#the worst thing is that the job was actually p good and the pay was decent

[silent-lily]

Got laid off by my current job. Suddenly and only with "staff cuts" as an explanation. Didn't work there even a full year.

Cool. Now I have to go job hunting a-fucking-gain, awesome.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader

CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!

series masterlist. read on ao3.

Life was hard. That was a fact.

Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.

Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.

And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.

No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;

Getting Murdered

Getting Attacked

Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?

…Yeah. Something like that.

The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.

You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.

This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.

With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.

The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?

Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.

The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.

You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.

There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.

The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.

It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.

You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.

Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.

…Jesus christ.

“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.

You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.

The woman snaps her gum.

You stand there.

She blows it again.

You continue to stand there.

Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”

Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?

“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”

You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.

Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.

Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder. 

“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”

You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.

A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening. 

Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.

Charlie: get milk otw home used it all

No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.

When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.

It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.

“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.

“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”

You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.

“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”

That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.

As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in. 

It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.

It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.

“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”

You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.

“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”

You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.

“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”

You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”

She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”

Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.

Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.

Fucking christ.

Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.

“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet. 

She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.

You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”

With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.

It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side. 

…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.

Ambers. High-risk.

With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. 

You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.

Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.

Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read. 

Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely. 

Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.

The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.

If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.

You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.

There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.

He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.

“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.

He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.

Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”

The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.

…Huh. Alright.

You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.

His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline. 

“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.

He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”

Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.

“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”

His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”

You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”

He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.

Small victories.

“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”

You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.

“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.

Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”

You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.

“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”

There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”

Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.

“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.

“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”

Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”

That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process. 

“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.

His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”

Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure. 

You swallow around a dry mouth.

“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.

His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.

It remains as he answers.

“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”

a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]

[spidey-webz]

505 | Logan Howlett

Summary: You're long gone and Logan only has the memories of you left. One evening, he decides to relive them again and almost feel you around him once more... (loosely inspired by "505" by Arctic Monkeys)

Pairing: Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, lots of angst, reader has died in Logan's universe, hints at masturbation, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light choking, breast play (a little), oral (f receiving), alcohol, use of petnames (bub, baby...), it's a little sad, happy end ig? , MOST OF THIS IS A FLASHBACK/LOGANS MEMORIES

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Wade was on a date tonight. 

The apartment was strangely quiet without his roommate’s annoying voice. Blind Al was meeting up with friends too, so it was just Logan in the quiet space. 

A few weeks ago, he might have sought out the first bar he could find on an evening like this. But not today. Today, he just wanted to take time for himself. Watch some trashy sitcom on TV and order himself two pizzas just for himself. When would he ever get to experience an evening this quiet again? Wade’s chatter was continuously making his head hurt and he sincerely hoped that he would grow partial to it with time. Or else he might actually cut off his own ears in an attempt to stop this man’s mindless talk. 

Was killing someone because they talked too much a valid reason? 

The microwave in the kitchen let out a few “beep” noises. There were still some leftovers from yesterday. Greasy pasta seemed to be his main source of “nutrition” these days. If you could even call it that. 

Even though Wade was graciously offering him a place to stay, Logan didn’t want to overstay his welcome. He’d have to find his own apartment in due time. But he was still adapting to this world. 

Wade had tried multiple times to make him go to a bar with the intention of actually talking to someone. Find a friend or find a woman. 

But why would he do that? He had lost everything already. Helping Wade out with jobs for the TVA was one thing, but he didn’t want to socialise and meet other people. Back in his universe, it had brought him nothing but pain. He wasn’t going to risk someone else’s life again. Wade couldn’t die and Logan kept a friendly distance to all his friends even though they had been nothing but welcoming to him. 

The only person he would have cared about was you. Logan didn’t know if you even existed in this timeline, in this universe. But he knew the end of it all, so he would not come looking for you. Maybe if you had never met him, a few horrible things could have been prevented. 

Once he had sat down on the couch, plate in hand and putting on a TV show that he wasn’t going to pay any attention to, he tried to relax. Booze was the only option for him to feel calm. When all his senses were drowned out by the alcohol, he could allow himself not to think about you and the mistakes he has made. 

Wade insisted that he was a hero – a good man. He had saved people, he had saved this timeline, but the weight of his mistakes was only decreased and never really gone. 

Logan was a broken man. Nothing could fix him. 

His memories were weighing him down. Even now, in the quiet of his apartment, he felt like they were torturing him. 

There was one memory in particular that wouldn’t leave his mind. Losing his friends and his family had been one thing, but losing you had felt like the final blow. A death blow. 

Game over. 

His desperation always brought him here eventually. The sound of the TV being drowned out by his thoughts as he forced himself to focus on the good things. The happy memories with you, before all of it had been taken from him. 

He placed his plate down, rubbing over his temples. The thoughts of you wouldn’t leave his mind. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling. It was rushing through his entire body, encircling him and pulling at his nerves. 

Your smell would always linger in his memories. Your voice would always sound through his head in his dreams and even now, he could remember it as clear as day. Logan was getting older, his memory got worse, but you would always linger in his mind. Sometimes, he managed to push the memories away, but you’d always find a way back. He didn’t want to forget you. He just wanted the pain to stop. 

Logan missed your late-night conversations together. He missed spotting the crinkles around your eyes whenever you laughed, holding your stomach and making him feel like the funniest person on earth. 

But now? The Wolverine wasn’t fun. He wasn’t a “fun” guy. He had been drained of it when you left him. 

He had buried his happiness with you.

Yet you wouldn’t leave his mind. Sometimes, on days like today, he allowed himself to think about you. Let the good memories flood his mind. Hold onto the relief they brought him, before it would turn into pain again. 

Logan closed his eyes as he laid back on the couch. His breathing calmed down when he tried to hold onto the glimmer of hope as he dove back into the memories of you. It was addictive and soon, he found himself engulfed in the feeling of you. 

The hint of a smile appeared on his lips as he pictured your face in the sun. Your pretty lipstick almost begging for him to ruin it. 

He remembered running his thumb over your lips, smearing its colour a little, before he leaned in for a kiss. You always tasted so sweet on his tongue, the taste often lingering even after you left. Logan was a tough man, not easily shaken, appearing strong on the outside, but whenever your hands found their way into his hair, his heart started skipping beats. Low groans drowned in your mouth and he revelled in the feeling of your body pressing against his. 

Even now, when all he had were the memories of you, it was all he needed to feel intimacy.

Logan laid down on the couch, allowing his thoughts to drift away. 

For a moment, it felt like he was back in that hotel room. 

The numbers 505 written on the door. Moonlight shining in through the windows as he spotted you spread out on the bed. Hands settled between your thighs and that teasing smirk of yours. It would always drive him crazy.

And it still did now, as his hands undid his belt buckle, his mind ready to let go of reality for a moment. He was ready to let the good memories of you in, reminisce about the highs you’ve shared with each other.

Logan still remembered the feeling of your body against his own. Breasts pressed against his chest, hot skin against hot skin, your pants getting faster as he brought you both closer to your release. So many nights spent in pleasure with each other’s bodies, but the night in that hotel room stood out to him. 

His body was exhausted from his last mission. But Logan would never be too exhausted to return to you. As soon as Scott gave him the all-clear, he was quick to step onto the first plane he could get. Go back to New York, back to that hotel you had agreed to meet in. 

It was always a back and forth with you two. Never putting a label on things, but being drawn to each other all the time. Logan had tried to resist you in the beginning, but it had been to no avail. Your smile, your lips… it was all so very tempting and now he had lost himself in you. 

The walls of the hotel were dark, only a few dim lights illuminating the space above his head. Logan could feel his heart beating faster. You always brought him to his knees, but he would never admit it. 

Not to anyone, not to you. 

The numbers 505 were written on the door in big, golden letters. His hands instinctively smoothed down his lumberjack shirt, taking a deep breath. It felt like his body was craving yours, in more ways than one. 

Logan knocked on the door, waiting for you to allow him inside. 

“It’s open.”

Your voice sent a shiver down his spine. 

When he entered the room, his eyes immediately searched for you. And there you were. Spread out on the bed, wearing nothing but a shirt that looked way too big on you. Your hands laid between your thighs, your skin illuminated by the moonlight shining through the large windows. 

“I’ve missed you.”

Logan closed the door behind himself, smiling at your words. He had missed you too. 

“I know,” he answered, turning the lock before he stepped further into the room. 

His senses soon became filled with you. He drowned out the rest of the room, the rest of the lights outside. All the business of his life and the world around him seemed to vanish when you were close. Close enough to touch, close enough so he could drown himself in you. 

The smell of your perfume. The faint smile on your lips. His eagerness to touch you. 

Logan had spent so many nights between your thighs already. He loved to watch you squirm as he held you down with his arms hooked underneath your knees, lips attached to your sensitive bud. He would never get enough of your taste. He would never get enough of your moans filling the room. Soon, he would be able to feel your soft skin underneath his fingertips again.

But he wasn’t going to rush it. Not today. Even though his body wanted to feel yours intertwined with himself. 

You sat up on the bed, leaning against the headboard and stretching out your legs. Your shirt moved up, revealing the lace panties underneath. Logan’s gaze caught them almost instantly, eyes roaming your body as if he was already planning where to touch you first. 

“I ordered something to drink for us.” You pointed over to the small table by the window. Logan loved whiskey, so you made sure to order some. For yourself, you had chosen a simple cocktail. 

“Very considerate,” he grinned. Logan filled his glass with a few ice cubes and whiskey, taking a strong sip before he placed the glass back down. The liquid burned in his throat, but he would always enjoy the thrill it gave him. Drinking was just the easy way to try and avoid dealing with what was going on in his head. 

“How was the mission?” You asked him. You were no stranger to the feeling of staying up all night, worried that something might happen to Logan. His regenerative abilities lifted your worries a little, but there were still so many bad things that could happen if he wasn’t being careful enough. It was still fascinating to see wounds close up so quickly on the man’s skin. Also, hickeys never lasted. They healed up within seconds, vanishing into nothingness. 

But it wouldn’t stop Logan from leaving them on your soft skin. 

His shoulders slumped for a moment, before he let himself drop into the soft armchair. Your question seemed to have motivated him to drink just a little more, so he reached for his glass again, downing the remaining liquid in one go. “It went well. No major fuck-ups. I’m just glad to be back.”

“Back with you” he wanted to add, but those words never left his thoughts. 

“I’m glad you made it back. Without any major injuries.” Even though that wasn’t really possible…

Logan laughed softly, nodding a little. “Of course. I always try to come back in one piece. Wouldn’t want to miss out on that sight.” He tipped the glass in your direction, before placing it back down on the small table. His eyes raked over your body once more, his cock getting hard in his jeans. 

He needed you. There was no denying that anymore. 

Logan pushed himself out of his seat, slowly walking over to the bed. Your excitement grew by the second and you couldn’t hide the smile forming on your lips. Your dreams had been filled with the man ever since he had left. His touch would always linger on your skin and the memories of him, pressed up against you, whispering lewd words into your ear… 

He sat down at the end of the kingsized bed, beckoning you closer with a small movement of his hands. You followed suit, sitting down next to him and before you could open your mouth again, his lips were on yours. 

Hungry. Passionate. 

Maybe even desperate. 

His beard scraped against your cheeks, his arm sneaking around your back and pulling you straight into his lap. You could feel his arousal in his pants and you didn’t hesitate to roll your hips against his own. 

A low groan got lost between your kisses and Logan’s hold around you tightened. Your hands explored his hard chest, all toned muscle, wandering further down until you reached his belt. It wasn’t hard to open it while you were still kissing him, the gesture so familiar by now. 

You had waited far too long to chase your pleasure again with Logan. And you wanted him to know how much you had missed him. How he had been the only one on your mind. 

“We need to get you out of that nightgown,” Logan mumbled. His voice had grown rougher – deeper. 

His calloused fingers slipped under your silk clothing, brushing over your soft thighs before he lifted the nightgown over your head. His eyes lingered on your breasts, his erection twitching underneath you. Another buck of your hips and you had Logan groaning once more. 

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you while you were gone,” you mumbled into his ear as Logan started to kiss your neck. His beard scratched against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, while he took his sweet time littering your neck and then your jaw with sloppy kisses. His lips felt good on you. Wherever they might be. 

Your hands curled into his shirt, pressing your naked chest against his clothed one. 

“Is that so?” He asked in return and while you couldn’t see his smirk, you could clearly hear it in his voice. 

Your teeth caught onto his earlobe and a hiss slipped through Logan’s teeth. His right hand got a hold of your hair, pulling you back, so you’d look into his eyes again. 

“Touched myself when I was thinking ‘bout you,” you smiled. 

The thought alone seemed to spur Logan on even more. A soft groan, followed by a smirk as he pulled your head back by your hair. He was gentle with it, but still determined. His eyes searched for yours, mischief sparkling inside them. 

His beard brushed over your exposed breasts, leaving a shiver in its wake. Goosebumps spread over your skin as Logan wrapped his lips around your delicate nipple. His tongue swirled around it, still holding you by your hair, neck tilted back, so he could just admire the view in front of him. 

“Got the sweetest body I’ve ever fucking seen,” he grumbled, giving your right nipple a little pinch. He could spend an entire evening just taking in every inch of you. He needed to memorise every part of your body. 

Tension started to build in your abdomen and you wanted to clench your thighs together, desperate to get some kind of relief as Logan played with your body – determined to make you sing in his arms. 

In one swift motion, he had you on the bed again, head in the thick pillows as he slid between your legs. His calloused fingertips brushed over your thighs, before he slipped them underneath the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs and exposing your core to him. 

The sight in front of you was sinful. Logan had opened a few buttons of his shirt, hairy chest peeking out. You couldn’t wait to brush your hands over his chest again and feel his hard muscles under your palms. His hair was tousled from your kissing, his cheeks and lips a slight pink colour and the mischievous smirk on his face seemed to complete the picture. Your hands fisted the sheets when his tongue brushed over your sensitive nub. 

Logan was skilled with his tongue and he loved to show it to you. His arms hooked under your knees, holding tightly onto your thighs as he kept you spread out for him. Your hips bucked up against his mouth, so he pressed your hips back down again with one hand. “Stop squirming, bub. I will give you what you want.”

You could trust him with that. He licked through your folds again, savouring the taste before he continued flicking his tongue against your clit. Your back arched, hips trying to squirm, but he kept you firmly in place. Logan was eating you out like a man starved, relentless and desperate. His hips sometimes bucked forward, pressing his cock against the mattress for some sort of temporary relief.

He wanted to be inside you. But not without making you shiver for him first. His fingers dug into the plum flesh of your thigh, probably leaving a bruise or two. Your moans echoed through the room, hands clawing at the sheets as you felt your orgasm approaching. 

“M’close,” you announced, voice audibly trembling. 

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” His deep voice seemed to rumble through your middle, your hips bucking up further when Logan loosened his hold on you. His tongue continued to flick against your clit relentlessly, his middle finger slipping between your folds and curling just right. 

Your high came over you in waves, followed by whines and moans and chants of Logan’s name. It sounded like music in his ears. He wanted to hear more of this as the night would go on. 

And he would. 

His fingers continued to press against the spongy spot inside you for a few more seconds, letting you ride out your high. When your breathing calmed and your head dropped back into the pillows, Logan pulled out his fingers from between your folds. 

“Look at me.” His voice was demanding and you didn’t hesitate to direct your gaze back at the man between your legs. His eyes stared into yours as he ran his tongue along his finger, cleaning your wetness off them. A low groan escaped Logan’s lips at the same time, his eyes filling with desire. 

He had waited long enough to feel you around him again. He’d enjoy every second of what was about to come. 

Logan did quick work of his clothes. Shrugging off his shirt, the rest of his clothes soon joined the pile on the floor. For you, it was a delight to just watch. The muscles in his arms flexed with every one of his movements. The scratches from the last time you had slept together were nowhere to be seen. What you could see however, was the fine line of hair travelling down from his belly button and ending in his underwear. 

Your legs still felt shaky from your previous orgasm, but you felt the need to press them together in anticipation. Having Logan’s tongue between your folds was just one part of the pleasure he could give you. 

Being apart from him always made you crave him even more. His touch, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his body weight on top of you… 

Logan moved to hover over you, hands firmly planted on either side of your head as he looked down at you. His hair was a dishevelled mess, but it made you all the more desperate to run your fingers through it. And you did, even if it was just to pull him down further, lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. 

You could feel his left hand moving up your thigh, gently urging you to spread your thighs further, so he could settle between them. His naked body was always warmer than yours and you felt enveloped in his scent. You could feel his cock resting heavy between your thighs, his hips moving ever so slightly to create a little friction. 

“Lo, please…” you whimpered against his lips. Of course, he could only smile at your words. He was always a tease, but he couldn’t ignore his own desires. His body had been burning with longing and now you were right where he wanted you. 

“Don’t have to ask twice, sweetheart,” he mumbled against your neck, placing a few soft kisses there before he sat up on his knees and pulled you closer to his middle. His hands gently travelled up from your ankles to your thighs, before he took a short moment to admire your glistening folds. “So desperate just for me,” he groaned, before he aligned his cock with your middle. 

Logan wanted to feel your walls clench around him again. The sweetest feeling in the world for him. 

His cock slowly parted your folds, filling you up inch by inch. A low groan escaped his throat and you held tightly onto his strong arms. 

You loved to have Logan fill you – the satisfying sensation of having your body adjust to him and then feel so full. 

His hands moved to your thighs, putting your legs over his shoulders as he started to thrust slowly into you. 

“I’ve missed your pussy so much,” he groaned, looking down at the sight in front of him. 

Your eyes were wide, arousal clearly written onto your face and your tits were right there for him to see. With every shallow thrust, they moved just a little, nipples perking up and tempting Logan to lean down and capture them with his lips again. 

“More,” you urged him on, hands starting to claw at the sheets beneath you. Logan was more than happy to comply, so his pace picked up. His cock hit your sensitive spot in just the right way, sending shivers through your body with each thrust. You could feel him deep inside you, just right against your cervix. 

Each movement of his hips brought you closer to release and Logan’s thrusts grew harder and more impatient. He lifted you off the mattress ever so slightly to reach deeper, making your legs squirm on his shoulders. 

“Feelin’ so good, baby.” His eyes darkened with lust and he moved one hand away from your hips to palm your left breast instead. Logan’s thumb expertly brushed over your nipple as well, causing your pussy to spasm around him. 

Your walls tightened around his cock, eliciting a groan from him once more as he felt you squeeze him so perfectly. Logan could usually do this for hours, but he hadn’t seen you in so long and your body knew exactly how to work him up just right. 

“I'm so close, Lo,” you warned him, nails scratching along his arms as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. Your legs were shaking on his shoulders, announcing your incoming orgasm to him. 

His thrusts grew a little faster and he angled your legs closer to your body, hitting your sensitive spot over and over again in that position. Beads of sweat started to build on his forehead as he grew closer to his climax. Logan’s hand moved from your breast to your throat, lightly pressing down on it and sending another wave of pleasure through your entire body. 

With a corse voice, he leaned down to you, never stopping the movements of his hips. “I want you to come around me. I wanna feel your pussy milking me,” he groaned. 

His words finally sent you over the edge. Your orgasm came over you in waves and had you shaking underneath Logan. The spasms of your walls around him sent him over the edge too and you felt his warm cum filling you up bit by bit. His hands clawed at your hips, not enough to bruise you, but holding on quite strongly. 

“Shit,” he groaned, moving your legs to rest on his sides before he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, but short kiss. His hand moved up to brush some hair out of your face, gaze searching for yours as he relished in the feeling of having you still wrapped around him like this. 

“Don’t stay away for this long again, Logan.” 

Your words sounded like a plea and he was happy to oblige. 

He would not leave you out of his sight for long again. 

Logan put an arm over his forehead as the memories washed away again. His skin was covered in sweat and he felt the tears well up in his eyes. All of this always made him emotional again. 

He couldn’t bring you back anymore, but he could keep your memories safe with him. Sometimes, it felt good to indulge them, other times it just hurt. This time, it had felt like a relief, but the pain was already waiting to wash over him again. 

Cleaning himself up, he eventually got up from the couch and went for a shower. He needed to feel the hot water on his skin, a small distraction from his thoughts. As always, he turned it up high enough to almost burn him. But it rinsed him clean of his worries for a moment. 

Of his longing for you. 

He should have told you how he actually felt about you. That it was more than just sex, more than a physical attraction… 

After his shower, Logan just wanted to curl up on the couch again and fall asleep there. Let the next day come and live it as good as he could, because what other choice did he have? 

The doorbell prevented him from heading to the couch immediately. Instead, he quickly put on some short pants and a shirt, before he headed to the apartment door to find out who would bother him at this time. 

His heart stopped for a second when he swung the door open and the person on the other side came into view. 

It was you. 

taglist: @nonamevenus

[andbreakmynose]

he won't go away

he's haunting you. am al.

WARNINGS: p-in-v, he's possessive and a bit mean, feelings, references to drugs/drinking, technically cheating but not really

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

Being a young woman in the 21st century had to be torture. You thought the breakup would be the hardest part; moving all your stuff out of the shared apartment was incredibly sad; sometimes you still got sad when you saw his shirts in your closet. But it turns out the hardest part is actually trying to get back out there. The apps of hell.

It was practically impossible to find someone who matched your standards. Alex, your ex, was so perfect in (almost) every way that everyone else paled in comparison. Seriously, how were you supposed to fall back in love when your last boyfriend was a global phenomenon rockstar?

He was almost everywhere you looked, practically inescapable. Every shop you went into was selling his newest record or playing one of their songs. His face was in every magazine at every store. The month you spent traveling in the states didn’t even help; Arctic Monkeys had finally crossed over, and he was big there too.

The worst part of it was that even when you scrolled Tinder to move on, you’d see him. Someone would have them as his favorite band; they’d have a lyric in their bio; they’d be wearing merchandise; or you’d check their Instagram to see concert photos. It was a frustrating cycle of constant reminders that he didn’t want you anymore.

That’s what he said—that he couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with you anymore. That he was moving on to “bigger and better things,” and you weren’t a part of that. You had sensed it was coming; he had started to become cockier; he was drinking and smoking more, and you even thought he might be taking something stronger. You didn’t blame him though; he was on top of the world, and you were just his hometown girlfriend who worked a 9-5.

You didn’t mean to keep up with him, but you read the headlines: ‘Arctic Monkeys Announces Massive UK Tour’, ‘Arctic Monkeys Sells Out Madison Square Garden’, ‘Arctic Monkeys To Headline Reading and Leeds.”

Those were tolerable; you knew he’d be big. The ones that bothered you were the personal ones. ‘Alex Turner Seen Wasted After Big Night Out’, ‘Alex Turner Seen With Another Mystery Blonde’. That was frustrating. You envied him in a sense; he didn’t have to worry about seeing your name anywhere. He was able to move on as quickly as possible and never look back. He had all the money, all the girls, and everything he could ever need at his disposal.

It was obvious you had become bitter; your best friend had remarked that you ‘just hadn’t been yourself’ since the breakup and “needed to get laid soon” or you’d “become a criminal case.” Maybe she was right, and that's what put you on the apps. You wanted to find a nice, normal man, someone who wasn’t performing at the Olympics.

The guys were nice for the most part. You had seen a few cute ones and had a few good conversations. There was even a date once! He was a nice guy from the north side of town who worked at a bank. The dinner you had with him was good, but the chemistry just wasn’t there.

For every match there were at least 50 strikeouts, but you were hopeful about this current guy. His name was Rob. Rob was tall and had pretty blue eyes and worked a well-paying job in finance. He liked nature and Oasis and had two dogs. He was the type of normalcy you craved. He asked you on a date, and of course you said yes; maybe you’d finally move on.

-

The two of you decided on one of your favorite pubs on a Saturday. And when Saturday came along, you pushed your nerves to the side and tried to look as presentable as possible. You felt a bit guilty about wearing a dress that Alex bought you, but you had to wear it at some point. You cover yourself in perfume and slip on your finest lace lingerie, just for the confidence. Today is supposed to be the day you become the new you.

Rob was already there when you arrived; he wore a nice outfit and looks good, but you’re not immediately head over heels. Maybe this would take time; that was fine. He gestured to the open bar stool next to him and the pint waiting for you. You smiled and walked over to him.

“Hey! Thanks for... this.” You pointed your head towards the pint and took a seat next to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he smiled at you, giving your body a once-over. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”

His compliment doesn’t fluster you as much as it should, but you still smiled and thanked him, attaching your lips to the glass and taking a drink.

The conversation was easy; he told you about what it’s like to work in finance, and you told him what it’s like in your occupation. He showed you pictures of his three dogs whose names you could not remember, and you showed him pictures from your trip to Italy last year, neglecting to add the piece of information that you went with Alex.

Things seemed to be going really well; your bar stool had ended up closer to his, and his hand brushed across your knee a few times. Maybe the night would end well and you’d get to go home with him; you hadn’t been fucked since Alex and your vibrator weren’t doing the job anymore. In fact, it was going so well that you were about to ask about a second date when his head perked up and his eyes darted to a corner.

“Holy shit! Is that the guy from Arctic Monkeys?”

Your first thought was that somehow he knew that he was fucking with you and wanted to get you upset. But then you noticed the genuine surprise and shock in his face—a lump forming in your throat. Maybe he got his people confused?

The split second glance you turned in Alex’s direction is all you needed to know it was him. He was carrying himself the same way he had been, and you could almost hear the boom of his voice from the other side of the pub. Christ. Your stomach suddenly felt like you could throw up any second.

“I think it is.” Your voice was barely above a mutter, but Rob heard it all, his face perking up even more.

“That’s so cool! I saw them last time they came here!”

You nodded and said you saw them too. You didn’t tell him that you also saw them in London and Paris and New York and Tokyo, and that he dedicated a song to you on your birthday at a show in New Jersey. It felt like years of memories were flooding back, but you just had to repress that.

It seemed that Rob wasn’t that big of a fan because he quickly diverted his attention back to you and started talking about some hike he took a few months ago. You’re sure it was lovely, but your mind couldn’t really focus on anything but the man who hadn’t even noticed your presence. You kept nodding and attached your lips to your drink.

After a bit of one-sided conversation, Rob patted you on the back and excused himself to the restroom. He leaves you alone. Alone with Alex, only half a room away. You ordered a second drink to try and distract yourself, but that’s no help.

You swear you hear your name come from his lips, echoing in your eyes in an almost painful way. It’s just a hallucination; you’re just remembering stuff. That’s what you tell yourself.

“Her? Yeah, she was my bitch ex. Too uptight for me, if you know what I mean.” His voice booms through the room, like he’s purposely saying it as loud as possible because he knows you’ll hear. Fuck.

You couldn’t help it; you had to check. When you turn your head to the side to see him again, his dark eyes are staring right into you, that cocky smirk he adopted in the last months of your relationship present on his face. He caught you.

You didn’t recognize the guys he was with; they were probably figures from his new life. You also didn’t recognize the blonde girl he conveniently had his hand on the ass of. You couldn’t tell rather to be flustered or pissed that his attention was on you and not whoever she was. He still stared directly into your soul; something between anxiety and sorrow filled you up.

Rob returned after a minute, snapping you out of your trance and pulling your attention back onto him. Right, your date. You smiled and tried to focus on his face—his face that was nowhere near as attractive as Alex’s.

“So, what was it you were saying about hiking in Ireland?” It was a copout, but it was safe; he was more than happy to talk about himself. He went on and on about the cows and the grass and his sister Emily.

Every few minutes you’d hear Alex say something else. Something about the ‘pretty lady standing next to him’ or the ‘total fucking bender’ he went on last week. Was he trying to rile you up? Get a reaction? Well yeah, it worked. You could feel your blood start to boil while you drank more and more.

That caught up; after maybe your third drink you had to pee, really bad. You stood up and apologized to Rob before excusing yourself in the ladies room. Your head was starting to spin, and it would be lying to say you weren’t overwhelmed. You did your business and took a second to breathe.

You opened the door to head back to your date that was going very well. Thank you. The door creaked open and then shut just as instantly, your back against the door and your body back in the bathroom. Him.

He wasn’t a big man by any means, but his presence took up the entire room; it made you feel small. Alex was staring down at you, and it was hard to tell if he was really bored or really turned on.

“We need to talk.” Is all that he uttered? His voice was surprisingly monotone for him.

“In the ladies room at a pub?”

He nods.

“I have a date. He’ll get worried.” You crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground even though all you wanted to do was fold.

“Yeah. That’s why we need to talk.” He backed away from the door and leaned against the wall, very obviously checking himself out in the mirror. He ran a hand through his quiff and turned back to you with a scoff. “I don’t like him. He’s a twat.”

You scoff back, “Yeah? Well, last time I checked, you didn’t like me either.” Alex winces at this.

“I never said that,” he corrected you, his face slightly less smug. “I said I wanted to explore. Try new things. Spend the rest of my tour living like a real rockstar.” He pauses for dramatic effect, staring you up and down. “But I’m over that, baby; I want you back. I want to be us again. Please.”

You couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not; he probably was. He was probably drunk and didn’t know what he was saying. But goddamnit, these last months of pain came back, and you couldn’t help but feel for him. You wanted him back too.

“What about your new life? The fucking benders. All your new friends out there... the new girl you were fondling earlier.” You needed to stay strong; you couldn’t cave like that. You made sure that all your mockery and frustration with him for the last months came out in your voice.

He sighed again, his hand returning to his quiff. You couldn’t tell if he was that obsessed with himself that he wanted to perfect it constantly or if it was a nervous habit.

“What about your new life? Chad from finance is telling you about the stock market and his university days.”

“Rob, actually. And he’s very nice. Nicer than you’ve been this past year.” An eye roll.

Alex guffawed at this, nodding his head in a way that reminded you of a movie greaser.

“And yet you still want me more than him, don’t you? You want me again just as bad as I want you.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Maybe it was the alcohol, but yeah, you were getting hot and bothered. The rockstar act was obnoxious, but it was also sexy as hell.

“I can’t just leave. Rob’s a nice guy; I don’t want to destroy him.” Even if you were about to throw yourself at your ex, you still had enough morals to think about Rob.

Alex hummed and thought for a second; he wasn’t going to let you just run away from him. He needed you to come back home.

“Go up to him and say ya got your period or something. You need to go home and take care of it. You’re a smart girl; figure it out.” Condescension laced his voice. He brought his hand up and ran it across your arm just to watch the goosebumps it elicited. “See, you want this. Come home with me.”

You couldn’t fight it anymore and nodded. You were weak for him; he was your weakness. He was perfect, and you couldn’t go without feeling him again.

“I’ll meet you out front,” the smirk reappeared on his face, and he gently guided you out of the bathroom with his hand on your ass. He went right towards the exit and left you to go right towards Rob.

“Hey Rob. I’m sorry it took me forever. I have some lady problems going on, and I need to run home and grab a pad. I’ll text you about a second date, yeah?” You smiled at him but gave him no time to respond before you were out the front door and Alex was wrapping his big hands around your back. You had a long night ahead.

He kept his hand on your shoulder the entire way home; no words fell from his mouth. There was this feeling he was giving you, like he was disappointed beyond words even though he was the one that ended things.

The drive to his place was painstakingly familiar. You had done this very same trip back and forth more times than you could count. One of your first dates had been him taking you here and then kissing you while the band played a Stone Roses song; maybe you had fucked with fate by returning to the same location.

You felt a sharp pain searing through your heart when you saw the brick exterior of his flat. That was your home. Your home for two years that you had been shut out of only within the last 5 months. And you were back.

He made a whistling noise followed by a click, as if you were a dog. You’re embarrassed in the way you immediately folded, hopping out of the car and walking up the familiar stairs to the front door. His keys opened it up, and you took a step inside, the sight of it all flooding your senses.

The flat was redecorated, but it was still yours; there was your old sofa in the corner, the painting you bought with him at the market, and his collection of leather boots sat at the door. The smell was also different; it was no longer you and Alex. It was just Alex. Musky cologne and cigarette smoke replaced what was once the smell of your baking and your combined scents.

Alex watched you take in the sight; a humorless chuckle left his lips. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same pain; he missed you more than he wanted to admit. His eyes flicked back over to your body, scanning you in. Fuck, that dress.

“Why are you wearing my dress?” It was basically a bark, an accusation. All pain he felt was met with anger. You were wearing something he bought you to see another man.

“It’s not your dress. It’s mine.” Playing dumb never worked with Alex, so you were unsure why you did it. Maybe it was a defense mechanism that led to your relationship's downfall.

“Don’t be a bitch. I bought that dress with my money for my eyes to see you in it. It’s my dress.” His voice was harsher now; the frustration of months without you and the alcohol clouded his head.

“I thought it made me look pretty. And until an hour ago, you wanted nothing to do with me. I figured game was game.” There’s a truth to your words, but it still elicited a deep scoff from the back of his throat. He took a step towards you.

“Does make you look pretty. You’ve always been the prettiest baby.” You started to take this as him softening in a way; he was complimenting you instead of getting mad again. But then he took another step forward and, in one swift motion, pulled the dress over the top of your head, leaving you exposed in your lace bra and panty set. A deep blush covered your face, and a groan left his mouth.

“Fuck. You’re killing me, baby.” His hands started to travel up and down your body, making your body shiver when he ran by your chest and hips. “You expected him to take you back home? You wanted him to fuck you and make you forget all about me?”

“I tried,” but before you could even begin to explain the complexity of emotions running through your brain, he threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It was simultaneously the most degrading, humiliating, and hot thing you’d ever experienced.

He brought you over to the bed, your old shared bed, and threw you down on it, looking down at you with lust-blown eyes.

“I tried. I really tried. But I just can’t fucking get over you. Been looking for you everywhere, hoping to make you mine again.” The confession made your heart stop, but not for long until his hands started to remove your bra. All the heat and tension of the moment made your panties start to feel wetter, and your nipples perked up. Alex licked his lips.

“You were looking for me?” You tried to manage your cool and not give in too easily. You hadn’t been fucked in so long, but he was supposed to be your ex; he kicked you out, and now he’s begging for you back.

“You were looking for me too. Don’t lie.” He said it like he knew it was a truth, even if you hadn’t admitted it yet. His hands slipped off your underwear and slipped it in his pocket. “You’re not wearing these for someone else again.”

After seeing how you bit your lip to hide a moan, he smirked and ran two long fingers through your folds. Nothing could compare to his touch; you had tried so many different vibrators, and yet you hadn’t felt pleasure like this since the last time he touched you. A small whimper escaped your lips, and thats when he knew he won. You were his again.

He started to circle his fingers around your entrance, brushing against your clit a few times before entering you. The first moan of the night escaped your lips, and he gave a knowing nod and chuckle. His free hand worked to dispose of his leather jacket and then started to work at the buttons of his shirt.

“I’ll fuck you if you say you’re mine again. If you promise to come back to me. Be my baby again. Me and you.” He rasped, voice pooling with desire, dominance, and genuine affection. It was an odd combination, but so was Alex. It all made you miss him more. He bent his fingers inside of you and started to move them faster.

“SHIT! Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be yours again. Please Alex.” You felt pathetic at how easy you gave in, but the sight of the bulge pressing against his jeans was enough to show that you weren’t the only one desperate. And it was nice to know he wanted you back for more than just a fuck.

“Atta girl.” He smirked and then removed his hand from inside of you, bringing it to his lips to taste the distinct and vaguely sour-sweet juices from you. The sight was pornographic, and while you whined at the lack of contact, you moaned at the sight. “Missed your taste,” he added before he used his hands to slip his jeans and boxers off in one solid motion.

And there you were, back to old times. Two naked figures in a shared bedroom. Most of your nights pre-breakup were spent fucking until you both passed out. You were sure tonight would be no different.

He pushed you back on the bed slightly, angling his own body so his throbbing would line up with your leaking cunt. The sight made you salivate; he was big, and the head was turning red in desperation. It was like his cock missed you just as much as the rest of him.

He leaned down to meet your lips in a searing kiss, not even bothering to ask you for permission to slip his tongue in your mouth. He let this dance go on for a bit, the kiss becoming sloppier and teeth starting to collide. He let you get totally preoccupied in the kiss before he shoved himself inside of you with no real warning, his entire length puncturing your hole.

You were definitely tighter than last time you two fucked, the result of the absence of him. He smiled at that; it felt better than it ever had, and it was a confirmation you were really holding yourself back for him.

“Tight baby. Thank you for not sharing my pussy with everyone else.” He chuckled a bit at his own words, as if they were funny, before he decided you had had enough time to adjust to his stretch and began to move.

Just as he did, the moans began to fall from your mouth, the pleasure beginning to build up in ways you forgot were possible. Every movement stretched your tight warmth out more and more, filling you up with such deliciousness that you couldn’t help but cry a stream of ‘Alex!”.

His breath started to become a bit shallower, and he reached out to palm at your tits while he thrust. It was like a teenager seeing them for the first time, but he had missed them so much. His fingers pinched at your nipples, his cock hit every nerve entrance in your vagina, and his mouth returned to yours to envelope you in a passionate fire. Every part of you felt hot, and every part of him felt hot. Just how it was supposed to be.

A pace was set after a minute; he was fast and hard because he needed this and he knew you did too. You knew he wouldn’t last too long out of the sheer intensity and desperation of it all.

As his grunts became louder and his movements faster, you brought your hand down to circle around your clit, the little movements causing a full-body shiver to run down and a stream of obscenities leaving your mouth. He grinned at this but didn’t move your hand; he’d usually help you out, but he was too preoccupied with your perfect tits. Every sense of yours was activated, and on full sensitivity, it was just too hot. Your vibrators couldn’t compare to him, and he realized then that your pussy had ruined every other girl for him. He spent months seeking pleasure, but you’re the only one he wanted.

It was the hottest feeling in the world when you felt his dick begin to twitch inside of you; the addition of this made everything just the hotter. You sped your hand movements up and your back arched slightly, your mouth falling open and your eyes turning white. You two were both close.

It was a sudden snap of the coil inside your stomach that had you cumming, practically exploding in bliss. It was an orgasm to an extreme you hadn’t had in a while, maybe since even before the breakup.

The feeling of you cumming just turned Alex on more, and he was soon to follow after, making one final thrust before he pulled out and covered your stomach in warm lines of milky cum. He stared at it for a second, finding it the most beautiful sight in the world, before collapsing next to you, catching his breath.

The two of you layed like that for a while, chests returning to normal speeds and minds trying to process what just happened. His cum was still on your stomach, but all you could think about was how you had just crossed a line you were never supposed to cross with an ex. As if he could sense this, he lifted his head up and wiped the cum off your stomach with his shirt from the floor. It was laundry day tomorrow anyway.

“That was... incredible. I missed you, baby.” He said, and his voice returned to a softness you only remembered from your most intimate moments.

“I missed you too.” You giggled a bit at his choice of cleaning material but smiled at his words, moving your body a little closer to his when he laid down again.

“Good. I want you to be my girl again.

“I want to be your girl again. We’ll figure this out in the morning, I guess.” You were both too fucked out to make logical, rational decisions.

“Yeah. We’ll get through this. I won’t be a twat again. I promise.” And then he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, almost like a silent promise that he wouldn’t. At the moment you trusted him, but maybe it was just the sex lingering in your brain. At that moment, what you knew was that the man you had loved for years was back next to you, and Rob from finance was someone you’d never have to worry about again.

A/N: this is shit again but i felt like putting something out. currently in the process of applying to transfer universities so i'm pretty out of time.

[aha-chuu]

My Kavetham HCs

Met when Al Haitham started at the Akademiya and Kaveh was in third year (out of total four)

Like my uni, the Akademiya has a mentorship program for the first years. Kaveh signed up as a mentor as a good deed for his 'dear juniors' (he did not think it through) and Al Haitham is forced to participate because he's too antisocial

They get paired up together

At first they really don't like each other but Kaveh is too stubborn to give up, so they have to put up with each other

Al Haitham gets into too many fights with his first year roommate for being 'weird' and 'mean' (he's just too honest)

He asks to stay with Kaveh because he lives in his own flat off campus

(Cyno tells Kaveh to refuse. Says it's the worst idea ever. Kaveh is too blinded by his image as a good senior to listen).

Weirdly, even though they do not get along, they are great roommates. Al Haitham does the cleaning and Kaveh does all the cooking, Kaveh does household repairs and Al Haitham keeps on top of the shopping. They don't really argue over using the bathroom because Kaveh is a night owl and gets up much later than Al Haitham

They begin to appreciate each other a little more

Al Haitham works out in the garden and Kaveh joins him (he takes up the claymore to one up Al Haitham's sword. Al Haitham starts dual wielding to one up Kaveh. Neither of them admit to any of this)

Kaveh realises his physical attraction early on, basically as soon as he sees Al Haitham. He ignores it when he realises how annoying Al Haitham is. It's reawakened when he notices Al Haitham buying the groceries to Kaveh's preference, and then it is deepened when Al Haitham gives him constructive notes on his projects (he's starting to see past his bluntness)

I hc that Al Haitham can be pretty oblivious and he doesn't clock into physical attraction until they are living together. But he starts feeling romantic attraction earlier on, because he does actually like arguing with Kaveh and he's impressed that he can keep up in debates

They are basically on the cusp of getting together when Kaveh graduates. They live off campus but Kaveh wants to move out of the city, which Al Haitham doesn't understand. For once they don't argue but they are upset with each other, and when Kaveh leaves they don't say good bye properly.

Al Haitham graduates two years later and sells the flat they had shared. He sends Kaveh all the money, which is a gesture they both appreciate. Al Haitham gets his high paying job at the Akademiya and buys his very cushy house

Kaveh uses the money Al Haitham sent as a 'good faith' payment to prove he's good for the loan he takes on Dori's Palace. He is not actually in the financial position to follow through, and so he is bankrupted and in debt by the end of the project

Homeless, he stays with Cyno for a while. Cyno tells him to ask Al Haitham for help since technically Al Haitham owes him, but Kaveh disagrees and says it would diminish his generosity from when Al Haitham needed help

Al Haitham finds out about Kaveh's troubles and writes to him. They have been writing to each other sporadically, but they haven't met in person since Kaveh moved away. Al Haitham invites him to see his nice house, Kaveh sees through the offer but goes anyway

Al Haitham never offers Kaveh to live with him. He makes Kaveh ask to stay for a few days in order to stop intruding on Cyno, and then accepts him long term.

Al Haitham gets Kaveh a key in his darshan:'s colours because he knows Kaveh cares about the aesthetics of that kind of thing. Kaveh buys the lion key ring when he accuses Al Haitham of being colour blind, always taking the wrong (or both) keys

Living together again is tense because of the new power dynamic and Kaveh being so sour over having to rely on Al Haitham, and Al Haitham is (though he won't admit it) still holding a grudge against Kaveh for moving out years prior

They still make good roommates, but they're back to square one in terms their actual dynamic. Both assume the other person lost feelings at some point, and Kaveh especially thinks Al Haitham is just lauding his success over him

(because Al Haitham "doesn't keep track of favours", Kaveh doesn't think he's just paying him back. But he also knows Al Haitham isn't one for kindness.)

((Al Haitham isn't letting him stay out of kindness but because he missed him!!! Neither of them will ever verbalise this))

Most of their antagonism towards the other is exaggerated, but they do bicker a lot. After the events of the Sumeru Archon Quest, Kaveh has a period of being even more convinced that Al Haitham keeps him around just to be condescending, but he starts to let go of that as he learns more about what happened during the takedown of the previous sages

For his part, Al Haitham doesn't even have time to wonder what Kaveh thinks of him because he's so busy as Acting Grand Sage

At this point in canon, they still haven't admitted their feelings. But the tension is so thick that it's one long look away from shattering entirely

By now, all of Kaveh's friends (Cyno, Tighnari etc) are aware that Kaveh is hiding how he feels with hostility and insecurity. No one has a good read on Al Haitham, but in reality he isn't trying to be secretive at all, he likes arguing and enjoys living with Kaveh, he's just currently too tired from all the crap he's had to do to have a conversation about it

I think they'll only get together once Kaveh gets over himself and is honest. Then Al Haitham will have to be direct instead very quietly being completely open about how he feels

They are just as insufferable as a couple :))

[poppyandzena]

This is a comment I intended to post on Z/P’s most recent video, but they’re locking down their comments now to manual approval, and my comment would’ve been censored anyway. Consider this my refutation of the points in their video:

Four points.

Spawn is a 24 year old adult. What they choose to do with the money their biological mother left them is THEIR business. Maybe you think they were blowing it on frivolous things, but it’s not your place to dictate how they should spend their money. Nevermind the fact that you charged them rent already.

When Spawn left your household, they were  5’1” and 80lbs. This piece of info was somehow missing from your video (unless it’ll be in part 2, which I’m skeptical of). At best you were negligent of your child’s health. At worst, you were actively starving them.

The way you point out how Spawn’s roommate has a “prestigious job” and how it would be a real shame if KiwiFarms went after them is absolutely disgusting. How is that specific detail relevant at all? The roommate has nothing to do with this fiasco. You’re all but prompting the KF mob with personally identifiable info to go after Spawn and their roommate. I don’t know how the hell you thought this made y’all look good.

You say that you consulted 3 lawyers, and that they say you have a credible case of defamation against Spawn, one which you will bring to them if they don’t stop talking about you. I call bullshit on this for two reasons. This feels like an attempt to intimidate Spawn into silence more than anything (Spawn deleting their blog speaks to that). First off, if you’re going to sue for damages related to losing your job, remember that you’re the one who made the decision to pick your social media presence over your job. That was on you, you could’ve kept your job (unless there’s something you’re not telling us). Second, I sincerely doubt you have the funds to keep a lawyer on retainer and to bring this lawsuit to fruition. Not to be mean, but let’s keep it real, by your own admission y’all weren’t exactly big ballers before, and now your household doesn’t have an income (unless Zena has a well paying job I’m not aware of). Looking online reveals that the average defamation lawsuit costs $20,000 - $50,000. Considering the sprinklings of info you’ve dispensed about your finances over the years I’ve been watching your channel, I doubt you have that kind of cheese to throw around. And even if you do manage to find enough standing to successfully sue your child (which just *screams* loving parent), what exactly do you hope to win? Spawn is probably financially destitute. What, you want the last $13k of that trust fund money? Come on, be real. See, this is why I don’t think y’all actually reached out to a lawyer, because any lawyer worth their salt would tell you this isn’t a case worth pursuing. Any damages you can extract from a disabled 24-year old wouldn’t even come close to covering the legal fees. It won’t get you your job back either; you willingly chose to leave, and if you felt coerced, you’d go after your employer for wrongful termination. This is an unserious legal threat in my opinion; you’re afraid that Spawn will keep singing like a canary so you want them to keep quiet.

👏

[mostlysignssomeportents]

California to smash prison e-profiteers

On Weds (May 10), I’m in Vancouver for a keynote at the Open Source Summit and a book event for Red Team Blues at Heritage Hall and Thu (May 11), I’m in Calgary for Wordfest.

It’s a double-whammy that defines 21st century American life: a corporation gets caught doing something terrible, exploitative or even murderous, and a government agency steps in — only to discover that there’s nothing it can do, because Reagan/Trump/Clinton/Bush I/Bush II deregulated that industry and stripped the agency of enforcement powers.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/08/captive-audience/#good-at-their-jobs

Man, that feels awful. The idea that extremists gutted our democratically accountable institutions so that there’s nothing they can do, no matter how egregious a corporation’s conduct is so demoralizing. Makes me feel like giving up.

But the law is a complex and mysterious thing. Regulators aren’t actually helpless. There are authorities, powers and systems that the corporate wreckers passed over, failed to notice, or failed to neuter. Take Section 5 of the FTC Act, which gives the Commission broad powers to prevent “unfair and deceptive” practices. Since the 1970s, the FTC just acted like this didn’t exist, even though it was right there all along, between Section 4 and Section 6.

Then, under the directorship of FTC chair Lina Khan, Section 5 was rediscovered and mobilized, first to end the practice of noncompete “agreements” for workers nationwide:

https://mattstoller.substack.com/p/antitrust-enforcers-to-ban-indentured

A new breed of supremely competent, progressive regulators are dusting off those old lawbooks and figuring out what powers they have, and they’re using those powers to Get Stuff Done. It’s like that old joke:

Office manager: $75 to kick the photocopier?

Repair person: No, it’s $5 to kick the photocopier, $70 to know where to kick it.

There’s a whole generation of expert photocopier-kickers in public life, and they’ve got their boots on:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

This is the upside of technocracy — where you have people who are appointed to do good things, and who want to do good things, and who figure out how to do good things. There are dormant powers everywhere in law. Remember when Southwest Air stranded a million passengers over Christmas week and Transport Secretary Pete Buttigieg responded by talking sternly about doing better, but without opening any enforcement actions against SWA?

At the time, Buttigieg’s defenders said that was all he could do: “Pete isn’t the boss of Southwest’s IT department, you know!” He’s not — but he is in possession of identical powers to the FTC to regulate “unfair and deceptive” practices, thanks to USC40 Section 41712(a), which copy-pastes the language from Article 5 of the FTC Act into the DOT’s legislative basis:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The failures of SWA were a long time coming, and were driven by the company’s shifting of costs from shareholders to employees and fliers. SWA schedules many flights for which they have no aircraft or crew, and when the time to fly those jets comes, the company simply cancels the emptiest flights. This is great for SWA’s shareholders, who don’t have to pay for fuel and crew for half-empty planes — but it’s terrible for crew and fliers.

What’s more, selling tickets for planes that don’t exist is plainly unfair and deceptive. A good photocopier-kicker in charge of the DOT would have arrived with a “first 100 days” plan that included opening hearings into this practice, as a prelude to directly regulating this conduct out of existence, averting the worst aviation scheduling crisis in US history. That’s what Buttigieg’s critics wanted from him: a competent assessment of his powers, followed by the vigorous use of those powers to protect the American people.

One domain that’s been in sore need of a photocopier-kicker for years is prison tech. America (“the land of the free”) incarcerates more people than any nation in the history of the world — more than the USSR, more than China, more than Apartheid-era South Africa.

For corporate prison profiteers, those prisoners are a literal captive audience, easy pickings for gouging on telephone calls, books, music, and food. For years, companies like Securus have been behind an incredibly imaginative array of sadistic tactics that strip prisoners of the contact, education and nutrition that governments normally provide to incarcerated people, and then sells those prisoners and their families poor substitutes for those necessities at markups that cost many multiples of the equivalent services in the free world.

Think of prisons that reduce the amount of food served to sub-starvation levels, then sell food at high markups in the prison commissary. For prisoners whose families can afford commissary fees, this is merely extortion. But for prisoners who don’t have anyone to top up their commissary accounts, it’s literal starvation.

This is the shape of every prison profiteer’s grift: take something vital away and then sell it back at a massive markup, dooming the prisoners who can’t afford it. The most obvious way to gouge prisoners is by charging huge markups for phone calls. Prisoners who can afford to pay many dollars per minute can stay in touch with their families, while the rest rot in isolation.

In 2015, the FCC tried to halt this practice, passing an order capping the price of calls, but in 2017, the DC District Court struck down the order, ruling that the FCC couldn’t regulate in-state call tariffs, which are the majority of prison calls:

https://www.cadc.uscourts.gov/internet/opinions.nsf/0/C62A026B396DD4C78525813E004F3BC5/%24file/15-1461-1679364.pdf

This was a bonanza for prison profiteers. Companies like Jpay (now a division of Securus) cranked up the price of prisoners’ calls. At the same time, dark-money lobbying campaigns urged prisons to get rid of their in-person visitation programs in the name of “safety”:

https://www.mic.com/articles/142779/the-end-of-prison-visitation

Not just visitation: prisons shuttered their libraries and banned shipments of letters, cards and books — again, in the same of “safety.” Jpay an its competitors stepped in with “free tablets” — cheap, badly made Chinese tablets. Instead of checking out books from the prison library or having them mailed to you by a friend or family member, prisoners had to buy DRM-locked ebooks at many multiples of the outside world price (these same prices were slapped on public domain books ganked from Project Gutenberg):

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2018/07/24/no-cost-contract/

Instead of getting letters and cards from your family members and friends, you had to pay to look at scans of them, buying “virtual stamps” that had to accompany every page (they even charged by the “page” for text messages):

https://www.wired.com/story/jpay-securus-prison-email-charging-millions/

Enshittification is my name for service-decay, where companies that have some kind of lock-in make things worse and worse for their customers, secure in the knowledge that they’ll keep paying because the lock-in keeps them from leaving. When your customers are literally locked in (that is, behind bars), the enshittification comes fast and furious.

Securus/Jpay and its competitors found all kinds of ways to make their services worse, like harvesting recordings of their calls to produce biometric voice-prints that could be used to track prisoners after they were released:

https://theintercept.com/2019/01/30/prison-voice-prints-databases-securus/

Of course, once the prison phone-carriers started harvesting prisoners’ phone calls, it was inevitable that they would leak those calls, including intimate calls with family members and privileged calls with lawyers:

https://www.aaronswartzday.org/securedrop-prisoner-data/

Prison-tech companies know they can extract huge fortunes from their captive audience, so they are shameless about offering bribes (ahem, “profit-sharing”) to prison authorities and sheriffs’ offices to switch vendors. When that happens, prisoners inevitably suffer, as happened in 2018, when Florida state prisons changed tech providers and wiped out $11.8m worth of prisoners purchased media — every song prisoners had paid for:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/08/captive-audience-how-floridas-prisons-and-drm-made-113m-worth-prisoners-music

As bad as these deals are for prisoners, they’re great for jailers, who are personally and institutionally enriched by prison-tech giants. This is textbook corruption, in which small groups of individuals are enriched while vast, diffuse costs are extracted from large groups of people. Naturally, the deals themselves are swathed in secrecy, and public records requests for their details are met with blank, illegal refusals:

https://www.muckrock.com/news/archives/2018/may/25/laramie-county-prison-phones/

The “shitty technology adoption curve” predicts that technological harms that are first visited upon prisoners and other low-privilege people will gradually work its way up the privilege gradient:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#arise-ye-prisoners

Securus powered up the Shitty Tech Adoption Curve. They don’t just spy on and exploit prisoners — they leveraged that surveillance empire into a line of product lines that touch us all. Securus transformed their prisoner telephone tracking business into an off-the-books, warrantless tracking tool that cops everywhere use to illegally track people:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/10/technology/cellphone-tracking-law-enforcement.html

In other words, our jails and prisons are incubators that breed digital pathogens that infect all of us eventually. It’s past time we got in the exterminators and flushed out those nests.

That’s where California’s new photocopier-kickers come in. Like many states, California has a Public Utility Commission (PUC), which regulates private companies that provide utilities, like telecoms. That means that the state of California can reach into every jail and prison in the state and grab the prison profiteers by the throats and toss ’em out the window.

Writing in The American Prospect, Kalena Thomhave does an excellent job on the technical ins-and-outs of calling on PUCs to regulate prison-tech, both in California and in other states where PUCs haven’t yet been neutered or eliminated by deregulation-crazed Republicans:

https://prospect.org/justice/2023-05-08-california-prison-phone-calls-free/

Thomhave describes how California’s county sheriffs have waxed fat on kickbacks from the prison-tech sector: “for example, the Yuba County Sheriff’s Office receives 25 percent of GTL/ViaPath’s gross revenue on video calls made from tablets.” Small wonder that sheriffs offices lobby against free calls from jail, claiming that prisoners’ phone tariffs are needed to fund their operations.

It’s true that the majority of this kickback money (51%) goes into “inmate welfare funds,” but these funds don’t have to go to inmates — they can and are diverted to “maintenance, salaries, travel, and equipment like security cameras.”

But limiting contact between prisoners and their families in order to pay for operating expenses is a foolish bargain. Isolation from friends and family is closely linked to recidivism. If we want prisoners to live productive lives after their serve their time, we should maximize their contact with the outside, not link it to their families’ ability to spend 50 times more per minute than anyone making a normal call.

The covid lockdowns were a boon to prison-tech profiteers, whose video-calling products were used to replace in-person visits. But when pandemic restrictions lifted, the in-person visits didn’t come back. Instead, jails continued to ban in-person visits and replace them with expensive video calls.

Even with new power, the FCC can’t directly regulate this activity, especially not in county jails. But PUCs can. Not every state has a PUC: ALEC, the right-wing legislation factory, has pushed laws that gut or eliminate PUCs across the country:

https://alec.org/model-policy/telecommunications-deregulation-policy-statement/

But California has a PUC, and it is gathering information now in advance of an order that could rein in these extractive businesses and halt the shitty tech adoption curve in its tracks:

https://docs.cpuc.ca.gov/PublishedDocs/Efile/G000/M478/K075/478075894.PDF

That’s some top-notch photocopier-kicking, right there.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A prison cell. Behind the bars is the bear from the California state flag. There is an old-fashioned telephone headset near his ear, such that he appears to be making a call.]

[pink-bear]

As Long As You’re Next to Me, Just the Two of Us (Tiziano and Squalo)

I had a dream I wrote a fanfic about these two, so I decided to make it happen >:O

Now you can have a taste of my mediocre writing!

Stuff under the cut. Characters depicted as 18+

THIS IS 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI!

It was times like these that Tiziano knew Squalo’s anxiety peaked. They had gotten the boss’ orders mere minutes ago: Take down the traitors.

They were good at their job, both knew it. But Squalo was always one to come up with the worst-case scenarios, over analyzing and getting himself worked up. And as his lover, it was Tiziano’s job to ease his racing mind.

They still had time; a little bit of relief would be good for the both of them.

With his mind made, and a fire lit in his belly, the blonde stood up from his perch on their bed and glided over to the man that was fidgeting by the window. He slid into his familiar spot wrapped in the embrace of his lover, closing his amber eyes and letting his warmth seep into his muscles. Squalo eased slightly, but Tiziano knew the edge hadn’t been taken off.

“Squalo.” he spoke finally, eyes still closed. His partner merely grunted, resting his chin on the top of his head. Tiziano chuckled, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

“As much as I would love for you to take me in front of prying eyes, I would much rather have you to myself.”

Squalo’s breath hitched, his grip on him tightening possessively. With another chuckle, Tiziano finally opened his eyes, and gazed up at his lover. They stared at each other, nearly getting lost in a sea of amber and blue, before their lips met. Despite the countless times they did this, Tiziano felt like it was the first time all over again. Many years ago…on the dock of the peer with the setting sun on their backs. It nearly brought a tear to his eye, the passion of that night had never dimmed, it only grew stronger. His other half, his soulmate was right here, and nothing but death would ever separate them.

But even then, both knew they would die for the other in a heartbeat. The afterlife would reunite them for all eternity.

A string of saliva connected the two as they broke away, and Tiziano nearly cried all over again at the sky-blue gaze of his beloved. Such a beautiful man, purer and more perfect than a Roman statue of the gods. The fire haired male traced his thumb over Tiziano’s plump lower lip, whispering endless praises to the most important soul in his life.

Their lips became tangled once more, tongues fighting for dominance as they clumsily stepped backwards towards the modest sized bed. Big enough for fit both of them, but only if they were pressed tightly together. Just how they liked it.

With an impatient growl, Squalo began to feverishly rip the clothes off the other man.

“Patience was never your strong suit.” Tiziano laughed softly, sliding out of his garments before his needy partner damaged them. He could be just as vicious and destructive as his stand.

“I can’t help it, my body aches for you.” the other man replied breathily, swiftly pulling off the cream-coloured pants that stood in the way of his prize. A Cheshire Cat grin grew on his face at the sight of his beloved not wearing underwear…how conveniently naughty.

“Mine as well, amore mio.” purred Tiziano, reaching up to undo the buckles of his shoulder pieces.

No other push needed, Squalo slid the armour off his sturdy shoulders, and lifted his shirt over his head. Tiziano licked his lips at the sight of the man’s chiseled, scar covered chest. There were many nights he would spend hours kissing every inch of his chest, paying special attention to his battle wounds, and following the trail of ginger coloured hair that traveled down his stomach to his greatest treasure. But he was feeling a touch impatient today and knew his partner wouldn’t mind hurrying things along.

Pulling his bottoms down, Squalo’s cock sprung from its confines and greeted his lover. While Tiziano was actually the bigger of the two, he much preferred having the other inside him. He had a wonderfully curved, cut cock that found his spot perfectly without fail, and oh, how it rubbed it just right. It was perfect, just like everything else about Squalo.

Like a starving animal, Tiziano dove right in and began to service his lover’s cock. His experienced tongue circled around the tip, wetting it with saliva. The other man closed his eyes and groaned, tilting his head back and resting a hand on top of the blonde’s head. With the further encouragement, Tiziano began the journey further and further down his gifted cock. Not a single millimetre was missed, the assassin was always thorough. Before long he had reached the base, with his nose brushed against the coarse finger hair of his beloved.

“Ohhh yes, mio caro, just like that…” Squalo moaned, grip tightening ever so slightly.

Tiziano groaned in satisfaction, before hollowing his cheeks and slowly bobbing his head up and down. His nimble fingers reached down to gently roll his full balls.

“Mmmm…mmngh…”

His throat vibrated around Squalo’s cock, causing the latter to groan blissfully. He sang sweet praises in Italian to his lover servicing him so skillfully, each syllable nothing but genuine. All the while Tiziano relished in the taste and natural musk of the man above him. He would spend all day here if he could, the satisfaction of pleasing his partner just as rewarding as the act itself.

Of course, both men were becoming more and more eager for the finale.

Sensing this, Tiziano pulled away with a gasp, swallowing sweet fresh air as his lover regained his composure. Their eyes met, and their lips curled into knowing smiles. It was time.

Hastily, Squalo rummaged through his bag and pulled out the bottle of lubricant. Vanilla flavoured. His eyes never left Tiziano’s as he squeezed the contents onto his fingers, rubbing them together and heating up the cool substance. Still gazing back at him, Tiziano laid on his back and spread his muscular legs apart, revealing his thick cock lazily drooling pre onto his belly, his aching balls hanging beneath, and his clenching entrance begging to be filled.

“You are beautiful as always, il mio tesoro.” Squalo hummed, prodding at the blonde’s eager entrance. With little resistance, his two fingers entered Tiziano’s core. With their healthy sex life, the sun kissed man never needed much prepping, but remained deliciously tight for Squalo’s curved cock. Regardless, the very thought of causing any unnecessary pain to his beloved was not something Squalo ever wanted, so he always took the time to properly prepare him. While one hand busied itself with Tiziano’s entrance, the other began to stroke the heavy cock that was resting on his stomach.

“Mmmm…so generous…”

Squalo chuckled lovingly, tilting his head to the side.

“My greatest purpose in life is to make you happy.”

Putting each other over the boss was certainly a sin, and both men scarcely brought it up, but they knew deep in their hearts that they were each other’s world. The boss’ orders were always final, but they did everything together. Almost like a single organism.

Tiziano sighed blissfully, letting himself be stretched and prepared for what was very soon to come. His cock twitched in the other’s hand and released sticky beads of pre.

“I’m ready, Squalo. Make love to me.”

Nodding, the red head pulled his fingers out and crawled on top of the other, locking lips like they were magnetic. A shaky hand lined the red tip of his cock with Tiziano’s entrance. For a moment they simply gazed into each other’s eyes, heads tilted and stroking each other’s soft features. Tiziano’s amber eyes flashed, signalling to continue. And who was Squalo to deny such a thing?

In one, fluid motion, the shark stand user’s cock glided in with ease. A perfect fit. Both men groaned, tilting their heads back as Squalo stayed still to simply enjoy the feeling of his beloved surrounding him in warmth. They felt like virgins all over again, just like the night on the dock.

“Move.” Tiziano hissed, which was met with a light chuckle from the other man, who did what he was told. It was slow and smooth at first, just to enjoy the velvety feeling of their union. But it never stayed that way for long.

“Faster.”

Again, doing as requested, Squalo adjusted his position and began to properly breed his partner.

“Ohhh yes, juuust like that…” Tiziano sighed blissfully, lulling his head to the side. Squalo chuckled, leaning back in to kiss his plump lips once more.

The bed squeaked beneath them, joined by the sounds skin slapping skin, and the muffled moans of both men. The outside world had continued, blissfully unaware of the two men sharing each other’s bodies in the most intimate way. This was just for them, in that moment, only they existed. Their bodies glistened with sweat, the room starting to fill with the smell of their essence and sex. It was a comforting scent, one that Tiziano blissfully fell asleep to many, many times.

“Sq-Squalo! You’re hitting it! Right there!”

Doubling down on his thrusts, Squalo let out a growl and continued to jam his cock right where Tiziano needed it most. The sun kissed man whimpered, wrapping his legs around his lover’s wide hips, only digging his cock in deeper.

“I’m close…”

“I know, I can feel you squeezing. I’m ghh-getting close too.”

“I know, I can feel you throbbing.”

Both men smiled sinfully at each other, licking their lips before kissing passionately. Their moans were muffled, but not for long. Eyes wide, Tiziano’s back arched.

“Squalo I’m…!”

He needn’t say anything more, Squalo roughly rutted into him a few more times, jabbing his prostate with the tip of his cock, before both men released in unison. It was an art they had perfected in their years together, their very souls in tune with each other.

Tiziano trembled as he felt his lover’s thick, warm seed fill him to the brim. His own cum splashed onto his toned stomach, which was a beautiful sight to the man above him. Panting, desperately trying to catch their breath, both men gazed into their watery eyes once more.

“Mio caro…” Tiziano sighed, caressing his lover’s cheek as the warmth of their afterglow washed over them like an ocean wave. The other man closed his eyes, leaning into his touch and breathed peacefully through his nose. They stayed like that for a handful of moments, still as statues. Until Squalo finally opened his eyes and glanced down at his dishevelled partner’s cum covered navel.

“Oh, Tiziano…you’ve made a mess of yourself.” he teased.

“That was your doing, mio amato.” His partner replied breathily, running a hand through his silky blonde hair. Both men chuckled, kissing one more time, before Squalo pulled out his softening cock. Tiziano whined at the empty feeling, his entrance clenching at nothing as cum started to spill out.

“I will be gone for merely a moment, I’ll help you clean up.“

Tiziano nodded, letting out a silent yawn as his partner fetched a washcloth from the bathroom. And just like he said, he was back in mere moments, and wiping off his release with the warm cloth.

“What about the sheets?” Tiziano inquired, sitting up and glancing down at the small pool of seed that had gathered on the bed. The other man snorted.

“Let the cleaning ladies handle it.”

“I suppose that is their job…”

“You needn’t worry about it.”

Lazily tossing the washcloth aside, Squalo crawled into bed and curled up next to his partner in a cat-like fashion. Both closed their eyes, Tiziano softly petting the man’s unruly ginger hair.

“We need to get going soon.” he gently reminded, causing Squalo to groan quietly.

“Ten minutes…”

Chuckling, the platinum blonde nodded.

He could do that.

🌸🌸🌸

Sorry if the Italian sucks I uSED GOOGLE TRANSLATE

[c0rpsedemon]

as a big figure collector myself i'd love to hear your hot takes

oo okay i'm going to ramble abt freeing b-styles for a bit bc it's what mfc is imploding itself over this week so they're the first thing i could think of. i think freeing's b-style line Might be the most mismanaged figure line within recent history.

the thing abt b-styles is that they have the potential to be so so so good sometimes. the siren song of "huge figure of my fave" is real and common, and it's p hard to fuck up enough to make a playboy bunnysuit look bad. but not even freeing knows what the b-style line is even meant to be, it's not their 1/4 line bc of the 10 count and i'm-being-harrassed-by-the-sexiest-man-of-the-year 1/8 scale bunnies (put a pin in those two), and it's not their bunnysuit line bc of the mikus, fate characters, touhou girls etc. which are all part of the line and yet in their canon outfits. additionally, freeing's paint jobs and sculpts have notoriously been lacking. i think gil's b-style is a good example of what i mean by this, partially bc i think it's more than safe to assume you're very familiar w him, but also bc he's the fig that made me start to pick up on b-style's common issues. i like him a lot and i want to love him but his pose looks more like that of a cosplayer replicating his iconic pose than one he's making naturally, and his face is... not the worst gil face i've seen but also farrr from the best. his shading, especially on his hair, is near-nonexistent in photos and his armor is more piss yellow than gold. and he's an average b-style quality-wise, not one of the particularly bad ones, like the marin mydressupdarling one that mfc is currently flipping its shit abt, or the melody oc w the pink hair and green lingere. b-style is prone to (and getting increasingly comfortable with) releasing figures w bad qc, minimal shading, and merely 'ok' sculpts for ~30,000 jpy (with increasing prices).

additionally, i think their rerelease policy is somewhat predatory. it used to be a widely agreed aspect of figure collecting that bare-leg bunnies are kinda really ugly but w the kirigiri danganronpa bare-leg going up for preorder, the bare-leg activists have been coming out of the woodwork under the impression that they're an oppressed group bc of their... anime figure preferences. subjective taste regarding bare-legs aside, there's no claiming that a bare-leg release is the same as a rerelease, especially when the tights being real fabric is part of the original's selling point. the few remakes that actually change something besides the tights, ie. recolors or like. tiger taiga, are always something fans want more than the og and always announced not until after people who would have otherwise skipped out on the plain version had already paid for it. it's all deliberate. if freeing doesn't do straightforward rereleases, then their aftermarkets continue to skyrocket, and they can charge more no matter how subpar their figures can be bc people have gotten used to paying insane prices for b-style bunnies.

and then there's the actual designs of the bunnysuits themselves. don't get me wrong here, freeing has done a great job on some of its bunnies. madoka and homura come to mind as some of its best original bunny designs, and they've done a great job adapting some canon bunny designs, like miku and haruhi's, percival's even came out so nice that i'm this close to playing eiyuu senki just to justify hunting her down. and i'm not even completely opposed to plain bunny designs, i adore black rock shooter's b-style and there are a lot of complaints to be had with hers if you're looking for them (she's literally had canon bunnysuits which were more visually interesting + almost all brs figures are variants of THE gsc 1/8 scale just w slight differences and this one is no exception + the combination of the two make it downright lazy). but most freeing bunnies tend to fall less into the category of 'how would this character wear a bunny suit' and more 'we put this character in a bunnysuit!' the love is war girls come to mind as an example, but there's also that one girl who always wears an american flag bikini top in her show, and who got a bikini top on her bunny but it was just plain blue, or komi, famous anime girl from a show i've never watched, who every1 briefly lost their shit over bc (allegedly) she's wayyy too shy to wear something like that and also should've been a cat and although i don't know who tf she is, i'm inclined to agree w them. you could remove the head of almost every b-style bunny and without fail it'd be hard to guess who's who. which is where some of the criticisms regarding 'hey why are there so many underage characters being made' come in, and while i think that it should be judged on a case by case basis (esp considering how bunnysuits seem to have a slightly different cultural connotation in japan vs the west), a lot of the time when underage girls' heads are thrown on the bunnysuit-clad body of what could have easily been any other adult, and when the bunnysuit takes priority over the character, i can really get where they're coming from. i want to praise bicute bunnies as being better than b-styles in regards to character > bunnysuit but tbh i think they sort of moe-blobify every1 they make but so far it's only been miku, sonico and re:zero girls so. it remains to be seen.

and this is the point where i have to cycle back to the 10 count and i'm-being-harrassed-by-the-sexiest-man-of-the-year bunnies and the fact that freeing is weird abt the concept of anyone amab being viewed as attractive, esp in a bunnysuit. i feel like bunnymen have to be one of the most highly sought-after figures by the rapidly expanding female collector-base (esp those on tiktok and youtube) and yet there are.... 4 b-styles by freeing, and all 4 are 1/8 scales instead of 1/4s like the rest of the line. more specifically, they're the only figures in the line which are less than 1/4 scale, save for one singular 1/6 that wasn't Just produced by freeing (it has 2 manufacturers listed) and seems to be a much more complicated case than any of the others so i'm just going to ignore it as the exception that proves the rule. it's almost as if ppl who are attracted to men are being de-prioritized in the eyes of freeing as lesser consumers. it's not even justifiable to say something along the lines of "oh. well clearly they were taking a risk and thus decided to go with the most popular scale" bc 1/8s are... not that. 1/7s have ruled the figure world for a while (and for good reason) but that's not what male figures would have you believe, as 1/8s are the most common scale. i just think that it says a lot for the figure line which has a gimmick of making figures that are huge going for the literal most common scale (which is also tiny) the second it comes time to make a man is. hm. freeing does have an amab nonbinary* (*i've never watched the show but the wiki uses they/them) 1/4 scale bunny coming up of rimuru from the fucking. slime isekai. but. 1. they look more like a girl in the b-style than they do in p much any other figure of them, and 2. with the extreme popularity of certain similar characters, why is this only happening now? and it's at this point where i have to turn to a question which has been bugging me since i started writing this: why is there no bridget b-style? i honest to god think that, out of the wave of bridget announcements that swept through last wonfest, freeing b-style has to be the only major figure line that didn't announce a bridget. which could mean nothing. but also there's no b-style of felix from re:zero, who actually didn't get any mass-produced figures overall so i guess she wasn't that popular in japan, poor girl, and despite the fact that my introduction to figure customization was through b-styles being made of this character, and i've never seen a b-style custom that Wasn't of this character (beyond putting tights on a bareleg or w/e), and this character notably having an alternate bunny-themed outfit, there's still no b-style astolfo. and yeah. could mean nothing. but also if it does mean nothing that's a massive loss of revenue on freeing's part. but it generally rubs me the wrong way to think abt how the only """male""" (which i say bc figure collectors can be inc transphobic at times and i doubt there's that big a gap between customer and manufacturer in this regard considering... everything) figure who isn't openly presenting masculinely allowed to be in the 1/4 scale b-style line is uhm. technically a slime. and thus isn't polluting the good pure bunnies w the presence of a penis.

also this is a nitpick but the fate b-styles are generally inconsistent and it makes me mad. gil artoria^2 in their normal outfits i get bc they're super popular but also it'd make even more sense to have mash there. a few canon fgo bunnies (scáthach artoria ruler koyanskaya) makes sense but i'll still be upset abt no saberstolfo and there's an infinitely larger audience for her than koyanskaya. and then there's chloe and illya from prillya and all i can think of is who wanted this. i mean i know who but they're proof that type-moon aren't stopping freeing from putting their characters in bunnysuits even when they don't wear them in any official sources so like. where are the f/sn heroines. why aren't there more fgo bunnies. where's nero. freeing's character decisions upset me a lot of the time.

also the marin mydressupdarling bunny is lazy and looks bad and they should be ashamed of themselves for that one.

[trumpwashere]

January 6th was a unique day in History Part I

January 6th was the greatest day that I ever witnessed in 56 years on this planet. I've never voted, never will. I'm merely a bystander and observer. I supported the Democrats for over 50 years but what they did for four years between 2016 and 2020 blows away anything that happened on January 6th. January 6th was merely a gathering of people who thought the election was stolen(of which my curiosity still hasn't been satisfied, something definitely happened, I'm wondering if it will ever come out, see comments at the end)

The only thing that upsets me about January 6th is that a woman died trying to save her country. But I can understand that law enforcement really thought they were under attack and although he overreacted, I guess anyone in a panic would probably do the same. Ashli Babbitt died an American Hero, and she should be buried in Arlington Cemetery.

For those that didn't receive the memo for January 6th, it ensured that there would be no shots fired from any Republicans being it stated that no guns were allowed at the gathering.(CNN report showed 36 guns were in D.C, 3 of them on Capitol grounds, one inside the Capitol building, owned by a police officer attending the Jan 6th protest) It's actually beyond belief that nobody brought any guns and nobody was shot. It's actually mind boggling that hundreds of people weren't shot. Republicans should be given a holiday on January 6th due to their incredibly good behavior.

( I can see all the Left Wing nuts out there now, with the blood dripping from their eyeballs over my comments. They truly are the knuckleheads of society. Unfortunatelyt they're not just knuckleheads, they're violent people that support burning buildings. They need to be arrested and held in custody until they finish their therapy sessions. They're raging maniacs that shouldn't be on the streets)

I can only commend the Republicans for what they did that day. As we all know, had President Trump won the election, the same event would've taken place except there would've been one difference. The Democrats would've burned down the Capitol and many members of law enforcement would've lost their lives that day. We are blessed that it was the Republicans that lost the election and not the Democrats. Proof positive is that it's already been 2 long years into Brandons term as president and I haven't seen Republicans burn any buildings or burn any small businesses, or murder any police officers yet. A big applause for their behavior. If I learned one lesson from Republicans it's that they always play fair when it comes to election time. I'm always waiting for them to explode when they lose, but they never do. They just go back to the drawing board time after time and regroup to make a push at the next election. They took a beating from Clinton and from Obama but they merely went back to the drawing board to put together a new plan for the next election. Applause…applause. Job well done.

But the Democrats…aye those losers are the worst losers of all time. They are so far out in front with a lock on 1st place of losers, that they'll never be rivaled in all of history, past present and future. They didn't just cry for 4 long years, they caused over $3 billion in damage across the country and they took the lives of 19 police officers in the line of duty(statistics provided by CNN) As far as I'm concerned that's where President Trump went wrong. He let Liberal Democrats burn the country down instead of placing every one of those terribly ugly haters of America in jail and tossing away the key until the next election came around. I'm hoping that the next time Republicans hold office they round up those unsavory characters one by one and bring them in for justice just like they did to the American Heroes of January 6th. They partook in criminal behavior and they need to be held accountable for what they did. Their behavior was immature and violent, and they need to pay the price for causing undue harm to good American families.

So January 6th was possibly the greatest day in American History. Why? It was Americans standing up for their country without brandishing weapons. It was heroic. It was Love for their country, Love for America. Democrats want to turn January 6th into the next release of Die Hard, yet it was more like an episode of Monty Python. I saw a guy in a viking hat sitting on the Speakers throne. I saw guys hitting people with the United States Flag….that was comedic, reminded me of Benny Hill. Then it turned into an episode of Sesame Street when I saw hundreds of Americans standing(yeah simply standing around) in the U.S. Capitol staring at the artwork on the walls and taking selfies with statues of American heroes. That brought tears to my eyes. Those people were in awe of the ground they stood on. They were amazed at the beauty of Capitol and wanted to take it all in. If the Democrats were protesting, the historic and irreplacable artwork and statues would've been completely destroyed. Again we should be thankful every day that the Republicans lost the 2020 election. If not, we wouldn't have a Capitol anymore.

The Democrats keep lumping the Proud Boys and NeoNazis in as Republicans. I think a great strategy for the Republicans would be to reach out to the Proud Boys and NeoNazi groups and ask them if they can just switch parties. Then the Democrats would have nothing to bitch and complain about. Nobody wants them in their party so they should just switch anyway. Then we can bash the Democrats for being Nazis. Not that they aren't Nazis anyway. They sure behave like Nazis and Communists. It's one month after the next where I see Democrats taking plays from the China playbook. No more freedom of speech unless it's their speech, they want to retain the right to call President Trump names but they don't want you to be allowed to call Brandon any names….again, sounds like a play from grammar school or China, take your pick.

The "Cancel" movement is directly from Nazi Germany(you could even add North Korea or China to that list) There's nothing to even discuss on that topic.

January 6th was a great day in history and it proved that you can actually have a peaceful demonstration. Hats off to the Republicans for making it happen. Before 2020 I always thought the Democrats would be the first to stage a non-violent demonstration. I waited over 50 years but it never happened. Of all things the Republicans pulled it off. Applause applause.

Now let's get to that weird election we had in 2020. The one where if you calculated how many votes Brandon would need to win after 1am, it was either mathematically impossible being there were not enough votes left or if there were enough votes left, Brandon would have to get at least 70-80% of every vote cast after 1am in order to win. And yet somehow he managed to do just that.

How did he do it? Around ten days prior to the election of 2020 I saw a story on the local Miami news that showed Port of Miami officers standing around a pallet of 100,000 fake voter IDs. I jumped up off the couch and said "Look! They're trying to steal this election right down to the last day! This is insane!" I felt like this was a great breaking story that would be all over the network news the following day, but it vanished into thin air. It was never heard from again. And it wasn't just wiped off the news of the day or week, when I go back to find it, it's been wiped out altogether. We need a real investigative reporter to dig into this and find out what happened to those fake voter IDs. Where were they being shipped to? Who were they being shipped to? Who's names were on those IDs? What states were they from? How many other ports around the country did these IDs make their way through? Where are they now? I don't care if they were going to Democrats or Republicans, but the Citizens of the United States need to know and deserve to know. This impacts the foundation of the country and how our government operates.

The Democrats preach hate to their children. The Republicans preach hate to their children. I would never teach my special needs daughters to hate people. We teach them to be wary of the freaks, and stay away from the crazies. We teach them to only love one another and always show respect for all people. You never know someone elses story and regardless of their political beliefs people are all trying to survive in this difficult world we live in. If someone is struggling in life, they just need a little help to find their way.

The MAGA people just want to make America great again. It's pretty straight forward. The only reason Democrats hate that message is because it was coined by President Trump. If Obama made it up, they'd love it. You can ask anyone that's left their country to come to America. The United States of America is the greatest country in the world, and it will always be the greatest. I just saw a man who received his citizenship in Miami. He was from Africa. When asked about how his life will be different he replied, "Now my life is good! I have nothing to be afraid of anymore! I love America!" He said it all right there, clear is a beautiful blue sky.

I know an old man who's lived in 12 different countries in his lifetime. I asked him his thoughts on America and he said, "America is still the greatest country in the world. There's nothing like coming home to America. If you rent an apartment in any third world country and even some modern countries, you'll be sleeping on concrete. When you rent an apartment in America, you're sleeping on carpet. Everything is different in America. Everything is better here."

The Democratic party has become the "Party of Hate". There's no other way to define it. Almost everything that comes out of a Democrats mouth is hate-speech. They thrive off of it, and they seem to love it. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen in 56 yrs on this planet. I coined a new term last month, we live in the Age of Hate. They'll hate you for your hairstyle, for the clothes you wear, for the sneakers you wear, for the people you associate with, for the school you went to, for the state you might be from, for the city or town you might be from. They'll hate you for absolutely anything. They'll even hate you for making noises with your mouth. You can say I love you to someone and they'll hate you for it. You can say that you don't like dog shit and they'll hate you for it. I don't know who bred these kids but they sure raised them with some weird morals. Morals that are currently getting us nowhere. Morals that create more hate in the world instead of love.

Over the last six years I noticed one main difference between Republicans and Democrats. If you show up to a Democratic rally with a MAGA hat or a President Trump hat they'll scowl you out of the event. They curse you and hate on you. But if you show up to a Republican event with an Obama hat or a Biden hat, they'll say "Come on in! Have a hot dog and a beer! You nut!"

….that relates to tolerance, which as Bertrand Russell(1952) once said “Love is wise; hatred is foolish. In this world, which is getting more and more closely interconnected, we have to learn to tolerate each other, we have to learn to put up with the fact that some people say things that we don’t like. We can only live together in that way. But if we are to live together, and not die together, we must learn a kind of charity and a kind of tolerance, which is absolutely vital to the continuation of human life on this planet.”

Oy vey did you just see that he mentioned Love is wise;hatred is foolish? And I just said we live in the Age of Hate? And I just said that everything the Democrats say is filled with hate…I think we're onto something here folks. This is definitely not a coincidence that Bertrand Russell said what he said and the current times we are living in. He's right in what he says and if we do not follow his advice it will be the collapse of this country. Which I guess is inevitable anyway. The Russian professor how predicted the disintegration of the United States was right. It's definintely coming but not for another 20 to 50 yrs or so. And we're the in-betweeners, the people that suffer through the slow change in society's behavior. It's tortuous to watch, I guess that's why I don't watch.

I turned off the news the day after Trump was elected. I saw the coverage of him swinging that Executive Order pen around and I couldn't believe what he was doing. I resolved myself and said, well he's the president and he's going to do what he's going to do. We just need to wait till the next election, same as everyone else does every 4 years. And off the TV went. I turned it back on every few months and saw Democrats still rioting, protesting, vandalizing things, and Trump was being the President. I turned it on 6 months later and President Trump was a real deal President, doing everything a President should do. I was starting to get a laugh out of him and his ridiculous behavior. Basically everything he says is hysterical, either because it's total BS or it's so far fetched it's just hilarious. So I started to laugh while the Democrats kept behaving like 14 yr old girls on the rag for the first time. They were threatening to leave the country. That was even more hilarious than anything President Trump said during his entire presidency. Too too funny. You're not leaving this country, this is the Greatest Country in the World. There's nowhere for you to go. Bitter lying celebrities. And I'm supposed to follow THEIR lead? You must be kidding me. I wouldn't trust them with my bicycle.

President Trump stayed President of the United States of American for 4 years and he didn't miss a day. He was impeached for some kind of whipped up tomfoolery that the Democrats put together. Watching that made me feel so ashamed of my country. If they had something legit I was all for it, but it was hard to watch. Again the TV was turned off. It was too painful to watch. Embrassassing. The riots got worse. I was getting annoyed now. I thought the whole plan was to make a push for the next election but the Democrats were literally enraged with HATE. It was like a nuclear bomb of hate that exploded in the United States. I don't subscribe to that behavior. I don't support that behavior. But the Democrats did and they still fully support that behavior. Unfortunately the Democrats don't realize that condoning that behavior only makes it ok for the Republicans to do the same thing when the tables turn. Again the United States is so fortunate that the Republicans have some kind of understanding of proper behavior and we're now two years into Brandon's presidency and there hasn't been any burning cities. Not even one burning building, other than the ones that the Democrats are still burning here and there in their ongoing protests, mostly in Oregon.

When the pandemic came around and Pelosi went to China Town in San Francisco in Feb 2020 and said have no fear, we're all still open, there's no pandemic, then a month later she scolds President Trump for ..I said what the hell is going on?

Tolerance is the only way

This is all Obama's fault. The Black Lives Matter movement was started during his presidency. BLM started in July 2013, that shortly after the start of his second term. Obama had all the opportunity in the world to give them a platform and work with these people to get things resolved. He should've given them a voice, Obama should've built relationships, and he should've brought the country together. But that didn't happen, Obama ignored their cries for help as one by one Black Americans were being killed left and right. In July of 2014 Eric Garner was sat on by 6 police officers and murdered on the street in broad daylight for selling cigarettes. He was unarmed. He wasn't even selling cases or packs of cigarettes, he was selling individual cigarettes. To this day that blows my mind clear off the planet. Obama did nothing. Would they have killed Mr. Garner if he was one of their uncles? I'll bet anything you want, that the answer is no.

Michael Brown was shot by a police officer and Ferguson Missouri erupted in riots that lasted weeks. Obama did nothing. He was seemingly putting fuel on the BLM fire for the next three years, setting up disaster for whoever would be the next white president. It turned out to be Donald J. Trump, and his election only added jet fuel to the movement.

Respect for thy neighbor. We don't burn our neighbors shit if we're protesting against the government. Who does that???? The Democrats.

And just last week I realized that knucklehead President Trump was right after all when he said "It's going to disappear like magic"….because it did just that. Covid-19 is gone. It's been gone since 2021. Omicron has taken over and Covid-19 and Delta virus have magically disappeared. (Omicron replaced Delta as the predominant variant, but in March 2022, the CDC still included Delta on its list of variants of concern in the U.S., even though it accounted for 0% of cases in the U.S. at that time.)Mar 1, 2022 …I bet they put it on the list because they don't want President Trump to be right!!!!! BAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! That's hilarious!

President Trump will be remembered as a hero. Regardless of the terrible spin Democrats want to put on his presidency today, there will still be plenty of books hailing him in the years to come. There will be statues, and they will be torn down. There will be monuments and they will be torn down. As I've always said, your peers will lay false judgement upon you, and the true value of your balance sheet will be weighed by future generations not by your peers. I have to say that President Trump went through more bullshit from the citizens of this country than any president since Kennedy or Hoover or Lincoln. President Trump is definitely 4th on the list of greats during tragedy, when the people were against them. But the son of a bitch just kept plugging along, one day at a time. He took on everyone. He had no choice, he stood alone. He was surrounded by traitors in his administration. But that guy never gave up. He is one crazy son of a bitch. Did you know that he got up to work at like 7am? Whereas Obama started at 11am? The White House Press Staff was super pissed off at President Trump for his early work hours. They were loving life on the Obama schedule.

President Trump never said "burn buildings" or you should be rioting in the streets. He didn't say the words that Pelosi and Kamala uttered.

They made up the story of separating children from their parents at the border and for putting them in cages. Yet those cages were made by the Obama administration because people were bitching that the children were getting assaulted and sexually abused by other immigrants that were being held. So the Obama administration built those cages so they could separate the kids from the adults and protect the children. The Democrats completely spun that on it's head and now made it out that the Trump Administration was separating families. Do you know the effort that the Obama administration had to go through change the whole process of holding illegal immigrants and create guidelines to keep them separated. That entire procedure had to be approved by Congress. Overnight all of sudden it was wrong for the Trump Administration to follow Obamas legacy? That's when I felt that this was a vendetta against President Trump, and no matter what he did they were just going to be like my father who just disagrees with me no matter what the topic is. He just doesn't want to be on my side. Even if I say it's a beautiful day he will say it looks like rain. He's just an angry old man, that once said he hates the whole world.

The system of government that we use has worked fine for 250 years. A two party system where either party's leader can only be in power for a minimum of 4 years and a maximum of 8 years offering the other side an opportunity to win the presidency again. It's worked out great for two centuries but all of a sudden when Donald J. Trump won the presidency everyone behaved like a sore loser and was happy doing so in public. Now that I think about it, that in itself has lead to this Age of Hate that we live in, where every voice has to speak up and voice how much they hate something or somebody. No shame in voicing hate speech. Again I don't see that as a good thing. I can't see how a future without tolerance can survive. The hate will just go on and on forever. It's not like it's 80% to 20%, it's 50% to 50%. This is a divide that cannot be mended by any normal means. This is something more severe. I have to assume this is a much larger movement than the 60's which panned out in a very good way. The love did spread for decades but tapered off into the 80's until where we are now.

On racism

Democrats stood up for their cause by burning buildings, and on January 6th Republicans wanted to stand up for their cause and you're condeming them for doing the same thing, yet they didn't even burn any buildings down. I'm left not understanding how you're reconciling that morality. It's hate driven logic at its core and I cannot make sense of it. That's like that commercial where the guy at the business meeting makes a suggestion, then the chief at the end of the table says the same thing but waves his hands around while saying it, and he gets all the credit. The Democrats are the chief waving his hands around. It's so obvious that I'm pretty scared every day living in this country. What I write today could be removed from the internet by a hateful millennial. It already happened to me on Youtube. I merely made a video in January 2022 and I happened to say Ha ha ha the vaccine doesn't stop Omicron. I had just heard from the 19th fully vaccinated and boosted person in my circle that they caught covid, so to me it is of my opinion that the current vaccine doesn't fully prevent Omicron infections. And I think the final proof of that fact is the supporting evidence that Brandon caught Omicron. The same guy that looked America in the face on TV and said "If you're vaccinated, you will not catch Covid". That lie surpasses anything President Trump ever said. That is by far the worst lie that's ever been spoken by a U.S. President. And it boggles my mind that that guy is still in office, and it scares the living hell out of me what the government might do to destroy any citizen of the United States, clearly there's no limit. At times, it's as if we live in North Korea.

propaganda they spread

[daily-thoughts96]

This whole roommate situation is starting to cause me to be overwhelmed and drained to the point where i don't know what to do with it anymore. My roommate seems to lack understanding of how i'm feeling in this situation. He doesn't care except for my husbands point of view on everything. Involving me just makes him pissed off and angry for no absolute reason. He talks about my husband making changes in his life, but he changed too? My husband changed for a better future, not changing who he is as a person. But my roommate changed as a person. He's not who he says he is and his behavior is beyond my imagination. You'd think therapy would be an outlet to let him know how to properly heal and approach situations. I haven't involved any friends or family in our situation until we were told he was talking to other people. He's told more than three people about the situation and yet, we've only told two friends and my sister about what is happening right now. We didn't involve anyone. We discussed how difficult life has been, but never extended into the whole situation. We kept it on the down low and thought it would be better to keep it between the people who are on the lease of the apartment. Times are tough, but our roommate made it worst. I detect his lies when he speaks about certain things. A liar to me can be spotted a mile away. When you grow up with narcissistic parents, you catch on to lies after cutting them out of your life for good. Now, i wish the situation was better, and not so gruesome, but he made it clear what his intentions are. We are starting to plan ahead with apartments, manufactured homes, or campers to decide what our next place to go is. This whole situation isn't new to us, and we are struggling with the high prices just as much as anyone else is. It's difficult and unruly. We are expected to get our life together, but the economy is screwing with that. Jobs screwing us over, or more so bosses at those jobs. We are expected to live bland, and small. No love to our home. No decor, not comfort. Nothing. We are living within our means, and sometimes we splerg on ourselves because we need a little pick me up. My husband and i aren't perfect by all means. We make mistakes. We don't have it figured out. Some people don't figure it out until they are fifty, or not even at all. My husband and i are in survival mode, and nothing compares to anything else. Would we like to be in a better place? Yes. But sometimes life is just so fucked. This roommate situation is just repeating factors. Except this time i'm being told we are using our roommate, which is wrong on all parts. Some people see using as, you refuse to pay for things. You refuse to help. But my husband and i aren't like that. We want to make sure we do our part, but right now it's not easy. My view of using a person is draining them of every penny they got. I don't ask my roommate for money to pay for our groceries. I don't ask him for money to pay for our hygeine products. I don't ask him to drive me everywhere i need to go. I don't ask him to feed my cat. I don't ask him to pay my other bills(not including rent with those bills). I know how it feels to be drained of every penny. My biological birth giver drained my husband and i of money. She never paid me to watch my siblings while she was at work. She never paid me back the money i helped with paying HER car payments and insurance. She never paid me back for buying my siblings food that she was supposed to buy. She never paid me back for the electronics i had to buy for her. She never paid me back for the wifi i was paying for. I know how it feels to actually be used. It's narcissistic tendencies. I would have had $5,000 saved in a savings account and building interest, but my adopted older sister screwed me out of that. Used me to pawn her own gain. If being paid back is more important than making sure we are actually doing okay, then you have issues. I've loaned money to my sister. And she always paid me back. She's loaned me money, and i always paid her back. I just want better..

[jet-engine]

Forgive me. I just need to rant.

So, I was off the other night, and when I came into work last night, the manager on duty came up to me like, "Hey, did you bake last night?" I said no, and she was like, "Yeah, I didn't think so."

Turns out the person who did bake - we'll call her Jane - did a crap job. Like, a real crap job. I come in at closing, so I didn't get to see all of the breads and pastries, but what I did see was just...no. The bagels looked pretty good, though. :P

The manager (she vents to me because we get along well and she knows I'll listen) brought over her phone and said, "Here, this is what I woke up to." I just laughed in disbelief. She only showed me two pictures, so I'm guessing those were the worst. The cinnamon rolls were about half the size they should have been. We proof those in the pans we bake and display them in, so I know they were too small. The pecan braids had a heavy sheet of icing, to the point where you couldn't see the pastry underneath. I don't even know how Jane managed that; it was that bad, at least in the picture. The manager got to show me the bread bowls in person, but they were so flat you couldn't even call them bowls.

Everyone kind of figured it wasn't me because I actually know what I'm doing. Also, we write down what we ate and other notes in a notebook each night, and the note for that night wasn't in my handwriting.

But, I felt really bad for the day crew. Not only did they receive a bunch of complaints about the baked goods, but the freaking district manager just happened to pick that day to pay a visit. Yikes.

And, that's not getting into the problems on my end. See, part of our baker duties is pulling certain things out of the freezer to thaw overnight. Well, Jane must not have gotten the memo. It's not that she didn't pull anything. She just pulled the wrong amount of some things and also didn't pull bear claws at all. Thankfully, bear claws and pastry rings (I was missing one of those) don't take that long to thaw, so I was able to cut and shape them, but they just don't turn out the same way. I'm just glad that I was actually looking at the pan-up (the amount of things to be made) and could go grab some more of this and another of that and groan the whole damn time. I don't know if Jane was looking at the pan-up for the wrong day or what.

She also felt the need to prep another piping bag of icing, despite the clearly labeled container in a very obvious spot, and put it in a large container all by itself. Also, it's normal to pull out a pack of brownies to thaw when the open pack is running low. It is not normal to have two full packs in the cooler at one time.

I don't know, man. I don't know.

[throwingwordsintoablackhole]

Today I was told my mother is going to die.

I also failed my driving test this morning.

And yesterday was a shitty day too (I felt like crap and my gm get pissed at me)

and now I can’t really drink it all away cause I have my period and I don’t wanna have pills and booze in my system at once.

I might drink later tonight once the pills have past through.

I’m going to loose her.

This is it.

She’s dying.

I mean-- I already lost her. Part of me still sees her in there, but just barely.

I know my mom, I can recognize her even through the grunts and groans.

Everyone is agreeing that it’d be best to just not let her suffer and let her go. Especially she’s not cognizant enough to know what’s going on.

I would if she knows she’s dying? I wonder how’d she be if she was still present? Would she be sad? Would she panic? Would she be afraid? Would she tell me she loved me? Would we actually get to say goodbye??

That’s the thing too.

I can’t even say goodbye. She’s going, she’s dying, I’m losing her, but I can’t even tell her goodbye.

Cause she left long before that.

Our last day together really was emblematic of how horrible it had gotten though.

It just sucks.

I mean I can tell her all these things. I can tell her I love her. And I can tell her goodbye. But I know think she’d even really understand.

and part of me doesn’t want her too.

God think of how fucking terrifying that would be? Like-- you’re only moments of clarity are realizing you’re fucking dying?? or worst, your LAST moment of clarity.

But no. I’m going to tell her that I love her and tell her goodbye like I always do.

Like I’m just heading home, or saying good night, and I’ll see her in the morning or on the next visit.

she won’t know what it means,but I will. And at least I will get to say goodbye in that way.

I don’t know if I want to be there when she passes.

side note; I really need fucking therapy.

I actually think I might sign up for it later today.

I also need to write that letter to fidelity and get on her thing so I can use whatever’s in her 401K to pay for all this.

god I need some therapy though.

And a drink.

I’ve been crying on and all for the last few hours.

I play a thing or watch a thing or think about a thing, and for a moment I’m not so consumed by the fact that my mother is dying.

But then there’s a moment of quiet, or a have a moment to think, and I can’t help but start to tear up.

I just sit there and let it sink in.

My mother is dying.

My mother is dying.

My mother is dying.

This is it. She is already gone and I don’t even get to say goodbye.

She’s going to be dead soon, and there’s nothing I can do to make it better.

I actually don’t want to act like she’s dying. Cause I really am scared that that moment of clarity will hit her and she’ll, even just briefly, realize she’s dying.

Honestly I think on some level she already knows.

I think maybe she’s know for a while.

But she also doesn’t know, ya know??

Like she has the pieces but she just can’t put them together.

That’s probably how it’s been for her for a while.

Actually, that’s definitely how that’s been for her for a while.

God I don’t know how I’m gonna coast through life over the next month or so.

I’m def gonna be pretending I wasn’t just briefly crying a lot lol

I sent the application into Ulta. That’s another thing I’m handling right now. Trying to like---------- fuckin---- figure out the job stuff.

I’m just so tired.

Tired and sad and a little bit heart broken and in and out of pain and def way too sober for all this.

I actually threw up this morning. Maybe it was all the salad, maybe it was the nerves-- I know it definitely wasn’t the alcohol cause I didn’t drink any cause I knew I had important stuff to do this morning.

But honestly maybe that’s why I did throw up though--- too many nerves on too full a stomach full of bad lettuce and nothing to help curb the anxiety or keep down the greens.

Even though I’m looking forward to my money stabilizing, and to going back to Ulta-- I’m still not ready to leave the pet store.

If for no other reason that I don’t want things to be over and I don’t wanna let it go.

But it is over, and I do need to let it go. I’m not gonna be able to live in 2022 anymore. I can’t go back to when everyone was still alive and things were less complicated.

....I mean they were still bad but they were at least less complicated.

I can’t go back to when the owl house was airing, or when I was able to ride high on that, or when my head was full of Huntlow and Alice and my jobs weren’t complicated and my money wasn’t complicated and my mom was still mostly there and also alive.

I mean she’s not dead yet but--- yeah...

I think the other thing is I go back and forth between things being relieving and soul crushingly ending.

where’s it’s like--- it’s almost over.

like--------

it’s still gonna be a rough few months, and I’m gonna have things to settle after the fact and things to pay off

but it’s almost over

I’m almost free.

but for right now, I’m stuck in the present.

Living through the here and now.

Because my mom is dying.

And there’s nothing I can do but wait for it to happen.

When this is all over. And I have my license and the car, I wanna go on a road trip.

I wanna take her ashes to champaign.

We talked about me spreading them there-- jokingly cause I don’t know if I can legally do that-- but I might. I’ll see how it is when I get there.

At the very least I wanna take her ashes out to Champaign.

One last road trip. Just me and her. Like it always was.

I know she’s not the spiritual type, and she’s not that sentimental either, but I think that would be nice.

Maybe I’ll get those old books on type to listen to while we drive, just like we used to listen to back when I was a kid.

Anne, and Emma and Pride and Prejudice.

I wanna find Susan. I want to let her know. She was kind of the only real friend my mother had, and her valentines card to my mother was the last piece of actual mail my mother ever got.

Not sure how to tell her my mom was already gone by that point.

I need to get it and her other things from Roxboro.

So I know where to go, know where to look, who to look for.

I think I also wanna take a day out in that garden at the hospital. Maybe that’ll be how I spend the day I lose her.

I’ve been at that fucking hospital so many times. In so many of those rooms.

I probably know that place better than some of the doctors. Definitely better than the new ones lol.

I don’t know how to end this

I’ve been typing for almost an hour.

I wanna go do all the things

but also none of the things

because my mom’s dying

and I’m so very tired and so very empty and so every sad

...end.

[livingalifeofasimp]

Yandere genshin impact boys with gn s/o who is now also an adventure like aether. Not to mention they were in relationship with him. So.....headcannon? Like I don't want where they will make aether and s/o break up. I want they to suffer! 😌 Have a great day and night!

This request really is interesting!. I hope you like ~

Warning : Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, it's purely for entertainment purpose and nothing else. It must not be romanticized in real life. Arts are not mine only the content is.

🧡ℂ𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕖🧡

➳You were just an enemy, not a strong opponent but strong enough to surprise him and is constantly improving. Your presence was a mere amusement to him or a stranger  who crossed his paths one or two times. You meet Childe when he challenges you and Aether in one of your adventures.

➳You thought he was a guy full of himself but unfortunately you and Aether got forced to work with Childe in a case, unwillingly you supported Aether's decision. Honestly you never expected to see how much he cares for the people he loves and protects them, there was so much more than he shows.

➳It changed your attitude and perspective of him. Sometimes he can be a jerk . Still, you let your guards down since you both will be working partners even if it's for a limited amount of time.

***

➥Never have Childe lost a battle so miserably in a battlefield of love. It feels way far worse than losing a battle almost like he lost his heart and himself.

➥He wasn't able to understand how his hobby of teasing and testing you turned into a habit of being near you all the time, making him addicted to your presence next to him. Everytime when you were in danger, Childe jumped in the scene to protect you, even after knowing you could handle it, without caring about his situation.

➥He should have observed how protective and lovingly Aether looks at you and what's more worst to him is that you look at Aether the same way. Not a single detail went past his observation yet, this? Maybe he never wanted to observe or know such a thing between you both.

➥He saved you, why did you run to save Aether risking your life again?, everything became clear when he saw you both hugging and holding hands. Friends ain't like that. No longer, Childe was a cheerful, determined guy like he was before. Shutting himself away from the world falling into abyss, no tears were left to cry. People who knew him got concerned about his health.

➥What a great despair he is it? His situation is so laughable not even he knew how crazy his love for you is making him. He wants to make you feel the same pain, will you be able to take it?. But how can he hurt you, he loves you so much. How can he fall in love with his friend's girl? Knowing how happy they are together and he is just an extra.

❤️𝔻𝕚𝕝𝕦𝕔❤️

➳As a foreigner in Mondstadt, you searched for a job and luckily found a vacant seat in Dawn winery, since it's only for a few months you got along with the fate, it's better than nothing, besides payment was quite high and could cover up your expenditures. 

➳You discovered that it was owned by a young man which was quite surprising to you. At first you did not have a good option on Diluc, your boss who you never actually interacted with but everyone's past eventually finds their way to other's ears and it was the same in your case.

➳What a miserable past he had gone through, not that it's your business nevertheless it changed the way you saw him. You felt bad for him when he had to work alone on holidays so sometimes you volunteered. One of the reasons was extra pay, he was a good boss to you.  

***

➥Diluc didn't knew what he was feeling for you is. Is it friendship? companionship? or love?. It was for sure that his heart fluttered every time he saw you, you made him dress nice for you and behave differently in a way you don't think bad of him, so he tried and tried, sometimes made jokes to make you laugh.

➥It was so frustrating for him to see you sad. And now after all this when he saw you with a blonde guy who came to pick you after your shift made him lose his sanity. Who is he to you? Why are you so happy to see him? You never smiled like that at him.

➥It was exactly what he thought, you had a lover before he came into the scene. Again he was left alone in the darkness, alone, he is so afraid of being alone. Tears continually rolled down his cheeks, hitting floor . Why is everything so cruel to him? What did he ever do wrong? Why can't he live happily even if just for once?

➥When his heart finally fluttered for someone and he had a reason to wake up the next morning, you disappear, making his life far more miserable than it was. But does it matter? He is as miserable as he was before, did anything even changed? Diluc falled on his knees he was a fool to think he could ever be loved.

➥What is he supposed to do with these immense feelings for you?.  Diluc is aware of how destructive it is, if he loses control then he will hurt you, you will never smile again. He couldn't bear it and he doesn't want to live in a world where he can't have you, so he destroys himself before he can destroy you, taking his breath away himself.

💙𝕂𝕒𝕖𝕪𝕒💙

➳Certainly you got dragged by your friends, after all you came back to your hometown from a long adventure. They wanted to catch up with you so how could you reject them? At the end you accepted their invitation. That's where you meet Kaeya, friend of your friends though you didn't pay him any attention because your friends kept on questioning you. 

➳It was a sunny day when you decided to run errands, buying all the stuffs that was mentioned in your list, you got tired and visted the same place, you went few days ago with your friends. You liked the cocktail, it was of your favorite flavor. The drink was fresh so you thought of ordering it again, coincidentally meeting Kaeya and slowly you both became friends, helping and making fun of eachother.

***

➥This is not what he thought would happen! This is not how it was supposed to be! Kaeya's heart broke so bad, every moment it became harder to breathe, panic rose, he couldn't help but cover his mouth. A chuckle escapes his mouth.

➥For a minute how can he even think he deserves someone like you, look at you how happy you are, you are someone else's, so pure and perfect. Why didn't he realize it earlier? Why did he misunderstood your kindness for love?.

➥Kaeya wanted to purpose you, he was willing to be loyal to only you and keep eyes only for you. So when he heard from his friends who are your friends as well that you already had a lover for years and that you love him very much, it made him depressed.

➥Kaeya sat dissolved in own his sadness, a hand slides through his chest to his jaw, turning his face towards herself attempting to kiss him. As Kaeya's vision shifts on her, he realizes she is not you. Oh how good would it be, if you were the one he was holding, kissing and hugging.

➥He can't believe he became so miserable, constantly wanting to have you to himself. Kaeya pushes her hand away, his hands holded another glass of wine as he takes it down in one gulp imagining your smiling face towards him and hearing your sweet voice which are music to him.

➥Another woman leaned towards him, Kaeya chuckled to himself how dare he dreamed about you, you deserve so much better, not someone who is as dirty as him.

➥He knows it isn't possible to forget about  you so he tries to find comfort in some other women and this time he pulled her towards him, kissing her deeply, tears falled down his eyes. Oh how good it would be if she was you. 

🖤ℤ𝕙𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕚🖤

➳By the time you went back to meet your grandma, everything around the corner changed. You were happy to be able to meet her and see all those places you used to go when you was a kid, reminiscing and meeting all your old neighbors and childhood friends. They are still as fun as they were before.

➳When you got home you saw a handsome stranger in the living room and was shocked, he didn't seem to be a guy who could harm you or your grandma, by the way where is she?. Zhongli decides to introduce himself to free you from any discomfort.

➳Then suddenly your Grandma came in with a tray of food and started complimenting Zhongli saying that he is kind enough to help her with everything when no one is here with her. You thanked Zhongli for being so nice to your Grandma. You didn't knew that your Grandma was rooting for you both because she thought Zhongli is a good guy who can keep you happy all your life.

➳Strangely you always found yourself alone with Zhongli most of the time, and when you knew why these coincidences happened, you explained to your Grandma that you already had someone and humbly rejected Zhongli.

***

➥Zhongli holded his head with his hands so hard, hoping to stop his thoughts about you. It was not his plan to love because they are gonna die anyways like his friends did. So why isn't he able to think you are dead for him. Your face, laugh, smiles and everything, even a smallest detail constantly hovers over his mind.

➥This is not what he is expected to do, but he just can't stop thinking about you and the more he thinks about you, the more sinful it becomes, desiring to tear down your perfect picture with your loved one and pull you to him. He can easily take you to himself, you will eventually love him, if you get to know him, his love, you surely will love him, right?.

➥Zhongli notices that his thoughts are becoming so corrupt, he must stop it. Zhongli threw all the expensive objects placed on the table with a shout losing his composure. Does she know how much he is going through? Tears threatened to fall down from his eyes, so Zhongli raised his head to prevent them from falling.

➥He never experienced such feelings, so much pain for not getting a chance to be with the person he wants the most. He is supposed to happily accept your decision and wish a good life for you and Aether but his heart wants to take you for himself and make you love only him; however, he must do what is right. Perhaps what's best for him is to think you are dead and grieve. Since he hardly believes he can ever stop feeling what he feels for you. He is such a fool for you.

[larathia]

TBHK Analysis: Ch. 89

First, a disclaimer/warning: I am not going to get into any discussions about p*dophelia. Anyone attempting to turn anything I state into an argument for or against this chapter being representative of such is just going to get blocked. The level of Tired Of This Motherfucking Shit that I am cannot be described without the use of a vat of pissed off black mambas and a cattle prod.

Now. On to my Thoughts:

Okay. The first thing I want to say here is to the hananene or mitsukou shippers. I want both these groups to pay attention to what’s going on here, because one of the things AidaIro are doing is setting up how mortal/supernatural relationships go in the TBHK universe. You should always be comparing how the relationship dynamics work (or don’t work) in the various ships - the writers are trying to tell you something. Each ship changes the variables a bit, and that can change the final outcome - but it’s not necessarily a given and you really should be watching closely.

That said, Yashiro was more on the money than she could possibly have guessed when she said that the main reason Sumire fell in love with Six was that the village they lived in was the absolute worst. What we’re seeing here is that actually, that was true for both Six and Sumire. Their relationship might not be recognizable as a traditional form of love...but let’s face it. Nothing about either of them, or their situation, was normal. None. Of. It. They take a degree of comfort in each other, and that is the sole piece of Not-Complete-Misery that either of them get to know. Their lives suck that thoroughly, that completely.

Six is a slave. His place is to obey, and the entire body of people that qualify as his masters are assholes. Case in point, he never even gets a name. No matter how well he executes his duties, he earns nothing in return. No praise, no kindness, no reward at all. Ever. Obedience is ...it. The sum total of his entire existence. Small wonder, then, that when he finally starts developing emotions, he can’t even recognize that that’s what’s happening never mind what those emotions might happen to be.

Sumire is also a slave, just of a different kind. It is her place to be a sacrifice, and she no more thinks of a world where she wouldn’t be, than Six thinks of disobeying an order. Her entire life is fucked up - raised in the certain knowledge that she is going to be killed for these villagers who hate and resent her, and blame her not being dead for all the ills they suffer. There is no good she can do, no kindness she can offer, that would cause any of the villagers to think of sparing her life.

And she knows it. I’m pretty sure that’s where she gets that need for control from, that desire to hold the lives of other beings in her hands. She’s setting herself up as a goddess with power over life and death, so that she can choose (if she feels like it) to be more benevolent than her captors. She makes Six into her ‘husband’...I think because that makes things more normal for her. Girls at her age often play house, with pretend husbands and children. If Six is her husband, then he’s her protector and provider and that’s...a filter that makes things more bearable, given he IS supposed to protect and provide for her. It’s a sanity side-step; a way of looking at things that lets her be something other than a complete ball of hate and rage at the one being in the whole village who isn’t hateful to her, doesn’t lie to her, and isn’t cruel to her. Because let’s face it, the reality is that Six has the job of raising, protecting, and tending to her specifically so that she can be killed at the proper time. Like raising a chicken for a later dinner, his job is to see she’s fed and healthy and grows up such that she can have her neck snapped later, and it wouldn’t do to let the foxes get to her first. Sumire instead chooses a fantasy that lets her not see Six as the enemy.

But she’s still got hate and rage for the entire situation she’s in - who wouldn’t? - and it goes into playing god over the little helpless animals she finds. The little helpless animals are her surrogate for the other villagers, who have put both of them into this position.

That she asks to be intimate with Six on her last night alive, I took to mean “could I at least have something that connects me in a positive way to another living being before I die”. That Six didn’t understand is...well. Understandable, given how little Six understands of human nature - at least, the more positive aspects of it.

Six actually might have saved her, if she’d asked, but he wasn’t ready to do so independently. He didn’t really know what to do with these new emotions. (Might well still not know.) The only request Sumire made was that indirect expression of desire for the villagers to suffer after she was gone. That wish, he granted.

I think it’s worth noting here that Six spared the children, but didn’t tell them why he’d spared them. I suspect he spared them because they reminded him of Sumire when she was first given into his care; they hadn’t done anything wrong (yet). And in terms of canon, it’s worth noting the children were all making wickerwork baskets, much like those later associated with Six’s legend at the school. Six is setting up (and trying to maintain) the Severance for the children of the school, the ones that might be like Sumire if they don’t have to die.

And it is also worth noting that this entire tale isn’t just Six feeling nostalgic. He’s telling this story to Aoi. He’s explaining himself to her. The girl of the Akane line...the girl that looks quite a lot like Sumire, and who is being asked to die like Sumire. We may or may not get to see it next month, but sooner or later we’re going to get to see how Aoi receives all this sudden knowledge.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

*****************

Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.