#she has sex

[stark-illerbase]

If yall wanna criticize the fandom surrounding the Fallout show for shipping Ghoulcy over VaultKnight and call out racism that's VALID.

If your distate for the ship comes from the fact that there is a canon main character of color and people would rather ship Lucy with the corpse cowboy, that's FINE.

But if ur really out here going "he's 200 years old" "he was too old for her BEFORE the bombs dropped" "he kept her as a prisoner" "he tried to drown her" "he cut her finger off"

I literally do not care.

[floweroflaurelin]

I’mma sing you a sacred psalm

On your knees, pray along…

—

We did a Hatchetfield marathon recently and my decade-long on-again off-again Starkid obsession came ROARING back!! Grace Chasity was designed to appeal to everything I love to paint, so naturally here I am ✨

[laniidae-passerine]

don’t get how you can watch iwtv and be a sincere diehard lestat hater. like the world’s biggest lestat hater is louis and that man can’t even commit to it for more than five minutes before literally hallucinating lestat wearing a wedding ring and talking pretty to him. this show is about louis and every road leads back to lestat for that man

[zarnzarn]

Athena shoots upright as soon as her eyes fly open, gasping. She calls on her spear and slashes in a brutal curve, provoking shouts from the enemies who'd been holding her down as they back off. Bares her teeth in a snarl as she grabs the sheets off the bed to whip at the eyes of the assailants and-

Light floods into her eyes as they step away from her attack and she freezes as she remembers a flash of brightness too fast to escape, heat and burning like never before, electricity that seeped into her very bones, thunder that deafened, lightning that hurt-

"Get back!" She hears and turns unsteadily back to- back to where Apollo is pulling Ares back by the cape against the far wall. Apollo. Ares. Aphrodite, Aephestus, Artemis.

"Wh-" She manages, before she's bowled over, coughing. She has never done it before, and she can't stop it from happening- chest rattling as her knees give out, barely holding herself up with her spear in time to reach the bed. It doesn't stop, doesn't stop, plumes of smoke escaping her mouth as she can't stop, can't breathe-

"Athena," Hera whispers, and a rough hand gently touches her on the shoulder, handing her a glass of nectar. She accepts it gratefully, tilting her head back to down it. It's soothing like it's never been before, stoping the coughing at last and it clears her headache long enough to realize that she isn't in her armour- she's in a chiton.

"Where is my armour?" She rasps as soon as she can, wiping her mouth. Looks around- Apollo's chambers.

She'd always known being the favourite wouldn't protect her forever. But repeating the words didn't seem to reduce the hurt.

Nor the shaking fear.

"-not!" Apollo is saying, indignantly setting his hands on his hips. "Do you have any idea how hard you got hit? You're lucky I could even stabilize your aspect enough to reduce some of the damage, otherwise you'd still be having a seizure back at Mount Olympus!"

"Mount Olympus," Athena mutters oddly, without much intent to it. She tries to stand again and her vision suddenly cuts out, provoking a round of screams as she loses her balance.

When the world blurrily comes back into focus- and she doesn't like this, hates this sudden weakness; she's always been able to get back up from any blow, has never visited a medical chamber in her existence, even when they had to fight the Titans- she's in Ares' arms, oddly horizontal.

"Cease this stupidity, sister," Artemis hisses at her as she grabs onto Athena's arms to bring her back to the bed. "Calm yourself. You are alive. You are safe."

"My armour," Athena says, voice cracking, head rolling oddly on her neck, unable to look upright. She catches a glimpse of Aephastus holding onto a sobbing Aphrodite, staring at her with a strange sort of sorrow.

Something twinges in Athena's chest in reply, but she stumbles before she can address it, feeling a fission of panic at the instability before Ares' grip on her tightens enough to keep her upright. They're all staring at her like that, she realizes, with that same horrified heartbreak.

"Didn't Artemis just tell you to cease stupidity?" Ares barks, though it's rather quietly said, for him. He adjusts her on the bed until she can lean back against the pillows. His hands are shaking, and Athena stares at them with curiosity. "Weren't you the one to lecture me half to death about when to remove the armour?"

"What," She says weakly, then moans as an aftershock trembles through her, residual sparks humming maliciously as they exit her skin, leaving her trembling. "I- hmmm, what? What were- what were-"

"Athena, calm down, please, you're scaring us," Hera says, bangles jangling as she sits down next to her, taking one of Athena's hands with desperation. Athena tilts her head to squint, noticing the tears for the first time, before she shudders as her skin registers the heat, the unbearable heat.

"Scaring?" She murmurs when it stops, voice coming out smaller than she intended it to.

"Her fever keeps rising and falling," Apollo reenters the room before anyone can answer, carrying a large tub of some odd liquid. "Here, help me rub this on her skin, it should extract any remaining- any remaining lightning."

They all move towards the tub at the same time, dipping the cloths provided and then taking positions in a circle surrounding her. Athena stiffens, fingers twitching for a weapon, but the first touch of Hera's drenched cloth on her forehead makes her moan in relief, the blessed coolness of it making her melt back into the sheets. She has no strength to complain or protest when her fellow gods each take a limb to rub at, a sensation both horrifically terrible and unbearably good. She has never taken her armour off in her life.

"Easy, that's it," Apollo says coaxingly, lips downturned like he's trying not to cry. She whimpers as the cloth on her left leg suddenly burns as a spark escapes, instinctively pulling it away, but Aphrodite grabs it before she can and resumes rubbing, whispering apologies. She turns her head and weakly opens her mouth for the herb Apollo lifts to her lips, desperate for relief from the splitting headache.

She can't think. She can't think.

Athena has no idea how long it goes on, how long the other gods ignore their realms to tend to her. Slowly, they strike up a conversation, something light-hearted that she can't follow- different from their never-ending arguments and insults, as they talk about the past year and humourous stories and varied anecdotes.

Athena can't help but relax into it, the soft bed at her back and gentle hands massaging her sore muscles and warmth all around her. Feels something trembling within her since she first became aware of herself settling down with a sigh.

Until she suddenly smells ozone.

Hera and Apollo both notice her tensing up immediately, and look to where she can hear slow footsteps approaching. Apollo growls and shoots out a hand, bringing up the shields of his realm.

The conversation dies down as they all look to the side, at the distinct shadow at the other side of the curtain.

Rage, Athena realises, thoughts slow and muddied. They're angry with him.

"I will handle this," Hera says coldly, with the steel undertone that Athena strives for. She moves her cloth aside and leans down to kiss Athena on the forehead, like a mother would. "You rest, my daughter."

Athena's breath hitches, eyes burning. Nobody has ever cared for her, apart from Zeu-

Nobody has ever cared for her.

... Nobody has-

Hera turns sharply at the noise that suddenly escapes Athena, half hysterical laugh and half distraught wail.

"Did I win?" Athena asks desperately, pushing herself upright, ignoring the protests of the others as she pulls her limbs from their grasp. Hera stares at her and Athena grabs the side of the bed as she tries to lever herself up like a wild animal, demanding in a broken voice, "Did I win?"

A silence that stretches for a painful moment before- "Yes," Aephastus says, putting his hand on her shoulder to guide her back from the edge. "Yes, Athena, you won."

A strangled gasp of relief leaves her, making her light-headed as she leans back against the pillows. She shivers, then sobs- humiliation running through her before she hears an answering noise of sorrow from Aphrodite next to her, pressure all around as her five younger siblings embrace her carefully, gently, like she would break at any moment.

She's not the one who's been raped by a Titan's daughter for seven years.

The thought has her breath hitching, wiping her tears away with a hand that refuses to co-operate the first few tries. "I need to-"

"No," Artemis snaps, glaring at her. "I know you think of nothing but your work, but Athena, you cannot do it this time." Outside, Hera's and Zeus' voices rise as they begin to shout and scream. "You must rest."

"N-no, that's not- aah," She groans as another aftershock rips through her, leaving her panting and soaked in sweat when it's done. "I need to- I need-"

"Hermes has gone to his grandson," Aephastus says soothingly. "Peace, Athena. Your hero is free."

For a moment, it doesn't comprehend and she stares at him blankly. "Free," She repeats, words still infuriatingly faint and lilting. "He's free? I- I need my helmet, where is-"

"No, Athena!"

"Sister, please, you cannot resume your duties, you are in no state!"

"I need my helmet, please, please- just give me my helmet!"

Her cry echoes off the walls and she hears herself when it bounces back to her, broken and pleading and so unlike her she feels nauseous. Her siblings have gone silent and still at her begging, staring at her with shock and horror and fear and sorrow alike. Even Zeus and Hera have stopped talking.

Athena shakes, wishing she could rip this awful vulnerability out of her veins, wishes she could find a stone footing to stand on once more, wishes she wasn't in this horrible chiton.

"Please," She whispers.

Quietly, Aephastus gets to his feet and walks in the direction of the nearby drawers, where she can now see her belongings stacked up haphazardly, blood-stained.

"Sister, you must calm down," Aphrodite pleads. She takes her hands and Athena dazedly looks down at her, with her wide, scared eyes. Seizure, her mind registers finally from Apollo's earlier talk. Ah. She seems to have frightened them all. "You cannot afford a relapse."

Athena squeezes her fingers in acknowledgement, but reaches for the helmet when it's held out, dented and worn.

She touches the metal and feels the full force of seven years of silenced prayers hit her at once.

She's crying before she knows she's doing it, clutching the helmet to her chest as the warmth of the worship wraps around her like a shawl, and holds it tight against her as Ares tries to pry it away.

"No, no!" Apollo intervenes, shifting forward. He touches a hand to the helmet and suddenly the hymn bursts forth around them, loud even though the prayer itself is quiet and broken. Athena inhales at the feeling of it, soothing over the cracks in her own mind with their never-ending continuity, desolate, unbroken faith even when she never came to help-

He's still singing.

She shifts her hands on the helmet to make sure but- yes. Odysseus is calling her, still, at this very moment.

Her head snaps up, but even the dizziness the motion causes doesn't take away from how much clearer the room looks. "Where is he?"

"Sister-"

"If you do not answer me, I will take to the skies myself," She says firmly. "Where is he?"

Her siblings exchange looks.

"Three days out from Ithaka," Artemis replies with a sigh. "On a raft. But listen, wait but an hour, at least absorb these prayers-"

Athena stumbles off the bed and pulls on the helmet, closing her eyes.

"Wait, the bandages-!"

"Athena, you'll hurt yourself, please!"

"Daughter, be careful!"

Athena opens her eyes and looks out at the waves, rough and choppy, but not enough to sink the raft. She looks down and looks at the way the faded clothes don't fit him, the way he has no water left to drink but he still continues to sing.

"Odysseus," She says, and he freezes.

A wave rises and falls. They stay silent, unmoving.

"Won't you look?" The words break out of her, cracked and desperate.

He inhales and exhales, tears in the sound of it. "I don't want to look if you're... if you're not really here."

She swallows against the lump in her throat, takes a step forward. "Well, I-" Her voice cracks, but the fragile grin on her face is real as it spreads, the frailest thread of laughter entering her voice. "I would hope. That if you were hallucinating of me, that the spectre would at least have wisdom enough to tell you that you were."

Odysseus sobs and her heart cracks, feels his heart cracking in turn; yet it is akin to a misaligned bone that never healed right and has to be reset- she can hear the laughter before it comes, with relief coming from the brink of madness, with joy they'd both forgotten and missed. "It is you."

"I could not reach you on Ogygia," She blurts out, desperate to make him understand. "Could not hear your call. I would have come the second time you prayed, if I had."

"It is you," He whispers, swaying. A wave rises suddenly and they both burst into movement, grabbing ropes and pulling the mast, balancing together to keep it steady.

The wave passes. They are almost touching now.

"Won't you look?" Athena asks again, raw and grieving. "Odysseus. My companion, my friend. Please."

He turns at that, a stunned expression on his face- before it turns into wide-eyed horror as he looks at her. She laughs breathlessly, slightly dizzy, but- her friend. How lovely it is to see him again.

"Athena!" He rushes forward with unexpected vitality, the parts of him that she knew suddenly rising to light in his eyes, in his movements, becoming unhidden from the defeated, beaten figure he'd been moments before. "What in Gaia's name-"

"I'm sorry," She interrupts as she slumps forward into the hands on her arms, off-balance. "I should have tried better to understand, all those years ago. I understand now and I- Odysseus, I am-"

"Athena, shut up," Odysseus snaps, clearly panicking. She laughs again, because isn't it such a novelty, to have a person who will have the audacity to tell her to? "Of course it's forgiven, I'm sorry too, I should have fucking listened back then- but listen, what in Hades happened to you? Why do you look like this- why do you have bandages- Hermes wouldn't answer when I asked if something happened to you, fuck-"

"Peace," Athena rasps, even as her vision blinks in and out, forcing her to kneel. They both grimace as another wave crashes into the raft, but they don't upturn. Odysseus kneels down with her, staring at her with such worry and concern she can feel nothing but fondness. "The disagreements of gods are often violent."

"Gods-" His eyes flicker to the side of her face, and he frowns, reaching out to push back the helmet. She bends her face down to let him, feeling an odd burning on the left side that she has a vague bad feeling about- proved right when Odysseus' expression falls into blank horror. "You got into a fight with-"

"Yes."

"But he's your-"

"I know. He did not take kindly to my petition to release you," She smiles dryly, without mirth.

"To release me?" Odysseus wheezes, face cracking into anguish and disbelief alike. "Athena, what- I- I'm not worth-"

"It was worth it," She snaps. "Consider it my penance for abandoning my own. I certainly don't regret it."

"I never felt abandoned," Odysseus whispers, taking her hands as she shifts, supporting her body with his own as they lean against the mast. She looks at him, and remembers why Penelope is still weaving, why he's still out on the waters, why Ithaka is waiting out the suitors till Telemachus takes the throne. "I always knew you would come back. I just figured it would take ten years more, perhaps."

Athena is silent for a bit, absorbing that. And then, because she can't hold it back any longer- "I am sorry about your men." His breath hitches under her and she turns to take him in her arms, knowing what's coming. "I am sorry about your friends."

He sobs, ugly and loud, and she holds him tighter. "I am sorry that Titan's whelp had you for so long, and what she did to you. I am sorry the Fates were so unkind."

"Athena," He keens, finally falling to pieces. The sobs are mere loud gasps for air at first, before it dissolves into wailing, screaming, grieving for all the men they'd kept alive through a war, only to lose them to this cruel tragedy instead. Even she hadn't known- hadn't anticipated how wrong things would go after she left. Hadn't even thought that he hadn't reached home.

"It's all my fucking fault," He shouts, shaking. "If only I had- if only-"

"It is not. No one could have known," She whispers. "The Fates are unknown to us all."

He sobs louder and she closes her eyes.

But finally, their tears dry up. She holds him still, as the night fades and the sun rises again, trying to take his hurt into herself so he can be happy again.

"I am sorry," She whispers, seaspray around them. "That my enemies became your own. That I pushed you so hard. That I chose you, and brought pain to your life so."

"Hey now," Odysseus says, pulling back to look at her, a broken smile on his face. "Hold your blasphemous tongue, before you insult the wisdom of Pallas Athena." She laughs, even as tears spill over. "Even if I had the chance to choose again right at this moment, my goddess, I would still choose you."

"That means more than you know," Athena murmurs, overcome. She gathers all her strength and reaches out to run a hand over his head, soothing his mind and driving away the last tendrils of madness that were still holding onto him. He sighs and relaxes under her, some visible weight lifting from his shoulders. "Still. I will learn from my mistakes. If you would give your old friend a chance-"

"Stop right there. Of course I-" Odysseus scoffs, reaching out to hold her left cheek for emphasis. "Athena, your left eye is half gone."

"Ah. Well, that explains the depth perception," She mutters, then bursts into giggles at the incredulous look on his face.

"Are you drugged?" Odysseus demands, but he's already trying not to laugh himself. They both move on fast. "What am I saying, of course you are- have you been drugged this whole time? Who on Earth drugged you?"

"That would be me," Apollo says, crossing his arms.

Odysseus snarls, grabbing his sword and swinging wildly in an arc, half-animal in his panic, pushing Athena behind him.

"FUCKING- whoa, hey, calm down, it's her brother, it's Apollo!" Apollo half-shrieks inelegantly, jumping back. "Honestly! Athena, call off your hero, please."

"Apollo?" Odysseus tilts his head, lowering his sword and narrowing his eyes.

Apollo stares at him. "Wow, you two- really do act the exact same, huh. Yes, Apollo, god of please let me change your fucking bandages, do you mind?"

Odysseus bows and murmurs apologies, clearly wary of getting into more trouble, but to her mild surprise walks behind Athena instead of to the other side of the raft.

"I don't need assistance," She mutters to him, even as she grimaces at the length of the chiton as she tries to pull herself upright.

"You're still dizzy," Odysseus points out, settling in behind her to hold her steady. He wipes at the tears still on his face and smiles at her. She manages a half-smile back. "Do you need to go back to Olympus?"

"Yes," Artemis crosses her hands and Odysseus' fingers tighten painfully on her shoulders.

"I'm not quite certain there's space for so many on this raft," Athena mutters.

"It's a magical raft, it'll survive- but never mind that, could you not have at least sent a message that you were okay?"

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before running off without a word!"

"Really, daughter, you should know better!"

Odysseus grip is bruising now, and his sword is in front of Athena protectively; she can already tell what moves he's planning to use if they choose to attack. "Who..?" He asks lowly.

"Pantheon. At ease," She replies back shortly, before looking up at the others. "I thank you, my fellow go- my family, for your worry and concern. But we are only two days out from Ithaka and I would like to see this journey completed."

"You are not going to see yourself completed, if you don't rest," Apollo says, roughly at the exact same time that Athena undermines her own argument by throwing up on the raft.

"Athena, go," Odysseus says urgently when it's over, handing her helmet back to her and adjusting her cape as Hera kneels down beside her to hand her another glass of nectar, looking at him oddly. Odysseus grimaces and changes his tone. "I will be fine, patroness. I'll call for you when I reach the shores."

Movement catches her eye and she sees Ares remove his own helmet, giving her a reproving look. She remembers the speech he was talking about now- the one she'd loudly ranted at him when she was drunk a year ago, thinks about how much more at ease he is now.

"Alright," She acquiesces and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. "Two days."

Mania fills Odysseus' eyes as he smiles back, finally home from a war twenty years ago. "Two days."

Athena grins, even as she feels Hera wrap an arm around her to take her away. "Penelope is waiting."

Odysseus' eyes widen, then fill with tears, like he'd never quite truly let himself believe it; but his smile is wide and true. "Penelope is waiting. Thank you, Pallas Athena."

"You don't thank friends," She murmurs, exhaustion settling in. Odysseus laughs and the last thing she feels is a warm hand on her cheek and their foreheads pressed together, before the world goes black and she knows no more.

[rottingraisins]

clef and adams funny moments

[skydaemon]

i firmly believe that palamedes sextus is drop-dead, jaw-on-the-floor, sexiest man alive and the only reason this isn't canon is because he keeps being described solely from the pov of lesbians

[grimesgirll]

“not happening.”

“what if i told you that you’d be helping to save the world?”

“by fucking him?”

you scoff, turning your attention back to the braid you’d begun down your back. “i’m not helping you with your passion project, okafor. i have actual shit to do.”

okafor grins at you. “bullshit.”

“no, i still have weekly duties and assignments. i can’t just drop all of that trying to seduce your ticking time bomb.”

“i see the way he looks at you,” he states with a breath of your name. “if he’s gonna be open to anyone, it’s you.”

“he doesn’t need to be open to anyone.” you counter.

“i don’t think you know what he needs yet.”

“and you do?”

“he needs you.”

“no.” you reply flatly, fists clenched. “you need him to enact your little plan that i have nothing to do with.”

the lieutenant colonel gives you a haughty smile. “well then, at the very least he needs stress relief and you owe me a favor.”

you glare at him. “that was a one time thing.”

“you got what you wanted didn’t you?”

“being perpetually indebted to you with favors isn’t what i signed up for,” you complain as you plait your hair.

“you get to sit around and make your little maps and fuck around all day.” your superior reminds you.

you do your best not to scowl too much, unlike the man who your former benefactor wanted you to de-stress fuck. he constantly had a sour look on his face. he was the consignee who cut off his fucking hand trying to escape. how would you convince someone like that to just lay back and let you fuck them until they didn’t miss whatever life they had before again?

“this is kind of a far ask, okafor.” you note and tie off the end of your braid. you finally turn around from the mirror in front of you to face the dark green fatigue clad man behind you. “it’s never gone as far as touching someone like that and actually fucking them. i don’t think i’m up for that.”

okafor crosses his arms. “are you sure about that? last time i checked, you eye fuck him almost as much as he eye fucks you.”

“you’re an asshole.” you spit, venom dripping from your words. “i’m not letting you coerce me into this.” your eyes meet his brown irises. “let this be the last straw for you, lock me up, dishonorably discharge me, whatever, but i’m not just gonna hop on your lackey’s dick because you say so.”

he takes a deep breath and clasps his hands together, smirking for whatever reason. “i think you’ll want to.” he suddenly stands and you’re paranoid for a split second that he’s about to summon backup or attempt to disarm you right here and now. “because i’m not serving up any threats, just desserts. you’ve been good to me and i’ve been good to you. i want you to continue to reward you. maybe with what you’ve wanted all along.”

your eyebrow lifts. “and what would that be?”

okafor doesn’t say anything when you begin breaking the dress code with your workout gear. you make sure to plan time around your community mapping projects to run past the officers' meeting hall in the tighest pair of shorts you owned.

you never forgot to smile and wave to okafor and rick as you pass by. it takes a few days but rick returns your wave.

content adorns your face when you catch him surveying your form from afar, getting closer and closer to that sweet reward okafor had promised you.

soon enough rick is running into you everywhere. you're crossing paths in helicopter hangers, on benches outside of the barracks, during your runs around the reservoir, at the gym, in the administrative office in your most yielding sweater, in the hallway, and at his front door on okafor’s orders.

“okafor wanted me to make sure this got to you.”

“thank you,” rick grunts gruffly, accepting the folder with his latest field assignment from your grasp.

“anytime, rick,” you crow.

before he can bid you good night, you ask if he’d been briefed by okafor yet. he shakes his head.

you smile sweetly. “well, he really wanted you to sit down and talk about the park with someone who’s been there before, knows the layout.”

the cowboy type raises an eyebrow. “you’ve been to olympia national park before.”

“mhmm,” you confirm. “a long time ago but i know more about it than okafor.” you let out a breath, eyes boring into his icy blue gaze. “got a minute?”

the dark wainscoting of officer’s quarters enters your field of vision as rick leads you through the skinny hallway, pointing out a bathroom before bringing you into what you assume is the downstairs living room.

“you can help yourself to the kitchen,” he offers graciously, gesturing towards the kitchen of the open floor plan living space.

“thanks!” you chirp and weave towards the kitchen, finding two short glasses and flinging a cabinet open.

“oh, you have whiskey!”

“it was a gift from okafor.”

you can barely keep a guffaw from tumbling out of your mouth. “that’s very on brand for him,” you comment, turning the handcrafted decanter over in your hands. “well, lucky for you, okafor has fantastic taste.”

rick observes from the leather sofa as you pour two short glasses of whiskey - not even asking if you could. the orange light of the kitchen does nothing to hide how great you look for nine o’clock at night. your gauzy long hair glints, looking sleek beneath the lights as it falls inches above the curve of your ass.

the same bottom that had seemingly been following rick around base. it was like everywhere he turned: you were there. whatever inspired this house call felt suspiciously related.

kneeling on the floor next to the coffee table, you place the tray with your drinks down and empty the folder of its documents in order to splay them across the table. you reach up to rick to pass him one of the twin glasses.

reluctantly, he accepts. however, he doesn’t take a sip from his glass until after you do.

he doesn’t miss the way your throat tenses at the burn of the liquor when it makes its way down. you throw another swig back like a young woman who’s grown accustomed to drinking with her fellow soldiers, but in the quarters of one of her superiors?

“so, here’s where you’ll be landing.” your glass is already on the coffee table and you’re pointing out green meandering lines. “whitehorse mountain is right here. just be careful of atmospheric rivers in the area. did okafor tell you about what happened to the apache team?”

the dark haired man shook his head, worry lines becoming more pronounced.

you shake your head. “forget i said anything.” you take another quick drink from your glass and rick looks alarmed - you’re not like your oxen brothers in arm who could drink themselves silly. he doesn’t have time to dwell on it though because you’re skipping right to the next print out to detail his planned trek along the sauk river.

“it’s a pretty ridge. you should stop and take a picture.” you suggest, thumbing through laminated landmark shots of valleys and vistas, making a verbal note of one which is a convenient stop on his trip.

he bites his pink lip. “i don’t think getting a photo of the view is gonna be on my mind, sweetheart.”

“why not?” you question with a glimmer in your eye. “someone like you should take time to relax when you can.”

he chides your name. “what’re you doin’?”

“your job is important, and we all have jobs to do, right?”

there’s a far awayness in his eyes that you can’t place when you lean in closer. feet tucked under your knees, you’re trailing your hand up rick’s thigh towards the tent in his pants.

“you wanna fuck my mouth?”

“why’re you doin’ this?”

when he iterates your name, you consider backing down but then you remember okafor’s promise and how truly repressed this man seemed.

“it’s been a while hasn’t it.”

rick squirms. he doesn’t mean to but it’s a question not many people have the balls to ask him and he didn’t expect it from you of all people. he tries to block whatever memories are bubbling in response and busies himself with taking in the view of your parted lips.

“you don’t have to say anything, just relax,” you coo, shoving him back slightly.

looking down at you, rick doesn’t know what he has to gain from saying no at this point. rick huffs as you approach his erection but he doesn’t object.

his waistband falls with your fingers and you’re faced with the massive length you’d been worrying about. ever since you first saw rick’s bulge, you were brainstorming how you’d even fit him inside your taut walls, much less inside of your mouth.

starting slow, you begin at the base and kitten lick up to the top. rick’s groans give him away immediately. how can he hide how repressed he is with a cock as hard as rocks?

at the top of him, you’re laving his cockhead in your mouth. “i’ve never been with anyone this big,” you admit for the potential ego boost - even though it’s one hundred percent true. rick has a fucking horse cock if you’ve ever seen one.

your hand is working overtime with everything you can’t fit into your mouth at first. rick exhales hoarsely at the wet heat of your mouth devouring him. he hasn’t had a mouth on him in so long. your tight, warm lips wrap around his dick and you swallow around him.

his self control is rusty so he curses when he bucks into your face, stalling his hips only for you to pick up your pace. he wants to pull you off when he feels like he’s about to cum down your tight airway which is crammed full of his cock.

at the first feeling of that telltale twitch against your tongue, you prepare to do your part to keep rick’s nice leather couch clean and swallow everything he’s been holding back.

popping off of him, you look back up at him and grant a toothy smile. his eyes are lurid and clouded with what you only assume is lust. you’re not prepared for his rough grip to drag you onto the surface and into his lap.

the green cargo mini skirt you were wearing falls down your legs and lands somewhere on the wood paneled floor. the moment after you wipe your mouth with a tight fitting sleeve, rick captures your mouth. slightly taken aback, you moan into the man, squirming borderline uncontrollably on top of him as he pulls your top over your head.

his sturdy fingertips ghost across up your waist to your breast. with one robust squeeze as a warning, he assaults your heaving chest with his flesh hand and bruises your collarbone with something between a kiss and a mini-puncture wound. the proesthetic invades your panties and teases your labia, eliciting a needy hum from you.

his horse cock makes itself known again against the front of your pale pink panties.

fuck, how will he fit?

“god, you’re already soakin’ me.”

you get past the feel of his embrace for a moment to glance down only to be greeted with the sight of your swampy lap. how did i do that? you ponder.

“i wanna feel you on my cock, sweetheart. is that something you can do to help me relax?”

you grin. “i’m glad you asked.” you feel a renewed tingle downstairs. “why don’t you see how i take your fingers first?”

a smirk forms on his face. “probably should.” and then he’s reaching between the two of you to prod a finger at your dripping mound.

a deft finger drives into you. you’re expecting another one but as you lazily rest your head on his clothed shoulder, you just whine. the finger inside of you curls and unfurls, stretching you out without the addition of another digit. just the way his fingers drags along your walls has you twisting on top of him.

“you’re really wet for a girl who came over to talk about maps.”

you don’t comment, just cant your hips and beg for another finger. he obliges.

the calculated sensation has you forgetting what he’s talking about, forgetting about your plan. that rhythm he’s adopted speeds up once you make eye contact with rick.

“one more?” he questions.

you nod furiously. “another!”

rick doesn’t delay and the floor drops out from under once you feel a tongue on your quiveting lower lips.

“rick!” you gasp as his fingers and tongue work in unison to squeeze every naughty little noise out of you.

the soldier doesn’t speak; he just laps up your pussy like it was an order.

you come all over his face.

“sorr-,” you’re shut up by a wet finger in your mouth.

“that’s it.”

the no longer meek man trains his eyes on you as you suck his finger clean. through half lidded eyes, you watch his pupils dilate into fully lust blown orbs. devoid of the bright blue you’d seen before, rick’s stare only shifts when he’s shifting you on top of him.

“is it going to fit?” you don’t even realize that your thoughts are materializing out loud.

the officer snorts. “never had a problem before.”

the initial stretch is challenging. your breath is caught in your throat and you’re almost asking the man beneath you to slow down but he’s already inching in at an excruciatingly stable rate.

fuck, you’re reconsidering this. you curse your lieutenant colonel for acting like this whole song and dance was easy. figures. okafor isn’t the one getting stretched out on an eight inch cock.

at the sound of your whines, rick places a kiss on the top of your forehead. “doin’ so good for me,” rick praises. “so tight.”

i know, i feel you tearing me open you want to rasp but you just try to settle into the feeling. you adjust your position, tilting enough for rick to take a renewed interest in your ass. a firm hand plants itself on your flesh in an attempt to leverage you closer.

“almost there,” he grunts and continues pushing through your clinging canal, through the thick rings of muscle that grip his cock so tightly.

momentarily, you slump against the soldier. yeah, you’d been running around the base in hopes of attracting rick’s attention but your exercise routine was no match for the man with a brick between his legs.

once he’s sheathed inside of you, rick reaches down to toy with your clit. you mutter a soft curse. the sensation picks up and you’re faced with not just feeling full but fully stimulated as well. each drag against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you whimpering into rick.

drives into you become harsher. the impact feels less like a truck and more like a commanding officer. an arm is wrapped around you to keep your position steady on top of okafor’s new favorite soldier. the same one who seems to be hitting the right spot every time he moves you up and down his length.

your hands reach for his graying chestnut hair. they find purchase while rick rocks into you. the urge to complain that his shirt is on exits once a familiar pressure mounts inside of you.

“fuck, you’re squeezin’ me.”

“mhmm,” you expire into his neck, nuzzling into him when he presses fingernails into your sides and lifts and lowers you like his own personal stress relief toy.

you can’t be bothered to care. you’re getting what you want out of this: a reward and a release.

pleasure is just radiating throughout your core again. whatever pain had you speechless earlier has evolved into an ecstasy that has you babbling. rick just keeps a hand on the small of your back and carries on pouring himself into you - into your tight little canal, back and forth, in and out.

“rick,” you’re mewling.

the man can’t be bothered to plant a hand pleasurably on your pussy or respond to your cries, so you complain a little louder.

“want you to cum in me.” you stutter into the pillowcase.

“don’t think you want that,” rick demurely admits.

“no,” you argue between pants. “i’m on the shot they have here. i want you to fill me up.”

rick utters a curse into your neck, pouring himself into you so swiftly you’re surprised. just like you asked, he pumps his hips leisurely into your soaked cunt. you wince at the sound of a squelch. hopefully rick doesn’t care too much about having to clean his sofa.

neither of you are expecting the noise you make when rick untangles himself from you. you’re too tired to have shame and simply sink back into the ductile pillows. your head swivels over slowly to find rick watching your chest fall up and down unevenly.

laying beside the man, you can’t help but feel accomplished. for once, the soldier is sporting a blissed out look on his face instead of a scowl or thousand yard stare. but as he slings an arm around you and tugs you closer to his sweltering, sweaty body, you can’t help but feel guilty - manipulative even.

mission accomplished, but at what cost?

pt. 2

[jadecantcreate]

the krew and body counts

[taliabhattwrites]

The Marketplace of Identity

Today I'm thinking about how anglocentric queer communities do not view identities and positionalities as descriptive terms outlining their material circumstances and relationship to society, but rather as items on a menu that are meant to be selected from freely, to build one's Personal Brand and aesthetics.

In such an environment, any assertion of the materiality of a construct, the tangible reality it is meant to connote and communicate, registers as a violence, as "gatekeeping", because the identity was never supposed to be about conveying one's particular state of abjection. It is a toy in a basket, and pleas to consider the meaning of phrases are parsed as slapping one's hand away from something shiny.

Welcome to the Desert of the Real, in rainbow.

[natalievoncatte]

Kara knew something was wrong from Lena’s heartbeat. That alone, the barely detectable change in rhythm and tempo, was enough, but her breathing was erratic and as Kara drew nearer, drifting through the afternoon air, she could hear the soft sobs.

A bad feeling had come over Kara. Things had been quiet between the two of them ever since the wedding; there had been a strange tension between them on that happy day and Kara couldn’t say why

(she knew what she wanted it to be but didn’t dare hope)

and with Alex and Kelly away on their honeymoon, Kara had mostly been on her own. Nia was spending most of her free time with Brainy and Kara sensed a proposal coming, and she was busy preparing for her public interview with Cat Grant. She was going to rip the bandages off and reveal her identity. There was a great deal of work involved, and Kara had spent a lot of time fretting over the details, and in the back of her head she was worried about the ramifications of years spent reporting on Supergirl and using “her” as a source. It was a massive ethical dilemma, and thought it always made sense at the time…

Right now all that mattered was the heartbeat. Kara had been giving Lena the space she sensed she needed, but Jess had called Kara from the Foundation and told her that Lena hadn’t come to work in three days, and no one had heard from her. It was uncharacteristic of someone who ran her life with almost military precision. Kara had even asked Alex to text Lena, but they’d gotten the same single word replies.

Kara pulled in a big breath, feeling her stomach churn as she lighted on the balcony and slid open the door, knowing it would be unlocked. She wished Lena would stop doing that, but also felt a little tilt in her chest from knowing Lena hadn’t locked her out.

She was on the sofa, curled up on her side and asleep. She’d probably had the same pajamas on for two days and there were empty bottles of wine in a neat row on the table in front of her. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her cheeks a little raw. Kara felt an instant pang and reached for her, before stopping to deactivate her suit.

Kneeling next to the sofa, Kara touched her fingers to Lena’s shoulders. Lena woke instantly with a start, head jolting up as she sucked in a reedy breath and her heart raced explosively, sending a shock of terror up Kara’s spine.

“Oh fuck,” Lena blurted, kicking out her legs as she bolted upright. “Oh God, Kara what…”

“Hey,” Kara said softly. “I was… I’m sorry. Are you okay? I came in through the balcony. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lena’s chest heaved as she gasped for breath, staring at Kara with watery eyes. “Are you real?”

“What? Yes, of course I’m real.”

“I must have been dreaming. It was a dream. Just a dream. I was dreaming,” Lena muttered.

Kara rose from her knees and sat down on the couch.

“Come here.”

Lena almost crashed into her, wrapping her arms tightly around Kara and squeezing hard. She smoothed her fingers over the soft dark waves of Lena’s hair and pulled her in as she began to sob into Kara’s shoulder.

“I dreamed he killed you,” Lena choked out. “He came back again and he killed you and I couldn’t stop it. It felt so real.”

“I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Lena continued to sob, her entire body shaking with the force of it. Kara wrapped her in a fierce hug, trembling as she did.

“Every time I close my eyes he’s there, and when I’m awake all I can think about is that I killed my brother.”

“That didn’t happen in this timeline.”

Lena choked out an angry, frustrated sob. “It happened for me. I aimed a gun at my own brother’s chest and I pulled the trigger. And he came back! He came back and he almost killed you two or three fucking times, I can’t count.”

“He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

“You can’t just say that!” Lena screamed into Kara’s throat.

Stunned, Kara softened her grip on Lena, only for Lena to pull her in harder, like she was trying to climb inside her.

“Why can’t I stop mourning him? He ruined my life. He was the person I trusted most and he turned out to be a monster. He used me my whole life and my emotions were just a game to him. He tried to to kill the woman I… tortured you, took you away for months and I thought I’d never see you again. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was and how much…”

Lena cut herself off with a sob.

“I know it’s not the same,” Kara murmured, “but when I was a little girl I worshipped my father. I wanted to grow up like him and do what he did. I was going to be a scientist too.”

“You’d have been a good one.”

Kara shook her head. “My father was responsible for the Medusa virus. A bioweapon designed to eradicate non-Kryptonian life. A weapon of genocide.”

Lena shuddered.

Kara swallowed, hard.

“My world wasn’t a paradise. It felt that way because it was simple for me. There wasn’t all the pain of learning alien ways and an alien language and controlling superpowers and everything else. My father taught and protected me and my mom maintained order. But it was wasn’t a paradise. My people were… Krypton was… I think in a lot of worlds out there, we were the bad guys. Okay, the Daxamites were slavers, but on Krypton people were born into the labor guild and did menial jobs their whole lives, while people like me were born into privilege. Is that much better?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t judge you for mourning Lex, Lena. He was your protector and your friend, and it was real to you. If there’s anything I hate him for, it’s hurting you.” Kara swallowed. “The one thing I can’t abide is anyone hurting you. I’ll break all my rules to keep you safe.”

Lena’s breathing eased and Kara could feel her relax.

“I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I figured you needed space. I wasn’t sure why but I trusted you to tell me if you need to.”

There was a long, heavy pause, and then Lena said.

“Kara, I can’t do this. I can’t share you.”

“Share me?”

“When you reveal your identity,” Lena pulled back, “you’re going to be the most famous person in the word. Everyone is going to be all over you. The press, politicians, everybody, and everyone who has a grudge against you or your cousin is going to know exactly where to find you, all the time.”

“I’ll keep you safe, no one will…”

“I didn’t say anything about me. You, Kara. What about you?”

“I’m Supergirl. I’ll be fine.”

“And what about me?” said Lena.

“I told you…”

“No. What about me when I have to watch you getting beaten to a pulp by another alien? What about me when you’re in a coma on the sun bed? What about me when I see on the news that a bomb went off in your apartment and I have to wonder if it was laced with Kryptonite shrapnel? I’m not worried about people coming after me. I’m a billionaire with magic powers. I could put on a goofy costume and join the club if I wanted. I’ve already lost you so many times and I can’t do it again.”

Stunned, Kara sat with her eyes wide, not sure when exactly she’d lifted Lena into her lap.

“It’s so selfish of me,” Lena went on. “You don’t belong to me. I don’t get to make demands of you. But don’t want you to out yourself. I don’t want to lose you again. As soon as you do this you’re going to be hounded by the whole world and they’ll claw you away from me again.”

Kara’s own heart raced now, hammering in her chest. Lena sounded so desperate and so sure, clinging to a Kara like she might disappear.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s your choice and I have to respect it. It’s okay,” she was clearly telling herself.

“No,” Kara choked out, “no it’s not. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”

“Kara,” said Lena.

“No. I have been. I can’t believe I said what I said to you at the wedding, about not being my authentic self. To you, of all people.”

Lena swallowed hard. Kara drew back and looked at her, really looked at her, drinking in the soft beauty of her eyes as she swept back a tear with a brush of her thumb. Lena’s eyes were huge, her lips trembling, and Kara felt an almost painful pang of sorrow and regret and a powerful stirring, long thrust down and buried and now clawing its way forth as Lena stared back, the deep sadness and loss in her own eyes tinged by a hint of forlorn hope.

“I can’t believe that I can see through walls and I’m so blind.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

“I’m calling it off. I’ll keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to do that just to please me.”

“I don’t need them. I need you. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

Lena’s heart raced so fast that Kara briefly thought she might have to fly her to the hospital. Instinctively, she slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders and stood, lifting Lena as if she weighed nothing.

Eyes wide, Lena bit her lip.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean when you say you’re mine? I need you to say it, Kara. I was too scared at the wedding. I can’t do this. I need you to.”

Oh.

Kara shifted her Lena’s weight in her arms, bring them closer together. She’d danced this dance before; she thought of the day she came back from the Phantom Zone, when she held Lena in her arms and felt the sun again and she almost did it, she almost just fucking did it…

And she did it.

She kissed Lena, already ready to sputter an apology and find a way out of this, but her words were lost when Lena’s soft lips met hers and Lena was ready to devour her, happily rocketing past chaste first kiss as she grabbed Kara with both hands and pulled her in.

Kara’s stomach flipped. She didn’t know what to do. She’d been kissed, she thought she’d been intimate, but she could see now that those things had been mere stimulation and nothing more. Something soared inside her as she had soared in the sky the very first time she flew. Joy unbridled swelled in her chest and she could feel Lena laughing exultantly into her mouth and even as tears mingled on her cheeks.

She wanted this. She wanted this. It was right here all along.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “I…”

“Should I put you down?”

“On the bed.”

[manichewitz]

i dont think yall understand how floored i was when i found out that the interview with the vampire books are actually incredibly erotically gay for real and not just light queercoding or fan's gay ships?? bc this changes everything. i had always assumed anne rice hated fanfic authors for making her male characters fuck, but no, she just wanted to be the only author making her male characters fuck

[flem17ng]

“that’s not my leighton!! 😡🤬”

she’s wearing Vivienne Westwood…

mf that’s Leighton, she just found lesbian tik tok and refreshed her pinterest.

[sea-lanterns]

I get the feeling that the milfs and gilfs aren’t going to be pegging us anytime soon once they find out we’ve been calling them hags. 😅😅😅

-🥛

Maybe they’ll peg us out of anger?

Angry sex with an angry old woman because we keep calling her an old hag 😭😭 she pushes us down against the pillow, yanks our hips against her own, and proceeds to give us the most brutal bulldozing of our life with her fat strap/dick to prove us wrong.

She goes so fast in fact, that it only lasts about five minutes before her old lady bones give out and she collapses down on top of you. Sorry older gf, this just further solidifies being a hag in my eyes. 🥺

[taylortruther]

i feel like we've gotten shades of this in other albums but i think ttpd is a major evolution in how taylor talks about the power dynamics of her sexual relationships. i can't think of many past lines that so openly acknowledge that some men see her as a sexual trophy.

[eddiezpaghetti]

It has come to my attention that SOME OF YOU who read my last Byler post remain UNCONVINCED. So I'm gonna tack onto it this:

I'm older than fucking God and air, and I've been out and proud since 2007. Yes, I know what homophobia is, and yes, I know what queerbaiting is. I know about Supernatural and Teen Wolf and Sherlock and blahdyblahdyblah. No new ground is being covered here. I thought I made that clear in the original post, but, clearly, I did not.

I am aware of queerbaiting and homophobia, and I'm still wholeheartedly certain in Byler being canon anyway.

Okay, so there are three types of relationship I want to discuss when it comes to queerbaiting. They're all, like, "queer relationships that could have happened, but didn't".

First off, queer-coding. This isn't really a thing so much anymore, but it still crops up every once in a while. I'd argue it probably happens most with male-male relationships in family shows these days. First example that comes to mind is Mr. Smiley and Mr. Frowny from Steven Universe. You can't make a relationship canon because some shitty overhead bastard overhead said no, so you get as close as you can without compromising the show. Can't make someone gay? Well, now their comedy routine is a blatant allegory for a romantic relationship. Boom-shaka-laka. This is something I don't see being a problem with regards to Stranger Things, but I want it to be there as contrast, a demonstration of one of many things queerbaiting is not. However, one could argue that, thus far, Will Byers is, canonically, queer-coded. It's pretty fucking heavily implied in the show, and the creators have confirmed it, and you're gonna be able to see it if you're not FUCKING BLIND, but word of god is not technically canon which means that interviews don't technically make something canon, blahdyblahdyblahdyblah, technicalities, Robin has been explicitly stated in the text to be queer while Will has, thus far, not, outside of good ol' Show-Don't-Tell. Of course, anyone with two brain cells to rub together can tell that that's going to change by the end of Season 5, but, hey, for what it's worth, I'm throwing this out there.

Alrighty, Thingamajingama Number Two: "Oops, I accidentally made the greatest love story known to man." AKA, a genuine, honest-to-goodness mistake. Unfortunately, we do live in a heteronormative society. Sometimes people who don't think about being gay much write a friendship that's incredibly compelling and don't even consider the possibility that it could have been read as romantic. Something something Top Gun something. This is, again, not queerbaiting. This is Steddie, this is Ronance, this is Elmax, this is your favorite flavor of non-canon ship this week, this is not Byler. The creators know DAMN well what they're doing. They've talked about it. We know this. Nothing new here.

Which brings us to the topic of discussion here. Actual queerbaiting. This usually starts out as an "accidental greatest love story", and then reacts to fan response. And when I say "reacts", I mean like a goddamn chemical reaction. Like bleach and ammonia, bitch. It's noxious and it's gonna kick your fucking ass without mercy. This is when a creator is like, "Hey, let's get our queer audience invested, but we're not actually going to give them what they want because our straight audience isn't here for that/we personally think it's gross/we don't give enough of a shit to want to research a goddamn thing to write a real gay character," blah blah blah whatever excuse they want to come up with this time.

And when you think "queerbaiting", I want you to think "bullying". Because that's what it is. It's lucrative bullying, like beating us up and taking our lunch money, but it's bullying all the same. And it's a real goddamn thing, even if people misuse the word a lot, often when they mean one of the two above, sometimes when they mean "bury your gays", which is another homophobic thing entirely that I'm not going to get into here. Queerbaiting is the thing we're focused on, and it's real, and it's bullying. And here's the reason I want you to think of it as bullying:

They

Think

It's

Funny.

They are actively making fun of us.

That's why Dean had the "Cas, get out of my ass," line in Supernatural. It's why the "Do you like boys?" line happened in Teen Wolf. It's why "Lie with me, Watson," happened in the RDJ Sherlock Holmes movies. Because "It's just a joke, mate." "It was just a prank, bro." "You didn't really think it would happen, did you?" "You should see your face."

So here's probably the biggest reason I don't think it's specifically queerbaiting in this specific instance of Will Byers and Mike Wheeler.

Stranger Things has never, not once, made a gay joke. Ever.

Every single time queerness comes up, it's dead serious.

Lonnie calls Will a fag, and the show is not at all reluctant to show what a goddamn horrible person he is. And when Hopper latches onto that, it's not as "Hahah, is he gay, though?" It's because he's trying to determine a potential motive for Will's disappearance, and even if someone had interpreted it as a joke, Joyce immediately has a line that functions as snapping her fingers in front of the audience's face and yelling "FOCUS" when she says "He's MISSING." Basically outright saying "This isn't funny!"

Troy calls him a fairy, along with targeting Lucas and Dustin for their skin color and disability respectively, and Mike gets damn near murderous. Troy is portrayed as a goddamn monster and the show portrays it as justice when El makes him piss his pants and later breaks his arm.

Steve calls Jonathan "queer" as a slur and gets the shit beat out of him for it.

Billy's father is revealed to be homophobic and abusive in the same breath.

Mike says "It's not my fault you don't like girls!" and we're shown how devastated Will is and Mike immediately follows him to beg for forgiveness.

There is a joke in Robin's coming-out scene, but it's not at Robin's expense. It's at Steve's. Specifically for being heteronormative.

Jonathan has multiple scenes where he's trying so hard to tell Will that he's always going to love him as he is, whether he's gay or not, without pressuring him to come out before he's ready.

Even when there's a little bit of ribbing at Robin's expense, it's always because she's an awkward nerd who's nervous around pretty girls, just the same as Lucas and Dustin are teased when they both first develop crushes on Max, and even then, even then, it always comes as a package deal where they make fun of Steve's girl problems at the same time.

Stranger Things is an emphatically pro-gay show. It may not be the core point of the show the way it is in, say, Our Flag Means Death, but there is nothing less than respect for its queer characters. Its queer characters are always taken completely seriously. No one is making fun of us. They never have. That's why I have serious doubts that this is queerbaiting. It would come completely out of left field for the bullying to start in Stranger Things' final season.

So it's not at all likely to be queerbaiting because queerness is taken completely seriously. The creators have talked about Will's queerness, at least, so it's not an accident. And queer-coding would be silly to expect from this show when it's already on its final season. Like, what is Netflix gonna do? Cancel it? Not to mention all the explicit queerness that's in there already. And no one's gonna "What about the children?" a show that's had sex scenes in it since the first season.

There's no fakeout here. It's gonna happen. Breathe.

[urproblematicfav-arsonk]

I'm genuinely so baffled by people claiming that VoxVal have a Father-Daughter relationship with Velvette. Like, I understand she's short but no one's going around claiming that Lucifer is a Child™ like they do with Vel and Niftty. And also???

What kind of "daughter" starts taking selfies and filming when her "dads" are about to start fucking????? Its fine I guess if you're not into polyvees or voxvel but she's definitely not their or anyone elses kid. She's an adult women who sells date rape drugs, respect that ffs