#the $99 I paid when I first got it :/

[bolshevik-rpf]

dear lord i am not going to survive this martini

[ahbutimavillain]

Only bean could have the power to not only get me interested in a dnd style game but also to consider finding people to do dnd with irl

[cipheramnesia]

Everything about the USA will make you feel as if your whole ability to reason and think coherently has just flown away.

I'm thinking right now about a radio advertisement I overheard for Indeed - a theoretical jod search website. The advertisement, however, was directed at companies who were searching for employees. Presumably these companies pay Indeed to serve as a hub for their job postings and applicants. So Indeed wants people signed up, because more accounts shows more potential applicants and they can get more money from companies looking for employees. There's no money in actually connecting applicants to positions, so you sign up, make the account, discover you signed up for a portal that just sends you to other company's jobs pages with the same info and spams you with jobs you don't want, and you leave forever. Money in the bank.

Meanwhile on the hiring side, job postings make a business look good. If you always got job postings, you're growing. But keeping fresh postings in rotation is time consuming, especially when you're lean staffed on purpose with investors who demand you show an infinitely growing rate of improvement. So you pay Indeed a monthly fee to upload a bunch of jobs you aren't hiring for and use that to hook more investors to pay the first group.

And you end up with a company that gets paid to do nothing but generate fake data by other companies paying them to do nothing but post fake information, and the only part we (the ones looking for income to survive) play in this transaction is lending the process just enough legitimacy to make it legal. Money that doesn't exist cycles around between people doing nothing and as long as none of us can afford groceries or a home, the economy is considered "doing well," but the second one investor caves and demands to be paid, the economy collapses and suddenly 99% of the population in the USA can afford to eat again.

All you have to do is multiply that by a thousand companies doing it a thousand times a month and that's the USA baby, except also we supply billions of dollars of weapons killing people around the world.

[leapingbadger]

Tattoo

Read on AO3

***

“Does it hurt” Omega asked, hovering over her brother.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Hunter replied, eyes closed. The buzzing made his brain feel like it was vibrating but there was no pain to speak of. He’d had much worse in battle.

“Like you’d say if it did,” Crosshair said witheringly. “You didn’t even complain when you got that shrapnel in the neck, remember?” He was bent over Hunter’s chest, scraping at the skin with the tattoo gun and aggressively wiping away the blood and excess ink.

Omega gasped, “you got shrapnel in your neck?” she asked Hunter, alarmed.

“Omega doesn’t know that story?” Crosshair said, a toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly.

“We didn’t tell her all of them yet. We were kind of preoccupied,”

“But yeah,” he said, turning to Omega. “I had to leave it in until we could get back to base.” He said, moving his hair with his left hand so she could see the slit-like scar on the back of his neck. Omega shook her head at him, sat back down, cross legged on the floor, elbows on her knees, chin in her hand.

“I remember that. Made me feel sick,” Wrecker said. He was next to Omega, scratching Batcher behind the ear. Her collar jingled and her tongue dangled out of the side of her mouth.

Hunter chuckled. The sun was streaming through the window of the small common room.

“What about Skako Minor?” Crosshair asked.

“Are you kidding,” Wrecker said, “that was her bedtime story for a while. Tech and Echo loved telling her that one,” Omega nodded in agreement.

Hunter was stretched out on the couch, arms behind his head. It had been a while since he’d gotten a new tattoo.

He had paid a professional to get his face tattoo and the skeletal outline on the left side of his body, but the others had been done by his brothers. The skull with a 99 in aurebesh on his right bicep was done by Crosshair on a particularly stormy day on Kamino when the ocean looked like it might come through the window of their room.

Tech had inked the Mando’a for brother, ‘Vod’, while scrolling his datapad. Hunter had watched nervously as he waived the gun around wildly while info dumping to the rest of them.

Wrecker hated needles and had a hard enough time being in the room while the tattoo was being done but he had inked a small aurebesh number four just so Hunter could complete the set.

The most recent one he got, before now, was a small Omega symbol on his wrist. He’d gotten it in a dingy underground parlor during a particularly tricky mission while looking for intel on the Pikes. He told Wrecker it was the only way to get the information they needed but he also needed a reminder of what he was fighting for. It was by far his favorite, although he’d never told anyone else that.

The new one, the one Crosshair was painstakingly scratching into his skin on the right side of his chest, was a familiar skull with lightning bolt behind it. Tech had designed it in their cadet days. He drew it everywhere; it was repeated on the back wall of his bunk on Kamino.  He had scratched it into the side of his data pad and carefully painted it onto his customized helmet for their first mission.

Hunter was sure Tech would call him sentimental, or at least think it. But it was a way for him to keep his fallen brother close. It would be a reminder every time he got dressed in the morning.  A reminder of what this life on Pabu had cost.

“Did you tell her about windsurfing on the Keeradaks on Skako?” Crosshair asked Hunter, throwing an amused look at Omega.

Hunter laughed, “I’d forgotten about that,” he said.

“Tech didn’t, he was cursing the entire trip to retrieve you,”

“Really?” Hunter said, surprised.

Wrecker laughed, “yeah, said you’d dropped your only braincell during that trip.

They all laughed, that kind of laughter that filled a room. It was boisterous, childish laughter, the kind that only siblings could share. Except, there was one missing. The realization seemed to hit them all at once and the joy was sucked out of the air.

Crosshair finished up the last section of the lightning bolt. He pulled back, cocking his head to the side to take in his work. Hunter looked down. The lines weren’t as straight as they could have been. Crosshair was still getting used to his prosthetic hand, but his painting had come such a long way that Hunter thought his brother was ready to get back to his first love. He had loved tattooing so much he’d even help the Regs out on occasion when they were on Kamino. It had taken some convincing but after a few weeks of Hunter’s unwavering confidence in his abilities, it finally seemed to take hold.

As he checked his new ink out in the mirror, Hunter noticed a slight tremor in Crosshair’s prosthetic hand. He narrowed his eyes in concern but said nothing.

“Omega said you went to Kashyyyk,” he said quietly.

Hunter traded looks with Wrecker who was now bench pressing Gonky in the corner. Omega looked at Hunter in concern.

“Ah, yeah. We did. Found a young Wookie. A jedi, actually…we…ah…took him home.”

“I always liked Kashyyyk,” Crosshair said, looking at anywhere but directly at Hunter. “It was our first mission.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, sitting on the couch closer to his brother and resting his hand on his shoulder. “We’ll go back again, someday.” He added reassuringly. He had expected Crosshair to shrug off his hand like he often did. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, at least, he didn’t used to be. But they sat there for a few moments in silence.

“I missed a lot.” Crosshair said, his voice low and gravely.

Hunter, Wrecker and Omega traded glances again. The warmth and joy that had been on his face earlier had disappeared, replaced with a grimace. The ever-present toothpick in his mouth left an indent in his lip as he pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“But you’re here now,” Omega said reassuringly getting up and giving him a hug.

Crosshair raised his eyes and gave her a halfhearted smile.

“Are you ready for yours?” Hunter asked Crosshair, trying to change the subject.

“That depends, have you gotten any better since the last one?”

Hunter laughed, “probably not. But unless you want Wrecker to have a go, I’m your best bet.”

“I’ll do it,” Omega said hopefully.

“No,” Hunter and Crosshair replied in unison. Omega sighed and rolled her eyes.

Crosshair sighed dramatically and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, “fine.” He sat down on the floor, right forearm stretched out over the coffee table.

Hunter was taken aback. Crosshair wanted the tattoo near the stump where his right hand should be. He gave a questioning look to Wrecker who just shrugged.

“Are you sure that’s where you want it?” He asked in a would-be casual tone.

Crosshairs eyes narrowed, “Yes. I have to look at it every day anyway. Might as well put something there I wanna see.”

The answer satisfied Hunter. He shrugged and set about cleaning and setting up the new equipment. It had been a long time since he had done this.

They spent the afternoon huddled in the common room, regaling Omega with stories of old missions, laughing, teasing each other and sometimes sitting in silence except for the buzzing of the tattoo gun. The vibration in his hand tickled his senses and Hunter had to pause often to flex his fingers. Hunter was satisfied with how the skull and lightning bold looked, given his lack of experience, but Crosshair’s was definitely better.

The sun was starting to set outside. The amber glow of Pabu’s evening light display would spring to life any minute.

“What about it, Wrecker?” Hunter asked.

“Oh, ah…yeah, okay,”

“Really?” Hunter asked, surprised, “you really don’t have to.”

Wrecker had been scared of needles since he was a cadet. No real surprise given the amount of testing he and his brothers had to endure.

“No, I want to. I mean, I don’t, but Tech would do the same for me,”

He and Crosshair shared a look but set about making it happen. Wrecker sat on the couch as Crosshair worked on a small version of Tech’s design on his bicep. Hunter and Omega tried to keep Wrecker distracted. He would occasionally wince, but Omega would hold his hand or offer him a snack and his face would soften.

By the time Wrecker’s was done it was completely dark outside. They set about cleaning up, getting things tidied up and dinner on the go. Wrecker took lead on the latter.

“Hunter?” Omega asked quietly, “can I get that tattoo?”

Hunter had been afraid of this. Omega wanted nothing but to copy her brothers, it was no surprise she wanted a tattoo like them as well.

“Ah, you know kid…” he looked at her big brown eyes, hair flopping over her forehead and cascading down her back. “I think you’re a little young…”

“I’m older than all of you,” she said, hand on her hips, a confident grin on her lips.

Hunter looked over at Crosshair for support. He just shrugged. Hunter knew how much Tech meant to her and how affected she was by his death. He paused for a moment and ran his hands through his hair.

“You know what kid, you’re right. Sure. What were you thinking?”

Omega jumped up and down with glee and Hunter’s heart felt like it was going to burst. He really would do anything for this girl.

The sun had completely set by the time it was done. The skin on her wrist was red except for the heavy black ink. A skull with a lightning bolt behind it. Just like her brothers.

[cj-schlatt]

Take Me Out - Part One

Pairing: MLB player!Schlatt x gn!sideline reporter!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Schlatt is the new first baseman for the New York Mets, and you’re the team’s new sideline reporter.

Content: Fluff!

A/N: I went with the Mets over the Yankees because a.) I’m a Red Sox fan, and b.) the Yankees are strict and only allow mustaches (long live the chops). Enjoy! :)

You feel like a kid on the first day of school. You’ve got that nervous, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of feeling, but in a good way.

It’s your first official day as the sideline reporter for the New York Mets, and you couldn’t be more excited. All those long nights of studying, all your hard work to obtain your communications degree, have finally paid off.

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you enter Clover Park for the first time. You’re in beautiful Port St. Lucie, Florida, and Spring Training is just getting underway. The smell of freshly-cut grass hangs in the air as you watch the players running drills on the field.

It’s here, as you speak to a member of the production team near the dugout, that you catch your first glimpse of him.

His laugh is what you hear first. Instinctively, you turn towards the sound, and that’s when you see him. He’s standing near first base, facing away from you, showing off the number 99 that covers his broad back.

Schlatt, everyone calls him, despite the surname stitched across the back of his jersey. His reputation precedes him. Everyone has heard the scouting reports, seen the viral videos passed around social media. In the minor leagues, he’s been known for his antics, taunting runners on the opposing team when they reach him at first base. It’s his first year being called up to the majors, and he’s one of the big stories for the team, the player to watch.

You’ve done your homework. You know all about Schlatt and his rather colorful personality. He’s certainly one of the more animated players in the sport, always fired up after a solid hit or a particularly impressive defensive play. He’s cocky, and, honestly, he has every right to be. He’s the Mets’ number one prospect, an above-average first baseman and strong power hitter. You know he’s going to be a handful in interviews, but you’re up for the challenge.

You can’t tell from this angle, but you know that if Schlatt were to turn around, you’d see the infamous mutton chops. Second to his spectacular playing ability, his unusual facial hair has been one of his defining characteristics since he was first drafted. Love it or hate it, it gets the fans talking, keeping that oh-so important spotlight on him.

You’re pulled out of your musings by a shout of, “Look out!” followed by a baseball whizzing past your head, narrowly avoiding you. You look to the field to see a few players standing around sheepishly.

“You okay?” To your surprise, it’s Schlatt who turns to ask you.

You give him a thumbs up. “All good,” you call out to him.

With a satisfied nod, he turns back to face the field.

It’s going to be an interesting season, you think.

You’re packed into the press room like sardines, shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow reporters. You all crowd around the podium where Schlatt sits, an array of microphones and cell phones in front of his face to catch his every word.

The press conference begins, and you’re called upon to ask the first question.

You open your mouth to speak.

Before you can get a word out, an older, male reporter begins talking over you. “What do you think—”

“Hey,” Schlatt cuts the reporter off sharply. “Let ‘em speak.” He gestures to you.

You feel your cheeks heat as seemingly every pair of eyes in the room turns towards you. You take a breath, then, as calmly as you can, ask your question: “What’s your takeaway from day one of Spring Training?”

Schlatt hums thoughtfully before answering, “That we look good out there, but we still have a lot of work to do before we’re ready for Opening Day.” He leans back a little in his chair and adjusts his cap. “That all?”

“One more thing: got any advice for a rookie reporter, as a rookie yourself?”

He grins wide. “Just enjoy it. We’re in the big leagues, baby!” he whoops, and the crowd erupts in laughter and scattered applause.

Before moving onto the next reporter, you swear Schlatt shoots a wink in your direction.

Spring Training flies by. Before you know it, you’re on a plane to New York for Opening Day. The sun is shining bright on Citi Field, helping to warm the chilly air.

You’re trying your best to soak it all in. This is what you’ve dreamed of for so long, and you want to enjoy every moment of it.

What an exciting Opening Day it turns out to be. The Mets and Phillies have gone back and forth, earning runs and keeping the score close throughout the game.

It’s now the bottom of the ninth, and the teams are tied three-to-three. There are two outs, no one on base, and Schlatt is up at bat. The count is full—three balls, two strikes. It all comes down to the next pitch.

You watch with bated breath as the Phillies pitcher throws a blazing fastball towards the plate. Schlatt swings the bat, and—CRACK! Just from the sound, you know it’s gone, and Schlatt does, too. He stands in the batter’s box for a few moments, watching the ball sail into the stands, before beginning his victory trot around the bases.

The crowd is going absolutely crazy. Lights are flashing all around, and music is blaring through the stadium speakers. The Mets dugout empties to meet Schlatt at home plate, where they convene in a huge group, shouting and high-fiving one another.

As the celebration on the field dwindles and players are headed off the field, you’re able to get Schlatt’s attention for a post-game interview. You can hear Gary, the announcer, in your ear, setting it up for the viewers at home.

“Schlatt!” you have to practically yell over the crowd. “That was amazing! What’s going through your mind right now?”

He’s breathing heavily, standing with his hands on his hips and leaning in to hear you better.

You think he starts to talk, but you’re suddenly doused in ice-cold liquid. You gasp and instinctively try to back away, but it’s too late. You realize, belatedly, that another Mets player has dumped the Gatorade cooler in celebration, but seems to have missed his mark.

“What the fuck, man?!” Schlatt shouts at his teammate, instinctively putting an arm around your shoulder, as if to shield you from another onslaught.

You shiver, not completely sure if it’s from the unexpected contact or the fact that you’re soaking wet in New York in early April. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

The station must have cut back to the booth by now. At the very least, the audio will have been muted momentarily when Schlatt swore. Still, you’re pretty sure that, even though the camera is there, it’s not broadcasting you in all your drowned rat glory.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Schlatt mutters to himself before focusing his attention on you. “Are you alright? Lemme get you a towel.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you try to tell him, but he’s already jogging towards the dugout and returning moments later with a clean towel, ironically emblazoned with the Gatorade logo.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the towel and attempting, maybe in vain, to dry yourself off. You’re at least able to get the worst of it so there is no longer Gatorade running into your eyes, which is an improvement.

Schlatt crosses his arms and shakes his head. “I’m sorry about him.”

To be honest, you’re surprised he’s still here, still talking to you. You figured he’d want to get out of here as quickly as possible, but here he stands, looking genuinely concerned.

“It’s alright,” you try to brush it off.

“No, it’s not,” he insists. “I’ll talk to him, make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

You smile appreciatively. “Thank you,” you say again.

He smiles back at you softly. It’s so unlike him, you think—or, at least, so unlike the version of himself that he presents on the field and in interviews. It’s like you’re getting a peek at the real Schlatt, the man behind the persona.

You’re whisked off the field soon after. The production team assures you that you don’t have to stick around for the post-game press conferences, insisting that you go home and get cleaned up, for which you’re very grateful.

One very uncomfortable (but thankfully short) walk later, you’re back at your apartment. You quickly peel off your ruined outfit and hop in the shower, eager to wash off the day (and the Gatorade).

Soon, you’re curled up on the couch, cozy in your pajamas. It’s then that you feel your phone buzz, pulling it out of your pocket to reveal a wall of notifications. Confused, you unlock your phone, trying to make sense of the influx of Twitter mentions.

You nearly drop your phone when you open Twitter.

There, on your screen, is a video of you, microphone in hand as you begin interviewing Schlatt, before the Gatorade shower interrupts you both. The video doesn’t end there, though. You watch in disbelief as Schlatt puts his arm around you and continues talking to you, unaware that the camera is still rolling. Sure, there are a few moments where the audio is muted to cover up Schlatt’s f-bombs, but it appears that SNY aired your entire interaction with Schlatt.

You scroll down, eyebrows raising as you read through the replies. There are screenshots of Schlatt with his arm around you, followed by incomprehensible strings of letters and an impressive amount of emojis. You don’t really know what to make of it, and you try to put it out of your mind as you get up to make yourself dinner.

An hour or so later, you get a text from an unknown number:

can we talk?

A second message comes through moments later:

it’s schlatt

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think! :)

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed Pt. 3 finale

Warnings: siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, Homelander being a stalker, innocent reader, naive reader, Homelander being a basic menace, some uncomfortable parts, dubcon, secrets, manipulation, grooming (feel like that's what Homelander is doing), age gap, power imbalance, series finale, definite angst, no real comfort 😅

Words: 3609

Summary: Your world comes crashing down all around you.

Part 1 Part 2

Starlight recoils when she reads the headlines a few days after she paid a visit to the Boys.

She doesn't want to read the rest of the article, but her thumb resists the signals her brain is desperately throwing at it. A picture dated three days ago had her sagging to the mattress of her hotel room.

You were decked in the obnoxious Vought produced supe outfit. While not being an exact copy of Homelander's, it still bore his signature colors in some way. You're standing proudly next to Homelander who has a possessive hand hovering near your waist.

There's a loss she feels that she can't quite place. Starlight felt like she failed to protect you in some way. She should have told you soon after her discovery, but Stillwell held other plans for her. Transferred to another district to collaborate with a fellow supe that was under Vought contract.

Immediately Starlight wonders if being sent away at that moment was on purpose. There was too much for it to be a mere coincidence.

Which only meant that Ashley and possibly Stillwell were aware of the truth behind you and Homelander.

This really did go all the way to the top.

How on earth was she going to help you now? You were getting too entangled with not just Homelander, but Vought as well. The closer you got to Homelander, the tighter Vought's grip was on you. And that meant the more difficult it would be to get you out. You were being groomed, that much was certain to Starlight as she tries to formulate a new plan.

All she could think of now was her actions harming you. Now that you were in love with Homelander, you might resist the truth.

On cue, a ring rips through her anxious self musings. Hughie to save the day.

"This whole situation is fucked, Hughie." Starlight spits out the second she answers.

"I know." Hughie hurriedly acknowledges. "Do you think Homelander is aware that. . . t-that's his sister?"

That's another pointed question that Annie was stumped on. She couldn't offer him an answer. Positive of one thing though, Annie grabs her belongings while pressing her phone to her ear with the help of her shoulder. There was no use in just sitting there and wondering.

She'd get the answers herself. Returning to Vought Tower immediately was her one good option.

Hughie reminds her to be careful, that Homelander was volatile and most likely wouldn't hesitating in bashing her head in.

From the outside of the sky piercing building, everything appeared to be business as usual. Even on the first floor nothing felt off to Starlight. She was greeted with friendly 'hellos' by employees left to right.

Once the elevator dings and stops at Floor 99, Starlight nearly leapt out of the lift the moment the doors parted. In her haste she accidentally bumps into Maeve.

"Whoa, slow down there." Maeve eyes her up and down with suspicion.

"Is it true that Homelander and (y/n) are dating now?" Starlight quietly hisses, trying to pull the one other female supe aside to a more secluded corridor.

"Starlight I know its weird but (y/n) is an adult and-"

Inwardly Starlight's skin crawls at the idea that Maeve was okay with the obvious power imbalance between Homelander and his new unfortunate paramour. For a hot second, she debates whether or not to tell Maeve the truth. Would she believe her though?

It would be an outlandish claim to make against the leader of the Seven. And you. . . You would face so much backlash and hate. God, Starlight hopes that the two of you haven't slept together yet.

Rudely leaving Maeve to ponder what was going on, Starlight storms to find the one person who most likely already knows the truth.

"Ashley!"

There's a momentary freeze in her walk, back turned to Starlight. When Ashley realizes who it is, she releases of sigh of relief. "Oh. Starlight. Welcome back."

"I need a moment with you in your office."

"Unfortunately I have an important meeting to attend right now. Call my assistant-"

"Goddamnit Ashley." She was losing her patience. Starlight's much stronger hand abruptly lashes out to grab hold of Ashley's arm.

Ashley knows better to play around with the temper of supes. Her face drains as she tries to retain an ounce of courage to nod her head and follow Starlight back to the security of her office.

But when Starlight finally voices the accusation, something awful happens to Ashley's expression. Pure fear.

"Just leave it Starlight!" Ashley snapped, attempting to rise up to a taller height.

"You know?" Starlight's eyes are round. "How long have you known?"

Biting the bottom of her lip, a hand raises shakingly to the tips of her red hair in an anxious manner. Like she wanted to tug a lock free from her scalp. Her eyes become glassy with tears that she refused to spill in front of Starlight.

"From the beginning. . ." Ashley's voice comes out as if she's about to cry. "Mr. Edgar told me to keep my head down and my mouth shut if I wanted to keep my job. And keep my life. . ."

"Who else knows?"

The newly christened VOUGHT CEO shakes her head. "No one else. But documents do exist. . ."

"Homelander's lying to her! She doesn't know that. . . Oh god, she doesn't know that he's her blood brother!" Impossible to keep her voice down when she was so outraged. Starlight wasn't sure if Homelander was in the Tower at the moment. It was dangerous to be too loud.

"I-It's absolutely wrong. I know, but Starlight- I'm so fucking terrified of what Homelander would do to me if I tried to take her away. I'm sorry Annie. I can't. I can't get between him and something he really wants."

Pursing her lips, Annie nods but doesn't blame Ashley. "I get it."

Starlight will just have to do it herself then.

You'd been floating on cloud nine after Homelander kissed you. What really shocked you was Homelander immediately asking you on a date after the kiss. Like he was too impatient to wait any longer to ask you out. Never thinking that America's number one supe would be interested in you in that way. As a kid he was your childhood crush. The perfect man. Strong, handsome, charming, no one else could compare to the perfection of Homelander.

While you were nervous for the first date, being with him actually soothed you. He treated you like a princess. His princess. And since that day, it really has felt like one of those fantasy romance novels you enjoyed reading.

He proudly showed you off on his arm whenever someone asked for a picture. Some of his fans were excited to see you join the Seven one day and make your supe debut next to your boyfriend. You knew they were only flattering you because Homelander gazed at you with such adoration.

"Once they get to know you, they'll love you." Homelander flashed you that smile that had your tummy bubbling like jacuzzi jets. "My love will have to be enough for now."

That caught you off guard. Love. "Your love?"

Homelander leaned in, lips hovering over your's. "Yes."

You got to experience him the way no one else has had the pleasure to witness.

With you, Homelander was utterly soft and affectionate. Watching tv you'd have his head in your lap, running your fingers through his blonde hair. You swore you heard him purr a few times. Homelander (he insisted you call him 'John' when the two of you were alone) would nuzzle his face into your thighs with the happiest grin on his face. Like he'd never experienced such bliss before.

He was the modern day equivalent to all mighty Zeus. A god. Yet he was acting similar to a cat who rubs their cheek possessively against you.

This man could easily laser your face off in a millisecond. Homelander never showed any aggression toward you. Not one harsh grip unless it was in passion.

You don't dwell on the face heating thought that was started to tug at your tummy.

"Starlight! Welcome back!" You smile ear to ear once you spot a familiar blonde head.

She spins on her heels and there's an expression of relief when she realizes its you who called out her name.

As she rushes up to you, you ask her "Did you just get back?"

Directly in front of you, Starlight's dark eyes seem to scan you. For what, you don't know.

When she doesn't say anything, you repeat her name and she comes back to herself. Blinking thick lashes once before shaking her head. "Sorry. Still jetlagged. Yeah. I just got back about half an hour ago."

"You're probably exhausted then." You smile and grip her arm with affection. "I'm glad you're back! I've been missing you as a sparring partner."

Even as you spoke, there was a loud ringing in your ears from the erratic thumping of Starlight's heartbeat. She was scared of something.

"Not one bit. It's good to be back. Reinvigorates me. Hey, are you busy right now? I was really craving some coffee from this really good cafe. Wanna tag along?"

The skip of her heart sounds like a plead for you to say yes. You try to keep your face worry free. "Yes! I would love to."

Did something happen on her assignment?

The walk took you several streets over, far from the Tower. During that time, she talked about where she'd been sent, what the operation was. You in turn told her about your accomplishments with your powers and training. Leaving the news about Homelander for last.

Tempering the excitement in your voice, you eye Starlight for a response. There was an unexplainable kinship you felt with her. She was the big sister you never had. Maeve was inspirational enough, but someone you felt like you would never be able to get close to.

"And how's it been? The relationship?" She tentatively asks. "Has he been treating you right?"

Enthusiastically you nod. "He has! I was worried at first, because of the age gap and, ya'know, he's THE Homelander. But. . . he's been so sweet and caring. I've never had a boyfriend before so maybe I'm being too hopeful about it."

At the cafe and with your orders in front of you, you recline into the leather chair. Neither of you being in supe uniform, no one bats an eye in your direction. “Are you okay Annie?”

“Me?”

You nod. “When I saw you… well, you sounded off. A little distressed.”

Annie tries to think of lies to tell you. Looking at your large, hopeful eyes killed her. She rolls her words around her mouth before spitting them out. "I guess I am a little distressed. About you and Homelander."

Waiting to see if you'd disregard her, Starlight attempts to continue but is caught off by a gruff voice "You finally tellin' the poor girl what kind of monster Homelander is?"

You're more so shocked at Starlight hissing 'Fuck' than the lumbering man behind you. Eyes, hair, clothes, even the aura smudged around him was pitch black. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

"Annie?" You look to her.

She's glaring at this dark interloper. "Get out of here."

He ignores her, and grabs a chair from a nearby abandoned table to join the two of you. The cafe was buzzing with noise allowing some coverage for personal discussions.

Chair positioned closer to you, his eyes drill into you with scrutiny. You'd never felt such resentment in a gaze. "Aren't you a naive little girl."

"Stop it, Butcher. I was just about to explain to her-"

"Annie, it's okay. Lower your voice." You don't know how you keep calm when deep down you're scared of what was going on. That was one thing you really learned from Maeve: act calm under pressure.

Annie takes in a slow breath. "I did mean to tell you sooner. . . It's just been hard for me to. . . you know, figure out how I was going to tell you." Her eyes are glossy. She leans in, so close her cheek brushes against your's as she whispers into your ear. . .

Butcher watches the slow widening of your eyes in sick satisfaction. How your face blanched of any color, robbed of any other expression besides one of revulsion.

You'd barely made it into the restroom stall before your throat was lined with the acidity of your vomit.

She wouldn't lie to you.

Why would Annie lie to you about this?

You didn't want to believe though. To do so would rip you apart. Homelander was-

Gagging, you hunch over the porcelain rim. Ears clogged, you're surprised that you catch the sound of the restroom door opening. Starlight's tentative voice calls out to you. She stands right outside the stall you occupied.

The last thing you wanted to do was show your face ever again, to anyone. "Who else knows?" Your throat hurts when you speak. Choking back a new wave of tears, you repeat your question when she didn't answer after a few seconds.

"I think it's best if you come with me. . ."

You did. After cleaning your face up, you let Starlight walk you out and back to the man called Butcher who patiently waited. From there he led you and Starlight through a dizzying array of side streets and dark alleys. No words were exchanged. Once safely inside a dingy apartment you were met by several others. The Boys, Starlight called them.

While Butcher may have been a complete bastard, the others appeared to possess more empathy toward you. They answered all of your questions to the best of their abilities.

Very few knew of your real relationship with Homelander. High up Vought executives (including Ashley). None of the Seven knew. Except. . .

"He knew. This entire time he knew." Hearing you whisper that broke Starlight's heart. She shares a look with Hughie to see his own sad shimmer in his eyes. "Why then- I don't understand. Why then did he-" Something in your stomach turns. You just can't say it out loud.

"Because he's fucked up." MM softly tells you.

For a moment you worriedly chew on your bottom lip mercilessly. "I can't go back." You'd never be able to look at him again. All the wonderful things you thought had happened to you since arriving at the tower were all based on sick lies and deception. Those who knew the truth must have thought of you as a stupid, naive child. Sheltered the entirety of her life before being thrown to the lions.

Annie gathers your hands in her's. "You don't have to. You don't have to step foot in there ever again."

"Unfortunately I don't think that's up to her." Butcher interjects. "The moment Homelander finds out she's not at Vought Towers, he'll be after her scent. You think he's going to be willing to let you go that easy?"

Hughie sighs, wishing his friend had more bed side manners. The truth of Butcher's words terrified you.

Homelander wasn't someone who you could hide from easily. Your powers, while being near identical to his, were no where near as honed. Telekinetic ability was the major one that you had over Homelander. Would that be enough to stop him?

Butcher's resentment toward supes, holding majority sway in his mindset, regards you with a crumb of respect. You didn't cry in front of him or any of the others present. Sclera of your eyes were red and held a mirror-like shine, but not one tear.

You were created for the sole purpose of one day going up against Homelander in a fight. The proof was the ink on the paper. Why you were raised so different from him.

And why you realize you have to go back to Vought Tower if not to publicly stand your ground and and separate an ties you had to both Vought and Homelander.

Your eyes were wide open now.

The upper levels of Vought were suffering from a Homelander melt down. Ashley found herself cowering under her desk the second she was able to whimper out that you were gone. He exploded in a flurry of rage when he came back from searching for you and he couldn't spot you anywhere.

He's screaming at Analytics, terrifying the poor workers to scan their screens faster. In and out of Vought Towers, many civilians from below only hear the zooming sound that he produces when he shoots across the sky. Making laps around the city to no avail.

"GOD DAMNIT ASHLEY!! You better have some good fucking news-" His eyes widen, body freezing.

You stood in the mess of ruined furniture that Homelander destroyed in his rage. Homelander breathes out your name, a delirious smile relaxing his face. "You worried me! I didn't know where you were! Wh-Where were you actually?" Catching his attention are the bags at your feet.

Fuck.

He can't breathe.

"I know everything." Grief and disgust hollow out your insides to where you felt a controllable numbness. It helped take the edge off for the moment.

"What're you talking about?" His smile remains, but there's definitely something cold about it.

This was the side of him that the Boys warned you about. "Stop. You know what I'm talking about. At least give me that bit of respect, Homelander. Or should I refer to you as brother?"

Reek of fear emanates from him. That revealed plenty.

"You don't understand-" Making the mistake of trying to get closer to you, you shoot him red eyes searing with the threat of lasers. Its enough to make him think again.

"Were you ever going to tell me? O-Or were you going to lie to me for the rest of my life?

"I never lied to you!" Homelander flinches at the volume of his own voice. Heavily breathing, he finds himself clenching and unclenching his hands.

Anger burns the backs of your eyes quite literally. "You told me that you loved me! You don't lie to people you love." You grind out.

"I do love you! Believe ME!" He craved to find out who told you. "Just let me talk! I only want what's best for you. Always! I LOVE you!"

Those three words that previously had your heart doing flips now makes you recoil. "Don't. Don't say that anymore. We're related!!"

"I know we are! Which means that any potential child we have will be the ultimate example of how supes can transcend their mortal skin to that of a god!"

You stare at him in naked disbelief. The red flags seemed so obvious now. Using the psionic aspect of your powers, your bags lift from the ground. Chest shuddering when you breathe out "I'm getting the fuck out of here. We're done."

"Now hold on!" Attempting to invade your space and perhaps push you in a corner, your control over your bags drops and instead it picks up several broken leg chairs with sharp ends all primed toward Homelander. His eyes glow at your disobedience.

No one breathes.

Slowly backing up to the broken window that allowed you access, you keep your gaze on him as you disarm and mentally reach for your bags.

"Don't come after me. Or I'll kill you."

With that you fall backward out the window and take to the sky.

Was this what it was like to experience a heart attack? The ringing in his ears wasn't letting up, banging at the walls of his skull.

Homelander lets out a wild howl that follows you all the way back to the hideout of the Boys. It shook the windows of the entire street block, even managed to break a few too. Glass showers down on unsuspecting people who scream and cower for coverage.

He'd find out who told you and rip their spine out through their asshole.

For years he's waited for and wanted a family. Something to officially put his stamp on and claim as his legacy. You weren't going to ruin that for him. You just didn't understand yet. Perhaps the intensity of his love for you must have scared you. That had to be it.

He runs his gloved hand over his face, hating how it trembled. He may not be able to find you now, but it was inevitable that he'd see you again. Homelander would make sure of that.

Then he'll chain you to himself if he has to and force you to be happy.

You'd understand.

Soon.

You surprise the Boys, standing at their front door. Determination and a burning in your gaze that intrigued Butcher. Panting as you flew as fast as you could to put distance between you and Vought Towers. Bags dropping to your feet as you lean against the frame of the door. "How can I help take down that sick fuck?"

Butcher smirks "You realize this won't be easy lovey."

"I'm well aware." You curtly reply, tiring of his games. "If Vought kept this secret nice and tucked away, how many more secrets do they have in their possessions? To bring Vought to the ground, you need to use their own weapon against them. Who better than Homelander's very blood?"

"Well well, look who grew up in a matter of hours." There's encouragement in his deranged smile. "Scorched earth?"

You nod. "Scorched earth."

Open ended ending :p don't ya just love them? I might make kinda like an epilogue type thing later but as of now this mini-story is finished :)

Taglist:

@the-maladaptive-daydreamers

@demodemo909

[allforhee]

"𝐖𝐇𝐎'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑?" (BLURB) | HAN JISUNG

୨୧ pairing — idol!han x stylist!fem!reader

୨୧ synopsis — being a hairdresser and stylist at jyp, you didn't expect to become han jisung's girlfriend. but with it, you now have yourself your personal wig to test out your hairstyles on. and han being your loving boyfriend, of course he won't say no. but when the members start noticing the different hairstyles at practices, they start to get suspicious.

୨୧ genre — fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden romance

୨୧ warnings — secret relationship, stylist x idol, no mentions of y/n, hurt/comfort, han being a LITTLE insecure

୨୧ word count — 1678 words, not really proofread

୨୧ author’s note — first skz fic and new layout! this fic is dedicated to my favorite mootie; aika, aka @spiderhanzzz and to all my han girlies out there!!!!! i hope i did him justice hihi! inspired by brooklyn 99 6x06—where rosa shows up with a new hairstyle everyday of the investigation!!! this was so fun to write and i hope you all enjoy ;)

becoming han's girlfriend was something out of the ordinary.

you remember the days of interning for jyp's hairdressers and stylists, standing in the back and taking note of the different procedures that were done. you'd follow the main stylists around different shifts, from the female idols to the male idols.

you'd help by assisting the main stylists by giving them the scissors they needed, do a quick minimart run to buy some hairspray or hair ties that ran out, and maybe at some point bringing the used towels into the laundry.

as you followed around and practiced more, from an intern to a regularly paid hairdresser at jyp, you had progressed your skills in styling and cutting hair proudly.

you started doing your own shifts, starting off with groups like itzy and twice, before you decided to try out handling the boy groups.

fate had its own plans when you were assigned to style the hit group; stray kids.

meeting bangchan, known as chris, you'd learn to fall in love with styling them. but your heart would learn to fall in love with none other than their rapper and producer, han.

han would always start conversations with you while styling his hair, which you would happily reply to.

you knew falling in love with him was petty, when your only interactions were when you had to style his hair. yes, you may or may not have bumped into him once or twice in the hallways as you were on the way to style the next group, but a relationship? you were surprised yourself when he confessed he felt a spark between the two of you.

that's what started the courtship between the two of you. a spark. you knew it was forbidden. you knew it couldn't happen. what would the media say if it got out? "scandalous relationship between stray kids' HAN and random stylist!" oh you could see the headlines.

so when you started coming over to style han's hair more and more often, you had hoped that the other members wouldn't get suspicious of han's constant nagging of you being the one to style his hair.

to the point even you yourself would ask him if he could come over and let you try out a new hairstyle you've been learning. he'd asked you to be his girlfriend soon after. with it, you both had to learn to be more careful with the moves you took, as some of the dressing rooms had other stylists stationed to deal with other members. one wrong move and you'd be fired.

the first member to notice han's not-so discreet changes was none other than changbin. obviously they'd both practice together for shows to perfect their rapping technique, changbin begun to notice the different hairstyles.

to the point when han showed up with tiny little braids in his curly hair, was when he decided to ask.

"hannie-ya! your hair, that's interesting..." as he points at the little braids all over his hair.

han's surprised look signified something else, but his response just made it more suspicious; "oh- this? yeah, i'm trying out some things since my stylist came in late..."

"stylist? it's just practice? what would you need a stylist for?" changbin inquires, still curious.

"you know... curly hair is harder to manage!" he laughs, trying to brush off the topic.

changbin pats him on the back, knowing there was something more—but not wanting to interfere, "alright hannie, let's get to practice."

han let out a sigh, but even he knew he was slowly walking onto some thin ice. thankfully, changbin didn't tell the rest of the members of his suspicions.

but as time went on, the other members started picking up on his hair. his usual held back practice hair would turn into curls, braids, and even little space buns at one point.

by now, everyone knew of his constant changes of his hair. they knew each other well enough that they didn't need their hair styled if it was for a practice.

chan knew he had to confront him at some point, worried han was spending money on stylists he didn't need.

so during breaks in between practice chan approached him, a stern look on his face. "hannie, we need to talk about your finances."

han, obviously shocked at the question, responded with a quick "i'm an idol, what do you mean my finances?"

chan furrowed his brows, sighing. "han jisung, i'm serious. i don't want you running around the place spending useless money on stylists you don't need! if it was for fashion or clothing i would understand, but you have to understand that you don't need to go to a stylist everyday."

"i'm not spending useless money, hyung! so what i want my hair styled everyday?" han tried to defend.

"the thing is, you've been coming to practices late! you may not realize it and i may accept your tardiness once or twice, but it's getting too repetitive. what is it han? you have a secret girlfriend or something?!"

the entire practice room went quiet at chan's last statement. everyone else perked up and tried to focus on han's response. when han didn't respond and just hung his head low, everyone knew chan was right.

"hannie-ah, why didn't you tell us? we're your brothers." chan asked, trying to comfort him.

but before han could respond changbin cut with a "yah! i knew it! i knew you had a secret girlfriend! so who is she? is she a stylist or something?"

changbin's last sentence made him lower his head even further, lifting up the hood of his hoodie, only to hide his face in it.

"hyung? you have a girlfriend?" jeongin cluelessly asked.

seungmin gasps before he cuts in; "he does! wait, is it that one hair stylist you keep asking for every time we need to perform?"

all of them look to seungmin; "which hair stylist?" chan asked.

before han had a chance to respond, he pushed through the members crowding him as he ran out of the practice room. he opened his phone to find your contact pinned, and pressed call.

"jisungie? hello? what's wrong?" hearing your voice come out of his speaker made him calm down. your voice was like the light at the end of the tunnel.

"baby, i messed up. the members know." he confessed.

"know what?" you ask, confused. "about us?"

"yeah... i'm so scared they're going to find out, like what if they fire me... what if they fire you?" he questions to himself.

"sungie, stay where you are, okay? i'll find you. you need to calm down. what practice room are you at today?"

he sighs, "the usual, but i'm outside."

"i'm on my way." the line beeps as the call ends, as han grasps his phone hoping you'd come faster.

his eyes close as he tries to take deep breaths, hoping the awful scenarios he imagined would happen not come true. he then feels a soft hand on his shoulder, and as his eyes open, he engulfs the figure in a hug before he could even notice who it was.

"hannie? are you okay?" you ask him, hair clad in a claw clip after rushing from another appointment.

he stutters out a; "mianhae—mianhae—mianhae, i know you're mad at me, it's okay, i'll just have to live on the streets when they fire me and open a hair salon with you—"

he gasps as you cradle his tender face in your hands, shaking his head in disappointment. "what do you mean? han, now that your members know, we don't have to hide around anymore."

"i know that baby, but what would our label say? what if they find out?"

"that's not for your pretty head to worry about right now, for now we can enjoy the fact that you can be honest with your members. no more hiding around, no more late excuses to practices. come clean baby, it's okay." you comfort him.

han looks up at you, "you sure?" before you nod. he embraces you in another hug, before standing up and grabbing your hand, dragging you into the practice room.

everyone looks towards the doors that just opened, seungmin hurriedly standing up and cutting the silence with a; "hyung i'm so sorry i didn't mean to..."

that's when they see the two of you. han takes a deep breath before he starts speaking, as you clench his hand, signaling it's okay.

"guys... this is my hair stylist. my girlfriend." han confesses, looking into your eyes for assurance. everybody waves an annyeong to you, which you wave back. you were still in your stylist attire, an apron clad around your waist with different bits and bobs.

"so, she's your stylist? you gotta hook me up dude!" hyunjin teased him, which earned him a slap on the back from han. you laughed at the gesture, showing his protectiveness for you.

"she's my stylist, stay away!" he'd whine, hiding you behind him.

"so he's been getting his hair styled for free?!" felix asked you, which you nodded. "man we suck... we should all get stylist girlfriends."

"i have my cats... i think we're okay yongbok." minho chuckles as he puts his arm around him.

chan smiles at the interactions happening, seungmin and jeongin appalled by your presence, felix and minho arguing about whether or not they should follow han's footsteps into getting a stylist girlfriend, and changbin and hyunjin teasing han for getting someone like you.

you didn't mind the chaos, seeing chan smile at you signaling you've been welcomed into their little family.

looking at han's red face, trying to keep his composure, you quickly peck his cheek to make sure he's okay. he looked at you with a nervous smile, but you know everything's going to be fine. as long as he's by your side.

"yah! i knew it! oh ever since those little braids in your hair, i just knew it hannie-ah!" changbin laughs, han blushing at his words.

yeah. you've got han, and he's got you.

taglist; @riekiss @sesameoil721 @desistay @spiderhanzzz (crossed out = i can't tag you)

back to my masterlist?

© 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐄, est. 2024 | do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or repost my works on any platforms.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

hiii :3!! Could you do a gn!reader x geo one bed left trope pls :3? (IM A SUCKER FOR TJAT DYNAMIC PLS ☹️)

A Lone Respite (Geo x MC/Reader - One Bed)

Hope you enjoy Annonie.

You're in an established relationship with Geode muahahaha

Anyway uhhhhh. Yuh.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Lone: having no companions; solitary or single.

Respite: a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.

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

You and Geo had decided...well, you decided — you just had to stubbornly convince him — to go travel places after school. Specifically Japan and possibly parts of Europe.

So when you both finally flew there (on Geo’s private jet of course), it mostly entailed him just taking you to all the fanciest places (because he’s 110% new-money-rich...or old money idk) and just showing you around. 

Most people actually don’t side eye you (because you know how some tourists like to assault the Geishas and all that? I don’t blame the Japanese personally), and some are just happy that A. (at least) one of you two speaks the language and knows the culture well; and B. that you (if not of Japanese descent, which I know is most of you readers), are trying to speak their language. 

I’m 99% sure Geo has Japanese citizenship, so if –when– you get married, you bet your ass you’re getting one as well (muahahaha)

You both are just going to places he knows are good, mostly in the more urban cities, like Tokyo,  until you both decide to visit the more coastal regions.

Geo does not live near the beach, so you’ll have to book out a hotel (this mf will book everything reluctantly lol; he’s not a fan of hotels at all, he probably thinks they’re filthy).

Anyway, after you both just wander around a beach (probs the Ishigaki one idfk), you return to the hotel you guys booked and…well…you get your keys, go to your room and...

One bed.

One single bed (heheheh imagine making your requester suffer couldn’t be me).

And Geo is malding. Very very stoically.

He’s death-staring the bed, a very cold, menacing glint in his ocean eyes.

You’re a bit concerned, because you know Geo isn’t gonna share a bed with you; and annoyed, because now Geo was probably gonna lose his McMarbles™.

So, you both take your stuff and leave to the reception (mostly him stalking out, vehement ornery in the rigidity of his posture).

You stayed behind to watch over your things, in case Geo deemed this place unworthy and dragged you both out.

And, well, that’s exactly what happened.

He came back and proceeded to bluntly state you’re leaving.

“We’re going, they refunded us.”

“Geo what-”

So you both go somewhere else, because, apparently, they didn’t have other rooms to spare with a double bed, then the staff started claiming he hadn’t even paid for it, so he got his money-decked ass (and yours) outta there ASAP.

Anyway, by the time you get to another hotel, Geo states, in Japanese, something that seemed formal, at least it sounded formal, you didn’t know lmfao.

Due to the fact it was getting later in the night, and Geo is a very big fan of beauty sleep, the first thing he does is check the bed.

A n o t h e r   v e r y   l o n e l y   b e d. (can we have 100 likes for the lonely bed thank you😔)

At least it was a queen sized bed this time.

It takes 27 minutes of pure debate, but you convince Geo to just sleep, because you’re both tired —and you told him people who get stressed get wrinkles and he doesn’t want those lol–.

So he pulls out one of those weird lights that reveal stains on bedsheets and whatnot (you know those janky ones that people use to check if their bed is actually clean or not?). And he’s *very* paranoid about cleanliness. He hates dirt.

Thank God the bed is actually clean, so Geo immediately unpacks the bare necessities and steals the bathroom (dw he already checked it as well it’s clean).

Yeah bro I’m sorry this man won’t let you wash up before him.

He might even be a germaphobe tbh.

Anyway, after his very long, very amazing skincare routine and shower, Geo emerges, his hair loosely falling down his lanky frame (omg omg omg bark bark woof?!?!?!?!!?!?!).

He tells you to hurry up and usurps a side of the bed (probably the one nearest to the restroom so he can freshen up bright and early).

So when you shower and get out of the restroom, he’s telling you to sleep. (also btw, he’s gonna crack all his joints before sleeping, he probably even meditates, so be quiet when you’re in the restroom).

You better make sure to not snore or kick in your sleep though, this man will throw you off the bed if he has to, sleep is superior to relationships for him (such a mood tbh).

But usually when it comes to one bed, he’s gonna take it from you. (He’d have to really like you to share a bed with you in the first place).

If you are the type to get nervous when sleeping in an unfamiliar place though? He’ll “reluctantly” offer his arms and you squish into him. (don’t push it guys I know it’s tempting ngh)

He’ll also be the type to go to a buffet (there is definitely gonna be one, he refuses to go to anyplace that doesn’t have one, especially in the more remote areas of any country).

So expect, when he wakes you up at like 7am, to be served food at a table. He won’t allow eating in bed, both from the fact it’s weird to him and also just…what if you drop some food or something??? He’d get embarrassed on your behalf…

But after that funny time is over, you both continue to traverse Japan, deciding to put that time behind you. Well, Geo does. You 110% are gonna try and sleep in his arms more often now. >:)

[jung-koook]

are you making those gifs just from the yt shorts/ig reels of I AM STILL that they are posting? it doesn't even look like it bc the quality of the gifs is so good D:

If you want to talk about quality you've come to the right person! LAKSKSALKS everyone loves high quality files but sometimes I do crazy things for files that not even my friends can do. such as my paid weverse files. I always want the original quality and with screen record we don't have that, so I literally gave my email and password to someone on a forum so they can download my files from my weverse account in the original quality. this person just said "hi, I know how to download paid files from weverse using codes, do you want me to do it for you?" and I, who don't know this person, said "omg please, thank you so much for doing this for me". 😅😭 also download torrent files from suspicious websites. the list is long LKASKLAKSAS but I can give you some tips on how to always find good quality files, at least files that are free or easier to find.

try to join in exclusive forums like kpop24hrs or a harder like jpopsuki and avistaz. I had an account on jpopsuki, but maintaining an account there is very hard for me, I am someone who doesn't keep files saved on my laptop. there is a forum called "torrent invites" where some people go there and offer invitations or even exclusive forum accounts. I got a jpopsuki invitation account for a friend there. check torrent invites forum if you want an invitation to another forum! now youtube videos. to download youtube videos I use 4k video downloader. but before downloading the videos you can also try to change the format of the video to see if the quality changes too. sometimes videos in mkv format have better quality, so it's always good to check if the quality changes.

I always do that on bangtantv like bangtanbomb or the episodes videos which most of the time are always only uploaded on youtube. BUT we have some videos that are not only uploaded on yt but also on instagram and tiktok~~~~ and this is where we win heheheh~~ if a video is uploaded on these three platforms ALWAYS download it from tiktok. 99% of the time, videos on tiktok have a thousand times better quality than those on youtube and instagram. or you can also download the video on these three platforms so you can compare and see which quality is better, but I'm sure that tiktok's quality will always be the best. here's an amazing example, jin video that I giffed earlier.

first i only saw people sharing the instagram link but i went and searched if the instagram account also had a tiktok account and BAM they did 🥹 I downloaded the video from instagram and the quality was poor:

but when i download the tiktok video the quality was:

damn... this is sexy🫦

when instagram doesn't always make videos available in 1080p, most videos on tiktok are 1080p. just go and search "where to download instagram videos online" "where to download tiktok videos online" and open a website that does that and that's it.

another example, my tae and jeongguk recent gifset that you talk about here in this ask.

the quality of the video uploaded on youtube and instagram is very similar.

yt:

instagram:

but look how the quality is a thousand times better on tiktok:

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 so beautiful that I almost got emotional LAKSKASKASKA

my advice is to always look for other platforms they may have uploaded the files to! like for example jeongguk vogue photoshoot. many people thought that the videos were only uploaded on twitter and instagram but no, they were also uploaded on facebook! always look for accounts on facebook as well. but facebook is weird… from what I understand they won't upload all the quality at the same time so sometimes it takes a while for a video to be in 1080p there. another thing, sometimes they will also change the quality lol. for example, when I downloaded jeongguk photoshoot there the highest quality available was 2k but now it only has 1080p.

now:

😭😭😭😭😭😭

now torrent files~ I don't recommend the websites I download my files from because I'm not sure they are trustworthy but as I have a good program to protect my laptop so I feel safer lakskas. for torrent files I use eztvx, kpkuang, 1lou. "are you sure" files I had to search for jung kook or jimin to find the files on some of these websites.

and now free websites where we can download high quality bangtan files are namuspromised, sharemania, soowoozoooo and ouranxingg.

there are others but I feel like these are the ones who always share high quality files.

this was me trying to explain to you guys how to always find high quality files with my bad english LAKSKSKASK I just love helping people find good quality files ♡

EDIT: I forgot to talk about vimeo but @galatariel reminded me of them too ♡ many photoshoot are uploaded there with high quality so also check vimeo when a photoshoot comes out! I downloaded most of my recent tae photoshoot there~

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 10

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @dark-night-sky-99 @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae

Word count: 3,1k

Masterlist

Part 9~Part 11(coming soon)

"Carlos! Carlos! Carlos! Look! Look! Look!” Your excitement is uncontainable. There was a knock on the door early in the morning. You opened the door to a package in the hands of one of your security guards. With the name of one of the lesser-known clothing brands in Milan. You'd slept in the same bed as Carlos, and it’s brought you closer together. You jump on the bed, just barely missing his sleeping form, well, now no longer sleeping. 

He doesn't even groan at your excitement. Instead, he wakes up with a smile. "Goodmorning, mi dulce niña, what has got you so riled up before 7 in the morning?” He asks, picking you up by the waist and placing you in his lap. "I got a package, see?” He rubs his eyes, now really waking up. He takes the box from your hands and reads the letter that came with.  

"Dear, Y/N, we've seen your videos and would love for you to show off some of our best looks on the paddock. Gioia Bini.” He doesn't show much of a reaction, clearly though just a bluff, a wide grin covers his face. He grabs you and then pulls you close to him. His scruff tickles you as he places a thousand small kisses all over. Your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks.  

You can't help but laugh, joy coursing through you. "I'm so proud of you!” His words feel like adrenaline through your bones. You can feel your childhood hopes and dreams spark alive again. This is a moment you'll be saving forever. Like a wallpaper for your mind. Because while he gives you words of praise you feel nothing but pure joy.  

"Let me fit it, and you can help me chose when and which one.” The first one is that classic Ferrari read, never before have you realised how good you look in the colour. Or just how good it feels to see him look at you like that. As if you're worth a million, no, a billion dollars. The second one is a short, white dress.  

"Mmh, a difficult choice. You know I love you in red, but I can't wait to see you in white.” "What?” Did he really just say that? Marriage? Yes, you're crazy about him, but you've only known him a month. But he doesn't answer. At all. He brushes it off as if he never said it. As if he meant to keep it in his mind or say it in Spanish.  

He then checks his watch; he'd already gotten ready in his gym clothes. "We'll decide after the gym.” You smile and go to get ready for your everyday. "Okay, enjoy yourself,” yet before you could go change, he grabs you by the wrist. "Ah, ah, ah. You're joining me. Remember the deal?” The realisation hits you, he must be making a joke, he can't be serious.  

Yet, he was dead serious about the smoking. He was dead serious about the healthy eating; you could see your hips becoming a bit softer and your legs just a bit rounder. His fingers come up to your chin and close your mouth. "You'll catch flies, why is this bothering you so much?” You rip your wrist from his hand.  

"Fine.” You don't mean to sound so harsh, but you can feel the memories surfacing. You can't help but stare at yourself in the mirror. Does he not like your body? Does he want it different? Will he be taking your privilege if you don't go? You thought you were more to him? More than just a body. Is that why he won't touch you? He doesn't think your body is good enough yet? 

"You're killing me,” you're heaving heavily. Squeezing your sides from the stitches as you hang over the treadmill. All while your sugar daddy and your shared personal trainer is laughing at your reaction. "You! This is all your fault. I thought you-” the word love plays on your tongue. No, he can't possibly love you. If he does, there must be something wrong with him.  

"-cared for me! And now? Now you're trying to kill me.” You just barely peer over to him. He hasn't even broken a sweat and yet he's done 3 times more than you. "It's just a 10 minute run, Y/N. I understand you had that classic French diet, but we have to start somewhere.” Rupert explains, trying to encourage you.  

It doesn't help, you can feel your lungs burning. But Carlos knows. He knows what motivates you, he knows what pushes your buttons. He tells Bob to go fill out your water bottle again. Then he does the same as before, lifts your chin and then brings your ear close to his mouth. "Come on, show Daddy you'll be able to keep up with me.” He shoots you a wink and before you know it, Bob is back.  

Your cheeks are bright red, and you just hope and pray that the trainer will think it's from the exercise. "Alright, Rupert, peak health. As good as a high-performance athlete.” You send Carlos a wink, hoping that it has the same effect on him as it has on you. It doesn't he doesn't blush, not once, in fact his smirk grows wider.  

"Carlos did what?” You bite your lip at Alexandra's reaction. "He gave me his card and told me to go shop.” Kika lets out a laugh. "We heard you; we're just shocked.” You look at the both of them, their opinions matter a lot to you. You want what they have, what they are. You want to join them on their girls-trips and always enjoy the hospitalities with them on the paddock.  

"What? Does Pierre not do that?” You ask, feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights. "I wish." She scoffs taking a sip from her drink. "Neither does Charles. I mean, he does give me presents and naturally we go on vacation together, but rarely does he just give me his card.” She still looks a bit taken back. "His Black Amex at that too.” Kika interrupts.  

The realisation of just how different your relationship is hits you. You didn't think from the start that they're sugar babies, but you thought at least their boyfriends would treat them the same. Or at least, similarly. Even so, for the most part your behaviour seems more girlfriend than sugar baby. Should you be acting different?  

"And the car too! Kika, did you see her car?” Alex calls out, putting down her drink. "Car?” Portuguese girl asks after swallowing her bite. Alex squeals and then pulls out her phone. At the moment, you feel like an outsider. You feel like they're gossiping about you, even if you're right next to them. She then shows Kika your Instagram, and they both swoon. Has she been watching you? 

 "You follow me?” She chuckles and nods, "Of course, girl, I've been stalking you since Charles told me Carlos got a new girl.” You chuckle, this all feels so schoolgirl. As if you aren't surrounded by some of the riches people on earth. "So, he's had plenty of girlfriends then?” She thinks for a moment, before backtracking on her words. 

"I wouldn't call them girlfriends. They're more like flings than anything. But you... I think you're here to stay.” She takes your hands in her own. "Why do you say so.” Before she even starts speaking, she leers over her sunglasses to Brutis and Otis. "Because they've never been here before." You regret wearing the claw-clip now, because you're so ready to hide.  

Kika finishes her drink, "Yeah, do they follow you everywhere?” She asks while turning back and waving to them. No reaction on their part. You sigh, letting go of Alex's hands and hiding your face. "Ugh, yes, it's Carlos' only fault. His protectiveness." Alex laughs and then shrugs. "It makes sense, the fans can be more dangerous than you realise..." It feels like the same speech he gave you.

"Yeah, didn't you see all those videos at the concerts? People are throwing things these days..." Kika agrees with Alex. If three people think the same, maybe it is logical? You haven't told Ilsa or Jasmine about them, you already know how they'll overreact.  

"I guess he's just worried about me," both of the girls only hum, but like classic good friends they give each other a knowing look. "But they're not much fun, are they?" She reads you like a book, they've been such a drag. A looming figure you just can't get rid of. And you know other people are staring more at them than they are at you. After all, you're not even that famous. "Why don't we ditch them?" Alex asks, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I don't know, I don't want to stress Carlos out. With the practice and all, I don't want him to get hurt..."  

They both groan and boo at your hesitation. "He's not your dad, you don't have to do everything he says." Kika gives a sharp side eye, but she too has the playful aura. "Yeah, all three our boys are busy right now. We won't be bothering them. You can barely reach them when they're caught up in the media like this." She's right, so far you've just been sitting here eating lunch with them. After that, you have no idea. Carlos has so much to do and you honestly don't feel like getting in his hair. "Oh alright, how are we going to do this?"  

"Woohoo! Isn't this so much more fun than sitting around with those old men?" You can barely hear her over the sound of the radio. You're driving down the streets of Milan, again. This time an even bigger budget in mind with your new girl friends.

Even better so that those two boys aren't here to ruin the party, they'd been blowing up your phone and you've been gladly ignoring them. Gucci scarves, Prada heels, Hermés handbags, anything you could dream off. All the while the three of you go crazy on your Instagram. Showing everyone the life.  

"Oo girl, Carlos is going to attack you like some vicious animal when he sees you in that." Kika smirks as you all fit the lingerie on, after all the shopping and treats you all feel much closer together. You can only laugh, too ashamed to truly speak of all that is happening. Alex whines and places her head on your shoulder. "You really have the perfect guy." You can only laugh at her. "And what? Charles Leclerc is a deadbeat?"  

He's getting paid more than Carlos, he's more stable with Ferrari than Carlos and they've been longer together than the two of you. She laughs and admires herself in the changing room mirror. "I really like him, don't get me wrong. But he's not obsessed with me like Carlos is with you."

You blush and begin changing back into your clothes. "I wouldn't say he's obsessed with me." You both leave the changing room at the same time, conveniently with Kika outside still deep in your conversation.  

"Girl, have you seen the way he looks for you? All he does for you? What has it been? 6 Months? I would marry that man already if I were you. Just to make sure he doesn't get away." If you had a drink you would've spit it out. "Kika! It's a bit early, don't you think?" You're glad she shares your shock, otherwise you'd be certain that they're both crazy. "Not at all." You all three laugh at her, now you're really enjoying yourself.  

The ringtone rings, Sade's Smooth Operator plays due to the ringtone. "Speak of the devil." You say, holding up your phone after paying. You answer the phone while walking out the doors. "Where the fuck are you?" You can't help but let a laugh escape. He must be joking or something, you've never heard this time from him. He's never been aggressive towards you, ever. "This is not something to be fucking laughing about. Get back to the hotel, now."  

You fall back, behind the two girls, not wanting them to listen to the conversation. "Why? It's not even," you go to look at the time only to realise free practice has long since ended. Not to mention, it's almost 5. "Oh shit..." You mutter, not realising how long you've been out and about.

"Oh shit is right. Get back to the hotel. Now." His voice is much sterner than you've ever heard him be. Comparable to the rage you've seen in the videos, after he's been let down by his team, again. Have you let him down?  

You open the hotel door. All while taking off your heels and putting them to the side. "Carlos?" You call out, not seeing him lounging around, likely guessing that he's changing. In your mind, he's supposed to go to the gym right around now. The trainer has kept your sessions three times a week for now. However, walking further into the hotel room you see him on the balcony. In his workout clothes, his back faced to you with the setting sun of Italy in the background.  

"Carlos," he doesn't look to be as angry as he sounded on the phone. Then again, you've never really seen him angry. He turns to you, now you can truly gauge his emotions. "Where were you?" You go to answer him but he raises his hand. "More importantly why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" Anger, yes, it's prevalent, but more importantly you see fear. Utter frustration in his eyes, he looks like he's ran a  marathon. 

You shrug, inspecting your still un-pedicured toes. That was one of the many things you plan on doing with your mom next week when you visit. "I didn't want to bother you. You were busy with the media." He scoffs at your words, his dark hair moving with his dramatic reactions. He repeats your words in a mutter. "So you thought it would be better to scare the living shit out of me?" He does look truly terrified. His usually soft eyes are now hard like rock. Like the amber stones his eyes so resemble.  

"Do you know how it felt? I was in the middle of a drivers meeting. I thought someone took you from me!" You see tears form in his eyes. His backlash has a similar effect on you. You can feel the rock in your throat and the burning in your jaw. Yet still you don't dare say a word, after all you have nothing to say.

"Worse even, I thought you left me. I thought that they had said something that made you leave. That you realise you deserve much more than me." This makes you laugh, or maybe it's just to keep the sobs from escaping.  

But the laugh seems to pierce his heart. "You're laughing? I'm ready to burn the whole of Italy just to find you and you're laughing?" Now, now you see anger. Raging burning anger. Like it's been locked in a cage and now it's free and gulping up oxygen.

"No, Carlos. It's funny to me that you think I deserve better? You quite literally took me in from the streets. Fed me with Caviar, clothed me with Gucci and cared for me like a king his queen, expecting nothing in return. And yet still believe I deserve better?"  

Now it's his turn to laugh. You can see his fighting a battle in his mind. What to say and what not to say. "Can't you see? In five years I'll be washed up. Not a single Championship to my name and my money spent on stupidly expensive watches and cars that don't even hold one shopping bag. But you, you're immortal. Your beauty should be and I'm convinced will be remembered until every last mind withers from this earth.  Every single dime spent on you, is for the betterment of humanity."  

How on earth can you really mean so much to him? What is it about you? How can one glance from an alleyway have this man in tears in front of you. You can't control yourself, you just need to feel his arms around you.

You need to hold him and comfort him. Tell him you'll stay forever. How sorry you are and that it won't ever happen again. And he lets you. He lets the tears fall in the crook your neck. His grip tighter than you thought possible. To the point where it aches. But, that's what love is, right? It aches.  

He combs his fingers through your hair, whispering words that you'll never know what they mean. "Estoy obsesionado contigo. Si no puedo abrazarte por el resto de mi vida, entonces no tengo vida que esperar. Si no es en tus brazos donde muero, será en ese maldito coche de carreras, aunque tenga que asegurarme de ello."  

Taglist is open, just ask!

[ebbyhell]

So i been busy with work and personal stuff, so i have not yet UPDATED That Lucifer doc we shall not speak the name of, i did ask an friend of mine about this legally (Yes they work on Korea) and they said that text while appearing very straghtfored is actually very blurred due the context of PB actions.

First about sharing the previous story events since PB already shared the story with us for free before and then only after put in paywall an person who share they (in case if they paid) cannot be legally held acountable cause (there is no infrigiment of protection rights since the story was acessibale before to public and the person has purchase legalily), what PB CAN DO is try to report the account but CAN NOT SEND AN SUE INVOICE (if their legal team does that is will be very shaddy).

Second the Special pass characthers, they tend to be on an more hard line since their story acess is not free to the public yet (the fact the only manner of access is real money that plays an major in it) so they not acesseble to the public yet, so he recomend holding on that ones (the case would still very blurry in court so PB should be aware of that)

Third PB can sue IF THEY DO NOT MAKE ACESSABLE TO FREE POR GENERAL PLAYERS TO GET, So characthers that can be get with solomon keys, solomon seals even go into an blury line, the reason been this are stuff the normal players can get if they do montaly task so if they wish to sue they have to prove the player obtained in ilegal or monatary means (Very hard on court). So they probaly report the account and try to get shut down insted (not an very good look to an company even an small one).

Fourth with all that said even if they now inform of they terms of notice, they as an company need to be aware that

No charcthers stories that were posted before can abied to this due to the company not giving notice when they relase, so the company is held responsiable and not the buyer/individual (The company commited an careless action of informing their terms of service and can not sue the person due to their own neglict),

2. They can not simple go sending sue to everybody due to this especial cases that require an lawyer to look at (i know turns out the legal world is way more complex than just sending an sue), they also need to be aware in even an 99% chance of lawful stealing of their content they may only be able to sue 2% (even if they manage to prove everybody hacked to obten content they still have more laws to look at).

3. trying to sue someboy that shared an story of an card obtened by Solomons sels wil be very hard since the seals can be abtained by doing general taks and not only by buying, the rights of protections will also not help because even if they did not post on tehy public accounts the fact the person OBTNED ON THE OWN GAME IN N MANNER WERE THE PUBLIC CAN OBTAIN, makes so they did not commit an crime (unless the person share for profit or cause direct warm to PB sales what is very difficult to prove it, PB can not just show this annoucement as terms of service as an sue warrent deal, only as an warning there before can not sue only repport the account, welcome to copyright laws the laws more blurry than an fucking mist seriuous just google when was the last update).

With all been send the conclusion was CAN THEY SAY THEY WILL SUE? YES, BUT CAN THEY ACTUALLY DO IT? HARDLY, if you have doubt you see what happening to other companies that tried to do that with the copyrigt laws you see most of their sues end on settled or loss for the company (excet if you are shady Nintendo then is like very shady sue). They will probaly report the account and try to get they blocked (Shitty look if they do it but leagaly allowed).

What alll that been said i wait till the new King Event to see what they do. (got so see if gonna need to lawyer or to do something different to post the content).

Sorry if it was to much, English not my first language.

[bullet-prooflove]

Birthday Celebration Bingo: Wildflower - Crockett Marcel x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @99-reasons-to-live @legit9thlunaticwarrior @telepathay

The Fire Still Burns - Crockett still loves you despite the fact he walked away.

Fuck & Run - It takes Crockett a minute to realise something's going on.

Bad Influence - You tell Crockett he's a bad influence.

The night before your birthday Crockett leaves a little black box on the kitchen counter alongside an envelope with your name written on it.

You’ve made it clear you don’t want him to stay after he fucks you and he complies with your request.  The arrangement is slowly evolving along with your grief. You don’t just turn up at his place anymore, you summon him to yours too. It’s not just the occasional fuck it’s becoming more and more often. You’ve started to crave intimacy instead of pain.

When you find the gift, you realise it’s another example of just how much Crockett cares for you.

The card is a simple affair, he’s chosen one with your favourite colours and flowers. It’s that attention to detail that you remember from before the split. He paid attention to your likes, your dislikes, attuned himself to your needs, he was the perfect boyfriend until Jace got sick and then he left.

He regrets that, he had told you one night after he had ruined you, the fact his history with his daughter made him run when you needed him the most.  

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” He had said, watching as you pulled your jeans up your thighs.

“I understand it now.” You’d told him as you collected your shirt from the floor and tugged it on over your head. “Noone wants to go back to that place. It would have killed you.”

“Yea.” He’d said quietly, the sheets pooling around your hips. “It would have.”

You both know you’re talking literally.

“Dari.” You say as you tilt your head towards him. It’s a play on his real name Darioush, it’s something private just between the two of you and he knows in that moment that you’re coming back to him, little by little, piece by piece. “I don’t blame you for leaving. If this is about guilt then you’re absolved.”

“It’s not about guilt.” He’d told you, his hand reaching across the bed and capturing yours. “It’s about love, darlin, it always has been.”

He’d pulled you back into bed then, made love to you for the first time in an age. Everything since Jace’s death has been about fucking through the numbness but this, this is something else. This is you and him locked in a moment of love, of passion and intimacy. You fall asleep in his arms that night, curled up against him and it reminds him of the old days, back when he was thinking about marrying you.

When you open that little black box on the counter, you feel something for the first time in six months that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the love Crockett has for you.

It’s a silver locket, there’s a wildflower engraved on the front because that’s what he used to call you in Farsi before the split. Your thumb traces over it before you open the locket and your heart, it just breaks.

There’s a picture of Jace inside, his gap toothed smile and wild blond hair. It’s from that weekend at the cabin before you found out Jace was sick. Crockett had taught your nephew how to fish, how to make a fire, you’d spent the evening roasting marshmallows and looking at the stars, making up new names for the constellations.

The tears come then. You haven’t cried since the night Jace slipped away, not at the funeral or the memorial his school had thrown for him a couple of weeks later. All of that anguish, all that grief, you’d swallowed it down, let the numbness overtake you. It’s only now that it’s starting to hit you, Jace is gone and you have to face the world without him.

When you turn up at Crockett’s apartment that night he knows that something’s changed. Normally by now you’d be half way to the bedroom, a trail of clothing left in your wake instead you sit down on his couch, your palms pressed between your knees.

“Can we talk?” You ask, your voice a little broken.

His gaze comes to rest on the locket around your neck and he knows that you’re ready to take the next step.

“Yea sugar.” He says quietly as he sits down alongside you. “We can talk about anything you want.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[feministdragon]

This is a summary of Liberalism and the Death of Feminism, by Catharine A. MacKinnon, from the anthology The Sexual Liberals and the Attack on Feminism 1990 edited by Dorchen Leidholdt and Janice G. Raymond:

The women’s movement of the 70s criticized rape, war, as acts of male terrorism and criticized marriage and the family as acts of male control.  It criticized ‘sacred’ concepts from a standpoint of material existence.   

The women’s movement knew that if 99% of your options are not available, the last 1% is not real choice.

The women’s movement knew that ‘equality’ was defined according to a male standard.   It unmasked ‘sexual freedom’ as a cover for the freedom to abuse. 

This movement always wanted to know where the women were.  Where was women’s choice? Women’s consent?  Where was equality as women define it?  What did freedom for women mean?

The movement produced a systematic, relentless, materially based and rigorous critique of the male dominated reality of women’s lives.   The movement uncovered deep connections between race, class, and sexual oppression, and pursued them as essential to the movement.   It said every issue was a women’s issue, and every place was a woman’s place. 

The movement understood that sexual use and abuse is the same thing, turning a woman into a toy, or a corpse. 

Why did the movement do this?  Because women mattered.   When women were hurt, the movement defended them.  Because what was done to one woman was done to all women. 

It was a deeply collectivist movement. We said, ‘women’, ‘we’.  Commonality didn’t mean sameness.  We didn’t have to be all the same, in fact, the diversity was the strength.   

The movement understood the need to act with courage.  It understood that feminism was not a better deal or a riskless guarantee, but a discipline of hostile reality.   To say ‘the personal was political’ was to say that what we did every day matters, that you become what you do not resist. 

We felt and understood a responsibility to all women.  We insisted on women’s dignity.  Most of all, the movement believed in change.   It intended to transform language, community, the life of the spirit and body and mind, and the shape and nature of power. 

Then something happened. 

During the fight for the Equal Rights Amendment, we were told that we could have this constitutional amendment because sex equality under the law wasn’t really going to do very much, and wouldn’t change anything.  Feminists ardently denied that sex equality would make much difference while urgently seeking it. 

During the fight for Roe Vs. Wade, abortion got framed as a privacy right.  A movement that knew that ‘private’ was a cover for the abuse of our selves and rights was suddenly told that abortion was our right to that same privacy.  But since it was private, the government could not pay for it, so then if you couldn’t pay that was a you problem. 

During the fight of Sears v. EEOC, a sex discrimination case where men were paid more than women, one feminist testified that it was discrimination because women want to be paid for their work the same as a man. Another feminist testified that it wasn’t necessarily discrimination because women want different things from work than men. 

Then some feminist groups told us that guaranteeing maternity leave is a form of sex discrimination.   Fortunately the Supreme Court, in a decision written by a black man, understood that granting maternity leave by law is not sex discrimination.  

Then the debate over BDSM made it really clear that the movement had broken down. When feminists said that BDSM is the sexuality that women would choose first over all others, they didn’t question why women would choose the one sexuality that has been pushed on us all our lives, a sexuality of violence and control.   

The ‘we’ in the women’s movement had completely broken down. Women stopped saying ‘we’, instead saying, “speaking only for myself, I…”.

Then came the discussion on pornography.

Andrea Dworkin and Catharine MacKinnon designed a law that said that the sexual subordination of women through pictures and words violates women’s civil rights.   This was done as if women mattered, because we value women.  

To no one’s surprise, it was opposed by many people.  It was opposed by conservatives who discovered they disliked sex equality more than they disliked pornography.  It was opposed by liberals who discovered that they liked using women for sex more than they liked sex equality.  It was opposed by feminists who came together as the Feminist Anti-Censorship Task Force, or FACT. 

These FACT feminists said that pornography is sex equality, as long as women had better access to it.   They argued that women had not yet explored their sexuality and needed pornography to explore it, that even pornography that was problematic for women could still get them off, so it was okay.    For FACT, equality meant equal access to pornography.     

FACT implied that in a society of sex inequality—where sex is what women have to sell, sex is what we are, sex is what we are valued for—if we don’t choose sex then WE are the ones oppressing women. 

FACT was in fact fronting for male supremacy, getting women to do their dirty work (again). 

What is the difference between the women’s movement we had and the one we have now (if it even is a movement?)  The difference is liberalism.  

Where feminism was collective, liberalism is individualistic.  Where feminism is socially based and critical, liberalism is naturalistic, saying that women’s oppression is a natural facet of our sexuality.   Where feminism is based on material reality, liberalism is based in some ideal world in the head.   And where feminism is political, and deals with power and powerlessness, liberalism merely talks about ‘this is good’ ‘this is bad’. 

In liberal feminism, women are forced into being unique individuals, instead of sharing a social class in common.  Social characteristics are turned into natural characteristics.  Restriction of choices becomes an expression of free will.  Material reality is turned into ideas about reality.  And concrete positions of power and powerlessness are turned into ‘different but equally valid points of view’.   Women’s lived experience becomes a ‘point of view’. 

Law becomes about gender neutrality, consent, privacy, and speech.  If you can’t take gender into account, you can’t recognize the status quo of male supremacy and women’s subordination.   The concept of Consent means that whatever you were forced to do was actually your free will.  The concept of Privacy protects male abuse of women.  And the concept of Speech protects sexual violence against women when it is framed as male expression. 

The ERA has been lost.  Abortion has been lost.  And pornography is flourishing.   

Liberal feminism makes this necessary because it cannot look at sexuality as it is socially organized and see that it is based on sex inequality.  Liberal feminism will not recognize the continuing fact of male dominance. 

But we can get the women’s movement back.  We can discover the ways to change women’s fear, to mobilize ourselves, and against all odds, create a sex-based hope. 

[superm4ks]

not to get full parasocial in your inbox but it was so upsetting to me that in the first slip up max had in like 2.5 years!!! journos all over the world were ready to pile up on him like this? and some stuff that came out was really low, claiming he was "always like this", that "he never changed", even that one that argued that his father failed on raising max to be better than him, like? for how long they were holding on all this vitriol? this sucks so much

Baby .. walk wid me for a second.

This Max Verstappen we speak of. This is not some third rate meathead behind the wheel who found himself in a battle for the win and fumbled. Max has paid his dues. Hes done things in this sport that were seen as unthinkable. His fight wid Lando was aggressive, and on the limit, but first and foremost, it was racing. Theres only so much pundits can say until it becomes clear they are trying to punish a driver for racing because of who that driver is, not necessarily because of what happened in the race. I can assure u, and I'll hold ur hand when I say this, that 99% of the actual community knows Max did nothing but his job, the best way he knew how, and it wud be antithetical to the very heart of motorsport to try and punish him for hustling for position like he did. Max is respected for how he races. He's not tolerated, hes not indulged, he's respected. Drivers want to fight him, they want the challenge. Nobody will give them a harder time than Max in the car and thats something that awakes a part of their DNA as racers that shud be long asleep. He's a very well regarded technical driver, exactly because of of how he operates within the limits. I wish to God nobody had ever taught those bitches the words 'moving under braking' because I dont think even Ant Davidson knows what that means anymore and how its predicted in the sporting regulations. I can also tell u regardless of how upset Landito got, he knows exactly what it means to have gone toe to toe wid Max like that, he loved every second of it and he prolly wants to do it again. So I get it, the media climate has been frustrating, but honestly its such weak sauce and clearly personal that I cant even feel too bothered by it. At the end of the day , what is this even about? Its about Max going racing. Big bro went racing again. If anything I feel fortunate that he always will.

[lambsouvlaki]

The Crime Lord (AU)

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, suggestive banter.

Word Count: 1,520

Summary: In an AU where Jason never stopped his crime lord ways, his partner is threatened and they have to decide if they're ready to take the next step.

Masterlist

--------

She looked carefully through her blinds. The man in the street was still there, hanging around the sealed up entrance of an old video rental store. 

She noticed him about five minutes ago when doing a cursory check just before she started getting ready for bed. The gun in the pocket of his padded jacket was not well hidden, neither was the gang tattoo on his neck. She couldn’t make out the affiliation from this range. It could be nothing. There were a lot of nasty looking characters in Crime Alley.

He looked up at her window again. 

Too big a risk.

She texted Jason. He replied immediately. 

Muttering angrily she wrapped a coat over her pyjamas and shoved her boots onto her feet. She threw her laptop and a few vital personal effects into a bag. She switched the tv on, knowing the moving lights would shine on the thin curtains. Wait, her phone charger, needed that. 

A heavy knock on the door rang out while she was still reaching down behind her bedside table.  

She took a steadying breath, in and out. She peered through the spyhole. Two men in black armoured gear with no identifying symbols stood in the corridor. She didn’t recognise either of them. Jason’s message said to expect a Larry and a Gavin. 

She opened the door. 

“Ma’am,” the older of the two said, a heavyset man with a bald patch and black gloves. The other was a young and wiry sort with a patchy beard. Both looked like the sort of person who knew how to dispose of a body in five minutes or less. Neither really looked at her, which was promising.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“Gavin and Larry, ma’am,” the same man said without any detectable expression. Those definitely weren’t their real names but it served its purpose. “Come with us, please.”

She nodded, slung her bag over her shoulder, and followed them out. She locked the door behind her. 

The younger man held his hand out for the keys. Damnit, she’d liked this place. 

“There’s a very nice lasagna in the fridge. If you’re going to empty out the place anyway.” 

Gavin or possibly Larry’s lip quirked very briefly.

They led her out the back of the apartment building to the alley with its dumpsters and a bike missing both its wheels. The older guy walked in front of her and the other behind, all the way up to the tall chain link fence, which they helped her climb. A suitably forgettable old car waited for them on the other side. 

She really really hoped these were Jason’s guys. She was 99% sure they were, but there was always a moment of doubt before getting into a strange car to go to who knew where. They hadn’t checked her bag or taken her phone off her, which Black Mask’s goons always started with, followed by a blow to the back of the head. They could be from Little Italy of course, Falcone’s guys still held to notions of respect, when it suited them. Or they were paid off by the Bats. Probably not though. She wasn’t a pro but this wasn’t her first rodeo. 

They brought her to the docks, to one warehouse among hundreds. 

It was seemingly empty, with only its security lights on. She couldn’t see anyone around. Her escort walked her up to an office space on the second floor, while the other disappeared with the car. They stopped at a room with an electronic lock. She entered her own code, and the little light blinked green.

Alone, she entered a plain white room with no windows and some basic furniture. She would bet her entire meagre lift savings that Larry and/or Gavin was standing guard outside. 

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was how Jason showed his love, she knew that. All the things he couldn’t say were hidden in the effort he put into her safety. 

Then she shook herself out of her grousing, got her laptop out and sat down at the desk. There was a cot in the corner but she wasn’t getting any sleep now.

Hours later, when her eyes were starting to sting and she was eyeing up the cot with more interest, the door beeped.

The Red Hood walked in. 

She leaned back. He wore his helmet and his brown jacket hung open. There was a fine blood splatter over the plain grey armour beneath it, fresh enough to still be red. 

He sat opposite her at the desk, and slouched back with a sigh. His head rolled back on his neck. 

“How’s your night?” she asked. 

He grunted. 

“Hm,” she replied and typed another line of her email. 

“I want you to move in with me,” he said, voice rumbling through the modulator. She stopped typing. She closed the laptop. 

“Doesn’t that just make detection more dangerous? If they find me now it doesn’t compromise you.”

“It may as well,” he said, lifting his head to look at her. “I’m always going to come get you, and security is better at my place.”

She looked back at him thoughtfully. “We agreed it would cut into your work too much, and disrupt my life.” 

“You know you have to move again either way. For the second time this year.” He sighed heavily. “I’m already disrupting your life.”

She didn’t like the defeated tone sneaking in through the modulation. She had gotten very good at detecting the nuances that snuck through the voice changer over the last year. 

She got up and walked around the desk. She inclined her head in a way that asked if he had any injuries she needed to be aware of. He shook his head. She straddled his lap. His hands found her waist, snaking under her shirt and idly caressed the skin there. He didn’t even snort at the canary yellow pyjamas hiding under her coat, a sure sign he was worried. 

“And the disruption it would mean to your life?” she asked. 

“I can make it work. But you would have to be more careful. Much more careful.”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” She smiled sadly. “Even if I don’t move in, I can’t keep pretending I’m living a normal life anymore. 

“Don’t ask me to keep endangering you. If not this then…”

“Take the helmet off.”

He lifted it off and the terror who commanded half of Gotham’s undercity and petrified the other half disappeared like smoke. Only the man she loved more than she could articulate remained. He wasn’t in a domino mask tonight, and stormy green eyes looked up at her beseechingly. 

“This is the only way I can keep you safe while still being with you. Anything else is reckless.” He ducked his head. “Staying together is reckless enough already.”

She blinked through the hurt that lanced through her at that statement. He wasn’t even wrong, which made it worse. She knew they were playing with fire, and sooner or later someone would get burned. Today it wasn’t them. Tomorrow? The day after tomorrow? 

“I need an answer sweetheart.” He sounded preemptively heartbroken, but his face was hard. Braced for the final blow. 

“Can you tell me… do you want me to move in with you purely for safety reasons?”

He cocked his head.

“If nobody was trying to kill us,” she said, halting. “If you weren’t the most wanted man in Gotham, and we had the luxury of doing what we wanted purely because we wanted to… would you still ask me to move in with you?” 

He studied her for a long moment.

She swallowed and braced for the blow. She knew she wasn’t his first love. Gotham would forever have the larger claim on his heart. But she had to know if her claim on him was as serious as his claim on her.

“Yes. I would,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t you know I love you?”

She made a soft noise in her throat. She cupped his jaw and pressed her lips to his. He titled his mouth against hers, drinking deeply of her. 

Finally she pulled back to breathe, panting against his lips. He squeezed her thighs, bracketing his legs. His arousal pressed against her. 

“Is that your final answer?” he asked in a husky drawl.

“Yeah.” She leaned her forehead against his. “I’ll move in with you. I’m in love with you, you know.” 

He flashed an extremely self-satisfied grin. 

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, rubbing his hands up and down her thighs. “If I didn’t have Black Mask’s man who tracked you down waiting for me in a pool of his own blood, I would bend you over this table right now to celebrate.” 

She snorted. “Come home with all your limbs attached and your blood mostly still inside of you, and we can celebrate all day.”

He nipped her lips. “I’ll come get you when I’m done. Gonna take you home.” 

She kissed him again.

——-

Next chapter >>

[the-catboy-minyan]

So if all Hezbollah members, including civilians that never saw combat (and people who owned a pager but weren't members of Hezbollah), can be classified as terrorists and any innocent child that gets killed when you attack those members are at fault for being in "such close proximity to terrorists to get hurt" even though those bombs were activated when the members were just just doing normal daily task in public such as grocery shopping then can we apply this logic to the IOF?

Can we blame all non-combatant soldiers for the massacres done by other soldiers and can we target those soldiers when they're off-duty in shops, schools, hospitals and if an Israeli child got killed or injured then its their fault for being "in close proximity to terrorists" or does that logic not work because only Christians and Muslims can be terrorists?

Also calling people being disgusted by you for making jokes about this terrorist attack "hatemail" and a "Jews are baby killers" thing (when you're literally laughing and justifying killing children) is laughably pitiful, you get 1/10 for self-victimization.

Plz try harder to not shame your colony of self-victimizers, you can't let those dead children steal the attention from you.

bitch you know what Hezbollah is, right? you understand the concept of terrorist organisations, right? fym "civilian hezbollah members"??

also lmao IOF I see who I'm talking to here

the fact that you're literally projecting how the antizionist movement treats current and former IDF soldiers and using our own arguments against us, it's just hilarious to me. the IDF is an actual military force with branches and roles of people that will never have to hold a gun in their lives except for the mandatory first 5 week training period. my friend reached military age and she's literally about to go serve in a dog shelter, a regular fucking dog shelter, like a volunteer job but getting paid by the government for it.

again, I'm not talking to someone about "think of the innocent children who died from an attack that hit 99% terrorists" from a person who didn't confirm if they cared about civilian israeli lives. over 100k people displaced, >1400 people murdered and raped horrifically, or are we not human enough in your eyes to deserve compassion?

any civilian being harmed is horrible, but you literally can't make an attack on that scale while guaranteeing 0 collateral damage, I did not personally make jokes on that situation, only shared ones I found on reddit, and I would not cheer if the attack did significant collateral damage, and from reports it seems that other people got hurt only in extremely specific situations. you'd fucking cheer if it was done to the "IOF" even if it harmed more kids than soldiers, so don't give me a fucking lecture over my morals, there's a block button at the top right.

these type of jokes are so out of character for me anyways, this is not something I usually joke about, but I had a horrific day yesterday and yknow what I think it's funny to think about how terrorists lost their balls from pagers. the VAST MAJORITY of people sustained minor injuries from that attack, the vast majority of the terrorists who carried their pagers barely even got harmed, this is really the hill you wanna die on? that an attack that barely grazed people is evil because of circumstances outside the attackers' control?