#mention of prostitution

[personnotfound]

just googled if jesus was married because i remember as a kid it was extremely unclear to me and despite having actually read the entire goddamn bible multiple times myself partly because the grown ups couldn't seem to agree was was in the damned thing, i cannot actually remember the answer to this very simple question.

and isn't that a little fucked up? i grew up in the church, twice a week for most of my childhood i went to jesus-class and his wife, and whether or not he was married at all, was considered so irrelevant that it just barely came up at all. I can only remember mention that he was married to Marry Magdalene being mentioned as kind of an environmental detail in the story of the crusifiction.

anyway, icky feelings about all that aside, here is a quote from one of the websites arguing about whether he was actually married or not:

"His reasoning was: Jesus was not married, but fully male, so he had to seek his comfort elsewhere. It is true that Jesus dealt with prostitutes. But there is no evidence that he had sex with them. We simply do not know about Jesus' sexual development and how he behaved as a man."

[i-am-still-bb]

Whumptober 2022 - No. 26 - Separated

DarkHawk, T

--

The bar was not hard to find. It was in the British section of Berlin and there was a row of British military vehicles parked in front of it along the Ku’damm.. The bicycles were long gone. The street was empty except for patrons making their way to and from Robbie’s. Those leaving were a little lighter on their feet and less likely to be on their own.

Jim parked his own army-issue Jeep among the others. He remembered this area from before the war. It would have been full of light and laughter. And now, in an hour or maybe less, it would be darker than a country road and a good deal harder to navigate with the pits and piles of rubble.

There was a message board on a boarded over window of the shop next door. It was covered with advertisements for trades, sales, and pleas for information about missing persons. Jim had thought about putting his own message up on a similar board near Ross’ old apart, but the thought that it would be there until it was ripped off or covered up with another notice prevented him from doing so.

The bar was not what he had been expecting. A band was playing music he recognized, the tables were covered with white clothes, and food was being served on actual dinnerware.

Jim spotted the man he had come to see almost immediately. He was younger than Jim had expected, but he had the scar over his eye and had claimed a corner table. And there were a couple of women seated around him. All was as expected.

“Günter?”

The man nodded, “And you’re Jim? Karl mentioned you.” He looked to Karl who was seated at the bar.

“Is it okay to talk?” Jim asked looking to the women.

Günter nodded. “The girls only know a handful of English words, most of them being swear words. Right Kiersten?”

The blonde woman seated to Günter’s right looked up. She smiled at Jim, “Hello.” Then she turned back to her plate of food.

Jim pulled out a chair and sat.

“So is there anything special you’re looking for? Something a bit out of the normal? Or just standard? You’re an officer, right?” He looked at the patch on Jim’s coat. “They’ll only go with officers, because then they can pretend that something more will come of it. And they’re all clean, so you don’t have to worry about going home with pus between your legs. I insist on them seeing a doctor once a week. He takes care of any diseases, not that there are many with officers, but you never know, and any other inconveniences.” Günter raised his eyebrows.

Jim shifted, embarrassed. “No. That’s not why I’m here. Not the girls.”

“A boy then?” Günter asked. “They cost a bit more since I can only send them out once a night. They get all used up, you know?” He smiled, as friendly as any shopkeeper. “They’re clean, just like the girls. All Hitler Youth, they can even wear the uniform if you’d like.”

Jim’s ears burned. “No. No, you misunderstand. I’m here for information.”

Günter’s eyes narrowed. “Are you a cop? An MP?”

Jim shook his head. “I’m a reporter.”

Günter nodded. “And a friend of Karl’s. I suppose I can do my best. What sort of information are you looking for?”

Jim leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Someone made a lot of money at the market a few days ago and then he was killed and I’m looking for an idea of what he might have sold that would be worth that much.”

“How much did he have?”

“The Russians are saying 5,000 occupation marks, which means it’s probably close to 10,000.”

“I don’t deal in anything that expensive. Anything worth that much is probably dangerous. But he could have sold a property; that would get him a fair amount.”

Jim shook his head. “He came in from Frankfurt. He didn’t even have luggage.”

Günter considered for a moment, “Jewelry, watches in particular can fetch a good price. Medicine is also in high demand, but he’d need more than he could carry in his pockets to get 10,000. … Papers would get him that much.”

“Papers?”

“You know, identification papers, military discharge papers. The Germans would be the one’s buying those.”

“Persilscheins,” Jim said.

“To wipe away the sins and the buyer a fresh start. If it’s a good forgery your guy could have gotten 1,500, maybe 2,000 each. You know what, I’ve heard about another type going around that would fetch a lot more.”

Jim raised his eyebrows.

“I haven’t seen one myself, mind you. I don’t touch that shit. Too dangerous. Too dirty. Camp letters. Character witnesses to say that so-and-so hid them from the Nazis or that so-and-so was in the camp with them. The very best kind of persilscheins because no one thinks that someone would lie about something like that.”

“Why would they?”

“Quick money and a lot of it. And if you’re trying to get out…” Günter spread his hands.

“I’ll have to do more digging to see if that could be the case.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. I’m looking for someone I know that lived in Berlin.”

“Sometimes the message boards work.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. But they’d have to be checking those and actually check the one where I put the notice. I also have someone checking the papers that have to be filled out to get a ration card, but they’d have to be in Berlin.”

“And alive.”

“I know,” Jim said tightly.

“Everything went to shit at the end.”

“I’ve heard.”

“When did you last see this person?”

“Four years ago,” Jim admitted.

Günter whistled. “That’s a long time, even if they are alive they could have fled the city years ago.”

“I know. I just want to know if there’s another way to find him.”

“I could always ask around, but no promises.”

Jim was about to give Günter Ross’ name and address and any other information that could be relevant when he saw Ross’ jacket in the crowd. But it couldn’t be. The waist was too thick, shoulders too narrow, but Jim could not tear his eyes away. The jacket was leather and tailored to Ross’ form; Jim had been with him when he purchased it.

The person wearing the jacket turned. Jim caught a glimpse of the bright blue liner, an extra cost because it was custom. And there was the patch on the sleeve from where a tree branch had punctured the thin leather. It was Ross’ jacket, but the person was not Ross, Jim could see that quite easily.

“Hey!” Günter exclaimed.

But Jim was already on his feet and shoving his way across the room to the man wearing Ross’ jacket. Jim had some questions for him.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: Old Friends

Bruce Wayne is no stranger to losing people. He has lost them to death or to madness within this city he is desperately trying to save. With each person, the void within him grows darker and darkeruntil he feels like he is still trapped back in that alley next to cold bodies and a broken heart.

That is why he tries his best to not overthink about them as they were in their final moments. He tries to remember his loved ones for who they were in the better days before tragedy struck.

Once in a while, even those memories he desperately tries to suppress because he can't handle the pain they bring. Bruce is aware it's not healthy.

He's seen plenty of men who are allowed their passions to become violent obsessions- he thinks of Harvey often- but being Batman was the one time he was actually making a difference instead of just allowing more and more tragedies to continue.

As Batman, he is at least putting up a fight.

Maybe that's why, on the night of his two old friends' deaths, Bruce sees them standing under a light post in Old Gotham as he is swinging by dressed as Batman. The very same one he would meet them at back as a teenager, scrambling to sneak out after Alfred would do his rounds.

He remembers his heart beating a mile a minute as he hurried out of his manor's caves, using the forgotten paths to meet the type of youth Alfred warned him against.

They would greet him with crooked smiles, sharp teasing voices, but soft, kind eyes. Despite how the older generations would wrinkle their noises at their appearance, they weren't bad people. Sometimes Bruce thought of them whenever people asked if Crime Alley was ever worth the effort to reform.

He knew they deserved someone to at least try.

Bruce, had meet them when he was ten and angry. They had both come from bad homes- at the time he hadn't realized just how bad- but they had been willing to help the privlage rich boy find his way home. They invited to linger when he neeed quite nights, listen to his woes and encourage his desire to be more.

The three were the same age, but sometimes Bruce would think he was the youngest one there. He grew up fast after his parent's murders, but not as fast as they had done.

They would rather spend their nights sleeping around the center of a small plaza in front of an old movie theater than going to either of their family houses, told him.

They were his best friends, a comfort that someone his age understood pain even if it wasn't the same one he had.

Maybe that is why he hadn't told them to stay when they told him that one had finally saved enough money for a motorbike, which the two were planning to use to run away. Bruce thought that they needed to get away until they were all adults and the system would no longer hold the power of them.

He had only given them a big hug, and well wishes.

Bruce never saw them again.

The light post hadn't been fixed in all those years, so the flickering light fell on the two figures casually leaning against it just as it did the very last night. They stood side by side, chatting lowly, lips cured around cigarettes.

Even the smoke floating around them is the same, and for a second, Bruce wonders if he is looking at a photograph. The same crooked smiles, taunting body language as if daring anyone to try to make them sad, and the same kind but so lonely eyes.

Even the blasted motocycle that stole them from him is propped up next to the pair just as it did the last night he saw them.

Bruce swings to a stop on the rooftop overlooking the two he had outlived. He remembers when he found out. Alfred had just turned on the TV to watch the daily news, and their pictures were flashing across the screen, the words Deadly motorcycle accident under their image.

Bruce had thrown up the meal Alfred had made him. No one else came to their funeral, fitting as it had been the girl's father that orginized their deaths.

All because his daughter would not follow her mother's footsteps and thus he would be out of a worker. Not that anyone belived him, even though Bruce had orginized thier funerals and been one of the four attendees.

Even though she had told them both with a shaking voice that her father wanted her to start wearing the clothes she was in to attract customers.

It was one of the first few cold cases he solved as Batman. He owed them that much.

"B?" Nightwing calls, noticing that his father had stopped following. He comes to stand next to him looking down to where Batman is staring. He sees nothing. "What is it?"

"Just some old friends," He mutters, turning away from Johnny and Kitty. He swears he can almost hear Johnny calling his name but Bruce can't bring himself to look back. If he does he'll fall into the void instead of staring. He aims his grabbling hook and swinings away.

Down below, the pair of ghosts watch the heroes go with wishful smiles.

"He's grown."

"He has." Johnny takes a long puff of his cigarette "I think the idiot can see us. He's had too many close calls if he can spot ghosts without the crazy levels of ectoplasm Amity Park has."

"He better not die. His kids need him." Kitty scoffs, but she leans on Johnny all the same, staring at the city they had tried so desperately to escape in life. They had passed by the street corner her father had controlled the working girls in, and she had burst into tears to see that Bruce had turned it into a women's shelter named after her. "This city needs him."

Johnny, for all his faults, and his flirtatious nature had allways been her rock. That's why when she had been sixteen and scared, she had gone to him to try to run away with.

He had gone with her to their deaths. Sometimes, she wonders if her boys ever blamed her for the end of their stories. She certainly did.

Johnny glances to the sky, spitting a swear. "Come babe, the glowing brat is back. We should try to split before he shoves us back to the Zone."

[marietheran]

...I really think sometimes that the people who exclaim loud and wide that sex work is a great thing actually hate women.

[3-2-whump]

Mistaken Accusation

<prev

Well, let's get into it. Beginning of the end. Special thanks to my beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz ! Do mind the tags, and enjoy

This chapter does reference The Hit, so please skim that first if you are not already familiar with it

Author's Note: This is where shit gets real (more real, that is), and where the author may make some decisions that might not vibe with the readers. To those readers, all I will say is fanfiction is a thing, canon divergence is a thing, and I will honestly be more intrigued than mad if you end up scrapping this part and writing your own version! (Just lmk, like tag me or dm me so I can see?) But, um, yeah, onto the chapter!

TW/CW: description and mention of STD, prostitution whump, mock execution, gun violence (brief, but there), collared whumpee, bound and blindfolded whumpee, shock, emotional whump, fear of death, pissing oneself out of fear, emotional angst, degrading language, toxic relationship, manipulative whumper, possessive whumper, intimate whumper

As Khaled relieved himself in the office bathrooms near the end of the day, he hissed under his breath at the burning sensation coming out of him. That can’t be good, he thought. What would make it feel like he was passing acid or fire down there? He looked down at his dick, eyes widening a little as he saw how inflamed his urethra looked. Khaled let out a mortified little squeak. What’s wrong with my penis?

Should I tell Master? Telling his master that he suspected he’d caught something would only lead to probing questions about Khaled’s sex life, even though he wasn’t the one who had visited every whorehouse within the tristate area. Probing questions about his sex life would mean admitting that he was sleeping with Julio, and admitting that he was sleeping with Julio would only fuel his master’s possessive side and make things far worse for him. Khaled could imagine no situation in which he would come out unscathed if he told Thomas about it. So, he decided not to tell him.

He didn’t have to endure his secret for long though, because as soon as he came back into his master’s office, he could sense the energy had changed. 

“Is there something wrong, Boss?” Khaled asked nervously.

“I have just received information from our foot soldiers and informants that the motorcycle that my would-be assassin rode when he got away came from Alvarez Auto and Motorcycles, a known front of Juicio Divino,” Thomas gritted out.

Khaled’s jaw dropped as his mind slowly put together the pieces that he had in his hands all along. Of course, it was Julio, how could I be so blind?! he thought. Just over a year ago, Khaled himself approached the scrapyard assassin asking him to teach him how to kill, and had been crawling back to him in various states of distress ever since. Julio was one of two people on earth who knew how badly Thomas actually treated him, and, combined with his overprotective tendencies, Khaled mentally beat himself up for not suspecting his boyfriend sooner. 

His master’s stormy gray eyes narrowed at Khaled in a piercing glare as he pushed his tablet across the desk. “Incidentally, you have been visiting Alvarez Auto pretty frequently over the past year, haven’t you?”

Khaled’s stomach twisted in dread as he leaned in closer to read it. There, opened on his slave tracking app, was a map with pins of most-frequently visited locations he had been tracked to, and there was a damning bright red pin at the address of Julio’s garage. His mouth went dry as he opened and closed it in shock, trying to collect the right words to say as the opportunity to beg for mercy slipped through his fingers like sand. “I- Master, I- it’s not what you think-”

The older man disdainfully held up a hand, a nonverbal cue that he didn’t want to hear it. Khaled shrank in on himself. “How did you even pay for a hit against me, huh?” the boss asked. “I know you haven’t made that much money since I’ve started paying you! How could you afford to put out a hit?” His voice lowered to a growl. “Did you bend over for that cholo son of a bitch? Did you let him fuck you like I fuck you? Is that why you’ve got an infection –don’t deny it, Khaled, it hurt when I pissed this morning!”

The world seemed to stop as the air quickly left Khaled’s lungs. Wait, what? He was being accused of conspiring against his master, then of being a whore within the same breath? And to make matters worse, he somehow gave his owner an STD before he realized he had one himself? His breaths came out shallow as his body began trembling in fear. What does this mean for me? What’s going to happen to me? He nearly passed out as his imagination went wild with how severe his punishment would be. “Master, please, I had no idea-”

“Shut up!”

Khaled ceased his begging instantly, a nauseous wave of dread coiling in his stomach as he waited for his master to dole out his sentence. “You will never see anybody besides me again,” his master said, glowering at him in contempt as Khaled’s eyes widened in horror. He got up from his chair and circled around Khaled, with a familiar black shock collar and a length of chain in hand. “I’ll give you a chance to say your goodbyes before we leave.”

Khaled regained enough of his senses to shake his head and back away from the man approaching him. “But, Master, I didn’t-”

The world snapped to the right in a stinging blow as Thomas backhanded him. Khaled rubbed his sore cheek and winced in pain. “You’re lucky I don’t outright kill you, though I still might, if you keep whining like that!” he yelled. Khaled turned silent and sullen, still cradling his sore cheek as the collar tightened like a noose around his throat. “Now, come on, let’s make your final goodbyes count.” His master attached the chain leash to a notch in the shock collar and pulled Khaled towards the exit.

-

Khaled was pulled through the whole office and out to the guard shack like that, stopping periodically as his master made him explain what was going on and why he was leaving to everyone they met. Khaled’s voice was shaking like a leaf the first stop they made; by the time they made it to the guard shack, he was unable to utter anything intelligible past his tears. Nico’s jaw dropped as Thomas explained what had happened and why Khaled was never going to see him again.

“But, he didn’t do it, sir!” he objected, pushing himself out of his desk chair and standing up to face him. “He had no part in it! I can prove it, just listen to me!”

As much as Khaled wanted to interrogate that ‘I can prove it’ claim just a little more, Tom ignored him. He pulled the leash taut and yanked Khaled away. Khaled frantically pulled at the collar around his neck, emitting choked gasps as he stumbled along and struggled to keep up.

They ended up back at the car, where Tom unclipped his leash and pushed the button on the key fob to unlock the trunk of the car. Khaled was shoved up roughly against the side of the car as his hands were gathered behind his back and bound tightly by a soft and silky material, most likely a necktie. “Master, please, please, hear me out –I didn’t put a hit on you, I swear!” he once again tried to explain through a mess of snot and tears. “I don’t want to kill you, why would I want to kill you? Please –listen to me! I don’t want to kill you; I swear I didn’t know!” Thomas dragged him to the back of the car, where he stared down at him in cold fury. He took out a dark cloth from his pocket and unfolded it. Khaled preemptively opened his mouth to receive it, but then the man tied the cloth around his eyes to blind him. He quietly shut his mouth as the blindfold was tied tight enough to catch his hair. He heard the trunk of the car quietly whoosh open before he was picked up and shoved inside. The door of the trunk slammed shut, sealing him in an extra layer of darkness.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever as Khaled shivered in the darkness. It was still far too cold to be riding back there without anything to keep him warm. Throughout the darkness he begged, then screamed, then cried, then sniffled, knowing damn well his master couldn’t hear him.

Time seemed to work differently in the dark, cramped confines of a car trunk. Khaled was unsure of how much time had passed since he was shoved in the trunk, but he was more than concerned that they seemed to keep driving far longer than it usually took to get back to the apartments. He’s never going to forgive me, he realized as he rested his head onto the floor of the trunk. He really thinks I planned to kill him, and now he’s going to take me out into the woods and kill me, or do something so horrific it will make me wish I had died. A fresh round of tears soaked into his blindfold as Khaled whimpered pathetically. I don’t want to die, not like this.

Goddamnit, Julio, you tried to be the hero, and now I’m gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere, Khaled cursed in his head.

The car rolling to a stop and faint click that preceded the trunk unlocking made Khaled’s heartrate speed up. A new wave of anxiety hit him much like the blast of midwinter air when the trunk was opened and he was pulled out. He didn’t feel concrete underneath his shoes, and the fresh icy chill of the air around him told him they weren’t in the parking garage. We really are in the woods somewhere, he thought, his hopes sinking like lead as his master’s hand gripped his elbow and steered him along to an unknown destination. He’s really driven me out to the woods somewhere to kill me. Khaled stumbled as his foot hit an unseen obstruction, but his master dragged him along regardless. This is it. I’m gonna die. His breaths started picking up, heart racing as that last thought worked him up into another nervous state. His owner stopped and threw him forward onto the ground. Khaled landed face first into a cold and wet patch of snow, judging on how it felt when it absorbed his impact. “Get up and kneel.” Khaled’s breaths stopped in his throat. There was no room in his master’s frigid tone for argument. He pushed himself up the best he could with his hands bound behind his back, shivering not just from the cold as he assumed a kneeling position.

A cold, metallic object pressed against the back of the young man’s skull. “If you’ve got anything to say, say it now,” his master’s voice said behind him. A wet and warm spot began to soak his pants in the front. Khaled’s mind went blank. He was so scared he nearly forgot his owner had asked for his last words. He caught his trembling lip between his teeth before shaking his head. Whatever he could say for his last words would go unheeded anyway, lost in the winter’s chill and the indifferent New England woods. He hung his head in resignation, ready for the explosive pain followed by sudden oblivion and nothingness, or whatever it was that lie ahead.

He had at least hoped he would see his father’s face before the end. But the only image his shielded eyes could conjure up before he died was a pair of sharp, steel gray eyes.

Click.

Nothing happened.

The gun lowered, and heavy footsteps crunched in the snow as his would-be executioner walked around to the front of him.

Khaled was still alive. Somehow, he was still alive. There was a light brush of hands reaching behind his head before the blindfold fell away, revealing a familiar face staring down at him with those same steel gray eyes. Khaled’s breath shimmered in the cold moonlit night. He was alive. He wasn’t going to die. He was alive.

All the fear and tension left his body like his vaporous breath in the night as he slumped forward, crying tears of relief into his master’s shoulder as he caught him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he sobbed between each breath.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Thomas soothed as he reached behind Khaled to untie his hands. “I believe you for now, it’s alright.” As soon as his hands were free, Khaled wrapped them around the older man’s neck, hugging him close as he bawled into his shoulder. “I thought about it, but there is no way I can definitively prove it was you.” A muscular pair of arms wrapped around him and held him close, drawing him into the warmth. “And besides, my favorite fuck toy, plotting to kill me?” His master laughed. “No way you’re smart enough for that! I didn’t buy you for your brains, you know!”

“Yes, yes, I’m stupid, I am so fucking stupid, thank you!” Khaled cried. He nuzzled his cold wet face into Tom’s warm neck and peppered the man’s jawline with kisses, murmuring his gratitude between every kiss. He was alive, he didn’t die, and that was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“Let’s go home,” Thomas said, hoisting Khaled onto his feet. “The takeout I bought is getting cold, and you need a change of pants.”

He led the young man through the woods back to side of the road where he had parked his car. “I was completely serious about you never seeing anybody else again, by the way,” he reminded him as he opened the passenger side door. Khaled slid gratefully inside, happy to be in the heated part of the car. “You are relieved of your duties to the organization from now on,” Tom continued as he joined him on the driver’s side, “You are demoted to domestic service. You will stay at home and keep the penthouse spotless, welcoming me to it every evening with warm food and your warmer body. You will stay in the apartment and not leave for anything unless it is with me or a trusted associate. You will never see anybody again. That’ll keep you from conspiring to kill me, or from spreading your legs for anyone else but me, and only I will decide when it’s time to bring you back out again.” He pushed the button and started up the vehicle, setting the heaters to full blast.

Khaled nodded. What did he care about being stuck at home and never seeing anybody again? He was alive, and right now, as he held his freezing fingers close to the vents, that was all that mattered.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[virtu4l-archieve]

and this, your living kiss || opal_bullets

rating: explicit

audio length: 7 hr. 5 min.

ship: dean/cas

tags: poetry, writer!dean, professor!castiel, college au, john winchester's a+ parenting, mentions of past prostitution, mentions of cancer, angst with a happy ending

summary: after years of no longer writing poetry under the name jack allen, dean begand to crave a sense of being alive again. he suddenly decides to move in with sam and elienne, along with their son jack. searching for answers dean reaches out to his old mentor, missouri moseley, who recommended dean to audit an advanced college course in poetry taught by professor castiel novak. who happens to not only be devastatingly handsome and see something in dean, but happens to also be academic’s expert on jack allen.

um does anyone have any poetry recommendations? i’m searching for the similar highs i get from hearing jack allen’s poems. read this fic. read this fic. read this fic. actually- listen to it instead! atylk is known as a classic deancas fic- AND ITS FOR A REASON! i loved it found myself shrieking and talking to myself out of pure excitement as i listened. (god bless podfics!) i’ll definitely listen to it again in the future. xx

[mishkakagehishka]

Feminism lost its teeth since capitalism and the patriarchy co-opted it let's be real. But nobody wants to think about how being a feminist (and feeling """morally superior""") is much easier when you can say every choice you make is a feminist choice bc you're a woman than if you actually had to change your lifestyle in a way that goes against society and its expectations/norms to actually fight against the patriarchy.

[cozzzynook]

Rodimus needing touch to survive.

Rodimus needing touch to survive fuels me because he almost doesn’t survive sparklinghood because he didn’t have his creators and was only touched every so often by the caregivers in sparkling centers.

Its how he developed a spark condition and his touch condition, an actual medical condition among species, doesn’t get noticed and neither does his spark condition for a long long time.

He knew something was wrong but Nyon was poor and medibots were only for those actively dying so he never saw a medical officer until he was in the army like many bots and they only discovered his very serious and now permanent spark condition when it was too late to cure.

First aid treats him and the mech misses his touch condition but Rodimus figured it out on his own after looking through archives.

That explains why he felt so sick after going without touch from others and why he became so weak.

As a young mech during his days on Nyon and as a freedom fighter, he was still an adult just a fresh adult, he resorted to unsavory means of getting touch.

Letting mechs at night alley clubs touch on his frame was disgusting but it made his frame feel better so he just accepted that this was his life.

It made him develop an unhealthy relationship with touch that was further ruined as the war grew and he got older.

Touch that came on his frame during parties turned to him going to habs and sucking spike.

He felt like share ware and hated what it did to him mentally but by then he knew he needed touch and friendly touch wasn’t something their species did freely. So his only option was sucking spike or eating out valves or playing with cyber fuel tissue under a mech or femmes chassis.

Its how he got so skilled at fragging.

He had a routine he learned early on.

Go to the parties or accept the advantages of mechs and femmes and then pleasure them so they would touch along his frame.

He would make them overload, clean them up and leave.

He was a good time share ware that never let a mech or femme inside of him. He wanted to save that for someone he actually felt was special to him but as war raged and time went on he felt it was pointless. He’d never have that, not with a reputation for being share ware that reached the decepticons side.

He’d pleasured a lot of them as well and was thankful it was kept quiet.

By the time he joined the lost light he was surprised no bot aboard his crew wanted him to pleasure them. Then he remembered he was captain.

That would bring some complications.

At least he thought it would.

Turns out Drift was very touchy and for the first time in his life he didn’t have to frag for touch since he could live off Drift and surprisingly Ratchets touches.

He was completely surprised by this and he found himself feeling more at ease now that he wasn’t always looking for his next source of touch.

Of course he still caught himself every time making sure he didn’t drop to his knees to pleasure either of them or Megatron when the large mech joined aboard.

Surprisingly enough it was the former warlord who figured it out a long time ago and asked him if he had enough for today.

Rodimus wanted to play like he didn’t know what the mech was talking about but Megs look didn’t let him and he nodded.

“Did you know? Back then? When we…”

The flashes of Megatron taking him apart crossed his processor when the two were stuck under the rubble towards the end of the war. Rodimus had pleasured Megatron before that on plenty of occasions but it was under the rubble that Megatron asked permission to break his seal if he allowed him. If not, he would simply hold him.

It was…easier letting the mech break his seal than hold him.

But it left him craving far more than he knew possible when they finished.

So he guesses maybe he should’ve just let the mech hold him.

“Yes…I’ve seen a few times. You never let us pleasure you back and you never stayed to rest either. It was hard not to see.”

“Is that why you gripped my hand…”

His silence was long, both of theirs was.

“One of them.”

Rodimus whipped his helm to look at the mech and his spark ached.

“Oh..”

Gentle digits caressed his face plates and his frame hungered for more but this time it felt different.

“Touch me..?”

“Your frame needs more?”

Rodimus looked so tired as tears disobeyed him. He couldn’t hold optic contact and Megatron couldn’t pretend he hadn’t learned about spark conditions after realizing Rodimus had one as he soothed the turbulent blue flare hidden by chest plates.

“No..I do.”

Megatron wasn’t touch starved by medical means…but Rodimus made him feel like he was emotionally in need of medical treatment.

“Then let me? I’ll take care of you.”

It was effortless to lower Rodimus into berth and wall him in to stop his nervous shivers as he cried clinging to Megatron.

“Its..I’m wrong…I’m not..I’m too much..I’m not..I’m not good,” he sobbed.

His spark was granted whole just to be torn apart.

“To me you are,” Megatron promised low, faintly touching their forehelms, dermas ghosting each other as their palms danced into a tight hold.

“To me, you are worth everything,” his spark spoke for him.

There is no cure for the type of touch starved damage Rodimus has.

But the medicine to make it stable and more than livable is found in a spark bond.

His life has become so much easier after that night.

[ravenzeppeli]

Claimed

Chapter 40 - History Finds Itself Repeating|Formaggio + Illuso x Reader Angst|

Warning: strong/vulgar language, cheating, stalking, physical abuse, verbal abuse, noncon threat, choking [murder attempt], extremely dark chapter. MA.

2 Months Later

Formaggios POV

"Thanks," Formaggio muttered, tossing two 50s on the ground next to the random blonde that just finished sucking him off. "Make sure to keep your fucking mouth shut. Last bitch told my girl, she don't need to know this shit." He turned to the side, sliding the condom filled with cum off of his cock, letting it fall to the ground. The condom made a plop on the ground, his sticky white cum spilling out all over the alleyway floor.

"I'll keep my mouth shut," the girl muttered, snatching the money off of the ground. "Your cock is like, so amazing. I wish that you would be my boyfriend. You're so handsome."

A laugh escaped his lips, his eyes rolling. "You don't gotta compliment me for more money, honey. You did okay, I'll give you a little tip." He slid a 20 out of his pocket, this time handing it to the young woman on her knees in front of him. "My girl never fucking compliments me."

"I'm sorry," she replied, taking the 20 and shoving it in her bra, along with the two 50s. "If you're ever looking for a girlfriend, I would compliment you every day. A strong man like you deserves to be loved."

Money was a little tight, as it always is. The boss hardly paid him shit, but this little honey was feeding into his ego hard. Being complimented by a woman felt so nice. Why couldn't you compliment him like this? It'd be nice to hear how sexy and strong he was from the woman he loved instead of some random honey.

"Just take the rest of the night off, honey," he replied, slipping a 50 out of his pocket and handing it to her. "Buy yourself something pretty. And remember, if you run into my girl, walk the other way immediately. I don't wanna hear her pretty little mouth bitching me out for having fun." Fun, it was just harmless fun. Harmless fun that you wouldn't find out about again.

💜🧡💜🧡💜

Formaggio never felt bad about his personal affairs. What a man did in their private business was their business alone. He took good care of you, and he made sure that you were happy. Sharing you with six other men also made him feel less guilty about getting his dick sucked. It's not like he was fucking these girls and spending time with them. It was just a way to relax after a hard day. What's the harm in that?

He planned to approach you as soon as he entered the base, but you were already outside as he walked over to the front entrance. Illuso was standing directly beside you, his hand having an iron grip on your waist.

"I'm going to tell him what you've been doing," Illuso immediately snapped at you, unwrapping his arm from around you, his eyes locking onto Formaggio. "Are you fucking clueless? Am I fucking clueless?" He questioned, red eyes filled with a mix of panic and anger.

A feeling of anger quickly washed over Formaggio, looking past Illuso to land his glare directly on you. "What the fuck did you do?" He had no fucking clue what you could have possibly done, considering you were a pretty low maintenance and well behaved girlfriend. Never did he have to do much of anything with you unless he wanted too. He couldn't even recall a time where you've ever asked him for anything.

"I didn't do anything," you muttered, eyes dropping to the ground. "Just drop it, Illuso. You don't need to bring Formaggio or anyone else into this. We've all done bad things here, and my thing is less bad."

"Shut your fucking mouth," Illuso snapped at you, turning back to look at you. "It doesn't matter what the fuck we do! You mind your goddamn business like we mind ours when it comes to you! You fucked up, you crossed a goddamn line!"

"Fucks going on?" Formaggio questioned, stepping forward, feeling completely fucking clueless. What could you have possibly done that was so fucking bad? That would actually cause him to give the slightest fuck? "You cheating on us? That what it is?" A scoff escaped your lips, his eyebrows immediately shooting up in surprise. "Illuso, what did she do?" He didn't take his eyes off of you.

Illuso walked past Formaggio, hand reaching forward as he grabbed your jaw, his fingers tucking under your chin as he yanked your head up, forcing you to look at Formaggio, "She's been fucking following us. Watching us. For goddamn three months."

"What?" Formaggio questioned, more shocked than angry. How did he not know that you were watching him? This had to be a misunderstanding. You weren't capable of anything. For fucks sake, he never even let you use your stand, he just made you drive them around while they did the heavy lifting. All you were was just their pretty little girlfriend, you weren't capable of successful stalking anyone. Suddenly, he laughed, shaking his head. "If you caught her doing it once then it doesn't mean that she's done it before." Fuck, Illuso was an idiot.

At times, you were a little sneaky. He'll give you that. During the night, you always seemed to slip out of his bed before he woke up. It's been months since he's woken up, and you've been next to him. Even when he clings to you, you still find a way to sneak out of his bed and go sit on the couch or in the dining room. Maybe you were just good at walking on your toes, he didn't fucking know.

Illuso let out a dry laugh, "She's been paying the girls that have been sucking our dicks." His grip seemed to tighten as the amusement suddenly draining from Formaggios face. "Wanna know how I found out? It was pure fucking luck, all because I mark the money that I give Y/N." His eyes immediately cut over to you. "You think you're so fucking smart, don't you? Think you're smart enough to embarrass us and never get caught?"

"You only got caught because you do what he does," you spoke calmly, giving your shoulders a gentle shrug. "It's more complex than that."

Formaggio felt as if his heart was about to explode out of his chest. With disbelief, he stared at you, shocked that you actually did all of this without getting caught. "How did you catch her?" He muttered, not taking his glare off of you as he stepped closer, leaning down slightly so that he was in your face. "More complex?" He felt like a goddamn idiot. How could he not have realized you were watching him? How did he not know that you were aware of his cheating? Goddamnit!

"I went to get my dick sucked this morning. Asked the girl for change, and she pulled out a bunch of 20s," Illuso spoke, shaking his head. "When I give Y/N money, I mark the right hand corner with a small red x to see if she ever uses the money I give her. When I threatened to blow the girls brains out, she spilled the beans and told me everything. Says our little girlfriend approached her and some other girls, paying them to give us longer and better blow jobs."

"Why the fuck would you want us to cheat on you?" Formaggio snapped, his hands balling into fists. "Y/N, what the fuck?"

You said nothing, your eyes dropping to avoid his glare. Visibly, you were stiff, uncomfortable with how close he was. How close they both were. Nearly 8 months together, and still you couldn't stand him. Still you made him fuck you with a condom on as if he had a fucking disease. All this was starting to really get under his skin, and he had a feeling that Illuso felt the same way as him.

"She's trying to get us to fall in love with another girl," Illuso muttered, his hands dropping to your throat, jaw locking. "That fucking bitch told me everything Y/N. How you approached them and were paying them, telling them be extra nice to us and compliment us. I was wondering why all these random cunts were saying my dicks amazing and I'm fucking attractive. You fucking little.. you.. you fucking..." He seemed to be struggling to find the words, his hand grasping tighter at your throat. "How dare you humiliate me!"

Formaggio stepped back a little, not being able to take his eyes off of you. This was insane. He had no idea that you were capable of doing something like this for months without getting caught. On top of that, all these random women now think that his girl hates him! This was a tricky situation because both Illuso and him did tell you that they wouldn't cheat on you. So your lie was just a reflection of their lie, so what the fucks he supposed to do?

"Can't we just be coworkers?" You questioned softly, that getting you an instant slap across the face from Illuso. "Is that a yes? We can just coexist together. You can do your thing, guys, and it'll be fine. I just feel like it would be better if you both broke up with me." The slap didn't even make you flinch, the red handprint mark staining the side of your cheek, your head remaining in place.

"You're gonna get a beating," Illuso snapped, raising his hand, Formaggio immediately noticing that it was a fist. Quickly, he grabbed Illusos fist, dragging him away from you. "Man, what are you doing!? We need to beat her ass! She's been doing crazy shit all because she wants us to dump her!"

Beating you was something that Formaggio so badly wanted to do. Of course, he wanted to punch you in the face and bend you over his lap. So badly, did he want to scream at you and threaten you for stalking him, scare you so badly that you throw up all over yourself like you did last time. When you acted up, you deserved a good beating. That's just what happened when you crossed lines. But a different idea suddenly crossed his mind.

"You know, a lot of times you've stalked Illuso and I, it's been at night," Formaggio added in, causing Illuso to immediately freeze. "Doesn't Ghiaccio have a certain rule that forbids you from going out at night all alone? One that will get you in trouble with him?" You weren't the only one that fucking knew things.

Dread washed over your face, a smirk quickly spreading over Illusos. "I think I should give Ghiaccio a call and tell him," Illuso added in. "I bet he would be so fucking pissed at you. It would probably ruin your relationship with him."

Formaggio let Illuso go, staring into your eyes and finally seeing that you were nervous. This was his chance. "We aren't going to be leaving you. In fact, I think it's time you tell us something very important." He placed his hands on your shoulders, forcing you down to your kness. "Get on your knees you stalking cunt, don't say shit or I'll call Ghiaccio."

You let him force you to your kness, a smug look appearing on Illusos' face as he stepped forward. "Look up at us." Grabbing a fistful of your hair as he leaned down, he snatched your head back, forcing you to look at them. "You're so smart, aren't you? We'll turn you into a dumb bitch."

"Don't hurt me," you muttered, "I didn't do anything wrong. If anything, I was helping you both out. I don't love either of you, I want you to spend more time with those other girls. The less I see you both the better." How are you still not fucking scared of them? You should be begging not to get beat, not pushing them further!

"You disobedient bitch," snapped Illuso, but his grip loosened on your hair. "I love you, you clueless fucking cunt! I fucking love you! That was the first time in two months that I cheated!"

Formaggio smacked Illusos' arm. "It's not cheating if it's condom blow jobs! It's not cheating if we fucking pay for it!" He raised his hand again, wanting to slap Illuso, but that was mainly due to his frustration with you. "Illuso, fuck this bitch. Fuck her. She doesn't love us. She never will. She's just pussy, that's all she'll ever be in this family."

"I'm a part of this team, and you'll never be able to get rid of me," you spat out, your blank face turning dark. A glare that he found more cute than threatening spread across your face, your eyes locking onto Formaggio. "You are a garbage excuse for a man. I hate you, and I hate you more than I hate Illuso. Laying down next to you at night makes me feel sick. I hate when you fucking touch me. I'll never care about you cheating, it just makes you look like a jackass. Enjoy never being cared about by me, I can't stand you bitch. Call Ghiaccio and tell him. I don't give a fuck."

A man can only take so much before they snap. Fuck it, he didn’t give a fuck. Fuck holding back and not hitting you. With all of his force he raised his fist, cracking it into the side of your skull. He didn't care about damaging you brain. In this moment he found himself wanting to fucking rip you apart. If only he was allowed to use his stand on you. He would shrink you and finally make you feel fear. Risotto knew all of them so well, it was smart that he forbid the men from using their stands on you. If he didn't respect and secretly fear Risotto then he would break that rule, but he wouldn't dare cross his capo.

Your head roughly jerked to the side, blood beginning to pour from the side of your skull. If it wasn't for the grip that Illuso had on your hair, then you would have probably collapsed. Illuso immediately let go of your hair, your back leaning against the brick wall as your head limply hung. Silence came from you, your body still as a rock despite the drops of blood that puddled in front of you.

"You want me as an enemy, you fucking bitch!?" Formaggio yelled at you, pushing back Illuso roughly as he tried to grab him. "You got one now. We are done, just like you want. You aren't my girl anymore, and now that I have no reason to protect you I'm going to make your life a living hell! I'm going to break you, I'm going to destroy you!" He dropped to his kness in front of you, hands tightly grasping around your throat, forcing you to look at him. Forcing you to show fear. "CRY! YOU FUCKING CUNT, CRY!"

With speed, you spit in his face, coating his face with your bloody spit. A forced smile suddenly spread across your lips, and that smile was meant to taunt him. "I'm free from you. Why cry?"

"If we fuck her up too bad then we're fucked," Illuso quickly added in just as Formaggios hands tightly locked around your throat. "Let go of her throat man, you're going too far." He felt Illusos hand on his shoulder, attempting to pull him back.

Just as he was about to let go, you said something that completely stunned him. "You drove your family to suicide," you gasped out, your voice hoarse. "You're a curse!"

The consequences were clear and laid out in front of him. If you died because of him, then his death would follow. Hell, even Illuso might end up dying. Killing you would be him outright betraying his entire team as well as the little bit of love he had for you. He did love you, in his own sick and twisted way, but he didn't have self-control right now. Not after what you just fucking said to him. Today.. all three of them were going to die and he didn't care. He wasn't afraid of death. Fuck this. Fuck everything. How dare you bring up his mom and sister.

"I LOVED MY MOM AND SISTER!" He screamed, beginning to squeeze as tightly as he could, watching the life drain from your eyes. Good. Die. "Die, die you fucking cunt! I hope you burn in fucking hell bitch!"

"Formaggio, no!" Illusos fist suddenly cracked into the side of Formaggios face, his nose immediately leaking blood as he let go of your throat, his nose making a weird popping sound. "She's my girlfriend too! You can't fucking kill her! Want us all to die!?"

"FUCK HER!" Formaggio snapped, quickly getting off at you, ignoring your low gasps for air. He grabbed his nose, giving your stomach a rough kick as he got up, a satisfied hum escaping his lips as you finally yelped in pain. "Look at you now.. pathetic as you were the last time I beat the fuck out of you!"

Temporarily, he let his anger turn towards Illuso. He raised his hand to punch Illuso, freezing when he felt your hands suddenly wrap around his ankles, weakly attempting to pull his leg back. What the fuck?! You should be crying in pain and begging for his mercy!

"P-pussy," you spat out, voice hoarse and weak. "I.. would have.. finished the job!"

Formaggio reached for his gun, Illuso grabbing his hand, stopping him from blowing your brains out. "Let's just fucking leave. She's supposed to be spending the night with me. We'll just leave her at the base. Fuck it," Illuso told him, keeping his eyes on him. "Please don't fucking kill her. Just chill man."

You let go of his ankle, your hand grasping the brick wall as you began to slowly rise to your feet, your face completely hidden from him. From a gap in your hair, he saw a dark bruise on your neck, a pool of blood surrounding you. "Just.. fuck off.. let me be.. alone," you whispered, slowly moving towards the door. "Both of you.. no more.. relationship. Break up forever." You were hardly making any sense, but he could get what you were trying to say.

"I didn't break up with you," Illuso snapped at you. "And I never will! You are my girl, and you are a Formaggios girl, whether you like it or not! Go be a good girl and clean yourself up and go lay the fuck down!"

"Scum," you spat at him, a sigh immediately escaping his lips as he reached past you, opening the base of the front door with one agressive twist and push. "Bitch."

"Go to bed," Illuso commanded, pointing inside of the base. "We love you. Don't you fucking forget that. Families fight but they stick together."

"Neither one of you are my family," you muttered, this coming out more clear as you shuffled into the house. "Dumb fucks."

The insults were pissing Formaggio off, making him want to attack, but he was holding his composition. You were too far for him to successfully be able to prick your finger and shrink you without Illuso striking, and maybe killing you was a bad idea. In so many ways, you provided them with love and comfort. That was something that he didn't want to let go of despite almost taking your life. Fuck.. he made a mistake.

"You're still my girl bitch," Formaggio called out, keeping his eyes on you as you vanished into the base. "And I'll be coming back here expecting an apology real soon! Straighten yourself out cunt, I can do what I want with you! I'll fuck you up while I fuck you! I could fuck you right now if I wanted too!"

"Don't threaten to rape her man," Illuso snapped, his eyes going wide. "Fuck, you need to take a break from her! Stop talking to her, and you shut the fuck up too Y/N!"

Formaggio assumed it was over until he heard your footsteps immediately running back, something immediately crashing into the side of his skull. "Goddamnit!" He screamed as he heard something shatter, his hand immediately raising to the side of his face. Blood leaked from the left side of his face, his eyes trailing down to a broken glass ashtray in front of him. No way. No goddamn way did you actually come back and throw something at him. He was stunned, completely stunned that you dared to throw something at him.

"How about I fuck you!?" You screamed, rushing towards him. "I'll fuck you up! Want me to rape you!? I'll do it, I'll be the one that ends you before you end me!"

Illuso launched at you before you could get to Formaggio, lifting you up. "Y/N, relax! Nobody is raping anyone, for fucks sake! Formaggio, just leave, I'm staying with her!" He dragged you into the base, slamming the door shut. "Hey, do not fucking hit me! Stop it right now Y/N, I'm in no mood to have a fist fight with you!"

Formaggio stood stunned, his eyes wide, actual tears filling his eyes as he realized that he made a big mistake. It didn't matter if Little Feet made no appearance. With his bare hands, he almost murdered you. If Illuso hadn't cracked him in the nose, then he probably would have killed you. Fuck. This was very bad.

The blood pouring from his head and nose indicated that he probably needed to go get looked at. The pain he felt throughout his entire body was sharp, a low ringing beginning form in his ears. Almost killing you should have broken you, but from the banging and yelling that he heard from Illuso inside indicated he might have awoken something very bad in you. This was too far. All you did was stalk them and pay some girls to compliment them. Why does he instantly lose his cool? He just couldn't help it. The fact that you still didn't love him and made him wear a condom to fuck you.. it really bothers him.

Going in there and helping Illuso with you would be a bad idea, considering that you were attempting to fucking attack him. Hopefully he could convince you to keep your mouth shut or come up with a good lie. Fuck, he needed to convince you to keep being his girl too. Thank God Melone and Ghiaccio were out of town for a few days, and Pesci didn't fucking intimidate him. You just could not tell Risotto. Now that he was starting to calm down this wasn't worth dying for, and he might just end up getting fucking killed for what he did to you.

[littlegildedswallow]

radfems, here's some all rounded perspective about prostitution, poverty, child trafficking (and how the rich are involved in all of it), organ harvesting and forced labor in India.

MASSIVE trigger warning, obviously. This woman is an activist who has rescued thousands of women from prostitution/fast fashion factories etc. and we've never heard of her.

in the end, it all comes down to male depravity and poverty. this was a horrifying and eye opening watch. there's english subtitles, even though they're not great.

@ihatemenandtherearereasons

[marietheran]

some of y'all would have bought finnick tbh

[vivi-scera]

ohhhh i have so many questions to ask now that i apologize beforehand for throwing you questions instead of actually giving a response-reply to your ask 😭

1) “i like thinking about jason-robin's relationship with bruce the most but i like tim as robin best” plss if u could pls elaborate on this? this is so interesting bcs for a second i thought it would be jason robin or even dick robin since hes the first one!

2) ”i think i was mostly thinking bruce/jason since i was talking about johndean” this is interesting too bcs i was hyperfocused on comparing dean’s devotion to dick’s, hence my ask & why i bring dick robin specifically, and now im curious abt your comparison :D

3) “i'm going to be actively problematic and say that bruce sees dick as something less than his partner and something more than his son” is it like what i think it is is it more in line with smth smth owning smth smth *eyes emoji*

4) your tags!! thats interesting too that you prefer jaytim as batcest, instead of like timdick whos more like brothers or jaydick with jason’s “envy” (to simplify it) at dick’s golden boy ness (also to simplify it) which could be a source of conflict between jason & bruce

haha no worries, i did totally set you up.

1.yeah so tim is my favorite robin <3 relatively unpopular opinion to have in my immediate circle apparently. though probably not as unpopular as saying damian is your favorite. but like, tim's the underdog! the odd one out!! he understands the meta-narrative role that robin plays in batman's life and tries to fulfill it. he's such a deeply interesting character not only in how he views himself as the weakest robin/the robin batman didn't choose, but also in how the other robins, canonically, view tim as the best out of them (because he's the most like daddy). i don't mind as much when fanon obfuscates his characterization because he really can be such a blank slate, more or less. as in, meta-narratively, tim decides to be whatever/whoever is best for batman, erasing the part of himself that is tim drake in favor of coalescing with "robin". he's the only robin who really is robin. which is really very tragic if you think about it. but also makes for fantastic bruce/tim fodder :) i would expand more on my love for tim but this ask would get WAY too long. read Liminal Space by Calamityjim on ao3 if you've watched young justice and have read the red robin 2009 run (an EXCELLENT read btw) if you want the gist of the angst.

as for the others, i think jason has had the best character evolution —not just in the batman storyline but as a comic character in general. i really think his death, and to a much lesser extent his rebirth, is the best/most impactful development in all of superhero comic history. superheroes as we know them today would largely not exist without his character. dick is fine, i like him third best. just because he was the first doesn't make him special to me lmao. the fact that others came after him is what makes him interesting to me, in addition to his relationship with batman— which is currently the most interesting batman-robin romantic relationship to me rn. i've seen some insane meta about him around but mostly based on somewhat outdated runs, which really doesn't mean anything when it comes to comics i guess. i don't think he's been in anything interesting/good in over a decade. i also wish i could mail tom taylor anthrax <3 damian is... my least favorite (skipping steph, sorryy i do love her but there's not enough canon for me to have an actual opinion). i think damian's interesting but only as a source of conflict (and ofc his dynamic with dick-batman). he doesn't really stand on his own and he's annoying.

2. i don't necessarily think that bruce/jason is closer to johndean than bruce/dick is (i actually think bruce/tim is closer relatively, but there's not a comparable pairing imo. i also just don't think dick is necessarily "devoted" to batman as much as tim is. his goals, like mentioned, align more with being able to call himself bruce's equal, which could be conflated with desire i.e. in bruce/dick). but there are a lot of functional aspects of the jason-robin & batman dynamic that is parallel to the relationship between dean and john as hunters imo— mostly having to do with consensual practices. is dean/jason-robin in control of his narrative purpose as a hunter/sidekick or are they doing what is necessary to survive? what does it mean for either of them when duty and pleasure are conflated? etc. i really love the headcanon that jason was a child-prostitute, which would be a functional role that carried over in being robin for another older man, so that was mostly where i was coming from. child soldiers... can't get enough of em.

3. haha i don't really know what the "something" is that i was referring to, just some vague middle ground that's gonna go undefined because where's the fun in defining the relationship that a man shares with the preteen ward in his possession who he may or may not want to be his son but who he treats like a spouse because mentally & emotionally he hasn't moved on from the day he was 9 years old and his parents died. maybe dick grows up but bruce never will :'). well, maybe he grows up a little when each robin leaves him

4. and yaaaa jaytim, favorite pairing of all time. they can be enemies to lovers. the ghost and the haunted. rebecca and the narrator. brother-rivals trying to become their father but who are held back by the lack of a quality that the other possesses (see nearmello death note). i'm gonna go the fanon route and say jason was tim's robin (even though, timeline wise, it could totally have been dick). so there is that adoration-envy (that tim would have for jason) that jason would have for dick in jaydick (which is a pairing i also like, don't get me wrong! i just maybe like it as a one-sided thing. or we could have the worst love triangle in the world with damian->tim->jason->dick->bruce all unrequited lmao). but in jaytim there's the addition of the danger element— jason at one point or another did want to kill tim. and not only was jason tim's robin, he was also his ghost story! an example of what would happen to tim if something went wrong. so adoration-envy-fear which transmutes to sexual interest. very sadomasochistic route we could take there. and for jason, tim is the kid who replaced him! who's evidently better at being daddy's favorite! he can die psychosexually mad about it. neither timdick or jaydick have that enemies/lovers edge that i really like (see kurokura hunter x hunter). they also just have some interesting canon history that writers never get into— like batman-jason trying to conscript tim as his robin during battle for the cowl. i am TRYING to write a jaytim fic but i keep getting distracted by other pairings. i thought i was gonna get to it after finishing the one i'm working on but i might just do brudick next so we'll see. send more questions/responses if you have them <3

[marinerainbow]

...

Career swap AU

Shiny is a big crime boss in Toontown. She's most renowned for the distribution of illegal substances and prostitution, but she is not above committing other crimes for the right price. She can very easily be cruel- she has to be to keep her power, but those within her inner circle know how playful and soft she can be. She's also known for having ~relations~ with whoever serves as her right hand. She had to 'fire' her latest confidant, and is on the lookout for someone new. Someone who has a good head on their shoulders, and could help out with paperwork (she does admit, that's not her biggest forte), but also has a heart that wouldn't cast her to the sharks the next chance they get... An added bonus would be if they were a cutie pie.

Poppy fell on hard times since Henry left her to Downtown. She wasn't so lucky to find a clean job here, but managed to find one in the entertainment industry... Even if it is a far different kind of entertainment she's not at all used to. She started out as just a pianist for the burlesque club, part of the band. But her boss has been trying to slowly integrate her in stage performances, knowing that she's too desperate to say no despite her stage fright. Right now, she can be seen as either a backup dancer, or will even have a sole singing performance. This has gained her quite a bit of unwanted attention, and Poppy has become far more wary of people now... The pretty weasel lady that comes in sometimes is nice though.

The weasels all still live together. However, they all managed to take a more lawful path. Smartass stayed in school and got his law degree. Greasy worked his way onto the radio and is constantly trying to convince his boss to let him play more risqué songs on his channel. Wheezy, after the war, started working as a dockworker carrying cargo to and from ships. Psycho always had an affinity with electricity and tinkering, and found a nice job with Toontowns electric company. Just be sure to keep an eye on him while he's in your house. And Stupid... It has been difficult for him to keep a steady job, but he does help around the house while the others are away. Someone's gotta take care of the place while everyone else is bust, right?

I kinda like this idea, though I'm not sure where I'm gonna go with it. So I'll just leave it here.

[gwenevieves-travels]

Meet the gang Pt. 1!

[anniflamma]

It always makes me laugh to think that the Apostle Paul's Hebrew name is Saul and his Roman name is Paul. Considering that Jesus healed the centurion's servant, he had no interest in homophobia, but considering that Paul left that infamous homophobic letter… Paul (Saul): I don't know why, but I feel like I lost my crown, which I never had, because of my gay son and bisexual son-in-law.

Hehe, I'm going to dump my knowledge of the Bible now! XD

I guess the 'infamous homophobic letter' you mentioned is the Corinthians, right?

Paul says that individuals who continue in sinful behavior will not attain heaven and among these 'sinners' were drunkards, people who bangs alot, and cheaters. He also references two Greek words that many translate and associate as expressions of same-sex behavior. These two words are malakoi and arsenokoitai.

Of course, these are the words throughout history that translators have had the worst time translating, and of course, homophobes change the meanings of what these words actually means.

Malakoi directly translates into 'soft,' and it was usually used to describe someone who lacks self-control and is weak, cowardly, and lazy.

Of course, people being sexist and all translate this word to 'effeminate' instead. Because women are lazy and cowards, I suppose... 🙄 Instead, the word doesn't really have anything to do with gay men, but it could have a connection when you use the word in a sexual context. However, that word is frequently used to describe men who were seen as lacking self-control in their love for... women.... For the past centuries, English translations used the word 'weaklings'. It's only in the past century that they connected the word with same-sex relationships instead.

Arsenokoitai comes from two Greek words: arsen (male) koites (bed). This is the word that makes many speculate that this term was used to condemn same-sex behavior. Alas again! CONTEXT 👏 ALWAYS 👏 MATTERS! 👏 The word likely relates to sexual or economic exploitation, due to in ancient literature, the word only appears in lists of vices. Some historians even think that this was about temple prostitution. So yeah, it probably relates to same-sex behavior, but not in a consensual way.

And then we have the whole deal that many people points out... The dude was a Roman who could speak Greek... Why didn't he just use the words Erastes and Eromenos if he wanted to be really clear to condemn same-sex behaviors? Malakoi and Arsenokoitai have never really been used as a pair by other ancient writers.

So again, why didn't Paul just use the already existing term that was associated with same-sex behaviors? Why not the latter? Hmmm... Mystery.... 😶

And I'm not going to talk about the Romans letters because there he just slut-shaming EVERYONE!

I'm definitely wanna/gonna talk about Paul's sexuality! But that will be later... I need to rest!

(ps. I don't really know if you even wanted to know this, but here we are... I also feel like I spiraled a bit… Sorry!)

[swagging-back-to]

i always hate the 'im protecting my girls from those brutish pimps' narrative from madams.

youre selling them. you are getting paid to sit back and watch them be raped. to schedule their rapes. you are just as bad as any other pimp; because that's what you are.