#fucking christ i don't even care about this woman

[friendlyneighborhoodamara]

@bambification987

Please touch grass lol

that man went on live television and talked about how poc are eating the cats and dogs, aliens conducting trans operations. he is a convicted felon. of 34 cases. he is a rapist. he proposed project 2025 which strips away basic rights from everyone except cis-het white men and he still had 51% popularity votes. that should anger you. that should be focus of the collective rage and disgust, not your fellow queer and poc acquaintances. please.

[terryfuckingturniptruck]

Had a resident's son not like an answer I gave him so he proceeded to bitch about me to the housekeeper and described me as "oh ya know, her down the hall...or whatever they are."

[umilily]

pls keep your fingers crossed for me that after finishing this course i will never have to talk to this dude who took it with me ever again, bc otherwise i'm about to do something drastic.

[apollo-zero-one]

Listening to stories of people who survived situations like being trapped in collapsed buildings and it kinda sounds like the human response to being trapped in a bad situation is to just keep going back to sleep until death comes. Thinking about depressive avoidant sleeping. Brain doesn't know you aren't trapped under rubble it can't see out of his bone prison brain just knows everything is bad and everything hurts and we can't handle this stress we need to divert all power to life support, night night.

[lovelybucky1]

Treat Me Wrong

Kinktober Day 16- Degradation Kink

warnings: AFAB!Reader, manipulation, gaslighting, cheating, sex work, roleplay, spanking, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

“I think we should break up,” you say.

Tommy’s face twists in anger and confusion. “Where’d you get that idea?” he asks.

This is exactly why you want to break up. He’s so dismissive and he doesn’t respect you. He’s sitting relaxed in his chair like you didn’t just suggest ending your relationship. Why is it so difficult for him to care about you?

“I’m not happy!” you say.

Tommy scoffs in response. “You live like a princess. What else could you possibly need?”

“Love and attention,” you huff.

“Christ,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you a child? Do you really need me to attend to you all day to be content?”

“Not all day, Tommy. Just sometimes. What's the point in even having a lover if you won't spend time with them?"

"You act like I have a lot of free time to waste. I'm a very busy man."

His way of having excuses for everything make you feel like you're going insane.

"You have enough time to spend with prostitutes," you say bitterly. This makes Tommy perk up. "I know you go to see them after work and lie to me when you get home late. Why do you bother stringing me along if you'd rather pay for your companionship?"

Tommy chuckles darkly. "That's what this is about, eh?"

"Why the fuck are you laughing, Tommy?"

He stands up from his chair and crosses the room to stand in front of you. He places one hand on your hip while the other holds his cigarette. The smoke swirls in front of your face, the pungent smell burning your nose.

"You're jealous of my whores?" he asks smugly.

"What do they have that I don't," you ask angrily.

"I have certain needs that they satisfy."

You scoff and push his hand off of you. "We're together, Tommy. You should come to me to satisfy your needs, not step out on me."

Tommy rolls his eyes and grabs ahold of your wrist. "What I need isn't appropriate for a high society woman like yourself."

You furrow your brows in confusion, but no matter what he's talking about, you want to be able to provide it for him. "You don't get to decide what's appropriate for me or not. Besides, you'd know that I'm very adventurous if you ever took the time to actually be intimate with me."

He blinks slowly at you and licks his lips, then smirks devilishly. "You want me to treat you like one of my whores?"

"Yes, Tommy."

"Right." Tommy stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the side table, the turns his attention back to you. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding you firmly. "You promise not to get upset?"

"Why would I get upset?"

Tommy fights back a smirk. "Because I tend to be a bit... harsh."

"Harsh?" you ask.

"You said you want me to fuck you like a whore. A dirty, cheap, used up whore that's only good for taking cock. Is that right?" You hesitantly nod. "Then until I'm finished, that's exactly what you're going to be. I'm only going to stop if you tell me to, otherwise I'm going to have you just like I have them."

"Okay," you breathe.

Tommy steps away from you and sits back in his chair. "Take your dress off," he instructs.

You find it a bit odd that he's just watching instead of also getting undressed, but it does make you feel better that the prostitutes he visits don't get to see him naked.

You strip piece by piece until you're bare in front of him. He stands up again and looks over your body, occasionally prodding and groping you.

"Turn around," he says, voice low. You do as he says and you allow yourself to be moved over to the couch. Tommy pushes you so you're bent at the waist over the arm rest, bare ass on display.

Tommy continues to grope you; he slaps your cheeks, spreads and slaps them, and teases at your folds.

“Wet already? Didn’t think whores got off on their work,” he says.

Without much prep, he shoves two fingers into your cunt. Like a true whore, you take them easily. He opens you up by scissoring his fingers inside you. He's going quickly, not bothering to take his time and make it pleasurable for you. You suppose he pays for his own pleasure, not yours.

"Already loose too. How many others did you have today?" he asks. When you don't answer him, he delivers a slap to your ass.

"N-none," you whimper.

"Sounds like business is slow."

He pulls his fingers out of you and wipes your wetness on your thigh. He then moves to press his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the bulge in his slacks. He grinds up against you shamelessly, making you feel even more humiliated now that he's simulating fucking you while he's fully dressed.

"Tell me you want my cock," he orders.

"I want your cock," you parrot with a whine in your voice.

"You can be more convincing than that," he says with a slap to your ass. "Be a good whore and beg me to fuck you."

You take a deep breath. "Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad... Mr. Shelby," you add for good measure.

That seems to please him, because he moves away from you far enough to pull his cock through his fly. He rubs the head through your folds, teasing your entrance with it.

"I'm not going to catch anything from fucking you raw, am I?" he asks, though he knows the answer.

"No, sir," you reply.

You're glad he bent you over like this, because that means he can't see your embarrassed face and you don't have to look into his intimidating eyes.

"Mm, good."

He pushes inside you, not gently but he doesn't aim to hurt you. Once he's fully seated inside, he begins to thrust before you're ready for it. You gasp in surprise, but you're helpless to do anything but take it.

"Didn't think pussy so cheap would take me so well," he groans. His hands grip tightly on your hips and he slams you back to meet each of his thrusts. His cock bumps against your cervix uncomfortably, but it feels best for him when you take it all the way, and that's the only thing that matters.

With each thrust, you make a punched out little moan. Tommy, however, is silent above you, save for a bit of heavy breathing. It isn't until you arch your back and really start putting on a show that he speaks up.

"Like a fuckin' professional, eh? I should come to you more often. Y'know, my woman's a real bitch sometimes. Never lets me fuck her like this. Thinks she's too good to get bent over. Has so many opinions, too. But you're a good woman; quiet, tight," he leans down, draping himself over your back to speak into your ear. "Obedient."

You can't help but moan at his filthy words, despite how degrading they are. You shouldn't find your lover talking badly about you so arousing, but you cant help it.

"She gets so mad I cheat on her but I think she'd understand if she felt this cunt for herself. 'm gonna marry her and fuck her full of babies to keep her busy while I give the real good stuff to you."

"Fuck," you whimper and immediately regret it.

"You like when I talk to you like a whore? You like getting fucked hard like I don't love you?"

It's rare that Tommy says he loves you. So rare, in fact, that you often doubt if it's true.

"Yes, yes," you gasp. "I love you."

"Mm," he hums. "Save it for when I'm not paying you."

[bats-and-the-birds]

I like to think about young Dick Grayson a lot, and right now I'm specifically thinking about him from the Justice League's perspective.

Like, imagine you're in the Justice League, maybe you've been there for a few months, maybe for a few years, but either way, you know how it works. Superman's terrifyingly powerful, but you get over the fear factor as soon as you see him cry over a sad cat video, and Wonder Woman's still a bit intimidating, but as long as you're good and truthful, you can trust that she won't crush your head like a grape.

And Batman... well, you've made your peace with the fact that you'll never figure him out. You know literally nothing about him, other than the fact that he claims to be fully human, but you're not even really sure about that, because you're pretty sure he just materializes in the shadows sometimes. The only things that you're 100% sure of is that you're terrified of him, and you're so glad that he's not on someone else's side.

And then, suddenly, he has acquired a child. Just like everything else, you don't find out immediately, because god forbid that man tell his team anything. But you start to hear vague reports of another shadow trailing behind Batman in the night. Superman asks him about it one day, but of course, he doesn't respond, and they all wonder, but it never gets brought up again.

But one day, unexpectedly, that shadow is at a league meeting, and he's not as shadowy as you would have thought. In fact, he's wearing the most vibrant costume you've seen, and you spend all of your time with other heroes in spandex. He's also young. Terrifyingly young. It's his twelfth birthday, actually, he explains to the league, and he pestered 'B' until he agreed to take him to a meeting. You all agree later that he looks younger than twelve. And you worry about him, because why is this child in Batman's care? Can he really be trusted to look after someone so small, so young, so seemingly fragile?

Besides, Robin (Robin, his name is Robin, he's a songbird for christ's sake), is everything that you'd think Batman would hate. He talks everyone's ear off with a giant grin stretched across his entire face. He begs Superman to fly him around and cackles and claps as Wonder Woman demonstrates basic sword maneuvers for him. Before long, the whole team is in a better mood. Meanwhile, Batman stands in the shadows, his face impassive, with no explanation about the little masked boy that walked into the room hiding under his cape.

He leaves just as he came, disappearing under Batman's cape as the two exit the watchtower together, and the whole league is left to wonder how the fuck that child ended up in Batman's care, and whether or not they should intervene, because spending prolonged time in Batman's company cannot be healthy for a child.

But then he starts showing up more and more, popping up in some places that you know from Batman's glare he's not supposed to be. He's teamed up with that speedster boy and the two of them cause havoc, but Robin takes the lecture he gets with a grin and gives a half hearted promise to behave.

You steadily start to realize that he might not be as out of place in Batman's company as you originally thought. You realize that the boy is a performer through and through, and that extends to that grin of his that dazzled the team when they first met him. You get the impression that sometimes its genuine, yes, but you'd never know if it wasn't. His exuberance is a persona held in place as meticulously as Batman's grim seriousness.

And though you'd assumed that Batman's sidekick (partner, the boy insisted, rather intensely, though his smile never faltered) would be well trained, this kid could take down league members, you're sure. You quickly realize that he enjoys fighting, and he fights viciously, giggling and putting on a show, but leaving broken bones in his wake. Your first impression is that Robin was more human than the demon they called the Batman, but you quickly start to question that too. If Batman can materialize in shadows, then Robin can fly. He twists through the air like gravity doesn't affect him and lands with so much grace that you'd think he had hollow bones like his namesake. You're not fully convinced he doesn't, considering he climbs up the bat with no warning, clinging onto his back like he belongs there (you quickly start to think he does), or he'll throw himself through the air with no more warning than a quick 'catch' yelled to his partner. And Batman catches him. Batman always catches him. Everyone keeps an eye on him when he's up high, but there's a part of you that feels like it's impossible that he'd ever fall. Or at least, impossible that Batman would ever let him hit the ground.

And you start to think that Robin's exactly where he's supposed to be; perched on Batman's shoulder, hiding in his cape, or fighting by his side. You still hope there's a normal boy behind the mask, going to school and making friends with someone to tuck him in at night, but you also can't imagine anything normal about Robin, and maybe that's why he needs to be by Batman's side, and maybe that's why Batman needs him too.

[superhaught]

Sweetest Girl (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warning(s): discussion of disability

Word Count: 2200, Part 2/?

Author's Note: I was able to finish chapter 2! I'm sorry for the massive delay since positing any writing, it's been a time recently. I'll keep doing my best but pls don't hold it against me if I don't post for a while again. I still care about Regina so so much. Thank you to bestie @sapphicantics for helping me go back to this and reading it first :P

Summary: Reader goes over to Regina's house to work on some more chemistry lessons.

Part 1

Friday’s chemistry lecture was cut off by the dismissal bell and the teacher frustratingly called out as students were already busting through the door, “quiz on Monday! Don’t forget and study hard this weekend!” 

You were packing up your notes when five perfectly manicured fingernails rapped on the corner of your desk. 

You looked up and met the blonde's eyes. 

“So quiz on Monday, can I get some extra tutoring this weekend?” 

You nodded slowly, “do you want me to come to your place?” 

“I do.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want -“ 

“I already told you, yes. Stop being so weird about it. Tomorrow. Come over around lunchtime. My mom will feed us then we can work.” 

You bit your lip and then nodded again, “okay.” 

Regina gave you her version of a smile and then flicked her hair behind her shoulder as she left the classroom. 

You saw that the teacher had been watching your exchange.

“It’s working,” they said, “whatever you’re doing. Her homework was better.” 

“You definitely can’t tell me that.” 

“Just keep it up. She’ll be okay.” 

You smiled and nodded, hugging your books to your chest and leaving the classroom. 

After a twenty-five minute walk, you were standing at the end of the driveway to the George residence. 

You looked up at the massive house in awe. It was clearly a new build. Likely custom-designed by the Georges. Two stories. Huge yard. You imagined an underground pool and a deck with a built-in, year round jacuzzi in the back. A movie theater and second kitchen in the basement. A yoga room with a Peleton for Ms. George. Master bath with a soaking tub. 

You were afraid to go in. 

You stood outside and stared for a minute longer before finally walking up the driveway (not made of asphalt or cement, but pristine white rocks). You walked past Regina’s Jeep, a Mercedes, and an Audi all parked (as well as a children’s Barbie Jeep abandoned in the lawn, belonging to Regina’s younger sister you assumed). 

You giggled at that. You imagined Regina either beaming with pride or fuming with rage at the idea of her little sister wanting a matching car to Regina. 

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the front door and waited for a moment, hearing a faint “get the door!” from inside.

Regina opened the door, “hey, did you find parking on the street?” 

“Oh, I didn’t drive.”

“Someone dropped you off then? Do you have a ride home after?” 

You shook your head, “I walked.” 

“What the fuck?” 

A woman called out from inside the house, “Regina! Language!” 

Regina clenched her jaw and inhaled slowly through her nose, flaring her nostrils. 

“It’s not a big deal,” you responded quietly. 

Regina rolled her eyes, “I’ll drive you home when we’re done, Jesus Christ.” 

“You really don’t have to drive me home, it’s okay.” 

“Shut up, it���s literally nothing. Now come inside you weirdo.” 

You followed Regina in, and the interior of the house was even more grand than the exterior. 

You didn’t have much time to take it all in before Regina’s mom was pouncing on you and pulling you into a hug then holding your shoulders and examining you head to toe, “well aren’t you a cute little thing!? I love meeting Regina’s new friends.” 

“She’s my tutor mom.” 

“Cute and smart, then! Well I hope the two of you become friends, Regina needs good influences in her life.” 

“Mom.” 

Ms. George raised her hands in mock-surrender, “Sorry! I’m just trying to be helpful, my goodness.” 

You tried to force a smile and fidgeted with the zipper of your jacket awkwardly. 

“Did you make us snacks?” 

“Oh yes!” Ms. George trotted back into the kitchen and came back with a tray stacked with a variety of finger foods and fruity little drinks complete with excessive garnishes. She passed the tray to you, “here you ladies go. Study hard!” 

“Thanks,” Regina didn’t wait around any longer before starting up the staircase to the second floor and expecting you to follow behind.

“Um, it was nice meeting you!” You directed to Ms. George, “you have a beautiful home.” 

“Thank you sweetie-“ 

“Hurry up.” Regina cut her mom off while standing at the top of the steps with a hand on her hip.

You rushed up the rest of the steps and followed Regina into her room. She immediately went to her floor-length mirror and adjusted her hair while you set the tray of snacks down on her vanity. 

“Not there,” Regina snapped, as if it was obvious.

“Where then?” 

Regina pointed lazily toward the ottoman at the foot of her bed and you obeyed, setting the tray down and then helping yourself to a handful of homemade trail mix. 

Regina came over and sat down on her bed and grabbed a single celery stick to eat. 

You must have made a face that Regina noticed because she raised an eyebrow at you, “what?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why are you making that face?” 

“Oh, nothing, I just don’t like celery.” 

“You don’t have to eat it.” 

“I know, Regina.” You could feel yourself shrinking as your shoulders slumped. 

“It’s like negative calories so.”

“Well, actually…” 

Regina narrowed her eyes at you.

“Nevermind. So, do you want to work on material for the quiz?” 

Regina threw herself backwards and collapsed into her duvet in exasperation, “ugggghhhh!” 

“That’s why you wanted me to come over, right?” 

“Well duh… I’m just tired.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Regina propped herself up on her elbows and looked at you, “for what?” 

“That you’re tired?” 

She scoffed, “you don’t need to be sorry about that. See? You’re too nice.” 

You shrugged, “I guess it’s just something people say.” 

“Oh? So you agree, then? That niceness is a facade that people use to disguise their true feelings?” 

You shook your head, incredulous, “I didn’t say that.”

“Are you really, actually sorry that I’m tired or are you just saying it, then?“ 

You took a beat to think and then answered emphatically, “I am actually sorry. It’s called empathy. I feel bad that you feel rundown, and if you aren’t up for studying today, I would understand.” 

She raised an eyebrow again in her classic fashion, “I guess I just really don’t understand that. Why would you feel bad that I’m tired? And why wouldn’t you be upset if I wasn’t in the mood to study after you put in the effort to walk all the way here?” 

“I don’t know why, that’s just how I feel. What should I say instead? I don’t care that you’re tired, suck it up I’m here to make you better at chemistry?” 

“Maybe you should,” Regina shrugged. 

You shook your head, “I don’t want to say that. That’s not helpful to anyone. Are you going to retain any of the content we go over if I push you to do it when you don’t feel good?” 

“How do you know I’m not lying or just complaining for the sake of it? Maybe I need to be pushed.”

“Fine, give me a reason then. Why are you tired?” 

Regina thought about it for a minute, then her voice came out surprisingly quiet, “you know the accident from last year? The bus thing?” 

You nodded. 

She sighed, “It’s been a long recovery. I don’t usually talk about it with anyone.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it with me if you don’t feel comfortable, but… I am here if you did want to. Talk about it, I mean.” 

Regina didn’t say anything. She started to pick at the skin around her fingernails. 

You recognized the behavior right away because you do it too. Without thinking, you moved to sit across from her on the bed and reached out, clasping your hand around hers. 

The blonde stared at you shocked. 

“Shit, I… I’m sor-“ you began, starting to pull away. 

She didn’t let you go, “It’s okay. Don’t apologize.” 

The gesture must have cracked her armor, if only a little. She shrugged her shoulders and explained, “the accident injured my neck and back so I’m doing physical therapy twice a week for that and I’ve been diagnosed with something called POTS. So my heart is all fucked up or something. I'm exhausted and in pain most of the time even though I'm taking like six different meds every day.” 

“That sounds really hard.”

“But I feel like…” her voice failed her. She frowned, cleared her throat, and started again, “I feel like I shouldn’t complain about it… wouldn’t be cute to bitch about it when everyone…” she lowered her head and stared at her comforter, “when everyone thinks I probably deserved it.” 

You frowned and squeezed her hand, “do you think you deserved to get hit by a bus?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It feels that way sometimes. Like I was supposed to learn some kind of lesson from it. Like I was supposed to suddenly be a better person and be grateful and be an inspiration or whatever. But that’s like some biblical bullshit. And I’m not a better person. I'm still just me but now my body doesn’t work and people don’t even bother pretending to like me anymore.” The dam had burst. The corners of her eyes started to sting with painful tears. “I’m not grateful. I don’t think what happened to me was an inspiration or whatever. I just wish I wasn’t sick and I wish that people didn’t expect anything from me.” With that, she retracted her hands from you, quickly wiped her face with her sleeves and she continued to look anywhere but right at you.

“Regina, thank you for sharing that with me. I want to help you as much as I can.”

“Why, though?”

“Because I want to.”

Regina met your eyes again, scrutinizing you. Trying to find deception that wasn’t there. 

When she finally gave up she just said, “I don’t understand you.”

You laughed, “I’ve gathered that.”

She smiled and then rolled her eyes.

“Hey, do me a favor, okay? Go change into something comfy and then lets just watch something for a bit. Whatever you want. We can recharge a little and then see about studying, and if it doesn’t happen, it’s okay.”

“Are you being serious?”

“Yes.”

Regina breathed a sigh of relief and then visibly relaxed before getting up and walking to her large closet. She came back out a few minutes later, having changed into baggy sweats. She wordlessly sat down at her vanity, tied her hair up in a loose bun, cleaned her makeup off and then replaced her contact lenses with glasses. 

You smiled to yourself while watching her. She caught you looking over in the mirror and you quickly looked away before seeing her reaction if any. 

When she came back to the bed, laptop in hand, she said, “I’d usually never let anyone see me like this.”

“Well, then I consider myself lucky. Unless you don’t plan on letting me leave here alive now that I’ve seen you ‘like this,’” putting air quotes around your words.

“Cheeky…” Regina smirked and sat back down on the bed next to you, constructing a pile of pillows against the headboard to lean on, “you wouldn’t know until it was too late, though.”

You smiled as she continued.

“I guess I just don’t really care right now.”

“Well, I’m glad that you feel at ease with me. Not that you’re any less pretty than before.”

“You liar!”

“What? I’m not lying!”

“I’m not pretty right now. I’m all puffy and my hair is gross and I have my stupid glasses on and I’m wearing my mom’s old college sweatshirt.”

You shrugged, “you are pretty, Regina. You have freckles, I didn’t know that. And your hair looks cute like this, the little strands framing your face… I don’t know, you look pretty to me.”

Regina narrowed her eyes at you and then shook her head, “okay, whatever. Let’s just… watch something now.” She redirected her attention to opening up streaming on her laptop, “have you ever seen Real Housewives?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh my god. Okay I’m catching up on New Jersey right now, I’ll try to fill you in.”

You smiled and nodded. 

She started the show and slid a little closer to you so that she could rest the laptop on both of your laps. 

You ended up watching the show all evening, only interrupted by Ms. George bringing some dinner upstairs for you both along with Regina’s meds.

“Sweetheart, you look… comfortable.” Ms. George remarked, her tone unmistakably judgemental. 

The corners of Regina’s mouth downturned just slightly.

“Yeah you know we just decided to have a relaxing night. No need to be all done up.” You smiled, “thank you so much for bringing us food, Ms. George.” 

The woman was thrown off and you felt victorious.

“Oh, of course. I’ll… go get you girls some popcorn.” Ms. Geroge left and shut the door behind her. 

Regina released a breath she was holding and whispered, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For… for what you just did.”

You shrugged and took a bite of food, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Regina’s eyebrows raised and then she just laughed in disbelief before turning the show back on and saying, “you continue to surprise me…”

Next Chapter

[lastoneout]

Genuinely the blanket refusal for anyone to consider the existence to trans mascs/men, nonbinary people, and intersex people in the reproductive rights conversation is starting to piss me the fuck off. "Oh you never hear of a man going to the ER and people having to appeal to a council of men to save their life" just SAY you don't give a fuck about trans men, holy shit. They are seen as defective women by society and have to deal with misogyny AND transphobia when accessing reproductive healthcare, stop acting like they straight up don't even exist.

Also cis men DO have to deal with this shit. Disabled men have a history of facing eugenics and having their right to have kids stripped of them, and they ABSOLUTELY have to beg insurance and hospitals to save their lives. Did y'all forget about that disabled man who was left to die by a hospital during the start of the covid pandemic because his life "wasn't worth saving" like?? Disabled people legit had to constantly worry that if they got covid a hospital would just let them die, I was PETRIFIED of getting sick because of this. I remember spending hours reading the guidelines hospitals were following to decide who was worth saving and shaking and crying in fear because the system was straight up saying to my face that both I and people like me simply dont have lives that are worth saving. Right now disabled men in Canada are being forced to kill themselves because killing them is easier than helping them, y'all remember that?? You know fat men face systemic fatphobia that kills them when doctors refuse to treat them until they lose weight, yeah?? And we're well aware that black men die in ERs because doctors won't take them seriously, right? Right????

Jesus fucking christ y'all men are not the problem but so many of you are acting like they are to the point of erasing the very existence of marginalized men who are absolutely suffering and dying too because doctors don't give a shit about them. These men need support, just like women do, now more than ever. Stop fucking abandoning them because you think women are the only people who are going to suffer under Trump.

Woman good, man bad is a painfully reductive way of looking at the world and everyone perpetuating it needs to stop right fucking now. I'm not kidding, I am straight up running out of patience at the progressive left's willful refusal to recognized marginalized men as people who need help. Trump is going to hurt so many marginalized men too and idk how else to state that you should give a shit about them.

Like not to steal the Onion's words but I straight up don't know how else to explain that you should care about other people.

[duskier]

Is Soap the crazy ex that's stealing your stuff and Ghost won't do anything about it?

cw toxic relationship, stalking, pillow humping, panty sniffing/licking

The sheer AMOUNT of asks and comments and tags I got begging for it to be fem Soap... TBH I hadn't originally Thought that but yall convinced my ass so easy!! (As if toxic lesbianism isn't my bread and fucking butter)

Soap being sooo obsessed with you- Ghost dumped her because he loves loves LOVES seeing Soap emotionally distraught but got distracted with you soon after, he forgot to take Soap back before her last bits of sanity fled her.

She starts by finding all your social media, she swears that you're posting soft launch photos of Ghost’s hand on your thigh specifically to taunt her. Of course, all that does is rile her up more, and the logical conclusion to cope with that, of course, is to break into your flat while you're away on vacation with Ghost. Serves you right for flying to the fucking Caribbean with her man.

She considers smashing everything she can get her claws on while draped on your bed, your cat purring against Soap while she pets it mindlessly. Spares herself a little maniacal smile at the idea burning your whole fucking place down- she'd wait around a corner as you'd come home and fall to your knees in agony having lost it all.

Scratching just beneath the cats chin and cooing, "Don't worry love, I'd be sure to take good care of ye. Probably better than yer mum thas' for sure."

Ultimately, she does something stranger. She spends the entirety of your remaining vacation (two weeks, one day, and seventeen hours-- bleeding Christ, Ghost never spent more than two nights at Soap’s flat) living as you. The sweet old woman across from you that you asked to check in on your cat while you were gone? Why, she's so old her eyesight is going out. She doesn't trust her memory that much either. So when she squints up at Soap, she doesn't question anything as she passes the fraud your house key.

"Back early, eh pet?"

"Ah, no, but time does fly, doesnae?"

She wakes up every morning in your perfumed, satin sheets. She brushes her teeth with your brush, your paste- licking the bristles like a sweet until all the mint flavor was gone. Showers with all your soaps and slathers herself with your expensive oils after. Looks herself in the eyes in the mirror as she puts your lipstick on. Finds any set of clothes in your closet that fit her, unafraid to play tailor to make especially pretty items fit. Doesn't care if your shoes don't fit her, she makes them fit one way or another. Eats your oats, drinks your coffee from your unwashed mug as she looks down fondly as the cat eats the breakfast Soap put out for it. When she orders out, she puts your name down. Gets a little thrill in the cafes when they call out her tea but your name, gleefully smiling as she takes the paper cup.

Takes strange men home, and by home that still means yours, so they can fuck her like a worthless whore while spitting your name. It's pornographic when Soap throws her head back and cums with a cry when a man won't stop whining your name. She can't escape the sweet smell of your perfume.

Living as you, Soap has never felt so beautiful or put together in her life. It comes as a horrible, dizzying conclusion to Soap in the dead of night: she's not mad at you anymore. She's in love with you. It has her staggering out of bed, nearly collapsing at your hamper when she finds what she was hoping for. Falling over herself back onto your bed and mounting one of your pillows, muscular hips jerking as she rubs her bare, sopping cunt against the fabric. One hand gripping the corner of the pillow, keeping it in place and imagining it was your hair in her fist. The other hand holding a pair of your underwear to her nose. She takes a grotesquely deep sniff, eyes rolling back in her head with a guttural moan. She doesn't stop even as her hips start to buck faster, more desperate. It was then Soap’s turn to whine out your name like it were a last prayer, again and again. Strong thighs flexing as her rhythym became more erratic, her body bowing forward as she chased her orgasm. Tongue daring to dart out and tasting salt, tasting you, the new love of her life, this was the straw that finally broke Soap for good.

[spectres-n-soap]

The Clouds remind Me of You - Soap x reader x Ghost

Content Warnings - Pregnancy, afab body, grief, MW3 is canon, arguing, minor physical altercation?, so much angst guys.

Masterlist

Ghost knows he shouldn't be pushing you, pushing this boundary but as the days pass you seem to be getting bigger. At least, that's what you complain about each and every time you have to go up the stairs to your flat. It was raining again in the evening but the day with partial sunlight seemed to lift your spirits at least, or rather, you weren't lying on the couch and basically snarling at him whenever he tried to approach. You reminded Ghost of a pregnant homeless dog, snarling at anyone who tries to touch you for good or for worse. "C'mon." He pleads, "You have to eat something."

"No I don't Ghost."

"It's Simon." He reminds you. Ghost had insisted you call him Simon because the two of you weren't on base. You hadn't accepted that idea and still called him Ghost. Whether it was out of habit or just to piss him off, he didn't know and both were very possible. Although at this point, he was leaning towards 'just to piss him off' territory. "Just eat a little bit?" He holds the warm chicken noodle soup towards you.

"Fuck off, I don't need babied." You grumble and manage to somehow move even further from him despite your prone position on the couch. "I'll eat when I feel like it." You state, trying to leave zero room for argument from his side. You hadn't been feeling well all day and the moment it had started raining, you just collapsed onto the couch. The entire day felt like the worst one since Soap had passed. Morning sickness all day along with sporadic Braxton Hicks left you with zero appetite. At this point, you could not tell if you felt sick because of this damn pregnancy or if you hadn't eaten. It didn't really matter because every time you looked at the soup, you felt like throwing up. Or maybe it was because it was Ghost who held it out to you.

"I'm not babying you." Ghost argues, "I'm just taking care of you."

"Oh would you fuck off with that sentence!" You snap, suddenly finding the energy to sit up and glare at Ghost. "I get it alright? You loved Soap-"

"Johnny."

"You loved Johnny." You take a deep breath to try and keep the tears at bay, "So did I! I can't fucking stand you being here." You yell and smack the bowl from his hands and onto the wooden floor. "Bloody Christ! Can you not get that through your stupid fucking mask?" You stand up, a bit wobbly on your feet but you back up when Ghost tries to come to your aid. "He's supposed to be here!"

"Don't."

"Don't what Ghost? Don't speak the fucking truth of it all?" You ask as you storm up to him and wipe away the few tears running down your cheeks. "Are you scared of the truth?"

"Don't say it." Ghost snaps as he looks down at you. His breathing is becoming uneven as rage flares up in his brown eyes. What you wouldn't do for it be Johnny's blue eyes looking at you.

"If you had been there," You push an accusatory finger into his chest, "he would still be here. Johnny would be here instead of you."

He grabs your wrist and yanks it away from his chest. "You don't get to say that. You weren't there either! You were back at base from a broken arm!" You stumble backwards as he pushes forward, fury in his eyes as he speaks and his grip on your wrist grows tighter. "I had to watch him die! A bullet right through the fucking skull."

"Shut up!" You screech and try to pull your wrist from his grip but he yanks you forward.

"Now I'm trying to do the right fucking thing! I'm trying to help out the woman he got pregnant because he would fucking put a bullet in me if he was still alive and I didn't." Ghost pushes you back onto the couch. "I'm not going away. Get that through your thick fucking skull."

"I want you to go away! Just leave me alone, I didn't need your help during the first 29 weeks of this pregnancy and I don't need it now." Ghost storms over to the pot of still warm soup and pours another bowl of it. "Fine, you don't need me. But I don't care. You're gonna eat this fucking soup and then I'll leave." He pushes the bowl of soup into your hands. "Fucking eat."

You looked at the two bags of ash in your hands as the tears run down your face. A fat sob left you leaning against your steering wheel as you sobbed. You were meant to deliver one of the bags of ash to his family after Ghost had poured out the 141's portion over the highlands. It was a nice day too. Far too nice for a moment like this, for you to cry so hard you felt sick. You had just gotten your arm out of the cast, excited to see Soap return with the rest of the 141 from the mission to stop Makarov. It had been a wild goose chase, the first mission had left you falling out of a four story window to escape some gas.

It had been raining when they got off the jet, the rain obscured everything but you knew something was wrong when you only saw three figures. Price had approached you first with Gaz and Ghost behind him. You scrunched your brows together, confusion must've been all over your face because Price spoke first before you could even get the question out. "Soap is KIA."

The sound of the rain cut out, the words that came from Price had no sound as your eyes focused on the jet behind them as a stretcher with a bag over it was pulled out. You didn't even notice that your fingers had started to dig into the skin of your throat as the ability to breathe was stolen from you. Gaz pulled your hands away from your throat and everything crashed down. The rain deafened you as the first few tears ran down your face. "Captain." You choked out as you looked into his blue eyes. Fuck, had they always looked so much like Soaps? "Captain please."

Gaz had to hold you up as your knees gave out. You covered your mouth with your hand and just cried because the scream caught in your throat. The next week went by in a blur and now you were here. Parked a block away from Soap's parents house. It was a nice neighborhood, you could hear kids playing in the distance while you broke down and cried again. You had barely held yourself together at the ash spreading and it was all just coming apart now. You looked at the baggie filled with ash that was meant for you. This is all you had left of Soap, not even his dog tags. Price had given the MacTavish's his dog tags the day after they arrived back on base.

Slowly, you lifted your head up and wiped away the tears. You straightened your uniform and got out of your car. The walk wasn't long but the bag filled with his ash felt like it weighed a million pounds. You stood at the front door of the MacTavish's for a long moment before you finally rang the doorbell. A woman with graying brown hair opened the door, her eyes red like you were sure yours were. She didn't look old but you supposed that was because Soap had joined the military early. Where would he be now if he had been caught?

"Mrs. MacTavish, I'm from the 141 and I'm here to give you this." You muttered and handed his mother the bag.

"Oh." She put a hand to her mouth as she began to cry again. "Hello John." She whispered and held the bag gently, "My baby boy."

You lay in your bed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you get up. It was dark outside and the clock on the oven read 1:28 am. You navigate your flat with ease until you open a closet and pull a box from a shelf. Opening it, the bag of his ashes sit along with a few keepsakes that remind you of him. Remind you of times where you two laugh in pubs and drink your favorite beverages. That reminds you of his touch and shoulder touches, the sneaky kisses the two of had shared after that night. You look at your home phone and reach out to it. Slowly, you input the number Ghost gave you and you look at the numbers on screen. You press the call button.

It rings once, twice, thrice and just when you are about to hang up, he picks up. Ghost's voice comes through the phone, "What is it?"

"Can you come over?" You ask as you wipe your eyes and sniffle.

"I'm coming." He mutters before hanging up.

[saltofmercury]

Hi !! I saw ur post earlier and I do have some request if you don't mind ! 🫶🏻 ( you may ignore if you don't felt comfortable my love! )

I wanted to request König with HANDSOME AS HELL Fem!reader (if you know what I mean), No need to be tomboyish just a Handsome woman but is actually up to you. Just wanted to see König having a Handsome Girlfriend lol

Hope this works!

Pairing: König x f!reader

“Mine”

In a nest of blankets and pillows on your bed, both you and König were saying your goodbyes before he would leave for a month again.

Holding and caressing your face, small pecks were given by him to every inch of your face. Sighs coming from his mouth.

“Why couldn’t I be a teacher?” Pulling your head back and leaving marks all over your neck.

“Or maybe even a geologist. You know I hear they pay well for digging up dirt.”

You try to picture your boyfriend in a normal job setting.

“What about me? How am I going to tell everyone about these on my neck?”

“That you belong to someone?” "Your heart is with someone?" He scoffs and continues going down your neck, around your collarbone.

There was always something possessive with König. He made himself bigger, wider, to throw people off. He was never fond of PDA until you. He sheepishly said “I just like the feeling of everyone watching.”

Weird. Yet the man would not order at restaurants and excuse himself to the bathroom while giving you his order. He hated it.

He stopped for a minute staring at you again. Eyes fluttering toward yours, your nose, your lips. He stared back up at your eyes again, where you winked at him.

Flushes of pink rising up his face, he bites his lip rubs his hand on his face. He’s nervous, gets nervous when you’re so open and flirty with him.

“God, you’re so … beautiful.”

You laugh.

“König, you’re staring again.”

“No I’m not, I'm just trying to remember your face.”

“Do you understand how difficult it is to leave such a beautiful woman behind?”

You bite your lip, hide in his bare chest.

“There’s a reason I don’t take pictures with me of you. I would have to fight the whole crew for them not to come find you.”

He stops, adds, “Not that I couldn’t take them all.”

You look up again, “You would fight for me?”

He stops and realizes the can of worms he had been keeping from you.

“I did once.”

You blow raspberries out your mouth. Ignoring him. He could be lying.

“König stop it.”

He reaches over towards the bedside table. There inside is a Polaroid wallet full of pictures of you, him, random objects, and buildings you both take photos of. He scans the booklet for the picture. He pulls it out.

What he pulls out is a wrinkled picture, the corners of it are torn, the back of the photo looks like someone had already wrapped the picture in their palm attempting to destroy it. The picture is of you, König took it. His hand on your cheek, his thumb in between your lips. Your lips look pink, used, and swollen, but your eyes are seductive.

You remember what happened right after that picture snapped. König had tossed the camera and the photo aside to gently pull you down towards him.

“This photo right here had fallen out of my pouch.”

You stare at him. “So?”

He looks at you, with raised eyebrows. Of course he didn’t tell you.

“On the last trip I took, this photo fell out of my pouch.” He grabbed your cheeks again, set a full deep kiss and continued,

“A Scottish man had picked it up and began voicing obscenities”

Your eyes widen. Not only was this photo of personal property to König, but you were embarrassed anyone else had seen it. Had the photo been passed around?

König kept going—

Soap whistled,

“Je-sus fucking Christ would you look at her lips?”

“Got to be very careful around here mates, someone’s bird could be taken from right under their nose.”

“Aye, she looks like she could have a good time, could probably make her my bird.”

And I SWUNG AT HIM. König cut through what else happened that night.

“I promise you, dove, nobody could take me off of him until his big teammate had dragged him away from underneath me.” “He even tossed the photo towards me.”

You’re surprised. Surprised that he could let comments like that get to him.

“I grabbed the picture up and mashed it into my pocket and never opened it up until I got home.”

You’re kind of turned on. Knowing that you belonged to König and he didn’t want anyone else to know about you.

“That’s not all of it, from then on, everyone kept asking me about you and I even received comments from women on the team.”

He curls up against you again, one arm underneath and the other pressing your breasts toward him.

“Which is why when I say it’s hard to leave a beautiful woman behind, I don’t know who else is waiting for you around the corner.”

You laugh. Never thought König was the jealous type. Possessive? Maybe.

You huddle closer and grab his face.

“Guess you’re gonna have to fight more people huh?”

He pins you down against him. Holding your arms above your head.

“Mine” he claims. Continues sucking on your neck. “And I’ll let everyone in the world know.”

[penny00dreadful]

Eddie would sing Fat Bottomed Girls to Steve every chance he got.

On stage in front of thousands with grabby hands.

In the kitchen when Steve was "just trying to cook, Eds, for Christ's sake" giving his ass a few taps in time to his singing just to see it jiggle.

In the car where Steve had literally no escape and had to put up with it with a little frowny frown because he was trying so hard not to smile.

And when Robin had suspiciously been trying to keep his attention away from the stage at their wedding, Steve knew something was coming.

Steve had been expecting something to happen because Eddie was nothing if not a performer and to have an event centred around the two of them with their closest here to celebrate, he'd be more surprised if nothing happened.

But when whatever had been playing in the background faded out and he heard Eddie's voice boom out through the speakers-

Are you gonna take me home tonight?

Steve's eyes and Robin's grin grew wide at the same time.

Oh, down beside that red firelight

He hid his face in his hands, there were already whoops and wolf whistles from their gathered guests in his direction.

Are you gonna let it all hang out?

"Oh, don't pretend to be going bashful." Robin shouted at him, to be heard over Eddie's singing. "I've had to listen to too many horny thoughts from you about this song, you're so fucking in love right now, aren't you?"

Fat bottomed girls

You make the rockin' world go 'round

Steve lifted his face, unable to hide his huge smile any longer. Robin gave him a shove in the direction of the dance floor where the crowd parted for him with nudges and slaps on the shoulder.

Hey, I was just a skinny lad

Never knew no good from bad

But I knew life before I left my nursery, huh

Eddie was in his fucking element, bouncing around the small stage like it was Madison Square Garden.

He finally caught sight of Steve, who was red faced but couldn't stop grinning as he watched his now husband wave one hand down like he was mapping out curves.

Left alone with big fat Fanny

She was such a naughty nanny

Hey, big woman

You made a bad boy out of me

He fought the urge to hide his face again, especially when he remembered just who was here.

Hopper, Joyce, Mrs. Henderson, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, fucking Wayne was here watching him getting sexually serenaded.

Eddie continued to sing while the Corroded Coffin boys played through with matching exasperated but delighted grins, obviously having a great time simultaneously playing and embarrassing the shit out of Steve.

He was drawn to Eddie like a magnet. He didn't even remember stepping closer but next thing he knew he was in front of the stage, a one man recipient to a show just for him.

Eddie reached out and for one terrifying moment, Steve thought he was going to touch his hair.

He did not spend hours on it this morning only for it to be messed up before one of them got to be bent over their honeymoon suite bed later that night.

Eddie seemed to have realised that too, at the last second redirecting his hand to stroke over Steve's cheek.

Oh, but I still get my pleasure

Still got my greatest treasure

Hey, big woman, you gonna make a big man of me

The stage was low and it wasn't huge so Steve was only really at chest height, but he could tell in that moment and with those lyrics, all Eddie wanted to do was thrust his pelvis in Steve's face but thankfully he kept himself on a leash even though everyone behind Steve was still whooping and hollaring.

When the song finally closed out, Eddie threw the mic behind him, not much caring where it landed. Luckily for everyone's eardrums Grant managed to snatch it up with a scowl before it clattered to the ground.

Eddie wasn't paying attention though. He'd planted one hand on either of Steve's shoulders and jumped down from the stage, trusting that he'd be caught.

Which he was.

Eddie wrapped his legs around Steve's waist and Steve had to try very hard to not let his hands wander, so instead he locked his wrists under Eddie's thighs, maybe, just maybe getting away with a little pinch to the ass that only the Corroded Coffin boys could see.

They were extremely unbothered. They'd seen it all before. They'd seen much worse before.

"You're a menace." Steve grumbled, still unable to keep his smile away.

Eddie hummed in agreement, looking down on him from his higher position. "Your menace."

"My menace."

[dross-the-fish]

Why do you dislike Musical!PoTO?

I've heard that there are better versions than the ones I've seen (a couple of clips of boots on youtube, the 25th royal albert hall performance and the 2004 movie) so take my ranting with a grain of salt. I've said it before and if you've followed me you probably know by now that I don't care much for Andrew Lloyd Webber, I feel like he's very hit or miss and for every Jesus Christ Superstar he writes there's a Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat (pure shit, irredeemable, possibly the worst musical I've ever had to sit through) Something about Webber's music rubs me the wrong way, it seems like it's trying to be tongue-in-cheek but it just comes off as smug. Characters tend to feel extremely one-note. I HATE madam Giry in the musical. They kind of gave her the Daroga's role and it DOES NOT WORK. She says something early on in the film about how she thinks of Christine as a daughter but she doesn't do a fucking thing to protect her from Erik for the bulk of the musical? Like, you know what's going on, you know who her teacher is but your complicit in helping him deceive her? Why are you protecting him? It's not that you don't think he's dangerous, you clearly know he's capable of murder. I also hate how they handle Carlotta, she's not really a major character in the book and her singing is lacking not because she's bad but because she doesn't have any passion for her performances and she's wonderfully ruthless and calculating about ousting her competition. The depiction of a spoiled past her prime, primadonna who also can't sing and is too old for the roles she cast in is just another example of ALW being needlessly mean spirited. In the book she was actively manipulative about trying to kill Christine's career. There was something really villainous about the way she would use her popularity and her friends in high places to bribe the managers with flattery and gifts. She made newspapers stop giving Christine publicity to prevent her from getting her name out, then she filled the opera house with her own fans and supporters to outnumber anyone who was there for Christine. This woman has been in the game for a long time and she knows how to play it, probably because she's worked for years to build up her career and isn't ready to hand it over to some nobody from nowhere who happened to pop up on the one night Carlotta couldn't perform. You could write Carlotta with so much nuance and give her layers, make her an INTERESTING antagonist and ALW just doesn't. He goes for the low hanging fruit. The laziest trope he could have picked. Spoiled, vain and no actual talent. Given how much creative control over the movie he had I'm going to count that as his official adaptation of the musical and it takes everything I already don't like about the musical and makes it WORSE. Also I said before ALW writes music like someone who enjoys rock but doesn't actually understand it? "We needed somebody who has a bit of rock and roll sensibility in him. He's got to be a bit rough, a bit dangerous; not a conventional singer. Christine is attracted to the Phantom because he's the right side of danger." -Andrew Lloyd Webber on the character of Erik for the 2004 film. Honestly, no? No he doesn't, he has no rock and roll sensibility. Not in your musical, not in the book, not in the movie. What are you talking about Andy? That ridiculous guitar riff during the song The Phantom of the Opera? Because that meshed about as well with your hokey showtune style as eating cole slaw with your Chinese takeout. You CAN do it but you really shouldn't. "The film looks and sounds fabulous and I think it's an extraordinarily fine document of the stage show. While it doesn't deviate much from the stage material, the film has given it an even deeper emotional centre. It's not based on the theatre visually or direction-wise, but it's still got exactly the same essence. And that's all I could have ever hoped for." – Andrew Lloyd Webber

Andy you're full of crap. Go home. That said there are moments and songs I really like. Wishing you Were Somehow Here Again is heartbreaking and I like to think that she's talking about Erik and the broken pedestal of their relationship as much as she is her father. I don't know if that was intentional but I like the angle of Christine feeling heartbroken at the loss of a friend and father. But well, ALW ships Erik and Christine so of course that angle is never really considered. We get one moment where Christine is upset and says she gave Erik her mind blindly and one where she admits to being frightened of him before the performance of Don Juan, but I feel like as much as Christine is verbally resistant to him and clearly terrified of him the musical doesn't really validate her and takes every opportunity to build up the sexual tension between her and the phantom. The supporting characters don't really help either, Madam Giry is complicit in Erik's manipulations, Raoul seems largely dismissive and more focused on hunting down Erik when he finally believes her than protecting Christine (AllI Ask of You is a nice song but Raoul's actions and attitude before and after make it feel a bit hollow). In some weird ways I get why people watch the musical and think Erik is the better choice despite...the stalking, kidnapping and murder. No one is really committed to protecting this girl, not even the people who claim to love her. I can easily see how she'd still feel a need to cling to her angel of music even after the mask comes off given how completely ALONE she seems while surrounded by people who allegedly care about her. I also don't like how Raoul is depicted. Maybe it's the actors but I feel like he and Christine don't have chemistry and half the time he seems annoyed with her. Especially Hadley Frasier feels like he's ten minutes from being completely done, he has no patience. I don't buy that this is a man who ran into the sea to fetch her scarf or would run into a dangerous underground lair to rescue her but I do buy that he's going to become a drunken asshole in 10 years so I guess what they did with him in LND is predictable even if it is completely stupid. If you made it to the bottom of this rant congratulations, I hope that explains why I am not among the musical's phans and why I don't like how much it eclipses the book or other versions. I do think it's good but overrated and the flaws are more than I can over look. And yet I still seek it out from time to time, I still like the parts of it that I like and that I think do work. It's like a toxic ex I can't fully break up with, which I suppose is kind of fitting given the subject matter.

[kpop---scenarios]

Linked (1)

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Y/N

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Eventual Smut, Mean people, Language.

A/N: I'm back baby! I hope you all enjoy the first chapter!!

"Miss Y/N?" A woman says, breaking you out of your concentration of looking at tikok’s. 

Startled, you look up and standing before you is a very pretty, well dressed woman holding files between her petite fingers. "Are you ready for your interview?" She asks. 

Taking a small breath, as you nod your head and smile at the woman. "I'm Ava, and I'll be conducting your interview on Mr. Byun's behalf." She says, walking through the office hallways. It's so plain, the white walls just dying for at least a pop of color, or even a picture of some sort. Ava leads you into a plain white room, nothing in it but the necessary items. Did you really want to work somewhere so boring? You were lost in your thoughts again after answering only a few routine questions. 

"I think you'd be a perfect fit for this job." Ava smiles. You'd only been talking for 15 minutes before she decided. 

"Thank you." You smile. 

"I'd like to offer you the position as the Senior Data Analyst. You'd be working directly under Mr. Byun." She tells you. 

"Sure. Yes, thank you so much." You say. One thing checked off your list. Find a job, find an apartment, and get settled in this new town. Luckily you had an apartment view right after this interview, and considering you were hired on the spot you had an extremely good feeling. 

The apartment sucked, but you took it anyway. You would try your best to make the small studio apartment feel like home, but you weren't quite sure how. You weren't the most stylish, if you really had to describe yourself, you were quite bland. You knew the clothes you wore were a size or two too big, but you had no urge to change yourself. For what, or for who? You had no one in your life to care about, you didn't even care about yourself.

You laid in your bed that night, staring at the popcorn ceiling, as you remembered why you moved here in the first place, and your heart broke all over again. 

**

Slowly and quietly you pressed your ear to the bedroom door at this party. 

"Stop telling Y/N she has a chance with me. Please, it makes me sick to even think about it." You hear Hongjoong laugh loudly. "I can't even listen to her talk for more than 30 seconds at a time. I don't know how you do it. Her voice is so fucking annoying." 

"Right? I swear to go sometimes I feel like my ears are bleeding. And you should see her when she cries. So fucking ugly." You hear Maya giggle. 

"And is it just me or is she fucking dumb? How could she love me for all these years and not realize how repulsed I am by her?" He asks. 

Ouch. 

“I know math isn’t her best subject but Christ, can't she add up all the things you don’t do around her and see you’re not into her, and never will be? I mean, you try to leave the room whenever she enters." Maya laughs. "So there's no chance of you leaving me for her?" 

"You think I'm gonna leave a goddess like you, for that thing? Come on, baby, you should know me better than that. Plus, she doesn't have a set of tits like these." He laughs. 

As quickly as the hurtful words began, they stopped. You weighed your options of what to do but your body still felt too numb to move. 

You stood there, your ear pressed against the door feeling your stomach sink. You wanted to run away but it was like your feet were glued to the floor. 

The floor that made your knees feel weak as you turned the door knob and pushed the door open to see Maya, on top of Hongjoong. 

The music that was once pounding in your ears was now quiet. It was so muffled as you began to only hear your own shallow and fast breaths. You could hear and feel your heart pumping at a pace you were sure was off the charts, while also slowly ripping into tiny pieces. 

You felt like you couldn't breathe as his hands gripped her body. They hadn't heard the door opening. 

The walls were suddenly caving in as he slowly slid his fingers up and down her curves moving over her ass to squeeze it. 

Tears fell from your eyes as you watched him touching her in ways that you had once dreamt about. 

Your face begins to burn in complete embarrassment. The fucking betrayal you felt from someone who said they loved you. Maya was supposed to be your best friend. She was the one who was by your side when you cried, wondering why he didn't love you back. She held you as you sobbed into her lap, she wiped your tears away and always had comforting words for you. She would laugh at his Instagram page with you and acted as if she didn't even like him.

But here she was ripping you apart with him for their own enjoyment.  

**

Tears streamed from your face as you rolled over in your bed. You hated remembering that day. The day you lost your best friend. It hurt so bad and you know you needed to move on but that's always easier said than done.

The next morning you woke up, exhausted and not ready for the day but you had your first day of work. You'd tried to look up Mr. Byun last night, but there were no pictures of him anywhere. You thought that was a little odd, but didn't chalk it up too much. You got ready for the day in record time, putting on your too big skirt, with your too big shirt and oversized blazer. You put your hair up the best you could and avoided all makeup. 

Slowly, you walk into the building, making your way to the 35th floor, where your office was supposed to be. The entire floor was empty when you arrived. Just the way you liked it. You popped in your airpods, started your music and got to work organizing the 5 items on your desk. It took you roughly 3 minutes. You glanced at the clock, 6:55am. You still had 35 minutes until you were technically supposed to start, but it never hurt to get a head start. You worked for a little bit, listening to your favorite songs before you barely noticed a few people entering their cubicles. You mostly ignored them, offering a small nod of acknowledgement before getting back to work. You hadn't noticed anyone walking into the all glass office in front of you, until you felt your heart tug. A feeling you had never once felt before. You looked up and saw the most handsome, stone-cold looking man you'd ever seen. You couldn't take your eyes off of him, it was like you were drawn to him. 

"Handsome, huh?" You hear, breaking you out of your trance. 

"Who? What?" You say, looking up. Standing in front of you is a thin, blonde bombshell with a smile that could make you forget any worry in your life. “Hi. I’m Y/N.” You cough. She was so beautiful, it made you extremely nervous. 

"Hi, I'm Lisa, I work in that cubicle to your left." She says with a smile. “I just wanted to bring these over for approval from you, and introduce myself.” She explains, showing a small pile of papers in her hand. You were listening to her, but you had a hard time keeping yourself engaged in the conversation. Your eyes continued to dart towards the man who took your breath away and Lisa definitely noticed. She let out a small giggle to regain your attention. You swiftly looked back at her, giving her an apologetic smile. 

 "That's Mr. Byun.” She tells you. “Do your work, don’t get in his way and don’t question him and you’ll be just fine.” she tells you. 

“He looks mad.” You say, taking a quick glance at him before looking back to Lisa. 

“That’s just his face I think. He always looks like he’s got a painful stick up his ass." She whispers. 

"Why did you start whispering?" You asked. 

She sets the pile of papers on your desk, looking back towards Mr. Byun's office and looking back at you. "He hears everything." She whispers again, walking out of your office with a smile.  

Your eyes turned over to Mr. Byun, you were having a hard time turning your gaze somewhere else. There was just something about him that was driving you crazy. You watched as he shouted at someone on the phone, the veins in his neck and hands popping out intensely. His dark brown hair flowed perfectly on his head. His suit fit him perfectly, you could see the muscles all over his body. 

Suddenly he slammed the phone down onto the receiver, you were surprised it didn’t break with the amount of force he used. He rubs his eyes before running his fingers through his hair. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours without hesitation. Your heart pulls toward him. You wanted to get out of your seat and slip your tongue into his mouth. You wanted to be near him, holding him and you didn't know why. His eyes are still on yours as he walks out of his office, heading straight for you. Your heart begins to pound as he gets closer to you. 

"Who are you?" He asks, abruptly. You're looking directly in his eyes, you can’t help but almost get lost in them. They’re so dark, like they're filled with pure hatred. 

"Uh, I'm L/N Y/N. I'm your new Senior Data Analyst. " You respond. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Byun." 

"We’ll see about that. Get to work Miss. L/N." He says, walking out of your office and back to his. Your eyes meet again as he brings down his shade, his eyes still glued to yours. 

The rest of the day, you couldn't get him off your mind. You had a hell of a time trying to focus on any of your work. You just wanted to see him again. Anytime you let your mind wonder, it went to him immediately. You felt like you loved him but you didn't even know him.

After you had finally finished all your work, it was dark outside. You let out a big, loud yawn as you stretched your body from your desk. You gathered all your belongings and turned the lights out to your office. As you walked by Mr. Byun’s office, you noticed the lights were still on. You peaked in through a small patch of glass that was uncovered from the shade and saw him sitting at his desk with another extremely handsome man, sitting across from him. You knew you shouldn’t have been peaking in, but your curiosity got the better of you. Within seconds, Mr. Byun’s head whipped around, his eye’s shooting daggers towards you. 

You let out a small screech before you quickly take off to the elevator, hoping that either it comes fast or he doesn't come out of his office after you. You get onto the elevator and press the close door button as quickly as you can.

You made it home that night without incident and without Mr. Byun yelling at you for being nosey. You just needed to mind your business and not do that again. 

You dreamt of him that night. His hands gliding over your body, his tongue licking you everywhere, how he tasted, how it felt to have him on top of you. You woke up in a puddle of sweat the next morning. You had so wished it was real. 

The rest of the week went by, and he paid you no attention at all. He didn't even bring up your little snooping issue. Whenever he had a request from you, he sent Ava to ask you. Obviously he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself. You hated that. You wanted to see him again. 

He kept the shades of his glass office down, further avoiding any contact with you. It wasn’t until the next week that you’d finally be able to see him again. Lisa had ever-so apologetically placed a stack of papers on your desk, minutes before 5pm. You weren't one to just leave the papers for the morning, and honestly, you had no one waiting for you at home so why wouldn't you stay late and do them. Around 8pm, you’d finally finished and you were carefully planning Lisa’s murder for the next day. You were exhausted. You grabbed your coat off the back of your chair and rubbed your eyes while you walked towards the elevator. You were so tired you didn’t even look in Mr. Byun’s office as you passed it. You had expected him to have left hours ago anyways. You pressed the down button on the wall and waited silently. It wasn't until a few seconds later you felt someone standing behind you. The doors to the elevator ding, sliding open. You turn around and see him standing there, an unimpressed expression plastered on his face. 

He looks at you and at the open elevator doors, motioning for you to get in. your brain finally clicks and you get on as he follows behind you. You press the button for the first floor and prepare for an uncomfortable and silent ride down 34 floors. Mr.Byun takes a deep breath as he stands next to you, your arms just almost touching. “Why are you here?” he murmurs under his breath. You barely didn’t quite catch what he had said. 

“What was that?” You ask, turning your head to look at him. 

He sighs. Turning towards you, taking a few steps until you're backed into the wall. He places his hand next to your head, leaning himself in closer to you. 

“I said.. Why are you here?” he whispers, his lips so close to yours. “Do you have any fucking idea what youre doing to me?” he asks, breathing heavily. His head moves closer to you, his lips narrowly escaping yours as he places his head onto your neck, inhaling deeply. It was like he couldn't get enough of your smell. Before you could say anything the elevator dings, and he moves away from you as fast as he can, walking out into the lobby, leaving you there wondering what the fuck just happened.

**

Over the next several weeks after that incident, he kept trying his best to ignore you. Everyday. Occasionally you’d catch a glance of him, and the eye contact was so intense you could feel heat running through your entire body. Everyday that you didn’t see him, your heart hurt more and more. You couldn’t explain why but it felt like it was breaking you. You knew it was ridiculous, he was your boss, how could you love him? 

You didn't have an answer to why you did, but you did and you really didn't want to.

After working at your office for a few months, you decided you needed a change. You were tired of looking frumpy and exhausted while everyone around you looked bright and amazing. You needed to reinvent yourself, and spice up your life and you needed to do it now or you wouldn’t do it at all. That weekend you took the plunge. 

You went to the salon first. you got your hair done something that was better suited for you, a new style and new color. You went to the mall, and completely changed your wardrobe from the baggy clothes you were wearing to things you normally would never wear. You bought outfits that actually fit you, and showed off your body instead of hiding it. You bought proper bras and sexy panties. You felt good and different, but a good different. You couldn't wait to showcase the new you. You had never felt so confident in yourself before, and you loved it. 

Monday morning, you strutted into the office, your dress hugging your curves, your hair bouncing as you walked. You could feel all eyes on you as you walked to your office. You had never felt everyone watching you in a good way before and it felt amazing. You placed your jacket on the hook and sat in your chair to get to work. Lisa walked into your office with her mouth hanging wide open. 

“Girl.” She squeals. “You look phenomenal!” She eye’d you up and down, admiring your outfit.

You could feel your cheeks get hot from the compliment. “Thank you.” you laughed. “It feels weird, but good.” you tell her. 

“It should feel all good, girl. You look great.” she smiles. “Also Ava is out today, so i've been instructed to tell you that Mr. Byun needs to see you in his office.” She says, side eyeing his office.  

You try your best to swallow the lump in your throat as you nod your head. You hadn't seen him when you walked in, and you anxiously wondered what he would possibly think of your new look. You stood up, smoothed out your dress before heading towards his office. You stood in front of the door, breathing heavily as you knocked lightly on his door. 

“Come in.” you hear from a gruff voice. 

You turn the handle to his door and walk in and it’s like you can’t breathe. He sits there, his hands in his lap, leaning back in his chair. Fuck he looks so good. 

“You wanted to see me?” you ask. 

“You changed yourself.” he points out. His eyes trail your body up and down as he admires you. 

“Just a few things. What did you need to see me for, Mr. Byun?” you ask. You wanted to get out of there as fast as you could. Your heart was racing, you could feel the sweat covering the palms of your hands. 

“Call me Baekhyun.” he says, getting out of his chair. He walks towards you, almost in slow-motion, like he was gliding towards you. You step back as he gets closer to you. His head reaches out, caressing your face. 

“It’s getting too hard to fight, Y/N.” he whispers, looking deep into your eyes. “I don’t want to want you.” 

“I don’t want to want you either.” You admit. 

“You feel it too? The pull, the urge, the desperation?” he asks. You can’t speak, you can only nod your head. “Then it’s true.. You are my mate.”  

“I'm your what..” you ask. Before he can answer, his door swings open. Baekhyun backs away from you and in walks a brunette bombshell. She was absolutely stunning and you’d never seen her before. 

“Jennie.” Baekhyun says, clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?” he asks. 

“Poor girl looks frightened, Baeky.” she smiles. “I hope you're not scaring your staff too much.” she giggles. 

“Who are y..” you begin before she cuts you off. 

“Oh!” she laughs. “I’m Jennie Kim.” she announces, moving closer to Baekhyun,  wrapping her arm around him. 

“I’m his fiancee.” 

[happy74827]

Just Words

[Siobhan Roy x GN!Reader]

Synopsis: Words can be hurtful (especially to most) but with Siobhan’s “5-star” personality and ability to not care about anything other than herself, you can’t help BUT spill some words. {GIF Creds: @olliviacooke// I took this off of google (fair warning) so I had to dig deep to find the OP}

WC: 2274

Category: Slight Fluff (?), Enemies to… trope {Trigger Warning: Foul Language (I really channeled the Roy family here), Logan}

I did not expect my first succession fic to be Siobhan… but honestly, I’m not complaining 👀 (fyi: this was a request and I stupidly forgot to “answer” so hopefully the anon who requested lovely Shiv finds this 💀)

『••✎••』

Siobhan Roy… mega bitch. You hated her. Well, that might be an understatement; you despised her. From the moment you met her, she was just a total and complete pain in your ass. Not to mention completely and utterly self-absorbed. She had the attitude and ego of a child.

So when you were made to work with her, you were less than pleased. Logan Roy, the only man who could top Siobhan in terms of being an insufferable asshole, had made you a deal. If you and Siobhan worked together to find a solution to the media shitstorm he was currently experiencing, he would put you on the team that handled the IPO of Waystar. It was the opportunity you had been waiting for, so you sucked it up and agreed.

You and Siobhan sat in the meeting, both of you looking like a pair of miserable children. It made Roman look like a ray of sunshine, and that was really saying something.

Logan slammed the door, causing you to flinch.

"Fuck," he said, taking his seat.

"What?" asked Siobhan, a tinge of irritation in her voice. It’s amazing how her mood could shift on a dime.

"Nothing. I'm just a bit tired of this fucking circus."

"Well, what the fuck do you expect? You made a public promise. If you can't make good on it, why not just say so? Why continue this fucking farce?"

Logan narrowed his eyes at her.

"If I wanted to hear that, Siobhan, I would have gone to my wife's bed. I don't need a cunt in my ear right now."

Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'm a realist. You're the one who wants to live in your fantasy world. Just fucking drop the bomb, tell the truth, and let's move on."

"The truth? And what is the truth? That my son’s a psychotic, drug-addled mess? That Kendall is a sniveling, entitled little fuck? A pathetic, whiny, little shit stain who can't do his job because he's too busy jerking himself off to his own sob story? Is that the truth you want to set free?"

Siobhan stared him down, and once again, you were surprised. You had thought the woman was completely brazen, but there were still limits.

"I'm not your therapist," she said.

"No. You're not. And I'm not going to sit here and listen to a woman with the emotional range of a fucking teaspoon telling me how to handle this situation. Now, I need to get on the phone with my PR team. Fuck off, all of you. Get back to work."

You and Roman both jumped up, quickly leaving the room. Once you were safely away from Logan, you took a deep breath and relaxed a bit.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you muttered, "I don't know how she does it."

Roman smirked, "Oh, she's a special snowflake—a real ball buster. You should see her with Tom. It's a fucking bloodbath."

“Tell me about it. It’s a raging dumpster fire, even saying more than two words to her. I feel like she's going to snap my head off any minute. I’m so tired of her bullshit, and she's the least of my worries. The whole family is a fucking disaster. And I don't have time for any of it…. No offense.”

Roman gave you a half smile. "None taken. You're right; I'm the best of a very bad lot."

"Well, at least you're self-aware."

“You fuckers talking shit about me behind my back?"

You turned and saw Shiv leaning against the wall.

"Always," replied Roman. "And it's fucking hilarious."

"Well, don't let me stop you," she said, rolling her eyes. Her eyes then shifted to you.

"I didn't realize we were having a fucking slumber party."

"Just having a bit of a break," you said.

"Oh, well, that's very fucking nice. I'm glad everyone is taking a fucking break because I've been dealing with our father, who is a raging psycho at the moment. You know, while the rest of you are fucking around, the company is dying. It's falling apart, and everyone is too fucking busy to give a shit."

"Come on, Shivvy. Take a breather. You’re starting to act like Kendall… and that's never a good look," said Roman.

"Fuck off, Ro.”

Shiv glared at him, then glanced back at you. The glare made you want to hide, but you refused to show fear in front of her. You had done it in the past, and it only fed her.

"Well," she said, "aren't you going to say anything? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open like an idiot?"

"I think I'll take option B. I'd like to live through this," you replied.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I think it's pretty clear."

"Yeah, I suppose it is. I guess I shouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

"Someone like me?"

“Shiv,” warned Roman, trying to interject. Personally, despite his whacked-out sense of humor, you actually enjoyed his company. He was definitely the least obnoxious of the Roy siblings. “Let’s not get into this now, okay? Just drop it."

"No. No, go ahead, Shiv. Let's have it out. Right here, right now. Let's see if you can handle it."

Shiv stared at you for a few moments, then she smiled. It wasn’t her usual smug, condescending grin. It was different, almost sincere.

"You think you're tough?" she asked.

"No. I know I am. It's a little different, don't you think?"

"Okay," she replied, her eyes darkening. She leaned forward, her face just inches from yours. Roman just looked at the two of you as if watching a tennis match. "You're so sure you can handle me. So why don't you prove it?"

"Prove it? Like, what, punch you in the face? Is that what you want?"

"Although, as satisfying as that sounds, I was thinking we all should just move on… maybe have a drink, talk it over? Yeah? No?”

Shiv just looked at you. "Yeah, I'll pass. I'm not here to make friends, and I'm certainly not here to kiss your ass."

"That's good. Because, honestly, I don't see you as the ass-kissing type. Tom, yes. You? Not a chance. You're the type who wants everything to be handed to you on a silver platter. I'm sorry, but I'm not the maid. I'm not going to serve you or kiss your ass. I'm here because I have a job to do, and I intend to do it. That's it.”

"Oh, right. I see. Well, then, why don't we cut the bullshit and just get right to it. How about you go back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and let the real people get on with things."

“Guys-” Roman started.

"Real people? Real people? You think you're real? You think this is real? I hate to break it to you, Siobhan, but you're not a princess, and this isn't a fairy tale. You're not the queen. Your father isn't the king. You're a spoiled brat, and he's… well, he’s Logan. He's not even a king. He's just a bully."

"Is that supposed to hurt me? To insult me?"

"No, but you seem like the kind of person who doesn't take criticism well. You’re doing a terrible job.”

Shiv stared at you, her lip curled up in disgust. She looked as if she were about to hit you, but the rage was just a facade.

"Well," she finally said, "It's a good thing we're not here to play fucking games, then. So why don't you shut the fuck up and get back to work? Unless, of course, you don't think you can handle it. Maybe you should just go back to where you came from, and let the real people get on with things."

Your nostrils flared. It took every ounce of strength in you not to smack the look off her face. But you knew better. If you started a fight, Logan would take your head off, and that was a fight you couldn't win. So, instead, you smiled.

"Fine," you said. "If that's what you want. I'll do my job, and you do yours. But, just remember, the day is coming when this little charade is going to come to an end, and when it does, it's going to be a lot worse than it is right now."

You didn't wait for her reply. Instead, you turned and walked away, leaving the two of them standing in the hallway.

Once you were back in the safety of your office, you collapsed into your chair and let out a sigh. You had just gotten your first taste of a Roy fight, and it was worse than you had anticipated. The worst part was Siobhan had gotten the last word. It didn't matter that you might’ve won. She had gotten the last good word, and you hated her for it.

As the hours ticked by, you became more and more frustrated. You were angry and bitter. You were pissed at yourself for letting Shiv get under your skin, and you were angry at her for getting to you.

So, when your phone rang and you saw her name, you were tempted to ignore it. You let it ring for a few seconds, then decided to answer.

"Yes?” Your attitude was short.

"Get your shit together," she snapped. “We have a meeting in five minutes. We have a lot of ground to cover."

That was, in fact, false. By the time you arrived, the conference room was deserted, and only Shiv remained. She was sitting at the table, her laptop open in front of her.

"What the hell?" you demanded.

"I'm sorry. Did you want a fucking audience? Because that can be arranged. But, if you don't mind, I would prefer not to have any interruptions."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that we are both here, and we have a job to do. Now, either sit down and help me, or fuck off. I really don't give a shit."

You stared at her, and she looked up from her laptop, raising an eyebrow. There was no audience, and there wasn’t going to be one. So, you had two options. Either walk away and look like an idiot, or stay and possibly get chewed out again. You took a deep breath and sat down.

Shiv just hummed in response, then looked back at her screen. "Good choice."

For the next couple of hours, the two of you worked together, trying to figure out a way to turn the situation around. Arguments arose, shots were fired, and at one point, Shiv threatened to kick you out, but overall, it was a productive session. Logan wouldn’t be pissed, so that was a win.

"So," Shiv said as the two of you left the building, "Did you cool down?"

"What?"

"I'm asking if you cooled down. Do you feel better now?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I? You know, besides the fact that we were at each other's throats for hours and the fact that we both wanted to kill each other. I'm peachy."

"Mm, peachy." She said the word like it was an insult. "That's a strange choice of words, don't you think?”

“What? The real people don’t use the word peachy, huh? Is it beneath you, Shiv? Do you only use fancy words and proper grammar?"

"Oh, I can be a real commoner when the situation calls for it. It's all about knowing your audience."

"Really? So, is this the commoner Shiv? Should I expect a new side of you?"

"Maybe.” She smiled oddly again. The one that made you nervous. "Maybe not. That depends on you. Do you want to know the real me?"

"No, not particularly."

"Good. Because I'm not interested in showing you. I’m just curious if you have what it takes."

"To what, put up with your bullshit? To put up with a spoiled brat who thinks the world is hers for the taking? Mmm, yeah, I think I've got what it takes."

"Okay, first off, fuck you. Second, you're a piece of shit. Third, I have something to tell you. So, listen up. This is important. Okay, ready?"

You were about to say something, but her expression stopped you. Her voice was low, her tone serious. You nodded.

"I'm a bitch. And, yeah, I have a temper, and I'm not a warm and fuzzy kind of girl. But, that's the thing, I don't need to be. I don't need to pretend that I'm anything other than who I am. I don't have to fake it because I know what I want, and I'm not afraid to go after it. That’s what you need to understand. It's not about what you think you need. It's about what you want and what you're willing to do to get it."

You just stared at her, unsure of what to say.

"So, let me ask you, what do you want? And are you willing to do what it takes to get it?"

You thought about it for a second. "I want a drink. A strong one."

A little comedy never hurt anyone. And judging by her expression, you could tell you had made her smile.

"Well, that's a start." Siobhan had a smirk on her face. "Alright, fine. Let's get that drink. Then we'll see how far that gets you."

"Yeah," you muttered, "I'm sure."

But, as you walked down the street, you couldn't help but think about the question. What did you want?

And what was Siobhan offering?

[snarkydame]

FuCkInG Christ, but people are so shatteringly disappointing.

And I don't mean the MAGA sideshow that follows him around like a bad smell, afraid of trans kids and drag queens and education and everyone and everything that might make them feel like they aren't the center of the world. I wrote them off eight years ago.

And I don't mean the billionaires and the idiots who think they'll be billionaires TOO, someday, if they're just allowed to do what they want without consequences.

I wrote them off even longer ago.

I mean the quiet, smugly self satisfied assholes who'd rather hold their nose and vote for Donald Trump - who'd be an actual fascist if he cared enough about anything other than his own damn ego to commit to it - than vote for a black woman who probably wouldn't let them kick out their neighbors who don't speak English with the right accent. Who might make them confront the fact that Other People do not believe or want the same things that they do, and those Other People have rights too. The ones who'd rather let everything burn rather than let a marginally competent government tell them what to do.

I mean.

What the actual fuck is wrong with people.