#we'll always make exceptions

[pro-anomalocaris]

My mom is psychologist. She used to work with Social Services. One of her clients had millionaire parents who regularly raped him in front of his siblings as a way to keep them in line. His failure to produce straight-A grades, be straight and meet their expectations in a thousand other ways got him thrown out onto the street when he was 16. They didn't even bother with waiting until he was 18. And the police in Bumfuck, West Virginia were very easy to buy off. When you're rich, you can throw your chronic rape victim away like a used condom and not even have to wait until they hit the normal expiration date.

He tried to get Social Services to remove his siblings from the home. They had enough money to make sure that didn't happen. We will never know what else went down in that house, but I doubt it was anything good. Considering his sister had to have an abortion (against her will, but hey, she's ~rich~, who cares, right?) at 15, I'm guessing his dad switched targets.

A reality people don't want to face is that the first people predators and abusers hurt are their family members, who are the ones they have the most power over. This is why children are more likely to be abused by family than anyone else statistically.

And this applies to rich people, too.

Yeah, this guy was eventually able to find someone who let him crash in their garage, got his GED, and managed to put himself through beauty school so he can work as a hairdresser. He survived. He's also not an oppressor. No one is being oppressed by his struggle with alcohol and his one-room apartment and his PTSD. You are not in class war with him feeling such panic at the sight of Greek columns in front of houses that he grabs his arm and tears little cuts into his flesh with his fingernails. No amount of hating him is going to fix anything. Not for you, not for society, not for the working class.

"But his parents had money!" I DON'T CARE! His mom used to hold him down and watch while his dad raped him on the dining room table and they didn't let him even grab his stuff before they threw him out as a minor!

At some point I have to wonder if it's not people being deliberately obtuse and refusing to acknowledge reality. At some point I have to wonder if it's just that people in "leftist" "progressive" spaces just want someone they can bully with impunity and they know that "eat the rich" is a phrase that'll deactivate people's brains and rob them of their capacity to understand context or nuance.

If your leftist anarcho-commie progressive space looks at people who were thrown out without a coat in winter with 4$ to their name after eleven years of CSA and goes, "this is an oppressor", maybe you're not as leftist, commie, anarchist or progressive as you think you are.

My scalding hot take - controversial, somehow, even on the left - is that child abuse is bad, period. No exceptions.

And it's really creepy that people want to argue otherwise.

As a kid, when your parents are poor, you're poor. If they don't have money, that means none of you have money. But if someone's parents are rich, that doesn't necessarily mean the kid is. Sometimes rich peoples' kids aren't rich kids, they're just some rich freak's exotic pets that can talk but aren't allowed to.

[windfalling]

1.02 // 1.06 // 1.08 The Stranger vs. Sol on recognizing and differentiating Osha and Mae

[moons-rising]

currently have 162 dragons that are considered part of clan lore... 49 of which are imperials. since in lore my actual clan is bigger than what's possible on the website, it'd be more like 10 times that many, meaning about 500 imperials. that's. certainly a risky situation, with the whole emperor issue huh.

tho, deaths are a rare occurence considering this is a fairly peaceful clan and dragons are very long-lived. sometimes decades pass with no one dying, and immediate cremation is the standard burial practice for the clan, so things might not be as risky as it seems at first.

[volivolition]

prepping for my Bonus Days. i love tutorial agent lmao

[running-in-the-dark]

looking at cats that are up for adoption at the local animal shelter and... I think out of all the cats there were two that don't require letting them go outside 🙃

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Stuck on the first few eps of Farscape after finishing up Fantasy High s2 and maybe its the whole most recently consumed bias but I'm really struck by how much it feels like a dnd game??? Bunch of weird lil renegades slapped together and put in weird situations, honestly it would make a really interesting starting point for a game

Anyway John Crichton is a bard/wizard; he does a lot of persuasion as performance and that scene of him collapsing to the floor to write slingshot equations is THE most wizard shit- perhaps Artificer would be more accurate to him but it's not a class I'm familiar with.

[camellcat]

why r people so hostile to ghosts. I once cried bc I thought if I moved out the ghosts in my house would be lonely without me there to keep them company

[stillfruit]

i love not knowing if i'll ever be healthy again i love all of the time i've used to move my body become nothing i love spending my adulthood wasting away year after year for various reasons baby!

[mekatrio]

hate these kind of posts sm

[lifeinkinder]

My district is likely changing health insurance again.

This will be the 4th new health insurance I've had in the last 7 years - all because of this district.

They've transparently said, in 2 years, they will likely change again as they're looking for cheaper options - those options just aren't options right now.

[druidgroves]

me realizing that going back home for my sister's graduation means my family will be meeting mara for the first time in person

[ihamtmus]

i will miss him :((((((

[psychoticallytrans]

I noticed today that the deadname of a client was clearly visible in their client file because it was their legal name, and flagged it for IT. I specifically flagged it as "Hey, if someone sees this and calls our client the wrong name, we'll lose them as a client." IT emailed me back immediately, and it's now invisible except on their contract with us, which the majority of us don't have direct access to, as opposed to their client file.

The reason I flagged it framing it as a loss is that what matters to most companies is money. If you can flag a bigoted practice as something that will lose customers, clients, or get them a lawsuit, that is significantly more likely to get taken care of quickly than trying to appeal to their better nature. I could have flagged it as "Hey, this is going to make our client really upset if they hear it.", which was my actual motivation for flagging it, but if I had, then it probably would have been taken care of in a few days or even weeks, not hours.

Always hit them with the profit argument for quick and decisive action.

[wcnderlnds]

home sweet home | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: after his big interview, you go over to make sure he's okay and there's a shift in the friendship. ・❥・word count: 941 ・❥・warnings: none! oh, except for kissing, i guess. ・❥・ authors note: ok im nervous about this one. i havent wrote fics for musicians, etc. in years so we'll see how it goes but im so down bad for this man

Each glance at the clock made your heart beat just a little faster, the hours ticking by slowly. If you were nervous then you couldn’t even imagine how he felt. His first interview in years — it had to be the most daunting experience to put himself back into the spotlight like that. Your foot tapped against the floor of your apartment as you waited for the clock to hit 3PM. That was the time you’d told him you’d go over to his place to check on him. His interview would’ve been over by then and it gave him some time to process things on his own. Most of the time Seung-hyun liked to isolate himself but if there was one person in the world that he’d let see him at his most vulnerable, it was you. Not like he had a choice anyway. Whether he wanted it or not, you were always checking on him. He was your nearest and dearest friend so you couldn’t let him face his demons on his own.

Seung-hyun appreciated it more than he would ever be able to explain to you. As of now, you were the only person he hadn’t shut out — his guiding light in the darkness of his life for the past few years. You were a big reason why he thought more positively these days, why he even had the courage to pick himself up and get back out into the world.

Finally, 3PM came and without hesitation, you made your way over to his place. As you raised your fist to knock, the door pulled open. There he stood, a smile on his face as his dark, floppy hair got in the way of his glasses. He pushed his hair back as you stepped inside. It really was a crime how this man could look so good at any given time. He really had been blessed with amazing genes. His hair with no product in, the glasses framing his face and the comfortable hoodie he was wearing made your heart almost skip a beat.

“How’d it go?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Okay,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against his chest. “Scary but I did it and that’s the main thing. It’s long overdue.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you smiled. As you pulled back, you let your arms rest on his forearms, gazing up into his gorgeous dark eyes. “Baby steps, yeah? Go at your own pace. But, for now, let’s eat and you can tell me all about it.”

The dinner was spent with you both laughing, him telling stories of how the interview went, you telling him about your day — he was always so willing to listen to every word you said. The way he looked at you paired with the way he was always so attentive was any person’s dream. Seung-hyun was a catch; anyone with eyes could see that. Yours had been closed for so long but now? You were starting to realise that maybe, just maybe, what you both needed had been right in front of you this whole time.

As the two of you stood in the kitchen clearing up, you ran a plate under the sink, rinsing off the debris so you could put it in the dishwasher. Spinning around, you came face to chest with Seung-hyun who had been standing behind you placing something in the cabinet above your head. You gulped at the proximity, his fingers sliding over yours as he took the plate from your hand. It was only brief contact but it was enough to make your heart speed up.

“Here, let me do that,” he said quietly, his deep voice like music to your ears. It took him all of two seconds to reach over, bend down and place it in the dishwasher before he was back facing you. 

“Thank you,” your voice was soft, eyes locking with his as you glanced up.

Seung-hyun gently tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, his fingers skimming your cheek as he pulled back. Your breath caught in your throat. It was like time had frozen still for a moment — nothing but you and your best friend locked in this monumental piece of time where you realised this was more than friendship. Maybe it always had been. Your heart had just finally decided to catch up and realise it. From the moment you had met this amazing, incredible man, he’d had a piece of your heart. All you ever wanted to do was protect him, care for him like he deserved. The world had been cruel to him but you’d make sure that nothing would be again.

It was as if he was reading your mind, his hand cupping your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek. Who was going to be the first to make a move? Was it worth risking the friendship? It seemed like it to Seung-hyun as he leaned forward and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands rested on his chest, lips moving together in perfect sync. Like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. You could feel him smiling against your lips, pulling back ever so slightly. Your lips parted, chest rising and falling with each breath. 

“Can I do that again?” He asked almost breathlessly. 

You didn’t even say a word instead placing your hand at the back of his neck and pulling him back down to your lips. Yeah, there was definitely no going back now.

[yeyinde]

The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

[novococain]

👀