Does the user need to have a good deal of experience with computers to keep it running? (I’ve never used a laptop before but I don’t mind trying to learn stuff)

Also this is an EXTREMELY stupid question my apologies, but how….. exactly do you put Linux on a laptop? OP from my ask said to buy a laptop with no OS but is that something you can do? I’d think so, since 0P works with computer and stuff as their job, but Reddit says that it’s not really possible and that you should just “buy like a Windows laptop and scrap the software”??? Is that… correct? How did you install Linux on your laptop — did y ou have to remove software off it or did you, as OP says, manage to find a laptop with no OS?

Again, feel free to ignore if you don’t wanna put in the time/effort to reply to this, I absolutely don’t mind — it’s a lot of stuff I’m asking and you didn’t invite it all, so ofc feel free to delete the ask if you’d like!

ha, you've zeroed in on one of the big reasons Linux is kind of a contrarian choice for me to recommend: the wild proliferation of distros, many of them hideously complex to work with. luckily, the fact that most of them are niche offshoots created by and for overly-technical nerds makes the choice easier: you don't want those. you want one of the largest, best-supported, most popular ones, with a reputation for being beginner-friendly. the two biggies are Ubuntu and Linux Mint; i'd recommend focusing your research there.

this isn't JUST a popularity-contest thing: the more people use it, the more likely you are to find answers if you're having trouble or plugging a weird error message into google, and the greater the variety of software you'll find packaged for easy install in that distro. some combination of professional and broad-based community support means you'll find better documentation and tutorials, glitches will be rarer and get fixed faster, and the OS is less likely to be finicky about what hardware it'll play nice with. the newbie-friendly ones are designed to be a breeze to install and to not require technical fiddling to run them for everyday tasks like web browsing, document editing, media viewing, file management, and such.

info on installation, privacy, personal endorsement, etc under the cut. tl;dr: most computers can make you a magic Linux-installing USB stick, most Linuces are blessedly not part of the problem on privacy, Ubuntu i can firsthand recommend but Mint is probably also good.

almost all Linux distros can be assumed to be better for privacy than Windows or MacOS, because they are working from a baseline of Not Being One Of The Things Spying On You; some are managed by corporations (Ubuntu is one of them), but even those corporations have to cater to a notoriously cantankerous userbase, so most phoning-home with usage data tends to be easy to turn off and sponsored bullshit kept minimally intrusive. the one big exception i know of is Google's bastard stepchild ChromeOS, which you really don't want to be using, for a wide variety of reasons. do NOT let someone talk you into installing fucking Qubes or something on claims that it's the "most private" or "most secure" OS; that's total user-unfriendly overkill unless you have like a nation-state spy agency or something targeting you, specifically.

how to install Linux is also not a dumb question! back in the day, if you wanted to, say, upgrade a desktop computer from Windows 95 to Windows 98, you'd receive a physical CD-ROM disc whose contents were formatted to tell the computer "hey, i'm not a music CD or a random pile of backup data or a piece of software for the OS to run, i want you to run me as the OS next time you boot up," and then that startup version would walk you through the install.

nowadays almost anyone with a computer can create a USB stick that'll do the same thing: you download an Ubuntu installer and a program that can perform that kind of formatting, plug in the USB stick, tell the program to put the installer on it and make it bootable, and then once it's done, plug the USB stick into the computer you want to Linuxify and turn it on.

Ubuntu has an excellent tutorial for every step of the install process, and an option to do a temporary test install so you can poke around and see how you like it without pulling the trigger irreversibly: https://ubuntu.com/tutorials/install-ubuntu-desktop

having a way to create a bootable USB stick is one reason to just get a Windows computer and then let the Linux installer nuke everything (which i think is the most common workflow), but in a pinch you can also create the USB on a borrowed/shared computer and uninstall the formatter program when you're done. i don't have strong opinions on what kind of laptop to get, except "if you do go for Linux, be sure to research in advance whether the distro is known to play nice with your hardware." i'm partial to ThinkPads but that's just, like, my opinion, man. lots of distros' installers also make it dead simple to create a dual-boot setup where you can pick between Windows and Linux at every startup, which is useful if you know you might have to use Windows-only software for school or something. keep in mind, though, that this creates two little fiefdoms whose files and hard-disk space aren't shared at all, and it is not a beginner-friendly task to go in later and change how much storage each OS has access to.

i've been using the distro i'm most familiar with as my go-to example throughout, but i don't really have a strong opinion on Ubuntu vs Mint, simply because i haven't played around with Mint enough to form one. Ubuntu i'll happily recommend as a beginner-friendly version of Linux that's reasonably private by default. (i think there's like one install step where Canonical offers paid options, telemetry, connecting online accounts, etc, and then respects your "fuck off" and doesn't bug you about it again.) by reputation, Mint has a friendlier UI, especially for people who are used to Windows, and its built-in app library/"store" is slicker but offers a slightly more limited ecosystem of point-and-click installs.

(unlike Apple and Google, there are zero standard Linux distros that give a shit if you manually install software from outside the app store, it's just a notoriously finicky process that could take two clicks or could have you tearing your hair out at 3am. worth trying if the need arises, but not worth stressing over if you can't get it to work.)

basic software starter-pack recommendations for any laptop (all available on Windows and Mac too): Firefox with the uBlock Origin and container tab add-ons, VLC media player, LibreOffice for document editing. the closest thing to a dealbreaking pain in the ass about Linux these days (imo) is that all the image and video editing software i know of is kinda janky in some way, so if that's non-negotiable you may have to dual-boot... GIMP is the godawfully-clunky-but-powerful Photoshop knockoff, and i've heard decent things about Pinta as a mid-weight image editor roughly equivalent to Paint.net for Windows.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 19, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Sep 20, 2024

Yesterday morning, NPR reported that U.S. public health data are showing a dramatic drop in deaths from drug overdoses for the first time in decades. Between April 2023 and April 2024, deaths from street drugs are down 10.6%, with some researchers saying that when federal surveys are updated, the decline will be even more pronounced. Such a decline would translate to 20,000 deaths averted.

With more than 70,000 Americans dying of opioid overdoses in 2020 and numbers rising, the Biden-Harris administration prioritized disrupting the supply of illicit fentanyl and other synthetic drugs. They worked to seize the drugs at ports of entry, sanctioned more than 300 foreign people and agencies engaged in the global trade in illicit drugs, and arrested and prosecuted dozens of high-level Mexican drug traffickers and money launderers. 

In March 2023 the Biden-Harris administration made naloxone, a medicine that can prevent fatal opioid overdoses, available over the counter. The administration invested more than $82 billion in treatment, and the Department of Health and Human Services worked to get the treatment into the hands of first responders and family members. 

Addressing the crisis of opioid deaths meant careful, coordinated policies.

Also today, markets all over the world climbed after the Fed yesterday cut interest rates for the first time in four years. In the U.S., the S&P 500, which tracks the stock performance of 500 of the biggest companies on U.S. stock exchanges, the Nasdaq Composite, which is weighted toward the information technology sector, and the Dow Jones Industrial Average, an older index that tracks 30 prominent companies listed on U.S. stock exchanges, all hit new records. The rate cut indicated to traders that the U.S. has, in fact, managed to pull off the soft landing President Joe Biden and Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen worked to achieve. They have kept job growth steady, normalized economic growth and inflation, and avoided a recession. 

As they have done so, the major U.S. stock indices have had what The Guardian's Callum Jones calls “an extraordinary year.” Jones notes that the S&P 500 is up more than 20% since the beginning of 2024, the Nasdaq Composite has risen 22%, and the Dow Jones Industrial Average has gone up 11%.

Bringing the U.S. economy out of the pandemic more successfully than any other major economically developed country meant clear goals and principles, and careful, informed adjustments.

And yet the big story today is that Republican North Carolina lieutenant governor Mark Robinson frequented porn sites, where between 2008 and 2012 he wrote that he enjoyed watching transgender pornography; referred to himself as a “black NAZI!”; called for reinstating human enslavement and wrote, “I would certainly buy a few”; called the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. a “f*cking commie bastard”; wrote that he preferred Adolf Hitler to former president Barack Obama; referred to Black, Jewish, Muslim, and gay people with slurs; said he doesn’t care about abortions (“I don’t care. I just wanna see the sex tape!” he wrote); and recounted that he had secretly watched women in the showers in a public gym as a 14-year-old. Andrew Kaczynski and Em Steck of CNN, who broke the story, noted that “CNN is reporting only a small portion of Robinson’s comments on the website given their graphic nature.”

After the first story broke, Natalie Allison of Politico broke another: that Robinson was registered on the Ashley Madison website, which caters to married people seeking affairs. 

Robinson is running for governor of North Carolina. He has attacked transgender rights, called for a six-week abortion ban without exceptions for rape or incest, mocked survivors of school shootings, and—after identifying a wide range of those he saw as enemies to America and to “conservatives”—told a church audience that “some folks need killing.”

That this scandal dropped on the last possible day Robinson could drop out of the race suggests it was pushed by Republicans themselves because they recognize that Robinson is dragging Trump and other Republican candidates down in North Carolina. But here’s the thing: Republican voters knew who Robinson was, and they chose him anyway. 

Indeed, his behavior is not all that different from that of a number of the Republican candidates in this cycle, including former president Trump, the Republican nominee for president. Representative Virginia Foxx (R-NC) embraced Robinson’s candidacy, and House speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) welcomed “NC’s outstanding Lt. Governor” to a Republican-led House Judiciary Committee meeting “on the importance of election integrity.” “He brought the truth with clarity and conviction—and everyone should hear what he had to say!” Johnson posted to social media. Robinson spoke at the Republican National Convention.

The difference between the Democrats and the Republicans in this election is stark, and it reflects a systemic problem that has been growing in the U.S. since the 1980s. 

Democracy depends on at least two healthy political parties that can compete for voters on a level playing field. Although the men who wrote the Constitution hated the idea of political parties, they quickly figured out that parties tie voters to the mechanics of Congress and the presidency.

And they do far more than that. Before political thinkers legitimized the idea of political opposition to the king, disagreeing with the person in charge usually led to execution or banishment for treason. Parties allowed for the idea of loyal and legitimate opposition, which in turn allowed for the peaceful transition of power. That peaceful exchange enabled the people to choose their leaders and leaders to relinquish power safely. Parties also create a system for criticizing people in power, which helps to weed out corrupt or unfit leaders.

But those benefits of a party system depend on a level political playing field for everyone, so that a party must constantly compete for voters by testing which policies are most popular and getting rid of the corrupt or unstable leaders voters would reject. 

In the 1980s, radical Republican leaders set out to dismantle the government that regulated business, provided a basic social safety net, promoted infrastructure, and protected civil rights. But that system was popular, and to overcome the majority who favored it, they began to tip the political playing field in their direction. They began to suppress voting by Democrats by insisting that Democrats were engaging in “voter fraud.” At the same time, they worked to delegitimize their opponents by calling them “socialists” or “communists” and claiming that they were trying to destroy the United States. By the 1990s, extremists in the party were taking power by purging traditional Republicans from it.

And yet, voters still elected Democrats, and after they put President Barack Obama into the White House in 2008, the Republican State Leadership Committee in 2010 launched Operation REDMAP, or Redistricting Majority Project. The plan was to take over state legislatures so Republicans would control the new district maps drawn after the 2010 census, especially in swing states like Florida, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin. It worked, and Republican legislatures in those states and elsewhere carved up state maps into dramatically gerrymandered districts.

In those districts, the Republican candidates were virtually guaranteed election, so they focused not on attracting voters with popular policies but on amplifying increasingly extreme talking points to excite the party’s base. That drove the party farther and farther to the right. By 2012, political scientists Thomas Mann and Norm Ornstein warned that the Republican Party had “become an insurgent outlier in American politics. It is ideologically extreme; scornful of compromise; unmoved by conventional understanding of facts, evidence and science; and dismissive of the legitimacy of its political opposition.”

At the same time, the skewed playing field meant that candidates who were corrupt or bonkers did not get removed from the political mix after opponents pounced on their misdeeds and misstatements, as they would have been in a healthy system. Social media poster scary lawyerguy noted that the story about Robinson will divert attention from the lies about Haitian immigrants eating pets, which diverted attention from Trump’s abysmal debate performance, which diverted attention from Trump’s filming a campaign ad at Arlington National Cemetery. 

When a political party has so thoroughly walled itself off from the majority, there are two options. One is to become full-on authoritarian and suppress the majority, often with violence. Such a plan is in Project 2025, which calls for a strong executive to take control of the military and the judicial system and to use that power to impose his will.    

The other option is that enough people in the majority reject the extremists to create a backlash that not only replaces them, but also establishes a level playing field.  

The Republican Party is facing the reality that it has become so extreme it is hemorrhaging former supporters and mobilizing a range of critics. Today the Catholic Conference of Ohio rebuked those who spread lies about Haitian immigrants—Republican presidential candidate Trump and vice presidential candidate J.D. Vance were the leading culprits—and Teamsters councils have rejected the decision of the union’s board not to make an endorsement this year and have endorsed Democratic presidential candidate Vice President Kamala Harris. Some white evangelicals are also distancing themselves from Trump. 

And then, tonight, Trump told a Jewish group that if he loses, it will be the fault of Jewish Americans. "I will put it to you very simply and gently: I really haven't been treated right, but you haven't been treated right because you're putting yourself in great danger."

Mark Robinson has said he will not step aside.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[heykoonsy]

Word Count: 3.8k+

Pairing: Husk x Angel Dust (HuskerDust/AngelHusk), slight Angel Dust x OC

Summary: "Give him everything but your ass.” Angel Dust was tasked with one job: convince the investor to subsidize Valentino’s agency. Angel was more of a closer to Valentino, enticing the wealthier of his associates into funding projects for him. However, this latest pitch didn’t go as planned and Angel’s hubris prevented him from seeing the potential drawbacks of a one night stand with someone Valentino marked. In this slow burn love story, Angel must confront the worst parts of himself if he is going to win back his career.

Content Warnings: Rated 18+ for foul language

Author's Note: Figured I would post this since it's all finished.

Angel Dust grabbed for the lighter next to his abandoned pack of cigarettes. Next, he picked up the vanilla scented candle he’d recently picked out. With a strike of the lighter, he lit the wick. The glow of the candle illuminated his calm smile. After putting down the candle, he sat on his bed, taking in the room. 

He’d been keeping to himself these last few days–taking what little time he had between shoots to clean. It took him a few days to sort through all of his laundry and toss out the shredded and stained garments. Afterwards, he had to reorganize his closet. What was once an unkempt mess was now the picture of cleanliness. Every shirt had a hanger, every skirt had a drawer. Every pair of shoes had its place at the bottom of his closet. 

He’d even made time to go through his makeup and toss out the expired products. Not to mention he’d been able to deep clean the carpeted floors. Even the mattress he sat on was cleaned–adorned with fresh sheets. He’d also washed Fat Nuggets’ pig bed so that he would have a comfortable place to lay now that he didn’t have a plethora of laundry piles to pick from. 

Speaking of Fat Nuggets, he was currently getting water from his new fountain. Angel clasped his hands together watching him move over to his little section of their room. He lay back on the bed, his back hitting the soft sheets. He looked up at the ceiling, content with all that he’d accomplished. In truth, he owed this victory to Husk for kicking him in the pants. 

He was living like a slob these last few months. Well really his whole life–topside included. Angel was never the neatest person, but he didn’t have to be. Other people enabled him for as long as he could remember. And in Hell it was no different. But, perhaps that was the problem. With sycophants ready and willing to accept him as he was, and not implore him to do better, this was all was expected of him. Angel had to do better, he realized. So he would. There was never much fun in chores–but chores meant that he was at least catering to his basic needs. 

That didn’t mean that he still couldn’t have fun. Never. He still wanted to drink and dance and do things like shop and eat out. But he’d at least start putting in an effort to do his fucking laundry. That way Fat Nuggets didn’t have to worry about his bed being obscured by a mountain of Angel’s discarded outfits. 

Angel inhaled the vanilla scent around him, savoring it. He looked forward to doing absolutely nothing today–intent on focusing on self-care today. 

But then his phone started to buzz from across the room. 

Angel groaned, and looked at the screen. Jax was calling. 

“Yeah?”

“Mr. Valentino has requested that you attend a meeting with a business partner of his in his stead.”

Angel Dust perked up. Had he heard him right? Val was asking him to oversee a pitch meeting? Angel stood quickly and blew out his candle. 

“When’s the meetin’?” 

“Two hours, a car will be sent for you.” 

Angel heard a click and immediately began searching through his closet. Once he tossed his phone on the bed behind him, he started moving apart the hangers with all four of his hands. He needed something more…elegant. A pencil skirt at the most, with no shoulder pads. Angel tapped his fingers absentmindedly on his upper arms, peering into the many drawers his closet now had. 

Then, it hit him. If he remembered correctly, there was one top he could wear with some high-waisted black trousers. Angel found the blouse quickly enough. It was a sleeveless white tank with a high neckline. He also pulled out a hot pink blazer he’d taken off set from when he played an overbearing girlboss. As for the high-waisted trousers, they were skin tight and long with white buttons. He would be able to wear a pair of classy black pumps with them without issue. 

Angel threw all of his chosen clothing onto the bed behind him. First, he’d shower. Then he’d style his hair for the occasion–not much. He didn’t want to appear overdressed or too done up. This was a simple pitch meeting, nothing too exciting. But still, he wanted to conduct himself well so that if Val wanted to give him other responsibilities, he could do so without worry.

Without any more delay, Angel Dust hopped into the shower and removed the layer of dust and dirt he’d accumulated after cleaning every nook and cranny of his room. He knew that he’d be spending the most of his time drying off, so he was quick beneath the water. Once he was out, he clad himself in a towel and sat at his vanity. 

First things first, he blew out his hair with the hair dryer, giving the fluff at the top of his head a distinct and flirty curl. Next he began applying his makeup, dragging a wand of mascara through his lashes, and choosing a classy nude shade of lipstick. He puckered his lips, smiling at his reflection. 

Angel was meticulous when he dried the rest of his body. After a few minutes, he began assembling his outfit. Once he was all dressed and ready, he was excited about how perfectly everything came together. The best thing about it was that it didn’t even look like a costume. It looked like this was how he could always look if he truly wanted to. 

Angel glanced at himself in the mirror one last time before choosing a small black purse to carry all of his things with him. He looked at his phone for the time. It seemed he had about a half an hour to kill before the car would arrive. It was a good thing that he knew just how to spend that time.

The walk from his bedroom to the bar was second nature at this point. He barely needed to watch where he was walking as he knew every twist and turn. He looked around the corner, seeing Husk’s hunched shoulders behind the bar. Angel didn’t need to announce his presence, as Husk seemed to pick up on his arrival by the sound of his footsteps. 

“Well well well, what are you all dolled up for?”

Angel slid onto his stool, “I’ve been asked to oversee a pitch meetin' with a partner of Val’s.” 

Husk nodded along, “You look excited.”

“I am,” Angel said. “I’ve neva done it solo before.”

“It sounds like fun,” Husk said, but he was mostly being polite. Angel knew that he had no idea what Angel was talking about. Still, it was sweet of him to try. 

“What are you doin’ later?”

Husk took a moment to gesture around him instead of responding. 

Angel smirked at his sass. “What do you do all day when I’m off at work, anyway?”

Husk shrugged his shoulders. “Man the bar, practice card tricks,” he looked at Angel from the corner of his eye, “look in on your pig.”

Angel Dust gasped, his elbows hitting the table. “You take care of Fat Nuggets when I’m away?” 

Husk closed his eyes, like he regretted telling Angel. “I just make sure his water dish is full,” he said. “I also make sure he’s eating.” When Husk looked at Angel, he groaned.

“Holy shit,” Angel said under his breath. “You’re a big softy, ain’t ya, Husky?” He asked, raising a hand to poke at Husk’s cheek.

“He has to get exercise–

“You even take him on walks!?”

Husk stopped talking, turning around so that he could mess with some bottles on the bar. 

“No wonder he hasn’t wanted to go anywhere!” Angel exclaimed. “I can’t believe this.”

Husk looked back at Angel, a faint blush on his cheeks. “We can walk him together next time,” he offered. 

Angel blinked a few times before a smile stretched across his face. “I’d like that, this meetin' shouldn’t take any more than three hours. Will you be free then?”

Husk took a moment to respond. “Yeah,” he said, too shy to turn around. 

“It’s a date,” Angel said, standing up from his stool. “We’ll walk our son when I get off work.”

Husk’s cheeks lit up, his hands fumbling the bottle he was holding and nearly dropping it. He looked over to Angel, who had already gathered his things and moved towards the hotel doors.

The car that picked up Angel was fancier than anything he’d rode in before. It seemed that Valentino got himself an upgrade with all the money his last picture made. Angel patted himself on the back as he sat in the back, crossing his legs with the ample leg room showing his ass on camera bought. Jax was in the passenger seat messing with something in a briefcase. He pulled out a manilla folder and handed it back to Angel. 

“Read over this script quickly, I’ve annotated the sections that are important.”

Angel grabbed the flimsy folder and pulled out the rather flimsy script. He looked over the highlighted sections that Jax made notes beside. His handwriting was fancier than Angel expected, though he wrote in all capital letters. 

STEAMY SHOWER SCENE

BEDROOM MASTURBATION SCENE

Angel continued through the packet. “Huh, I feel like I’ve seen all of this before.”

“You have,” Jax said simply. “Which is why Mr. Valentino wants you to reject this pitch.”

Angel nodded along. “He basically wants me to do a master cut of all my best scenes from other productions. Goodbye residuals.” He palmed through the rest of the documents. He noted a small red envelope. “What’s this?”

“Mr. Valentino would like you to sever our relationship with this partner of his.”

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, but tucked everything back into his manilla folder. He sat back in his seat. His excitement for the pitch meeting was dampened slightly. Not because he had to reject the pitch–but because he now had better plans afterwards. He smiled to himself, thinking about just what Husk looked like taking Fat Nuggets on a walk. Did he look grumpy? Or did he prefer his pig’s company to his own? Did he dote on him? The whole idea created a flutter in his chest–a warmth that emanated through the rest of his body. He wanted to be home already.

But before he could go home, he had to destroy the dreams of Val’s partner and the pathetic writer that brought Val this lackluster script. Angel looked out the window and realized they were approaching their target. The offices were quite modest, nothing like Guerrero’s or Vercelli’s. But, they had been working with Valentino for years. His relationship with Valentino must have just began–or it had been on the decline for a while. 

“We’ve arrived,” Jax said as the car stopped. He got out. 

Angel Dust followed him out, hooking his purse onto his shoulder. He let Jax lead him from the sidewalk and up the stairs to the office building. He took one last glance at the car behind him. This wouldn’t take long.

“We’ve come to meet with Mr. Jullien for the pitch,” Jax said with little emotion to the secretary in the lobby. 

“Yes, he is in another meeting currently, I’ll take you to the conference room to wait,” he said, standing up from his desk and leading the way. 

Jax allowed Angel Dust to follow in front of him so he got a good look at the offices they passed. He looked around, seeing white walls and beautifully decorated office space. There were paintings and fancy wall sconces. If this director was making decent money, then why would Val sever–

Angel Dust’s eyes went wide as he passed another conference room. He stopped abruptly and Jax nearly slammed into him. 

“Angel?”

Angel looked at Jax and continued walking. “Sorry about that, my heel almost fell off,” he lied. He’d only been able to see his back, but Angel knew that silhouette anywhere. It was Spitzers.

“Please wait here, Mr. Jullien will be in shortly.”

With that, the secretary excused himself and made his way out of the conference room. Angel took a seat at the far end of the table, and Jax sat beside him on his right. He took in the room. More white walls, more fancy carpet. There was a conference phone in the center of the table. A large TV hung on the wall on the other side of the room–likely for presentations. He gave a glance towards Jax. 

He wondered if Jax knew anything about why Jullien was being fired. It was unlikely, but Jax was capable enough to draw his own conclusions. Afterall, he was able to witness what happened to Brut in real time. He had to have his own opinions regarding that utter failure. 

But still, Angel kept quiet. So what if he knew about everything? It’s not as if either of them were in a position to act against orders. Angel shrugged and crossed his legs in his chair. He looked at his manila folder and opened it up. He gave the documents another read through and began to prepare himself. 

He noted three good things about the script, and three things Jullien could work on with his director. He loved his formatting, stage direction and visualizations. While the material wasn’t unique, there were a lot of elements that made it his own. But, it was a rip-off of Valentino’s work plain and simple. It was likely to lose them money in the long-run. 

The door opened suddenly and Angel’s attention was drawn to a shorter demon in a suit. He walked into the room, and towards the both of them. Angel and Jax stood as Jullien outstretched his hand to Angel first, then Jax.

“It’s great to see you today,” he said happily. “I’m hoping the script was to your liking.”

Angel nodded, “A great read,” he looked over at Jax for support–seeing as how he was the one to actually read it. 

Jax nodded along as well. 

“It was a relief to get a call back regarding this script. I know Valentino wants perfection from his directors, and I sought to give him just that.”

Angel smiled stiffly. Rip-offs maybe, he thought to himself as he sat back down. “Mr. Valentino recognizes that you’ve done an excellent job.”

“Marvelous news, will we be discussing scheduling today? I can call the director immediately to discuss–

“Unfortunately, Mr. Valentino has decided that he will no longer be workin' wit' your company.” Angel said as he pulled out the red envelope from the manilla folder. 

Jullien gasped, shock registering on his face for a moment before overwhelming anger took its place. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Jax left Angel Dust inside at the front desk while he arranged to have the car come back. The meeting didn’t last nearly as long as he thought. Angel wasn’t intending on pulling out the card until the end of their meeting, but to be honest, Jullien was acting really pompous. It was like he didn’t even realize that he was ripping off other directors’ hard work. There was even a shibari scene that he knew was directly pulled from Guerrero’s latest picture–and it was just released. How dense could you be? Angel thought as he crossed his arms. 

“Looks like you made it out of there unscathed,” Angel heard a familiar voice say from beside him. 

He looked over at Spitzers, a smile going to his face. “He doesn’t take rejection well,” Angel commented. “You might wanna make yourself scarce. He probably knows you’re the reason Val cut him loose.”

Spitzers chuckled. “My first deal back in this ring and Val already caught wind of it.”

“He’s a real basta’d,” Angel said.

Spitzers dipped his head low, his voice lower. “You never answered me before.”

Angel knew immediately what he was referring to. All those months ago when Spitzers had his meeting with Guerrerro–when he asked him if their fling was worth it. Angel considered his question. His answer would have been a resounding “yes” in the moment. Val using it against Brut and Agony turned their moment to ashes in his mouth, however. Now that there were months between him and the guilt he felt following their termination…

“We had fun, for sure,” Angel Dust said, closing his eyes. “But don’t you think we should be focusing on other things?”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

Angel looked over at him. “You clearly have a knack for this business,” Angel said. “If you’re itching to invest–invest in yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

Angel Dust looked around the lobby–noting that even the secretary was gone, likely out to lunch. He rummaged through his purse quickly and pulled out a pen. He took Spitzers’ arm and began writing something on it. He held his hand for a moment, and stared into his eyes. 

“If you can’t work with Valentino, why not become Valentino?”

Spitzers looked down at his arm, at two phone numbers etched onto his skin. Before he had a chance to respond, Angel had already sauntered off.

“So where do you usually go on your walks?” Angel Dust asked, sucking down his celebratory iced coffee as Husk gingerly placed Fat Nugget’s leash on him. 

Husk stood and Fat Nuggets giddily began running towards the door. He tightened his grip on the leash, not letting him get far. “It varies, sometimes I have errands to run.”

“I can’t picture you and my pig going to the post office,” Angel poked fun.

Husk let out a scoff. “The girls love him there,” he said. 

Angel Dust gasped, throwing a hand out and catching Husk on the shoulder. “You’re jokin’.”

Husk didn’t respond, instead he just led the two of them out the door. 

Angel Dust watched as Fat Nuggets waddled happily down the sidewalk. He followed by Husk’s side–which Husk must have taught him, because Angel certainly didn’t. Fat Nuggets was as undisciplined as his father. It looked like a little bit of regulation did his pig good, and he recognized that it also did himself good. 

Angel was finding joy in being outside on a walk rather than cooped up in his room avoiding Charlie. His room was clean and his laundry was done and put away. Things were going well with Cherri, too–he no longer felt the need to avoid responding to her texts when they came in. Things were going…great. And that concept was as foreign to Angel as the feeling that was overcoming him on their walk today. 

“What?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hmm?” Angel asked, realizing that he was staring at Husk intently as he pondered. “Nothin’.”

“We’re almost at the deli, you hungry?”

“There’s a deli up this way?” Angel asked, ignoring the question.

“Yeah, we visit sometimes–the wraps are great.”

Angel’s mouth started watering. He skipped lunch, so he was starving. He hoped that Husk couldn’t hear his stomach growling. “Well, if it’s close,” Angel said, hiding his smile from Husk. 

In a few minutes, Husk opened the door to the deli and Angel was hit with the inviting smell of fresh bread beckoning him forward. If his mouth had stopped watering before, this was surely going to make it start up again. 

“Look who’s back,” someone called from behind the counter. “Bess, the pig is here.”

“Fat Nuggets!” A girl yelled from the kitchen. 

Angel heard dainty footfalls speeding towards them. A small imp began racing towards Fat Nuggets and he greeted her happily. Angel heard Fat Nuggets oink happily at their reunion. He looked over at Husk, who shrugged. 

“Glad to see the boyfriend this time,” the imp behind the counter said, not looking up from his crossword. 

“We’re here for lunch,” Husk said, ignoring the comment. “Hit us up with two wraps. To go.”

“You don’t want to stay?” Bess asked, her eyes wide. 

Husk looked over at Angel, asking him with his eyes what he’d like to do.

“We can stay for a bit,” Angel nodded at him. 

Husk sighed. Deeply. He wrestled for his wallet and tossed over some cash to the imp. He rang him up quickly and shot a look over at Bess to get back to work. 

“Okay, I’m going,” she said regretfully. “I’ll be back with your food.” She made her way back to the kitchen sadly. Just when Angel thought they’d be rid of her, she popped her head back out. “And a snack for Fat Nuggets.”

Husk grabbed them a booth and sat opposite Angel–who was smiling widely. When he looked up, he groaned. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Angel said with a shit-eating grin. 

Husk blushed, “You don’t need to, I know what you’re thinking.”

“You really should treat your boyfriend with more respect,” Angel lectured him. “Afterall, you and your boyfriend are on a date right now.”

Husk rose from the booth, clearly done with Angel’s teasing. Angel stood and caught him by the shoulders, forcing him to sit back down, 

“I was jokin’, I was jokin’,” Angel said, giggling. “Gosh, don’t get so embarrassed.”

Husk kept his eyes closed, his cheeks stained red. “When I brought Fat Nuggets in here before, Belise asked if I was his owner.” He looked past Angel and towards Belise at the counter. “But I’m not sure how me answering ‘no’ turned into me walking him for my boyfriend,” he said, eyes glaring over at the imp. 

Belise waved, “I used to walk somebody’s pet–that’s how I got Bess.” He gestured towards the kitchen.

Angel looked back at Husk, who promptly hid his ever-reddening face in his hands. 

“I’m never coming here again,” Husk said, clearly mortified.

Angel laughed, patting Husk on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Husky. We don’t have to tell ‘em I’m your boyfriend,” Angel cooed.

“You could do worse, Husky,” Belise said.

“Could everyone please stop talking?”

“Order up,” Bess said, carrying two trays of food their way. She even had a little plate on top of her head–for presentation. She placed their trays in front of them and then grabbed the other and put it on the floor. She cut up some fresh veggies for Fat Nuggets. 

Angel gasped lightly, seeing at how happy Fat Nuggets was. He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture quickly. “Isn’t he just the cutest?” Angel asked, showing the picture to Husk.

“He’s spoiling his dinner,” Husk said, tearing at the wrapping their lunch came in. He opened his mouth wide and took a bite. 

Angel laughed at his phone and turned it to Husk again, so he could see the photo he got of him eating. “You look cute when you eat, too.”

Husk glared at Angel and turned away from him as he ate. “Would you just eat?”

Angel put down his phone and smiled. He grabbed the first sustenance he’d had this whole day and began chowing down. It might have been the hunger talking–but this was the best wrap he’d ever fucking had. The tomatoes were fresh and crispy, the onions were zingy and there wasn’t too much lettuce. The meat was moist too! 

“Fuck, Husky, this is so good,” Angel said, nearly moaning.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he lectured. “But, yeah, it’s good.”

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