#how dare i have to pay money to create

[googoogagahearteyes]

Let me into a ceramics studio I need to create shit with my bare hands and then come close to eating it or smashing it

[gabrielleragusi]

For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies

Hi there! I’ve been wanting to compile a list of commission platforms that I’ve personally used for the longest time, and I finally did it! I’ve highlighted the still-active commission platforms in bold and struck those that don't exist anymore so you can jump to the sections that interest you without needing to read my entire story.

Let me start by briefly introducing myself.

I’m Gabrielle, a fantasy illustrator. Since 2014, I’ve been working on book covers and illustrations for publishers, authors, and book subscription boxes. Early on, work wasn’t as frequent as it is now. I had to search for opportunities myself, and even small private commissions were important for building my portfolio and earning some money, which I’d spend on materials, books, and online courses. Like many other artists, I started out by trying my luck with the biggest art community available at the time.

DeviantArt

2009-2018

Once upon a time, there was a virtual haven called DeviantArt. To my teenage self, it was a magical place. I signed up in 2009 and thought I’d never leave!

At first, I created an account just to share my work and learn. I didn’t even think about commissions for four or five years. But when that first inquiry finally landed in my inbox, things took off! My mum swears she remembers my excitement when I got my first commission, but for some reason, I’ve completely forgotten about it. I can't remember what it was or how much it paid. It might have been a portrait of a fantasy character.

Commissions on DeviantArt were fairly frequent, especially considering my cheap prices at the time. I used to offer discounts and post my rates in my DeviantArt journal, or in Commission groups that featured artists either monthly or weekly. After checking out my profile, a client could simply send me a private message and from there, we’d discuss payment, deadlines, and other details, and the platform didn’t take any fees, much like how ArtStation works today. Everything happened through private messages or email, with direct contact between artist and client.

The downside of this process was that there was no dispute resolution system on the platform. I had to handle all issues myself, and unfortunately, problems did arise sometimes: there were clients changing their minds about commissions, asking for refunds after work was delivered, refusing to pay, or just ghosting me. These issues didn’t happen because clients were evil, but rather because I was inexperienced and allowed some to take advantage of my naivety.

However, all that frustration helped me develop my commission process through trial and error (mostly error). And despite the challenges, I can say with satisfaction that most of the commissions I received through my DeviantArt profile were positive experiences.

DeviantArt eventually introduced a commission feature for Core (Premium) users, which came with a platform fee, but I didn’t use it much, and I’m not sure if it still exists.

The real beauty of dA, though, was the connections I made. I was able to meet people, both artists and clients, that I’m still in contact with today, and some of whom I still collaborate with.

I closed my account in 2018 or 2019, but by that time, I hadn’t really used it for a couple of years. The new user interface was a bit of a turn-off for me. I had always loved the geeky, and dare I say cozy, look of the old green and grey aesthetic, with its customisable panels that you could move around and personalise with HTML code... But I digress.

Artists and Clients

2013-2016

While taking small commissions on DeviantArt, I discovered Artists & Clients. It was a nice platform for clients to get things like their D&D characters or groups illustrated for relatively cheap. I think my highest price was $50 for a single character portrait, with the platform taking a 15% cut. I used it for about two or three years before the platform started to change.

As more artists with hentai art styles flooded in, the homepage shifted, and so did the clientele. There’s nothing wrong with drawing naked anime girls, of course, but you can understand that if a client is looking for a fantasy, semi-realistic painting of their female orc character, or a realistic portrait of their spouse, it's more than likely that they won't bother sifting through a sea of anime girls to find the style they want, imagining it isn't here. Let's just say that, at the time, the website took a definite direction that wasn't in line with my genre, but this direction didn't make the different, more realistic art styles stand out either.

Soon, commissions slowed down for me, so I closed my account, but by then I was already working elsewhere.

That said, this platform could still be a useful tool if you’re looking to take on smaller commissions.

DreamUp

2014-2015

DreamUp wasn’t an AI generator back then. It was actually a subsidiary of DeviantArt, where clients could post projects and artists could apply. It was a competitive platform that offered well-paid work–very well-paid. I remember seeing jobs posted that ranged from $300 to $1,200. DreamUp was a very professional platform for clients with a mid to high budget.

I believe I landed my very first book cover commission through this website when I was in my last year of high school. I remember getting the job and going to school the next morning, excited to share the news with my classmates. Everyone was super thrilled for me (we were a really close-knit class!), and I felt like I was walking on air.

Unfortunately, as far as I know, that book was never released, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward, and fast.

I’m not sure when DreamUp was shut down, but I do know that DeviantArt held onto the copyrighted name, assigning it to something so anti-old DreamUp that it still boggles my mind.

ArtCorgi

Now Artistree

2014-2019

When I received an invitation to join ArtCorgi from its founder, I already had a somewhat consistent portfolio. I was painting portraits and fantasy illustrations, and the clients on this platform were looking for both–your typical wedding and pet portraits, as well as book covers, which were what really interested me. To get to the latter, I had to do the former. Over the years, I’ve painted so many realistic portraits that now I have a strict rule for my own sanity not to do them any more. I have great respect for portrait artists, but it’s just not me.

When I first submitted my prices to the person I was in contact with, she kindly suggested that I raise them... a lot. That was a major step forward in my professional career. I went from charging $50 to $100/$200 overnight. And to my surprise, people actually wanted to commission me at those prices!

From 2014 to 2019, I took nearly every commission that came my way. I never spoke directly with the clients; all instructions and feedback went through my point of contact, which helped maintain a level of professionalism, although now that I’m used to working directly with clients, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to having an intermediary.

Sadly, as with all good things, this chapter came to an end. My point of contact eventually left communication in the hands of someone else, and shortly after, the commission fee changed to, I believe, 30%.

Simply put, 30% is an unrealistic cut for a website like this. For an agent that gets you all kinds of big work in the publishing industry, sure, but since this was not the case I had to stop taking commissions. Despite that, my overall experience with ArtCorgi was very positive.

Today, ArtCorgi joined another platform, Artistree. As far as I can tell, Artistree doesn’t take any fees from artists, with clients covering a small cost instead.

Sketchmob (?)

2016-2020

This was probably the platform I used the most. I’ve lost count of how many commissions I received through Sketchmob. Many. Enough to generate a steady income at the time. With reasonable fees and a variety of art styles available, clients contacted me almost daily. Communication was direct between artists and clients, and payments could be split. The review system also worked very well… for a while.

Once I raised my prices, requests became fewer and farther apart. But by then, I was already working with my own clients.

Is this platform still active? Who knows. The website is still up and the chat feature works, but I’ve seen users complain that money available for withdrawal never arrived via PayPal (the only payment method the platform accepted, if I remember correctly). Personally, I wouldn’t risk completing a job through Sketchmob right now, at least not until they release an update.

If you’ve used the platform recently and successfully received payment within the last six months, please let me know, and I’d be happy to update this section!

Upwork

2017-2019

In 2017, I was determined to break into the book publishing industry. After trying out Fiverr and Freelancer.com with no success (the competition was too fierce for someone just starting out), I decided to give Upwork a shot. The platform looked very professional, and while the process sounded a bit complicated, I wanted to land the interesting projects I saw featured in my category. I really wanted to work with a big client… but big clients didn’t seem to want me, despite having the Rising Talent badge.

In two years of bidding for jobs and submitting proposals, I only landed two projects: a small commission from a private client who actually reached out to me, and another project that I bid on.

Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic at the time and truly appreciated every opportunity that came my way. But looking back, I can see why Upwork didn’t work out for me. The platform just wasn’t the right fit for my style and niche, which is fantasy illustration. Graphic design, however, was (and still is) in much higher demand.

The commission process on Upwork wasn’t as simple as on other platforms. For instance, at the time, costs were calculated hourly, which was a challenge for someone like me who prefers working with flat fees (having already calculated my average hours spent on an illustration). From what I’ve seen, this has since changed.

One positive aspect of Upwork is its current 10% cut on what artists earn. I don’t recall if this has changed over the years, but 10% is quite reasonable in my experience. Of course, 0% would be even better, but for a platform as large as Upwork, 10% is fair.

Illustration Agency

2019-2021

By 2019, I had built a solid, consistent portfolio thanks to my personal work and commissions. I had a simple website in place, my Instagram following was growing… I was steadily working toward my goal of illustrating covers for big publishers (which didn't happen until two years ago).

So, when an illustration agency reached out to me one day, I was over the moon. I had always heard that artists were the ones who had to approach agencies, not the other way around.

Well, that should have been my first red flag.

I won’t name this agency because, unfortunately, I have nothing positive to say about it. In fact, the word “nothing” perfectly describes my involvement with them. Nothing came of this barely there experience.

The agency invited me to sign up, not on an exclusive basis, but they assured me they’d get me work. That work never came. Once in a while, I’d receive messages saying they were trying to pitch my portfolio to a French publisher or another client, but... nothing.

Please understand that meanwhile I was already working directly with shops and authors, so I don’t believe my portfolio was the problem. The real issue was something I didn’t realise at the time: some agencies do this. They feature talented artists in their catalogue without having actual clients lined up, just to appear more professional and credible to potential clients. Did this strategy work for them? Maybe. I’ll never know.

In 2021, I politely asked them to remove my portfolio from their website, and that was the end of it.

After that, I never actively sought out an agent again. By the time my portfolio was strong enough to approach a serious agency, I just didn’t need representation anymore.

Hireillo

2019-2022

My experience with Hire an Illustrator, or Hireillo, is mixed. At the time, Hireillo was a platform that hosted artists' portfolios, featured artist-submitted news, provided useful articles, resources, and directories of artists and agents. I joined the site hoping to catch the eye of publishers, but I was mostly contacted by authors and one fellow artist for a graphic novel.

Unfortunately, most inquiries didn’t go beyond the first couple of messages due to budget constraints. I did, however, have fun sharing news about my painting process and projects I landed on my own, which were often featured by the website. Additionally, if I had questions about 'complicated' things like copyright, or just needed advice, I could ask the website’s owner and that was incredibly helpful.

Despite these benefits, I didn’t see any real results, which was a little disappointing. The subscription fee was also... odd, for lack of a better word. $5 per week. In the end I just couldn’t justify the cost, so I stopped using the website altogether.

Reedsy

2019-2022

Finally, we come to the turning point.

I remember stumbling upon Reedsy randomly. It wasn’t very well known at the time, and I think it still isn’t. I was nervous when I submitted my portfolio because their catalogue features the best of the best: designers who’ve created covers for bestsellers, THE bestsellers, people who’ve worked on Stephen King covers, or George R.R. Martin's. Designers, editors, and marketers who are veterans. I didn’t have high hopes for my application. So, I was in shock when it got accepted.

I had an introductory Skype call with a representative from Reedsy, who explained how everything worked. Before the call ended, I remember asking if there was a good chance I’d get work through the platform. The rep laughed and said, “Yes.”

A few weeks in, I understood that laugh.

Reedsy has an overwhelming demand for book covers and commercial projects. For every designer there are many more clients. In peak seasons, I was getting requests almost every day. I’m not exaggerating.

Reedsy transformed my portfolio and my pricing structure. Thanks to the income I earned through the platform, I was finally able not to take everything that came my way but be selective and choose only the projects that really interested me.

The commission process is simple: artists pretty much decide how to split payments, what to include in agreements, and the best part, the most beautiful and helpful feature of all, they can request and adjust deadlines. For someone like me who's terrible with deadlines, this feature was a lifesaver. The admins are also very kind and responsive, available via email or chat.

Unfortunately (this is my last 'unfortunately', I promise), my time on Reedsy came to an end for personal reasons. I’ll explain since it’s no secret.

All my images on Reedsy were watermarked with my signature (my full name), which apparently violated the platform’s rules. Why? Because if a client saw my last name, they could contact me directly and bypass Reedsy, which meant the platform lost potential fees. I’ll admit this did happen a few times, but I had the good sense to redirect the client back to Reedsy.

After three years, an admin finally noticed and asked me to remove my full name from the watermark and any text on my profile. It was a simple and reasonable request, but here’s where the problem started. Profiles on Reedsy are public, and images appear in search engines like Google Images, meaning anyone could download my work and use it without permission. Sure, watermarks can be removed, but uploading my work without one in the first place felt like a bad idea. Btw, not only do I use watermarks, but I also use Glaze to protect my illustrations before sharing them online.

Anyway, for this reason, and also because I couldn’t get over the fact that full names were public at the time, something I won’t get into because, believe me, I tried over email, and my reasons went into the void (now, last names are just initialised, like Gabrielle R. Okay. Sure.), I had to close my account–they would have done it anyway because it was already 'flagged'.

Overall, if you’re willing to overlook the last name conundrum, I can’t recommend Reedsy enough. If you have a killer, solid portfolio and a love for books and editorial projects, go for it!

--------------------------------------------

I hope you'll find this useful! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask (: Oh, and here's an old article I wrote in 2020, titled:

Tips to freelance illustrators to avoid being screwed over

Who knows, maybe I'll write another 'article' post in four years!

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[coryosbaby]

Can you give me something with barry from obx x innocent!reader and she's like rafe's little Sister and he like tells rafe that she needs to stay with him until he gets ALL his money plsss girls I'm deprived of my word porn 😫 ( Add some smut pleaseeeeeeee )

Honey <🧡 >

Barry (Outer Banks)/reader

Warning: slight dubcon, kidnapping, blackmail, mention of guns and drug use (reader gets high), slight age gap? But it’s not really important + the reader is of age // forced oral (m receiving), throatfucking, fingering, the word ‘bitch’ a lot, pussy slapping, p n v, dumbification, loss of virginity, sir kink, sub! Reader, dom! Barry

“Please let me go!”

Your voice is desperate, as Barry shoves you inside of his home. You almost trip over your Mary Jane platforms when your foot hits a step wrong, but Barry catches you with one of his strong arms and pulls you up.

“You know a deal’s a deal, sweet thing’.”

His voice has a slight southern drawl, and you squeak when he pushes you down onto the couch. “Now stay your ass right there.”

You don’t even know how you got into this situation. One minute you’re having drinks with a few friends from your private school, and then the next minute you’re getting dragged away by your brother’s drug dealer. You don’t know exactly what he means by deal. You had never made one with him.

You two had spoken a few times when he spent his time at the Cameron residence when everyone in your family besides you and Rafe were gone. Rafe, being the untrustworthy shit that he is, surprisingly doesn’t despise you like he does your other siblings. In fact, you’ve become his favorite and most important one.

But clearly not important enough, since he’s probably got you involved in his cocaine dealing stuff.

“Did Rafe…” you watch as Barry rummages around in his kitchen cabinets, clearly paying no mind as you speak. “Did Rafe make a deal with you? Or something? I-I have money, I have lot of it—“

“Thirty thousand?”

The number makes your eyebrows raise in surprise. Thirty thousand dollars.. for coke? A“few lines”, as Rafe had called it. Yeah right.

“I-I don’t—“

“Well until then, I’d advise you to keep that stupid little mouth shut.”

His demand scares you, a bit. In fact, this whole situation does. Barry had always been nice to you. Maybe a bit too nice, if anyone from outside the two of you saw the situation (Rafe certainly did). But regardless, you don’t know what’s going to happen if your brother doesn’t get that money.

Barry seems to finally find what he’s looking for inside a wooden drawer. When he pulls it out, it’s a gun.

Bile rises in your throat when you see the weapon, the safety off and, you assume, packed with bullets. He throws it down onto the table in front of you.

“See that?” He asks. You nod heavily, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Yes sir.”

You say it dumbly. You don’t know what else to say. Barry’s grin is wide when the words leave your lips.

“You try to run,” Barry starts. His tone shouldn’t be so tantalizing, but it is. “And I’ll use it. So don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

You nod, numb with fear. Barry picks up the gun and moves around the table to sit beside you. He’s exponentially close, his shoulder touching yours as he leans back against the fabric of the couch.

You don’t know what to do, really. What exactly are you supposed to do when your brother’s drug dealer is holding you for ransom? But you play with the hem of your skirt as Barry reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a bag of shiny white powder.

Your face scrunches up and you shiver. He uses his fingers to make a sloppy trail of cocaine on the hilt of the gun. You expect him to do the line he had created, but instead he just shrugs and stares at you for a moment with a glazed look.

“Why don’t you take some?“

You don’t think it’s a request. Your bottom lip catches in between your teeth. You sniffle.

“I don’t want to.”

“Cmon, now,” his tone is like honey but you can hear the threat. “Be a good girl.”

You look down at the drug, stark white against the metal of the shiny weapon and back to him, but you figure you have no choice. You just hope and pray that the addict gene didn’t make its way to you like it did Rafe as you press your nose against the gun. It’s right over Barry’s lap; if you weren’t so plagued with innocence, you would notice how close your face is to his aching prick as you peer over his lap. You jump when you feel the man’s hands twist themselves in your hair.

“Atta girl.”

The drug isn’t something you’re used to. You’re definitely not the type to drink, let alone do coke; but snorting it doesn’t seem as hard as you expected. Your brain is a little fuzzy once you lift your head up.

Barry puts the gun down on the table, and pours some more coke onto the glass in front of him. He snorts up a line, and lets out a low groan. And then he moves back and his hands move to your neck. He twists your strands of hair with two long fingers.

“You’re a pretty little thing, you know that?”

You flush. All the while your high begins to kick in, and you exhale shakily. Your thighs clench together, and you don’t really understand why. “T-Thank you..”

Barry chuckles. His lips are really close to your ear and you notice that he smells really nice. It’s making you a bit dizzy.

“Such good manners for such a good girl.” He praises. You gulp, the feeling of his hand suddenly on your leg making you jump. The man notices, and frowns. “Cmon now, sweetness. I don’t bite.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You squeak out. He grins, his fingers inching up higher to ghost over the inner part of your thighs.

“Think we can keep ourselves a little busy before your brother gets here, don’t you think?”

You nod, dumbly, as his fingers ghost over your Cherry print panties underneath your skirt. It’s a new sensation; you’ve never been touched like this. You’ve heard it’s what people that are married do, people that love and care for each other. You don’t think this is how you’re supposed to do it.

“W-Wait, Barry—“

But it’s too late now, because his fingers are rubbing your clit in slow, soft circles. You let out a tiny moan, your legs automatically parting against your own will. You can feel an ache bubbling up in your core, your little button starting to throb.

“You’re so wet, goddamn.”

It comes out low and throaty, and when you look down at Barry’s hand you can see that he’s palming his cock through his basketball shorts. You don’t know why, exactly, but your mouth begins to water as you watch the outline of him through the fabric.

“W-Wet?”

Barry breathes out a laugh at your innocence, giving a teasing flick to the bud by thumping it with his thumb and forefinger. You squirm, a small noise of pleasure rippling out of you.

“You’re cunt, darlin’.” He says. “It’s wet. Happens when you start thinking about dirty things.”

You frown as your wetness drips on his hand. “‘M not… ‘m not dirty! I swear!”

“I think you’re lyin’ to me… I think you are.“ His fingertip teasingly ghosts over your hole. “— but that’s okay. I like dirty girls.”

His middle finger sinks inside you to the hilt. You gasp, the sensation making your hips lift off the couch when he curls it. You moan, breathy.

“That— that feels good..”

“I know, angel. And you’re gonna take another one for me, aren’t ya?”

“I-“ you hesitate, but another swipe against your clit with Barry’s thumb has you keening against the couch. “Yeah! Yes, yes, anything, I’ll take anything!”

His forefinger slips in, next. It’s tight fit, but nothing you can’t handle. And when Barry puts you into a chokehold with one of his strong arms, he drags your body into his lap. His bulge hits your ass and you let out a mewl, his fingers never leaving you. His pace increases, his other hand moving from your throat to your skirt. He lifts it up and pulls your underwear to the side so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you.

“These panties are so cute,” he whispers into your ear. Your eyes roll back when your sopping wet cunt begins to make harsh gushing noises. “It’s too bad they’re getting ruined, huh?”

You nod, not a single thought left in your hazy brain. Your ruffle socked feet accidentally kick the table from the pleasure making your body spasm. You barely even acknowledge it, but Barry’s unused arm goes to your neck again and he holds down on each side of your throat.

“Don’t break my shit, bitch,” he growls. “You and your brother owe me enough already.”

“I-I’m sorry!” It comes out choked, scared, and dripping of pleasure all at once. His thumb moves to your clit again. You can feel something inside you building up, a wad of tension threatening to release. Your brows furrow in confusion and you become worried. What if Barry gets mad at you for feeling this way?

“S-Sir—“ your hole throbs mercilessly, face scrunched up. “Barry— think ‘m gonna.. gonna pee! S-Stop!”

“No you’re not, baby,” He chuckles. “You’re gonna cum— only good girls cum. So wet my fuckin shorts, dollface.”

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, all of your limbs seizing up with tension. Your mind becomes foggy, and you scream as you begin to squirt all over your panties and onto Barry’s thighs.

“That’s it, honey. Shit, look at you…”

You sob, overwhelmed from all the sensation flooding your psyche. You stay against Barry, the warmth of his body bringing you comfort as your eyes droop. But you know you can’t sleep yet; you won’t allow yourself to.

Barry presses a kiss to your neck, begins gesturing for you to get up. You move up on shaky legs. And as bad as it is, you frown when his body leaves yours.

“D-Did I do something wrong, sir?”

He doesn’t reply; he simply presses his lips to yours, harsh and full of want. His strong arms go around your waist and his fingers dance along the hem of your shirt. He moves the fabric up, and up, until your bra is the only thing left on your upper half. You let him do it.

He palms your breasts and you gasp at the sensation. You’ve always been a bit sensitive there.

“Take this off,” he says, gesturing to the cups holding your tits in place. You obey, shyly unclipping your bra and revealing your puffy nipples to him. His mouth goes down to suckle one of the buds into his mouth. He hums around it, scrapes his teeth against the sensitive nerves and then begins unzipping your skirt.

“Any guy ever touched you?” He asks, as your soaked panties become the only thing covering your body. You’re incredibly shy, now.

“No— no one has.”

“Good.” And then he’s taking your panties off, sliding them down your legs and leaving you completely in the nude. It’s invading, incredibly so, but your pussy begins to ache for another orgasm again.

“Sit back down.” Barry demands.

You obey and he sits down next to you. The material of the couch is cold against your skin as he grabs your hair and pulls you towards his body with a rough hand. You squirm, trying to find a position that makes you comfortable, and settling with facing him on your knees. He loosens the drawstring of his shorts as he looks down at you with lust glittering in his eyes. You aren’t sure where to put your hands, so you decide to rest one on Barry’s thigh and the other on the couch. He reaches into his now loosened shorts and pulls out his cock.

You gawk, the sight of a dick being an unfamiliar image to you. He’s girthy, perfectly thick and a bit long. Precum pearls at the head of him as he watches your pleading eyes. He grabs your hair, firm.

You gasp when he shoves your face against him. Your ass is up in the air now, your tits pressed flush against his thigh. His tip is wet against your cheek, smearing precum all over your nose and underneath your eyes.

“Feel that?” He purrs.

You nod, dazed. “Yeah..” your hand reaches to touch it, curiosity peaking your interest. “It’s— its really pretty.”

“Yeah?” He gathers a string of his pre onto his finger, brings it up to your face and rubs it teasingly against the opening of your lips while you busy yourself with playing with the base of him. “Get a taste, baby.”

Your face turns a deep cherry red as you shyly stick your tongue out. His arousal coats your tongue, and as disgusting as you feel you can’t help but love the taste of him.

“‘S good,” you murmur. “I— I wan’ more of it.”

“I bet you want my cum all inside, don’t you?”

Your bottom lip turns down and you cutely raise your eyebrows together. “What’s cum? You keep saying that…”

He laughs, genuinely laughs. Your stupidity is amusing to him.

“Dressing in all those short little skirts and lookin’ at me with those pouty lips and you still don’t understand what I’m saying? You really are dumb.”

You shake your head, the words “I’m not dumb” falling from your lips over and over as you lean down and lick up some more of his pre to satiate yourself. Barry’s tongue runs along his bottom lip as he watches you, a large hand going down to stroke your hair out of your face.

“Cum is the stuff that comes out when you get that really good feelin’. “ he explains. “You came earlier, so I bet that little pussy’s coated in it right now.”

You bite your lip, kitten licking his cock once more and then pulling back.

“I wanna make you cum.”

He grabs your hair and pulls you back down. “I know.”

You whine, and then he’s groaning and bucking his dripping length against your lips.

“God, I know that mouth is—“ he doesn’t even hesitate to find the opening of your mouth and slip his tip inside. The taste is odd to you, but not inherently unpleasant. He’s musky and you can smell the scent of his arousal radiating off of him. “—so goddamn good. Fuck yeah, that’s it.”

You moan around him, your mouth swallowing him up more as the weight of his aching prick makes you more and more turned on. You down him as much as you can, his girth making the corners of your glossed lips burn.

“Knew a little kook girl like you would be good at taking dick,” Barry drawls. His hips thrust against your intensely, heavy balls slapping against your chin and spit leaking down them from your gaping mouth. “Cock taste good, baby? Huh?”

The choked moan and the string of drool pooling out of your mouth and down your neck tells him all he needs to know. He chuckles. “Yeah, I bet it does. Drooling little bitch.”

You know he’s right. And as bad as it is, the humiliation that he’s bestowing upon you is pleasurable. Your wetness is dripping down your thighs at his words.

You moan, moving his hands off your head so you can move off of his cock and begin suckling his balls. He moans loud and his fingernails dig back into your scalp again. You’re desperate, desperate to feel his skin and his smell and his taste, and you’re whining while you lick his heavy sack with hard strokes of your tongue.

“God, such a sweet fuckin’ slut. You’re doin’ so good.”

You whimper, downing his cock again and gurgling around him. Your pussy is soaked, and you try to move it around on the material of the couch to get friction. Barry grins when he sees your desperation.

“Needa cum?”

You pull off of him with a pop, eyes looking up at him pleadingly. “Yes sir.”

His fingers touch your swollen clit. Teasingly, just to see you squirm as he shoves his cock in your mouth again. And when he begins to rub harshly, you begin to buck your hips against him. Your second orgasm is already nearing, and when it happens you shake and choke around his length. He gives your pussy a light slap and yanks you off of him. Your mascara is smeared, lipstick staining the edges of your mouth and your hair stuck to your forehead in messy strands. Barry pulls you up to give you another kiss. And then he pulls you onto his lap again.

And in the midst of your lips on his, you hear his phone ring.

It’s on the nightstand next to the couch. An easy reach for him, and as he grabs the phone you see the words ‘COUNTRY CLUB’ flash across the screen in bold white letters.

Your eyes widen, shaking your head as Barry chuckles out, “damn, sweetness. It’s your brother.”

“Please… d-don’t let him—“ you cry, exasperated, as Barry presses his bare cock to your entrance. “Don’t let him know what I did— please! He’ll be so mad at me…”

The older man grins as he holds you down onto his cock; not quite in just yet, but it makes you quiver thinking about him stretching you out. He mocks you with a bullying tone.

“Aww, don’t worry honey.” He coos. “I won’t tell your big brother you’ve been a bad girl. Just let me pick up this call.”

Relief almost washes over you, if it wasn’t for the fact that Barry is still pressed flush against you. It’s making it hard for you to concentrate. He presses the green button, signaling that he’s answered the call.

“Where is she?”

Rafe’s voice sounds on the other line, and he’s extremely pissed.

“Perfectly fine, country club. In fact, I think she’s having the time of her life right now” Barry quips, as if you’re not dripping down his cock with a look of shame on your face. “I just need my money..”

He pauses, watching as your eyes furrow closed and you begin to move against him. You’re lost in your own pleasure now. You can’t help it. The sensation of his cock rubbing against your clit has you clenching and aching to release. You bury your face in his neck, trying to contain your whimpers.

“Look, man,” Rafe starts. He doesn’t like the way those words spewed from Barry’s lips. It makes him uneasy.

“I’ll— I’ll get your money, okay? Just— promise me you won’t hurt her. Please.”

“Oh,” Barry lets out a laugh. “We’re far from that.”

He lifts your hips with one of his hands. His tip begins to probe your entrance. You gasp as your walls sink down on him.

“In fact, I think I can drown out your little debt and set you up for another month.”

[anxresi]

She's already been punished enough...

...By being part of one the worst shows of all time, dufus.

A few points here, in the order of the OP presented their dubious 'case' (though I suspect this isn't actually how they feel and this is a somewhat disingenuous attempt was to provoke a reaction from a lot of others when they sent this to Reddit, in which case... JOB DONE).

1. Bullying, as bad as it can be, is not a jailable offence. especially the relative mild incidences we've seen in the show (up till S4 that is, which we'll get to later) Next.

2. As every right-minded person knows, this is 'New Chloe' e.g Chloe specifically created by Mr Astruc for the S3 finale onwards which bears no relation to 'Old Chloe'. 'Old Chloe' actually had personality, layers, humanity, humour, was a great super-anti-hero, the stirrings of redemption in her.... 'New Chloe' is just an out-and-out psychopath with no depth to her whatsoever apart from to be as ineptly evil as possible and increasingly embarrass herself with every tortuous appearance so Thomas can get his sick jollies, so this doesn't count. Sorry.

3. See: 2. Also, Zoe shouldn't exist... so, there's that. If you want to know why, please see my other posts... as I am saving up all my ire for something far more important as you'll find out below...

4. Now this is the one that REALLY boils my piss. How can I put this politely... Fuck off, you fucking cunt. Chloe's fucking father ENABLED her fucking behavior for fucking years by fucking throwing his money at the fucking problem instead of paying for the fucking psychological help she clearly fucking well needed and fucking IGNORED everything when her fucking mother regularly left Chloe alone, told her she was fucking worthless, didn't bother celebrating her fucking birthdays, forgot her fucking name time and time again...

I could go on. And you're telling me Andre is the FUCKING victim instead of Chloe, this FUCKING corrupt mayor. this FUCKING waste of space, this FUCKING pathetic excuse of a man who as her FUCKING FATHER could've put his FUCKING foot down at any FUCKING time and simply said "No?" What kind of a fucking 'mature' adult is he, anyway?! I suppose the OP also thinks fucking Gabriel deserved his fucking statue as well, in fact they should've hung fucking garlands of flowers from it whilst someone played fucking panpipes and everybody else fucking danced around. Fuck you.

Also worth noting here that Chloe fucking ADORED her father until the exceedingly unwelcome S4 'reboot' where she suddenly saw him as a fucking walking piggy bank (I won't even mention how they purposefully ruined her relations with Adrien, Sabrina, even her own butler... Chloe can't have any happiness in her life. It simply ISN'T ALLOWED).

Then they have the cheek to let his daughter be 'disowned' by him in the S5 finale and banished to London as if he fucking did nothing wrong in facilitating her attitude whilst failing to defend her against her despicable mother's abuse. (Yes, I said ABUSE I know the creator doesn't view it as such, but he's a fucking moron so what can you do?) Bullshit. Complete and utter undiluted diarrhea dripping from a bull's anal sac... that's what this is. I hope I painted an accurate picture for all of you. Sorry if you were eating.

So, it was supposably a happy ending that Andre got to fucking adopt another man's child without any reprecussions for his past actions, as he embarked on his new career as a fucking film director. What? You think that wasn't ENOUGH punishment for Chloe, OP? You think she should go to fucking jail as well, for DARING to be a child victim of incessant abuse, both in-canon and in-writing? I never thought I'd meet a person who's more radicalised in their blind hatred of Chloe than fucking Mr Astruc, but here we are. I tell you, some people on this exploding planet of ours scare me. Legit.

5. See 2 again. This huge disparity in writing between the two Chloes is getting stupid now, and anyone who can't see the contrast between now and then... I really can't help you. Either take off your Chloe-hating goggles to smell the coffee, or go read someone that agrees with you 100% and won't pop your tiny safe-space bubble with indisputable facts. Goodbye.

6. I think Chloe is more 14... but it doesn't really matter. Still a child, still should be treated as one. Which makes Astruc's obsessive loathing of her even more disturbing... and even more so this dude's.

That's it. This was probably an entirely unnecessary pot-pourri of hot topics I've regurgitated before, but as soon as I saw this article (particularly Pic 4) I just had to jump on my soapbox once more to regale the world about the kind of arrant nonsense I see about Chloe sometimes online, particularly regarding the subject of parental abuse and whether her treatment by the show's narrative was justified (SPOILER: It wasn't, and if you disagree I need you to fuck off RIGHT NOW).

Because if people like me don't defend her and the terrible writing she's been subjected to for the last few seasons (at least she's in good company there though), who will?

Not the person who made her, that's for sure. She may be a fictional character but... I get the feel her situation is similar to a lot of other neglected and mistreated kids out there who lash out at others for obvious reasons. And by handling her arc (if you can even call it that) in this inexcusable way... I don't just think the show has just done her a disservice. I think they've outright destroyed her and the hopes of many others watching.

What a great message to send to every youngster who could relate. I hope the makers are proud of themselves. Fucking idiots.

[fatphobiabusters]

"I don't believe that fat people deserve basic human needs like love, food, or clothes. I think fat people are automatically ugly because I grew up only seeing thin people treated as beautiful in media and society. Because fat people aren't fuckable to me, I tell them to kill themselves and call them ob*se pigs. Which reminds me, the term the medical field uses for fat people, I actually treat it as a slur. I also treat the word 'fat,' the most basic term for a specific human body type, as a taboo insult that you should never, ever call someone. Unless you want to call them ugly or worthless, which I treat 'fat' as a synonym for. I give fat disabled people judging looks because how dare any fat people be disabled. I think fat people should be forced to pay more taxes and to park as far away from a building as possible to force these fat asses to walk. There's countless insulting euphemisms for fat people: fat ass, lard ass, butter ball, diabetty. Oh, that reminds me! I also believe I know the medical records of all fat people and use that to call the over 2 billion fat people on this Earth the dirt underneath my feet. I associate different diseases with fat people, who I hate, so I also put stigma on those diseases. I think it's okay for fat people to pay extra for clothing despite me being a size medium and not having to pay more than people who wear a size extra small. I mock fat people for dancing, walking, running, eating, exercising, swimming, existing, and even breathing! Literally! I laugh when a fat person breathes heavy for even a single second after they walk up a flight of stairs! I support and buy all of the diet culture products that make money off of fat people being viewed as scum. I once saw a fat person on the news talking about how she was enduring food insecurity, and I laughed for a full minute because obviously that fat woman is nothing but the stereotypes I support about fat people and actually overeats. I secretly have a thing for fat women, but I would never dare actually date a fat woman or be with a fat woman in public. That's why I fuck her in private and then pretend she doesn't exist. Whenever I create a character and want to make people know that the character is bad in some way, I make the character fat. I help bully fat people whenever I can. I not only make jokes when fat people die, I also assume every fat person died because they're fat and tell random fat strangers on the internet that they're going to die at age 35. I freely harass fat people because I know not a single person on this Earth will defend them from me, not even progressive people. But no, fat people definitely aren't oppressed. Stop kidding."

How every fatphobic asshole sounds when they tell me fat people aren't oppressed.

-Mod Worthy

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Catwoman's new sidekick (dc x dp)

This is very loosely inspired by this prompt. Enjoy the blurb:)

Danny didn’t really like guns. Not the ecto-weapons his parents made, but the actual bullet-filled guns. He knew how to use them, as that was what his parents had based themselves off of to create their own ectoplasm-powered version of it, but he didn’t like them. So when he’d found one not only loaded, but with the safety off in his apartment’s garbage bin, he’d plan to take it and go throw it in the river to make sure nobody would get to use it. Danny wasn’t exactly shocked to see it, this was Gotham after all, but it was a bit of a nasty surprise to say the least. It wasn’t like it could really hurt him anymore, it seemed halfas had a sort of built-in instinct for going intangible (which had explained why the Nasty-Burger-explosion-that-never-happened hadn’t affected him despite being taken completely by surprise).

Not to mention he was already in a bad mood at the news that Vlad was in the city right now for some rich guy nonsense, which Danny was 100% sure meant the fruitloop was going to come by to bother him at some point in the next few days.

“Hello, Daniel,” came Vlad’s voice from behind him as if summoned.

“Get away from me, you creep,” Danny answered, not turning around. Instead, he started walking in the opposite direction.

“Is that anyway to talk to your unckie Vlad?” The man said with his smarmy tone. “And I came by such a long way to come see you.”

“You saw me, now you can leave.” Danny didn’t bother turning his head as Vlad caught up so they were walking side by side.

The billionaire tsked as he looked around. “It’s such a shame you live in such a poor neighbourhood. You know the offer to pay for your tuition is still open.”

“Not in a million years,” Danny answered dryly.

“You’re just as stubborn as my dear Madeleine used to be,” Vlad sighed and Danny felt the disgust twist his features into a grimace.

“Still being a creepy disgusting old loner, Vlad?” Danny snarked. “How many cats are you on, number 5?”

There was flash of anger in the older man’s eye before he smirked. “And how is dear Danielle these days, it’s been so long since she came by. I think she’ll be due for another meltdown soon.”

On impulse, Danny raised the gun, knowing full well the man would go intangible faster than any bullet and pointed it at Vlad. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

“Oh please, Daniel,” Vlad scoffed. “What are you going to do, shoot me?”

“Maybe,” Danny retorted.

“It wouldn’t change anything,” Vlad dismissed.

“Might make me feel better,” Danny said even as he lowered the gun a bit, knowing it wouldn’t do anything.

Vlad knew this just as well, and he sneered before turning his back to Danny and walking away with a parting shot. “I always get what I want, Daniel. Whether it’s through you or her.”

The gun that Danny had lowered slightly now came back up. He was so tempted to empty the stupid thing at Vlad, no matter if it would all pass through him. Before he could do anything though, a voice from above sounded.

“He’s not worth it, kid.”

Danny looked up to find the masked face of Catwoman peering down on him.

“He deserves worse than this,” Danny said, mind still on the temptation of shooting at Vlad’s intangible back. This was a deserted part of the city, it wasn’t like it would hurt anyone else.

“I promise there are better ways to make him pay,” Catwoman answered.

Danny scoffed bitterly. “Vlad’s so rich, he can pay off anyone and cover up any scandal I could think of.” And if money didn’t work, there was always straight-up overshadowing innocent bystanders.

The masked woman hesitated for a while before she called down determinately. “Look, get rid of the gun, and I promise I’ll help you make him pay.”

“Really?” Danny wasn’t too sure what that entailed but anything that would hinder Vlad was a go for him. “You promise?”

“I do,” she stated with conviction. “But you have to lose the gun.”

“Yeah, ok,” Danny said. He was going to do it anyways, but if she wanted it gone even faster, Danny wasn’t going to argue.

Selina watched as her new sidekick dropped off the gun into the river. It fell in with a splash that had something in her curling comfortably. Maybe Bruce was really rubbing off on her if she was picking up strays

But, Selina had a good feeling about this. Talking a kid out of murder had been how Batman had gotten his first Robin, after all.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König is Naturally Nerd!König

A lot of people suggest nerd!König (which is essentially regular König in my books) would be into DnD, or Star Wars, or Lego, but I disagree.

Normal and Nerd!König are obsessed with miniature armies. He has little models of airplanes and tanks that he puts on display in his room. He only has two World War models (and even then it's WW1), and those are the planes that Baron von Richthofen flew. Otherwise, he collects medieval minis and paints them.

He creates whole dioramas of them, and they're surprisingly good. He has the money to sink into his hobby, and it fills his time when he's not at work. He fidgets a lot, but he's gotten good at doing fine detail work. They're not award winning, but they're really quite good.

In addition, he's a major reader. If you want to know more about what König reads, check out this post here. If you don't want to read it, the gist of it is that König loves reading and reads all the time. He's probably the type to sniff and say the book was better than the movie. He's right, but he doesn't need to be so snobby about it.

Through the military, he has an extensive knife and gun collection. He can use all of them, sure, but he really doesn't need that many. He used to have only one room dedicated to them, but he's since had to move twice and torn down a wall most recently to make a big enough room for everything. He kinda sucks that way. He really takes up a lot of space.

However, Nerd!König didn't end up joining the military. He instead went into nuclear engineering and earned an excellent living to fund his expensive hobbies. He also ended up having more time to devote to his crafts, which led to...

More under the cut.

Nerd!König is a Snob

König is a pathfinder 2e type of guy. He's that pedantic. He'll have the rule books memorized, and he has links to download the pdfs ready at the flick of a wrist. He's ready to convert you. Your DnD supplies will be absorbed into his Pathfinder 2E.

A big reason he's into Pathfinder 2E is because he was introduced at a young age and so collected the supplies, but when he heard about the Wizards of the Coast scandals he decided he'd use that as his reasoning. He gets up on a soapbox about it whenever he can. He really, really hates Wizards of the Coast. It's a firey rage that burns within.

He also likes Warhammer. He's a disgusting Warhammer lover. He plays a ridiculous Adeptus Mechanicus army that he's painted himself. It's surprisingly good painting, too. Having painted Adeptus Mech before, I'm telling you it's really hard. He makes it looks easy with craft paint and crazy glue. He's disgustingly good at it. I hate him for it. How dare he be so good. He is genuinely a fantastic painter. That said, we saw what happened with the last Austrian painter, so maybe it's a good thing he stuck to painting minis.

Nerd!König also loves to collect ancient weaponry. To make it worse, he actually practises with it and has become pretty decent with it. He's feared among the LARPing community because he's known to be a fearsome competitor. He'd be more well liked if he didn't accidentally break people's wooden shields so often. As it is, he's not fully blacklisted, but he's skating on thin ice. He'd be banned for sure if it weren't for the fact that the forest on his property is amazing for LARPing.

Finally, he's into Renaissance fairs. He goes and does public sword fighting, once again, LARPing. He'll also show off his weaponry collections, and will gladly go on hour long spiels to anyone unfortunate to ask about the history of an item on his table. He is on good terms with the blacksmiths, and he's always having to pay the local seamstress to fix his clothing back in the traditional style. He will also go up to the ferret keeper and play with their ferrets, and then beg you to get some. He just wants a cute little ferret. Can't he have a couple? No, not one! They need playmates. You need at least three.

Either way, Nerd!König is a big silly guy. He's a bit friendlier and gentler than regular König honestly. He also is super passionate about his hobbies. He's so excited to show you his hobbies, and he really wants you to enjoy them too.

Just so you know, all these hobbies are expensive. Very expensive. It's a good thing he's making so much money, because otherwise you'd go bankrupt overnight, because, "Games Workshop released a new edition of the walkers! I need them for my army!"

[drunkwhenimadethis]

I was confessing my absurd fears to my bf with things along the lines of being betrayed or him finding other women sexually attractive and asked if he had any similar fears. He said he did, and it was that I was only with him for his money. Essentially: I am a gold digger. I have always refused monetary gifts and him paying for things. However I’ve been staying with him for three months after he got me kicked out of my last rooming house because Im in college and couldn’t find a place quick enough, and was extremely adamant about it but he insisted. We’ve been together for almost a year. He said that the thought of me using him for money is recurring, but he’s unemployed and his parents pay for everything besides his groceries. What do I make of this? It’s really offput me that he thinks of me this way

Disclaimer I love to remember that the English “advice” comes from the Latin “videre” to see so if I give you this advice it is not a prescription, it is only my way of looking at things in this moment

I think one thing I would like to point out is that you wrote: “It was that I was only with him for his money. Essentially: I am a gold digger.” There are a million ways of interpreting a single statement made by someone that we care about, and since so much of life creation begins with storytelling in the mind, you want to be quite meticulous about the interpretations that you align with and carry forward. I don’t think that “Essentially: I am a gold digger” makes the most sense logically nor in terms of experiencing what you want, which I assume is love, commitment, trust, and closeness

Why essentially are you a gold digger? Did he say that or did he say that he has an absurd fear that you might be with him for reasons other than who he himself is? “Money” —the word—and its associations make us react emotionally and indignantly “How dare you!!!!” but he said the same thing that you said, he shared the fear he has that maybe he alone is not enough for you

When you shared that you’re fearful of him being attracted to other women, did he say that essentially you are calling him a dishonest whore with no dick discipline? Would that make sense to you if he reacted that way or would you feel like hmm, this man is really making my fears about himself?

Your fears are yours and yours alone

I am guilty of wanting the perfect words or actions to assuage me but it never works out that way. You need to go into yourself and pour love on your fears and kill them

He can tell you everything you want to hear and then what happens when he’s out of sight?

What happens if he has to leave the country? What happens if you can’t have eyes on him?

Are we doomed to constantly revert back to fear?

See yourself as the only one 

Don’t entertain competition in your mind

Don’t dwell on these fears. Your subconscious can’t reason with you

Remove the negative imaginary conversations—not only are they a waste of time, they are by nature of reality active forces 

Be happy for him that his family takes care of him, not everyone gets that and it’s good

Imagine he will take care of you like his family taught him to. Imagine sturdiness and dependability. Imagine better than what you know

Wish him the best on his job search, remove safety-seeking in the form of judgment

You are deserving and you’re allowed to accept gifts from your boyfriend. Work on this asap, I think there's something in you that just doesn't feel worth it and you can't outrun that and nobody can appease that for long

And don't tell yourself that he got you kicked out of your last rooming house, even if it seems true. If you can choose any belief and create life with it, since you’re creating even when you’re not consciously aware that you’re doing so, why don’t you choose something that serves you both more? Why not tell yourself that the universe is conspiring to bring you closer to each other?

Loving and fearless! Avanti!

“The beautiful idea you awaken in yourself shall not fail to arouse its affinity in others.”

[octuscle]

Cursed Ken, part 1: Kemal, the janitor

There was a lot at stake for Patrick. Actually, it was about everything. He had invested an incredible amount of time and money in preparing for this appointment. He had to be successful. And he would be successful. His idea was brilliant. His preparation was excellent. He took a deep breath. The projector projected the image of a young athletic man onto the wall. The young man was obviously a janitor or something. The young man was made of plastic. And a small army of young athletic men made of plastic, one of whom was currently having an image projected onto the wall, stood on the table in front of Patrick.

"Gentlemen, the Barbie movie gives your product a tailwind that will open up completely new markets. Barbie and Ken have become socially acceptable. And I'm convinced that this offers unimagined opportunities for marketing Ken in particular"

It seems to be going well. The Head of Product Management reached for the janitor. And turned it in his hand.

"Whereas in the past, gay men never dared to buy a Ken doll without lying about it being for their little niece, today hundreds of thousands of customers with purchasing power can imagine having a Ken doll on the shelf in their bedroom. But these customers also need Kens that serve stereotypes other than the Malibu boy."

A young man, who looked a bit like Malibu Ken himself, smiled as he reached for the doll, which was dressed like a British redneck. Only in pink. It went really well!

"As well as new Kens, which cover current popular gay fetishes, we should also take into account the fact that Barbie is now a manager or a lawyer. So Ken should also be allowed to be a janitor or a garbage man. Especially as this also appeals to potential customers' fetishes."

A member of the controlling department took the figure of the soccer player in his hand. Patrick seized the opportunity immediately. He switched to the foil with the Germanic-looking Ken, who was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and had tattoos on one arm and one leg.

"With the European Football Championship in Germany this year, we have a major event that we can also exploit without paying license fees. We can place footballers, soccer fans and, as the epitome of masculinity, soccer hooligans. Everything that has to do with soccer this year…".

The head of product management cleared his throat. "May I interrupt for a moment?" he asked. Patrick nodded at him with a winning smile. "If you want my opinion, pack up your gay shit right now and leave the building. I didn't want this movie and I hate it. And the reason is that I feared excesses like this. I don't want a Ken who dresses like a faggot or a right-wing hooligan. For fuck's sake, does the prototype bodybuilder actually have steroid acne on his shoulders? Nobody wants to see that. And I certainly don't want to see it. Thank you for your efforts. But please leave. Go quickly and go far!"

Patrick stood open-mouthed in front of the screen with his presentation for a few seconds. Then he packed up without a word. He stuffed his artistically created dolls into a bag, put the computer in his laptop bag and left the room. He was on the verge of tears. He stuffed the bag with the dolls into the nearest garbage can. And then he left the building. Let Ken and Barbie choke you to death. Let them die of their fantasies. Anyone who even looked at Ken should become his fucking brainless image. How could he have thought he could make his fortune with these fucking figures? Never again!

There was an awkward silence in the meeting room. Not everyone present shared their boss's opinion. But no one dared to disagree. The two lucky ones who had a figurine in their hands discreetly slipped it into their jacket pocket. The head of product management took the janitor's Ken, stood up and said that he wanted to discuss this perversity with the legal department tomorrow.

It was mid-June. It didn't get dark until very late. Maybe that's why he hadn't even noticed how late it was. It was definitely time to call it a day. Where had that damn doll gone? He had it here on his desk… It was just too late, he was tired. But before he left, he had to go to the toilet. Damn it, he had to add toilet paper. And empty the garbage can. The snobs who were allowed to use the boardroom toilet often behaved like the ultimate barbarians. But it felt good to piss here. He would never get the privilege of doing it officially. But at this time of day? Who was going to forbid him?

The cleaning crew wouldn't be here for a few hours. He wiped over the urinals and washbasins with a few used paper towels. It was time to call it a day. But on the way out he could empty a few of the garbage cans along the way. Normally, he didn't pay attention to the contents of the garbage cans. Mostly boring papers. He assumed that the important stuff went into the shredding containers. There was something in one of the garbage cans on the conference floor that didn't belong there. Dolls. Various dolls that looked like Ken. In cool clothes. He'd never seen them like that before. Who threw something like that away? He packed it up once. It couldn't do any harm. Maybe he could sell the dolls…

Yes, he didn't have much to do with the blond Ken who stuck his mop in a pink cleaning bucket. But Kemal had even less to do with the powerful head of product management. He didn't want to deal with that kind of shit. He was here to service the air conditioning, replace light bulbs and sometimes fix faults in the elevator. It was a shitty job. But someone had to do it.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

@ doting husband Bruce I vote scare the parents. Go ham. Scare the shit out of them so they'll never bother her again. I support this course of action.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Be prepared to call the police," he said calmly. "This might get messy."

"Sir-"

"I will not have my wife uncomfortable in her own home. And I won't have her spoken to like that. By anyone."

"I wasn't going to tell you not to," he sniffed, "I was going to ask where I might find Mrs. Wayne now."

"With Dick. They're in the kitchen... It was furthest away from here."

"A woman of incredible judgment," Alfred said exhaling slowly. You'd told Dick that they wouldn't be back for a long time- and to a little boy, a week might qualify. But, if it didn't the fact that you were with him might keep him from worrying. or thinking that you couldn't keep your word. He was given to understand you'd been working very hard to gain that trust. And he turned to go and find you- and make sure that the pair of you weren't making too much of a mess.

______________

"Where is our daughter-"

"Enough," Bruce barked. Waving their words away with an impetuous gesture. Ignoring the impending hysterics from your mother playing the wounded martyr and the bluff and bluster from your father.

He'd had a week to do his homework. And you weren't the only one that knew how to find what you needed in this house. And what he found only made this easier. A week ago, when you'd sobbed against his chest, he'd been willing to stay out of it. He'd been willing to back whatever play you were going to make- trusting you to protect Dick.

But, when he'd leaned against a door and skeletons had fallen out. Well. That changed things.

"Step foot on this property, come to her office, call her phone, email her- send a carrier pigeon for christ's sake and I will expose every. single. thing. You've ever done."

"We've never-"

"Tax evasion. Stealing your daughter's identity to take out lines of credit... No wonder her interest rates for her loans were so high. Taking money from her to pay for bills and home repair and spending it at the casinos?"

"How dare-"

"Try me. I'll create a legal snarl even Y/N can't get you out of. Just be thankful she's a kinder person than I am. She could have taken you to court at any time for damages of somewhere over 30 grand."

"Can we at least talk to-"

"If she ever decides to speak to you again I won't stop her. But no. You won't be speaking with her today. She's spending time with our son."

He's not-"

"You can leave of your own accord or I'll be happy to call the police. I'm given to understand that both Harvey Dent, the DA and Police Commissioner Gordon both find my wife delightful."

And Bruce would be lying if it were not incredibly satisfying to watch them slink out. And he was glad he didn't have to expose worse things. He didn't want to prod at wounds you hadn't exposed to him yourself.

"Well done, Sir," Alfred said, drying his hands on a tea towel.

"Thank you, Alfred- how are-"

"Thick as thieves and making a devil of a mess," Alfred said, less irritated than he might be otherwise. Dick was completely unaware and for the first time in a week, you looked like yourself again.

[couchpotatoaniki]

An Annoying Kind of Pretty

Pairing: College Rival!Jungkook x College!Reader (British college, so basically senior year in highschool--they're 18) Word count: 4k+ Tags: mega fluff, light swearing, mentions of very mild violence (banter...maybe), mentions of clowns, reader is terrified of them, honestly, just cute shit, and they're being idiots A/N: I'm in the middle of reading Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert and this just sprung to mind soooooooo yeah

No matter how much you scrub, you can't get this darn plate clean. At this point, you're ready to smash it to pieces so you don't have to spend another second on it. But, alas, this is not your dish and therefore dish-smashing rights are revoked. A true travesty, considering how ugly the damn thing looks anyway. Society would be better off without it.

But you scrub, scrub, scr--"Are you done?" A deep voice rumbles behind you. Involuntarily, your eyes close to hide the annoyance flickering through them, lest he somehow sees through the obscured reflection of the kitchen window. This time you've spent together has taught you he's almost decent at guessing body language (almost--he's still otherwise a useless male).

Gosh, if only you could destroy the plate and take a shard to one of his annoyingly pretty brown eyes. Honestly, the fact that a man like him has such wonderful features is what you'd consider to be a crime that nature has committed.

"What does it look like?" Yeah, maybe you should relax your jaw before your teeth grind to dust. Your dentist would have a heartattack if she saw the stress they've put them under lately (she likes to talk about them like they're some separate entity, a bit odd but she's sweet and likes to rant about her cats so you can happily bare it).

"Looks like you're slacking off."

Excuse me? "Maybe I'd be more efficient if you didn't leave your dishes to grow a mini ecosystem in your kitchen. You're likely worshiped as a god by bacteria since you created them their own little world."

He rolls his eyes. This you can't see through the haze of his reflection on the slightly filthy window but you've somehow grown accustomed to his mannerisms. Like a shitty superpower.

"Don't be so dra--"

"If you dare say 'dramatic', the next thing I'll be cleaning are your insides off the floor and countertops."

His reflection raises a hand in mock surrender. "Touché. But for your information, I don't live here."

This makes you turn around, pinning him with a glare. "If you don't live here, which ogre or troll does?"

"My brother. But he's been... ah, what's the word--" he waves his hand in a circular motion with his eyes closed, only to open again at the snap of his fingers--"backpacking across mainland Europe for past three months."

A huff leaves your nose as you return to the gruelling task at hand. You're going to need a shower after this, maybe two, just to make sure you don't catch the Black Plague or some other disease that would trigger another pandemic. "Then why am I here?"

"Because you owe me, remember?"

"Yes, you--not your brother that can't even remember to put away his dishes before he goes on stupidly basic holidays."

"'Stupidly basic'?" Jungkook's frame hobbles into the corner of your eye as he mocks you with a smirk. Darn him and his unusually large (and unfortunately well sculpted) build. A disgustingly natural beauty that demands attention, but you'd rather poke your eye repeatedly than admit that to him lest his cocky smirk and big head grow more than it already has.

Yet, you can't help a glance in his direction. Props to you though, your face managed to not betray your soul and remained in it's usual disinterested state.

"If I had a penny for every time I've heard someone backpacking across Europe, I'd be so rich I wouldn't have to pay you back with my services."

"Considering you sprained my wrist and my ankle, I'd request both payment in money and services."

The thought of the Incidents sent and involuntary shudder down your spine. About two weeks ago, you were minding your own business in the library, one thing led to another and long story short, you accidently pushed the usually well-balanced hulking man onto the hardwood floor and his hand landed at a funky angle. Less than 72 hours had passed and various shenanigans ensued involving 12 glue sticks, streamers, a helium tank, and an unwanted clown roaming the gymnasium which led to his second trip to Accident and Emergency.

In all fairness, he shouldn't have even been there helping to set up the farewell assembly for the final years in the first place. His fault, really, but he wouldn't hear of it since you did crash into him as you were running away from a definite (maybe) psycho killer.

"How many times do I have to apologise," you huff.

His finger taps his chin in mock thought. "Preferably forever, seeing as though I am having to limit my activities while it's the summer holidays before we go off to uni. But I suppose having you as my little servant until I get better is decent enough."

You send him another glare before carrying on. Almost spotless, this dish. "This is abuse of power."

He raised his cast as well as a deadpanned expression onto his face. "And this was just regular abuse."

"It was self-defence."

"Against me or the very innocent clown you claimed was 'chasing' you?"

"Both. And he was chasing me. I was terrified."

"Remind me when your birthday is?"

"Why?"

"No particular reason. Certainly not a clown-related one for retaliation. None whatsoever."

Your head turns so quickly to him that it almost gives you whiplash. "You dare."

"We'll just have to see."

Huffing, you finish up the last of the dishes, with Jungkook sat on the countertop beside yours (with a bit of difficulty). Guilt begins to bleed out of your heart and pool into a warmth in your cheeks as you once more mumble an apology to him, the dishes suddenly looking more appealing for your eyes to land on. "I... I really am sorry, though."

He sighs--as he usually does when you once more feel horrible about the state he is in and try to voice it. "Stop that."

For the millionth time, you purse your lips, ready to let a few beats of silence pass before you could say something to return it back to that annoyingly fun hateful banter than the heavy and suffocating air that follows an apology. Jungkook, however, did not care for your mental plans (you don't really think he cares about much of anything besides his grades, friends, and snacks like a typical man).

"Can I... admit something to you? So, like, Truce?"

"...Truce." You reach out for a cloth to wipe anything left on the countertop, but ears keenly remained on him.

"I'm kinda... glad you fucked up my arm." You send him an incredulous look, to which he blurts in response, "don't get me wrong, it hurts like shit and I'm no masochist, but having you here doing my bidding--" his lips quirked at the sight of you murderous glare, "--and keeping me company is... nice."

"...'Nice'." The word feels funny to your ears as you hear it, and even funnier when you speak it.

"Yes, nice." His feet swing a little, his head hanging a little sheepishly. "My friends are cool and all, but you're, like, really fun to piss off." Okay, you might actually end up killing him. "And we don't really hang out all that often during the holidays. Plus, you've got a different vibe to you that I think is... nice--" There's that fucking word again, how on earth did he get higher marks than you in English? "--and my parents work a lot regardless so having you as company is, I suppose, ni--"

"Get a grip, dude." Your eyes roll by themselves. "You're rambling."

His lips pout and his cheeks puff to make a ridiculous (yet adorable) face of a child being lightly scolded for no reason. "You said Truce."

"I'm hearing you out, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but you're still being mean."

"Boo-hoo." He look up at you and his narrowed eyes make you retract your statement. "I mean, sorry. Carry on."

"That's it."

"What's 'it'?"

"The thing I wanted to tell you."

"What thing?"

"You know...the thing."

"You spewed a lot of crap in that short frame of time, I truly have no idea what you're talking about."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed once more, this time in suspicion. "You know exactly what I mean."

"No I don't." It's pitiful to say that your face is losing the battle to keep your smile away, which ultimately makes him gasp and point accusingly towards you.

"Yes, you do, you egg."

"Going for the Shakespearean insults? Wow, I must've really ticked you off," you laugh.

Lucky for you, the nearest thing to him was an almost-finished kitchen roll, otherwise he would've landed you in A&E too from his well-aimed throw to your forearm.

"I'm trying to be sincere." His voice is at that whiney pitch he uses when he's frustrated but not enough to care about it. He tends to only use it around his friends, but the more hellish (a potential exaggeration) time you spend with each other, the easier it slips out of him.

"Stop saying 'nice' like someone's pulling it out of your arse and not in a fun way."

"Well, what else am I supposed to say?! That I think your wonderful and funny and interesting and I like it when we spend time together!"

You try not to let the admission show up in your expression, not when it's making your heart race a mile a minute. "I mean, yeah. Don't stop on my account, keep telling me how you think I'm the most amazing person on the planet and you worship the ground I walk on, please."

He rolls his eyes and smiles in that adorable shy why which tells you that he knows exactly what you're trying to do and appreciates the way you relieve the tension. "Jesus, even when you take the piss out of me you still say 'please' in a way that makes me want to..." he trails off, then sighs. "Nevermind, ignore me."

Oh no, you're not going to let it go that easily. "Hard to do when your pig-headed ego takes up half the room." You take your gloves off--making a mental note to burn them in the incinerator for all they've had to deal with today (it's a mercy, really)--and turn towards him to give your full undivided attention. As if that would make it any easier for him to speak. "Go on, please."

He rolls his eyes again, trying even harder to hide his smile but it's fails just as easily. "Stop it."

"Stop what? Could you tell me, please?" Your head cocks to the side and your eyes challenge him in a teasing sort of way.

"God fucking damnit, Y/N. I don't know how I'm going to survive uni with you," he laughs, but the way he looks back at you feels a little too fond.

It takes a second to process what he just said. "Um, what?"

"What?"

"You said... wait, are we going to the same uni?!"

"Um, yeah? We got into the same uni."

Shock takes ever your expression for a moment. "You remember which uni I applied to?"

He looks at you incredulously. "Yeah, of course I remember. And don't be so damn humble about your exam results, I know for a fact we're both getting in."

You take a second to find a response in your head, which seems momentarily empty except for that one phrase 'of course I remember.' "Well, that's beside the point." Jungkook raises a brow at you, not buying it but willing to shelf the matter for now. "What did you mean by all that earlier?"

He looks down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I have no idea what you mean."

"No no, you can't get out of it that easily."

"I think I can."

You take a few steps to his side and try to perch yourself up on the side of the counter next to him. He doesn't say anything as he helps you up with his good hand wrapped around your waist--and neither do you in case the combustion of heat in your body will expel flames out of your mouth the second you open it, right for your rival to see. "You're infuriating, you know that right?"

"Really? Haven't heard you say it before."

"Shut up," you chuckle, lightly shoving his shoulder with your own.

"Never. I know how much you love my snark, even if you don't admit it," he grins in return, looking at you in a way that makes your insides turn and twist. God you didn't think you could hate his stupid face even more than you do now (or something like that).

Then there comes a moment where everything went still. You think it's slightly unfair that this boy is able to bend people to his will with his looks and charm, and now apparently he can bend time too. Okay, maybe in this instance it doesn't feel as bad because you strangely don't mind having time suspended when he's there with you.

Those brown eyes flicker down to your lips so quickly you wouldn't have caught it had you not been intently gazing at him too. Rushes of heat fill every inch of your body, and to be honest, you don't know how to respond to it.

Times like these are few between you two, mostly because most of your interactions happen where there's a number of people around. But when it's just the two of you...

It feels slightly dangerous, but in a warm, comforting way that's so addictive you get a little scared of how much you don't want it to end. And also how his lips don't look as repulsive to press your own again as much as they usually do.

Damn him and his witchery.

"Anything else you want me to do?"

He raises a brow. "I want you to do a lot of things, you're gonna have to be more specific."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I mean, any cleaning up you needed me to do for your unhygienic brother?"

"Ah... no. The dishes were the main thing."

"Okay..." Silence stretches around the two of you until you find enough boldness within you to break it. "What were the other things?"

"What other things?"

"That you wanted me to do."

"Uh, I think you might fracture my balls too if I said them."

"Coward."

The corner of his lips curve. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity."

"Wow, I didn't think you knew it existed since you tend to cross it a lot."

"Har har," he deadpans, making you smile.

Your hands run over your thighs, a nervous tick you have that you have no doubt he's clocked onto by the way his good hand reaches out to squeeze one of them gently. Your hand, that is, though a corner of your traitorous mind that's steadily becoming louder over the past couple of weeks the longer you spend time with him thinks that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it was your thigh instead. It's certainly big enough and you've seen the way he handles modelling clay for his art homework. There's no doubt he'd be able to relieve the tension of the muscles there. Or anywhere else--ah, no. Nope. Absolutely not.

"Sometimes I kinda kick myself for doing this deal with you." At your quizzical look, he clears his throat. "Makes it harder to ignore you when you're right with me for a good chunk of the day."

"You couldn't ignore me even if you tried."

He snorts. "Tired and proven."

Your brows scrunch, though your heart still beats against your chest. "What, really? You've tried to ignore me? Damn. Here I was hoping it would've worked out."

"Oh, I tried a few years ago, I think? Closer to when we first met. But unfortunately, you're hard to ignore."

Mockingly, you straighten you back and lift your head up. "Given how perfect I am, smarts and looks and all."

His smile is a bit weaker this time. "Yeah... Practically impossible to keep my mind off you."

Silence flows once more for a moment or two and you realise his hands is still wrapped around yours. "You know I tried too...in the beginning. Unfortunately, that didn't last long either."

His brow quicks. "Given how perfect I am, smarts and looks and all?"

"The opposite, actually. You were too dumb and ugly not to. Out of pity, really." From your teasing expression, he knows that he was right.

"Riiiiight, 'pity'. We'll go for that blatant lie if you want to save face."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"I think you do."

"I think I don't."

You don't realise until now how close your faces have gotten, able to feel the soft gentle breaths against your lips from his. It feels so difficult to maintain the distance but even more so to move closer to further.

"When you asked me what I meant by all that... ask me again."

"What?"

"Ask me what I meant by everything I said before."

You've been sensing this coming for a while now, longer than whatever time you've spent together in his brother's now-clean kitchen (thanks to you). Like the sky is falling, but you can't seem to look away from it.

"What did you mean?"

Jungkook's tongue peeks out to run along his bottom lip. "I meant that I... I think you're amazing, potentially out of my league--"

"--definitely out of your league--" Definitely what you would consider a lie because look at him and his social skills and his grades and passion and whatnot.

"--and so damn sweet and kind."

"Did you not just hear me call myself out of your league? Or pay attention to most of our conversations in general."

He sends a questioning look to you, as if he can see through your bullshit. "I think we both know you don't think that--for some stupid reason, because you actually are out of my league."

"Don't be humble, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not. Just truthful. And the truth is, I find it hard to be around you and not fall for you. I see the person you are when you let your guard down with people you care about and how annoyingly well you follow that moral compass of yours even if you use fancy mean words to distract everyone else."

You snort. "If only you heard my thoughts about you while I was doing the dishes. Maiming was not off the list."

He tried to bite back a laugh. "Given the condition of those dishes, I would give you a free pass for homicide."

"Good thing your teen boy-genes haven't totally overtaken your common sense of hygiene."

"I think we can both agree we're growing out of the 'teen' bit of our lives."

"Nope," you deny quickly, waving your hand out as if to undo what he just said. "I'd like to stick my head in the sand and forget about how quickly life is moving into adulthood until it hits me like a train--"

"--or a clown--"

"--thank you very much," you end tightly, sending him a light-hearted glare.

"As I was saying," he continues, amusement lighting up his face, "it's hard not to want to kiss you at times."

"Even when I'm mouthing off to you?"

"Especially when you're mouthing off."

Even though you were expecting it, it takes a minute to process. "Oh."

"Yes, 'ohhhhh'," he mocks, nudging you with a teasing smirk.

"That must've been annoying in class then."

"Very," he nods solemnly. "There were times I wanted to throw caution to the wind and traumatise everyone."

"From the shit some of my friends say, I don't think people would be that shocked if you'd kiss me."

"Huh, maybe you're not as airheaded as you make yourself out to be."

"Rude," you mumble. "I pay attention. I just tend to...second guess."

"I think my feelings for you were a bit obvious. I mean, I think I could've survived without having you be at my beck and call this summer but I said yes anyway."

"Manipulative bastard."

"Anything for you," he sends a cheesy grin your way, making you laugh at the sudden and very inconvenient butterflies fluttering about in your stomach.

"'Anything'?"

"Okay, from that tone, I can tell you're imagining something horrifying so let me change that to 'anything within reason'."

"Coward."

"You are slightly terrifying."

"Why, thank you," you smile, and he smiles too with that buttery warm look of fondness again before he leans in slowly, giving you enough time to move away. But when you don't, he pressed his lips against yours and fucking hell it's the softest thing you've ever felt.

You don't know how long it takes for the kiss to break but even breathless you still miss the warm softness against your mouth. And apparently he felt the same because it takes very little time for him to capture your lips again, untangling his hand from yours to cup the side of your jaw, keeping you in place--not like it was possible for you to leave his addictive taste anyway, it might take dark magic for that to happen.

Maybe something even more potent, when his tongue slips its way past your lips and you find that he's stolen every single thought that occupied your mind. Again, time slips away until you're lungs are burning from the lack of air and you both pull away--though not too far from one another.

"So," he says breathless.

"So," you repeat in the same manner, mind still a little fuzzy.

"That was... something."

"Good something or bad something?"

"I don't think 'good' is a strong enough word I want to use." You hum in agreement, and reluctantly pull a little further away, his hand dropping back down onto yours. He looks at you curiously. "So..."

"So..."

"Would I be too soon if I asked you to take pity on a poor simp like me and be mine?"

"Hmmm," you hum in thought. "Given your performance, I'm inclined to accept."

"I can upgrade you from being my reluctant servant to my reluctant lover." He wiggles his borrows and you groan.

"With a romantic declaration like that, I find it hard not to accept," you deadpan, before sighing and leaning against his shoulder. You want to bottle up that sound up and listen to it until you get sick of it--which you have a sneaking suspicion is about as likely as the sun imploding in your lifetime.

"Would you let me continue to wreak havoc on your life?"

"Naturally."

"Then yes. I accept." He raises a brow expectantly and you clock on to what he's waiting for. "I'm not saying it."

"Say it."

"No."

"Please?"

"I take back my answer."

"No backsies."

"What, are you five years old or something?"

"Just say it! Say you'll be my lover."

"If you manage to make this relationship last for 50 years, then I will."

He huffs, leaning his head on top of yours, fingers linking with yours. "I suppose I can agree with that. I'll keep a note of it in my calendar."

"How unusually organised of you."

"Like I said, I'd do anything for you."

"Within reason, of course."

"Of course. Doesn't need to be logical reason, just reason."

"Good to know. Now, let's get out of your brother's place. I feel all the germs crawling all over me and need an extra hot shower--maybe two--to feel even remotely clean after that ordeal."

He laughs as he pressed a kiss on top of your head. "Yeah, okay, we can do that. Though I hoped you reminded me before I kissed you."

"You just did again after I told you, dumbass."

"In my defence, I did tell you it was hard not to. If I die of some unknown disease, I blame on you." You roll your eyes with a smile as the two of you hop off the counter and make your way out, hands still clasped together.

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Can the blue mega finally shut up? Seriously, they go into the free Palestine tags to write shit about voting for a Zionist because they think she's the best option for Palestine… The blue MEGA is irritating

Seriously, you enter the tags to find out what's going on in Gaza or to share thugs, and the blue MEGA already appears there to write her shit (And classic texts about Trump… Let him win, maybe you'll finally start fucking care about genocide, you pro-genocide bastards)

No matter how much I despise Trump, at least that would be the perfect punishment for you for using Palestine as a tool to vote for a Zionist, fuck you liberals, no one likes you

The truth is that you don't care about the genocide and you are using gaslighting to get people to vote for your Zionist bitch as if Trump wins so that you can finally give a damn about the genocide in Gaza because if your blue terrorists do it, you don't care

Fuck you with the texts about bots, Russian trolls and calling others stupid, it hurts you so much that people care about genocide and that's why they refuse to vote for a Zionist bitch with a history of supporting fucking Israel? Are you seriously that stupid or are you fucking pretending?

Yes, no one fucking wants to see you in tags about Free Palestine, because all you do is force people to vote and masturbate to a Zionist (And the fact that she is a woman makes you think that you will get along with her easily… Really? Misogyny on top of that? You dare defend Harris because of her ethnicity and gender, you are fucked) you are disgusting, you have a history of attacking strikers and enjoying police brutality (And then you take the successes of the left to use them as a way to force people to vote for people who don't even care about minorities, anyway, it's funny that you keep silent about homeless people and people with disabilities, but it doesn't really matter to you, because you consider them to be worth more than you)

Yes, I will not forgive you, you are complicit in genocide and you will pay for it

Now that I have your attention:

[chaifootsteps]

It's always funny when people dare problematic artists to tell their friends and family about the problematic fictional art they create, only to usually be met with support or indifference. Hell, some of them have even made money because they were able to get deals or jobs because of how well-done their art is. It pisses people off when someone isn't crucified for enjoying and drawing fucked-up fiction in the real world.

Seriously. My mom couldn't care less what weird things I write, but I know she deeply approves of the fact that people sometimes pay me to write it.

[lorynna]

Andrew Tate, a huge hypocrite, is the perfect example of: create the disease, sell the cure." Now, let me explain.

Tate starts off with his webcam business. He openly admits on camera - filming and releasing the footage himself -, that not only is he purposefully manipulating girls, making them fall in love with him (he himself calls it and actively uses the term "lover boy method" as a descriptor) but then also convincing them to work for him as cam-girls, telling those women that they could get rich together if she would simply start instrumentalizing her body and sexuality. He continues to explain in great detail how exactly he emotionally abused those women, lied to them and used several manipulation tactics on them. But I'd rather not mention all that here, since that would open up a whole new conversation and take too long to fully dive into this.

He also admitted on camera that he robbed them of about half of the money those women made "working for him" and then states and I quote: They thought they were on 50% and I said that the despair of the money was because of taxes."

He continues to talk about men "falling in love" with the women he recruited for his Webcam business which were selling their houses, spending all of their life savings etc. in order to pay for the cam-girl services and he commented on those men's actions saying," give me all of it" admitting he didn't at all care for the lives or fates of those men. Tate built his whole empire on being a pimp, which he defines as and i quote again" being a positive, inspirational, motivating person", exploiting and extracting money from lonely, depressed, porn-addicted men.

Now something might start to click. But isn't he a known advocate for those exact men? Telling them that porn consumption is bad, to get their health and depression in check, recommending going to the gym and preaching about how much he hates prostitutes?

He's an advocate for men's suffering and problems? After he caused so much damage to them, making money off of them, taking advantage of them and furthered their misery? The irony.

First he scammed those men, taking their money with good conscience, now he is an advocate for them, making them hate the kind of women he himself manipulated into this, talking about how bad porn is, when he literally owned a webcam business. And don't dare to come at me with "but people change, maybe he learnt from his mistakes".

For now I just recounted why he's a huge hypocrite but now let's focus on why he is a huge mysognist. He has said many things I don't even want to recount, including but ofc not limited to him demonstrating how he'd hit a women in the face that would "misbehave" and not "listen to him" and I have also unfortunately personally seen the video footage that is going around of him beating up a woman with a belt.

One example out of his many many statements so I can further lead on with this text: He further talks about his webcam business, saying "the only girls i couldn't recruit, were girls who had rich parents. Because they're like: Oh, but I don't need that money, my parents are rich! Girls are gonna get their Luis Vuitton bag either way." Implying how all women are superficial and only rich parents prevent a girl from being a "hoe". He got his fame and money from the same women he continues to publicly shame now.

He damaged women and men at the same time, yet there's still people, mostly men, defending him saying "yeah, but he also sometimes tells things that are true!". I appreciate your intention to differentiate and trying to filter through the many bullshit things he's said just so you can cling on to a single true statement.

Even the worst person sometimes has valid points, but that doesn't mean that we can just overlook the things he did in the past and the overall harm he has caused and is STILL causing.

Aside from all of this stuff, Tate continued to deny many of his statements he himself posted online before, showing massive double standards. It seems like he just tries to profit off what's giving him the largest, most uncritical fan base and by targeting incels who love to follow and hear an "alpha male" talk about how "all women are bitches", fueling their anger due to being rejected by women, he seems to have found a goldmine.

He promotes harmful, misogynistic views on women, promoting toxic behavior towards them and is imprinting on the minds of young, impressionable, vulnerable men.

If after knowing all this, you're still a defender of Tate, you might be just as bad as Tate himself.

[0rah-s]

Hii I have a request to make!!

You do magi right?

I want a jealous judar x reader who is obvious

And the reason judar is jealous is because someone is flirting with reader

Jealous!Judar x reader

A/n : thank you for requesting! You have no idea how exited i was when i saw that you wanted a magi fanfic! Feel free to request again anytime soon mwah!

It was a saturday morning and you woke up fresher than ever, unlike the human rag sat beside you at the dinner table. You were finishing your breakfast and were getting ready to go out grocery shopping hoping to get some fresh fruits.

You were now in the bathroom fixing last details as your grumpy boyfriend came from behind you, laced his arms around your waist and rested his head in the croock of your neck - peppering it with kisses in the hope to sway you into getting back in bed, "was there really a need to wake up this early for grocery? I could just ask those useless royals to get your stuff" he grunted. You smiled wondering how you've not yet gotten tired of his daily antics? "I don't want to lose my habits and get over-dependent on your acquaintances dear". You turned around to reciprocate the hug, hopefully temporarily satisfying his clinginess.

Flash forward, the both of you are at the market. Smells of spices, perfumes and nectars are brought all around you by the wind of the kou empire. Being close to the sea ment that you could hear the waves crashing the shore and the boats ariving closer to the docs - the sensory experience making waking up early all worth it.

Bored out of his mind, Judar stood in a corner as you were bargaining with a marchent for a fairer price of sindrian canddles (you might have been carried away from the main objective of this outing again). Then suddenly, as swiftly as the wind, someone gives money to the marchent "who would dare to make such a fine person pay on this beautiful day" the stranger said.

He had looks above average and had was quite tall, probably the popular type, you would be lying if you denied you found him attractive. A soft smile never leaving his face he turns back to you inching closer "please let this be on me, and perhaps a drink ?".

Took by surprise you try to decline his kind offer "please keep your money, I can't accept." You gave a bow. For the worst, this interaction did not go unnoticed by judar, he marched while the poorly hid scowl on his face could have created a storm.

"Taken." Is all he said. His hand griped your waist twice harder than this morning and more than his love - you felt his possessiveness. With his free hands he shoves some of his money back to the man. The marchent had already fled to the back with the money the stranger had given him while waiting for the argument to difuse.

"Umm..." Stuck between two men, you couldn't help but get flustered - something that Judar did not like.

You're his to gaze at, his to kiss and admire, his to worship . You are only his.

You hurriedly gathered you belongings "Haha...well as much as i appreciate we have places to be at bye!!" An awkard laugh escapes as you push judar away.

The both of you are quickly teleported to your living room. Before you can try to appease your frowning partner he holds you by the wrist and wordlessly take you to your shared bedroom. He takes off your coat and shoes for you while mumbling curses at the unfortunate stranger.

"Judar...are you alright my love?" He rose at your words and embraced you, you both fell on the bed due to the sudden shift in weight.

One, two, three, four, you stoped counting the amount of time his lips met your skin.

By cyclical irony, he found himself here he started his day - cuddled up with you with his head hid in your collar. With some effort you moved the both of you underneath the blanket and stroked his hair, if you payed close attention you could hear him mutter 'mine' and words alike.

"I'm yours as you are mine, I won't let go of you"

The certain and confidant way these words rolled off of your tounge must have given him the comfort he needed to fall back asleep with one last kiss to your lips.

"Rest well "

[beanghostprincess]

This a AU my mind create and I loved this-

What if, instaed of dying when Sanji was a kid, Sora just was on a coma? But Judge tells that she died to Sanji? Then, everything of the canon happens and the boy run away, just to some months later, Sora wake from the coma and discovers her beloved son was dead?

Judge says to her move on, the failure isn't worth of all the sadness, she is a queen and have a kingdom. But something don't make sense in the history, and Reiju ends up telling the truth to her mother.

And Sora is SO mad, like, how Judge DARES doing this to her child?! After this, she decides to run away, wanting to find her son and live with him. Because even if she hates saying that, she can't do anything for her other sons.

Sora starts to try to find Sanji, living with the money she steal. After months of doing this, she's just on another day when Sora finds a restaurant named Baratie, and isn't so bad have a quickly meal, isn't it?

After eating the best meal she ever have (and think how Sanji will love the place), she is going to pay when she see a little boy with blonde hair, one of his eyes hide from his hair and a beautiful blue eye. And he is SO similar to her boy, she thinks, looking him until Zeff appear and start to talk with the boy, calling him Sanji. And it's like the world stops to Sora.

She go at them, carefully, before saying a "hello" and then Sanji looks at her, and he can't believe how this women looks like his mother, but can't be her, she's dead. He just looks at her, wide eyes, and then she presents herself as "Vinsmoke Sora" and now it's Sanji's time to fell the world stop.

They have a beautiful and happy and sad reencounter, and Zeff is happy for his boy. He hears Sora's explanation about everything and decides to let her live with them too (because the eggplant deserve some happiness, and he also can't let the boy go away).

And Sora is SO gratefull, she thanks him a thousand times and start to work cooking at the Baratie, finally free from Germa and certainly that her boy is okay. Zeff and Sora end up marrying, and they live happy and together.

She's in the Baratie when the Strawhats appear and Sanji joins him, but none of them see her. She supports him to no end and always cry from proundness when his bounty is higer (and yes, she's pissed because the marine put the fucking lastname "Vinsmoke" in the poster). It's strange in the first months, because her boy is not there and she's worried, but after some time she ends up acostumed.

Bonus: after she discover about WCI, Sora is SO worried that she convince Sanji to let her be some months in his ship, and then she know the crew (they love her, they finally understand how Sanji manage to bem so sweet) and discovers that her son is actually her daughter, and she supports him to no end. (The Strawhats are there, hearing when Sanji tells her and all of them are happy of hear all her support to Sanji)

And maybe, she knows her daughters boyfriend. (This can be any shipp, Lusan, Zosan, Lawsan, Sanuso or Acesan. And the moment will be so funny and perfect-)

This is ADORABLE and I love all the AUs with Sora because she's just perfect. The perfect mom. This is so sweet :((