#weed legalization dc

[hashvillerealestate]

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[amurder-ofcrows]

i’ve never been peer pressured or fell for other people doing it but i am still a bad influence as my dad got a monster energy drink instead of his coffee for our 4hr DC round trip today because i’ve started drinking energy drinks regularly and know the flavors well like please do not tell my mom about this she’ll be disappointed in the both of us and we don’t need that

[burinazar]

hmm. weed is mega illegal in japan (rip career of kaiji composer) so i guess i should take advantage of marylands recreational use while i can? insert ganja squad joke here

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[qqueenofhades]

Also going to post this as a resource for queer brethren/sistren/enbythren who feel as if they, justifiably, do not want to spend the next four years in a red state looking over their shoulders all the time.

TCP is based in Denver, Colorado, and is currently mostly focused on helping trans folks get out of places like Texas and Florida, but they describe themselves as a "queer relocation nonprofit" and will work with queer and GNC people of any stripe who are stuck in unfriendly environments and would like to consider coming to CO. They have seen a huge increase in aid requests since the election for sadly understandable reasons and there is a waitlist, but even if they may not be able to help you directly at this very moment, they can possibly connect you with other resources/organizations/etc.

I was born in CO, so I am biased, but it does have:

A Democratic supermajority in the legislature and a Democratic governor/secretary of state/Attorney General;

A majority-Democratic House delegation (except for uh, Lauren Boebert) and two Democratic senators;

Robust protections for LGBTQ+ folks;

Abortion rights codified in the constitution (it serves as a sanctuary state for care in the Rocky Mountain West);

Great scenery and outdoor activities; four seasons; a refreshing lack of summertime humidity; beautiful mountains; winter and summer sports (hiking, skiiing, etc); 300 days of sunshine a year, even in winter;

Fun cities and cultural institutions/sports teams/museums/etc;

DIA (Denver International Airport) is one of the busiest in the nation and the world and you can very easily get most places;

Easy and universal mail-in voting and expansion of voting access;

It is admittedly expensive (especially along the Front Range) but considerably less so than say, New York, Boston, Seattle, DC, Los Angeles, or other big blue cities;

Legal weed (if you are into that Rocky Mountain High);

And so forth!

Basically, you will be as safe as you can possibly be for the next four years in CO, so it's certainly worth checking out this site if you are a queer person in a red state and feel as if it may be time to make some exit plans. I will also answer questions so much as I can.

[arandomao3user]

Bbgrl Stephcass smut exists if you really want it leave wfa alone

XD Is... Is this my first real anon hate? My dude, this isn't about smut, also don't misgender me with that bbgrl bull, you transphobic weed killer. If you can click the ask button you can read my pronouns, but I'm sure being a transphobic piece of s#&$ is easier than reading, for you.

Anyways! This is universally about bad writers across all DC, but I can't even expect you to know anything about writing because you have the grammar skills of a two year old.

** Babygirl, Stephcass smut exists if you really want it. Leave Wayne Family Adventures alone.

OR

*Bbgrl, StephCass smut exists if you really want it. Leave WFA alone."

Alternatively, depending on your mood, you can end the sentence in either a "!" To show excitement or anger, and "?" To be like "what the f#&% is this dude on about?"

Commas are important, because what you write was that Baby girls Steph Cass smut exists if I really like it and it.. That... And. That... That confuses and concerns me??? You good??? Whatchu readin'? What's the Ao3 history lookin' like? We good?

I am sorry I was not worth the time to add a single ounce of grammar into the singular... not even a sentence, whatever you just wrote in 0.5 seconds because I triggered you and on the way to the block button you stumbled upon the ask button instead.

Common mistake, you're forgiven! Have some Tim to cope.

Anywho, I am not sure what specifically this is directed at, or why you're so pressed over the fact I'm calling out the writers on their bull of forcing Steph and Tim alongside Steph and Cass into the sibling box instead of acknowledging the romance that happened between Steph and Tim and how it affected both of them as characters, same with Stephanie and Cass. I'm not even a die hard StephCass shipper, but I can still be mad that WFA continues to fail the entire third season by mischaracterizing everyone, but especially Cass to an offensive point and calling Steph and Cass sisters despite them not sharing, being raised by, nor being adopted by the same person or people.

Stephanie is NOT her family.

I could care less if the ship becomes canon or is canon, my problem is the family dynamics that DC cannot ever acknowledge but they also wanna shove the "sibling" label onto characters who AREN'T related by law or blood. Siblings? Tim, Jason, Dick, Damian, Cass. All adopted legally by the same man at one point or another. They are siblings, Duke isn't included because he was never adopted by Bruce nor does he live with him in the main continuity. Steph and Cass? They are not siblings and it's ridiculous to consider them as such when it's acknowledged (panel above) that they AREN'T. What they are doesn't really have a name and it doesn't need one, but hey, go off and defend a comic series to ME, A CONSUMER OF SAID SERIES, WHO READS THE NEW PART EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, without realizing or acknowledging a single point I am trying to make.

Now, apologies if this was to passive aggressive or if it was to many words for you, but I have been caring for seven children and my mentally disabled Mother while my own health issues flare up as I chug down my seventh coffee in hopes of making it thirty minutes through the second season of Bluey with a toddler and another child with ADHD while cooking four different pizzas to feed a family of ten. I sat down to scarf down a meal that's gonna make me sick in less then ten minutes from now, and I find you misgendering me and insulting me in my own space because you're to hurt to find the block button, instead choosing to anonymously insult a stranger on the internet over a literal splice of life comic series about group of superheroes.

Anyways! Have a good day and may TimBern be with you :D

(Fun Tip that can help you later: Use the block button if you're triggered and unable to calmly debate or talk with someone on the internet.)

[usmsgutterson]

Sweet - S. R x gn! reader

okay, hi! This is the second spencer fic coming out today because I wanted to celebrate my 20th in a more substantial kind of way than that of just getting stoned and existential and then eating my weight in food, so I decided to write a little bit of smut that I would enjoy when inevitably come back and reread some of my fics at some point or the next.

Fic type - this is smut!! I went with some of the stuff that's more in line with my tastes bc birthday, and this is what came of it. Minors and ageless blogs, do not interact unless you want me to press the block button, which I will, no hesitation.

Warnings - reader is described with gender neutral terms--I went with AFAB for anatomy purposes bc that is what I am equipped with and therefore most familiar with (I think the only feminine term I use is calling a clit a clit instead of something else) puppy kink, dubcon sort of?? idk if simple weed use counts for dubcon but it's going there anyway, age gap but it's not that big, it's like six years, use of illicit substances (weed. it was legal around season 12 or 13, which is when this fic is set bc the gif I used made me a little feral) but it's not super duper touched on. Weed dependency is talked about a little because I have dealt with that before and I projected a teensy weensy bit but it's only there for like. a paragraph.

Your birthday finds itself to be a cold, snowy day in DC and Quantico. You’re at work for nine and spend the day drinking tea, doing and then filing reports, and listening to Spencer and Alvez talk while JJ and Lewis butt in when appropriate.  

You’ve been with the BAU since you were twenty-six, and turning thirty while still working there is a funky little experience. Much like every other birthday since you’d joined up, you’d walked into work to find small gifts on your desk and had thanked the people who’d given them to you.  

Garcia had given you a mug with Snoopy the dog on it. It had been him lying on top of his doghouse with his eyes closed, and the image had been captioned “I love naps”. The mug itself was white beyond that, had a dark green handle and the same color on the inside.  

JJ had gifted you a candle and a small tub of the instant espresso you adored adding to your chai when you needed an extra kick of caffeine. The candle had been in a scent you’d loved for ages and you could not wait to light it up.  

Prentiss had given you a gift card to one of your favorite stores and another to the cafe you got your first tea from every single morning. Both of them would last you a bit because you didn’t like to go out and shop much—stores could be too overwhelming, especially after a long day at work.  

Alvez and Lewis had teamed up with Rossi to get you a couple of things—Rossi had had a weeks worth of vacation days he knew he would never use and he’d given four of them to you to use at your own discretion, Tara had bought you a couple of skeins of yarn from the brand she knew you loved to use when you knit up sweaters, and Alvez had given you one of those powdered drink mixes that you just had to add vodka or tequila to and after letting it sit in the fridge for twelve hours you’d have something sweet and tasty.  

And yet, somehow, Spencers gift holds the most weight.  

He’d been the first person you met when you had started at the BAU because the two of you had met in the elevator on your way up to interview with Hotch. After that, you’d learned that your desk was directly across from his horizontally speaking, and he’d almost made it a point to make you feel part of the team, as had JJ and Garcia.  

Your desk was across from Spencers horizontally, Lukes vertically, JJs on the diagonal. Tara was to your right on the horizontal though, and neither of you much liked being kept out of the loop in any conversation, so the two of you got very good at listening very fast.  

Spencers gift to you had been a couple of little things that you’d only ever mentioned in passing—for instance, your adoration of Oscar Wildes work had been something you’d only ever mentioned once, and yet the Uncensored Picture of Dorian Gray had been among the gifts he’d set on your desk.  

Also with them was a mason jar for iced tea and coffee in the summer, and two cans of Dr. Pepper, a soda that you adored but did not often drink at the office because it just wasn’t the place for Dr. Pepper consumption.  

The note that he leaves inside the first pages of the book, though? That cracks you in a way you want to hate but can’t.  

A few of my favorite persons favorite things. Enjoy your birthday, Y/N. 

You’ve been at the BAU for four years now, and you Spencer have been romantically involved for just a little bit less than half the time. You’d gotten together at 28 and 34 and had filed it through the appropriate channels and that was the end.  

Everyone knew you were together, but none of them really made that much of a fuss about it. You were there to work and while teasing and family-adjacent behaviors were common, teasing each other about romantic preferences and things like that felt a little bit juvenile.  

“So,” Garcia says at some point after five, when you’re finishing up the last file in your lot. Spencer has two more to do and the two of you plan to leave together, so Garcias distraction is a very welcome one. “What are your and Spencers plans for tonight? I know you don’t like birthdays or make a big deal, but there’s gotta be something.”  

Your plan is to do whatever your heart calls you to, and it’s most likely going to call you to steal one of Spencers work shirts, eat pizza and drink sweet wine til you’re drunk and stupid and wanting him to call you your favorite petname and do some nasty things. Either that or it'll be the same but with an edible instead of sweet wine.

“Oh--uh, nothing, really,” you shake your head. “He said he’s got a surprise for me when we get home, but nothing other than that except for pizza. I might get a little stoney-baloney, though. It’ll help me sleep.”  

You glance at Spencer in a rather subtle manner and see a barely concealed smirk dawning his face. Garcia laughs at you, her smile warm and kind as ever.

“You do love to get into the herbal depressants,” she chuckles. “You and Spencer have tomorrow off, right? Emily approved it?”  

You nod.  

“You gonna wake and bake?”  

You nod again, grinning just a little. “I will be going ham on birthday cake leftovers for breakfast and I am thrilled at the idea.”  

Garcia laughs a bit, shakes her head. “How Reid puts up with you, I don’t understand.”  

“They’re really sweet when stoned,” Spencer supplies. “Talkative, too. It’s really cute at 8:30 on a Saturday morning.”  

You feel warmth flood your cheeks.  

“Still, 30 is a big birthday, and they’re doing it with weed?” Garcia says, turning her attention to Spencer. You finish the last file on your desk and turn it in to Prentiss, missing a chunk of their conversation.  

“I do have plans,” you hear Spencer say as you come back towards your desk. “They’re just—they're suited to Y/N. Stuff they’d like in particular.”  

“What, do you have more Dr. Pepper hidden somewhere in the apartment?” You ask. You’ve lived with him for three wonderful months now, and it’s getting better every day. You and Spencer tend to work at similar speeds, and you love driving, so it works out well enough, and you only tend to stay an average of ten minutes later than you would’ve if you lived apart. “I would’ve noticed it, so I don’t think that’s the surprise.”  

Spencer looks at you with a grin as you sit on the edge of his desk, his non dominant hand finding yours as he works.  

“I know you would’ve,” he chuckles. “You have a nose for Dr. Pepper like the police dogs do for illicit substances. It’s hilarious.”  

Garcia looks between the two of you, a bemused sort of smile on her face.  

“Yeah?” You ask, meeting her gaze with a soft smile threatening to show on the edges of your lips.  

“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “I just—I've known Spencer since 2004. Never expected him to find his soulmate in the bullpen, is all. Also, admittedly, didn’t expect his partner to be the wake-and-bake type. I didn’t think the person he loved would use recreationally at all.”  

“Neither did I, for the most part,” Spencer says. “But it runs deeper than that. They’re a fucking genius, Garcia.”  

“Genius and Genius,” she chuckles. “Morgan and I used to call you two Genius squared.”  

Spencer gives your hand a squeeze, and the two of you spend the next fifteen minutes chatting idly with Garcia before she heads to her office to finalize a couple of things and Spencer finishes his last file.  

You pack up your things while Spencer submits the files to Prentiss’ office, and Spencers already got everything packed away anyway so leaving the office is quick, easy, and you’re home for six nearly on the dot.  

“Go and take your edible,” Spencer says, kissing your cheekbone as the two of you stand in the kitchen. “I’ll order a pizza, mm? You can shower and get into comfies if you want, and take a few hits or take your edible, and then food will be here by the time the high has kicked in.”  

“I want to have at least one glass of the sweet wine I have in the wine cabinet,” you respond. “Just with dinner—it won’t hurt, I don’t think.”  

Spencer grins at you nods. “I could tell you all about how bad of an idea that actually is, but—it's your birthday. I’ll save you the details," he says. "And--the surprise from earlier? I bought a bottle of the specific brand you like, mm? The one that's on the more expensive side."

"Spencer Walter Reid, you are my favorite person ever," you blurt, grinning like an idiot.

"Mm, I know," he nods.

You let him kiss your forehead and then go and get the stuff necessary for a shower.  

You pop a 50 miligram edible before getting in, not thinking too much about the fact that your tolerance is usually only at half that. You figure it’s your thirtieth birthday and you deserve to get a little silly, and the feeling of being in just about outer space is something you love when you know you have nothing to worry about the day following because usually, that feeling means you will sleep for fourteen glorious hours.  

You step into the shower when the water is warm enough, rinse off the grit and dirt of the day at work and wash your hair with about as much effort as you can be bothered with for a Friday night.  

You step out, dry off, and change into your outfit for the night—one of Spencers work shirts and a pair of Adidas workout shorts that you typically only wear to sleep. The apartment runs somewhere in the middle of warm and cold, but when you take edibles you tend to get warm pretty fast anyway so the less clothes you’re wearing, the better you’ll feel in the long run.  

By the time you’re back in the kitchen, only forty-five minutes have passed, and the edible hasn’t hit but when it hits, you know it’ll hit you hard.  

Spencer grins the second he sees you, tells you that food has been ordered. You spend the next fifteen minutes talking to Spencer and waiting for both food and the edible to kick in.  

It kicks in right as you’re mid-bite with the first slice of pizza, and from there, it all seems to get better. You and Spencer finish eating, you have two glasses of sweet wine and by nine, the two of you are in bed and you are half asleep and weightless and the feeling of Spencers lips against yours is perfect.  

“How much did you take?” Spencer asks you softly, his lips right beside your ear. The two of you are lying in bed, both on your sides and facing each other. “Your pupils are very dilated.”  

“Fifty milligrams,” you respond. “I know it’s a lot, but I wanted it to be. Feels so good. I love this so much.”  

“I want to be mad at you,” Spencer laughs. “I should be, but you just—it's your life, and it’s your birthday, and you are an oddity for knowingly going above your tolerance.”  

“Yeah, well, I’m an oddity who really wants kisses,” you respond, your filter essentially gone by that point. “Please?”  

“You’re an oddity who once took fifty miligrams and told me that you didn’t think time was real anymore,” Spencer retorts, kissing your nose first. His hand drifts to your hip and you can’t stop the way that you lean into the contact, the action borderlining upon second nature now. “And that you liked weed because it keeps the nightmares away.”  

“It does,” you nod. “But I don’t use it as a crutch—not like I did when I first started out.”  

His lips are against your cheekbone. “I know,” he murmurs against the skin. “You recognized that you needed to step back, and you did. I’m proud of you for that, Y/N.”  

You’d been smoking recreationally on and off since your late teens, but the first six months of your time at the BAU was the heaviest period of use. It took a lot of adjusting to get used to the hectic nature of jobs and cases, but you realized you were relying on the weed way too much and so you took a step back for the year and a half that followed, only smoking maybe five times in an eighteen month period.  

Since then, you only really used on birthdays and days where you had more than three days off. It wasn’t something you did often or as often as you used to, and you didn’t hate that.  

“Thank you,” you respond, because you really don’t know what else to say as his lips kiss down from your cheekbone to your jawline, and then across your chin and to your lips.  

His lips against yours is normally a welcome sort of thing—he's always warm and naturally so are his lips, and he knows what he’s doing and is damn good at doing it, something that you appreciate sober but even more so while stoned.

His thumb rubs across your hip in a manner that you know to be idle, but when his grip tightens as his tongue brushes across your lower lip, you find yourself leaning into the contact as a soft, almost-but-not-quite moan falls off your tongue.  

You can feel Spencer as he smiles into the kiss, a soft laugh falling from him as he does so. “You’re so—you're just--” he sighs into your mouth. “God, you’re so good like this, Y/N.”  

You both know that he knows what he’s doing, and you both know that it’s working.  

Your dynamic is something about which you’d spoken at length when you first started dating—kinks and stuff like that were one of the bigger topics of your private talks before you’d actually started having sex, and that had been for the best in the end because Spencer could read you like an open book, and you’d preferred it that way.  

Your dynamic doesn’t extend super far past the realms of your apartment—Spencer is the dominant type during sex but at work you’re equals and that’s how it’s always been and how it always will be. Both of you like to keep work and private separate, so you do.  

His lips move from your mouth down your jawline and to your neck, and he gently turns the two of you so that he’s on top of you and your back is against the mattress, your head against the pillow.  

“Thief,” he murmurs with a soft chuckle as he unbuttons the shirt of his that you’d stolen, kisses your collarbone open mouthed and languid and perfect.  

You feel weightless, almost like you’re outside of your own body and can only react to what he’s saying without actually saying anything.  

He unbuttons the rest of the shirt and kisses down your chest—you can’t help the way that one of your hands slips into his hair as you feel his lips against you, can’t help the soft sound that falls from your lips as a result of his kisses.  

“Yeah?” Spencer peers up at you as you look down at him, and you just about die on the spot. “You like this, puppy?”  

That specific petname has you needy as ever, and he knows that. He loves it. You can feel how much he loves it in the smile he can barely keep contained as he kisses across your chest, pausing to mouth one of your nipples as his hands drift up and down the scope of your torso in a touch that you know he probably means to be soothing.  

“Oh--” you moan out, the sound soft and needy and wanting. “Oh, fuck—Spencer.”  

“I know,” he murmurs soothingly, his tongue circling around your nipple in a way that has your core clenching and the grip you have on his hair tightening just slightly. “God, you sound so good, pup. Moaning all pretty for me.”  

He switches from one nipple to the other, paying them both the right amount of attention to drive you up the wall a little bit.  

Only after he’s decided your chest has been paid sufficient attention does he kiss down your chest and your navel, lips pressing soft, languid kisses down your navel til he reaches the waistband of your shorts.  

“Lift your hips for me, sweetness,” he murmurs against your skin. You do so automatically, stoned and pliant and feeling so, so fucking submissive. You’re needy and trying not to show that, but all you want are to feel his hands on your body and to hear his praises.  

“Good puppy,” he murmurs as he slides your shorts and underwear off your legs, tossing them to a corner of your shared bedroom. “Where do you want me?”  

You blink—you know exactly what you want, where you want him, but you’re so desperate that you’ll take literally anything.  

“C’mon, puppy,” he murmurs, spreading your legs apart just enough to settle between them. He kisses your inner thigh, open mouthed and warm and oh, God, perfect. “Use your words, pup.”  

“Want your mouth,” you manage. “On--on me.”  

He looks up at you, and you see a grin on his face. “Good puppy,” he repeats, his lips attaching to your clit thereafter.  

The suddenness of the contact makes a surprised, almost wanton kind of moan fall off your lips, and you arch up into the contact. Your back arches off the bed slightly as Spencers hands find your hips to hold you in place, though it’s not long before one of his hands drifts up and takes yours instead of holding you down.  

He knows, very well, what he’s doing with his mouth at this point. His tongue circles your clit a few times before he sets a pace that he knows will be almost enough but not quite, eventually lets go of your hand and brings it deliciously down the side of your torso, and then your thigh. He uses that hand to prop your leg up on the mattress, slipping it beneath the gap the action had created.  

When you feel one finger gently slip into your core, the moan you let out is lewd, wanting, and almost careless, in a way. It makes Spencer chuckle and you moan again as you feel the sound against your core.  

“You make such pretty sounds for me, puppy,” He says, moving his lips off of your clit. “And you’re so fucking wet, too—God."  

You don’t have a response to muster, only grind against his finger in response. He adds another into the mix, thrusting it in slowly as he watches you with keen eyes.  

“Good puppy,” he praises, mouthing at your inner thigh. “You’re always such a good pup when you’re stoned, Y/N, but then—you're a good puppy all the time. Always so willing, so ready.”  

You would genuinely sacrifice any and everything for his touch, stoned or sober it doesn’t matter. It’s the truth.  

He curls his fingers in at just the right angle, and when you grind down into the wave of euphoria the action generates, he chuckles.  

“So needy,” he murmurs, mouthing at your thigh again. “Gonna come for me, puppy?”  

You whimper, grinding down onto his fingers again, and he looks up at you and nods.  

“You’re allowed to come,” he kisses your clit once. “It’s your birthday, and I’m not cruel. I’m not gonna edge you tonight.”  

You set a pace with your hips and Spencer lets you, his mouth reattaching to your clit and his tongue moving at the pace he knows you like most.  

When you do come, there’s not a whole lot of warning—you manage to moan out a soft “fuck--”, but that’s all that you can get before you feel yourself tightening around Spencers fingers, feel your core fluttering in the aftermath of your orgasm as Spencer slowly thrusts his digits a few more times to help you ride out the high.  

He licks his fingers clean while you watch, unable to take your eyes off of him as he does so. He notices your stare and grins, comes back up to your level and kisses you with an open mouth.  

You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it’s both intoxicating and wonderful. You miss the contact of his lips when he pulls away, but watching the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips in the aftermath of your kiss is like an almost religious experience.  

He cups your face with one hand, uses his other arm to prop himself up on his elbow. “You did so good,” he praises. “D’you want--”  

“Whatever it is, the answer is yes,” you nod. “I want you. I want more. I need to feel—oh my God, Spencer, I just--” you’re needy and wanting and achy and stoned and the stoned-ness of it compacts the rest of it all, makes it worse.  

He kisses your cheek, nuzzles against you just a little. “I know, puppy,” he murmurs. “Just gotta give me a second, mm? Need to get out of all these clothes.”  

You nod, watch him turn away and sit up. You watch him undo his tie and then the buttons on his shirt before he pulls it off, and when he stands up to pull his pants and boxers off of his legs, he sees you staring and does a bit of staring himself.  

“Fuck,” he chuckles. “Have you always looked this good in my shirts?”  

You shrug. “They look better on you,” you respond. “With your ties and your cardigans. I fell in love with a grandpa in the body of a thirty-six year old.”  

He shakes his head, laughing still. “You look like something out of a renaissance painting,” he says. “All spread out and gorgeous. I could just worship you for hours without getting sick of it.”  

You bite your bottom lip as he grabs a condom, and you watch him roll it onto himself with an entranced sort of look in your eyes.  

He climbs back onto the bed, propping himself up on an elbow again and looking at you with a grin. “You sure?”  

“I am so, so sure,” you nod. “Spencer, please--”  

You grind up into it when you feel his tip lined up with your entrance, unable to stop it. It ilicits a soft groan from Spencer, who slowly thrusts himself into you until he’s at the hilt.  

“I love you,” he says. “Fuck, Y/N. I love you so much.”  

You moan out something incoherent, and one hand goes to your hip while he uses his other arm to prop himself up on an elbow still.  

He waits til you’ve given the all clear to start thrusting, and sets a pace that the both of you thoroughly enjoy.  

Your eyes flutter closed at some point throughout, and when his lips locate the spot behind your ear, you’re just about entirely gone.  

He quickens the pace just a little, and your moans and soft whimpers coincide with the sounds of his groans and the softest moans you think you’ve ever heard leave his lips.  

It’s not long, between his kisses and his praise and the sheer way in which he thrusts into you, before your release washes over you. Your release triggers his, and his thrusts become a little bit sloppy as the two of you ride out your orgasms.  

He pulls away just enough to plant a kiss on your forehead, and pulls out in that same movement. He stands and discards the condom and you wobble off to the bathroom to take a piss, rebuttoning your shirt after you’ve washed your hands and cleaned yourself off. 

You locate your underwear and shorts, pull them on as Spencer changes into a pair of sweatpants and objects to otherwise remain shirtless.  

The two of you wind up in bed, Spencers hands moving through your hair and his focus on you entirely.  

“I adore you,” he says. “Even stoned out of your head, even yearny and wanting and all kiss deprived.”  

You grin, zoning out because the feeling of his hand carding through your hair is like magic in your current state.  

“I adore you too,” you murmur. “So much.”  

“You’re stoned,” Spencer chuckles, kissing your nose softly. “You’re still so stoned, Y/N.”  

“It’s that obvious?”  

“I’ve been in love with you for eighteen months,” he says. “I can read you really well.”  

Your eyes close, and you sigh contentedly. “Just keep talking,” you murmur. “I wanna fall asleep with your voice as the backing track, Spence. Please.”  

He keeps talking, and the last thing you hear before you drift off is a soft “happy birthday, my love.”  

You and Spencer sleep happily and contented that night, not a worry running through either of your heads as you drift off.  

[strdstwanderer]

If Jason Todd really wants to kill the Joker, he should become a prosecutor.

Gotham CITY (emphasis added) makes no sense to me. It is the only CITY in all of DC comics where a supervillain goes to an asylum and not prison. Almost every supervillain goes to Arkham for criminal insanity instead of prison. Blackgate exists. Iron Heights exists. It's so bad that the idea of Bruce Wayne beating up the mentally ill became such a prevalent misconception of the character and Arkham became a shorthand for Gotham's supermax prison.

In the United States, there are four major tests for criminal insanity or not guilty by reason of insanity defense.

The M'Naghten Rule, Irresistable Impulse, Duhram Rule, and the Model Penal Code. Each STATE in the country uses at least a variation of this. Without getting into the weeds of them, the main takeaway is that they test wether:

1. The defendant had a mental illness or defect.

2. The mental illness or defect made them unable to conform to the law.

3. The mental illness or defect makes them unable to appreciate the wrongfulness of their action.

Only a handful of Batman villains fall under these criteria. Off the top of my head, Harvey Dent and the Ventriloquist. Characters like Ivy, Freeze, Manbat, or Bane don't fall into any of these criteria.

Joker does not fall in these criteria either. He knows what does is wrong. He isn't compelled to do what he's doing because of his mental illness or defect if one such exists. If Jason wanted him dead, he could just be a prosecutor and argue against Joker's criminal insanity.

But what about him breaking out?

That's why I highlighted the words City and State. These laws on what defines Criminal Insanity are either in State Statutes or Federal ones. There are no local city ordinances that define criminal insanity because the State legislature controls that. That means if Washington State follows the Model Penal Code, then Seattle applies it the same as Spokane.

Look at every city in the DC Universe. Villains go to prison, never asylums. It only ever applies in Gotham. In some versions, Gotham is across the bay from Metropolis. So, assuming they share a stare, then Metropolis should be sending people like Luthor, Toyman, and Livewire to an asylum too since their laws for what criminal insanity is should be the same as Gotham's (same state and all). But no. Gotham is a legal anomaly.

Jason as an attorney can advocate for a uniform application of State statute. Maybe even convince the State to appeal the trial court's judgment regarding Joker's defense.

One could argue that Gotham is corrupt. Sure. But there's no business sense for the local crime families to lobby for all the costumed freaks to go to one easily-breakable asylum instead of prison. Cobblepot being sent there makes sense in that reading, but Joker?! Plus, we're talking about a whole State, not a just a city. So it'd be unlikely that a handful of Gotham crime families can convince the State to let Joker go to Arkham. Especially if the State can somehow resist Luthor enough to send him to prison.

But how does this kill the Joker? The Death Penalty. Joker would be more than eligible for it. Although, the Death Penalty does take a long time before it gets actually conducted.

I just think it's a lost opportunity not to have a Batman legal drama where Jason becomes a prosecutor hellbent on sending the Joker, and all other villains, to prison. It would give Bruce a moral dilemma where on hand, Jason is doing everything by the books, but his intent is to kill others using the death penalty. What should Bruce do? Should Batman intervene? Should Bruce lobby for the removal of the Death Penalty? Should Bruce provide Joker with legal counsel to combat Jason?

[hashvillerealestate]

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[officiallyossy-haywooddent]

I know a guy, how much d’ya want?

I need aspirin omg

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Don Moynihan at Can We Still Govern?:

Trump has normalized unfounded attacks on lots of people, but public servants in particular. We have seen this at every level of government, whether it be librarians, school teachers, public health or election officials. Whether Trump wins or loses, I worry that this practice will remain a feature of the contemporary American state. Trumpism has fed an era of sustained harassment of public officials even when he was not in power, and for state and local officials that the federal government has no control over.

This is happening while we are seeing an interesting conversation happening about how to revitalize American state capacity. But I don’t see how we can have that conversation while ignoring that more and more American public servants are being asked to live under conditions of terror. Previously, I wrote about the attack on federal employees by Tom Jones and his slime machine, the American Accountability Foundation, funded by the Heritage Foundation and the Conservative Partnership Institute. Jones is conducting opposition research on civil servants with the intent of identifying those that Trump should fire once he returns to office. He has since started releasing the names of “targets”, starting with Department of Homeland Security. “Targets” is not exactly subtle.

A nothingburger case for firing federal officials

The site posts the civil servants name, picture, title and salary. But the actual accusations are weak tea. This is the evidence for firing the “top 10 targets” who we must assume are the worst of the worst, providing the most damning cases:

Worked for American Bar Association, Catholic Charities or other “far left” organizations which help immigrants

Praised Anthony Fauci in a tweet

Worked as an immigration lawyer or public defense attorney

Has credit card debt

Worked for immigration advocacy groups

Said that “homegrown extremism” and “misinformation” were homeland security threats, or served on a disinformation board

Supports DC statehood

Has donated to Democratic politicians in the past - including $10 to Elizabeth Warren in 2019

Donated to LGBTQ supportive groups

Spoke on a diversity panel, spoke on a panel called “The Role of Social Workers in Immigration Legal Services Organizations.”

Was listed on DHS press releases as a point of contact to provide more information about administration policies

Implemented Biden era policies, like setting up virtual screening processes for immigrants, or adding third gender option on citizenship documents

Social media posts critical of Trump and his immigration policies, supportive of immigrants, acknowledging systemic racism

Wrote a law review article critical of the treatment of mentally ill immigrants in detention facilities

Guilt by association: “is on good terms with notorious bureaucrat”

Won an award for excellent performance in her job (I’m not kidding, see below), which means she can't be trusted. Another won an award for helping Afghan and Ukraine refugees resettle in the United States.

So, no actual scandals! The officials are criticized in many cases for simply doing their job, or expressing generic liberal opinions. (If you think I am misrepresenting anything, here is the link to the profiles). Having job-relevant experience is bad, if its suggest any empathy with immigrants. Being good at your job is bad (so much for the claim that Schedule F is there to weed out poor performers). Sharing the same views of homeland security threats that the FBI does: also bad! In no case is there any claim that the actions are illegal, or the statements the employees made were wrong. Without Schedule F, no career official could be fired for these actions. With Schedule F, they are gone.

[...]

Terror and formal power go hand in hand

It is also a categorical error to distinguish between formal powers (in this case, the proposal that Trump use Schedule F to fire the employees) with informal modes of intimidation. When I talk with people studying government, both journalists and researchers, they focus a great deal on the formal authority. But I don’t think MAGAworld sees it in those terms. They see the use of intimidation as central to their goals.

Jones is already well connected with Project 2025, and people who will staff a second Trump administration. He could simply hand them a list of names of the people he thinks should be fired. But the publicity is part of the point. They can’t fire everyone, but they can scare a lot of people into submission. For terror to work, it needs public executions. It needs guillotines. It needs fear. They can weaponize the conservative information ecosystem — from the more respectable media like Fox, to followers who will leave threatening emails and voicemails for people they are told are their enemies — to achieve their full effect.

Jones is not an outlier. Likely Trump appointees have been explicit in threatening career officials. Robert F. Kennedy, the anti-science kook who has said that Trump promised to give him control over health policy, with oversight of HHS, CDC, FDA, NIH “a few others” and the USDA, told FDA officials to “pack their bags.” In the real world, RFK would not be trusted to run a school lunch program. In Trumpworld, he will not just have the ability to impose his whackdoodle ideas on real scientists; he can fire the ones who dare to call him on his bullshit.

[...]

For example, the same people who brought down Harvard President Claudine Gay, and who specialize in accusing Black scholars of plagiarism, recently went after Kamala Harris with the same accusations. The project of surveillance, control and threat includes encouraging students to engage in snitch culture, in the hope of getting their fellow students or faculty into trouble. Charlie Kirk’s operation started with creating a watchlist of “radical professors” before Turning Point became a huge organization fueling campus surveillance. Some states have changed the law to encourage students to record professors to report ideologically suspect comments (they do this in China too). American Accountability Foundation encourages people to send in reports about rogue bureaucrats to its tipline.

Don Moynihan has a solid piece on how Donald Trump seeks to remake the civil services in his fascistic image if he elected again.

[jeezypetes]

You wouldn’t think it bc of the uptightedness differential between the neighboring cities but dc has wayyyyy better weed stores than Baltimore. Thats bc for like six plus years before recreational became legal in Maryland it was in a sort of legal grey area in DC where an establishment couldn’t Sell weed but could give it away as a free gift which led to a lot of creative business practices which led to a more fun and chill vibe, like weed stores in Alaska. And in DC they have shrooms

[giving-tree-dc]

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One of the main reasons people choose edibles is for their subtlety. Since you don’t need to light up, it’s easy to consume a gummy or a small snack without drawing attention. Edibles also tend to have more prolonged effects compared to smoking, making them especially popular with medicinal users who need long-lasting relief.

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[nokidsalloweddc]

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[commie-leatherfemme]

If I am elected president, in my first 90 days I will:

Institute vehicle-specific gas pumps with the "non-commercial truck" pump set to $12/gallon

Legalize weed

Illegalize christianity

Make Marx and Lenin required reading in high school

Put every city under control of local Black leadership

SEAL hits on every CEO, stockbroker and landlord

Change the national anthem to Cop Killer by Body Count

Paint pride flags on every white marble government building in DC

Distribute military hardware (including tanks, fighters, bombers, artillery and helicopters) to every Indigenous tribal organization. Land back plus the tools to keep it in their hands.

Replace "in god we trust" with "Wu Tang ain't nothin to fuck with" on all currency

Disband every police force, leave all cops naked in the middle of prisons, then open all doors.

All prisoners are now free, but if they kill a cop on their way out they get that cop's house, car, pension and anything else of value they owned.

Free healthcare for all, including gender affirming care, abortion, and birth control. Any cis man who wants Viagra though will be required to prove he can use his dick responsibly

So vote for me in November and together we can destroy this country and remake it as something worth being proud of

[skiasurveys]

survey #idk

I have Traveled To:

More than three states in the US

Mexico

Canada (tech i live here)

A place that starts with the letter L

Austria

An island

A big city

Anywhere in Africa

Japan

A place where English is not the main language

Anywhere in the southern hemisphere

India

Netherlands

I Have Read:

Any of the Bible

At least two Harry Potter books

The entire Twilight series

Catch-22

Animal Farm

A Dr. Seuss book

Instructions to a piece of Ikea information

A warning label that made me laugh

A biography/autobiography

Dante’s Inferno

A Chuck Palahniuk book

A newspaper in the last week

Something that made me cry

I Like to Eat:

Spam

Mexican food

Brussell sprouts

Onions

Watermelon

Vegan food

Bacon

Chocolate

New things

Escargot

Hummus

Haggis

Indian food

Home cooking

Fast food

My Favorite Actors Include:

Mark Wahlberg

Morgan Freeman

James Franco

Leonardo DiCaprio

Robert DeNiro

Samuel L. Jackson

Chris Hemsworth

Elijah Wood

Johnny Depp

Steve Buscemi

Robin Williams

Jack Black

Channing Tatum

I Have Listened to These Bands:

Taylor Swift

AC/DC

Jay-Z

Frank Sinatra

Pink Floyd

Fall Out Boy

Incubus

No Doubt

The White Stripes

Skrillex

Tenacious D

Metallica

Britney Spears

Ke$ha

The Beatles

I Have/Had These Pets:

Dog

Cat

Horse

Bird

Hamster

Lizard

Snake

Guinea Pig

Goat

Fish

Mouse

Spider

Pig

Hedgehog

Ferret

I Have Seen These Movies:

Fifth Element

Gone With the Wind

Nightmare Before Christmas

High School Musical

Kickin’ It Old School

Casablanca

Predator

White Men Can’t Jump

AVATAR

12 Years A Slave

Saving Private Ryan

MASH

Mamma Mia!

Dark Shadows

Riding In Cars With Boys

If I Could Have A Super Power, I Would Choose:

Mind control

Mind reading

Teleportation

Flying

Bullet-proof

Speed

Super-strength

Invisibility

All-Knowing

X-Ray vision

Freeze-touch

Time traveling

Invulnerability

Telekenisis

I Am Scared of:

Clowns

Heights

Spiders

Open spaces

Small spaces

Vacuums

Snakes

Needles

Strangers

Michael Myers

Bugs

Tiny holes

Highways

Germs

Police

My Favorite Color Is:

Red

Yellow

Orange

Green

Blue

Purple

Gray

Black

Brown

White

Pink

I Am Currently Wearing:

A t-shirt

A hoodie

Capris

Shoes

A bra

Make-up

Perfume

Deodorant

Hat

Something with a superhero/symbol on it

Nail polish

Scarf

Pajamas

Boxers

Sweatpants

I Would Describe My Best Friend As:

Bossy

Intelligent

Promiscuous

Funny

Whiny

Honest

Reliable

Loyal

Lazy

Adventurous

Unique

Complicated

Open-minded

Well-read

In the Last 24 Hours, I Have:

Read

Drank alcohol

Had sex

Eaten meat 

Danced in public

Went swimming

Changed my clothes more than once

Said something mean

Cleaned

Spent money on something pointless

Sang aloud

Met someone new

Played a game of some sort

Things In the Room With Me Now Are:

A TV

Another person

Something that belongs to a child

A pet

Food

Bed

Art

Clock not connected to a phone/computer

A mirror

Medicine

Books

Drugs or alcohol

The Last Person I Texted Is:

My significant other

Someone who sucks at spelling

A different race than me

A relative

Someone I don’t really like

Someone I went to high school with

My best friend

A person I work with

At home

In the room with me

Knows more than one language 

Is female

Is under the age of 21

Someone I live with

I Am For:

Abortion

Death penalty

Amnesty

Gun control

Gay marriage

Prayer in school

War in the middle east

Marijuana legalization

Banning cigarettes in public places

Higher taxes

Higher minimum wage

Standardized testing

Lowering the legal age for drinking

I Have Committed These Crimes:

Jaywalking

Smoking weed

Shooting heroin

Shoplifting

Breaking & entering

Public intoxication

Hit & Run

Speeding

Opening someone else’s mail without their permission

Burglary

Vehicular manslaughter

Lying under oath

Truancy

I Took These Classes In High School/College:

Home Ec

Physics

Photography

Criminal Justice

Journalism

Debate

Creative Writing

Art

Music Theory

Philosophy

French

Theater

Choir

Psychology

What I Watch On TV:

Reality shows about celebrities

Game shows

News

Reruns of classic shows

Award shows

Modern Family

Doctor Who

Scandal

Infomercials

HSN

MTV

Singing competitions

Cooking shows

Traveling shows