#it just sucks that they insist this is all some kind of privilege?? fuck you cis white girls!!!

[agp]

forreal tme and tma is kinda dumb. thats like the terfs saying amab and afab as misogyny exempt and misogyny affected. exactly like them! why do we do identity politics so lazily?

[goodluckclove]

Is there someone willing to explain what Therapy Speak is? And maybe tell me if the people who talk about how unrealistic and impossible and stupid and manipulative it is has ever been to therapy?

This got long. I am genuinely upset over this so pardon my intensity and here's a read more. It does not feel good to have the first thing you see online be calling the way I communicate in the world as a human being "unrealistic, stupid, and poor writing". So just humor me.

Like this sounds gatekeeping. And in a way it is. I know therapy is a privilege and good therapy a luxury. As I type this I realize some people dissing Therapy Speak might actually be people who either had a bad experience with a therapist, or just don't have the resources to form a relationship with one at all. And if your way to cope with that is saying it actually would suck to have one - I kind of get that. I'm still going to share my perspective though.

So therapy, like literally everything else in the world, is a spectrum with tons of nuance. One therapist might hand out worksheets or practice CBT or DBT or EMDR or have an endless list of specialities. One therapist might encourage "I feel" statements, but that's a structure that's smart to help you develop a new skill in your own personal style. Much like how no one expects every writer to create only using prompts forever, they're not telling you to rely solely on the "when you X, I feel X" Mad Lib from now on.

When you first start actually using "I feel" statements, it might look like "When you blow me off for plans, I feel upset". It's vulnerable, but it's actually an effective thing to say in conversation.

Flash forward a while later, and you start saying things like "when I make plans with a friend I really put a lot of faith in that structure, and when it's taken away - even for a good reason - it sort of makes me feel anxious and unregulated. It takes me a while to get back on track."

If you have relationships that are platonic, romantic, sexual, familial - I promise you that is important information. You tell someone that and they might be able to recontextualize behavior from you that they perceived as an attack. Virtually every relationship can benefit from knowing the reason why people do things. Miscommunications are inevitable but often easily solved if you're willing to slow down and be vulnerable.

It is not trauma dumping if you do it without relishing in the trauma and throwing the responsibility on the other person. Saying "I get anxious at social events because I'm used to being outcast and sometimes I just assume that'll happen" is not trauma dumping. If anyone in my life said something like that to me I would be so glad to have that information. That's a way to progress in a dozen different ways.

I get there are bad therapists. There are also bad doctors, dentists, and people who work at your local deli. I had a mean barista at a coffee shop I went to. So now I go to a different coffee shop with different baristas.

But like holy shit, if you think it's not worth anyone crafting characters that actually know how to express and explore their emotions in a human way that matches their personality? If you don't think a book can have that and still be interesting? For anyone????

Skill issue. Flat out. And while there is really nothing that would make me believe someone is a bad writer - I do think an inability to explore something this basic and insist no one else explore it either is terrible work ethic.

Also like my therapist saved my fucking life. I've been in therapy for almost ten years, and if I wasn't my life would be drastically worse. I would probably still be in California, a victim of Munchausen By Proxy for the rest of my life.

So yeah, expositional dialogue is bad when handled badly. People who use therapy language as an excuse to manipulate are trash. Sometimes assholes go to therapy and the therapist sees immediately that there really isn't anything they're capable of doing to help them because they just want to be justified for their current mindset. Thats what my mom did.

But like people communicate their emotions. Everyone should be able to learn how to communicate their emotions with at least one relationship in their life. I would really love it if people stopped perpetuating the belief that that is not something that ever actually happens in life. I want to feel sympathy because I'm sure there's a reason why someone would think that, but frankly that was an existentially horrifying thing to read first thing after waking up.

Anyway if anyone has an alternate perspective I'm happy to hear it. I'm going to eat some guac and try to calm down.

[yeehaw6996]

How absolutely kind of Israel to let Palestinians know when their homes are gonna be bombed. Maybe if Israel wasn’t a terrorist state hamas wouldn’t exist. If during the process of “eliminating” Hamas you are bombing and orphaning children you’re creating so many more Hamas members

the victims of october seventh weren’t as lucky. if there’s any terrorist state it’s the ‘state’ of palestine, considering they actually commit acts of terror. walking into cafes with bomb vests, constantly raining rockets onto civilian targets, the like.

israel is the most successful landback movement in history. if you look up the international criteria for ‘indigenous people’, the jewish people fit, and the palestinians don’t. the arabs colonized the area a long time ago and no matter how hard the various colonizers tried, they were unable to remove a jewish presence from the region. israel is a small space. it’s about the size of new jersey. what confuses me is why the ‘palestinians’, a cultural identity that did not emerge until after the ‘67 war, can’t be absorbed into the other arab nations in the region - oh, wait, they antagonized them all by overthrowing two governments (jordanian and lebanese).

the palestinians are the most privileged refugees in the world. they’re also the most entitled. they are the only group to have received generational refugee status. they receive the most aid in the world per capita, much of which is from israel, the people they terrorize. however, i saw a palestinian man on twitter film a video and post it to tiktok complaining about the mre he’d gotten - keep in mind, that’s the food that american service members eat? it’s a higher quality food package than typical disaster relief food?? the fuck??

now they insist the indigenous people move aside? automatically forgive the past century, past milennia, of terror and oppression, just so some overprivileged people who refuse to assimilate anywhere and demand land that doesn’t belong to them can get away with mass rape, terror, and hypocrisy?

let me ask you this - what exactly do you think the gazans would do with an airport?

don’t get me wrong, i’m not jewish. no need to throw slurs or accusations at me. i’m american, not israeli. i came into this conflict with little to no knowledge of the region and, after extensive research, came out a zionist. i leaned left before this. however these days, on this issue specifically, ben shapiro makes more sense than hasan. do you know how much that pisses me off? i hate the right! fuck republicanism in general! why do i have to agree with them? once the left starts making sense again i’ll come back, but it’s been made abundantly clear that leftists want the destruction of the jewish people like every fascist group before them.

regarding making new hamas members - i get where you’re coming from. however you underestimate the effect that a peaceful protest movement could have on the people of israel. these are not awful people, and believing such is antisemitic - and their government listens to them. why do you think they’re bombing gaza instead of extensive ground operations? they don’t want to lose soldiers and deal with their families voting against them. the jewish people can absolutely be convinced into palestinian statehood, you just need to convince them, instead of killing them. what’s the incentive for them to create another enemy state in the region?

do your own research and stop listening to the people around you. look into the jewish religion and their connection to the land. i know it’s easy to get sucked into what others think of an issue, but it’s your responsibility to form opinions for yourself. benny morris has some good books. a concise history of a nation reborn by daniel gordis is also a good one. rise above the hate around you and see the situation for what it is, and don’t shrink your historical knowledge to the past century - learn about the land if you insist on wasting the oxygen necessary for life, why don’t you.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Teach Me, Tease Me [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

A/N - this is for my Training Square on my CM Bingo Card for @cmbingo​ at least it is if you squint hard enough. CM Bingo Masterlist can be found here.

Really had an itch that needed to be scratched here in the form of Professor Spencer and a TA in training the reader. Just utter, utter filth. AKA - You are nervous enough for your first day of teaching training, and when you meet your new mentor, the incredibly attractive Doctor Reid, it only makes the situation more tense.

Masterlist for all fics can be found here.

CW - Age gap (Spencer’s late 30’s and reader is early/mid 20’s) dom! Spencer/ sub! Reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), female/male masturbation (mildly) some degradation, swearing. 

WC: 3.5K

Smoothing down your skirt and taking a few deep breaths in the hopes to calm your rattled nerves, you knocked on the door. 

Dr Spencer Reid’s reputation preceded him. Not only was he supposed to be an incredible lecturer in criminal psychology but he had fifteen years on the job experience with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. To learn from such a legend in his field was a dream come true to you. 

Getting accepted in a TA role at Georgetown had been an incredible achievement in itself but to be Spencer Reid’s TA, to be trained by this great man left you a bag of nerves. 

Your hands were shaking as you smoothed down your skirt again. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and then quickly untucked it again just as the door opened. 

You were met with a pair of intense hazel eyes. They belonged to a tall, slim man with messy hair as though he’d just gotten out of bed and the most sinful pair of lips you had ever laid eyes on.

You swallowed, trying to push down your attraction.

“Uhm...I’m sorry I just have the wrong office. I’m looking for Dr Reid.” You went to turn to leave because this man was far too attractive and you would no doubt end up making a fool of yourself but his voice caught you.

“You’re in the right place. I’m Dr Reid.” 

You tried to stop your jaw from hitting the floor. You had pictured Dr Reid to be a man much older than the one in front of you, either greying or balding and on the heavier side.

The Dr Reid in front of you was drop dead gorgeous. This had to be some kind of joke? How were you possibly supposed to learn when you were just getting lost in his eyes?

“You’re...you…” you stuttered, not being able to form words.

He laughed and it was such a magnificent sound you wanted to hear it every day for the rest of your life.

“You must be Y/N? My new TA?” His smile made your knees buckle and you hoped he didn't notice. 

His eyes glanced up and down your body and butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Your skirt suddenly felt too short and your shirt too tight. 

“Mmm hmm.” You mumbled, worrying if you spoke your voice would come out a high pitched squeak. 

He chuckled again and stepped back, creating a space for you to enter.

“Please come in.” He motioned for you to step inside his office. You slowly stepped inside, your legs shaking. 

This was the first step towards your dream job of lecturing at Georgetown and it was terrifying enough without your new mentor being the most attractive man you’d ever seen. 

“Take a seat.” Spencer smiled at you as he stepped behind his desk, taking his own seat. 

You chewed your lip as you made your way to the chair. His eyes never left you. You felt his eyes dance over your bare legs and up your thighs. Your palms were sweating under his intense gaze. 

You were thankful to sit down as you couldn’t be confident in your legs ability to hold you up right. 

“I’m very pleased to be here Dr Reid.” You croaked, feeling like you needed to say something, anything. 

Spencer leant his elbows on the desk, smiling across at you. 

“Please, call me Spencer.” 

“O-ok.”

“Are you ok?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “You seem...nervous.”

You were more than nervous. You were turned on. The way he was looking at you and the way he periodically licked his bottom lip was driving you crazy. 

“This is a big...opportunity for me.” Your words were punctuated with deep breaths and you knew Spencer noticed it. 

“As long as you're sure that’s all?” 

“Yes, it is.” You lied. 

“Ok good.” He smirked at you. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. He wasn’t a big headed man, but he knew attraction when he saw it. 

He saw the way your chest heaved as you breathed, heavier even when he licked his lip. He saw the way your hands couldn’t stay still and the way you pressed your thighs together every now and again. 

He could hear it in your shaky words and staggered breathing.

And honestly, Spencer loved it. 

He didn’t think he’d ever had this effect on a woman before and it was enough to make him aroused. He already knew he wanted you, needed you. It was wrong, you were his TA, but the illicit nature of it made it hotter to him.

“So,” he sat back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Tell me about yourself Y/N.” He licked his lip again and watched your thighs press together once more. 

He wanted to put his head between those thighs. 

“Uhm...I’m not sure where to begin.” You breathing was heavy, breast heaving. 

He wanted those breasts in his mouth, he wanted to take your nippes between his lips and suck on them. 

You spoke but he didn’t hear your words. His head was entirely elsewhere. He had to think of a way to make you his. And he would. He was sure of it. 

He wouldn’t rest until he had you.

***

The next week you dressed more conservatively for work. Strictly pants and thick jackets. But it didn’t stop Dr Reid’s wandering eyes.

After the first few days you felt less nervous around him and actually you found yourself loving the effect you had on him. Today during a lecture he had dropped a pen on the floor and you’d picked it up for him, making sure to give him an eyeful of your backside. 

He’d stumbled over his words for a few minutes after that and you were left with an odd sense of pride.

After the first few weeks you started dressing less conservatively. Your pencil skirts came back out of hiding and sometimes you left an extra button on your shirt undone. 

Despite the obvious tension between the two of you, you were learning a lot from Dr Reid. He was incredibly smart and a wonderful lecturer. You found yourself hanging off his every word when he lectured and you could tell his students felt the same.

After a month of working with him, you were starting to get more friendly with one another. You would spend your free time on campus getting coffee and walking the grounds together while he told you stories of his time with the BAU. 

You were able to relax around him, make jokes and playful conversation. But there was still that underlying sexual tension that drove you both wild. 

That night Spencer had papers to grade and you offered to stay and help. 

You popped out to the campus coffee shop for some pick me ups and when you returned to his office his jacket was slung over the back of his chair, his tie undone and draped around his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. 

It was such a sight you almost dropped the coffees but managed to steady yourself in time. 

“Ah my saviour.” He smiled up at you from a stack of papers. “Bring the chair around here, we can read together and you can tell me what you think.” 

Nervously you pulled the chair around next to him but not too close. Spencer laughed. 

“I don’t bite.” He smirked at you. Unless you want me to. 

You laughed nervously and shuffled a little closer. You picked up the paper on top of the stack and started reading over it.

Spencer’s eyes were on you the whole time and it made your concentration wane. His gaze was intense and focused on your mouth and you squeezed your thighs together. 

“You do that a lot.” His voice was low and breathy. 

You looked at him like a deer in headlights.

“Do what?” You croaked.

His eyes were trained on your lips and you had never wanted someone to kiss you more in your entire life.

“Squeeze your thighs together.” He leaned closer to you and you could feel his hot breath on your face. “Is it because of me?” 

“Spencer,” you whispered looking down into your lap.

“I know, I know.” He sighed. “You're my TA. I’m a lot older than you.”

“You’re not that much older than me.” You looked back up and your eyes met his. He was chewing his lip. 

“It’s wrong that I feel this way.” He swallowed. “But goddamnit Y/N, ever since you walked into my office I can’t stop thinking about you and all the things I want to do to you. But it’s wrong. But gosh that makes it so hot.” 

A surge of confidence came over you and you pushed your chest forward, leaning even closer to him.

“So what are you going to do about it, Doctor Reid?”

He hissed at your use of his honorific. 

“You are a tease, do you know that?” He growled. “A filthy fucking tease.”

“Maybe you should do something about it then.” 

Spencer couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d shown a hell of a lot of restraint this past month but he couldn’t do it anymore.

He grasped your face and closed the small space between you. Your lips finally met with blinding passion. You moaned at the sensation you’d been dreaming of for weeks. Spencer took advantage of this and his tongue thrust into your mouth. 

He pulled you into his lap and you straddled him as he deepened the kiss. You let him control you, you’d let him do anything to you, you were sure of it. 

His hands left your face and trailed down your sides before rounding your back. His fingers pushed your skirt up and then his large hands cupped your ass, squeezing tight. 

You moaned again, your hands diving inside his shirt to feel the hot skin of his chest. You started toying with his shirt buttons but Spencer broke the kiss and glared at you.

“Nuh uh.” He shook his head. “You lost your privilege to do what you want when you insisted on teasing me in class. You’ll do what I say, and only what I say. Understood?”

Oh god that was hot, you felt weak.

“Yes.”

“Yes who?”

“Yes Doctor Reid.” 

“That’s better.” He smirked. “Now get up.” 

You nodded, slipping off his lap and standing in front of him. 

Spencer stood from his chair, towering over you. 

“Bend over the desk.” 

You swallowed, nodding stiffly. You turned around and leant over the desk, your palms flat on the wood, sticking your ass up as high as you could.

Another hiss left Spencer’s lips. You felt him move close to you and press his body into yours. You could feel his hard dick in his pants pushing against your rear.

“You want that Y/N? Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” You croaked. “Yes please Doctor Reid.”

He laughed, his breath hitting your neck. 

“Well you’re going to have to wait.” 

You felt his hands on the backs of your thighs and his fingertips traced over your skin. He hoisted your skirt up again and hissed once more.

“Black lace panties, really Y/N?” He ran his fingers over the fabric. “This is underwear that is begging to be seen.” 

“Yes Doctor.”

“Who did you wear these for?”

“You Doctor Reid, only you.”

“Damn right.” He slapped his palm on your ass cheek, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room. 

He leant into you again, his hands now on your stomach, making their way to your breasts.

He cupped your breasts through your shirt, palming them and applying pressure. 

“Perfect.” He groaned into your ear. “Just fucking perfect.” 

Suddenly he stood back again and you felt empty without his touch. For a few seconds the room was silent and you didn’t know what to expect. 

“Turn around.” He spoke again suddenly, startling you a little. 

You did as you were told, loving the way he was domineering you this way. 

His eyes trailed up and down your body, lingering on your chest. 

“Undo your shirt.” He growled at you. “I want to see you. That’s what you want isn’t it? My eyes all over your body. That’s why you dress this way you fucking tease.” 

His words made you so wet. He was usually so nice and so soft spoken so seeing this side of him was making your toes curl.

Once again, you did as you were told and started unbuttoning your shirt. You made sure to tackle the buttons slowly, really give Spencer a show. Once all the buttons were undone you shrugged your shirt off your shoulders.

Spencer took in the view of your breasts clad in a bra that matched your panties. He was chewing his lip so hard he could taste his own blood. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He hissed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever you want Doctor Reid.” 

“On your knees.” He instructed and you smirked to yourself, liking where this was heading. 

You got down on your knees in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“What do you want, Doctor?” You pouted, licking your lips. 

He unbuckled his belt and popped the button on his slacks. The zipper slid down soon after and he pulled his dick free of the confines of pants and underwear. 

His was painfully hard, practically throbbing. He was big but you knew you could take him. 

You bowed your head and let your tongue lap over his swollen head making him groan in an animalistic fashion. 

“Is this what you want Doctor?” You breathed, making sure your breath hit his cock.

“You fucking know it is.” He growled. “Take me. Take all of me.”

You smirked up at him, knowing just the thought of his dick in your mouth was breaking down his tough facade. 

You took his command and wrapped your lips around his head before quickly moving down his shaft. 

He felt his dick hit the back of your throat and his hand flew to your hair, tugging hard. 

“Fucking hell.” His head fell back and his eyes closed. 

You smirked around his shaft as you started moving. You bobbed your head up and down his length but before long, Spencer started thrusting, practically fucking your mouth. And it was so hot.

He tugged your hair harder and harder as he thrust in and out of your warm, wet mouth. He forced his eyes open so he could watch his cock disappear in and out of your mouth.

“Touch yourself.” He grunted. You could taste his pre-come leaking from his head. “Now.”

You pulled your skirt up with one hand and moved your panties aside. Your finger danced on your wet clit, making you moan around Spencer. 

His eyes flicked between your mouth bobbing up and down around him and to your hand between your legs. 

It was almost too much for him but he wasn’t ready for this to be over. He startled you when he pulled back, removing his dick from your mouth. 

You stared up at him, your hand at a standstill on your core. You wanted to await Spencer’s instructions. 

“Are you wet?”

“So wet.” 

“Good.” He wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you up to your feet. He took your fingers in his mouth and moaned at the taste of you on his tongue.

“God you taste so fucking good.” Quickly he reached behind you and swiped his hands across the desk sending the paperwork flying. He took you by your shoulders and guided you back until your ass collided with the desk. 

He pushed you back so you were laying down and practically tore your skirt and panties off leaving you in just your bra and heels. He grabbed hold of your legs and swung them over his shoulders before he thrust into you with all his might.

You both moaned loudly as he filled you up. You were so tight and wet around him he almost blew his load then and there. 

He started his thrusts, hard and fast and frantic. With your legs on his shoulders the angle he was hitting you at was phenomenal. You arched your back and closed your eyes.

“Look at me.” He spat making your eyes shoot back open in an instant. 

He smirked, he loved how he had you wrapped around his little finger so easily. 

“Take off your bra.” He was panting now as he spoke, feeling dangerously close to the edge. He tried to steady himself, he wasn’t ready for this to be over just yet. 

You arched your back some more and reached your hand behind you to undo the clasp of your bra. It took longer than usual as Spencer was pounding into you, slamming you against the desk.

When it was unhooked you slid it off your arms and discarded it on the floor.

Spencer chewed his lip and hissed, taking you all in.

“Fucking hell.” He groaned. He let your legs slide from his shoulders to his waist so he could move closer to you. 

He bowed his head and wasted no time in taking your hard nipple in his mouth. He’d imagined sucking your tits countless times but nothing compared to the real thing.

He continued thrusting while using his teeth to really work you up. His fingers played deftly with your other nipple.

You were a complete mess beneath him, completely succumbed to him and his will. 

You moaned when his lips left your nipple but they stayed on your skin, sucking on the swell of breast. He wanted to mark you. He wanted you to remember this for days to come. 

He sucked a mark on your other breast and then moved to your neglected nipple. He was so close he knew he couldn’t last much longer and judging by your stifled moans you were close too. 

He stood back up right so he could thrust deeper inside you. 

“This is what you wanted isn’t it? You fucking…tease.” His words were punctuated with moans. “Touch yourself. Touch that pretty little clit for me.”

You were compliant and slid your hand down your body between your legs. 

Spencer’s thrusts were becoming sloppy as you watched your fingers dance over your heat. Your eyes rolled back in your head. Between your fingers and Spencer’s dick hitting you in places you’d never experienced before, you couldn’t hold out any longer.

“Doctor,” you groaned. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna…”

“Come you fucking dirty tease. Come all over my dick.” 

Your orgasm washed over you and moaned incoherently. You tightened around Spencer as you came and it pushed him to his own orgasm. 

He moaned your name as he filled you up, lazily still thrusting. His face was flushed and slick with a sheen of sweat. 

He rode out his orgasm inside you and then he pulled out. He gently took hold of your wrists and sat you up on the edge of the desk. 

He cupped your face delicately, so far from the man he’d been mere seconds before.

“Are you ok Y/N?” His eyes were riddled with concern as he looked at you.

“I’m more than ok.��� You smiled at him. 

He kissed you softly but it was only brief before he pulled himself away from you.

“Good. Now be a good TA and clear up this mess.” He gestured to the papers now scattered all over the floor. 

You nodded and went to reach for your discarded clothes.

“I didn’t say anything about getting dressed.” He smirked as he sat back in his chair, now soft dick still hanging out of his pants. 

You did as you were told and dressed only in your heels you started bending down to clear up the papers, making sure to put on a show of it.

You could feel his heavy gaze on you and it didn’t take long for his dick to start hardening again at the sight of your bare ass as you bent over.

“Such a tease.” He growled, his hand finding his shaft. You looked back at him as he started slowly pumping himself. “You’re a slut aren’t you Y/N? A filthy slut.”

You felt a sense of pride over what you were able to do to this gorgeous man. Teaching training was definitely going to be an interesting experience. 

“Only for you Doctor Reid.” You smirked. “Only for you.” 

[y0itsbri]

Hi Bri 🥰

C-16 if you'd like to 👀

Coffee dates and disasters

au with college!lip and barista!mandy where ian is a frequent visitor at the campus café and meets mickey under rather unfortunate circumstances. don't cry over spilled milk, buddy.

which also fits under a.u.gust for @gallavichthings

words: 2.4k

"never would have thought you the type to come to one of these places," ian mused, looking around the small café with only lamps and string lights illuminating the space. "can't believe college changed you, man," ian clutched at his heart dramatically.

"don't worry. 'm still the annoying bastard you love so dearly," lip squeezed ian's shoulder before he sauntered up to the counter.

the barista's bored expressed brightened when she saw them. her perky demeanor was matched by a high pitched voice, "hey lip," she smiled, dark lipstick striking. she appraised ian with a somewhat predatory eye, "hello, lip's friend."

"uh, brother," ian coughed.

lip rolled his eyes, "and he's gay so don't even try it, mandy."

she pouted and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, "not that it's any of your business, anyways."

ian chuckled besides him, drawing another smile out of mandy, this one kinder, sweeter.

"what can i get you boys?"

the pink highlights glistened in her dark hair as she whipped up lip's cold brew and ian's caramel macchiato, then proceeded to insist that this one is on the house. neither of them argued, but thanked her before they settled down in some stools by the window.

"fucking the barista privileges?" ian asked, raising his eyebrow at his slut of a brother.

"i think of it more like fellow south sider charity," he rubbed his bottom lip, "but yours works too," lip smirked around the edges of his coffee cup.

"you're an idiot."

"can a man who got us free drinks really be deemed an idiot?" lip philosophized.

ian paused, taking a moment of thorough consideration. he looked lip straight in the eyes as he answered, "if that man is you, then without a doubt."

lip tried to knock ian's cup out of his hand, but failed at his attempt. ian thanked his well-practiced jrotc skills and a lifetime experience of growing up in a house packed with annoying siblings for his victory.

they chatted about the robotics classes lip was taking, how he got full-time access to one of the labs, and his weird ass roommate who may or may not be gay if ian is at all interested. ian scrunched up his face. after hearing so many horror stories about the guy, ian didn't want anywhere near him. he wasn't that desperate yet.

the second that lip was out of his seat and heading to the bathroom, the beautiful mess that was mandy descended.

"hiiii lip's gay brother," she leaned against the table.

"it's ian," he spun his empty cup in his hands. he couldn't help himself from smiling at her charisma.

"well hi, ian, i just wanted to say sorry if i spooked you earlier. i just had no idea lip's brother would be so cute!"

"his ugly mug's not too hard to beat." ian laughed. "he got the short end of the gallagher stick, literally."

"cute and charming. you're funny, ian gallagher, i like you." she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a movement so soft compared to her rather frantic appearance. "come back here anytime and it's on the house, yeah? i work most evenings after three."

"oh. uh- okay," ian scrambled for words, "thanks."

she squeezed his shoulder once before lip returned with a rather obnoxious entrance.

"ayo mands, stop harassing him!"

ian ducked his head in embarrassment.

"oh, shut up! i'm just clearing your cups," she winked at ian as she left.

mandy was something else. but she was kind and good company. ian could get used to the chill atmosphere over the chaos of the gallagher house anytime. he might just take up her offer.

--

"you'd think with all the time you spend here, you'd be offered a scholarship or something by now." mandy sipped on her chocolate frappuccino as she laid her feet across ian's lap. he always made sure to come visit during her breaks at least twice a week during the past couple months.

ian shrugged, "guess they only had room for one gallagher."

mandy hit his arm in a way that hurt. lip was fucked if he ever broke her heart.

"does fiona even know that this is where you sneak off to?"

"yeah." mandy's look said she didn't believe him. "well, kinda. she thinks i'm visiting lip, brotherly duties and all."

"yeah? how are those brotherly duties?"

"fuck if i know."

she laughed.

"i still think you should apply here for next fall," she encouraged, "could take some art classes."

"i suck at art."

"chemistry?"

"failed that."

"business?"

"yeah, no thanks."

mandy flipped him off, "fine. botany?

"ya know what? sure." he had always wanted to grow tomatoes.

"really?!"

"heart wants what it wants, mandy. we can't all be psychology brainiacs."

"brains and beauty, what can i say?" she teased. ian laughed, eyes glistening towards his friend. mandy made things better.

"hey," she continued, "there's this concert on the main campus lawn this weekend, you should totally come!"

"isn't that just for students?"

"they don't card, dummy."

"right, right, i knew that."

"sureeee. you in?"

ian mentally checked his work schedule.

"i'm in."

--

lip and ian strolled into the café a few days later. okay, maybe ian had felt a bit guilty for abandoning his brotherly duties lately, but at least this way he could hang out with both his best friends. well he could have if he remembered the fact that mandy had the day off for her behavioral neuroscience midterm. they had literally spent her previous shift reviewing the terms, he should have known.

ian's couldn't help his face from falling as another blonde barista took their orders, mostly eyeing lip the whole time.

"hi lip," she smiled a little too sincerely, "what can i get for you today?"

ian had ordered something new at the recommendation of the blonde and he was not a fan. and to make matters worse, he had to actually pay for the atrocity that he wouldn't even be able to finish.

"so how's your little coffee dates with mandy?" lip asked over his cup.

ian nearly choked on his god-awful americano. "how'd you know?"

"please. she's obsessed with you. every time i see her, it's 'ian this,' 'ian that,' 'ian might apply here in next year.'"

"oh."

"yeah, oh. when were you gonna tell me?!"

“it’s all mandy’s idea, i’m not even sure i want to,” ian muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“dude, i’ve literally shared a room with you since the day you popped out of monica’s wretched womb, you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

okay maybe ian had been getting increasingly more excited about the idea of attending school and actually learning things that he wants to learn. something that might actually lead him somewhere real since rotc was looking more and more like a poor man's fantasy the more that he thought about it.

“I was gonna tell you, swear on it.” and he was. once he convinced himself that lip wasn't going to straight up laugh in his face. but the look in his eye seemed genuinely supportive.

“mhm, i gotta catch my english lit class," lip stood up, swinging his tattered tan backpack across one shoulder. he patted ian's shoulder in his big brother ways, "don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah for sure! have fun learning a language you already know!” lip flipped him off at his smartass remark.

soon after, ian stood up to return his drink to the counter, the anxiety from the conversation making him entirely lose whatever appetite he might have had. plus, it wasn’t the same here without lip or mandy. he just wanted to be wrapped up in a cocoon in his own bed. but that was so far away. maybe he could catch an early ride—

thump.

ian crashed into a guy’s sturdy body.

the remnants of his shitty drink spilled in an americano nightmare over both of them, ceramic pieces shattering on the floor in a truly horrific manner.

ian yipped and the other man let out a grunt of irritation.

they were fucking soaked. well, at least the coffee wasn't hot? ian tried justifying the situation, but, nah, this was bad.

"shit! i'm so sorry, lemme," ian reached out and the shorter man flinched away.

they were now far enough apart that ian got a good look at him. a leather jacket.. now covered in ian's drink -- shit. and shockingly piercing blue eyes that lingered too long on ian's before his cheeks turned a shade of pink that made ian's stomach flutter.

he might have seemed cold if he didn’t make ian feel so warm.

"it’s cool, man. i gotta go, uh," and he walked out of the café without looking back.

fuck.

ian smelled like coffee the entire train ride to the back of the yards. he laid in his bed regretting his entire life.

no mandy. no lip. no dignity.

--

the day of the concert that mandy had invited him to rolled around. ian wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous to spend a coffee-less evening with mandy, their entire friendship built inside that one room. his little bubble of safety was bursting.

well, to be honest, the bubble had burst the moment that his disaster of a coffee was spilled onto one of the most ridiculously pretty guys that he's ever seen. every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the guy’s face shift from hostile to something else. he was torn between wanting to know the his name and also on never seeing him again in fear that he would simply pass away of embarrassment.

hopefully mandy hadn't heard about it. they may not have been friends for a long time, but he already knew that she would never let him live it down.

"hey ian!" her familiar voice called. that sounded promising.

his face fell with relief as he finally spotted her at the corner. she embraced him in a warm hug before pulling back and giving him a once over.

"huh, could have sworn you'd still have coffee behind your ear or something after the description karen gave me of your little disaster the other day." she smirked, quite literally double checking behind his ears as they turned hot under her gaze.

"ugh, fuck, how much did she tell you?" he itched his forehead and scrunched up his nose.

"oh, calm your tits, it's funny as fuck." she giggled, punching his arm in a way that still unintentionally hurt.

"whatever. are you excited for the concert tonight?"

their reunion conversation lulled eventually, and ian noticed that they weren't necessarily standing alone.

no. fucking. way.

just his luck, if he was being honest. he probably deserved this.

there he stood. the man that has plagued his dreams the past few days. in a light wash jean jacket that was a little tight on the biceps, leaning casually against the wall, kicking the pebbles on the ground with his boot.

"uh, what's he doing here?" ian gestured towards the victim of The Coffee Incident.

“what, you know him?” mandy asked, walking them towards him.

“vaguely.” if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

"huh. i didn’t think my idiot brother had any friends."

brother? how did ian not realize she had a brother?

"what, did you think i was going to babysit you all night? i can't let everyone here thinking you're my boyfriend, no offense or whatever, but you're in good hands!" she kissed his cheek, clearly not helping her own not-looking-like-her-boyfriend rule.

ian eyed said brother's good hands only to see the faded letters of FUCK U-UP on them. oh.

mandy pushed ian over to her brother, "ian, mickey. mickey, ian," she introduced before pushing and shuffling her way through the crowd of college students to find herself someone’s cheap ass fruity alcohol to mooch off of.

mickey. ian's brain repeated over and over, a chime against the murmuring sea of voices they found themselves enveloped by.

"nice jacket," ian pointed out, an awkward attempt to converse before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"it's my second favorite." the corners of his mouth lifted like there was more to the statement. ian took the bait, as if he could resist.

"what's your first?"

"first is still airing out the fuckin’ coffee smell," he smirked as ian groaned. "oh c’mon, man, don't go crying over spilled milk."

how could he not? on the bright side, he didn’t seemed to hate ian for it.

“if it was anyone else,” mickey drawled, “they’d have to get a beat down for it.”

“why do I get a free pass?” ian mused.

“well, you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

“yup,” ian tried to suppress his disappointment. he really did. but fiona always told him he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“yeah, that ain’t why, though,” his eyebrows waggled suggestively and ian nearly felt his heart drop out of his ass.

ian blessed whatever coffee god was out there for sending him both mandy and the beautiful man in front of him.

“you wanna go listen to the band?” ian nodded his head towards the stage with passionate players jumping around like they were playing lollapalooza or some shit.

“lead the way, stud, just try to keep your drinks off of me this time,” mickey knocked into ian’s own flannel covered shoulder.

yeah, ian couldn’t believe his luck. maybe karma was finally on his side.

—

mandy smirked at her brother and best friend not-so-subtly checking each other out over the course of the night, bopping their heads to the music and downing whatever free booze they could get their hands on.

she hoped that adding mickey to the equation would be enough incentive to convince ian to stick around. things were better when he was near.

the way that ian followed mickey around like a lost puppy with that dopey moon-eyed look, it seemed like her hopes would come true.

and when both ian and mickey strolled into the café to come visit her at work the next week, mickey in his worse-for-wear leather jacket and ian in borrowed denim, she thanks the coffee gods for her luck.

[thezfc]

I find it curious that the nannies spend 98% of their time defending a rich and famous couple by browbeating ordinary (and yes sometimes stupid/bigoted) people. They scour the internet for any dissenting voice and then gleefully crucify them at length for being either horribly racist or dying of jealousy wanting to fuck tom. Because apparently you can’t be anything less than nauseatingly supportive of T&Z without being one or both of those things. Everything seems to devolve into a diarrhoea of why others are sub-human and can go suck it, enabling them to validate their own egos over and over again within an echo chamber.

There are strict rules - thoughts and words must be carefully policed for the safety of an unborn and (as yet) unconfirmed child. The nanny brigade categorically insist that the couple be left alone in peace and privacy, gently coddled by the warm glow of their fan base’s undying adulation and sycophantic praise (imparted from a safe and respectful distance of course, as specified by the handbook ‘Nanny Nonsense 101’). Meanwhile, the nannies themselves base their entire identity around tracking the couple at an infinitesimal level and defending their every movement in relentless onslaught of online seething that only serves to highlight the unwanted speculation/minority viewpoints. Fear not, the vigilant/vigilante nannies will patrol the internet and deftly kibosh rude or unhinged commentary by being equally rude and unhinged!

Now, it probably sounds like I’ve been burned by the nanny ninnies myself but tbh I know better than to try and engage with such bullshit. I’ve just been watching the shit show for my amusement and steadily losing respect for humankind. This morning, I saw there was some notion that crazed fans would track the couple to the hospital and demand copies of the birth certificate! All marbles are profoundly lost.

For me personally, this saturation of all things tom and Zawe has slowly transformed my ‘fan’ status into an intense disliking of the couple - frankly I’ve had to reach for the sick bucket one too many times at this point. My previous enthusiasm for any new updates on tom has been steadily chipped away at over and over, culminating in this latest nauseating crescendo, so that I now am dreading the pap shots that will no doubt emerge from their escapades in Suffolk this weekend.

So, I’m sitting here, excelling marvellously in avoidance of doing any work, wondering what I am most irritable about. Is it the sanctimonious hypocrisy of the nannies; is it cancel culture; is it the fever pitch hysteria around movements of a couple that I know for an absolute 100% fact to be astoundingly less loved up and kind and unassuming than they portray (baby in tow or not); is it that I can’t stand how two incredibly privileged people have inspired support of an online army (intensionally or otherwise) to bully others in their unnecessary defence; is it the cesspit that is the internet in general; is it PMT; am I racist against my own race; do I just want to fuck Tom; or am I just so bored at work at this point that I’d rather be annoyed about this than the spreadsheet I have to tackle in a minute? Unclear. But in any event, this diatribe of my own was so much fun I might even apply to be a nanny.

Alrighty then 😆

[mangodestroyer]

Well, I'm sure Aziraphale never experienced torture. But I think him being a principality would also give him a high pain tolerance. He may seem soft, but I'm sure he's been trained up to be tough if he needs to be (and was created to be a naturally strong individual). I'm not sure how they train principalities, but he's basically a Heavenly military unit. And yeah, I know. It's not what he wanted to be. It was decided for him. I imagine that can be its own kind of trauma. Human military training sucks ass from the sounds of it (I mean, I hear it can be pretty rough). Imagine how fucking cold and strict Heaven military training is?

Well, Crowley by contrast started off as such a sweet, open, and creative soul. An innocent angel who probably had more privileges and thought the universe was just a fun sandbox to play around in. And that other people were, um, reasonable. At least, not evil. Not strict enough either to toss him out for having questions and for being an "imperfect" angel (although, according to Neil, he's not always a reliable narrator and probably actually did something bad to warrant the fall).

And yeah, I know, he still has that sweet side to him. It's just been so repressed by years of trauma. I mean, he's been through a LOT. And forty years of torture is just... unimaginable! I mean, from Hell of all places too! And for something that would REALLY piss them off (he actually got off light for stumbling so badly as a demon; saving a soul from eternal damnation).

Idk, they say the humans can be surprisingly cruel by themselves. And they are! I learned the hard way, thanks to the internet, what some fucked up humans can do to each other (even in modern times, for which my teachers in grade school insisted when we were studying the dark ages, "We aren't like that anymore! Humanity evolved!", pft, yeah right!) But that's just the mortal plane. In Hell, they probably have all these magical tools for their "craft." And 6000 years to come up with some messed up shit. With demons who probably do this as their passion. And they can keep you alive and wide awake. Forever.

Yeah, I've never been a fan of Biblical Hell. No one deserves that. Not even the worst human beings to ever exist. But the thing is, it's not even just reserved for the "worst of the worst." It's for everyone Heaven doesn't approve of. And that would be the majority of the human population. And most people, while imperfect, aren't straight up evil (evil is when you ENJOY hurting others, yes, that kind of person does exist).

So yeah, no wonder Crowley is just... never really okay again after that forty years! No wonder he just goes straight to begging for holy water! That theory has to be one of the most disturbing GO theories imo (and this universe can be surprisingly disturbing if you think about it a lot). I don't really blame Crowley for being super scared of Hell and the other demons when he pisses them off. Or for wanting to always run off or avoid problems when they become too much. He's hit his breaking point a long time ago.

In fact, I think he's just straight up broken now. And seems very mentally ill at this point. I think the mental illness thing was more apparent in season two. He kind of comes off as someone who's just trying to live a normal life, but just can't. Idk, I kind of had a hard time watching season two because of it. Might be able to do so if I tried again, now that I'm used to it. And Aziraphale seemed a bit out of touch with it. I'm not saying that makes him bad or anything. He probably hasn't processed his own shit yet. It just seems obvious that Crowley is, um, not well?

Again, I just can't fathom 40 years of torture in Hell. How the fuck would anyone recover from that? In the real world, people can become super fucked up over far less. For life. I mean, if they intended on sending him out to be an agent again, would they have really gone all out with him? They need him to still be able to do his job and all. What good would a catatonic agent be? I mean, if he got sent back out after the fact, then that was probably a "warning." His only warning, I would assume. Something to really get the message through. But not "the worst."

Needless to say, I kind of hope that weird time skip is at least addressed a little in season three. It's leaving me with lots of questions and speculation. Maybe I'm overthinking it, idk. I just feel like it's kind of important though. I mean, it seems like it plays a huge role with Azicrow too. If that's the reason Crowley asked for holy water. Or why Crowley seems more avoidant now (well, more so after that 60's scene). I mean, Aziraphale was being more affection to him, and he was a little responsive. But he actually seemed kind of... not that responsive to it. Almost a little oblivious to it. And also had a weird resource guarding moment over letting Azi use his car (an angel he loves more than anyone, and I know cars are very treasured possessions, but the Bentley is sentient and very capable, and Azi is also capable). And also chose to live in his car despite not liking it (when he could have just lived in the bookshop).

I'm way too into this. I agree. Crowley needs so many hugs! Actually, I sometimes just want to take him somewhere safe where he can never be hurt again. And so he doesn't have to deal with that fucked up world he lives in anymore.

I will never tire to watch this scene.

Aziraphale acts like a normal person but Crowley reacts like he has been shot by a bloody shotgun or a fucking sniper. He is so damn dramatic, my poor bitch

It's just a lil ball of paint, love 😭 please chill

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Fake dating au where demetris on his third strike with the school counselor so when they're about to fight again he holds his hand instead. Hawk cant help but blush and counselor Blatt jumps to conclusions and tries to be overly accepting

PFFFFT okay this is fuckin great

Like I’m just imagining Demetri doing the PETTIEST bullshit to get back at Hawk for that destroying-his-science-project business, like he writes “COBRA KAI SUCKS” all over his locker in sharpie in cleverly-disguised handwriting or pours soda on Hawk’s karate equipment and tough dude sportsballs (because come ON--Eli’s had the same locker combination for years, and just because he’s badass now doesn’t mean it would occur to him to change it) or steals his portable hair gel so that the ‘hawk will be sad and sagging by 6th period, and as soon as Hawk catches on to what’s going on, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out who’s behind all this chicanery. And he fuckin goes RIGHT up to Demetri during the next passing period (he knows exactly what part of the school that little nerd is in because he figured out and memorized Demetri’s class schedule SOLELY for harassment purposes and not because he likes him or anything) like “BRO YOU WANNA GO YOU WANNA FUCKIN GO” and Demetri gets ready to fight like “COME AT ME ASSHOLE” and Demetri’s getting ready to throw the world’s meanest punch to start the brawl (because his douchebag ex-best-friend ain’t the only one who can strike first) when the accursed Counselor Blatt rounds the corner.

She turns and fixes an icy glare right on them, and Demetri has to think fast. He unclenches his fist mid-punch and wraps a hand around Eli’s wrist. Eli’s hand flexes out in surprise, and before he can react, Demetri’s fingers have found their way up his wrist and laced with his own. Hawk’s face goes redder than his (already, sadly, beginning to sag) mohawk.

And fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hawk was absolutely not prepared for this. He absolutely was not prepared for the same goddamn helpless sensation of vertigo to hit as that time he held Demetri’s hand during Red Rover in the 6th grade (how in the hell did a couple of losers like them get invited to play, anyways? The teacher probably made the other kids include them or something). And Hawk fucking hates how warm and pleasant Demetri’s hand feels in his own, and how it fills him with the same hopeless longing that he hoped he could punch away into oblivion as soon as Kreese started training him.

But here comes that stupid-ass counselor, and something tells him that now is not the time to yank his hand away and slam Demetri into the lockers behind them, no matter how much he would like to.

“Demetri? Eli?” Counselor Blatt looks back and forth between the two of them, perplexed. “What’s this?”

“What’s what, Counselor Blatt?” Demetri pulls Hawk closer and swings his other arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders. Hawk can only bristle in barely-concealed rage.

“Did I just...see you about to punch Eli?” she continues. “When you’ve been to our seminar on respectful alternatives to physical aggression?”

“Oh no, you misunderstand!” Demetri laughs, and Hawk wants to smack him. God, his laugh is annoying. He’s annoying. Hawk wants to scream into a wall and he’s not sure why.

“I was just in a hurry to hold my boyfriend’s hand,” he goes on gleefully. “I haven’t seen him all day! Is that okay with you, Counselor Blatt?” He gives the counselor a challenging stare, and Hawk almost feels sorry for the woman and how utterly lost she is.

“I thought you were upset with Mr. Moskowitz here for ruining your science project,” Counselor Blatt says slowly.

“Oh, that?” Demetri snorts. “We were just on a little break. I think that was my indication that good ol’ Eli wasn’t taking it too well. But we worked everything out, and it’s alllll good now!”

He gives the counselor his most winning grin, and Hawk just turns to gape at him. Out of all the absurd directions Demetri could’ve taken this thing, framing him throwing a soccer ball across the cafeteria to smash Demetri’s project as a couple’s fight was one Hawk had not seen coming.

But then again...that did kind of let him off the hook, didn’t it? If all of his messing with Demetri was nothing but silly relationship drama. After all, Counselor Blatt hadn’t lifted a finger when the utter spectacle that was Kyler and Sam LaRusso’s breakup had ravaged the school’s gossip chain.

“You know, you really should be more accepting of LGBT relationships,” Hawk says, making a point to pull out the kicked puppy expression. “It’s hurtful enough that my boyfriend and I get as many stares as we do from other students.”

“I...! Well! I mean!” Counselor Blatt splutters, looking everywhere but their eyes. “I think it’s great you boys are able to...express yourselves so freely! I want this school to be an environment where students of all sexualities are able to be themselves. I’m so happy West Valley High is such a diverse place!” She smiles, brightly but still very confused.

“With all due respect, Counselor Blatt, we’re not just some token gay couple.” Hawk doesn’t let up on the puppy dog eyes. “We’re just two guys who love each other. That’s all. All we want is to be accepted for who we are.”

He feels Demetri stiffen beside him with surprise, but the grip on his hand and around his shoulder doesn’t loosen in the slightest.

Demetri’s really acting like he doesn’t want to let go. He’s really committing to this façade.

Makes sense. When they were in middle school, Demetri always tried to be the class clown--not that it ever worked. Eli would always cheer him up by insisting he had a natural talent for improv. The kid isn’t half bad at acting, he’ll admit.

“And...you are accepted!” Counselor Blatt reassures awkwardly. “I’m...sorry I misunderstood your relationship, boys. I should be better about checking my heterosexual privilege.”

“Not to worry!” Demetri says cheerily. “Anyone who works at being a good ally to the community is always appreciated!”

Hawk resists the urge to roll his eyes. What was this, a fucking gay Sesame Street episode?

“Sorry again, Demetri. Eli. Have a nice day.”

As soon as Counselor Blatt shuffles around the corner and out-of-sight, Hawk tears his hand away (as...reluctant as he admittedly is to do so. Feeling another hand curled around his made him feel calmer and safer than he had in months, no matter what utter pussy’s it was. Disgusting. Kreese would never train him again if he found out, that was for sure.). He shoves Demetri hard--not into the lockers, not in any way that’ll make a noise to be noticed, but enough to knock the wind out of that fucking runt.

“What the fuck was that?” Hawk snarls.

Demetri crosses his arms and glowers at him. “I just saved both of us from a month of detention. It was only so long before she figured out Cobra Kai’s the aggressor around here just as much as Miyagi-Do is.”

Hawk surges forward and tries to shove him again, but Demetri is ready this time and quickly blocks. “What the hell was your grand plan, anyways?” he scoffs. “Pick a fight with me in the middle of the school day?”

Demetri sighs, starting to back away. “Eli, Eli, Eli. I know you’ve got a good brain in there, buddy. Maybe start using it, if all the punches to the head haven’t messed it up too much.”

He taps his head a couple times before turning and disappearing into the throng of students around them. Hawk groans.

Mitch doesn’t make matters better as they walk away. “Dude, were you blushing?”

“Shut the fuck up, man! I was just fucking embarrassed!”

Bert sniggers. “I’ll say. Should I start planning the wedding?”

“Don’t make me fucking deck you! Look...he wanted to stay out of trouble, and I realized I could spin it to our advantage. So I did. We’re in the clear for now.”

“Yeah, only took a bit of...hand-to-hand combat,” Mitch snickers. “What’s next? Judo wrestling him in the janitor’s closet?” He and Bert break out in giggles, and Hawk shoots them both his most seething glare.

“If you mention any of this to Sensei Kreese, I will kill you,” Hawk growls.

“Fair enough,” Mitch says, shrugging. Bert nods in agreement.

Hawk reminds himself to wail especially hard on both of them during practice today.

[whitetrashjj]

most people that don’t like kie don’t like her because she

1. gets mad at JJ when he calls her out for being rich

2. prioritizes john b constantly because whatever feelings she has towards him gave her tunnel vision

3. tried to guilt-trip pope into missing his scholarship interview despite the fact that, like he said, she wasn’t there for any of them when big john went missing

4. talks about the gold, pope’s scholarship, and things that happen to the boys because of them living in the cut as if it’s okay to just toss them aside when it’s only okay to do that for her- seeing as she doesn’t need the money, and she doesn’t need a scholarship. the only thing that makes her a pogue is that she decided to hang out with them, which is fine but she can’t act like she goes through what people on the cut do seeing as she doesn’t actually live there or go to their school. these things are only expendable for her.

5. she tried to fight pope on the boat because he rightfully called her out on her “moral high ground bullshit”

6. she gives off performative activist. she’ll talk about saving the turtles but when jj is clearly hysterical or something with his buying a hot tub using his share, she says he could have “literally given it to any charity” as if he isn’t quite literally the charity… even without seeing the bruises it’s clear that jj is in an unstable environment with someone who doesn’t care about him and can’t support him financially.

7.she doesn’t sympathize with jj until after the jj/pope/kie hot tub group hug when she sees his bruises. she just ignores whatever he says when he mentions her financial privilege and insults him in a non-friendly way. (he insults her too obviously, but since the show never goes in depth to discuss kie’s struggles as a biracial girl or pope’s struggles as a black boy, it’s not something that jj can randomly sympathize with, seeing as it’s never brought to light. if it was brought up and jj were to react like she’s being annoying for pointing it out or pointing it out to spite him, i would have major problems with jj because acknowledging whatever privilege you have is important, especially when you’re with people that don’t have that privilege/when you’re someone whose character is supposed to be the activist type. and i’m not equating racial privilege to financial privilege, i’m just mentioning it because classism is pretty much the basis of the entire show and its plot.)

anyway… this is the reason i’ve seen most jjpopes dislike kie. mentioning the “kiara sucks” anon as if that is a blanket statement of all jjpopes is strange. we aren’t some raging misogynists out to get her, but you saying that pope is a very flawed character with no examples to back it up but also getting irritated when someone says kiara sucks with no examples to back it up is ridiculous. these are examples. since this is in response to your response to that ask, i’ll also add that while your experiences as a queer person are valid, they aren’t universal (“Any queer person knows that you can’t be as forthcoming and open about our affections as straight people are.”)

i get where you’re coming from with saying a regular character might not be outward about his feelings, but jj is not a regular character. jj is a nothing-to-lose kind of character, so your reasoning for why those many displays of affection throughout the show weren’t intended to be romantic just doesn’t really add up? of course he values pope’s friendship and wouldn’t want to risk it, but it’s also evident that he’s a very good liar and could easily say he was joking or wasn’t trying to seem like any of his actions were romantic, something you can also probably understand/have experienced as a queer person. your very statement that jj is someone who flirts with anyone is counterproductive to the statement that that means he doesn’t have feelings for pope. he flirts with every girl, but he can only form a lasting bond while also doing things you’d normally do with a crush, with pope. a lot of jjpopes including myself think he’s gay, and comphet/trying to prove to yourself that you’re straight by engaging in meaningless hookups (like jj) is reason for that headcanon. i get what you’re saying for other characters, but there’s no indication of jj not having that same nothing-to-lose attitude when it comes to people he has romantic feelings for, so there would be no reason for the pull-back or hesitation that you mentioned. and since he knows pope and his connection (whether it be platonic or romantic to both of them) is so strong, he probably assumes nothing could break that bond/dynamic either way.

also no one called you anti-black or implied that you were for saying pope is a flawed character, but it would be surprising to see one that isn’t rooted in that because all of them in the past have been- this fandom is wildly colorist and homophobic (another reason representation like jjpope is so important) and it’s extremely hard to find someone that doesn’t like pope without an explanation for their dislike that isn’t rooted in racism. that’s just common sense, though.

You know, I've been looking at this ask for a long time just wondering if it's worth my time to address all of this - like I didn't realise one could send asks this big. But I'm bored and got a beer in me so fuck it let's go.

So first let's talk about the reasons you hate Kie. I'm gonna admit that I to think she is flawed, like every other obx character, she is also a victim to bad writing and under developed. But also I just do not understand how people can hate her or insists that she is a bad person, don't get me wrong sometimes you just don't vibe with a character and there is nothing wrong with that but hating them and tearing them down is a very different thing.

Now I've said this before but let me reiterate. Not liking a character or ship or preferring one over the other does not automatically make you racist, misogynistic or homophobic. But I do think it is important to take a step back and assess our motivation and perhaps internalised biases. Sometimes you will find that you reasoning is without much substance and realise that you have some things to work on, sometimes even though mentally you don't have the conscious block there is something internalised about that - I know I have been subject to that. This doesn't make you a bad person, and you don't have to force yourself to like it or anything, but just be aware and sometimes it's okay to just remove yourself for the conversation because the people who do like it aren't supporting something that is morally corrupt and it doesn't have to be the subject of discourse. People can like different stuff.

So:

1. Did you mean pulls faces when JJ calls her rich? Cause that's what she does, gets a little annoyed, pulls a face but doesn't say anything because she know he's got a point. I'm very confused about you definition of angry and perhaps be careful about perpetuating the 'angry black woman' stereotype.

Also, I think it's important to note that clearly the kooks vs pogues divide has pretty much abolished the middle class, and you are either lower class or 'rich'. The Carrera's very clearly still struggle with money and are not on the same level of kooks as the Cameron's. So yeah, I think she's justified to roll her eyes at JJ saying she's rich as fuck and doesn't need money.

2. Prioritizes John B because his dad's gone missing, he's been abandoned by his guardian, is being threatened with being taken away from his home and everything he knows and is in general spiralling? Yeah. What a fucking monster. Also, I find it hard to find a justification for Kie having canon romantic feelings from John B that isn't just born from heteronormativity - her caring about him and then getting kissed by him does not equal a love match.

3. It wasn't about missing the interview - which wasn't until the next fucking day - it was about not giving up looking for their friend who was in a really bad way. Like - you cannot say that getting a scholarship when you are 16 is more important that John B's actual life being at stake ?

The fact that she wasn't there when John B went missing wasn't relevant? Like I've talked about why I hate Pope in this scene. But like, Pope is saying 'um you can't call me out on being a bad friend now cause you were a bad friend then'. That's the point, Kie caring so much about John B is rooted in guilt cause she wasn't there, and now she's trying to be there and support him, to prove that she's a better friend now. That's she's different, because she is.

4. I would love some specific examples of her brushing this stuff off like it means nothing. Other than the boat scene which once again, justified. And once again, Kie isn't destitute at all and no she doesn't fully understand the struggles of the boys or the cut but her family is not rolling in it and spending weekends on Yachts. Like this point is such a bloody reach.

5. I don't love that she got physical with him either. But she didn't do that because she got called out. She got upset because Pope was the one person she confided in about that happened during her kook year, about how bad it was, about the fact that she was suicidal and Sarah saved her and that's why she was so drawn to that, not because she wanted to be a kook, and Pope just throws that back in her face because he's jealous that Kie cares more about John B's problems than his.

6. Well this is just a misrepresentation of what happened. She said give it to any charity because in that moment it seemed like without a reason JJ just blew that money on stupid shit. Pope thought the same thing that's why he yells at him for not using it for restitution. In that moment he just seems like he is being drunk and irresponsible, because they didn't think he would go back to Luke, Pope literally says that he wouldn't. And then note how when they see the bruises they know what happened and the tone instantly changes cause they realise what happened. And that he did try to do the right thing and got flogged because of it. And she is right in there to comfort him and reassure him. So like... yeah.

7. Please give me example for this. I don't see Kie insulting him that isn't a justified call out or playful banter that is returned and part of their push and shove dynamic. You know... just being friends.

The only times we see Kie react to JJ's home life she is concerned and sympathetic. She's the only one who's worried about JJ going home when he storms off and is instantly there to comfort him when she knows he's had interaction with Luke. I really don't know where you are getting this from.

I don't use it as a blanket statement, I know not to group shippers in as one, I know there are jiara shippers that I do not see eye to eye with for a second. The reason I bring up the 'kiara sucks' thing is because of the context it was used. We weren't talking about Kie, it wasn't relevant, it had no reason to be there or anything to back it up. It was random bitching and as you say fandom is a very racist place so yeah, it seemed like racism to me. Like you realise you are calling me ridiculous for being annoyed that someone just came to me and said Kie sucks without reason, and then this ask goes onto be annoyed that I have some issues with Pope and that more than likely racist for thinking it because you've elected to ignore my massive post outlining my stance on this.

My experiences as a queer person are not universal, no. But I do know they are very common. I'm so thankful that there are people out there who don't experience this and I hope that in the future it will be the norm. But realistically, with what we know about JJ, I think it is more than likely that would be his experience.

Look if you headcanon him as gay say the things with girls is comphet, then that's your view and I won't fight you on it. But remember that that is a headcanon. And what I have been talking about is were they intentionally setting up jjpope and are those actions indicative of romantic attraction, which if they we're they would have made a point to frame it as comp het, which they didn't, they might in the future but for now - they aren't. In terms of being a good liar, I just- like gay panic is a very strong thing. There young girls who tell everyone they don't like hugs because they actually really liked the hugs and feel like people will know that they are gay if they hug their friend, a hug. I can't see 'I'm a good liar' being enough to overcome those sorts of feelings.

The thing is while JJ has a nothing to lose attitude when it comes to his life and future the same doesn't apply to his relationships, because the Pogues are his thing to lose, his only family, the one good thing. I can't see him just saying fuck it I could risk losing Pope. So I can't agree with you there.

First of all, I was called anti-black for not liking Pope, despite the fact that I don't hate him, and just had valid reasons for thinking he is flawed, not the devil incarnate. Two, I am well aware that this fandom is racist, like all fucking fandoms, and have talked about it. And I think that fact that I don't hate Pope and laid out very clearly the reasons I don't think he's some perfect angel that does no wrong kinda shows that I'm not just random bitching because he's black. Also - I'm a fucking Kie stan. I have to deal with people hating on Kie for the same reasons they love Sarah - it's very obvious to see people motivations there.

And you are right. An interracial mlm ship would be great representation. So would an interracial ship between the hot guy that everyone loves with the black girl - because doesn't he always end up with the white self insert? But reminder that ships don't automatically have superiority because they have 'better' representation and certainly does not represent a shipper 'wokeness'. Personally I think a platonic relationship between two men that are as close and physically affectionate as JJ and Pope - especially when one is so traditionally masculine as JJ, especially if one or both of them could be queer - would be great representation for young boys struggling with toxic masculinity.

So yeah, I think your reasons for hating Kie don't have much basis in canon. I do not give if you like her or not but.. hating her and trying to prove that people shouldn't like her, that she's not good enough for JJ and coming into my ask and putting her down for no reason, still does not sit right with me.

[queers4years]

Tumblr has this nasty habit of viewing things as black and white. As a human being (particularly a minority) you don't have an obligation teach someone about social justice. But if you're an activist you SHOULD make an effort to educate (on your own terms). People don't start off perfect, and expecting that from everyone is ludacris. The purity culture of the left is going to get us killed. If you totally obliterate someone who made a minor mistake or who wants to talk about something before looking it up- that person may just totally give up on the cause. And thats when alt righters swoop in promising not to yell 'google is free!' While they calmly and sweetly endoctriante people

Bro (talking about a girl he’s interested in): She’s pretty cool. But kinda intimidating. She hates—well she doesn’t hate men but she hates the…man thing. Me: …penis?

Bro: No. The—the thing. The bad cultural thing. The paternal thing. 

Me: Ohhh. The Patriarchy?

Bro: That’s the bitch.

Me: I feel like we should probably not call the patriarchy ‘bitch.’ All things considered.

Bro: You right. See? This is why I’m stressed! What if I say something dumb like that in front of her!? Anyway. We’re going out again on Friday, I just gotta make sure I’m not patriarch-ing. Can you help me pick out what I’m going to wear? Feminists like flannel, right?

[qqueenofhades]

I was already distressed about the political and social situation in the US, and then this happens. Are there any examples of societies that fought back against fascism and won, without civil or international war breaking out? Surely there must be some success stories in history. How did other societies overcome fascism, are there lessons to be applied to our current situation? Please tell me we're not doomed, because I have no hope for the future.

Sigh.

Okay.

I’ve been through... a lot of the stages of grief by now. That is, rageposting on tumblr, venting to my friends via text, drinking, crying while drinking, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling, feeling the crushing weight of certainty that we’re all screwed and nothing matters, crying while talking to my sister, crying generally, lying in bed some more, and am currently still in bed while writing this, but am struggling to put on my internet historian aunt hat and offer some comfort to the stricken masses.

First off: This is bad. I’m not even going to pretend this isn’t bad. We all knew RBG had cancer again, but it was pretty fixed in our minds that she would somehow manage to hang on until after the election. 45 days before the biggest presidential election of all time, in the middle of this year, when names including Ted “Zodiac Killer” Cruz and Tom “Time for Roe vs. Wade to go, block federal funding from being used to teach about slavery, send in the military to crush the BLM protesters” Cotton have already been floated as some of her possible replacements? With Trump and McConnell determined to work as fast as possible to steal this seat as brazenly as they can, because they are literal fascists who don’t care about their own example (Merrick Garland was nominated in FEBRUARY of an election year and McConnell held it up for being “too close to the election?”)

Ugh. Anyone who doesn’t get that this is bad or acting like people are overreacting doesn’t get what’s at stake. And when, as we’ve said before and are saying again now, the future of everyone who isn’t a white straight rich Republican man in this country depends on an 87-year-old woman with cancer for the fourth time? Something’s wrong here. RBG’s death did not have to leave us in this total existential panic, and oh yeah, maybe this could have ALL BEEN AVOIDED AND WE COULD HAVE ALSO HAD THREE (3) NEW LIBERAL JUSTICES SECURING PROGRESSIVE LEGISLATION FOR A GENERATION IF SOME OF YOU HAD JUST FUCKING VOTED FOR HILLARY CLINTON IN TWO THOUSAND AND FUCKING SIXTEEN.

(Why yes I am still mad about that, I will be bitter until the end of time that we were consigned to four years and counting of this completely avoidable nightmare because of apathy, misogyny, and Leftist Moral Purity TM, but we’re talking about the future and what can still be done here, not what’s in the past.)

Anyway. Here’s the bright side, which admittedly sucks right now, but it’s been the answer all long:

VOTE.

You have to fucking vote, and you have to fucking vote for Biden/Harris. Everything that we’ve been talking about is no longer a hypothetical; it’s happening right now. This is not just some Awful Worst Case scenario, and it’s not somehow being spouted by privileged white liberals ignoring the struggles of the masses. (Viz: that awful fucking text post with its simpering self-righteousness: “are you punching nazis or just telling oppressed people to vote blue?” I hate that text post with a fiery passion and it’s the exact kind of morally holier than thou leftist propaganda that wouldn’t surprise me if it was generated by a troll farm in Krasnoyarsk.) My dad is disabled and lives on Social Security. Trump’s second-term plan to end the payroll tax takes SSID out by mid-2021, so... I guess that’s my dad fucked then. I’m a gay woman with long-term mental illness, no healthcare, no savings, no current job, and a lot of student debt. My sister has complex health problems and relies intensely on publicly funded healthcare programs. All my family have underlying conditions that would put them at worse risk for COVID (age, asthma, immune issues.) These are just the people IN MY HOUSEHOLD who would be at risk from a second Trump presidency. It says NOTHING about my friends, about all the people far less fortunate than us, and everyone else who IS ALREADY DYING as this nation lurches into full-blown fascism. That is real. It is happening.

Here’s the good news and what you can do:

Democrats are fired up and mad as hell, and they’ve already donated $31 million between the announcement of RBG’s death last night and today, and that number is climbing every second.

You can help by donating to Get Mitch or Die Trying, which splits your donation 13 ways between the Democrats challenging the most vulnerable Republican seats in the Senate. That also has raised EIGHT MILLION BUCKS in the less-than-twenty-four hours.

You can donate RIGHT NOW to Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, vote if your state offers early voting, request your mail-in ballot, or hound everyone you know to ensure that they’re registered.

You can call your US Senators (look up who they are for your state, ESPECIALLY IF THEY ARE REPUBLICAN OR YOU LIVE IN A SWING STATE OR ARE UP FOR RE-ELECTION IN 2020) and phone the Capitol switchboard at 202-224-3121 to voice your insistence that they respect RBG’s last wishes and refuse to vote on any Trump nominee until after January 2021.

The other good-ish news is that I woke up to an email from the Biden campaign this morning about how they’re well aware of this and they’re already on it. BUT WE CANNOT COUNT ON EITHER THEM OR THE SENATE DEMOCRATS TO BE ABLE TO STOP IT. Because Joe Biden is not president and the Senate Democrats do not have a majority, if the Republicans manage to rush a nominee and a vote and all 52 GOP senators vote for that nominee, hey presto, tyranny by majority, a SECOND stolen Supreme Court seat, and a 6-3 hard conservative majority for the next generation. Even if Roberts or Gorsuch sometimes defect on procedural grounds, Kagan, Sotomayor, and Breyer (who is also 82 and thus ALSO might soon be replaceable, thus resulting in an EVEN WORSE ideological swing) would be outnumbered on everything. This is terrible. I’m not even gonna pretend it wouldn’t be.

BUT:

If Joe Biden is elected with a Democratic Senate and House, IT MATTERS. It gets us off the fascism track, it gives us the ability to make progressive law and have it enacted without going to die in Mitch McConnell’s Kill Stack, it gives Biden the executive authority to nominate liberal judges and change Trump’s worst outrages on day 1, it stands as a huge example of a nation managing to reject fascism by democratic process, and while yes, we’d still have a terribly rigged Supreme Court, Democrats would control all the other branches of government and be able to put safeguards in place. The other option is outright fascism and the end of American democracy for good. This may sound alarmist. It’s not. It’s literally what the situation has ended up as, as all of us who were begging people to vote for HRC in 2016 saw coming all along.

So yes. That’s what you need to do, and what WE need to do. We need to make as much goddamn noise as possible, protest, contact elected representatives, make sure everybody pulls their weight and ferociously fights the promised attempt to ram through a new justice before Election Day, all that. But even if that does happen, THEN WE NEED TO FUCKING DONATE, ORGANIZE, AND VOTE FOR JOE BIDEN AND DEMOCRATS UP AND DOWN THE BALLOT. ALL OF US. NO EXCUSES. NO MORE TWITTER LEFTIST ECHO CHAMBERS. NO MORE. THEN, EVEN WITH A RIGGED SUPREME COURT, WE WILL ALL BE SAFER ON NOVEMBER 4TH AND CAN TRY TO FIX WHAT’S BROKEN.

The stakes are just too high to do anything else.

May her memory be a blessing, and a revolution.

[animentality]

All of y'all insisting your parents and grandparents being Republicans is a result of misinformation and the shrewd and careful calculation tactics of the devious and wickedly intelligent Republican party and claiming your parents are good people at heart, they've just been mislead through insidious foreign bot social media tactics are sorry, not relatable.

My mom was raised by Republicans and has been a progresive for decades by simple virtue of not being a fucking braindead idiot or an asshole.

She's a goddamn boomer who doesn't know how to install an app on her phone, yet she still doesn't fall for that QAnon bullshit or believe a single thing she hears on Fox News.

Sorry your parents suck, but trying to insist they were tricked into being racists is just a coping mechanism for the fact that the people you had the misfortune sliding out of are idiots, but worse, they're also assholes.

I'm sorry, y'all are gonna call me privileged or elitist for this, but whatever.

I find it sad that tumblr is trying to hock this rhetoric about like, JK Rowling and how oh nooooo, poor baby multi millionaire Jk Rowling was TRICKED into becoming a TERF.

or, it's not boomers faults theyre so susceptible to lies, I'm sorry.

It is.

These people are assholes.

Stop trying to defend your racist father. You can still love that stupid fuck, if you must, but don't try and defend him on Twitter by insisting "reasonable good and kind people can become Nazis."

You're wrong actually and your take is fucking stupid.

Tumblr as always never wants to accept any personal accountability, y'all think you're intellectuals for always blaming "systemic something."

Anthropology MA here!

I'm here to tell you that people suck ass. They're bitter and ugly selfish bastards who don't care, who are stupid and happy to be so, who are rotten to their core.

Trying to make some bullshit excuse about how social media makes people ignorant and stupid, wrong.

People use social media to validate their opinions.

If they're susceptible to radicalization, it's because they're stupid and were already prone towards radicalization.

Your stupid grandfather believing a news article by breitbart about how blacks are gonna roast white babies alive is braindead.

You can't blame systemic whatever or technological changes or the evils of social media.

It's stupidity.

It's literal stupidity.

Through out all of human history, human beings have shown themselves capable of reasoning, of deducing from existing evidence, of objectively problem solving.

When human beings stop doing that and believe whatever it is someone else is telling them simply because uhhh cultural traditionalism, guess what?

They're simply stupid.

Doesn't matter what era, what period, what dominating cultural views there are.

Human race has always had its idiots.

You're blaming the damn symptom, not the real disease.

You're defending people for believing and having blind faith in a flawed system.

In no human era is this acceptable.

Shut up about how old people don't know any better.

They're not fucking infants, they're just assholes.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Heheheh.....what if Sooga was a naughty boy for once and Kohga punished him by forcing him to wear a chastity cage 👁👁

Oooh, a BIT of an interesting one, given their skin tight clothing, but i do enjoy a challenge! 

Jealousy was a rotten emotion, and believe it or not, even someone as great as Kohga felt it. It shouldn’t have been anything that was that big of a deal, but for Kohga, it was. Kohga decided to join him during one of his fishing trips, more in support (seriously, HATED fish. Smelled like death, and was the only food that DIDN’T go with bananas). They were a couple now, more or less, so Kohga sucked it up, and joined Sooga. Five hours of nothing but sitting, smelling awful fish, and letting the salty sea air mess with his air. But hey, Sooga was happy, that was all that mattered. At least, he thought that was all that mattered. When Kohga left to go pick up some fruit (one of the Yiga clan members LOVED palm fruit, and they almost never got to have any), he came back to see Sooga talking with someone. It was no one important, but it bothered Kohga. He was some chubby man, talking it up with Sooga. He kept...touching Sooga. Kept gesturing to his biceps, to his core, and Sooga wasn’t repulsed.

Sooga just chatted away. Kohga didn’t even know what the conversation was about. Just that by the time he met up with Sooga, he heard the man say ‘You have such symmetrical features!’, all while feeling his arms. It wasn't the first time Sooga was treated like a piece of meat, hell, women went NUTS over him at bars and the like, but this was different. This was from a chubby MAN. Someone that, in theory, Sooga would find attractive. Even if it was an idle conversation, he didn’t care. He was the ONLY man allowed to touch him like that. And, get this, Sooga said ‘I’m flattered’. Who fucking cares if it was manners? What manners could you give to a damn HOMEWRECKER? One that could stand to shed a few pounds. Maybe a dip down a cliff would chip away some of those pounds. His thoughts must’ve been loud and clear, for Sooga FINALLY decided to say something.

“You want me to carry you, Master Kohga? You usually don’t float for this long.”

Kohga was SO mad, he didn’t even want Sooga to touch him. And yet, Sooga had NO idea why. Even as they walked back into their base of operations, Kohga refused to even look at him. Going so far as to lock himself in his room, and nearly slamming the door in Sooga’s face. One of the Blade master’s (who was always guarding his room) gave a small whistle.

“Never thought I’d see the day. Master Kohga, mad at YOU. How bad did you mess up?”

Sooga shrugged, genuinely at a loss.

“I’m not sure. Perhaps just the fact that he was out fishing with me today. I insisted he didn’t have to, perhaps he’s just mad he didn’t have a good time.”

The other shrugged his shoulders, leaning on the doorframe.

“Either way, I REALLY wouldn’t wanna be you right now, even if Master Kohga IS hot when he’s angry.”

Sooga decided to not acknowledge that, for the sake of not starting a fight and upsetting Kohga further.

“Just let me know if Kohga needs me.”

Little did he know, Kohga REALLY needed him.

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

Kohga was SO smart. So goddamn smart. After spending the night complaining to himself about the situation, he realized he couldn’t be mad at Sooga. Sooga was an absolute beefcake, of course he would get looked at, get groped like he was some hunk of meat at a butcher shop. That wasn’t Sooga’s fault. What WAS his fault, was not kicking that guys ass. But Sooga was too nice for that, too willing to please everyone around him. This required...disciplinary measures. And Kohga had just the thing.

“Sooga!”

It didn’t matter how far away they were from one another. Not even five seconds, and there was a knock at the door, before Sooga walked into his room.

“Master Kohga, you summoned me?”

“Yeah, close the door.”

Sooga obeyed, walking towards his Master. Kohga motioned for him to get on one knee, and Sooga obeyed. Kohga put one leg over the other.

“So. I’m guessing you’re wondering if I’m still mad.”

“Quite.”

“Well, I am. But not at you. Not at my precious little Sooga.”

Kohga grabbed onto his face, smacking his cheek just a BIT too roughly.

“I’m...not following, Master Kohga.”

“You remember that guy you were talking to yesterday? The fat guy?”

“Gotter, his name was.”

Oh, he remembered his name. Lovely. Precious. Now he had a name. Something for later. Kohga tried not to flip shit, before softly sighing. Easy, Kohga, easy.

“Yes. That guy. Did you...notice something odd, about that guy?”

He even gave Sooga a second to think. Sooga shook his head.

“Apologies, I didn’t. We merely struck up a conversation on food while I waited for you.”

Kohga had never felt so much self restraint. 

“Sooga...you try to be a good boy, I see that. You really...try.”

“Have I done something to upset you?”

Oh, he was acting stupid now. 

“Sooga...he was flirting with you. The whole time.”

Sooga was lost. He was expecting an apology, maybe some doubt. But his good boy appeared to forget his place. Because he, as straight faced as possible, spoke.

“I don’t think he was. I believe you’re just jealous, Master Kohga.”

He was going to show him some mercy. Maybe just a little bit of kindness for his blunder. But Sooga seemed to not even see the fucking problem. Kohga let go of his face, and gently smacked his index finger against his forehead.

“You shouldn’t have said that. You REALLY shouldn’t have said that, Sooga.”

Sooga opened his mouth to speak, before Kohga held his hand up, signalling him to silence. Kohga motioned for him to stand up, and Kohga followed suit, heading for his closet.

“I THOUGHT you were a good boy, Sooga. But you’ve been very, VERY bad. So, I’m going to fix that behavior, right now.”

Kohga finally got what he was looking for. He presented it to Sooga, who of course, looked lost. Kohga motioned for him to pull down the bottom part of his uniform, and he obeyed.

“Now, you’re probably wondering just what this is, Sooga. It’s a chastity cage. Since you think you can whore around, let some rando touch you when I’m not around, I’m not gonna let you have the privilege of getting hard. At all.”

Kohga tightened the straps around his hips, before finally zipping him up. Sooga stayed there, still and silent. As if being a good boy NOW would save his ass. Kohga zipped him all the way, and locked it, stuffing the key in his pocket. Sooga inspected it, clearly unsure what to make of it. It was essentially leather underwear- with a lock and key for reasons he clearly didn’t understand. It fit him rather snugly, and surprisingly enough, wasn’t very noticeable as he put his clothes back on.

“Are you happy now, Master Kohga?”

“Not yet, but I will be. Very soon, I will be.”

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

Sooga had no idea what had gotten into Master Kohga. After gaining his new present from him, he seemed back to his usual self. If anything, he was just far more affectionate towards him. Sitting on his lap, patting his cheek, and even praising him, even all throughout dinner. Was it any surprise that Kohga ordered him to take him back to his room, in order to take care of him? Absolutely not. Sooga thought everything was back to normal, as he was sitting here, kissing his Master’s neck, within the comforts of his bed.

“Aw, look at you, my Sooga. Such a pretty boy.”

Kohga didn’t seem to want to wait for long, and within mere moments, Sooga had started to suck and slurp at his cock, mumbling thank you’s the entire time. That was when he noticed the problem. He was usually on the floor, dripping with cum from his hardened cock. But his arousal was suddenly painful, forcing him into stopping, mainly from confusion.

“Master Kohga, I-i’m afraid I-”

“Can’t get hard. I know. You don’t deserve to get hard, not after the shit you pulled the other day. Now, I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?”

Sooga opened his mouth to argue, but chose silence. Surely Kohga would grant him mercy, right?

Wrong. Kohga pumped loads after loads of cum into his throat, pulling his hair, saying ‘i love you’, did EVERYTHING that he knew drove him crazy. But he wouldn’t get hard. Everytime he showed just the smallest hints of arousal, the leather pained him, forcing him to grow soft again. Sooga lost track of how many times he was forced to remain soft, even as Kohga just kept cumming. Kohga pumped another big, delicious load in his mouth, and Sooga squirmed in place, almost unable to enjoy it. Kohga pulled himself out of his mouth, chuckling as he patted his cheek.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Can’t my pretty boy get nice and hard for me?”

Kohga dug his heel right into his crotch, causing him to feel pinpricks of pain as his cock wanted desperately to get hard. Sooga was horny, honestly and truly, but he could NOT get hard. It was torture, it was agony. All of which, Kohga was enjoying.

“Sooga, up here, pretty boy.”

From a small chain, held the key for Sooga’s imprisonment. The thing that would free him this endless cycle of hell. He made a lunge for it, before it was quickly swiped from view, right into Master Kohga’s palm. Kohga clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Bad, bad boy, Sooga. Such a whore, you can’t even remember your manners.”

“M-master Kohga, I thought you liked it when I was hard.”

“I did. Then I realized, you’ll get hard for anyone. But since you’re mine, Sooga, I need to remind you of that. Your cock needs to be punished for wanting just some random guy we bump into.”

Kohga grabbed a hold of his throat, nice and tightly, and Sooga whimpered like a wounded animal. He LOVED it when Kohga choked him, right at that perfect spot, but the leather was keeping him from showing just how much he loved it.

“You let him touch you. You let him touch what was mine. And you’re going to pay-”

“Because you were jealous?”

Kohga would back hand him if he didnt have such a pretty set of lips. Kohga took a deep breath, before deciding to hop into his bed, hands behind his back.

“You want to keep being a bad boy, fine. Be a bad boy.”

“No no no! Please! I’m sorry!”

Sooga crawled up onto the bed like an apologetic puppy, whimpering as his body screamed for some type of release.

“I’ll be good! I’ll be a good boy! I promise!”

“Then I take it you want this key, then?”

Sooga ALMOST had the key that time. Almost had the thing that would finally let him cum for his Master Kohga. Kohga chuckled at his plight, clearly not in the mood to have a heart towards him.

“Alright. Grind against my dick. And say “I’m sorry I’ve been bad.”

Sooga did just that. He hopped onto his lap, grinding his ass right onto his master’s thick cock. The stupid leather was even keeping him from riding it, and just thinking about it made his cock ache against the leather, before forcing itself to grow soft yet again.

“I’ve b-been b-bad!”

“Again. In fact, keep saying it. Till it hurts.”

And hurt it did. Sooga kept saying those words till it was all he knew, as his cock hardened, softened, hardened, softened, in an endless, tortuous loop.

Sooga would NEVER be a bad boy, ever again.

[marril96]

Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: An encounter with a homicidal witch forces Rowena to confront painful memories.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Getting roped into helping Sam and Dean out with a yet another case wasn't how you'd planned to spend your afternoon, but it wasn't as if you were in a position to say no. Rowena, ever the helpful puppy (she resented the remark), said yes before Sam had even finished the question. She was prepared for a job as soon as her phone rang with his name flashing on the screen. So, as her girlfriend, you went with.

In all fairness, Rowena told you you didn't have to go. It seemed like a simple enough job; a witch case, if hex bags left by the victims' bodies were anything to go by. She could handle it without an issue. But you insisted on accompanying her. After all, the two of you had a deal — if one was headed into a possibly dangerous situation, the other was to go with as backup. No ifs. No buts.

The Winchester were well aware the two of you were a package deal. It wasn't an issue. In fact, they welcomed all the help they could get. Even if you had to force yourself into providing it.

The truth of the matter was, you hated hunting jobs. If it were up to you, you and Rowena would cut all contact with the brothers and their friends and live out the rest of your days holed up in your little home, leaving only on occasion for world-exploring vacations. It wasn't that you didn't trust your girlfriend; you did, sometimes more than you trusted yourself. You knew she could handle things on her own. She had, after all, done so for centuries, and would for many more to come. She was one of the most powerful witches around. If there was anyone who could wipe the floor with humans and monsters — even archangels — alike, it was her.

But the prophecy of Rowena's death at Sam's hands was still there. The two were friends (even if Rowena's pride opposed using the word), but accidents could still happen. Just because he didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to kill her, didn't mean he couldn't do it. You felt much safer being there with her than letting her out all on her own.

Sam was as good a man as a hunter could be. He treated Rowena well. He seemed to care about her as much as she cared about him. He was kind to her. Respected her. Valued her skills. Never talked down to her or mistreated her. Those days were behind them. Were it not for the prophecy, and, truth be told, for the fact that, as powerful as she was, Rowena always managed to get herself into trouble of some sort, you would have no issue staying behind.

So you put up with it. You bit your pride and helped out to the best of your ability. The sooner things were dealt with, the better; four helping hands were certainly better — faster — than two.

As far as cases went, this one was fairly easy. The witch was quite powerful, had done a good job at masking his presence, but it didn't take Rowena long to track him down. Latching onto a source of powerful magic was easy enough, and so was pinpointing its location. With her power unbound, there weren't many things that presented an issue.

This witch may have possessed great power, but he was no match for Rowena.

The house he was residing in was quite lovely. It was big, luxurious, built for power, for privilege, for envy of guests and passersby. It looked no different than the other houses in the neighborhood. This was a place of wealth, of power, and it showed.

As expected, the witch had protected his home well; it took Rowena half an hour to disable the wardings and magical booby traps he'd installed. Or the majority of them, at the very least. She warned you and the Winchesters to be careful. Sneaking into a witch's house was tricky business. Just because the coast looked clear didn't mean it was. For all you knew, the entire damn house was a giant trap.

Sneaking in was easy. Far too easy for this sort of monster. Which should have been a clue, a warning for you to be careful, but, instead, you let your mind wander to your home. Your warm, safe home. Where you would go soon, after all this was over, and you and Rowena would spend the evening cuddling in bed and teasing each other. Just a few more minutes, and you would be in the Impala, then at the bus station, and then at home. Sweet, sweet home.

Were you not absent-minded, maybe you would have noticed the witch's approaching footsteps, light as a ghost's. Maybe you would have noticed him sneaking up on Sam and Dean and hissing out a spell to throw them against the wall and incapacitate them. Maybe you would have noticed his hands reaching for you before finding yourself tangled up in his arms that held you against him in a firm, snake-like grip.

He was tall. Not quite as tall as Sam, but close enough. His body was lean, all muscle, thick and strong. He smelled like a strange mixture of spices — or rather herbs — and cologne; witch and man in one. Before you could utter a spell, his hand was over your mouth, fingers digging into your skin, manicured nails biting crescents.

"Don't even think about it, Rowena," he said as Rowena mouthed a spell, English accent deep in his voice. Posh, almost charming — almost, for every word of his oozed malice, cruelty. He sounded pleasant, but there was a note of something dark, something dangerous hiding behind it, creeping underneath the surface like a prowler. "I don't need incantations to get my magic working. I just have to think it, and…" Following his will, a painting slid from a wall. Fell down into a heap of splintered wood and glass. He chuckled, smug, too pleased with himself for his own good. "I'm not an animal."

Good for you, you thought, wishing so bad you could say it straight to his face. You get a fucking gold star.

Rowena swallowed. Held her head up like the queen that she was, proud, powerful. Not losing her cool for a single beat. "Let her go."

It was a command that left no room for argument, though you had no doubt the witch would try. Something told you the man had always been a rebel. Even when it worked against hs favor.

"What would be the fun in that?" His hold on you tightened. You groaned, uncomfortable, struggling to breathe. "I've got to say, you've changed quite a bit, Rowena."

Rowena swallowed. Sucked in a breath and put on that face you knew well — one of deception, of protection. A mask to shield herself from the world, from the danger that lurked around. From unpleasant memories she wished would stop plaguing her mind.

So she knew this witch. Why hadn't she said anything? Why had she kept/ it a secret?

"You remember me, don't you?" the witch said. You couldn't see his face, but you could picture a smirk as big as his pride adorning it. "It's been — what? Two hundred years? That's quite a while, but in sure you remember me somewhere in that clever little head of yours."

Rowena forced a smile. "Like you said, it's been a while."

"Really? I never forgot you."

Her eyes briefly connected with yours before falling to her feet. Color drained from her face, her usually rosy cheeks washed out, white as old, tattered sheets. Her fists clenched, knuckles taut, pale from the pressure.

The witch licked his lips, and your stomach turned with disgust. He said, "I remember you quite well. I admit, it was a bit hard to recognize you at first. You've gone through quite a change. What is it kids call it these days? A glow up. You've had a glow up."

Rowena avoided his eyes.

He continued, "Still, wasn't too hard to figure out it's you. See, I knew you were hunting me. I know all about you. Well, all about these two chuckle heads—" he gestured to Sam and Dean, who were glued to the floor, magic holding them down despite their resistance, "—but through my research on them I stumbled across you. You've done a good job at keeping a low profile. Gotta hand you that. But you've still got neighbors, and they love to talk."

Great. As if spreading rumors around wasn't enough; now your neighbors had snitched on you to an unhinged witch. Maybe a curse on the neighborhood was in order. There were a few you wanted to try out, if you managed to get out of this mess unscattered.

"I'm a bit disappointed, though," the witch said. "I mean, really — hunters? You're working with hunters? Seriously?" He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "And here I thought you were running from them. How the tides have turned." A beat, then, "At least your girlfriend's cute." His fingers tapped your cheek. "Does she know about us?"

You frowned, confused. What did he mean?

Rowena swallowed.

"She doesn't!" The witch all but beamed. "You didn't tell her? And you still brought her here? How could you, Rowena? Don't you think she deserves to know?"

You groaned, trying to get curses and insults out. Hating that you couldn't.

"I know, right?" he said condescendingly. "I'd be mad, too."

You weren't mad — not at Rowena, at least. Whatever it was that had happened between them, you were sure she had good reasons to keep it hidden. She was a flawed creature, bratty, dramatic, but she was a good girlfriend. She didn't lie to you. Would never do anything — not on purpose — to harm you or your relationship.

"What was it Catriona called you? Raggedy Ann?" The witch pretended to ponder on it. "Not so raggedy anymore, are you?"

Catriona Loughlin? He knew the Loughlins?

"I knew you were hot. She and her brothers laughed at me when I told them about us, but there's proof right here—" he pointed at Rowena; at her curls that fell down her shoulders like streams of silky fire; at her white blouse with one button undone, leaving just enough for a taste of naughty thoughts; at her dress pants and pumps, which teased imagination, let it run wild "—I was right. You are hot. When you take a bath."

Rowena flinched as if struck. Grit her teeth. Squeezed her fingers into fists so hard the skin of her knuckles turned white as the bone underneath it.

"Catriona told me I should've fucked a pig instead. Would've been cleaner." The witch shrugged. "Maybe so, but I didn't really mind the filth so much. It was disgusting, yes, but you more than made up for it. Y'know, I think you're one of the best I ever had. I can say that without shame now." He licked his lips. Closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the memory. "You were exquisite."

"Motherfucker!" you exclaimed — or tried to for it came out as a distorted mumble. You son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you! If only you could say it. If only you could scream it, loud and clear, straight in his face as your magic gnawed at his skin, tore him apart from the inside, fueled by the rage that boiled with you. A rage that twisted and coiled and burned like a volcano nearing an eruption. That begged to be let free to swallow him, to obliterate him.

You pushed against his arms, tried to tear free. Tried to sink your teeth into the soft, meaty flesh of his palm. But no matter how hard you fought, he kept you in place with ease. His laugh, a mocking, taunting melody, rang in your ears.

"Easy, girl. No need to be jealous. It was a long time ago. But do tell, is she still excellent in bed?"

"Fuck you!" Another mumble.You hated it. Hated yourself for being so weak to fight him off, to free yourself from his deadly grip. I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you, you sick, twisted mother—

"I'll take that as a yes."

Rowena swallowed a lump in her throat. Held her head up, brave face on. "You know what they say. Why fix something that isn't broken?"

"True," the witch agreed. "True. She's a lucky girl."

At least one thing he was right about. He had no idea how much; how lucky you were, how privileged, to be with Rowena.

"God, you were so great. So tiny, but so skilled. I thought you'd just do it to get it over with, but you enjoyed it as well. I saw it in your eyes. You were having so much fun."

She flashed that smile that feigned nonchalance and hid the turmoil, the utmost hurt coiling inside of her. "It's a shame you didn't put in nearly half the effort. It was an encounter for mutual benefit. I'd done my part. You…" She clicked her tongue. "There was plenty left to be desired."

The witch's hands stiffened around you. His heart jumped, the vein on his neck thudding loudly against your scalp. "Such a tease, aren't you?" he said in nonchalance you would have bought as genuine had you not felt his body's reaction to Rowena's comments. Everyone had a weakness. He might have pretended otherwise, but he wasn't invincible. Magic couldn't protect him from wounded pride.

"I'm serious, Janus," Rowena said, and meant it. No more pretend. No more lies. "I've had plenty of partners, and none have been as… inexperienced as you. Was I your first? You poor dear. I'd say it was an honour, but it truly wasn't."

Janus gulped down a lump that blossomed in his throat. "You're real funny." Rowena shrugged innocently. He looked down at you. "Is she always this funny?"

She's absolutely hilarious, you wanted to say.  Instead, what came out was a gargle of words that didn't resemble your uttered "Fuck you" in the slightest, though you were pretty sure the look on your face have away exactly what you said.

"I do believe one thing," he said. "You've had plenty of lovers. Even back then you reeked of usage — along with general filth. You'd given birth, hadn't you? I could tell." He winked. "Trust me."

Rowena, bless her, took it in stride. "So you say."

"I'm not lying."

He was. You could feel it.

"Okay," Rowena said with a shrug.

He grit his teeth. "I'm serious."

"As am I."

"You're more confident than you used to be. That little ragdoll that showed up at my door was weak. Her favourite word was 'please.'" He smirked. "God, I loved that 'please.'"

"She's had centuries of growth," Rowena said. "You're right in that she was weak. She wasn't proficient at using her wits. But, as you've already established, she's changed. She's smarter now. Have you heard of a wee thing called distraction?"

"Wha—"

The word fell silent in Janus's mouth as a gunshot, loud, deafening, echoed. Blood gushed in a spray of crimson, staining your shoulder and cheek. His hold of you loosened and you instantly wriggled out, pushing him off. His body collapsed like a sack of potatoes, limp, motionless. Red seeped out of/out his temple, staining the fine, white carpet underneath him. Filling it up, making it swell with it. His eyes were wide open; they stared up, into the ceiling, into open space. Into Heaven and Hell themselves.

"You okay?" Sam asked, a gun clutched tightly in his hands.

"I-yes," you stammered. Your ears were ringing, but you weren't injured. You weren't harmed. You swallowed a large breath. "That was… intense."

"Good shot, Sammy," Dean said.

Sam nodded with an awkward smile. His eyes shifted to Rowena. "Are you okay?"

A flicker of pain crossed her face, but she quickly smoothened her expression into one of pride, of utmost dignity. "Never better."

The brothers bought it. You knew better, but decided to keep it to yourself. There would be time for talking later, when you were alone, and, preferably, away from a corpse.

"Are you sure you're okay, Y/N?" Rowena asked, and that was sincere. She looked you over in concern. A mother cat appraising her young, checking them for injuries.

"I'm fine." You squeezed her hand in emphasis. Her fingers tightened around yours, held tight. An unspoken promise that she was there, that, no matter how hard it was or how badly it hurt, you could count on her.

You appreciated it. You needed her. And, more important than that, she needed you. Parts of her past were a touchy subject; to have it dredged up in front of everyone so casually, used as a weapon against her… It had to hurt. She pretended it didn't, but you knew her better than that.

The brothers had taken care of the body in a matter of minutes, and it wasn't long before the four of you were on the road, heading straight for the Bunker. The ride was silent to an almost uncomfortable degree. Dean made a few quips here and there, annoying Sam. Finally, sensing the gloom in the air, he put on some music you weren't a fan of, but you still appreciated something to focus on. Something other than that horrid man's hands holding you in place as his wicked tongue tore into Rowena. It was the last thing you wanted to think about.

You laid your head on her lap for the reminder of the trip. Instinctively, she started caressing your cheek. Rubbing your shoulder. Running her fingers over your skin in invisible doodles. A little game you appreciated, you craved more than ever. I cherish you, every touch said. I love you. Your heart swelled with reciprocation.

Not many words were exchanged at the Bunker, either. The two of you wanted to head home, but the brothers convinced you to stay for the night. It was late, they said. You were both tired and needed rest. It was a hard fact to argue with, so you accepted.

The room they gave you was small and cosy. Nothing special in terms of decor, but good enough. Perfectly acceptable for a sleepover. It wouldn't be fair to complain; you were guests, after all. The brothers were doing you a favor.

You'd just gotten out of a shower, clad in one of Sam's old shirts that fell to your knees like a dress, when Rowena said, "I didn't enjoy it."

She was on the bed, in an oversized shirt herself, having had her shower right before.

"What?"

"Janus. I didn't—I didn't enjoy being with him. I had to."

"You don't have to ex—"

"You deserve to know the kind of woman you lay in bed with every night." Redness rimmed her eyes. She blinked the tears away, willed them back. "After the Loughlins threw me out, I went in search of a new hideout. The British Men of Letters were after me. I was weak and scared. I'd heard rumors of another powerful witch residing nearby, so I sought him out."

A nervous smile flickered over her mouth.

"At first, like the Loughlins, he wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn't the kind of witch he was interested in helping. But when I made him the same offer, he accepted."

"Rowena—"

She shook her head, cutting you off. "It was horrid, but I did what I had to do to survive."

You knew that. She'd done plenty of things to ensure her survival. Some horrible, others less so. What mattered was that she lived. You couldn't fault her for that.

"It only happened once," she said. "I was out of there as soon as I felt it was safe."

"You haven't done anything wrong." People did all kinds of things when they were desperate. Stupid things. Reckless things. Heartbreaking things. That didn't make them bad. It just made them human.

That was what Rowena was — human. Underneath all her protective walls and the magic coursing through her veins, she was still a woman. A human being that felt and hurt and bled just like anyone else.

A moment passed in silence. Then, "He's not the only one I did it with. There were others."

You'd figured as much. Three years ago when she'd first told you about the Loughlins, you suspected there was more to the story. That there were more times where she was desperate and scared and alone, and she had no other way to survive than to bargain her body. You never brought it up; it wasn't your place to ask about such intimate, painful details. It wasn't your business. The last thing you wanted was for her to think you were judging her.

"You have to understand, I wasn't always this powerful. Sometimes I just needed to survive, and I did."

"I know," you said firmly, with all the conviction you could muster. Your eyes found hers, locked with them. "I understand."

"You do?"

"Yeah." You settled next to her on the bed. Reached for her hand. "You didn't do anything wrong. They took advantage of you."

A good person would have helped her without asking for anything in return. A good person would have given her food and shelter, exchanged a few kind words with her, listened to her plight. Would have befriended her, protected her instead of taking what they wanted. What the circumstances had forced her to offer.

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be?" You knew she had a past. As far as things went, this wasn't the worst she'd done.  Not even close. "I don't care what happened before. It's not like you cheated on me."

That prompted her to chuckle. "I suppose not."

You smiled. "You're my girl. I love you no matter what."

You loved her when she was nothing but a wicked witch who loved no one but herself. You loved her when she killed people, innocent and guilty alike. You loved her when she ruined and destroyed everything in her path. When she thought of you as nothing but an accessory, a poor, wee witch following her around like a puppy, desperate for her to teach her the ways of magic. You loved her when she changed, and when she suffered, and when she tossed and turned in the night as nightmares plagued her dreams.

You loved her through everything, and had taught her to love you back.

Her past couldn't change that.

Rowena's cheeks flushed with color. "What have I done to deserve you?"

"You're you." That was more than good enough for you.

A tear spilled down her cheek. "Bloody sap."

"Hey, you started it!" you teased.

She scoffed. You shrugged, nonchalant.

She squeezed your hand. After a moment of silence, she said, "I love you, as well."

"Who's the sap now?" She shot you a glare that had to have killed before, and you laughed. "You're so precious."

And you loved her for it. So much. Too much.

The past be damned.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @hellbentredhead @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @theeasterbilby @midnight-lestrange @oster-hagen @impala-1979​

[hljkr]

♤Red Lips | Ledger!Joker

red lips | ledger!joker

suspect(s): joker x reader

the crime committed: enamoured and charmed, moonlit late-night endeavours that were passionate with entwined bodies and intense orgasms. but there was just one thing missing from it all...

evidence: a lil’ swearing, titty grabbing, mentions of genitalia, suggested smut, intense kithes, joker’s kinda needy so ;))))), daddy kink, low key glove kink because I HAD to, y/n has a thing for scars and joker’s face (who doesn’t??), a like... pinch of angst??

- i had to do it to ‘em

(ok i really tried with this and by that i mean i spent a few hours on it with lousy editing buT this is my first time writing anything even slightly suggestive and with j so i hope this isn’t too bad??? just enjoy it ig djdshds)

Bunching the soft material of the blanket closer to your face, you let out a muffled whine as the insistent ringing of your annoying alarm clock rattled your eardrums and pulled you back down into reality and into a saddening state of consciousness. A shitty way to start the day after a blissful night only a few hours before. Last night had taken its toll on you physically, the bruises decorating your skin and scratch marks adorning your body were evidence enough but you loved and cherished every single one of them. Sighing contentedly, you thought over how amazing it was to be fucked into submission by the love and joy of your life, although he’d never explicitly ever put such a label on you. Even then, the sex was proof enough that he harboured some kind of feelings for you and that was enough to satiate your rapidly growing obsession with the killer clown all of Gotham feared.

Maybe falling in love with the mad man was a mistake, maybe he wasn’t good for you as all the city loved to preach. But who were they to ever have a say? They would never know him like you did, but admittedly even your knowledge of him was limited to what time he woke up and what time he returned. He’d never told you his name, would refuse to remove his protective layer of greasepaint no matter how much you begged and even his age was unanswered for. But what you did know was that he was your J and you’d do anything for him.

Nearly everything for him.

J was a complex and interesting person- his mannerisms and body language always screamed one thing only in the public eye but with you, he was (slightly) more careful, more passionate and while in front of everyone else he’d never be caught dead acting this way but with you, he was generous in multiple ways many could never even imagine him being. You considered yourself privileged to know the criminal mastermind of the city had a soft spot for you. And although you barely knew him, you weren’t afraid to be vulnerable with him. You’d gladly let him into your life and indulged him in your past and your secrets and gifted him your heart as well. But there was one thing that you could never deal with, and it was his lips.

The scars were gorgeous in your eyes, they only added to his already attractive appearance and made your heart leap from even looking at them. You loved to gently trace your fingertips over the smooth faded lines gracing his cheeks while he was resting, admiring them and have pride seep into your chest knowing how strong and resilient he was going through something so obviously traumatic and not allowing it to stop him from doing anything he wanted. But you didn’t lie to yourself, the things he wanted were questionable but you didn’t let it get the best of you. Being intimate with the green-haired clown, the sight of his scars made your arousal and lust for him reach heights you’d never experienced with any ordinary guy. His entire physique had you on your knees for him every day of the week without a fail.

But his lips, covered in the hauntingly familiar red paint that made you shiver at the thought of even touching with your lips. The amount he licked his lips in a day smudged and moistened the paint to a slimy consistency and it made shivers travel down your back. It made you weak in the knees in the worst way possible. For this reason, you absolutely refused to kiss him. And because of this rule, J was not a happy camper.  

♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎

“Come on doll, why don’t you give your-a, J a little kiss?” The Joker cocked his eyebrow, staring down at you from the doorway as you absentmindedly flipped through the TV channels trying to figure out what to watch.

“Because it’s nasty, all your shitty paint is sweaty and wet and your lips are probably slimy from how much you lick them,” you scrunched your nose at the thought of it, shaking your head as you turned to face in his direction. He was visibly unamused and rolled his eyes.

“You're being drama-tic,” he groaned, adjusting his infamous purple coat and stalking towards you, “It’s just a little peck, princess, would it kill ya to show me a little loving?”

“Yes.”

Glaring into his empty eyes, you rose from your spot on the bed and stood in front of him. Your arms were crossed to try attempt to stand your ground, hoping that your stance would make him back down slightly. But this was J you were talking about and your sanguine theory was quickly disproven. Rolling his eyes, his hands immediately circled your waist and pulled you flush against his body. His sturdy chest was pressed against yours, allowing you to feel his steady heartbeat while yours was embarrassingly pounding out of your chest.

“Mmm, come on, doll,” his face was drawing closer to yours, sweat beginning to build up from the nerves. You’d probably fucked a million times and sucked his dick twice that, but kissing felt like a whole other... unpleasant territory.

“J,” you whispered, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you carefully considered your options. From close up, the red greasepaint seemed even more gooey and sticky and you visibly winced. There was no way you were going to kiss him, not with that mess all over his mouth.

Pressing a hand against his chest, you gently pushed him back. It was far enough for him to be an inch or two away from you. Unwinding his muscular arms from around your weaker body, you turned towards the door before looking back at him and giving him a sultry stare, “if your scars are anything to go by, you’re sexier without the greasepaint... just saying.”

♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎♔♥︎

A few days later, you were leaning against your kitchen counter and in desperate need of caffeine. Dumping the heaped spoon of coffee grounds into your mug, you idly stirred the drink as you peered around your home. It had been a while since you stayed the night at your house, mainly deciding to spend your days and nights with Joker wherever he decided to spend his time. This time, he’d insisted you stayed at your own place due to some stupid bank heist he was planning with his thugs and explained that ‘he wouldn’t tolerate any distractions.’

Sighing in boredom, you picked up the mug by the handle and carefully waddled over to your couch. Placing the cup onto your coffee table, you plopped down onto the couch and kicked your feet up onto the armrest. The first thing you did was turn the TV on, instantly turning to the news channel to see if J had been true to his word the previous night.

“We have just received reports of another one of The Joker’s-”

Scoffing in disbelief, you pulled yourself up on the couch before turning to another channel- not wanting to listen to how J had lied to you about his escapades only a few hours earlier. Whenever you saw him next you were determined to give him a piece of your mind, you decided. Bringing the boiling hot beverage up to your lips, you gulped down the caffeine that scorched your tongue and burned your throat as it trickled down into your stomach.

It wasn’t any secret, you despised J’s criminal ways and his cunning schemes and all the bad things he loved. You would never force him to stop, your main concern his safety and the thought of him teasing you with his gun and the thought of the sensation of his cool knife brushing against your skin made you hot and bothered. He was quick to calm your doubts and worries, reassuring you that the evil genius could never be killed or caught for long because he always had you to come back to.

Unfortunately, due to him knowing your qualms he tended to lie about his whereabouts to purge you of sleepless nights and restless days spent brooding over him.

“Asshole,” you whispered under your breath, going to take another big mouthful of the drink when it was promptly slapped out of your gasp and tumbled onto the carpet. It narrowly avoided your couch and was a hairs width of coming in contact with your skin.

“You-a, know you love me, Doll,” J’s rough dark voice came from behind you, every hair on your body standing on end as the reality of the situation dawned on you as your back straightened up in fear, “maybe a kiss will-a, make me feel better after you were so rude to Daddy.”

Breath hitching at his creative choice of wording, your core tingled from the excitement his words brought you. Nervously biting your bottom lip between your teeth, you froze as you felt J’s gloved hand sneak around to your front and rest just above your tits. The promise of his hands hidden behind purple leather touching you made you squirm in your seat.  The delicious mix of fear and elation you felt began to cloud your better judgement, knowing deep down you should confront him about what he said but wanting to allow yourself to get carried away with him.

“A kiss? Nothing else?” you softly spoke, turning to face him with half-lidded eyes and an intense fire burning in your gut. Your eyes went to his at first, slowly analysing the rest of his features. The change didn’t register with you at first, your desire fogging your mind and didn’t allow you to see past the image of the regular J you were accustomed to.

“Is my-a, face as sexy as you imaged, Doll?”

Confusion coated your face, eyes frantically wandering around before they widened in awe at the tantalizing sight presented in front of you. His usual white and red paint had been wiped away, small traces of his black eye rimming paint remaining. He was understandably in a rush on his way to your place, but you looked past that as you took in the face of the person you loved.

Crashing his lips against yours, his chapped lips moved with vigour as he swallowed your needy whines and moans that sent heat to his hardening cock. His hand dropped and squeezed your breast painfully hard, but it made a gush of wetness leak from your deprived pussy. Twisting your erect nipple between his fingers, he pressed harder against your plump lips and easily coaxed out more sweet noises from your swollen lips.

“Fuck,” you gasped, hands lifting to grasp his green strands of hair and tugging hard on them, relishing in the grunt he lets out from the sapid stimulation. You felt like putty in his hands, ready to do anything he wanted just to please him. You wanted to ride his cock and see stars, satisfy him in ways that would have him cumming in seconds. And now without that muck coating his lips, your swollen pussy and kissable pink lips were more than willing to give him everything.

“On-a, all fours with your ass in the air, Princess. Daddy wants to have a little fun with his little girl before he-a, has to get back to work.”

[borisbubbles]

17. CZECH REPUBLIC

Benny Christo - “Kemama”

So first off, thank you for the nice commens. 😇The past few months haven’t been the happiest time for me, so thank you for your patience as I scraped my bearings together for another post! 😁

So I will now extend that same sympathy to Benny Christo, whom I think I damn fucking underrated. Let’s jump in~

ENTRY ANALYSIS

As one may expect i INSTANTLY liked “Kemama” because you know, it’s a fun, laid-back, tropical afro-breeze, completely different from anything else we would see in NFs and the year. EXACTLY the type of song I was hoping the Czech NF would deliver (and deliver they did, see NF Corner). This level of mild like swung into strong unironic like upon realizing that the title is a contraction of “Okay Mother” 😍 and the song deals with the subject of overcoming racially-tinged discrimination and rising above the hate. That just feels very poetic and apt? “Kemama” felt like the entry that had to overcome the highest odds in order to earn the respect it so fully deserves, and still hasn’t fully reached it.

.In our Western European bubble, comprised mostly of gays and left-liberal straights, we have a very grateful and universal acceptance of many different kinds of [lizard] people that make up Eurovision casts. Yet with “Kemama” we may have reached  an unusually grimy undercurrent of coded racism. 

Of course nothing I read was outrageously rancid, than Cod for that. The worst statement I read was a double-whammy of “EWW THIS ISN’T CARIBBEANVISION” and “WHY WOULD SOMEONE FROM *KENYA* WANT TO REP CZECHIA IN EUROVISION?”, and yes they first got the continent wrong and then *also* got the country wrong in the follow-up post and then they were torn limb from limb by a pack of aformentioned left-liberals. I’m sorry but i can’t not have any other response than laughter in the face of yet another fucking MORON faceplanting themselves with words like a... racist JK Rowling if you will?

Still, while I never read something outright vile about Benny doesn’t mean I found his deniers really annoying and they were! Think “Ew Solovey is ‘Too Aggressive’ it will NEVER DO WELL IN ESC”, a statement that isn’t coded nor racist (and yet extremely false and misguided), functioned as a similar idea by the same minds. A statement borne from the same breed of narrow-minded stubbornness which has caused elitist morons to be all “there is **SOMETHING** about “Kemama” i do *NOT* like and I cannot lay my finger on it... but I **DO NOT** like it at ALL. It won’t ever qualify because everyone will think the same way I do” -- Eurovision snobs, tiptoeing around racial coda in January 2020.

 They would also insist that Benny was “arrogant” because he was seemingly impervious to their (de)constructive criticism. Like, if you were a biracial butterfly living in a slavic country who had to deal with statements such as the above on a regular basis, you WOULD block out the noise. And if you heard them often enough you will start to block them out pre-emptively. DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW COPING MECHANISMS WORK?? (oh wait you’re white-privileged. Nevermind 🙄)

 So naturally, when Benny decided that he would revamp “Okay Mother” by adding in MORE African elements it only made me love him even more lol. 😍 Was it a bull-headed, contrarian and possibly really stupid decision? Yes, yes and absolutely yes. Was it worth it? Well he managed to incite even more meltdowns in a group of people I feel nothing but contempt for, so hell yeah? Eurovision was cancelled anyway so who cares how much ‘worse’ “Kemama” actually got. 

Okay, so we’ve arrived at the revamp.

Granted, it wasn’t the best ‘vamp, I’d be a fool to deny it. The new elements threw a wrench in the melodic balance of the song. Out went tropical laid-back fun, IN went that fucking guitar oh my god this is some Hotel FM piano levels of overbearing I swear. (nb: this still didn’t stop me from ironically stanning Hotel FM’s lame asses anyway 😍). However, it made the personal backstory that I loved and savoured take a backseat to the now inferior composition. 😭

Regardless, New Kemama was fundamentally the same song, and I fundamentally liked Old Kemama, so whatevs, it made no different to me. In the eyes of many Eurovision diehards we were experiencing WORST PRESHOW SEASON EVER (after three songs... lol) and nothing clinches this brainworm more than a revamp announcement. “OH MY GOD HE WILL RUIN IT! I CAN GUARANTEE YOU I *WON’T* LIKE IT”. Self-fulfilling prophecies, ya know? It certainly didn’t help when the official channel accidentally uploaded a vid with broken soundmixing (‘OMG HORRIBLE LAST IN THE SEMI!!!!’ calm the ever-loving HELL down) and took another FULL WEEK to upload the correct vid. The damage had already been done. Typing "SEE I TOLD YOU THE REVAMP WOULD BE SHITE HA HA HA” in the Kemama comment box really just is the ESC equivalent of reponding with “Actually, *all* lives matter :smug:” to a BLM support pamphlet, isn’t it?

NF CORNER

While not my favourite NF of the bunch, I found the Czech NF to be lowkey epic. Not epic enough to remember its name but regardless Czechvision or whatever marked the end of an era because it was also the last selection spearheaded by Jan Bors :o

I think I’ve made it clear enough in the past that I’m somewhat mixed on Bors Era Czechia - Lake Malawi were a toetapping good, Ickolas was a pockmarked, skin-crawling evil and the other three inhibit a purgatory somewhere between “moderately nice” and “moderate timewaste.”

Still, I have great respect for the man who orchestrated Czech’s comeback after scoring NINE POINTS TOTAL across three years with the mindset of “So what? Why says we can’t win?” so ofc I was all into the idea of the “EIGHT INDIE ANGELS, HAND-PICKED BY BORS HIMSELF” NF that would serve as his swan song.

Naturally things went down the drain the second Bors left, with one of the eight peacing and his successor cancelling the live broadcast (does anyone remember what exactly happened? I vaguely recall one was the cause of the other but lol it’s July can’t be bothered to factscheck (Factsczeck?) anymore, bitches.

Anyway, ON TO THE GOOD STUFF, and yes, there was plenty.

We All Poop - “ All the Blood (Positive Song Actually)”

Yes, as you can imagine I ofc IMMEDIATELY fell into like when I saw that chyron and invisioned the inevitability of the Czech Rep’s Rep immediately alienating every parent just based on their name alone <3 😍 w/e WAP quickly became that “Good but not great” song you find in every NF that everyone gushes over because it’s the whitest option available. Like, yes, “All the blood” is good, but musically it’s identical to Green Day and Twenty-One Pilots and god name ANY 90s-early00′s American Punk Rock band. For me the enjoyment came from the fact that WAP were openly crazy vegan fundamentalists and the VC clip actively condemns the use ANY animal protein by replacing the cattle and game with LITERAL HUMAN BEINGS. 😍 :fusedmarcintensifies: :kasiamosage:

Pam Rabbit - “Get up”

Ohhhh YES a glorious experimental Synth-Trap song only I could love and ofc I did. God what is there even to say; the provocative darkness of the verses combined with the swirling amorphousness of the chorus gives me LIFE. LUFF THIS SHIT <3333 Ftr, this was also the fave of Slovene Juror duo / synth angels / Boris faves ZALAGASPER, further proving their pathetic naysayers that they own all things music and the haters can suck a series of-

Barbora Mochowa - “White and Black Holes“

Lol, yes even with a “Get up” existing, there was a song I liked even more. Barbora proved a very competent Lana del Gay last year, but I was a YUGE fan of this year’s... Kate Bush-Björk blend of ethereal awesome. It is so soothingly beautiful and the rare example of a song that I find completely free of flaws. Were the competition not such a hard place, I’d be pissed she didnt win (at least she won the jury vote MASSIVE KUDOS to every alum on that) but w/e this selection had opions and I’m rather robbed of a “Kemama” than I am of a BRILLIANT IRREPLICABLE AETHERBALLAD. ~Danse balance sûr les white and black holes~

Elis Mraz & Cis T - “Wanna be like”

I *VERY* strongly felt that if the Czech Republic wanted to win ESC, they should have picked Elis and even now I STILL believe she could have won. That isn’t to say I gushed over “Wanna be like” because I find it kind of annoying lol. Yes, I LOVE an annoying female voice (:Tones&Icackle:) but Elis’s reaches a Camilla Cabello sort of place for me (good lord get Senorita OFF the fucking radio) and the Scat + White Guy Rapping middle-eight. 😬. However, the second I opened up the video clip for this paragraph and was immediately BLASTED by Elis murdering a ukelele and wearing a  “schoolgirl” outfit straight from a Japanese tentacle porn movie and OH MY GOD THE AGGRESSIVE TWERKING made me reconsider that hey, this min-sized Meghan Traynor actually kinda highkey owns, yo!  Yet, I’m not at all bothered we lost her in the Czech NF because we got UNO DOS QUATRO CINCO SEIS :fatmansplit: fill up the megameme slot instead, so...

Eurovision 2020 vs Eurovision 2021

BENNY RUINED HIS SONG AND NEVER WOULD HAVE QUALIFIED. jk I’m not a moron. Sure, “Kemama” wasn’t an easy sell because you know AFROBEAT in a contest where half of the people watching are fash (ie: all of Eastern Europe, who watch out of ~Nationalistic Sentiment~ 😬), but there are Kemama live renditions out there and he owns them SO hard lol. A few soundmixing issues really would not have stopped Benny from qualifying in that RIDICULOUSLY WEAKSAUCE SEMIFINAL are you fucking kidding me. He probably would’ve bombed in the Grand Final, but I mean it’s Czech and it’s not Ickolas so ofc it would have.

And Czech renewed him for 2021 regardless of the sceptics, woohoo! I think part of it was due the Czech not wanting to re-organize an ENTIRE NF from scratch without Jan Bors, but probably also because Benny owns live when he isn’t engaged in psychological trench warfare with actual human detritus <3 and also because the Czech fucking CARE about their artists and don’t drop them like a sack of rotten potatoes wtfshitprus.

Can’t wait for the moment when he qualifies and Efendi does not, etc, etc. 

FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTOR!

I’d say that the core around which the Ben Drama spun was pretty standard fare: niche fave beats out the concensus fave, meltdowns ensue, people convince themselves it was the WRONG decision because it wasn the result they wanted, try to disown the song and make a fool of themselves because the song slaps, sorry. Even the revamp drama felt more of less generic for me, because yawn fantards melting down over a revamp of a song they don’t even like what else is new.  

However, what I do take away that the revamp was ENTIRELY Benny’s idea which he told no one about (cue to JAN BORS having a social media meltdown like he’s Caesar at the Ides of March 💔) added MORE afrobeat just to troll his haters even more <3  God, I’d say it was bad from a musical perspective but this level of in-your-face defiance is fucking iconic and hilarious, sorry. This entire this year is so batshit bonkers that the concept of a someone potentially shooting themselves in the foot and “torpedo’ing” their qualification chances  (not rly, he would’ve Q’d anyway lol) JUST to take the moral high ground in a racially coded argument only HE took seriously may not even be the craziest concept in the year! (lol it definitely isn’t. Look at the pics I haven’t greyed out yet)

This and more yield Benny some well-earned Senheads! Yay!! 

Score: 3 Senhits out of 5.