#unfortunately their world is garbage

[dragonpropaganda]

The Architecture of Rain World: Layers of History

A major theme in Rain World's world design that often goes overlooked is the theme of, as James Primate, the level designer, composer and writer calls it, "Layers of History." This is about how the places in the game feel lived-in, and as though they have been built over each other. Here's what he said on the matter as far back as 2014!

The best example of this is Subterranean, the final area of the base game and a climax of the theme. Subterranean is pretty cleanly slpit vertically, there's the modern subway built over the ancient ruins, which are themselves built over the primordial ruins of the depths. Piercing through these layers is Filtration System, a high tech intrusion that cuts through the ground and visibly drills through the ceiling of the depths.

Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets, the friendly local ghost, tells the player of the "bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks," highlighting this theme of layering as one of the first impressions the player gets of Subterranean. Barely minutes later, the player enters the room SB_H02, where the modern train lines crumble away into a cavern filled with older ruins, which themselves are invaded by the head machines seen prior in outskirts and farm arrays, some of which appear to have been installed destructively into the ruins, some breaking through floors.

These layers flow into each other, highlighting each other's decrepit state.

The filtration system, most likely the latest "layer," is always set apart from the spaces around it. At its top, the train tunnels give way to a vast chasm, where filtration system stands as a tower over the trains, while at the bottom in depths, it penetrates the ceiling of the temple, a destructive presence. (it's also a parallel to the way the leg does something similar in memory crypts, subterranean is full of callbacks like that!)

Filtration system is an interesting kind of transition, in that it is much later and more advanced than both of the areas it cuts between. This is a really interesting choice from James! It would be more "natural" to transition smoothly from the caves of upper subterranean to the depths, but by putting filtration system in between, the two are clearly demarcated as separate. The difference in era becomes palpable, the player has truly found something different and strange.

Depths itself is, obviously, the oldest layer not only of subterranean but of the game itself. The architecture of Depths has little to do with the rest of the game around it, it's a clear sign of the forgotten civilisations that our friend Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets showed us, there's not actually that much to say about it itself, it's mostly about how it interacts with the other layers of subterranean.

That said, Subterranean is far from the only case of the theme of layers of history. It's present as soon as the player starts the game!

The very first room of the game, SU_C04, is seemingly a cave. It is below the surface, the shapes of it are distinctly amorphous rather than geometric. (well. kind of, it doesn't do a very good job of hiding the tile grid with its 45 degree angles.)

But let's take a closer look, shall we?

See that ground? it's made of bricks. The entire cave area of outskirts is characterised by this, the "chaotic stone" masonry asset is mixed with brickwork, unlike the surface ruins which are mostly stone. This, seemingly, is an inversion of common sense! The caves are bricks and the buildings are stone. This is not, however, a strange and unique aspect but a recurring motif.

This occurs enough in the game for it to be clearly intentional, but why would materials such as bricks be used in otherwise natural looking terrain?

The answer lies in the "Layers of History" theme. This is in fact, something that happens in real life, and it's called a tell

To be specific, a tell is a kind of mound formed by settlements building over the ruins of previous iterations of themselves. Centuries of rubble and detritus form until a hill grows from the city. Cities such as Troy and Jericho are famous examples. The connections to the layers of history theme are pretty clear here, I think. Cities growing, then dying, then becoming the bedrock of the next city. The ground, then, is made of bricks, because the ground is the rubble of past buildings. The bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks!

[clarkgriffon]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER 7x01 | “Lessons” 

[oaksapling]

Fortune

[stergeon]

at some point i will figure out how to write the post-canon, post-empire edelgard autonomy fic of my dreams. it just feels like a very big task and maybe like with playing the dane, i’m simply not old and traumatized enough to manage it yet.

but my vision is thus: it’s set years (realistically, decades) after the end of crimson flower, when everything has gone as right as it can possibly go. fódlan is thriving. the social reforms have taken effect. the nobility system is nearly eliminated, if not entirely so, with titles made merely symbolic. social mobility, welfare, and prosperity are high. there’s an explosion in arts and culture and technology. brigid and duscur have gained independence; relations with sreng and almyra are much improved; heck, maybe they've even figured it out with dagda. in my most idealistic version, leicester and faerghus would eventually be ceded back to become autonomous regions, essentially disbanding the adrestian empire. rule is no longer hereditary, but merit-based. there's a roadmap for the future, and everything is on track—and more than that, people at all points on the power spectrum have already seen it bear fruit. with or without edelgard, it will be pursued. there's buy-in. they believe.

of course, it's not perfect—nothing can be—but edelgard's vision has been fulfilled. the people are empowered. humanity is free. fódlan has healed.

and somehow, she's had enough time to resolve her goals outside of politics, too. those who slither in the dark have been eradicated. edelgard and lysithea's second crests have been successfully removed, allowing them to live if not full lives, then substantially longer ones than they would have with their twin crests intact. who knows—maybe she finally gets around to having that wedding.

point for point, every item listed in edelgard's manifesto has been checked off. the ghosts of her past have been laid to rest. she can finally take off her crown. she can finally pursue the quiet, humble life she's wanted for so long. she can finally breathe.

... but can she?

edelgard is nothing if not driven. her intelligence, vision, and sheer willpower allowed her to plan and execute a revolution against two countries and the most powerful institution on the continent, all while she was still a teenager. as royalty, her life was never truly hers even before she became heir to the adrestian throne, with all the additional baggage of survivor's guilt and the desire for vengeance and her need to ensure nothing that happened to her can ever happen to anyone else, ever again.

so what happens when that drive has no outlet? what happens when someone who has been constantly in motion, constantly working and planning and preparing every spare second of every day since she was fourteen years old, suddenly has to stand still? what happens when someone whose hands have been bound for so long—first literally in the dungeons of enbarr, then by the weight and responsibilities of her crown—is set free?

being edelgard, she would step away from the throne, no matter how hard it was for her to give up control. she's always been focused on the endgame, and she knows that if she doesn't let go, she'll be setting the wrong tone for fódlan's future. she's too devoted to that endgame to cling to power much longer than she needs to, though i could see her making some excuses and trying to iron out just a few more things to buy herself some more time to mentally prepare before she's done for good.

but who would she be then? who is the woman without the crown? what becomes of a machine once it is no longer needed, when it has made itself obsolete? what about when that machine is a person with legs and arms and an innate unwillingness to gather dust on a shelf?

what happens when you get everything you want? what happens when all your wanting has been for others to thrive, and now you have to want only for yourself? how do you discover who you are when you've spent decades being everything for everyone else? how do you find meaning again? how do you find purpose?

after a lifetime of devotion and passion and movement, how do you learn to sit with yourself, and be quiet, and be still?

gosh, i would love to meet her. i would love to pick her brain. but boy, i do not envy the work that girl has to do.

[crowcryptid]

do u think people would be less stupid about ai if it was called something else

Like if they knew it wasn’t “smart” and is instead plagiarizing would they stop worshiping it so much

Then again the people who are into it are nft cryptobros and very real business™️ people with real jobs that definitely aren’t fake (cough) who just want to fire anyone to save .1% of the company budget

so they’d probably fall for it anyway

It just seems like people are getting the wrong idea :p

[lonelysheepling]

“Have you been drawing lately?” No I’ve been mapping out an incredibly complex route for obtaining every colored pearl in the artificer campaign for rain world on my 97.47 X 42 inch procreate file which has about 21.5 hours of tracked time on it

[badolmen]

Love me a character that at their core is selfish. Even when they do good things it’s selfish and personal but still genuine because they believe in what they’re doing even if they’re only doing it for themself.

Anyways I failed to make a charismatic and likable BBEG he’s a lower tier villain who gets semi-domesticated instead.

[opiazapine]

How I almost committed aggravated assault with a deadly weapon

He wanted me to put this shit on and this mfer lucky he only saw a hot school girl uniform and didn't recognize the anime it's from. Instant divorce narrowly avoided

[everfaye]

I showed a bunch of 5 year olds how to make cootie catchers today. talk about big miss steaks

[qqueenofhades]

Obviously the main contrasting narrative of the Harris campaign is (rightfully, the ads almost write themselves!) prosecutor vs convict. But I keep thinking about how, in one of her first campaign speeches, she had Biden on the phone and he said something like "I'm here, I love you Kid" and she said "I love you too" and just... That compared to the Jan 6th Mike Pence situation. Like this election is about democracy over fascism but it's also about love and kindness and sincerity on the level of person-to-person relationships.

Well... yeah. As Minnesota governor Tim Walz put it when he was doing the TV rounds for Kamala the other day, the Republicans are just weird people. They are mean, petty, reactionary, focused on revenge and retribution and making people suffer, their rhetoric is about shame and violence and punishment, they are all about Who Your Enemy Is, and their drift into ever more extreme fascist positions is a reflection of that. And strongman/fascist authoritarianism is often popular during moments of chaos and upheaval in the rest of the world, because the unknown feels so scary and people keep falling for the lie that a helpful dictator strongman will turn up and make it all better. It never happens, but it is a powerful lie and it can work for several years at a time, as we have (unfortunately) seen. (And Tim Walz is definitely climbing the list of Old White Guys I Like; supposedly he is on Harris' initial VP shortlist, and while I certainly have favorites of my own, she could very much do worse.)

However, and this is why fascist movements always plant the seeds of their own destruction, this constant garbage spew of hate and vitriol never ever works forever, and usually not even all that long. Because once you spend your time destroying everyone else on your mean stupid crusade of mindless bigotry, you lose friends, you alienate the ordinary people who are more interested in having something to be FOR rather than just constantly against, and eventually you eat your own. And while it will shore up your ever-dwindling cult base, it will not be able to expand beyond the people who are already fully indoctrinated, and it will lose more people than it attracts. As I have said before, one of the key tenets of fascist movements is presenting themselves as powerful, inevitable, and almighty: just surrender to them now before We Crush You (tm) later! But they are not! They are goofy, stupid, mean, and just plain (thanks Gov. Walz) WEIRD! Nobody wants to be those guys!

So yes. With the whole fact of a party where one guy tried to get his first VP killed and now has picked another reactionary loser who is the least popular VP pick in 50 years, and the other is joyfully supporting his VP, a woman of color (after serving loyally to the first Black president, Biden has set the way for the -- knock on wood -- second, and that is also amazing), it's really easy to see the difference, and very clearly, people do. Kamala offers something to rally FOR, and that is always, always more powerful than mindless hate. Sucks to be the GOP. (As usual.)

[here-there-were-dragons]

i feel like the entire way we conceptualize “adult vs children’s” content is assbackwards, because in my experience the type of content people are drawn to and indeed even capable of processing or fully recalling at all seems to noticeably decrease in complexity, realism, originality, and “darkness” or “inappropriateness” or whatever you’d like to call it, ect, with age. and that’s not just me taking a single static look at people as they are in this moment right now either, i’ve noticed this happening in general over most of my life. children are much more prone to enjoying complex, gritty, violent, ect content, while adults increasingly become unable to enjoy or even process anything but safe fisher price kiddie cartoon level things. consistently i’ve seen a pattern where around 20-40 everyone either starts experiencing a marked decrease in the ability to process and enjoy anything else, or loses the ability to participate in “fun” things like that entirely. it’s not children that like children’s media, it’s adults. people seem to mentally peak in the “able to comprehend complexity of this type” department around age 14-17. even porn kids past a certain age are usually way more into than anyone wants to think!

at least that was until the zoomers came along and decided it would be great to become the next wave of boomers and now they’re all running around trying to burn eachother at the stake for watching anything for any reason other than to absorb the Proper Approved Morality Plays for their daily sermons, but only those deemed appropriate for your exact age (up to a certain point at which point you are expected to never again interact with fiction or recreation at all lest you become a secret predator).

[feministfang]

Three brave women beat up a shopkeeper in islamic republic of Pakistan for harassing them and all the Pakistani men are so pissed off that they’re sending death threats to those women for taking action in their own hands instead of tolerating and calling some male authority or police. That piece of shit also filed a case against those women for abusing him and as a citizen of this trash country, i can tell he will win the case.

A 20 years old girl, Sania Zehra, was brutally tortured, raped and murdered by her husband, syed ali raza bukhari, when she was pregnant with her third child. This also happened in Pakistan on 8th of July. Now the same men are silent over this or trying to shove the issue of Palestine on feminist pages posting about Sania’s case because "far worst things are happening in the world". Meanwhile, Pakistani women are busy dick worshipping the victim’s father because "he must be so traumatised after losing his daughter like this. oh poor man!" As if that bitch isn’t at fault for making her daughter marry that old beast when she was probably 16.

Celebrities here are more concerned about men’s deteriorating mental health in this country as these lunatics think catering to men’s feelings will somehow fix them. What else can you expect from them when the entire world outside has progressed, but these dumbfucks are still portraying the same old cringe fairytale stories where a simple beautiful, but unfortunate girl falls in love with some ugly psychotic man and tolerates his abuse because "that’s true love 😍" and in the end, she’s successful in fixing him.

But when we speak a word against the atrocities women face in this country, all these people lose their minds and try to silence us to ensure the image of their fuckin country is not at risk of defamation and the lovely Pakistan can become an example of how peaceful islam is. Pakistani men (and most women here as well) are intolerant when it comes to the vilification of the image of their country and religion. And their asses start burning when they see someone ruining it. They even stoop so low to the level of satanism that they would not hesitate to send death threats to anyone making them look bad globally. A girl i was friends with on FB wished Malala another gunshot on her face by Taliban because of her anti-marriage stance.

This is why i urge y’all to please don’t stay silent on the issues women are facing in Pakistan. I never see global feminist pages talking about female oppression in this garbage country. Some feminists living in west also act like brown men are somehow better than white men and they’re more oppressed than white women because of racism, or that muslim men are better than christian bigots. Stop victimising brown muslim men. Not only are they hideous but also the misogyny the south asian society has shoved in their assholes is extremely disgusting and they keep shitting it on women everywhere they go, including white women.

I wouldn’t expect support from brainless libby feminists as they’re probably busy pulling their pants down on their favourite OF platforms or fighting misandry online, but i would love to see all the radfems speaking up for south asian women. Please make it known globally how the Pakistani islamic community is constantly oppressing women day by day.

Use the examples i stated above. Speak up for Sania Zehra!! Demand justice for her globally, and keep bashing corrupt Pakistani law system. Also, don’t forget to defame their religion. These people are most protective of their culture and religion. I don’t see any hope in this country for women, but there’s a chance they will start taking action and give proper justice to the victims in order to protect their so called dignity.

[deadhands69]

Something More [than burns]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn reader

MDNI + eventual smut/afab

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers.

Warnings, etc: series contains eventual smut, slight angst, light violence/injuries but it's bnha soooo, drinking/intoxication, swearing.

This is part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Earlier today, you would never have dreamed you’d be stuffed in a closet with your rival, Katsuki Bakugo. Nor would you ever have imagined you’d enjoy that. But being here, pressed against his chest with his arm wrapped around you - it could be a lot worse. 

Yesterday Morning

It felt like nothing could go right. You overslept, waking up groggy and angry at the world. Your shoelace broke, you dripped toothpaste down your shirt, your phone died on the charger (hence the lack of alarm to wake you), and the weak coffee you chugged on the way out of the dorms did absolutely nothing to improve your mood. 

That’s all before walking into the classroom.

Earlier in the week, you were assigned a term-long project detailing your partner’s quirk. Pros, cons, good/bad match-ups, how your quirks work together, what you could learn from them to improve your own progress. You hoped for Izuku Midoriya, with his notebook full of information already, but you were paired with Katsuki Bakugo. 

Aizawa must hate you.

The two of you had never gotten along. Sure, he was warmer towards his friends, who he'd known for years, but never with you. That’s fair though, you also hated everything about him. You hated how cocky he would act. His stupid face when he thinks he’s right. How he always got away with his bullshit. You hated the way he treated the girls who swooned over him (all because he defeated some nerfed villain a while ago.) Then, you hated him even more when you saw the constant stream of faceless fangirls being shuttled in and out of his room in the middle of the night like no one noticed. Most of all, you hated the lack of respect he always had for you.

Unfortunately for you both, the assignment would involve a lot of back and forth, questions, explanations, etc. Considering the relationship you had with your partner, the two of you opted to work on your pieces alone, exchanging in the mornings. And, well, it’s the morning. Time to interact.

“Hey, Backfire. Ya get that work done?” (he’d always chosen to call you this, over your hero name “Echo.”)

“Yeah,” you handed him the paper detailing what you’ve observed about his quirk in practice.

He barely looks over it before adding his critique, “this is garbage. That part’s bad too. Are you trying to make me sound weak? Not like your shitty quirk is that great. Redo it.”

Not happening.

“If you have a problem, why don’t you do it then? Here’s a pen, there’s the paper. Be my fucking guest. Tell me alllll about how amazing the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite is,” your biting words saccharine sweet as you pretended to fawn over him, “or should I just ask the girls lining up to crawl into your bed every night to write it?”

“What, jealous? God, you need to get laid. It’s a shame no one pities you enough to help out with that,” he responded with fake sympathy.

This wasn’t too far from a normal conversation between the two of you. Any other day, you thought. Any other time and maybe you could put up with his shit. 

But absolutely not today.

Before you could think, you smacked him. Hard.

A hush fell over the class as everyone watched for his reaction. Your next move.

To be honest, you surprised yourself with that one too.

You were always the “good kid.” Maybe standoffish and mouthy but you got good grades, always turned your homework in on time, and, mostly, tended to follow rules when it mattered.

But the bigger elephant in the room: no one actually fucks with Bakugo. Sure you’d all throw his words back at him and argue but physically? Between his strength, personality, and explosive quirk, no one touches him.

His face reddened in anger, hiding the puffy pink outline your hand left. “Do you wanna die??” he yelled before Aizawa shuffled to his desk in his yellow sleeping bag to start class.

Class went by as usual, despite the lingering tension in the air. Before you knew it, it was over. The teacher said something about randomly assigned partners for sparing in the morning then set you free. 

“Do it better,” Bakugo asserted, shoving the paper back at you. The imprint of your fingertips still dotted his face. 

“Fine, as long as you fix your half too. I am not getting a bad grade because of you,” you spit the words out like they would burn your tongue if you held in thoughts of him any longer. 

The rest of the afternoon, you stared at a blank sheet of paper. No matter how hard you tried, the words just wouldn’t show up. At seven, you gave up and went to Jiro’s room to hang out and watch music videos while discussing what you’d wear to Mina’s friend’s party the next day.

This Morning

Aizawa’s monotone voice carried through the training area. “We’ll be sparing today, as mentioned yesterday the matches are already set - the list is posted on the door. If you have an issue with it, don’t bother me. Otherwise, find your partner and make a plan.”

“The fuck,” you exclaim upon seeing your name next to Minoru Mineta’s with a match against Katsuki Bakugo and Shoto Todoroki.

The team pairings were randomly drawn from a hat but the matches were chosen. Aizawa must still be set on making your life hard when he made the list.

It would have been hard anyways, it’s not a fair fight. They’re the two strongest in the class and you were paired up with the weakest. They’re also both assholes when it comes to things like this so you know they won’t go easy on you. Not that they should. Your rebound quirk sends their attacks back at them, making you a difficult match for anyone who relies on their quirk. Generally, most of the class you are sparring against are resilient to their own powers to an extent so they aren’t at risk of being massively injured but that doesn’t make it any easier for them to take you down to win. You typically just have to stay out of the way. However, using your ability takes focus. With years of practice, you still weren’t sure if you’ll be able to go up against them both at once. And Mineta wouldn't be much help. 

In spite of the difficulty, you’d still have to give it your all. You’re lucky you even got into the hero course, honestly. Getting the points in the UA University entry exam wasn’t easy. Interfering with other potential students to bounce their quirks at the fake villains allowed you to scrape by. 

“Match one, get in place,” Present Mic’s voice rings through the building. 

Preparing on the other side of the room, your rivals didn’t look happy being paired with each other either. 

“We just have to get the flags off their belts,” you mumble down to Mineta, “throw your balls to trap them and I’ll walk up and take them. Oh, and don’t-” you pause, thinking of the last time you worked with Mineta on anything, “don’t do anything weird.” 

“And go!”

Immediately, Minetta covers the hall behind you in sticky purple balls. You rush to the other side, taunting them to chase you. 

“Hey, Todoroki, what’s this I hear about Endeavor in the news? You must be so proud, right? Come over so I can congratulate you!” 

The air cools around you, got him. Gliding with his ice, he rushes towards you before getting stuck on the trap you’d set. He immediately shoots a stream of ice, pinning your sparring partner to the wall.

You’re on your own now. That’s fine. It’ll be 1v1.

You turn to take Todoroki’s flag but only find his shoes. He’s in his socks, taking Mineta’s instead. You can still win this, you think. You’ll just have to be smart. 

Seeing a corner, you decide to duck into it. This will allow you to bounce back any attacks head on until they tire out. 

Red and white hair blurred towards you before the room froze. By focusing your quirk, you were able to shove his ice back ten while he attacked. You noticed his feet slide slightly back as well from the recoil. What you didn’t notice was Bakugo dropping behind your back and blasting you point blank into a wall of ice.

This Afternoon

“It’s because he hates me,” you groan. 

Recovery Girl had revived you, after mending quite a few broken bones and burns. She was still baffled by how beat up you came in from a “friendly” class match. A broken arm, two fractured ribs, burns on both wrists, and the entire back of your hero outfit had been blasted off, leading to even more burns.

“Hate is a strong word, he’s your classmate. I don’t think he hates you,” she continued while bandaging your arms.

“Definitely feels like it,” you mumbled looking down at your wrapped up limbs.

Once she finished patching you up, she told you to stay here for the day to rest then take it easy the next few days. She was leaving to visit family over the weekend but your condition is stable enough. You slept through the rest of the afternoon.

Earlier Tonight

9:05pm, the numbers on your phone illuminate the dark room.

Your hero costume had been sent in for repairs. Fortunately, your best friend has an extra key to your room. Jiro dropped off one of your hoodies and a pair of pants while you slept. She texted that she didn’t want to wake you but she’d see you at the party later tonight if you’re up for it. You pull the clothes out of the bag and get dressed, carefully avoiding your sore arms.

Feeling rested enough, you texted her back that you’d be there before throwing your boots on and heading out. 

In the dim waiting area, a black clothed figure was slumped over the chair. He begins to stir and rubs his blonde hair out of his eyes as you pass before he jumps up to follow you.

“Let me guess, is apologizing and walking me home your punishment?” you ask.

“Yep,” Bakugo responds.

“Got it,” you say walking out the door. The cold winter air burns your face.

After a long pause, he began to apologize. “I really am sorry though, I didn’t mean to actually hurt you. I should have known better and that’s on me,” his words puff out in clouds.

“I just figured it was because I slapped you yesterday.”

“It wasn’t out of retaliation,” he pauses before continuing, “I’m really not that mad about you hitting me. I mean, I was mad, but more shocked than anything. No one in our class ever treats me like that.”

“Well, someone has to. It’s one of the things I hate the most about you - people just let you get away with anything. It’s infuriating.”

“Hey, that is not true.” he side eyes you, “also, the thing you hate the most about me is how other people treat me? Really? That’s not even about me.”

“No, the thing I hate the most about you is how you treat me.”

“Well, someone has to,” your words felt icier thrown back at you.

As the conversation slipped to silence, you realized this was the first time you’d ever spoken to him alone. He almost seemed sincere, but you still weren't friendly. The rest of the walk continued like this. The dead air between you grew in tension until you reached the building. 

“Hey, you’re friends with Raccoon Eyes too. So you’re heading to that party off campus, right?” he asks, while you walk to the stairs.

“Mina’s friend’s party? Yeah I’m going.”

“I’ll walk you there. We can talk about our project on the way. Besides, everyone else has already left.”

You nodded, not having any excuse.

“Meet you here in twenty.” 

Fixing your makeup and hair took no time and you even added a little extra eyeliner. Clothes were another story.

Here’s the issue: all of the cute outfits you’d discussed wearing earlier in the week didn’t work unless you wanted to show off your massively bandaged arms. Out of time, you panicked throwing on a baggy long sleeve shirt with the skinny jeans and boots you were already wearing. Grabbing your sweatshirt to throw over the top, you ran out the door. Frumpy but at least no one would ask questions.

“Wow, it’s like you didn’t even try,” his voice calls out from the lobby.

“Oh, fuck you Bakugo! Half my body is covered in gauze because of the burns you gave me. Nothing looked cute.”

“You’re talking to someone who is covered in scars. No one cares. Besides, if anyone does say shit about it, I’ll kill ‘em. I owe you that much.”

"You covered the scars on your arm with tattoos though, doesn't count."

Ignoring this, Bakugo’s red eyes looked you up and down once more before running up the stairs past you.

“Now come on, Backfire, I’m not walking into a party with you if you look like that. Let’s pick something else.”

“Oh, treating me like one of your arm candy girls now? So fucking sweet of you,” you rolled your eyes but still followed him back up the stairs.

“If you were 'one of my arm candy girls', I wouldn’t have to drag you back to your dorm to change. Have to say, this is a first.”

“Ughh speaking of which, it’s ten - shouldn’t you be hooking up with someone by now?”

“Pretty hung up on that, huh?”

“On the way you treat women? Yeah, you’re disgusting.”

“Am not. I’m not leading anyone on or making anyone do anything.” 

“What if they end up wanting more?” you asked while pulling out your keys.

“Then I ditch ‘em, like I said I’m not leading anyone on.”

“Wow, you’re such a gentleman. Bet that’ll never come back to bite you.”

As you flipped the light on in your room, you were glad it’s relatively clean. Except for the pile of clothes you’d created on the bed but it’s not like you were trying to impress him of all people. 

Not missing much time, he practically dove into the discarded items you’d tried earlier. “This is cute,” he said holding up a tiny tank top, “and this one. I didn’t even know you owned stuff like this,” he said before handing you a stack to try. 

You almost commented about not wanting to take fashion advice from him before you realized actually looked good. He was wearing a grey jacket, tight black v-neck, and pants that fit really well. Fuck him.

Carefully, you put on the first shirt before looking up at the mirror. It’s a strappy black crop top. You bought it online over the summer but so far you hadn’t had the occasion (or the confidence) to wear it anywhere. The outfit, as a whole, looked cute but it really contrasted with the white cloth wrapped around your arms. 

“I look like a mummy,” you said as you walked out of the bathroom to show him.

Saying nothing, his eyes analyzed you. “No, that’s the outfit,” he said, continuing to stare critically, “do you have a sweater or something?”

“Yeah,” you said while picking a thick oversized grey cardigan, “you sure I don’t look like a little kid on halloween?” Why are you even asking his opinion, he’s probably just fucking with you. 

“No, you don’t,” he laughed.

The walk off-campus wasn’t the worst. He seemed to genuinely feel bad for hurting you so he got every door for you (which felt uncharacteristically nice but you decided not to get used to it.) You brought up the project from class and after a quick discussion, you both agreed it would be good to work together on it. Phone numbers were exchanged and you decided to meet tomorrow on “neutral territory”, the library. It wasn’t until you walked in the door of the house, that you realized the two of you were accidentally matching. 

Not wanting to look like Bakugo’s date of the night, you split off fairly quickly and found Jiro and Mina outside. 

“Hey, [y/n]! How are you feeling?” Jiro yelled before hugging you.

“I”m okay - thanks for dropping off clothes, that was a lifesaver!” you turned to give Mina a hug as well, “thanks for the invite! This party is awesome.”

“Of course! You should grab a drink and catch up to us!” Mina slurred back. You turned when Jiro grabbed your shoulder. 

“Oh. And as a heads up, Mineta’s been looking for you,” Jiro mumbled under her breath.

“Thanks for the warning!”

He probably just wanted to recap after what happened in class today. That could wait until Monday - he could be tolerable in moderation when he was sober, but dealing with Mineta after a few drinks? Absolutely not. You made it three steps through the door when a glint of purple entered your peripheral vision and you booked it. Rushing between people, you ran down a hallway.

Now

Seeing a door to your left, you take a chance. You reach for the handle when it flies open and you collide with Bakugo, who is also cramming himself in what you’re now realizing is a closet. His arm wraps around you, pulling you against him to shut the door.

“Ouch, fuck,” you grumble after he grabbed the still raw burn on your back. Shifting back slightly, you hit a bunch of coats, leaving you pressed into his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing in here??” his hushed voice interrogates you.

“Hiding, obviously!” you respond in a whisper.

“Hiding from what?” 

“Mineta. I think he wants to talk about today but.. Ugh I can’t deal with that little creep right now.”

Upon further thought, being in a closet with Bakugo isn’t ideal either.

“You know what, I think I’ll take my chances,” you begin to press the door open when he grabs your hand.

“No, you don’t. If you open this she might see me.”

“She? Who's ‘she’??” 

“A girl in the support course. It’s so fucking stupid. I hooked up with her last week, now she thinks we’re dating.”

“So you’re hiding in a closet? So much for being direct and not leading anyone on.”

“Oh, I forgot. You’re just sooo much better than me. I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” he shifts against you, “you know what, fuck it. I’m going out there.”

“Wait!” you whisper yell at him, fighting the urge to say you told him so, “fine. I’ll drop it. Now wait a few minutes, if you open this door, I’m sure Mineta will still be lurking around.” 

“Fine.”

Taking a deep breath, for the first time since entering the closet, you become acutely aware of how good he smells. He smells clean, like laundry and shampoo, but there’s another smell. Something more subtle that really draws you to him. Not that you could be drawn much closer. In this tiny space you feel the warmth of his body, the movement of his breathing. His arm still wrapped around you. This isn’t so bad. What the fuck are you thinking?

Bakugo breaks the long silence.

“This is the worst game of seven minutes in heaven,” he jokes, in an attempt to break the tension.

“No, it could be worse. Last year I got shoved in a closet with Denki. He was wasted and pretty handsy.”

“Really? I can’t picture you playing that game, you seem-”

You laugh, “I seem what?”

“I dunno, like you’d be too good for that or something.”

“Too good for that?”

“Yeah, like. You don’t even date,” he responds.

“You don’t date either.”

“You know what I mean. You’re basically asexual.”

“Oh my god, I am not,” you reply, “ I’m just busy, that’s all. I’d love to have more fun but it takes a lot of work to keep up in school. My quirk’s not all flashy like yours.”

He pauses. 

“None of this is easy,” you almost feel like you’re imagining things when his thumb subtly rubs your shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m hard on you because I didn’t think I’d beat you otherwise.”

“I’ll tell that to Recovery Girl next time.”

“I promise there won’t be a next time. I went too far. And I got lucky. If you’d directed your quirk at me, I would have slammed into the wall and been in there with you. It was a risky move anyways and I shouldn’ have done it.” He squeezes your shoulder, “I’ll make it up to you. Come on.”

Pressing out of the closet door, you really hope no one notices you stepping out of the small space with Katsuki Bakugo. He takes your hand, pulling you down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Kitchen. That little runt’s afraid of me so you’re fine as long as you stay close.”

Approaching a counter of liquor, he opens a bottle of tequila, pouring both of you a shot. He slides it to you.

You pitch an eyebrow up at him, “you think I’m taking a drink from you?”

“Oh come on, I’m not a perv. You said you wanted to have more fun and I owe you.” 

Skeptically you agree. “Okay, but I am not going home with you.”

He laughs, “who said I’d wanna go home with you? Besides, I’m still not convinced you’d ever relax enough to fuck anyone.”

“Oh fuck off, Bakugo. Clearly you don’t know me at all,” you say before downing the shot. It burns but you don’t let yourself react.

“Clearly,” he responds slightly smirking before drinking his own.

A few hours after you first started drinking with Bakugo, the two of you are sitting on the kitchen floor with the bottle between you. You’d started shot for shot but at some point managed to lose the shot glasses and switched to passing the bottle back and forth. Your sweater and his jacket piled in a ball between you.

“Okay. So,” you slur, gesturing vaguely at him, “you want to be a hero because of All Might?”

“When I was a kid, yeah.” He puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you, “but now I have more reasons, not just him. You didn’t answer my question though! Who’s yours?”

“Who made me want to be a hero?” you’d slightly dodged the question because, even in your inebriated state, the answer is a bit embarrassing. “Okay, I’ll answer but you can’t make fun of me for it.”

“That’s no fun, I already answered and you’re definitely gonna make fun of me.”

“If I was going to make fun of you, I already would have. You’re wearing All Might socks,” you lightly kick his ankle, the blue and red socks showing where his pant legs slid up. He glances down before his head lolls back towards you, staring expectantly.

“Okay, fine. Mine’s Eraserhead.”

“Eraser? Like our teacher?” he laughs, “no, that makes a lot of sense. You totally have a crush on our teacher!”

“I do not!” you lightly shove his shoulder. Unfocused, your eyes rake over him. You’d never noticed how pretty he is until now, he’s beautiful. He bumps back into you.

“Is that why you try so hard in class? You should tell him!” he picks up your phone from the floor.

“No! But also kind of?” your hand reaches towards your phone, missing his entirely, “I don’t have a crush on him but I want him to like me.” he raises his eyebrows at you, “NOT LIKE THAT!” you pause before continuing, “how would you feel if All Might didn’t like you?”

“He doesn’t dislike you.”

“He made me work with you,” you blurt out without thinking.

Bakugo flinches slightly at the honesty, but he seems to get it. “He’s not stupid, Backfire. He’s had almost two years to see that we fight all the time and he just wants us to get along or something.” 

“If only he could see us now,” you laugh. To a stranger, you probably look quite close right now. Your leg over his, his arm over your shoulder, leaning in towards each other.

Wait, fuck.

His glossy crimson eyes light up, “wait! I’ve got it, that’s what you should send him!” he says while sloppily swiping the camera open on your phone and flipping the screen to a selfie. Pulling you in closer, your head falls onto his shoulder. The screen of your phone flashes lightly and he drops the arm in front of you, but you can’t be bothered to move. Tipping your face into him, your eyes closing. He really does smell so good.

 “Aww it’s like we’re friends, he’ll love it,” he says, nudging your phone into your hands.

Prying yourself up, your eyes adjust to the screen. As your doubled vision merges with itself, you notice the notifications in your group chat with Jiro and Mina.

Jiro [where’d you go??]

Mina [we miss you!1!]

Mina [okay, we’re looking for yuo]

Jiro [re3alyy where r u?]

“Oh shit,” you say, “my friends must have texted when we were in the closet.”

You [omggg just saw tghhese]

You [not dead]

Tipping your phone away from Bakugo, you add

You [hes so hott6t]

You [shuold i kiss himn?]

Mina [oooooooo]

Jiro [who.?]

You [image]

Jiro [no]

Jiro [defnitly not]

Mina [🚩🚩🚩]

Mina [babe, ur SLOPPY]

Jiro [is that a kitchen?? we’re otw!]

Jiro [dotn do anythng!!]

Abandoning your phone on the floor, your head droops back into his shoulder. He leans into you, pressing his cheek into your forehead. Taking the bottle from his hand, you sip idly - unable to feel the burn anymore. You wonder what it would be like to kiss him, gazing longingly at his lips that are now only inches away. 

“Blasty, you’ve been hiding [y/n] from us!” Mina’s voice fills the kitchen as your friends pile to the floor next to you, Kirishima in tow.

Jiro takes the bottle before grasping your hands and pulling you upright. “Hey, you alright?” she asks soothingly. 

“They’re fine,” Bakugo asserts, “and I didn’t hide shit. We’ve been here most of the night,” he yanks the tequila back from Jiro, polishing the bottle off in a final gulp. “All of you just suck at looking for people.”

“Come on man, get off the floor.” Kirishima urges, “let’s go kick everyone’s asses at beer pong!”

“We need to get up and go too,” Jiro adds as she and Mina collect your belongings. 

Staggering slightly, you follow your group out to the living room before everyone begins to part ways. 

“I’m gonna stay with them!” Mina whispers to you, “Eijiro will walk me home later,” she adds with a wink.

“Bye, have fun!” you hug her before turning to Jiro.

“Don't forget about tomorrow!” Bakugo yells over his shoulder, following his friends.

“One o'clock, I'll be there, ” you yell back, your words still slurring together.

“What’s tomorrow?” Jiro asks while guiding you out the door.

“School project we have to do,” you respond. 

“That makes more sense, but still. Maybe next time we go to a party you can find a boy to sit on the floor with who didn’t try to kill you earlier.” 

part 2

m.list

[woewriting]

basorexia (i)

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: you're dying to know what cairo's lips taste like. word count: 2295 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no pronouns used, kissing, slightly nsfw, sexual tension, a bit angsty, not exactly a happy ending, sorry...

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Clearing your throat for the 5th time since class started, you tried to look away from the girl that stood in front of the class, paper in hands as she read the words written on it to everyone. The brown eyes would often travel around looking for any reactions that she would entice, from Mr. Miller, to her best-friend, to the rest of the students and finally landing on you. 

Cairo gave you a brief smile, but enough to make you blush. The heat wave taking over your body, making you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Sitting in the front row, that close to her, was not the best idea.

As the brunette finished presenting her paper, the professor motioned for her to return to her seat, right next to you. Also not a good idea, but she insisted and it wasn’t hard to comply with her wishes. You swallowed hard, eyes looking at your hands that rested on your lap, avoiding to look at her, being this closed never failed to agitate your heart, especially after her readings.

“So,” Cairo leaned closer, whispering in your ear with a sweet voice. “What did you think?”

“It was incredible, as well as everything you've ever written. You have a way with words that never fails to astonish me.”

The girl let out a small laugh. “Is ‘astonish’ your word of the day?”

“How did you guess?” You retorted in the same playful tone.

You finally looked at her. Big mistake, if you cared to admit to yourself.

Cairo was close, leaning into your personal space as she always did to test your reactions. Her eyes carried unspoken words that you wished she’d share with you the same way she does when working on her writing, but it never seemed to be something that would, eventually, come to reality. She had many things she wanted to share, unfortunately, none involved you.

Not directly, at least.

Feeling your throat dry at the sudden closeness, your eyes darted from hers, down to her lips where a small smile rested, knowing damn well the effect she had on you. 

“I can read you like a poem.” She whispered, pulling back to pay attention to the rest of the class.

It was a truthful statement, she can read you as if you were written by a high schooler, with shallow, badly used words that confuses everyone around, including you.

Sometimes it felt like she was interpreting you wrongly, in her own ways.

And that only made you more confused as to what was the feeling you felt when she was beside you. And what she felt for you.

Yet, you burn inside to hear her mind. 

The rest of the morning went by like the wind, occasionally blowing on your hair, threatening to rain every second. Like every other ordinary day. 

Cairo would spend time either writing or reading in her own world, completely focused on the words she would type on her laptop, stealing glances from you every now and then when Winnie’s laugh got her attention. You pretend not to feel the brown eyes burning your side profile, but the brunette always noticed the way you gulp and bite on your lower lip before returning her attention to her work. 

Only then you’d look at her. And it was as if the world was muted by whoever controls this reality, making everything disappear as you gazed at her face, from the messy fringe that covered her forehead to the light-colored dots that were spread on her skin, your favorite one being a small freckle on her lip that you wished to kiss away and steal it for you.

You were dying to know how she tastes, if it was bitter like the coffee she insists is better than any other sugary garbage you and Winnie chooses to drink, or if it was minty like the cigarettes that always rested in her hands. Maybe it tasted like cinnamon because of the gum she carries in her back pocket, or cherries since she loves to eat them when she’s alone at home.

Shaking your head, you turned your attention back to Winnie Black and whatever was the subject she seemed excited to talk about, and all you could do was laugh when she did. 

Cairo noticed your behavior.

On your way through the trees, you trailed behind her, just admiring the way she would kneel whenever a new insect crossed her way. 

“Don’t you think they’re cute?” She asked with glowing eyes, looking hypnotized by the green praying-mantis in her hands. 

“It would be more interesting if they could kung-fu.” 

Cairo rolled her eyes at your joke, coming closer to you to lay the innocent animal in your own hands, a disgusted feature took over your face once you felt the tickles in your skin. 

“If they could kung-fu, you’d be dead by now.” She joked back, walking her way out of the woods that led to the old, empty mansion on the other side, leaving you behind unsure on what to do with the tiny creature in your hands. Luckily, it jumped off on its own as if it had noticed your discomfort. 

You laughed to yourself, following her once again.

The old place had slowly become your second house as you stayed there more than at your actual home. With Cairo’s parents out for most of the days on working trips, you’d find yourself more comfortable with the other’s presence as you both worked on your assignment in silence after class.

It was dark outside the window when you let out a sigh of relief, finally finished with your work. Looking over to Cairo, she still had the laptop on her lap, but little did you know she had finished her own homework way before you.

“Do you know what ‘basorexia’ means?” Her voice made you stare at her with a confused aura. You denied with your head, sitting back up on the chair you were in. Cairo took one last drag on the cigarette that rested between her fingers before putting it out on the small, porcelain plate on the nightstand by her bed. She walked to you at a slow, calculated pace until she was standing in front of you. “It means ‘the overwhelming desire to kiss someone’.” She explained, calmly placing herself on your lap.

“What are you doing?” You choked on your voice, trying to back yourself away from her, but her hands firmly on your shoulders and legs resting side by side with yours made you stay in place. 

“I want the truth.”

“What truth, Cairo?”

When the brunette leaned closer, you could smell the mint in her breath. Her fingers found the collar of your shirt, touching your neck with the tip of them.

“About what you want.” Her eyes were dark, pupils full blown at the feeling of you so tensed up under her touch. “I see the way you look at me, an overflowing desire that is almost drowning you in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried to play off, but your voice failed you as you looked away from her, focusing on the vintage furniture that decorated her bedroom; everything looked so antique, matching perfectly with the personality of the girl stranding your lap. 

Cairo’s hand left your shoulder to lock your chin over her index finger as she made you look at her.

“You can lie to yourself as many times as you want, but you cannot lie to me.” Her thumb brushed softly on your lower lip and you had to stop yourself from sucking it into your mouth. “You think you’re doing a great job at hiding what’s in your head, but your body gives away your true intentions.”

“And how’s that?” The low, curious tone in your voice made the girl lean closer, brushing her lips against yours.

“Your eyes love to travel up and down my body, but they seem to have a strange obsession with my lips.” She licked on them, the tip of her tongue touching you. You closed your eyes for a mere second, but the small tilt on your chin made you open them again. “Your cheeks gain a pinkish tone whenever I lean closer to you and you stop breathing as if the air I let out is toxic. Your hands refuse to touch me out of fear I’ll burn under your touch.” The hand that wasn't holding you in place found yours that were glued to your sides, making them rest on her thigh. “So, I want you to tell me what’s going on inside your pretty little head.”

Cairo Sweet is objective, what she wants, she’ll have it. One way or another. And she had her own ways to justify the means.

Your brain tried to form a single sentence, but the words had left your vocabulary, all it had left was the new word you had just learned: basorexia. 

Was that what you felt in your chest? 

Once again, the girl proved to be ahead of you, knowing your true wishes. Reading you like an open book displayed on her desk among the others that she devours. 

You took one last deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts before you let out all that’s been troubling you since you first met Cairo.

“I want to kiss you. But only once, I think.” The girl smiled, reaching out for your other hand so that now both rested on her thighs. “I just want to know what it’s like and I’ve spent enough time staring at your lips that I can’t bear the thought of never finding out.”

“What if I don’t want to kiss you?” 

“Then that makes us two liars instead of one.” Your voice was nothing but a lowly whisper, afraid to break that thick tension that surrounded the both of you like the smoke that Cairo blew out of her mouth.

Your hands moved up and down, never trespassing the fabric of her black skirt. You didn't want to abuse a boundary that you didn't know existed, but imagined. Everything about Cairo was a mystery, she spent more time hidden in the words of her books than actually expressing her wishes out loud, it was rare the times she felt comfortable saying them, and when she did, it felt like you were standing in the eye of the hurricane.

Her hands were heavy on your shoulder, slowly moving to tangle in your hair to pull your head back. You looked at her with half-opened eye lids and parted lips as she carefully analyzed you, deciding on what should be her next step. All she knew was that, after the first one, she couldn’t take two back.

Cairo fixed herself on your lap, holding back a heavy breath that threatened to escape her throat at the touch of your burning hands moving past her skirt. You wanted to grab the flesh and move her against you just to hear that sound again.

You watched with hypnotized eyes when she stopped smiling, hovering over you with open lips, her hot breath mixing with yours, but never closing the small gap between the two of you. She was unsure, hesitant, almost as if waiting for someone to push her off the edge of a cliff.

This time you took the first step, your hands held her waist and your torso moved against hers to capture her lips with your own, sucking on her bottom lip. Cairo kissed you with hunger, easily taking control of the situation with her hands cupping your cheeks, pulling you towards her as she pushed herself on you, not even air could go through you.

She tasted divine on your tongue, even more than you could ever dream of, and the sounds that were escaping from her parted lips whenever you tilted your head for a different fitting filled your ears and soon became your favorite sound. When she moaned against your mouth, feeling your nails dig the skin of her waist, you went to heaven and back, your body heating up as if hell embraced you in a tight hug. 

Moving one of her hands from your face, the brunette guided yours up, squeezing her breast with a small smile while kissing you before leading it down her body once more. 

She was hot against your fingers and it was easy for you to slide them against her slit at a torturous pace. Cairo held your hand steady, deciding to move her hips against you, whining on your lips with eyes closed. Short nails digging at the nape of your neck, a bearable burning on the spot. 

Trailing your kisses down her neck, you licked on her pulse point, earning yourself a hoarse moan before she pulled back from you, standing up before she reached the ‘no return’ point.

You nearly screamed at the sudden abruption, following behind her. As your arms were to wrap around her waist, she pushed you down back on the chair with a firm hand on your chest. You stared at her, frustrated and bothered, and she didn’t seem so different from you. Swollen lips, dark eyes and heavy breathing, her shoulders fastly moving up and down. Once again, you were confused with her actions.

The awkward silence that filled the bedroom was loud, screaming inside of your head. You wanted to slap that expression on her face, the one that looked at you with a tensed jawline. Instead, you just got up and took the jacket that rested on the chair’s arm, hearing the flick of her lighter before you closed the door and walked down the stairs, a burning feeling on your chest.

[dark-mnjiro]

make me :: adam x afab!reader

Author’s Note: welcome to my hell. This shit eating grin sexist garbage man is now my entire world. Happy fucking Valentine’s Day. I’m in hell.

Content Warnings: angel!adam x afab!reader, explicit sexual content, explicit language, teasing, choking, missionary, mating press, dirty talk, unsafe sex, breeding kink, dacryphilia (if you squint), quite frankly adam is a content warning himself…

Nonstop.

He had been ranting nonstop for nearly ten minutes.

Adam’s hands were locked firmly on your hips, keeping you locked and straddling his waist while he relaxed against the couch. You couldn’t recall exactly when you stopped listening to his nonstop rant, but so far he hadn’t seemed to notice.

“And Miss Sunshine and Rainbows think she can rehabilitate sinners-” he merely stopped to cackle. “And thinks they can just come up here and fuck up the good shit we have here-HA.”

You felt his gaze on you before you quickly flashed a smile and a quick to acknowledge you were “paying attention”.

His grip on your hips tightened before he began talking again. “Getting rid of the extermination?” He continued. “Can you fucking believe that shit, babe? Who the fuck would allow that?!”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes in an attempt to keep your expression invested in his words. Being Adam’s third wife had its perks, but his mouth was unfortunately one of the cons. You had tuned out of the conversation a long time ago, but your eyes watched his lips moving as he ranted.

How you wished you could shut him up.

“What a fucking bitch am I right?”

You blinked at Adam. “I suppose.”

“You suppose? Babe, were you listening to anything I was saying?”

Furrowing your brows, an annoyed sigh fell from your lips. “Adam—”

He let out a painful groan. “My wife doesn’t want to listen to me!”

Not again.

“Adam.”

“I can’t believe you weren’t listening to me!” he wailed.

Your expression went flat as you took your fingers, rubbing your temple from the impending headache that was to come. “Adam. I swear-”

He didn’t hear you. “My WIFE.”

“Oh, my GOD. SHUT UP ADAM.”

He was silent for a moment before his golden eyes narrowed at you. “Fucking make me.”

The tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine before his grip on your hips tightened.

“Adam!”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Hm?”

“That fucking hurts!”

“Please,” he practically snorted. “You won’t do shit.”

“Fuck you, Adam.”

His tongue slid along his lower lip.

“Let me go,” you snapped before trying to push yourself away from him. His grip only tightened on your thighs. “You’re such an asshole!”

In one, swift movement, you found Adam on top of you with your arms pinned over your head. He used his body weight against you, forcing you down against the couch. The smirk on his lips only grew before he ground his hips against your own. The friction made you gasp before struggling against him again.

“What a little brat you are,” he taunted. “Maybe I can fuck this attitude right out of you.”

Heat rose the back of your neck before he leaned in and pressed his lips against your own. His tongue probed at your lip, pushing into your mouth.

His hands moved down your arms and found their way to your chest. You moaned into the kiss as Adam gave your breasts a firm squeeze through your top. His hands moved lower, gripping the edge of your top before quickly discarding the article of clothing.

Adam pulled away from your mouth before taking in your flustered expression as you tried to catch your breath. His tongue moved along his lips again before the corner of his mouth tugged back into his signature smirk.

Your eyes narrowed. “Come on Adam.”

“Hm?”

He was taunting you now.

“What does my pretty baby want?”

Scowling, you looked away. “You know what.”

Adam tilted his head to the side, feigning innocence. “I do?”

“Don’t act stupid!”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Heat burned at your cheeks. “Adam, please.”

“Tell me what you want.” He continued as his hands went to your pants. “Or I walk away.”

“Adam!”

He merely tilted his head to the opposite side.

His fingers brushed against the exposed flesh of your tummy before tugging lightly on your pants again. Heat pooled between your legs before you managed to mumble a small “fuck me” to him.

He leaned in. “What was that babe?”

You scowled. “Fuck me already!”

The golden hues in his eyes flashed playfully before he quickly made work of the rest of your clothing, tossing it haphazardly to the floor. He sat back, removing his robes. He so ready your legs before you felt the tip of his cock pressing against you.

“Ready?”

Glaring, you tried to scoot your hips down. “Adam…”

He scoffed before finally pushing into you. His golden eyes rolled back as he groaned, feeling your cunt squeeze him tightly. While he wasn’t the longest cock you had ever experienced (to be honest he was pretty average at best) - his thickness alone was enough to send you reeling. Tears beaded at the corner of your eyes as you tried to adjust to the stretch.

“I never get tired of feeling this tight pussy,” he moaned, offering you a shallow thrust.

Your eyes slipped shut as his name tumbled off your lips in whimpers. Adam adjusted his position, taking your legs and guiding your ankles to rest on his shoulder. The position forced him to take a deeper angle as his pace increased.

“Fuck,” he growled. “That’s fucking it, baby…”

He pushed your thighs back, pressing your legs against your chest. His favorite position - the mating press. You gasped as you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix.

Smirking, Adam leaned over as his free hand came to your throat. Your hand encircled around his wrist as he squeezed your throat lightly.

“Adam…” you whined.

“Stay right there,” he growled before thrusting into you harder. You could tell you wouldn’t hold out much longer… Adam knew it too. He leaned down to your ear. “Clenching I see,” he groaned. “Gonna cum on this cock? What a filthy angel you are for me…”

Even balls deep… he couldn’t resist running his mouth.

“You love this cock don’t you?” He teased as your eyes squeezed shut again. “Can barely take it, huh baby?”

“Adam!”

“That’s it,” he groaned.

Pleasure washed over your body before your body shuddered with orgasm. Adam’s hips stuttered as his thrusts became sloppy. He wouldn’t last much longer. He grunted again before releasing inside of you.

“Fuck,” he hissed before collapsing on top of you.

Your hands came up and raked through his dark hair as you tried to catch your labored breaths. His nose brushed against the nape of your neck.

“You okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I’m fine Adam,” you assured him. “More than fine.” Despite his typical attitude, he always wanted to check up on you. Even after sex.

He chuckled. “Wanna go again?”

“Dumbass.”

“Dickmaster to you!”

[notaplaceofhonour]

Understanding Alex Jones’s place in the Bush-era anti-war scene would do the left a lot of good in understanding (and not repeating) similar mistakes that the current anti-war scene is making today.

For those who aren’t old enough to remember, there was actually a time when Alex Jones had a decent amount of goodwill on the far left. He was obviously always a lunatic conspiracy theorist, and most everyday people saw him as such, but there was a significant enough portion of the anti-war left that liked him, that actually promoted InfoWars, appeared on AJ’s show, and linked arms with him at anti-war protests.

Without the momentum that his Bush-era popularity gave him, Jones would not have become a recognizable or relevant media figure like he did. The model InfoWars pioneered, which helped pave the way for the entire far right griftosphere that sprang up around it—from Breitbart to OAN & the Epoch Times to the sea of smaller Q-fluencers—owes its success in part to this diagonal reach across political lines. The extreme right wing conspiracy theory platform that has all but consumed the GOP would not have been able to gain nearly as much of a foothold if it were not for the years of work InfoWars & outlets like it did to normalize it in the Bush years.

Obviously I am not going so far as to say “The Left Is Solely Responsible For Alex Jones™️”. But much of the anti-war/anti-government left absolutely participated in helping him rise to prominence. They were willing to jump in bed with Jones without paying attention to his work or else were willing to turn a blind eye to who Jones was, all because he was saying things that were convenient to their cause. It didn’t matter that he was a rightwing or grade-A bigot; he opposed the US government & the war.

And I’m fully aware that there’s a common refrain among a lot of that “I used to listen to InfoWars” section of the left that would push back against this and say, “well, yeah, Jones is obviously a fascist now, but back then he wasn’t like that; he was kooky back then, sure, but the pre-Sandy Hook, pre-Gay Frogs Jones wasn’t nearly as bigoted or rightwing as the ‘Hillary For Prison’ Trump-era Jones became”.

To that I say, no, that’s bullshit. If you actually go back and listen to his show from back then… holy shit. He was homophobic as fuck. He was racist as fuck. The entire NWO/Globalist framework that he hangs all his other conspiracy theories on is built around antisemitic tropes from the Protocols of the Elders of Zion he regularly hosted & promoted explicit antisemites like his pastor Texe Marrs, who openly espoused that Jews (often named as such) controlled the world politically, financially, and religiously through Zionism, a global banking cartel, and Communism. In some ways, Jones was even more transparent then than he is now.

“Okay, but what does this have to do with the current anti-war movement?” I hear you say. “I never fell for Alex Jones; I’ve always hated that guy.”

To begin with, you should be on the lookout for the internal biases and lack of vetting that lead the left to tolerate Jones in the first place, whether you think you’re liable to or not (arguably, it is all that much more important when you think you aren’t, because you are never more susceptible than when you think you aren’t). But unfortunately much of the anti-war left of today has been making the same mistake, just with different people and organizations.

Take for instance Jackson Hinkle, a tradcath & self-described “MAGA Communist”, who has gotten a lot of traction with the leftwing anti-Zionist crowd (and I would be remiss not to mention, has also been a guest on InfoWars). Or take another AJ, the media outlet Al Jazeera, which says a lot of things that are attractive to the left out one side of its mouth while spewing a bunch of rightwing theocratic garbage out the other, much like Bush-era InfoWars did. Take PSL/ANSWER (Pro-Putin Pro-Assad Pro-Xi atrocity denialists & conspiracy theorists) are one of the most common fixtures of the current protest movement, regularly advertised as organizers by other prominent organizations like JVP & SJP. A lot of people on the left have been embracing figures and organizations that espouse Khazar Theory, Deicide, Media Control, and Blood Libels not at all dissimilar to the accusations you could hear from Jones and his pastor friend Texe Marrs, with the same figleaf of “anti-Zionism” that Marrs frequently used himself.

Whether by sheer ignorance or willfully turning a blind eye, the left keeps making the same mistake of tolerating & even embracing figures & organizations with similarly noxious politics & conspiracy thinking now that was made with Bush-era InfoWars. We need to do better. We need to learn from the past so we can stop repeating its mistakes.