#the people you're calling your harassers are the ones stopping me from turning this into a complete shit fest

[sysmedsaresexist]

These (completely unfounded) conspiracy theories are wild

[silassinclair]

Hi! It's me the "Maddox with a sassy y/n" annon. Omg i just saw your post and it made my Whole Week! 😭

Thank you so much!

Anyway, i have a new request (if that is alright). I saw that you have a yandere Boxer but i didn't see to much info on him.

Could we get an introduction or some information for him? I'm really curious.

As always, have great day/night! ✨

Sorry this took a while to answer, just came back from the Philippines and I saw this req in my inbox. I’ve been waiting to write for him so now I have the chance to!! Hope you like it :D Also the beginning of this is really long, boring, and angsty but bear with me ya'll :) Also the Russian is google translate so it may be inaccurate :(

Masterlist Here!!

Next Part Here!!

Yandere Boxer x Reader

Viktor Markov was not the man you thought he was; well, not anymore. You both were raised in a small eastern European town. Him being the boy next door; always covered in dirt and was the sweetest little boy who would bring you flowers and bugs that he found. And you were the weird little girl who would collect the rocks and flowers that he gifted you with a smile. So naturally the two of you became friends, two peas in a pod.

He always had your back and you always had his. Growing up together in eastern Europe was hard. Both of you came from a pretty rough neighborhood and home life but that didn't stop you two from being happy. After all you only needed each other. It was just you two against the world. And it was like that for years.

Well, that was until high school. Viktor stopped talking to you in Sophomore year. Your calls went ignored, socials un-interacted, and texts delivered. So you just gave up. You no longer chased after him or begged him to tell you what was wrong when all he did was give you a cold shoulder. And honestly, you just didn't want to be around him anymore.

He got in with a bad crowd. Some upperclassmen guys who would just skip class to smoke. And seeing your childhood best friend become one of them broke your heart. You tried, you really did. But instead the blonde snapped at you, telling you to stop acting like his Mother and that he didn't need you anymore. And he was right, Viktor was more grown up now. Hard jawline, firm muscles, and standing at a staggering 6'3 feet tall.

He didn't need your back anymore.

And you didn't need his.

High school was a blur. You kept to your studies and only had a small circle of friends that consisted of all girls who have all been friends longer than before you ever came around. You were the grass friend. They all walked on the sidewalk while you trailed behind to the side; always stepping in the mud and grass. They weren't really your friends, you just didn't want to be alone. And they didn't see you as a friend, they just didn't want you to be alone. Pitiful isn't it?

But none of it mattered. It was all over and done in the blink of an eye. After high school was university and in university was medical school and after medical school was a new beginning. Being a docotor was never really your dream. It was your parent's dream and they just wanted the best for their little girl. You didn't want to disapoint them and go to culinary school like what you really wanted. So you worked and went to med school at the same time.

It was hard. It really was. You have no friends, no social life, and no one has your back. Yet it's your job to have people's backs. Ironic and unfair. But that's life.

Money was getting tight. Paying off student loans and working multiple jobs was getting exhausting. Living? No, it felt like you were dying. But you got offered a job you could not refuse. A patient came into your office. It was an older man in his early 50s.

"You're quite quiet for a doctor." He says. "Shy thing are you?"

You give him a silent nod. Hopefully this conversation doesn't take the turn you don't want it to take. Getting harassed by patients as a woman doctor is scarily common.

"I need a doctor. One like you; diligent, quiet, and quite the eye candy. Work for me krasivyy (beautiful). The pay is better than working in this heap clinic."

You eye him oddlyand whisper, "Why do you need me? Do you want me to be one of those underworld doctors or something? If so then no. I won't be patching up assassins or serial killers."

The man laughs, his voice booming in the small examination room.

"No no. You won't be dealing with any of those type. But this still is underground as you say. I own an underground boxing ring. And I need a doctor to patch up my fighters. Illegal, but good pay no?

You thought about it for two minutes then finally gave your answer.

“When do I start?”

The man’s name is Radko. And right now you’re in his gym. It’s dark, stinky, and full of shirtless men training for their next match. You thought you felt out of place in school? Nope, this is 100x worse. And some of these guys are acting like they’ve never seen a woman before.

“Stop looking at me like that weirdo.” You think to yourself while walking past a guy on a bench who’s wiping the sweat off his chest. His hungry gaze on you sends shivers down your spine.

“Ignore their stares.” Radko puts a rough hand on your shoulder. “They’re not used to seeing pretty women.”

“Yeah I can see that.” You mutter.

You two stop in front of the door near the back of the gym. It says “Clinic” in front of the door. He opens the door and you’re greeted with a surprisingly clean office. Radko must have cleaned up a little when he knew you would be coming.

“This is where you’ll be. Some guys will walk in pretty roughed up. Just patch em up abd send them on their way. If any of em try anything with you, you tell me right away. Okay?”

Radko was like a Dad and you liked that about him. A pretty intimidating Dad who owns an illegal boxing ring but what does that matter. Doesn’t particularly make him a bad person.

“Okay. Thank you.” You say with a warm smile.

“Ah you’re so milyy (cute)! Please don’t quit within the first week, I don’t think my heart can handle it if you go.” Radko says and hugs you. You give the big man a pat on the back in return.

“I’ll leave you to it now. You’ll receive your pay bi-weekly. See you now.”

And with that you were left alone. You were left in a small private clinic you could call your own. Maybe this job wouldn’t be as bad as you thought? But all positive thoughts flew out the window when your first patient of the day walked in.

Tall, pale, short blonde hair, scarred torso, muscle on muscle, and piercing blue eyes. All features of someone whom you thought you would never see again. Who you never wanted to see again.

“Kroshechnyy?” (Tiny)

God that nick name. There was a time it would make you smile and laugh. But now it just pissed you off. He had the audacity to call you that as if you two were still buddy buddy? No, fuck that. Fuck him.

“It’s Y/n to you now. What do you want Viktor?”

The man’s face creased with pain. Not physical, no, something worse.

“What are you doing here? This place isn’t for you.” His voice was a deeper timbre from when you last spoke to him Sophomore year. He walks closer to you and you can smell his sweat from training but also… Jean Paul Gaultier? Why would you wear designer fragrance at a gym? Weirdo.

Little did you know when he saw you walk in the gym he immediately raced to the locker room to freshen up and see you.

“I’m a doctor. I got a side job from Radko.” You explain swiftly. “If you’re uninjured then please leave. Other patients may come in with actual reasons to see me.”

Rather than face to face you’re face to chest with him. How the hell did he get so tall? You crane your neck up to meet his eyes.

His expression stiffens. His usual cold demeanor returns.

“You shouldn’t be here. This place isn’t for you. It’s dangerous.”

You roll your eyes. “I think I can manage. Now please leave me alone. You’re the last person I ever want to see.”

Viktor ignores the comment and his gaze remains ice cold. You nearly shiver, did the room temperature drop?

“Stop acting childish. Tell Rad that you quit.”

“But I’m not quitting.”

He steps closer.

“I’ll make you.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

He bends down to your level and scoffs.

“I don’t need to lift a finger. You’ll get scared and run off with your tail between those little legs of yours. These men here will eat you alive.”

Did he not think you knew that before you signed up for all this? You were aware of what you walked into. Underground gym, surrounded by men, all physically fit to the max. They could rip you in half. But you needed this job. There wasn’t time to be afraid.

“Yeah yeah I know. I don’t need your lecture. Now get out before I tell Radko.”

Viktor leans closer. His nose mere centimeters from yours.

“Don’t come crying to me when you get hurt.”

“If I get hurt then I’ll just patch myself up. I didn’t go through 4 years of med school just to cry when I’m in pain.”

The tall Russian growls lowly to himself and leaves, not before slamming the door of course.

“Fuck…”

This new job of yours just got worse tenfold.

It’s been about two weeks since you started working here. And you’ve met all of Radko’s men. They weren’t as bad as you thought they would be. Yeah they would flirt with you but not in the gross way. They knew when to quit.

Well, all of them except for Vladimir. The same one who eyed you like a piece of meat the first day you came here. Everyday he would come to the clinic to shoot his shot. And everyday you turned him down.

“Little kotenok (kitten) is still feisty.” Vladimir clicks his tongue. He manspreads in the examination chair, flexing his ab muscles and turning his head to the side to show off his impressive jawline. But all it does is un-impress you.

“If you’re going to waste my time like this everyday then I’m going to tell Radko.” You firmly state and cross your arms.

Like a kicked puppy the boxer whines, “Nooooo. I’m sorry please don’t kick me out. This is the only room besides Coach’s that is air conditioned.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Not my problem, do an ice bath or something.”

Vladimir chuckles and goes to say something else but stops himself when he sees and hears the door open. You also turn your attention to the door, wondering who it is and why they didn’t knock.

“Get out.” Viktor says. His voice like stone, as is his glare. His bloody swollen eye only ads to his intimidating aura.

Vladimir gets out of the chair and groans. “Way to be a cockblock Vicky.” He says mockingly.

You were about to shoot in and say how there was no way you would give him the light of day but Viktor had other plans. His fist makes contact with Vladimir’s abdomen with a mean punch. Making the other man wheeze and keel over in pain.

“Get the fuck out.” Viktor grabs him by the hair and kicks him out of the office. Literally. The door then slams shut, leaving you alone with your heated childhood friend.

“Thanks…” You mutter. Unable to look into his eyes, well… eye. The other is swollen shut.

He grunts and sits on the examination bed. Getting into doctor mode you walk over to Viktor and assess the damage. There’s a few bruises on his ribs but his eyes seem to be the worst. Delicately you touch part of the bruised eye and he inwardly flinches, making you draw your hand back in an instant.

“What happened?” You softly ask.

“Alexei sucker punched me. Dick.”

You stifle a laugh, making your patient deadpan. “Typical Alexi. I’ll tell him off the next time he comes in here complaining about his stomach aches.”

Viktor and you are silent when you rub ointment on his bruises. After the ointment is all done you hand him an icepack.

“Use this for the eye.”

He nods and thanks you with a silent nod. Then, he leaves just like that.

After that you would see more of Viktor and less Vladimir. To be honest you’ve been seeing less of everyone. Everyday Viktor came in with new reasons to come to you. Headaches, head trauma, bruises, scratches, and the worst was a dislocation.

“What is it this time?” You don’t even need to face the door to know who it is.

“He needs help!”

You whip around immediately, nearly spilling your coffee. You see Alexi and Cain at the door and draped over their shoulders is an unconscious Vladimir. You run over to them and tell them to lay Vladimir down on the bed gently while you assess his condition.

“What happened!?” You say worriedly. He was barely breathing. You begin doing chest compressions.

“We found him outside. Some of those bastards from west gym probably did this to him…” Cain says, his eyes are full of rage.

The compressions aren’t working. So instead you ready up the life support. He won’t last long with traumatic brain injuries like this.

“What’s gonna happen to him Doc?” Alexi sounds the most worried. He’s just a kid, only being 17.

“I’m putting him under life support.” And it was damn hard to do it on your own.

“Thank you.” Cain says. He puts a hand on the small of Alexi’s back. “Let’s leave her alone. She’s busy.”

The two men leave. Leaving you alone with Vladimir who has one foot in hell. No offense Vladimir, but no way you’re going to heaven. All day you stay by Vladimir’s side. Other men come in to check on him or get patch ups. And you go about your job, leaving the unconscious man to rest on the bed.

If I knew she would be stuck to his side like glue then I never would have beaten the fucker half to death. The plan was to kill him but the stubborn bastard just didn’t want to die. I watch Y/n from outside the clinic. The window’s blinds are open. She’s so close yet so far; always out of my reach. Part of it is my fault. I was the one who pushed her away after all.

But I had no choice. I didn’t want her involved with the people I was involved with in high school. I needed them in order to get some side jobs. Hell, a couple of them box for Radko too at this gym. I thought Y/n would be gone from my life for good, but I was wrong. I thought God was punishing me for the things I have done but it seems like he took pity on me just this once by bringing her back to me and letting me have a second chance.

But so far I’m making no progress. What even is love? I know I love her but I don’t know how. All I know is that I need to protect her from all the wolves here. I already staked my claim on her but one fucker didn’t want to listen. Vladimir, that egotistical thorn in my side. The next chance I get I'll kill him for good. It's not like this is my first time killing for her after all.

High school was when I first took someone's life. Some upperclassman bitch was harassing Y/n. I couldn't stand watching her suffer. And I couldn't comfort her like before when we were young; by this time I already cut off Y/n for good. But I knew there was something I could do. So I killed her. And I killed anyone who dared breathe Y/n's name wrong.

I'll do whatever I can to protect the love of my life. Slowly, little by little, I'll win her back. She'll be mine again and we'll be even closer than friends. But for now I'll do what I can to keep her safe from the sidelines. Even if it means she'll find out and hate me forever.

[dmitriene]

cw: mentions of groping and attempts at harassment, reader stays her ground, simon falls in love and kind of a horny mutt, smut is not the main curse.

simon keeps his distance from relationships, he has enough problems of his own, he rarely stays in one place because of deployments, and very often risks his life.

until simon observes a situation in a bar that turns his world upside down, making him feel a prickly warmth in his lower stomach and a whirlwind of thoughts consisting only of the same words

— “she's gonna be mine„

it was so easy, you only had to go to the bar for the first time in a long time to unwind, only to get caught by an annoying, nasty guy who didn't want to stop trying to touch you and whisper nasty compliments to you like — “your tits looks so good in this shirt„ “wanna get out of here with me?„ “don't play hard to get„

until it all turned into screams and pig squeals, as soon as you poured the drink from your hands on his gross self, ruining not only his clothes, leaving them sticky, but also his image, attracting the attention of almost all the customers and also the bartender, a clever one who immediately called for help to get the man out before he did anything worse, not to mention his squeals about — “fucking bitch! that how you react to some attention?!„

it's really easy, responding with rudeness to rudeness and not tolerating humiliation just for the sake of saving face, not even yours, in public, instead keeping your nerve and addressing rude people in their own language, before wiping your hands with a napkin and going back to relaxing by ordering another drink.

and simon is not at all ashamed to admit to himself that the whole performance, carefully followed by his thawed chocolate eyes, not only made him aroused, which caused him to fidget in the seat, spreading his legs wider and squeezing the prominent bulge in his pants, tenting against the fabric of the black jeans —

but also allowed him to imagine how it would have been in different circumstances, yelling at him about completely different things — while being on top of him, riding his fat cock with rough rolls of your round hips and loud slaps of your plush ass against his relaxed, muscular thighs, the warm, gummy walls of your cunny clench around his meaty cock so good, making him go delirious with just one imagination how hot you would sound with his name and orders slipping past your soft, bitten from his hungry mouth, lips — “h — haa, yesyesyes, simon! stay just like that, s' good!„

it's all enough to make simon break out of his habitual image in which he tries to keep a low profile, he calls the waiter to ask him to extend your drink at his expense, and it's really more than enough for simon, because you don't hesitate to find his gaze among the numerous tables when you're told that another cocktail you didn't ask for is a compliment from another customer, and simon doesn't hide his communion either.

he catches your gaze back, feeling a thrilling shiver in his body, and raises his glass of bourbon to the thin line of pale lips that spread into a smile of their own, accord when he sees your biased squint, but even though his slightly intimidating balaclava and broad physique, you nod, thankfully, your lips moving in silent gratitude — “thank's, sir„

that was his green flag, to sit in the bar until you were about to leave, leaving the room and his line of sight, slipping out if only for a moment, because simon couldn't let you go home alone after all that, coming out after you and as gently as possible touching your shoulder to make you turn, your gaze falling onto his warm eyes before processing the hoarse words he said

— “le' me wolk you home, hm? nothing more, jus' a safe wolk, lovie?„

and will you refuse? after all, no matter how hard you try to think otherwise, something in his whole form inspires of unexpected safety, so maybe he's the one who will be your normal company tonight.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[lovezbrownies]

Alright, then I'd like to request Yandere Bully.

So, for info. The bully is a girl—let's call this maniac, Lauren—she's 18, and goes to school with her darling, who is the same age. She's blonde, rich, tall, popular, and athletic. She bullies her darling, but deep down she's obsessed with them.

Scenario: How does she react when darling finally snaps, punching her?

Punch me again. (Yan!Bully X GN!Reader.)

You're a genius anon.....

Masterlist.

Synopsis: Lauren's agonized you for years but what happens when her meek servant fights back?

Lauren McCanister x GN!Reader.

Warnings: Bullying, verbal abuse (?), physical harassment, sadism masochism combo, Lauren's horny at the end, lots of yelling, no use of y/n.

As far as you could tell, Lauren’s ‘hated’ you since she’s known you. She’s been tormenting you since middle school and it’s just been getting worse since junior year of high school. Today, like every other day, Lauren had pulled you into the nearest bathroom, pushing you until your back hit the wall, she would lean over you and verbally abuse you before pinching either your upper arm or your upper thigh, even going as far as biting you on your neck or shoulder when she’s frustrated. No matter how hard you fight back she would not budge, she overpowered you with her height and athleticism.

That was a part of your daily routine at this point. The worst part of it all is that she’s completely invaded your personal life. Your parents love her, she’s your stupid neighbor, she loves to visit you at your part-time job, and she’s somehow always in your classes. You’ve barely been able to keep it together lately, but you had to. You’ve only got 2 months of senior year before you can finally move out of your town and into whatever small dingy apartment that you can afford from your savings. 

The past few weeks were torturous for you. Every day, without fail, Lauren would corner you, verbally abuse you, spit on your face, and even scratch you with her medium-sized manicured nails. She just would not stop asking so many questions, becoming furious when you refused to answer, and what’s worse is she always knew when you were lying, and would punish you accordingly. 

You snap out of your thoughts, and a sultry voice laughs from above you, “You better say the truth this time, baby. When are you moving? And where the fuck are you moving to.” Lauren’s been harassing you more lately, all of that just to know where you’re going for university. You haven’t told her, you refuse to. If another year of your life is turned into hell by Lauren McCanister one more time you might just lose it.

You kept looking down, at the dirty bathroom floors. Her leg is in its usual spot, between your own, one of her arms help her lean against the wall while the other rests on your hip. On the other hand you kept all external organs to yourself. “Come on… Don’t you want to brag about how smart you are? How you got into some fuckass Ivory Uni? Don’t ya? You can tell me sweetheart… I’ll let everyone know how much of a nerd fucking loser you are.” Lauren’s hand kept rubbing your hip, sometimes lowering her hand down to pinch a bit of your thigh.

You didn’t want to. No, if you told her she’d follow after you, you don't know why she’s so set on making your life hell but you wanted none of it. “I… I’m going to Prince Holand…” You respond, as meek as possible. Just how Lauren likes it. Prince Holand University is not luxurious at all, it’s the community college closest to your town. The actual university you’re going to is on the other side of the country, Xelera’s People University. One of the most luxurious universities, and you managed to get a full-ride scholarship in XPU. Lauren was definitely your motivation to study so hard, not because she’s your cheerleader, but because you wanted to be as far away from her as possible.

Lauren knows. She knows you’re lying to her face, you’ve been lying this entire time. She’s been asking the same question for days now, and every single time without fail you lie to her. Lauren kept giving you chances to fortify your mistake, tell her the truth, and finally confess how much you love her. But time and time again you lied, you told the entire school the same thing too. But Lauren knows you’re going to XPU. Of course she does she had tapped into all your devices and watched you obsessively through the cameras she had installed in your home.

Lauren’s also been accepted, but mostly due to her mother’s influence as well as paying the school to accept her. She will go to the ends of the world to make sure no one ever likes you, and that you never end up with someone else other than her and that includes spending millions for a year’s tuition. It's not like it’d make a dent in her bank account. Lauren’s just as smart as her mother, who’s a world-renowned scientist who has studied many things, but her mother’s most influential project was “Asexual Reproduction of Sentient Beings through Magic.” A project that changed many lives and nearly doubled the population. That is exactly how Lauren was brought to life.

So far everything’s worked. Lauren’s completely isolated you from the rest of the town through baseless untrue rumours, then she completely invaded your life and spent most of her time with you. Lauren likes to bully you. She loves how you react to her harsh words and pinches, but often times takes it too far, much like she is about to today.

“You fucking liar! If you don’t tell the damn truth NOW! I will hunt down everyone you love and kill them. I will find out where you’re going and I will follow you. You… YOU UGRATEFUL ASSHOLE!! DON’T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I’VE DONE TO KEEP YOU TO MYSELF!?!” Lauren yelled out, punching her fist onto the wall next to your head. Shocked, you look up at the seething beast. Her eyes filled with rage, her nose scrunched up in disgust and her lips frowning. 

For the first time since she’s corned you today, your eyes met with her own. You can tell how they softened ever so slightly, looking at how fearful you look right now. But of course, her anger takes over her, why wouldn’t you tell her the truth! Lauren’s the only person you even speak to! You should be deeply in love with her! Much like she is with you…

Lauren suddenly grabs your shoulders, harshly shoving you to the wall causing your head to smack against it. She didn’t mean to. It’s like the smack to the head had awakened something in you because you somehow managed to push her toned body away, a hand touching the area where your head had collided with the wall, pulling it back you saw blood all over your hands. She’s so sorry.

Lauren shocked with the sudden show of strength locked eyes with you, you looked so angry yet so afraid. No, look at me with love please. She froze as you yelled, how strong your voice is, she never heard your voice like that before. She would love to hear you yell in pleasure. “What the fuck!? What the fuck is wrong with you, Lauren!?!” Say it again, say my name again. “What do you want from me?!? I was your loyal servant this entire time and never uttered a word!! I want to be left alone! Do you understand?” No, you don’t mean that.

You continue, all the pent-up frustration finally coming out. “I don’t know why you have this sick demented obsession with me but I want out! Everyone likes you but what they don’t know is that you’re worse than all the rumors you made up about me!” I don’t care about them, only you. “From now on, leave me out of whatever sadistic kink you’re into! I hate you and everything about you, you- you cunt!” And with all your might you fully punched her, albeit a weak punch due to your injury, but it was still a punch. Ohhh…

Lauren watched on as you stormed out of the bathroom, hand holding onto your head. You look so dizzy she should go and help you right? But… She can’t. After being punched by you she felt rather… aroused. Of course, you turn her on all the time but this time… All the yelling and degrading things you screamed at her made her feel different than usual, but then that punch. Lauren had never thought she’d be into it but she wanted to grab you, beg you to do it again, do it until you’re satisfied. Your satisfaction is her pleasure after all, and as it turns out her pleasure is degradation. 

A sick and twisted smile came upon her face. She wants you so badly. This little game of yours awakened the beast Lauren never knew she had. And she’ll show you how much you mean to her, she’ll still bully you– that’s a no-brainer– but she’ll send over many gifts, from flowers to sex toys, acting as if she’s a secret admirer. Please use those sex toys while she watches through the cameras, dear.

[the-froschamethyst4]

could u write smth about being out with Simon and a guy is hitting on reader?

Either watch the Hand or lose the Hand

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Ghost x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, hints of smut, harsh language, protective Ghost, creepy men, kissing, married couple, harassment, some perverted comments,

𖤐summary: Ghost and Y/n need to go to the store for a few things but when Y/n is on her own and Ghost is trying to find the other things on Y/n's list, but he comes back a creepy man is flirting with Y/n

————

————

"Come on baby! We have to go!" Ghost yells for his wife from the bottom of the stairs.

"Chill, I'm taking my time, the store isn't going to grow legs and leave." Y/n giggles at her husband.

"You never know, and I want to get there before all the weird people come out."

"What's considered weird to you Ghost?" She asked, getting her sandals on and grabbing her purse to complete her outfit. Ghost placed his hands on her waist of her sundress and kissed her temple.

"I'm talking about the weird so-called single mothers that always hit on me," Ghost says, opening the front door for Y/n.

---------

Ghost grabbed a cart pushing it as Y/n locked her arm with his as they looked down at the list. Y/n and Ghost had a family cook out they were going to this Saturday, but they were also out of a few things.

Y/n wanted to make a fruit salad, and some cookies and brownies as a sweet treat. Ghost pushed the cart as Y/n was going over the list on what she needs. Ghost takes the list from her and memorized the things she needed.

"Why don't I go the stuff to make your homemade brownies and cookies and you worry about the fruit, okay?"

"Are you sure? It's a lot of things, Si."

"I know, I know, I can do it, I know what you need," Ghost says.

"Okay, get everything."

"I will," he kissed her lips before going to the baking section leaving Y/n on her own. She had grabbed strawberries, blueberries, grapes, kiwis, raspberries and more.

"You should get bananas if you like fruit." Y/n stopped what she was doing and turned around, she knew it wasn't Ghost, but she felt uncomfortable with that sort of comment.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"If you like fruit, get some bananas."

"Are you suggesting that because I'm a woman and 'knows' how to handle a 'banana' or you are just saying that cause you think you're funny?"

"Honey, I know I'm funny, that's why I suggested it, you could handle my banana anytime," Y/n gave a disgusted look on her face and walked away. She hates bananas and for this type of reason as well, she doesn't even eat bananas around her own husband.

"Hey, now, I wanna keep talking."

"Well, I don't wanna talk to you," she says, walking away.

"Come on, now, I'm sorry about the comment...I like your dress...you single?"

"Married?" Y/n says.

"Oh damn, well, he doesn't have to know-"

"Actually he will," Ghost comes up past him placing the baked goods in her cart. "And yeah, that dress also looks better on the floor," he smirks, placing his arm on her waist and they walked away from the creepy guy.

----------

Ghost and Y/n were now in the frozen section and the same guy was in the aisle, maybe he will leave Y/n alone getting the hint that Ghost is her husband and to leave her alone.

The guy was looking in the freezers 'looking' for something.

"Which one, love?" Ghost asked.

"The chicken, get chicken," she says, leaning on the cart, Ghost opens the freezer turning his back to her. The creep then shines his phone under Y/n's skirt.

She didn't notice. Ghost turns back around and the creep had moved away from Y/n, but Ghost caught it. He places the frozen meat into the cart and marches to the guy.

"Simon?"

Ghost grabs the creeps wrist, he drops his phone on the ground and Ghost grabs it off the floor, the creeps is wallowing in pain and his knees landed on the floor. Ghost opened his photos and saw a few pictures of Y/n's underskirt and a short video as well.

"You takin' photos of my wife!?" Ghost was pissed, seeing red pissed. Y/n had pushed the cart next to Ghost, he shows her the photos and video. She gasps and takes the phone from Ghost seeing more underskirt photos of different women.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Y/n asked.

"I think you're really pretty."

"You are fucking disgusting," Ghost then starts dragging the creep. Ghost drags him to the front of the store knocking on a door labeled 'Security'

The door opens and Ghost basically tosses the guy inside the office.

"He's taking underskirt photos of women and he got my wife," Ghost says.

"We caught him doing it to another woman, we called the police, it's good to know the police won't go on a wild goose chase to get this guy."

Ghost heads back to his wife, she looks at him a bit worried.

"Is he gone?"

"They already called the police because they caught him doing it to other women, I just made their job easier by dragging his creepy ass up there," he says, he puts his hand on her waist and they went to go pay for their stuff.

----------

Ghost and Y/n were home, and Ghost was putting everything away in their certain spots. Ghost placed the chicken on the counter and was going to prep it for dinner tonight.

Y/n was cutting veggies, once Ghost was done, he moves over to Y/n placing his hand on her butt giving her a lovingly squeeze and kissing her temple.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"I've just never had anything like that happen to me before...not even when I was in High school with dumb jocks, no one has ever done that to me before...I don't know, how I feel," she says, leaning on Ghost.

"I understand," he says.

Ghost watches as she cuts the vegetables he grabs her hands taking the knife from her hands, he made her wrap her arms around his waist and hugged her, rubbing her back.

"Your hugs are the best," she says, snuggling her face into his chest.

"Only for you...you are quite literally the only person I hug because you deserve it," he says, kissing the top of her head.

Y/n looks up at him, her chin on his chest. His hand ran through her hair, and kissed her lips.

"For now on, to make you feel comfortable I can go to the store for you or I can come with you everywhere."

"I wouldn't mind that," she says, burying her face in his chest.

[is-the-fire-real]

Another bit on the pro-Pal fandom, this one axiomatic

Being a good person is not the same thing as pretending as though you believe you are a good person.

Being a good person takes work. You have to do stuff. Doing stuff is hard. Doing good stuff is harder, because you have to put thought into determining what you think is good beforehand. That requires self-reflection, honesty, a willingness to challenge oneself, and taking in information from other people to verify that your concept of "good" is, well, good.

The nice part is that once you evaluate what is good and start doing good things, it becomes easier. You gain inner calm, peace, and even joy.

("Good" is not always the same as "necessary". Necessary work can be a slog, or it can be horrific. But there can still be a calming satisfaction at the core, the security that this is necessary and therefore worthwhile.)

Pretending to believe you are a good person takes less immediate work. You don't have to do anything that positively impacts the real world, and you don't have to do any of that annoying, time-consuming self examination. But in the long run, it's more exhausting. By far.

You are insecure about whether or not you are a good person. You're pretending to believe you are good. You can't feel secure in something you pretend to believe. That insecurity gnaws at you, especially when you engage in bad behavior--harassment, doxxing, posting gore, swarming tags, encouraging and promoting suicide among your fellow "activists", telling your opponents to kill themselves, stalking, spamming unrelated content with literal Nazi propaganda.

None of those are good things good people do. And you understand that. You would think someone was bad if they did those things to you. The cognitive dissonance between who you want to be and who you really are, as determined by your actions, is scary. It's painful. It rears up every time someone you have labeled a Zio colonizer scumbag asks you to please just stop and you remember a time when you begged someone--an abuser, a troll online, a 4channer, your parents--to just stop please just leave me alone.

That must feel terrifying, and again, it makes you insecure. It makes you question if you're doing the right thing.

So you do the work to pretend to believe you are good. And that's far more work than goes into being good.

You recruit others, and all of you agree that you will pretend together. Tabletop gaming has taught us how powerful this imaginative play can be. You all reassure each other that you are good and you are right. But since you're all lying to each other, that means you must spend more, and more, and more time every day telling each other that you are good, chasing that high, that feeling that you are a good person and your actions are justified.

You tell each other that your "opponents" in this "battle" are not people, so anything you say or do to and about them is okay. You look at lists of "dehumanizing tactics" and instead of internalizing what those lists are teaching you, you go: "Ah, so if I don't use the word 'vermin', anything I say should be fine!" And then you say it.

You do not smile over good news. You only smile when one of your opponents logs off Tumblr because you made the site unusable and unsafe for them. (The expression you make there isn't really a smile, but we'll call it that, since the corners of your mouth do turn upward.) You tell yourself you're just attacking Zionists and pretend you do not see how you're really going after Jews.

No self-examination; that would mean admitting that you're lying to yourself and others. Instead, you traumatize and exhaust yourself until you're psychologically incapable of self-examination. You watch snuff films. You stare at mangled bodies until you're weeping and physically ill (certainly, you're too ill to check whether the video is real, or if it was taken from this conflict).

You force your beliefs into your fandom spaces so that others, the bad people, cannot escape their complicity in genocide.

But more importantly, you do that so you can't escape.

You cannot engage in any fandom but the pro-Pal fandom because that takes imaginative energy away from your biggest pretense--that you're a good person.

You are NOT hurting people because you are striking a blow for Palestinians. You are hurting people, including yourself, because you do not want to do the work of becoming a good person. You are afraid that self examination, at this point, will reveal to you that you are exactly the sort of person you believe you are fighting.

That fear, that insecurity, that dread, that restless sense that if you ever rest or stop or think for just a moment, you'll discover something awful? That's your conscience.

I do not ask you to change your mind about your political opponents. Your defenses are already on your lips and in your mind; a thousand How Dare Yous for me hinting that you look at other people as people. What I will ask you is to consider this.

I came to young adulthood just as Bush was elected, and the Iraq War post-9/11 was the first war I really followed as an adult. I did what you're doing now. I forced myself to look at photographs of destroyed bodies. I looked at photographs of torture perpetrated by US soldiers. I blogged about it obsessively.

I told myself that I was Doing My Part to end the war. But really, it's that the anxiety of being an American during the war made me insecure over whether or not I was responsible for all of this, and therefore, a bad person. If I pretended my looking at snuff photos was activism, and that it was good, then I could pretend to believe I was good and shout "Not in my name" at protests. I could deny my responsibility.

What I really did was traumatize myself. It's been almost twenty years. I can still see some of those torture pictures in my head. In the end, that is the extent of the impact of my online activism. The blogs are all long deleted, and nobody remembers them.

Only my trauma remains.

I do not want this for you. I want you to be wiser. There is still time. You can stop.

Stop hurting yourself and other people. Do the hard work. Examine yourself and your actions. Consider what your own heart is trying to tell you whenever you start to get the shakes and your throat gets tight. Do not take that feeling out on random people online because they have a Magen David in their pfp.

Once you have done the hard work, it gets easier. You will be able to advocate and work for whatever causes you believe in because you know they are good, not because you're joining your friends in cosplaying goodness. You will still be traumatized, and you will still be sad, and you'll definitely still get angry. You will have to face how you've acted exactly like your own past abusers, and that's a real tough row to hoe.

But at the end, you will be able to advocate and work because you want to, instead of feeling as though you must in order to keep up the masquerade.

[coochiequeens]

There's something satisfying about when an abusive man is called out by other men. Or at least one man.

Rest In Infamy, You Haunted Castle

Why I believe the Neil Gaiman accusations

By GRAHAM LINEHAN JUL 19, 2024

I only met Neil Gaiman once, at an upscale dinner party where Derren Brown had been hired to do magic tricks like in the old-timey days. Between astonishments, Gaiman and I withdrew to a quiet corner where I pretended to be pleased that he was giving me a signed copy of ‘Sandman’. One of the unexpected advantages of being cancelled is telling people who took part in my harassment what I really think about their work, but this was a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, so I said the right things and we went back to being bamboozled by Brown’s invisible craft.

To give credit where it’s due, I later read Gaiman’s ‘Coraline’ to my kids which had them simultaneously terrified and hooked, and thanked him for it. Whatever my feelings about his earlier work, he was a real writer, practising his own invisible craft. From the evidence of that book, I thought he was probably a decent person too, an impression that continued until 2022, when we started to get into it over The Issue.

I may have asked why he wasn’t speaking out on behalf of JK Rowling, who was undergoing one of her regular cancellations for refusing to pander to the spoilt brats who loved her books but missed their meaning. A big name like his might have shifted the conversation and given her some much-needed support. He might perhaps have persuaded some of his fans to give the matter another look. This was when I assumed people like him acknowledged biological reality but worried about ‘coming out of the closet’, as it were. It took me years to realise that almost every celebrity mate of mine believed, or was pretending to believe, in the fashionable, American mind-cancer of ’gender’.

But back then, I was still astonished to find that he was a carrier of the virus, the mass delusion that by sheer coincidence, turned up after the arrival of the Internet. Whether it was Bill Bailey or Neil Hannon, Robin Ince or Matt Lucas, Arthur Mathews or Jimmy Mulville, it was always the same story. A sudden cloud of amnesia would form around my celebrity mates, a real peasouper, from which they suddenly could not see why we need female-only spaces, or why unhappy teenage girls will not find a miraculous cure for their woes in a double mastectomy. Far from sharing any of my urgency in the need to stop children from being irreversibly harmed in gender clinics, they instead downplayed, deflected and dismissed. “I never ask you to join in with my animal activism” grumbled Neil Hannon on one of the occasions I begged for his support.

“Couldn’t you pretend women and children are animals?” I thought.

My usual trajectory during these conversations saw me shifting from gobsmacked disbelief to fury and despair. The disloyalty made me angry, but knowing my friends did not care about their own daughters, wives, sisters and mothers was, and continues to be, destabilising in the extreme.

Gaiman went one step further. I can’t find the tweet, so I may be paraphrasing, but he said

"I hope you're kinder if your daughter ever hopes to transition."

I can think of no uglier thing to say to a parent. For girls, ‘transition’ means double mastectomies in their teens, hysterectomies in their mid-twenties, early menopause and a four times greater chance of having a heart attack than males of the same age. To have this decaying goth wish that horror on my daughter was more than I could bear. I wanted to rip his throat out.

Like a pair of grappling cowboys falling off a rooftop, our fight spilled into email. I sent Gaiman this article about the Tavistock. It was clear when he wrote back that he hadn’t absorbed it Like most celebrities in this fight, he appeared to have lost the ability to read.

“As I said before Graham, I hope that you'd be kinder if it was one of your kids who wanted to transition. “

He actually said it again. The piece was right there, detailing exactly what was happening to the children unlucky enough to wander through the Tavistock’s doors, and he chose to repeat that disgusting thing. Why?

That same year, just months before Gaiman was advising me on the value of kindness, a 22-year-old woman (‘Scarlett’ in the podcast) arrived at his Waiheke Island home in New Zealand for a babysitting job. Upon her arrival, she discovered that Gaiman’s wife of the time, Amanda Palmer, had suddenly remembered a sleepover, an appointment the child was apparently eager to attend.

So she and junior drove out of view, leaving the 23 -year-old Scarlett alone with Gaiman for the night. Within a few hours the 61-year-old man, without warning or invitation, appeared fully naked and slipped into the other end of her bath. Scarlett alleges that over the next three weeks, they embarked on a semi-consensual relationship, where Gaiman routinely ignored the boundaries she set. She alleges that he became angry when she would refuse these demands, used a belt to beat her, insisted she call him ‘Master’ and once sexually assaulted her so violently that she lost consciousness.

“… (the sex) was so painful and so violent that I fainted. I passed out, lost consciousness, ringing in the ears, black vision, the pain was celestial, you know, which is a strange word to use, but I couldn't even describe it in language. And when I regained consciousness and I was on the ground, I looked up and he was watching the rehearsals from Scotland of whatever they were filming, I don't fucking know. And he didn't even notice that I was passed out. And you know…there was blood. It was so so, so traumatic, and I asked him to stop. I said it was too much.”

Scarlett is a compelling witness despite, or because of, her contradictions. Certain things paint a picture of consent—she sexted Gaiman, to which he would send careful replies—and she laughs nervously when she talks about the alleged abuse. But when Gaiman’s side of the story is put to her, she turns cold as a knife and shows flashes of fury that she—in her telling—young, inexperienced and dazzled by Palmer and Gaiman’s fame and lifestyle, was used so casually and so brutally.

A few years back, I wrote about becoming a sort of Jessica Fletcher figure on Twitter. ‘Murder, She Wrote” but with paedophiles and predators. “Just as murderers seemed drawn to any location Jessica presented herself, “ I said. “My opining about women's rights and safety on Twitter appeared to attract the kind of men who can't sit still during a spelling bee.”

Among my adversaries was Peter Bright, the Ars Technica writer now doing twelve years for trying to buy two children to abuse. Luckily the children didn’t exist and the parents were actually FBI agents. Our exchange was brief and concerned safeguarding. I’m sure you’re all astonished to discover that he was against it.

Then there was ex-Labour MP Eric Joyce, who argued with me about the safety of mixed-sex loos in schools and was done for possessing the worst kind of child abuse images. More recently, I tangled with ‘Lexi’, who is now serving time for rape.

They all had one thing in common. They couldn’t leave alone those of us who were actively opposing the trans movement's assault on safeguarding, an assault that chimed nicely with their plans for the future. Each was returning to the scene of a crime not yet committed, each picking at a scab on their own character.

In 2018, at the height of #MeToo, Gaiman tweeted “On a day like today it’s worth saying, I believe survivors. Men must not close their eyes and minds to what happens to women in this world. We must fight, alongside them, for them to be believed, at the ballot box, and with art, and by listening, and change this world for the better.”

Well said. I certainly believe the women in ‘Master’. During my Jessica Fletcher period (a period which continues) no-one except Gaiman ever mentioned my kids. I think he knew it would cause me distress, and the second time he said it was just a twisting of the knife. Many of my colleagues in the media joined in with the trashing of my reputation, but Gaiman went that extra mile. I believe this is because he is a sadist. I think he is a man who finds pleasure in the suffering of others, and a man who does not see women and girls as fully human.

This was my final letter to him.

Dear Neil

I notice you’re still pretending you can’t read the Tavistock story. If you ever try and lay that curse on my kids again I will certainly share our exchange. Your privileged beliefs are harming children so to paraphrase Will Smith, keep their names out of your fucking mouth.

Thank you for giving me one last chance to say that JK Rowling will be remembered as a hero and you as a traitor to the kids who loved your books.

Rest in infamy, you haunted castle.

All the best,

Graham.

[natriae]

cw// r@pe is insinuate but nothing actual happens , AFAB reader (gets called miss), let me know if i missed anything

[not proof read lol]

The part that stinks about dating a Colonel from a private task force is not knowing how long his deployments are. Sometimes He's only gone for a few weeks, but sometimes, like now, he's been gone for over a year.

No matter how much you hope and pray it get easier it doesn't. You spend every night hoping your loneliness will end, and your large teddy bear will be back, but no. They have him killing people right now. Why does he have to have to be so sweet? Spending all his time killing horrible people.

But what has made this time really bad...

A few months ago a new neighbor moved in across the hall. For about a month the two of you never crossed paths until he caught you in the grocery store.

"Miss, might I just say you look beautiful," a masculine voice states behind you. The sound shocks you out of your stupor of trying to decide which soup can is the best. Turning around there's a relatively tall man standing there with a case of beer by his side. His accent isn't common in wales so it was quite a surpise to hear it.

"thank you sir," you politely say before turning around back to the soups.

However, the man doesn't let up. "I don't mean to bother you, but I would love to take you on a date," he asks politely, but something about him sends the wrong feeling through your body. König always tells you to trust your gut, so you politely decline, but the man just doesn't let up.

"Sir, I have a boyfriend," You respond. Finally, this does the trick. He wishes you a good day and leave you to have your peace and quiet will the wall of soups.

Yet, things don't end there. Just your luck the man, who you learned is from London, is the new neighborhood who moved in across the hall. For the last five months you've dealt with this man sending you flowers, knocking on your door, and worst of all he somehow got your number. You quickly blocked him, but it nothing changed as he quickly noticed and found a new way to contact you.

Which brings us to today. The seasons have changed and the cold air of wales was enough to keep you inside, yet the man's knocking persists.

Opening the door you find a dark scowl on his face. One of his arms rests on the door frame while he leans the rest of his body on it. It's not hard to tell this man has something to say. His head cocks to the side and his eyebrows raise as if to say 'finally'.

"You know if you didn't want to go on a date with me you could have just said that," He starts.

"I did you jus-"

"No, I don't want to hear your excuses," He cuts you off. His whole body moves with exaggeration as if to tell you just how much this has been weighing on him. An attempt to make you feel bad. "I can't believe I thought you actually had a boyfriend," he scoffs, "but nope you're in here all alone...always. You know it would be so easy to just break in here and force myself-"

What the two of you don't notice is the large man quietly stalking his way down the hall. Your harasser is quickly stopped in his tracks when he feels a presence behind him. One that leaves hairs sticking up on his back. The man freezes. His demeanor quickly changing from cockiness to fear. Your heart warms at how your lovely guard dog leaves people's joints tensing just at the sight of him.

His rough austian accent growls out, "eine...zwei..", but the man knows better and quickly leaves. Running to his apartment and clicking his door locked. Leaving you to finally squish your gentle giant.

[liquidorcard]

Lily's Harley Quinn Show video is Garbage (and here's why)

We all know Lily's media hottakes are BAD. But, I feel like critics have mostly focused on her hottakes on media she hates. I've personally become more interested in what media she actually LIKES . . . Because her rational is often times even more nuts.

Well, this video made me mad enough that I'm gunna write a post about it now. Prepare your assholes for the death rattle of this DC fanboy losing his shit:

To be clear, I like this show, for some of the same reasons Lily does even. . . But that's not going to stop me from taking the piss.

(I encourage you all to watch the video in full beforehand so you can get the context of the quotes I'm pulling. Timestamps will be included though.

I just told people to watch your stupid video Lily-- can't cry copyright here.)

-0:19: TWENTY SECONDS IN, STEVEN UNIVERSE IS REFERENCED. GG LILLIAN.

-0:36: BITCHING ABOUT HOW VICTIMIZED SHE IS. 30 SECONDS IN.

-0:55: "I dare say it's the best thing to come out of the Batman franchise in a long time."

It seems like the last thing Lily watched/played/read in "the Batman franchise" was The Dark Knight. You dare boldly, Lily. Ironically I feel like she would at least like the Lego Batman movie, if not all the other good shit that's come out since 2011. Also, this is one of the first of many times she calls the entire fucking DC Universe "The Batman Franchise."

-1:00: "If you're watching this show for at all you're watching it for the romantic arc between Harley and Ivy. Don't lie."

I know this is a joke. I'm not an idiot, but. If you're familiar with Lily's general media consumption, you'll be well aware she watches shit a lot of the time for the ships and the ships ALONE. I feel like this really highlights how she views media in general in a way that's rather revealing. This video is two years old, and I wouldn't be surprised if Lily's opinion has soured a bit given the direction the show goes after this video was released. Put a pin in this comment. 📌

-1:15: "I mean it's a post-joker Harley Quinn show what else are they going to do.

Put a pin in that comment.📌

-2:00: Lily goes on to summarize the plot of the show . . . Completely ignoring all the plot beats that have nothing to do with the romance.

Put a pin in that one too.📌

-3:30: Lily indicates she identifies with Ivy.

Another pin.📌

-4:10: Lily starts talking about how near the end of the second season, Harley has now confessed her feelings to Ivy, but Ivy turns her down because she's going to get married to Kite Man (enjoy the insanity of that sentence if you haven't seen the show.)

Though I don't think she's nessesarily making any real poor points here yet, I want to point out that she really flattens the complexity of the emotions going on here. The problem is that Ivy and Harley's relationship has reached a level of intimacy where they really can't just go back to being friends. Ivy is happily in a relationship with Kite Man at this point, he's been a much more stable and reliable partner to Ivy. Though it's implied her feelings for Harley go a lot deeper. During Joker's confrontation of Harley, Lily frames it as a "go get 'er" pep talk like it's a fucking 80s rom com. He's trying more to get Harley to emotionally resolve things with her-- regardless of outcome. Ivy did say no once already. The audience expects she isn't going to say no a second time since that wouldn't be a narratively satisfying conclusion, but in the real world equivalent, she could have. The Joker wasn't telling Harley to harass Ivy until she gives in.

-5:16: Not really a mark against Lily's video persay, but in a season that aired after Lily made this video the prospect of Harley and Ivy breaking up is explored. Lily must have been seething, lol.

-5:28: "I love a good fluffy romance. I'm so fucking done with people's obsession with the nasty stuff [Flashes Catra and Adora on screen.]"

Honestly this comment has me wondering if Lily decided to check her phone or just skip through scenes where Harley and Ivy weren't being lovey-dovey. I don't know what fucking show she apparently watched (foreshadowing is a narrative tool wh--.)

-5:48: "Poison Ivy has always had the same problem a lot of female characters in DC comics have had in despite being an actual doctor they always just put her in a skin tight leotard [ . . . ] About the only notable exception to that was in The Batman [the 2005 show] where she was a teenager [classical Lily goonery inserted here.]"

Ignoring the goon comment, in isolation I don't have a grievance with this comment persay. As a generalization, it's more or less true about Ivy. She's unfortunately one of the lesser well-used characters in the various DC canons as a whole. However, Lily is going to start implying she's more familiar with DC in general, especially the comics, than she really is. I have strong reason to doubt Lily would know Ivy canonically has a doctorate in botanical sciences if this show didn't call so much attention to it. You'll see why in a moment.

Also the 2005 Batman show is far from the only iteration to reimagine Ivy as a teen. I like that show's take on Ivy too, but that's not a fucking unique spin on the character.

-6:57: "Clayface was always a random D-list monster like Carnage, but here he's reimagined as a struggling actor."

In a show that had the balls to feature Queen of Fables, she's calling Clayface a fucking "d-lister." Nevermind Carnage. But no Lily, Clayface has been a struggling actor since his first appearance in Detective Comics No.40. It's literally the first thing in his bio on his fucking wiki page.

-7:09: "There's one episode where [Clayface] assumes the identity of Stephanie to get into Riddler's college [ . . . ] Seriously I'm convinced he's been moonlighting as Stephanie a lot. The other girls on campus call her 'Steph.' She's been there for a while. This is Clayface's secret identity and you can't convince me otherwise."

LILY THAT'S NOT SUBTEXT THAT'S THE FUCKING JOKE. IT'S TEXT. IT'S CANON. YES. CLAYFACE HAS BEEN FUCKING AROUND ON RIDDLER'S CAMPUS THIS WHOLE TIME. CONFIRMED IN THE SHOW. LILY. LILLLYYYYYY.

Worth pointing out too, she'd totally call Clayface's Stephanie character transphobic if she hated the show.

-9:00: "The writers though 'okay, what do we use to fill our quota of the sad misguided villian this arc-- oh I know fucking BATMAN!'"

Lily what the fuck are you doing when you sit down to watch a show for your channel? Are you playing Candycrush the whole time? Are you screaming at Mikaila that often you miss like . . . Almost everything!? What are you doin' sweaty!?

Lilian, Bruce is not the primary antagonist of the 3rd season . . . IVY IS. Or really, Harley and Ivy's emotional dysfunction is the antagonist of basically this whole series, and it's Ivy's turn to be the main driver of conflict. The person destroying Gotham is Ivy. Not Batman, IVY.

Bruce and Selina's relationship is supposed to be a conceptual foil to Harley and Ivy's. Bruce is having an emotional breakdown the entire series has more or less been building up to.

-9:15: [In reference to Batman getting sent to prison] "I want him to get some nice and comfortable therapy."

. . . Lily is that what you think happens in prison?

-9:35: Lily is talking about the Joker's step-dad arc, and this is as good a time as any to stop for a sec to talk about how Lily doesn't seem to get what The Harley Show is doing with the characters.

The thing that makes the show an exceptionally brilliant take on the DC universe is that virtually all the characters (with some exceptions, that were tweaked for the better mostly) are actually faithful to their comic book/generally established characterization. To an impressive degree, down to even just minor details. You can tell the people who made this show are genuine fans of DC comics. Their personalities and character arcs are exaggerated for comedic effect, with specific interesting angles teased out to draw focus to them. Some elements of their personality are recontextualized to create a more engaging dynamic, but regardless. Even most of the plot elements are at least loose adaptations of storylines from the comic, or other DC media. It's really impressive how the show both works as a functional take on the DC universe by itself, and as a parody of it. Lily demonstrates she's totally oblivious to this multiple times in the video, but her section on the Joker best exemplifies this.

The Joker has taken over and/or become mayor of Gotham multiple times in the comics. Lily thinks for some god forsaken reason in the 70 something years Batman comics have been printed, nobody's thought of that. THEY HAVE. The gag with the second time Joker takes over Gotham IN THIS FUCKING SHOW ALONE is . . . He's actually a really good mayor. Gotham is a perpetual capitalist nightmare shithole of a city. The most insane, radical anarchist thing for The Joker to do is . . . Be a socialist who actually gives a shit about the small folk. That's the joke, Lily. That's the joke. That's the mother fucking JOKE. THE FUNNY HAHA, THERE IT IS LILY. I FUCKING EXPLAINED IT TO YOU.

And Lilian. The Joker being at his most normal and stable while he has a family. Is. A. Direct. Parody. Of. One. Of. The. Most. FAMOUS. BATMAN STORIES. EVER. WRITTEN.

SHE IS LITERALLY FUCKING SHOWING THE EPISODE WHERE THEY DIRECTLY VISUALLY REFERENCE THE KILLING JOKE ON SCREEN. LILY YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE ME A FUCKING HERNIA.

-10:10: Lily calls Sam Raimi a "douchebag."

Fuck right off.

-10:25: "It's a return to wacky hijinks that uses to define The Joker back when he was a gangster in funny makeup."

NO IT ISN'T LILY.

-11:00: Lily bitches about Harley Quinn for the 7 minutes in the remaining runtime.

Okay, the play-by-play is over, I'm going to address this section all at once because it will be quicker and more comprehensive if I do. This is the point where all the aformentioned pins come in.

Though I'm going to have to be ignoring some bullshit Lily says here in order to stay focused, I will mention first, Lily doesn't seem to realize Batfleck and Nolan's Batman were MASSIVE departures from the comics and don't pull much from the storylines. I don't think that's nessesarily a bad thing, even though I'm not the biggest fan of either of those interpretations, but for the record-- no. Those adaptations have almost nothing to do with Year one, The Dark Night Returns, The Killing Joke, or The Long Halloween outside of superficial elements. Lily just googled "famous Batman comics" and picked the four she probably vaguely heard of before. Again, she didn't even recognize the in-your-face impossible to miss Killing Joke parody episode she used as footage for this video. SHE'S JUST PRETENDING SHE'S READ COMICS SHE HASN'T.

Now to the point:

Lily's rational for not liking Harley's portrayal in the Harley Quinn show is honest to god brain damage. I'm not even sure how hard I need to go into explaining this because . . . It's pointing at the text itself and calling it a flaw. Harley's entire journey as a person is TRYING TO DISCOVER WHO SHE IS outside of the toxic codependency she had with the Joker. Her arc is both a meta commentary on the nature of the character conceptually and her journey to redefine herself. THIS ISN'T FUCKING SUBTLE. THIS IS STATED IN THE SHOW. Harley's identity crisis over whether or not she's even a villan anymore STARTS IN SEASON 3. Harley's lack of inhibition is what DRIVES THE PLOT IN SEASON 2. Harley's struggles to emancipat herself IS THE PLOT OF THE FIRST FUCKING EPISODE. This is also honestly the ONLY DC property I can think of that actually bothers to do something with the fact that Harley is a psychologist. Almost on that basis alone, it's one of the most refreshing takes on the character. That actually means something when I say it, because I've actually read a fucking comic in my life. LILY WHAT FUCKING DIMENSION DO YOU SLIP INTO ANY TIME YOU SIT DOWN TO WATCH A SHOW.

That question is rhetorical-- Lily tells on herself several times throughout this video. Remember those pins? Go read em again. Lily identifies with Ivy, so Lily decided Ivy is the "real" main character-- and wants Harley to be Ivy's loving kissy huggy gf. She genuinely thinks the show is actively making a mistake anytime her smut ship fanfic is interrupted. Lily wants porn. LILY YEARNS FOR THE PORN, ALWAYS. Every single fucking time.

She's decided Ivy has done nothing wrong to create tension in the relationship. She has deemed the character flaws Harley has that creates tension in the relationship a mistake in the writing.

Because Lily has not actually read a comic, but probably has seen Batman: The Animated Series-- she's missed all of the other references and spoofs in the show except for the ones involving Harley. That was the show she was originally created in.

Case-fucking-closed. Water is wet, the sky is blue, and Lily Orchard is talking out of her ass.

Kill my parents and call me the world's greatest detective, I guess.

[rowretro]

𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝.

✧IMAGES DO NOT BELONG TO ME✧

✧warnings:toxic/yandere themes, harassment, violence, stalking Blood,

✧synopsis: Serial killer Riki was a rich bratty son of an extremely rich CEO who got away with many murders. However, when his eyes set on her, his new drive was different, for he has fallen in love for the first time, and he wants it to last (I'll do more parts to this if uw<3)

Nishimura Riki would openly murder his victims in torturous manners, but no one would dare to ever take action on him. No one understood how such a handsome, quiet, talented boy ended up being a man almost everyone feared. Though people have started to notice, tiny changes in him. He started smiling...

A smile that rooted from a girl no one would ever believe Riki fell for. Yang Y/n. He notices how your high heels were between 5-7 inches, and yet you're so adorably short under him. He loved your different hairstyles, especially those space buns that match your smiley persona. Though you wasn't the smartest, you are extremely creative on paper, canvas, and on your face. He was observant of all the different makeup styles and glitters you used. Oh and that lip gloss stick. Pretty and perfect, making your lips look oh so kissable.

Riki never stopped killing though, heck he started killing more, there were more shades of blood than the pretty, red lipsticks you owned. How could he stop when so many boys always find a way to get your attention. Whether its slapping or groping you, as if you were just an object to them, or approaching you with flower bouquets. You found it suspicious how the boys who had something to do with you always drop dead the next day.

You spent a little extra time in school today as you had a detention. It was obvious. Mr Choi was definitely biased, he always called you out over stupid things and tries to get you in detention. Anyone could tell he wants you by the way his hands linger and How unprofessional he gets around you. This didn't go unnoticed by Riki either. As you stepped back into his class as you dropped your favourite red lipstick there, you gasped at the scene.

Red liquid splattered everywhere, a scene straight out of a violent horror film. So what if you lose one red lipstick? its better than losing your blood. "Oh princess... don't be scared" a voice called out from behind. You immediately turn around, your face hitting Riki's chest as you stumble back. Riki catches you, holding you tight against his body, a small bloody scar on the side of his face. "I had to teach that pedo a lesson for messing with my doll." he simply said.

"He won't be messing with you for a while hmm?" he chuckled as h forcefully pulled you into a loving, passionate kiss. It was both your and his first kiss, for him a dream come true but for you, a nightmare. He pulled away, his dark eyes staring into yours, seeing nothing but fear, your silence ticking him off. The man swiped blood off of his bleeding cut, and smeared it on your lips. "Hmm... red lipstick looks pretty on you baby..." he chuckled watching you wipe off the blood from your lips "my pretty baby." he darkly said.

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 17

Part 16

Eddie's chin was perched on Steve's shoulder, reading through the contents of the letter. There was a bunch of legal jargon that went over his head, but it was purely the fact that his parents sent it that document that spoke volumes about the kinds of people they were. Eddie also took to heart that fact Steve hardly ever mentioned them.

"And what exactly are they asking you to 'cease and desist'?" It was too early in the morning for such small print and lawyer-language. Eddie rubbed his eyes.

"Nothing they haven't said before. "I'm an embarrassment to them and they want me to stop."

Eddie hugged Steve from behind and kissed his shoulder. Then he kissed the back of his neck. As he did, he pulled the letter from his hand and then kissed his cheek.

"I'll let my people look over this, but there's no way they can order you to do anything. And if they keep bothering you, we can counter-sue for harassment."

Steve turned around in his arms and smiled. "You'd sue my parents for me?"

"Anything for my baby. I'd keep them wrapped up in court dates for years."

No one bothered his baby. Especially when he wasn't doing anything wrong. Just the idea of Eddie doing so made Steve swoon a little. This was exactly what he had dreamed of. Being scooped up from his humdrum life, filled with stress and anxiety and disappointment and being embraced by someone not just willing to love on him, but take care of him. Steve hadn't worried about a single bill since he and Eddie got together. The amount of times he'd pulled out his own money to pay could be counted on one hand.

"Hmm, I think we'll let them squirm a bit", Steve finally decided. "They don't get to stamp their feet after ignoring me for years."

And so, the letter was pretty much ignored in favor of other things going on. Steve didn't make any effort to be seen less in public. If anything, he was seen more, on the arm of someone from Corroded Coffin. Steve thought he'd be bothered by being photographed all the time. And while it was odd (he didn't know what the fuss was about him and Gareth looking at stationary) so far no one had caught him in any sort of compromising position.

He and Eddie had fucked in the backseat during a car wash and the most provocative picture the tabloids had was one of Eddie's nose buried in his neck, one squeezing his behind as they tried to do a quick makeout in an alley.

And any negative comments were not only drowned out by the positive ones, but they were also easy to ignore when he had a pack of men showering him with adoration.

One night, his parents called and while Steve would rather not been bothered with them, he felt like a shield was cast over him while he was cuddled up to Eddie on one side and the rest of his pack sitting around the living room. So this time, he answered.

"Hello mother."

"You think you're funny, don't you? You think this is all a joke? Have you even thought about us once? Honestly, every morning I wake up thinking there's going to be a picture of you with your pants down or you on your knees or some other-I just don't know where we went wrong with you Steven but this is truly unacceptable."

"What exactly is unacceptable about all of this? What do you actually know about it?"

Eddie muted the tv and gestured for Steve to put her on speaker so that they could all hear. Steve did and his mother's voice sounded around the room.

"We know you're running around with a bunch of musicians, doing god knows what, probably drugs and ruining our family name. Do you know how many times Irene Netting has had something to say about you? I swear the woman has no life but I can't refute the facts she's telling about you."

"You never bothered to get the facts from me", Steve said.

"Did you read the terms in our letter?"

"You mean the cease and desist order?"

"You are going to stop besmirching the Harrington name. By any means necessary. And if that means we have to drag you back home, well, thankfully there's an associate of your father's that's still interested. He's a beta, but beggars can't be choosers."

Steve could scent the way his pack felt about that and if that wasn't enough, the way they were glaring at his phone told the whole story. Eddie held his hand out for it and Steve gave it over, wondering what he'd say.

"Sorry to disappoint, but Steve is already home. And he's not leaving just so you can sell him off to someone twice his age."

"Who is this!? Steven Phillip Harrington, are you living with those animals?"

Steve refrained from making a comment about how beastly Eddie could be in bed. But decided now was as good a time as any to introduce them all. "Mother, this is Eddie, my alpha. Eddie, my dear mother."

Her sucking in a breath could be heard, clearly about to admonish her son again, when Jeff spoke up.

"You know, if it's just about messing up the 'Harrington name' all Steve needs to do is change it."

"Yeah, but to what?", Gareth asked, like the answer wasn't obvious.

It was clear to Steve and Eddie. It was clear the moment they locked eyes. Steve felt the need to bare his neck, to let Eddie claim that last part of himself and be joined forever. Abruptly, Eddie got up from the couch and got down on his knees in front of his love. Steve hung up the phone without ever taking his eyes off of his alpha.

"Stevie, baby, angel, muse of my soul", Eddie kissed his knee. "Would you do me the honor of taking my last name?"

Steve thought back to the night they first met, when he was certain he'd never have Eddie's attention for more than a night, if only for an hour. And now he was prostrated before him, offering his bite. Unable to help himself, Steve fell to his feet, wrapping his arms around his intended.

"Yes! Now. Give it to me now", Steve pleaded, leaning his head to the side to expose his neck.

Eddie hummed into his skin, kissing Steve's neck and even pressing his lips to that special spot in a tease before pulling back. Steve's pout was almost enough to make him do it right now. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

"You deserve a proper courtship, baby. And a proper mating." They may have skipped a few steps, but Eddie was determined to show his beloved how much he meant to him. "If you thought you were spoiled before..."

Steve kissed him and then kissed him again. He couldn't wait and wanted it now. But also the thought of being courted, like an old fashioned courting from back in the day. He also couldn't wait for that. And Eddie wasted no time.

The very next day, Eddie went in full force. Steve was met with courting gifts, Eddie got the approval of Robin, and even the rest of his home pack when they barged in on the video call with Robin.

"I'll withhold my full approval until we can meet in person, Mr. Munson. But for now, you have my permission to court him", Robin said.

When Robin was finally able to come down and meet him, Steve was excited to introduce her. What ended up happening was that he had two menaces on his hands. But that just meant that Robin saw him as an equal and thus perfect for her Steve. And so, two months after announcing his intention, Eddie took Steve on a nice night out. After shopping for an eye catching outfit, they went to a show, dinner, and then when they returned home, Eddie took them right to their bedroom.

By now, their den and nest had become one and Steve knew that he'd never have to take it apart unless an item needed to be washed or re-scented. Tonight, as Eddie lay him down Steve reveled in the scents there. More than one item was fresh. The boys must've scented their clothes while they were on their date.

"I can't believe we waited so long for this", Eddie said while kissing at his belly. "Wanted this since I first laid eyes on you."

"That long?", Steve breathed out, squirming a little as he felt that sinful tongue on his hips.

"Mmm", Eddie hummed against Steve's mound, taking his time, loving that they had time. "That long. I've wanted you to be my mate, bonded and pupped up that whole time."

Steve released a small moan as Eddie spread him and then blew on his cunt, watching it twitch with anticipation. Eddie didn't tease for long, wanting to build up before he sunk his teeth into Steve's neck. Only when Steve was putty in his hands, filled to the brim with his knot, crying out his name, did he finally take the plunge.

When they were catching their breaths, still tied up, and Eddie licking at the new bite, Steve tried to speak between his panting.

"Me...me too..."

"Hm?"

"I've wanted this, since the first night too", Steve finished. "Wanted you forever." He rocked against Eddie. "Wanted you and your pups. The others too now."

Eddie reached down to rub at Steve's clit, making his eyes roll at the sensation. If that's what his baby wanted, his baby would get it. There was enough seed to go around to keep Steve pupped up year round if he desired.

"All you gotta do is ask, sweetness. Fuck", Eddie bucked up into him, making Steve yelp. The thought of him, round with any of their pups was almost too much. For both of them.

It only took a few talks with the whole pack for Steve to stop taking his birth control. Steve was so excited to announce it that he hopped on the first dick that he saw, which was Gareth's. Eddie found them like that in the kitchen, Steve bent over a counter and he took his own turn when he found out what the celebration was for.

Three months later, Steve felt a series of symptoms that had him going to the doctor. And by the next visit it was confirmed: twins. While the doctor was giving him more information, Steve's thoughts were wrapped up in the hope that it was not just Eddie's, but Jeff's too. His body warmed at the memory of having taken both alpha's cocks.

Pictures began to surface of him and his new belly, tracking his progress and of course, speculating on which member of the band was the sire of his new pups. But as the gossip and rumors spread, they made sure it was clear they were reporting on Steve Munson.

End

And that's a wrap! I miiiight do an epilogue on what happens after but for now, that is the end :) thank all yall for reading and leaving such wonderful comments!

Here's that epilogue

Tag Team

@awkotaco24  @lingeringmirth  @littlewildflowerkitten  @estrellami-1  @tartarusknight 

@velocitytimes2  @mrsjellymunson  @trashcanniballecter  @paintsplatteredandimperfect  @a-little-unsteddie  

@sllooney   @starman-jpg   @oxidantdreamboat   @xxbottlecapx   @newtstabber  @tiny-enthusiast   @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper 

@y4r3luv  @hello-fellow-nerds   @anonymousbandgirl  @alyelf  @potato-of-the-lord  

@beckkthewreck   @croatoan-like-its-hot  @pluto-pepsi  @abstractnaturaldisaster  @ellietheasexylibrarian 

@eyesofshinigami  @dragonmama76  @greatwerewolfbeliever  @chaosgremlinmunson  @blackpanzy 

@millseyes-world  @batxsignalsx  @lilpomelito  @goosesister  @libraryofgage 

@aresthelostboy  @royjaimie4eva  @silenzioperso  @she-collects-smut  @lost-wondering-souls 

@eddielives1986  @marklee-blackmore

[spacelazarwolf]

Maybe i just need to vent.

I fucked up. Got called out. And wouldn't you know it, the callout has done nothing for me a trans man but isolate me, make anyone scared to speak up for me, and now i have fash chuds spoof calling my phone! No matter how bad it gets and what they are told about it by concerned parties in private these people won't even update their shit to say "we don't endorse harassment of this user, stop. " which tells me they just endorse harassment of me.

It's like it's just cool to harass an autistic trans man! It's like if you direct fashy chuds to the lowest common denominator, no one will acknowledge you're being as bad as those chuds.

Maybe people should stop unintentionally creating a police state online because they're used to it? IDK

imo "callout culture" is entirely antithetical to concepts like prison abolition and restorative justice, which a lot of people who perpetuate callout culture claim to support. i remember reading years ago about how "callout/cancel culture" was a concept that originated on black twitter to let other black people know about businesses and people that weren't safe for black people to go to or interact with. so it makes sense that, like intersectionality theory, it was co-opted and bastardized by white people and turned into a bludgeon against other marginalized people.

and like. this is something i've been talking to my irl friends about a lot lately. because what's the goal? what are you trying to achieve by making that callout post? what happened to prompt it? did someone prove a pattern of dangerous behavior, or did they just fuck up and now you have an excuse to put them on blast to feel morally superior? are you making this post so people are aware of someone with a pattern of dangerous behavior and can stay away, or are you making it knowing that it will prompt the people in your circle to go after that person and "punish" them? do you want that person to learn from their mistake(s) or do you want to brand them as a bigot forever? do you want the world to be a better place, or do you want to be angry at your (perceived) oppressors?

so yeah, if you're going to say acab and if you're going to say you believe in prison abolition and restorative justice, you cannot turn around and make a callout post for everyone on tumblr dot com you think has wronged you.

[nightlyrequiem]

Latrodectus

II. Fragmented

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

AO3

Latrodectus Mactans, otherwise known as the Black Widow, are known for their uncouth treatment of their partners. The 'widow' part of their name stemming from the common occurrence of the female devouring her partner after mating.

Tags/Warnings: Abduction, Violence, Emotional Manipulation, harassment, A Dabble of Psychological Torture, Drugging, Breaking And Entering, Fem!reader

================================================

Valeria learned to adapt, like any good animal. She mastered the art of mimicry, and her peers were none the wiser. She studied their faces and mannerisms and copied them to perfection. In hindsight it was pointless. Once puberty hit and she grew into her face and body nobody cared that there was something just a little off about her. Being pretty and physically developed meant she could get away with a lot more. No longer would she be shunned for her off putting ways. In fact, it just made her all the more desirable to her hormonal male peers. Their attention was wasted on Valeria, who spent most of her time chasing girls she found 'special.' Marie Sanchez turned out to be very unremarkable. Not as deity-like as Valeria thought she was. Then came Elle Minote, with her honey blonde hair and mousy round face. Her good looks rivaled Valeria's and she quickly swooped in to claim her. Crowning herself as Elle's best friend. 

Even before their friendship fell apart, Valeria's treatment of Elle was far from appropriate. She smothered her. Elle wasn't allowed to hang out with other people when Valeria was not pleasant. Elle wasn't allowed to have other friends. If she refused to stop hanging around them Valeria would throw guilt-tripping fits. Valeria would harshly criticize any boy Elle showed interest in. Making her feel foolish for even considering going out with him, why would Elle want a boy like that? She's far too pretty and likeable for someone about as interesting as a cheap handbag. Elle couldn't handle the overbearing weight of being Valeria's object of affection, though. She drifted away and found herself a boyfriend. Heartbroken and furious, Valeria vowed to ruin every relationship Elle ever got. It's not like she had any issues doing so. Boys are simple creatures after all.

You didn't eat the sandwich. Valeria stares at you with disappointment and you glower right back at her from the corner. Your skin is looking dull. Probably from the lack of nutrients and sunlight.

"Why are you being so difficult?" Valeria asks sharply. Why does she even bother with carefully handmaking your food if you're going to be so unappreciative?

"Why am I being so difficult?" You repeat. Voice hard with anger. "Gee, I don't know, maybe it's because you kidnapped me and locked me in a fucking cell!" Your hands grip your iron chain tightly.

"A cell?" Valeria scoffs incredulously. How dare you call this a cell. It's clean. You have a nice, soft bed with blankets. It's far more luxurious than any prisoner would get. She storms up to you and grabs your face. "You are so incredibly ungrateful." She whispers dangerously. Dilated eyes locked onto yours. 

You were an artist. In the background of one of your pictures, barely in frame, was a half-painted canvas. It took her a while of staring at the photo to realise you were painting a lamb. After some digging, she found out you did commissions. You didn't make a whole lot off of those though so to make ends meet you worked at a bar. Wasting your talents and life away serving up elaborate cocktails for ungracious patrons. Valeria became a regular. The bar was subpar and hardly worth the money she spent there but with you behind the chipping counter, illuminated by the sickly glow of the old hanging lights, she could spare a few pesos.

Her blood pressure would spike every time a male patron would flirt. She seethed even more whenever you'd giggle or smile at whatever stupid remark they'd make. You were only doing it to get tipped, Valeria knew that, but it still angered her to no level. No man was deserving of you. They would never be able to appreciate all your little intricacies. Not in the way a woman could. Not in the way she could. She had to walk out one night when you were laughing a little too hard at something one of your coworkers had said. She crouched in the alley behind the bar, stiff with hatred, fingers clutched in her hair. She hated him and she hated you.

Your nails bite into the skin of her wrist. Valeria shakes her arm harshly before grabbing your wrist and wrenching your hand away. Your nails scrape against her flesh as they're moved away. Leaving thin raised lines in their wake.

"I could show you what a cell really looks like." She growls. "I could leave you in a cold, dark, damp room. No bed, no toilet, maybe I should let you starve too." Valeria feels hurt that you are comparing your room to a cell. You're throwing her hospitality back into her face. She's doing her best with a shitty situation. She sees the fear coursing through you. The way your brows twitch down and the way your breathing hitches.

"Why are you doing this to me?" You ask. Your voice breaks, a warning that you're going to start crying. "... Is it sex you want?" Valeria releases your face. She has to take a step back to stop herself from slapping you. She already explained everything to you. Are you stupid?

"No." She snaps. Glaring at you. "I already told you why I'm doing this."

"You don't love me, don't stand there and try to convince me you do." You hiss. You press close to the wall.

Valeria is appalled by your words. She hates it when people try to claim to know what she feels. They could never begin to understand her feelings. Not even her parents could begin to understand it. The violent screaming and crying fits followed up by weeks of numbness. Valeria loves you so much that she didn't give up after you turned her down. She has so many plans for your life together. She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. Those plans won't ever come true if she kills you.

"I know this is scary and that you don't understand," She explains slowly. "but I am doing what's best for you." And, what's best for her. She can't function like she needs to when she's constantly on the verge of snapping. All because the woman she wants isn't hers.

You aren't receptive to her words at all. You put your face in your hands. Your body is so tense that she can see a slight quiver in your shoulder.

"Let me OUT!" You screech. You throw your back against the wall and scream. Hands sliding up your face and into your hair. "Let me go you fucking PSYCHO!" You claw at your own arms and hyperventilate. Valeria watches silently. She knows you'll scream your vocal cords raw for the next few hours then curl up in your bed, unmoving for the next few weeks. Your behavior is repetitive and resonates with Valeria in a way that nothing else ever could. She sees herself in your rage. In the intense anger you direct onto yourself. She turns and walks out of the room.

Your screeching stops being audible at the top of the stairs. She locks the basement door and walks into the living room and sits down on her expensive dark grey couch. Her back aches in protest. She didn't realise how sore it was until now. She leans back with a sigh. Silence rings loudly in her ears as she thinks. You've been here for a month now, yet you aren't warming up to her at all. Perhaps it's the lack of stimuli. Animals kept in captivity develop zoochosis when under stimulated. Her gaze shifts to the painting she hung above the mantel. The beady eyes of a lamb stare unfeelingly back at her. She taps her fingers on her knee. She commissioned that one from you. 

You're frustrated and need an outlet. Valeria understands that now. With you being so deprived of anything you enjoyed pre-capture you'll probably jump at the opportunity to do anything other than stare at the depressing stone walls of your room. Painting is a good way to relieve stress and it's also a good way to bond. The sun shines through the window. Warming the little lamb. Highlighting the delicate paint strokes. She imagines how you must've looked while painting it. An engrossed look on your face as you twist your wrist in a delicate arch to capture the soft woolly curls.

When she was in primary school, Valeria would eat alone at lunch. Kneeling in the itchy grass beneath a large tree. The grass would leave indents on her calves and thighs. She had to come up with ways to entertain herself. She would read, play with bugs, tear strips of bark from the tree that shaded her. For her twelfth birthday her mother bought her a small, coiled notebook. It was pink and had bees on it. The best part was that she didn't have to use it for school. She filled the lined pages with drawings. Some of her favourite memories are of her sketching away at lunch, tuning out the joyful noises of her classmates. She knows how good art can be for the soul.

She browses through the paint section at a small craft store and wonders if she should get you your own sketchbook. The thought is tempting, but she'd have to give you something to draw with and she's unsure if she wants to provide any potential weapons. The paintbrushes she's getting you is risky enough. Her eyes scan over the coloured tubes of acrylic. Each one fighting for her attention. The whole store smells faintly woody. It's a little disorienting. She grabs twelve colours. The basic ones as well as a few different shades. She grabs some canvases too and walks to the front to pay. The little old lady at the front gives her a judgmental look. Valeria doesn't break eye contact as she hands over the cash.

Back home, she sets down the art supplies on the dining room table. She spreads them out and inspects them. The paints, the canvases, the brushes. She can feel her own creative spark flaring up at the sight. She puts all of it back into their respective bags and carries them over to the basement. She sets them down by the door and continues further down the hall. She walks into her bedroom. The room is tidy and free of dust. The queen bed with its light pink sheets is made, the pillows arranged against the headboard with care and precision. The day is on the hotter end, and she's sweated through her shirt. Jeans and a black long sleave clearly weren't the way to go. She digs through her wardrobe and settles on a comfortable pair of black cotton shorts and a t-shirt made of a thinner material. She gives her reflection a quick check, admiring the tattoos visible on her arms. She quickly combs her fingers through her hair then walks back out.

She picks up the bags and walks down the stairs. She reaches your door and presses an ear against the wood. There's no screaming or crying. She unlocks your door and peers inside. The light is off, but your shape beneath the covers is slightly visible from the light behind her.  You don't so much as shift when Valeria steps inside and turns on the light. She spots a few red droplets over in the corner. She's worried for a second that you did something to yourself, so she sets down the bags and speeds over to you. She grabs the edge of your blanket and yanks it down. There are a few red scratches on your forearm already beginning to scab. She relaxes when she realises it's nothing serious. She will need to cut your nails though. 

Valeria looms over you as she softly calls your name. Trying to coax you into sitting up. Despite your eyes being closed she knows you aren't sleeping.

"Hey." She murmurs. Grabbing your shoulder and giving it a small shake. "I know you're awake. Come see what I got for you." For a few seconds you remain still. The prospect of receiving something intrigues you enough to open your eyes though. Valeria respectfully steps back and watches you sluggishly rise up. You focus your blank gaze on her and then to the bags behind her. Valeria turns and drags them towards you. Setting them beside the bed. She walks back and sits down on the ground. The cement in cool and pleasant against her bare skin. You lean over the edge of your mattress and look through the first bag. Fingers grasp the rough material of a canvas, and you pull it out.

Valeria stares at you intently. Trying to discern what you're feeling. She feels frustrated at the lack of reaction. You hold the blank canvas in your lap and simply stare at it. Valeria decides it's because you're picturing what you could paint. You set it down to the side and to Valeria's pleasure, continue to look through her gifts. You take your time looking at the other canvases and all of the paints. At the sight of the brushes, you seem to perk up. She bought you ten, wanting to give you a little variety. You hold the largest brush and turn it over. Inspecting it at every angle. You softly trail a finger down the wooden handle. Raising your head, you lock eyes with Valeria.

"I know you liked to paint." Valeria says calmly. You look cute like this. You're not baring your teeth in a gleeful grin but Valeria can still tell you're happy and for that she feels smug. A month without anything for entertainment means anything new will seem far more interesting than it normally would.

You look back down at the paintbrush and Valeria takes the opportunity to approach. She shuffles over and rests an elbow on your bed. You look back at her and she gazes at you. Feeling awed by the sight of you. She has you within her grasp.

"I did." You murmur. Eyes glazing over as you retreat into your head. "I was - am - good at painting." You tell her. 

"I'll go get a cup of water; we can paint something now if you want." She says. Hoping you can't hear the satisfaction in her voice. You nod. Features soft for the first time since she took you. Valeria smiles and gets up, leaving your room. She doesn't bother locking the door. She won't be long.

Valeria hurries back down to you. Spilling some of the water on the stairs in her haste. You're sat on the floor with your paints spread out around you. Valeria realises that she forgot a palette. You don't seem to care though. You're hunched over a canvas. Dipping one of the brushes into a small splotch of green you just squirted onto the cement floor. Valeria feels the need to grab a rag and wipe it off, but she can't do it when you're finally starting to warm up to her. Valeria sits down across from you and places down the water cup between you two. Eight brushes sit off to the side and Valeria grabs one and a canvas. Starting her own painting.

Her eyes periodically shift back up to you. You're so focused that you don't take notice. Valeria is glad. She doesn't normally feel embarrassed but there's something vulnerable about painting the woman she loves. She does her best to mix colours to perfection. She remembers the detail and texture you created for the lamb painting. She tries to imitate it. To give your skin and hair life.

"Hey... Valeria?" You speak. She looks up again and stares. "... I need your opinion on something, could you come here and look at this?" Valeria sets down her canvas and moves towards you. Twisting awkwardly to look at your painting. It's a beautiful, lush landscape. She can see the brushes in her peripheral. She can hear your slightly fast breathing.

"I was wondering if I should add a cabin." She glances at the brushes again. Seven lined up side by side. She furrows her brows.  

"Um... Yeah a cabin would look nice." There should be eight.

The first time Valeria was ever stabbed was during an offence mission. She was cornered by an enemy. The feeling of his steel blade passing through the flesh and tendons of her hand didn't hurt as much as she imagined it would. It didn't hurt much at all. It just felt cold. Maybe because of the adrenaline rushing through her at the time. The rattling of your chain is the only warning she gets before the jagged edges of broken paintbrush pierce through her arm. You were quick but Valeria was quicker. Had she not blocked your attack you would've stabbed her in the side of the neck. 

The wood drags against her skin, leaving slivers as you pull it out to stab at her again. Valeria roughly grabs your arm and wrestles you into submission. You struggle and cry. Writhing beneath her. She squeezes your wrist until you're forced to let go of the paintbrush. Red runs down her arm. Dotting your painting with little red puddles. Valeria's movements are fluid and smooth as she wraps her hands around your throat. You wheeze and feebly try to fight back but Valeria only tightens her grip. Valeria feels betrayed and hurt. You attacked her, after she tried to do something nice for you, you attacked her. You start going still when she suddenly releases your throat. She glares down at you as you pant and cough. Her heart is hammering. Valeria needs to leave before she kills you. She aggressively grabs the paintbrushes and storms out of the basement. Locking the door behind her. She's given you too many chances. You're starting to run out.

[kr9vorebeazt]

DISCLAIMER!!: PLEASE DO NOT HARASS, SENDING DEATH THREATS, BULLY, AND ATTACK THE PERSON THAT I CALLED OUT. IT'S BETTER FOR YOU TO ALWAYS STAY MATURE FOR WHAT'S HAPPENING IN THIS FANDOM

Hello everyone, well, I can't believe I must make a callout thread about this. I actually don't want to make it because I don't wanna cause any dramas, but I must made this to make everyone in this fandom aware and do the right action for what's happening in this fandom.

Read more:

CHRONOLOGY:

So at yesterday, when I opened and scrolled tumblr, I found a post from @marshalllir talking about a DL fan who commented negatively about one of @hostik 's post. And I immediately recognized that person. It's one of my follower that I follow

The post:

Well, Let's talk about this

CLARIFY:

About her commented negatively in some Haiden posts, this is not the first time I see her commented like that, I remembered when she's commented on one of @deadfileinthecabinet 's post(as I remember) about Haiden aswell. I ever told her to stop commenting like that and let people enjoy what they like and if she doesn't like it/hate it, just do not interact with them, especially put a negative comment. As time goes by, I thought she was already changed but after I see this post, I feel so dissapointed. All time I've been putting my faith to her expecting her to change turns out like that? Well, because of this, I think it's my time to expose her NOT so good side.

THE NOT SO GOOD SIDE(TW!: MENTIONS ABOUT P*DOPHILIA/GROOMING):

So, as the name suggests, She's definetly a Frank Marwey big fan. She loves to make and post about Frank, even make her own Monster!Frank AU that I was interested to. Did you know that she has 2 Twitter/X account? One of her account is a NSFW account.

Now, before we talk about the NSFW part, let me say this. She ships Frank x Lawan and Frank x Aiden(I think now she ships her DL oc with Frank now, But I personally know that she still ship these ships)

Problem? Yes, Frank x Lawan has a BIG problem in it. In DL2 canon lore, Lawan met Frank when she was young and views him as her dad figure. Shiping her with Frank is sounds problematic and might be considered as p*dophilia. Their age gap are TOO BIG even they're both are adults plus, Frank is Lawan's father figure and Frank is old enough to be her dad.

How about Frank x Aiden problem? Same, their age gap is TOO BIG to be considered as a couple

But Aiden x Hakon- Their age gap is tolerable, plus their relationship isn't Father and Son alike duo so it's safe.

Ok back to her shipping problem and the ACTUAL problem that I wanted to talk about, not just the problem of her shipping taste, but also she ever made a NSFW art of them. Do I have a problem? Yes, she ever post a NSFW of Frank x Lawan.

Unfortunately, the posts about that I mentioned are deleted. Maybe because there's someone who called her out before I did back then. Yet she still ships them.

"But, it's my AU! It never be canon" I know it's an AU but that doesn't mean you can cover up your problematic stuff that you did easily. Do we can easily believe you after saying that? No right? We are not fools.

MESSAGES TO HER:

I'm sorry if I did bring back your past mistakes to you, but this is the warning that I could do to you even I did the wrong thing. Something has kicking me out to expose your past actions to public again. I'm truly very sorry about it.

But, that doesn't mean I can easily forgiving you. Since this is a warning post to you, All I want to tell is that YOU MUST make an apology post. DO NOT PUT THE BLAME/PLAYING VICTIM TO ANYONE OR ME A.K.A. YOU MUST BE RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL YOUR ACTIONS EVEN THOSE ARE JUST THE PAST

I'm glad that you finally realized your mistake about you posting NSFW arts of your ship yet you still ship them. I need you to stop what you're doing. If you want to ship Frank with someone, make an OC x Canon ship by yourself, is that hard to do for you? Atleast, it's better than you still shipping the problematic ships and post it online.

Mark my words, if you dislike something, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THE THING THAT YOU DISLIKE EVEN YOU JUST PUT NEGATIVE COMMENTS OF IT AND LET PEOPLE DOING WHAT THEY LIKE. The Algorithm will thought you like it and keep giving you more post about something that you don't like

CONCLUSION:

In this case, yes, she's indeed problematic. Yet we must give her a chance to change herself into a better person. I believe that soon she realizes her mistakes and trying her best to change into a better person. We must stay mature of what's happening in this fandom problem.

If you're reading this, I give you a second chance to be a better person. Do it, I'm still have a faith into you so you can be a good person that everyone knows.

I don't blame and mad at you. I'm just giving you and people in the fandom a warning.

May God forgives our sins

CLOSING:

Thank you so much for reading this. And also to those people that I tagged, I'm sorry for the random sudden tag.

I'll see ya soon, have a great day/night

Edit: If I got any mistakes, please you can correct me. Thank you :3

[dolcid]

Cute Little Ferret Boy ▪︎ Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry's Twin Sister! Slytherin!Reader

Summary: When Draco is turned into a Ferret, his S/O is there to help him out.

Warnings: established relationship, tad bit of violence if you count Moody turning Draco into a ferret violence lol, canon divergence, bullying maybe? nothing else??? Idk, lmk if I'm missing anything

A/N: was inspired by this post lol

~

Sitting at a bench in the courtyard of Hogwarts, you were finishing up your charms homework. Draco was there too, sitting in a tree for merlin knows what. He always made sure he had an eye on you somehow. He'd never be too far away, as he wanted to be sure no one was messing with you. Since you were the twin of the famous Harry Potter, a lot of the students at hogwarts loved to tease you for it. Draco had been one of them too at a point in time, but once he realized you two had more in common than anyone he's ever met at the school, he fell in love. Apologizing for his actions, Draco was simply whipped by you. Now he was the one defending you from those teases, even from your brother and his friends. Harry may have been your twin, but that didn't mean you got along. Ever since you came to Hogwarts all the attention was on him, and he enjoyed it. Never once sparing you a glance. His ego was certainly fueled by the fact that he had friends, got good grades, was in Gryffindor, and wasn't affected by all the trauma you both shared. You were happy he wasn't affected by it like you were, but also envious of his ability to overcome it so easily. It wasn't that easy for you, which is why you were here now. In Slytherin, had no friends, struggled with all classes and was merely the "Girl Who Cried" most people didn't even bother to learn your name, only knowing you as Potter's twin sister. It was dreadful really. But Draco made up for the lack of normalcy you wanted. Needed. You'd pray that Harry would see you as a person someday too.

Shaking your head, you attempt to bring your thoughts back to the charms homework you were struggling with. But it was to no avail, you couldn't focus with so many students bristling about. And to make it worse, your brother and his friends just walked in. You visibly tense, not going unnoticed by Draco, who swiftly drops from the tree he was perched in and made his way over to you, not before motioning to his friends to watch your brother. He knew how you felt about Harry. How he never stood up for you like a sibling should. Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, Draco smiles down at you gently.

"How's the homework coming along?" He asks, voice soft and friendly, a voice only you heard. You smiled up at him, sighing and placing your quill down.

"Could be better," you grovel, blowing a stray hair out of your face. Draco smirks, teasingly.

"I told you, you could ask me for help darling," he says, swiftly sliding into the seat beside you. You groan.

"I know, I just wanted to try on my own first." Draco rubs your lower back encouragedly.

"I'm proud of you for trying,"

As Draco places a gentle kiss to your temple, rustling is heard coming your way. You both look up to see Harry, looking awfully mad.

"Can I help you Potter?" Draco asked, his hand finding yours. You tensed once more, hating the feeling of Harry's eyes on you.

"Yeah, you can stay away from my sister!"

Oh boy you thought. Harry always made sure to harass Draco when he was with you, always putting on a show for the other mindless students that watched. He didn't care truly, you could tell by his eyes. He only wanted to provoke Draco, hoping he would do something stupid and get detention, or worse. Expelled.

You breathe in sharply, staring down at your homework as Draco rolls eyes pale eyes.

"Oh now you care?" Draco sighs audibly.

"We've been over this Potter, you can't make me stop seeing your sister. You're lucky to even call yourself her brother," Draco argued, his hand squeezing yours gently. Harry visibly grew angrier, causing both you and Draco to stand off the bench. This wasn't good...

Draco protectively pulled you against him, sneering at Harry as he got closer.

"Stay back if you know what's good for you, Potter." Draco threatened. Harry merely chuckled.

"If I did what was good for me, my sister would be out of the picture. She's merely a bother, a nobody," Harry spoke, a smirk present on his face.

The next few moments seemed to have stilled, as if somebody had casted a time slowing charm. Draco pulled out his wand, Harry following suit. You panicked and attempted to stop Draco, but before you could, a spell flew at Draco, seemingly turning him into the small white blonde ferret now on the ground beside you.

Suddenly professor Moody emerged from a corridor, his wand aimed at your boyfriend.

"Stop!" You tried to reason, but your wails were thrown to deaf ears. Harry smiled mischievously as Moody started to toss the ferret around in the air, nearly shoving him down his friends pants before you intervened.

"I said Stop!" You shouted, grabbing the ferret and the attention of everyone around you. You panicked again however, quickly turning on your heels and running into the castle, the ferret still in your arms. You made it to the slytherin common room before you attempted to catch your breath, hoping you were far away enough that no one had followed you. Your attention was soon turned to the small ferret in your arms, or more so your boyfriend. You sighed gently and held him close, apologizing to him softly. The ferret squeaked and seemingly understood you, his nose nuzzling into your cheek. You smiled and brushed your hand threw his hair.

"Let's hope this spell wears off soon hm?" You spoke, giggling as the ferret tickled your neck.

Entering the common room, you immediately went to Draco's dorm, as it was where you two would spend most of your time together. Mostly to keep out of the public's eye. It was basically your room at this point too, you slept there, kept clothes there, did homework there, etc. It was bigger than your actual dorm too so that was a plus.

Sitting on your shared bed, you set the ferret down gently, watching as he looked at you curiously. You hesitantly pull out your wand, looking it over before turning to him.

"I don't know if I can help you, I don't want to hurt you," the ferret squeaked, running into your lap.

"Is that a no?" You laughed.

"Maybe we should just wait it out, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something bad happened to you." You spoke, shuddering at the thought. Staring at him fondly, you began to pet him again, finally being able to get a good look at him.

"I must say, you are awfully cute for a ferret," you tease, the ferret merely sighing in response. You giggle and continue to pet him, laying back onto the bed and lying him beside you, on your pillow.

"Why don't we just sleep it off? That'll certainly make it wear off sooner," the ferret seemed to agree, curling up on himself and nustling into your neck.

"I agree." You laugh, taking off your circular glasses and setting them on the dresser nearby.

"I love you Draco, have sweet little ferret dreams," you tease one last time, placing a soft kiss to his head.

When you awoke, it was dark out and the room was cold. You shivered, attempting to curl in on yourself but stopped when you felt a hand on your waist. Remembering the events from earlier, you rubbed the crust from your eyes and turned around, seeing a mop of blonde hair, and his familiar black and green robes. You breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful to see the spell had warn off. Even though Draco was still asleep, you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him, relieved to have his safe, warm, comforting presence back. He woke and automatically hugged back, as if his body knew what to do. He then stilled, flexing his hands. He opened his eyes and inspected himself, sighing in relief as well. Before you could say anything however, Draco had his lips on yours, scrambling any sort of thought you had. He pulled back and rested his forehead to yours.

"That's for saving me. Thank you darling,"

He kissed you once more, his hand pulling you by the waist, closer to him.

"You saved me too, thank you Draco. I love you."

A/N: soooooo what do you think? Lol. I always have a hard time writing x readers for some reason, but I actually had fun this time. Lmao. Reblogs appreciated, and please, let me know your thoughts! <3

[pseudowho]

Hi!! Thanks for the advice. From the way your ask was worded it seems like you've experienced this before too and I'm sorry. Here's an update.

So last night after I sent you the ask I decided to email my professor and ask him if I could get a new lab partner, and he basically said "Well, what did you expect? You're the only girl in a lab full of horny young men. What do you want me to do?"

As that was completely useless, I just complained about it to my boyfriend then got ready and went to my 8 am lab with this guy. As I was walking in, I read your response and decided I was over it.

Today my hair was down when I walked in (I was going to put it up as soon as I put my stuff down) and before I could put it up he came up behind me and grabbed all my hair, gathering it into a ponytail "offering" to do it for me. I loudly told him to stop touching my hair as it was making me uncomfortable and surprisingly he stopped for the rest of the lab.

But when it was over I got my stuff and left and I noticed he was following me. I guess for context there's a few things you should know about me. One, I was born and raised in the city of Chicago, and spent my childhood wandering around the city with friends or my parents and walking my dog by myself.

So needless to say, I have taken self-defense classes and am capable of fighting. I was also pretty scrappy and not afraid to trade blows a lot when I was younger so I do have more experience in fist fights than I probably should. On top of that, I may not be a particularly large or intimidating woman (I'm 5'4" on a good day, and weigh in at around 120-125 pounds. I think that's around 55 kgs and 162 cm). However, I was/have been a gymnast my entire life so I've always been made of pretty much pure muscle.

Okay, back to what happened basically I noticed he was following me, so I turned around and confronted him, asking what he wanted. He started yelling at me about how I made a big deal out of everything and that I had no right to embarrass him like that in front of our peers. When I got annoyed and turned to walk away he grabbed my arm.

While I wish I had reacted a little better, a mixture of my bad temper (I don't get mad easily but I do get mad it's not pretty) and some of my own personal trauma I reacted without thinking and broke his nose.

So yeah. He said he was going to press charges but I told him if he did I would press charges against him for sexual harassment so I'm pretty sure this is resolved and he won't bother me again (hopefully).

As someone who has broken their nose multiple times (a variety of gymnastics related incidents) I hope he gets racoon eyes and his face throbs like a little bitch for a couple of weeks.

Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that things worked out, and that I'm really grateful for your advice and words of encouragement! I'm sorry your baby was sick and hope they feel better! I've never heard of Darkest Dungeon. What's it about??

Fucking hell, you bloody legend.

He deserves it. This was a predictable escalation of events, and I'm glad we called it. Well done on the exceptional hit.

I would be careful, though. If it is at all possible, make sure you have your location shared with your boyfriend on your phone, let him know when you're walking alone. If possible, make plans to immediately call someone the whole time you're walking alone, he is less likely to attack you if he knows someone is a lovely listening for you. Make sure you send messages to people with this guy's full name, and notation within that he's sexually harassing you and that events have escalated, as this creates an evidence trail.

Make sure you do not have uncovered drinks. Walk with your keys held between your fingers. Remember, in the case of a fight, you can use the inner blade of your thumb to scratch that unnecessary top layer off the surface of his corneas. Instep, groin, eyes, bite, scratch.

I only say this, because being punched on the nose isn't suddenly going to make this man respect you. In a lot of ways, it's going to make him angrier. While I'm happy you fought back, I'm also aware that he is likely stronger than you if it really came down to a fight.

Refer your teacher's email to the correct department at your University. I suspect you're in a STEM course, contextually, and sexual harassment of women and minorities in STEM is absolutely rampant. Your teacher cannot be allowed to get away with that.

Continue making noise. Get louder, and louder, and louder if you need to. If you keep escalating it up and nobody listens, I'm sure the local press will be very interested. Make sure more than one person knows at all points.

Fight the good fight, kiddo.

EDIT: don't worry about me, I'm okay. Darkest Dungeon is a rogue like horror game, where you take a crew of ragtag bandits, plague doctors, highwaymen, crusaders, bounty hunters etc etc. to a dungeon filled with eldritch horrors, and try to clear it out. It's so cool, and harrowing, and I love it.

Proud of you!

Love,

-- Haitch, who would love to make him wish he'd never been born xxx