#and I needed someone who would help me if I get falsely arrested again'

[kayoi1234]

Back at it with my Genshin cold takes because I think there should be a character that is just Genius Invokation’s strongest hater. Born a hater what can they do lmao. Why is every positive or neutral towards it give me someone who seethes eveytime they see someone playing it would be so funny.

#img #kayoi bullshits again #genshin impact #genius invokation tcg #oh yeah the last flagship #listen #tcg is one of those things that I don't care about #i'm rather neutral #but my god was I sad that my (completely unfounded in canon) theory about it being cursed was wrong #no they had to be 'a sad background so you play more tcg' #also if the player character is my self insert why can't I say that 'Yeah Kazuha I know about this popular card game. Oh you want to play?' #'don't look at me I hardly play. I just got the cards so other people will shut up' #'cyno threatened to cut me off if I said I don't play #and I needed someone who would help me if I get falsely arrested again' #like where are my tcg haters in the game

[backwzzds]

Toji getting out jail and showing us some appreciation 🙈🙈

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ daddy’s home, toji fushiguro (nsfw)

omg bc prison bf!toji would be something interesting.

the story would be that before prison, toji was the ORIGINAL scammer. all these mfs his sons forreal. of course with being a hired professional hitman, it came with its financial perks, all of which he’d used to spoil his pretty little princess.

you lived comfortably well. you’d known toji since he was just a bum scrounging for any type of work, so you actually got to see the come up frfr. though you’ve always loved him from the start (even when he was broke), he was nearly 10 years older than you. just in your early twenties, you always told him—you did not deserve any type of struggle love. and a struggle life toji lived indeed. you assured him that if he was really about you the way he always swore he was—he’d do whatever he could to support for you.

and support for you he did!

it wasn’t anything about being a gold digger—you just had standards. toji chased after you for years and you loved it—but you knew you deserved better when he couldn’t even take care of himself. by the graces of whoever allowed him to stumble upon a secret job that could land him 1 mil cash—500 upfront as a deposit and the rest later—toji was yours the moment he proved to you he could take care of you indefinitely.

ass ironic as this sounds, he was actually arrested on false charges. the nature of the charges were true on everything—but the actual person they were accusing him of executing and murdering, he simply did not do. the courts didn’t care though, they just needed someone to hang for it and make an example out of them. that led to toji being sentenced to life in prison.

but thanks to his crooked ass lawyer, the piece of shit was out in 6 years.

you nervously tapped your acrylic nails on the pink wrap of your car as you leaned against the passenger side of the door. it seemed as if today was release day for a few other prisoners, seeing as a group of men walked out with plastic bags, all while staring you down. your arms remained crossed over your fat tits barely being able to breathe in the baby tee you wore to accompany your long flowy skirt as you awaited for your own man to re-enter the world again.

the minute another person leaves the building, your eyes meet with the familiar man’s. it was almost as if your energy was instantly drawn to his, because you immediately recognized him off the bat. toji is blown away by your beauty. you were always fine, but damn, watching you outside of a bulletproof plexi glass was top tier when he finally got to see your fuller ass and pudgy stomach in person again.

the second he’s in your vicinity again, instead of doing the normal thing like hugging him—you slapped the shit out of him.

“ow’!” toji groans. “fuck was that for?!” the old man rubs the spot you hit him in, giving you a fearful look. toji didn’t fear anyone or anything, but you had to be at the top of that list, especially when you were upset.

you give him a knowing look with your hands on your hips. toji rolls his eyes and grips your waist, “tch, i told ya i didn’t do that shit!” he groaned, referencing the one crime he was actually innocent for. “but with all the trouble that dead bastard put me through, wish it was me.”

you mirror his previous actions and do a double take in his physique. you weren’t the only one who got finer. toji’s waist got smaller—probably from starving himself like you told the fucker not to—but his build was more muscular, yet lean. he had an unimaginable number of new tattoos hidden under his normal clothes, and you couldn’t even think about what more laid hidden beneath his thick jeans.

toji fully notices your gawking eyes and gives you a cocky smirk with the scar on his lip fully rising. “miss me mama?” a smile can’t help but form on your own lips as you embrace him in a tight hug. not feeling the love enough, toji wraps his arms underneath you, fully lifting you from the ground. with your legs now around his waist, you were finally face to face with the man of your life.

toji leans into you and pecks your lip ever so lightly. with the sun in his view, he still got the best look of just how perfect you really were. “i missed ya,” he says so low, you barely catch it. “missed ya so much. went crazy dozens of times from you not being with me.”

it was strange for toji to be so vulnerable. but his time under made him realize just how ungrateful he really was for all the great things in his life. how ungrateful he really was for you. he vowed that when he did get out—if ever—he wouldn’t waste a minute without reminding you how he felt about his little girl.

with a proud smile on your face, you run your manicured thumb over the callous of his aging skin. you kiss the small scars there and then his lips. snuggling your head in his neck, you whisper, “let’s go home daddy.”

and that was how you ended up here, face down and ass up into your own mattress.

“you gonna tell daddy you missed him yet?” toji grunted while thrusting in and out of you. the ripples of your fat ass had him in a trance. “been almost seven years since i been in this pretty pussy’a yours. think i deserve at least that, baby.”

you whine into your pillow, drool pooling from the sides of your mouth. you wanted to play stubborn; let toji know that if he ever went to jail for something so stupid again, he wasn’t gonna see you or your pussy he loved so much.

your silence results in a hard slap to your ass. “ahh!” you yelp out, leaning forward into your white duvet. with another harsh smack and then the smooth rubbing of his large hand, toji smirked at the reddening imprint forming on the terrain of your pretty brown ass. “this ain’t about you!” you can’t help but seethe out to his previous statement. your voice is muffled by the fluff of your pillow, “i suffered these last seven years. not you.”

toji slows in his movements. you were so right. he knew how much you longed for him. your big hunky man that walked the streets with you 24/7 was no longer by your side to protect you like he usually did. he left you open. he left you vulnerable. though he’s had his people, geto and gojo watching over you, it wasn’t enough, you constantly slept in fear. you walked in fear. you lived in fear.

you didn’t know why, but suddenly all the emotion you felt in the past seven years came flooding to you. tears flowed from your eyes and you were crying. but from the pulsing grip your pussy had around his dick, toji knew you wanted more.

“look at me,” toji’s voice is muffled. when you made no effort to move, too ashamed to rven be crying at a time like this, toji pulls out of you and softly grabs you by the hips, turning you over so that your back was no against the mattress and you were facing him.

swiftly, the older man slides back into you, but this time moves inside you with more care. toji’s body is so close to yours, your hard nipples are brushing against his own with every thrust he makes.

“‘m sorry,” toji whispers with every rut into you. “daddy’s so sorry baby. didn’t mean to abandon you the way i did.” you could hear the genuineness in his tone as he stops fucking you, but begins to make love to you. “can’t imagine how scared you must’a been these past few years. haven’t been taking care of you the way i promised all those years ago.”

more tears flow from your eyes as toji brings you to your building orgasm slowly. “know you can’t forgive me for being so stupid ‘n careless now. ‘s gonna take some time. i know that. but jus’ lemme in again mama. let daddy back into your heart ‘n i promise i’ll take acre of you again.”

“daddy,” you sob. “‘m close,” is the only words that could leave your mouth. “don’t leave me, please. ‘m so close.” you were begging to cum, but deep down toji knew you were also begging him to stay.

toji brings his hand down to your pretty pussy and rubs at your clit as his lips engulf in yours. with just a few touches, you were creaming over his fingers and crying into his mouth.

“never gonna leave you again, mama. daddy’s home now.”

#lora’s fics! ೄྀ࿐ #dilf toji #toji x black reader #toji fushiguro x black reader #toji fushiguro x chubby reader #toji x chubby reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x chubby reader #jjk toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #jjk x reader

[teaveetamer]

show me where someone said they wanted to put a bullet in you specifically. Never happened. By the way I care more about helping the innocent and wrongly imprisoned than anything on here or discord. I donate to the innocence project every month. I'm also sending money to a falsely accused guy in a very high profile homicide case, though I will not specify who. I raise awareness of official misconduct and how touch DNA has been used to wrongly convict people. That's my calling in life. What are you doing to help people in a worse situation than you. Probably nothing

I wasn't going to publish these but honestly, I have to point this out. Either this is Raxis, Vagrantsea, one of the people in the death threat screenshots, or some other party that has been directly involved in the harassment... or this is a COMPLETE rando with NO stakes in this conflict trying to convince me that if THEY are a good person, that somehow makes the people who harassed me justified to harass me. If it's the latter, that just elevates this ENTIRE ask to the level of absurdist comedy and I can't not share that. Like, imagine if you saw someone get mugged, it's on video, and as they're being arrested a complete rando who doesn't know anyone involved jumps in to be like "no they couldn't have mugged anyone, because I donate to charity!" But for the sake of argument, we're going to assume this comes from someone actually directly involved.

So first, congratulations! I hope you do actually do all of those things. But also, what a weaselly, pathetic little argument to make in response to me, again, talking about how I've gotten death threats and harassment. "You weren't harassed even though there's screenshots of it, and even if you were I'm actually a GOOD PERSON, SEE!"??? What exactly do you expect my response to be here? "Oh well I've been getting stalked and harassed but anon donated to the innocence project, so I guess I can't be upset anymore"? Would you also think it's okay for someone to beat their spouse at home as long as they donated to a homeless shelter sometimes, or can we acknowledge that doing a good thing doesn't cancel out the shitty things you do?

And sure, since you asked, I do in fact do things IRL to help people in a worse situation than me. It's, like, my actual job. I also don't bring that up at every opportunity, unlike you apparently, because I'm not a cowardly little rat who needs to hide behind the suffering of marginalized and abused communities to justify stalking people and sending them death treats over a PNG girlie. I'm sorry if what you've done to me has made you feel like a bad person, but that's entirely your own damn fault for doing it. If you want to prove you're a good person, then maybe it's time you stop trying to justify and excuse your shitty behavior and start taking responsibility for it.

[hopelessdreams-bianhablog]

Past lover,now stranger...?(yan string gummy cookie x reader)

Request by 🗝️anon

Hope you enjoy!!I also hope I didn't fall your hope:'D

WARNING:had mentioned about obsession, timekeeper being a mf,had mentioned murder and threatened

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the timeline,or let's say,the timeline that string gummy get saved by director croissant and lived in before,you and him, always used to be a lovely couple! Working together..Living together... just, anything couples would do, you guys always do it together, even sometimes he may get important missions that you can't go with,it never break the connections between you guys .

But you know,not everything can be that..... perfect. After he successfully break all the time manipulators and break the time travel clock thing in the Clock Square.The whole timeline of the false future,get deleted from the existence, except himself.That also means,the one that who used to be his lover, disappeared within the timeline and his director too

So now here he is, working in the timeline that he should originally in.But,did that really mean he already get through the things that just happened,the lost of his director,the lost of YOU..?

Until one day, croissant introduce string gummy a new worker!wait..... that's YOU!

Then the next moment,you get hug tight by this red hair man,that literally sobbing.Even don't know why,as don't ask too cuz that may offend him,you give some pats as to comfort,try to calm him down. And didn't hear that he seem mumbling something

enough for Prequel ,now let's get straight to the yandere part !

You will find that string gummy started to help you around with stuff,I mean is literally like everything-even it's just some simple things that you don't even ask for help,he will still helping.

He also attached to you, literally just like a personal guardian, follow you around when he didn't had a mission or someone needs his help .And somehow glare at the cookies that just asking things Sometimes you can notice he seem trying to hold your hand,as you assume it's normal,you guys are Friends! Those physical interaction are fine!... Right?

He also is now determined to keep this timeline safe and sound,as he doesn't want to lost You again (maybe will kill the time criminals and not arrested them so he can ensure they can't doing a threatening to this timeline again,who knows?)

The missions now the director give you seem starting to be weird.... like fixing a machine in a dark room with string gummy cookie,and -with door locked?-even more weird missions that similar with these, like the director trying to get you and him more close but-oh well,you already heard that the director like to give out weird missions-that probably normal too- don't you agree?

Slowly, you finally notice something was WRONG.Everytime when you guys doing the weird missions, string just getting... very close? you know the places maybe narrow,but you still feel that he is getting close on purposes, and the cookies suddenly keep distance and missing... you can't lie to yourself anymore,but you don't had a proof....that question keep bugging you until.....

"well,did you know that poor cookie was your lover in a timeline before ~?ofc I didn't expect you to know!He even make deals with me, just to get more close to you and get you love him back!Oh also,do you wonder why the some other cookies seem trying to keep distance??Oh don't worry,you did nothing wrong!He just threatened them!these all are entertaining to see you know ~:DD?Of he being obsessed over YOU~!”

....Oh god,The suddenly informations that make you.... horrified,why the director suddenly told you these??Sure, you may love him in other timelines.But,not this one ...the thoughts of him.. being obsessive...You think you need a talk with him later,so maybe he will understand,You didn't love him here ,so he won't trying on no return anymore...?

Ignoring the amused smile on the director face,you open the door and try to leave , but a familiar figure block your way

..... String gummy cookie

You gulp,he wouldn't eavesdrop the whole thing behind the door, would he?Before you can say anything,a stunning bullet hit you,knock you out immediately.Oh well, looks like you had fallen into a forever trap

But don't worryyyy,he will take good care of you!he will serve you ,and give you everything you need! but the cost is,you need to live in the basement from now on (ofc that god damnit director borrow the TBD basement for her own amusement )

After all,he is just care about you!But try to not piss him off for your own good!If you don't want to get hurt and more cookies went missing

"I know it maybe selfish to you,but it's necessary for us.I can't let you go and disappear in front of my eyes again "

Oh yea,one thing,he literally just hold his gun beside your neck in case you will stay still and listen to him

#string gummy cookie x reader #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run #string gummy cookie #string gummy x reader #yandere cookie run x reader #yandere cookie run #yandere string gummy cookie #yandere cookie run ovenbreak x reader #yandere string gummy cookie x reader #yandere cookie run ovenbreak

[krazyforkicks]

Continued from here

CW: Blood, stitches, mouth whump, eye whump, anxiety, gunshot mention, sedation

Blind and mute from stitches in their lips and eyelids, the pet curled into the fetal position in a corner. Their master had someone over. The pet could hear muted conversation above them.

The hours ticked by and all the pet could do was hope that their master wouldn't bring their company downstairs. Sometimes they would bring company down to 'visit'. Sometimes the pet got lucky and was left alone.

After what seemed like an eternity, the voices and footsteps faded into obscurity, implying that the visitors had gone and the pet's master had retired for the night. Now, perhaps the pet could sleep a little too.

♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤

Bang—

The pet jerked awake, wincing in pain as they reflexively tried to open their eyes. They felt blood begin to drip from the stitches again. Upstairs, something big was happening. There was more banging. Banging and shouting. For a moment, the pet thought they heard a gunshot..?

The pet cowered, curling up as small as possible in the corner.

Bang—

The door to their prison opened with such explosive force that it sent a tremor through the room. The pet whimpered, covering their head.

The voice that sounded from the door was the familiar voice of their master, but... it was saying things that didn't make any sense...

"Police! If there's anyone in here, come out with your hands up!"

Confused and fearful, the pet shakily raised their hands above their head. Why was their master playing this... game..? Was all of the banging and shouting their doing?

"I need medical in here! I found someone!" The voice shouted. Another voice shouted back a response.

So their master had pulled more people into this..? Were they trying to scare them? Give them false hope?

"Can you tell me your name?" Their master's voice asked, getting closer.

The pet shrunk back further into the corner, attempting to become one with the wall.

"Oh... Oh my— What in the hell..? Your... mouth's been stitched closed..? Holy shit— your eyes too— hey, it's gonna be okay, alright? We're going to get you help."

The pet flinched as a hand touched their arm. What was happening?? Why was their master acting like this?? Were they really a police officer? If so— no. It didn't make any sense!

"Hey, hey, take a breath. You're safe now. No one else is going to hurt you. The person who did this to you is already in a squad car under arrest."

The pet wanted to scream. They didn't understand. They didn't understand.

Moments later, the pet found themself being moved to a bed or a stretcher or something relatively comfortable that was then carried somewhere else. Despite the glimmer of comfort, the pet was only getting more confused and anxious, to the point were they started to fight back. Just a little, not much, but they pushed away hands and refused to lie down flat, opting instead to cover their head and curl into a tight ball.

"We're going to have to sedate them." The pet heard someone say above them. Someone else agreed and before the pet could do anything, they were being physically restrained with uncharacteristically gentle voices promising they were safe and when they woke up everything would be okay.

The pet didn't believe them. No— no! They wanted to be let go! Although they were tired and weak, they fought to get their arms free, sobbing through sealed lips, tearing at the stitches. In a moment, however, everything began to fade. Soon, everything was black.

#whump #whumpee #blood #tw blood #stitches #tw stitches #mouth whump #tw mouth whump #eye whump #tw eye whump #anxiety #tw anxiety #gunshot mention #tw gunshot mention #sedation #tw sedation #whumper #rescue? #whump drabble #whump fic #whump community #emotional whump

[dadbodbobby]

Little rant I’ve been sitting on for a few days.

What’s fucking ridiculous about some fandom spaces is that you can see the most violent, sexist, racist, Latinophobic, and etc. fics/prompts/headcanons that are honestly terrifying and white people (men) worshipping. And not only are they prompted, written, believed by grown ass adults, (usually not like 18-21, no, they’re usually at least fucking 30), and so forth, but the moderators and other people who’ve volunteered to keep an eye out for harmful things in the spaces, DONT DO SHIT UNLESS YOU TAG THEM.

I wouldn’t mind if it’s every now and again, they’re only human, but said space is filled to the brim with these rancid ass things other people have to witness every day.

And the excuses they and other people make is WILD, and honestly reminiscent of the “correct the uwu innocent baby nicely” tone policing that a lot of marginalized people face.

If you don’t have enough people to moderate the space then you either need to get more people to help you or to SHUT IT DOWN, because it’s gotten too big for you, because keeping spaces safe is LITERALLY YOUR FUCKING JOB.

Things I’ve seen:

White man (intentionally) falsely accused of sexual assualt and abused by cops. Also he’s immediately arrested on what is at best circumstantial evidence. It was written less than a week ago, not before the Me Too movement.

Characters of Color and Female Characters being bashed and written as horrible people to ubify a white man.

White man being written as someone who would murder a teenager instead of de-escalating a dangerous situation.

COC being written as willing to say violently homophobic things to an openly gay friend “out of fear”.

White character speaking a foreign language better than the COC who canonically speaks said language fluently (and said white character is canonically bad at it).

Taking what were clearly jokes and making them out to be “accepted bullying.”

Saying the white character would be bullied if they had a British accent, and comparing it to COC’s being bullied for THEIR accents.

The mammy stereotype. Enough said.

Giving the white character storylines given to other characters for literally no reason. Constantly.

#fandom discourse #fandom spaces #controversial post #Jordan speaks #fandom mods #fandom racism #fandom sexism #arguable fandom ageism

[taughtdefense]

@taughtmercy asked: ❝ will you still want me when I’m nothing new? ❞

YOU BLINK WHEN SAM SUDDENLY ASKS THE QUESTION FROM SEEMINGLY NOWHERE, & for a moment you genuinely think you misheard her. your knife & fork stop moving, suspended like someone hit pause more accurately, hovering in midair over the plate of sam’s favorite comfort dinner food. you technically don’t need to eat, but you didn’t want her eating by herself. you hope she’s enjoying the food, because you made it specifically for her.

while you settle back in your seat at the kitchen table, where your knees are pressed up against the sides of her legs comfortably, you go over the question again in your head. just to check that you heard her correctly the first time around.

sitting with her in your apartment, just hanging out with her makes you very happy. it’s almost like old times, before the valley-wide karate war exploded… & after you’d moved out of the larusso home when you found out that robby got put into juvie by mr. larusso.

it’s only been a week since silver’s arrest, & you’re still trying to come to terms with everything that happened. tory’s false win, the referee being paid by silver, your own near death experience… the fact that daniel got beat up by silver ( obviously, you can relate to that last one ). not to mention, the fact that you consistently heard silver’s voice in your head for a scary few months. the list never ends.

but you’re healing. or trying to, at least. you try not to think about everything so much now that it’s been a week. but unfortunately, you have nightmares. it’s not an uncommon occurrence. you’d been decidedly trying to avoid anything that would’ve upset her… including the most recent dojo-wide fight. you’d seen sam, devon, tory & emma fight sensei kim out of the corner of your eye, but nolan distracted him too much, so you couldn’t help. it’s not that you don’t think they’re capable fighters, but going up against such an adversary like sensei kim, not to mention the ingrained instinct to protect your friends, no matter the cost.

you just hope that sam knows that you could’ve helped, you would’ve.

❝ how could you ever think i’d ever want you to be any different than you are now, sam? ❞ the reply is serious, but your tone is unsurprisingly warm & gentle. the idea that sam would think that… you’d never. you’re not someone who just discards your friends aside once they’ve outlived their 'usefulness'. you fight to protect the valley, for your senseis, for friends & family. for sam, hawk, devon, talia, emma & miguel… especially for robby. even if your boyfriend doesn’t know how deep that devotion might run. there’s undeniable proof of that last one, in the form of a physical scar on your abdomen, mental scars that haven’t healed over completely.

you don’t fight to earn points with anyone. you never have. you fight because inherently, its the right thing to do. even if you get hurt.

you look straight into her eyes for added emphasis. ❝ you’re quite literally my best friend. we were also roommates for a time, remember? i think you’re perfect the way you are right now. i… want you know that i mean it, too. ❞ you reply, doing your best to keep your voice level. you can't help the way your voice softens at that last part. given the hellish past year or so of endless battles & trauma, you barely manage to smile at her. even if its entirely genuine.

you reach over to place your hand over her shoulder comfortingly, before quickly moving up to playfully ruffle her brown hair, bruised-peppered-half-split knuckles stinging slightly with pain. ( you'd fucked up your knuckles earlier in the week during a friendly sparring match with johnny to keep yourself sharp, & they've been a bit slower to heal than usual. ) you push through that temporary pain in favor of comforting your despondent best friend. she should know just as well as you that you've had worse pains than bruised, split knuckles.

❝ in all the time we’ve known each other, that thought has never crossed my mind. not when i was l-living with you, not after everything that's happened. & it certainly won’t ever. nothing’ll change that. ❞ you tell her gently, hoping she believes you. you take a moment to pause. ❝ you’re not, ❞ you glance to the left as you attempt to think of the proper word, ❝ like… a toy to me. i don't think y-you have a so-called warranty or a shelf-life. when you're ❝ nothing new ❞ , as you put it. especially not to me, sam. ❞

#taughtmercy #in character. / post season 5.

[farfromhome999]

Black Motherhood in A Thousand and One (2023) & The Women of Brewster Place (1989)

[SPOILERS!!! TW: SA, Familial Abandonment]

Inez (mother) & Terry (son)

Fresh out of jail, Inez befriends a quiet foster kid, Terry, on the block she does hair at. When he ends up in the hospital, Inez falsely claims to be his mother before showering him with care and toys. Eventually, Inez abducts the kid to raise him on the run. For years, they lived together on the fringes of society, skirting around the government. As Terry approaches adulthood, he discovers Inez isn't his biological mother, leaving him with mixed emotions. Yet, he can’t help but call her mother because she was one to him. When Inez is questioned about her motivations, she says she took him because she, herself was in foster care, and though she didn’t know how to be a mother, she wanted to have him grow up to be somebody. Seeing as Terry got into a good school, got in little trouble, has various options to choose from, and more, she felt as though she won against the system that brought her to her miserable standing in life. In the end, it’s hard for Terry and probably the audience to really be mad at Inez. Terry probably would have been worse off if she never came for him in the hospital. It’s easy to see the love that Terry holds for his “mother” at the end of the movie when he cries while he helps her escape from the government who have found out about the abduction and are looking to jail her again.

It’s an unconventional story about motherhood, but it’s one about figuring out how to mother without ever having one. It’s also a critique on the “angry black hood woman” caricature because while Inez does fall into the Sapphire stereotype, she’s given humanity. There were several instances in raising Terry where she resorted to harsh words and physical punishment to teach him lessons, often flip-flopping between good and bad moods depending on what life is currently throwing at her. Over time, even when she does “calm down,” she’s still seen by the men around her as being too miserable looking and in dire need of a lesson on being quieter. Yet, Inez’ anger always stems from something— or someone— making her life harder. Her anger and frustration are understandable.

Mattie (mother) & Basil (son)

Mattie wasn’t planning to have a baby. Curiosity and repressed desire led to that not quite consensual encounter. Her parents weren’t planning on it either, being Christian and devout. When Mattie refused to reveal the baby’s dad to her father, he beat her to the ground until his wife fired a shotgun near his head for laying a hand on his baby. Mattie left home with a shamed heart and a little yellow suitcase. She stayed at a boarding house where she worked at a hair salon down the street until a little after her baby was born. Mattie experienced intense separation anxiety with her baby, Basil, not quite trusting anyone to look after him and always trying to make him happy. When a rat bites him, Mattie leaves the boarding home with a frantic heart, a little yellow suitcase, and a baby on her hip. She’s turned away from several doors for either being a mother— “We don’t take children”— or being black— “There is no vacancy, I just forgot to take the sign down.” It wasn’t until she encountered a little old lady, Ms. Eva, where she was invited to stay in her place for free, Basil getting a playmate in Lucile, Ms. Eva’s granddaughter, as well. Mattie doesn’t always do what’s best for Basil, always avoiding upsetting him too much. As such, she doesn’t give him his own bed as he grows older saying he’s too scared of the dark. When Ms. Eva dies and Lucile leaves, Mattie takes on the house and continues to raise Basil there until he’s a teen. When Basil kills a man he felt no remorse over killing— “he’s better off [in social standing] than me”— and breaking an officer’s arm as he resisted arrest, Mattie doesn’t lecture him on his lack of care. She just hears his plea that he wants out of jail because he hated the food, the beds weren’t good, and several other factors. He only complains about his life in jail to Mattie and doesn’t stay to talk to her at all when she visits, simply telling her he wants out before leaving. Mattie puts their house on the line to bail him out, but he still needs to go to the preceding. Basil, after tasting freedom again, doesn’t want to go back and feels he’s not going to have a chance at keeping his freedom, so he bounces without a goodbye leaving Mattie. With a broken heart and her little yellow suitcase, Mattie moves once more to Brewster Place. She can’t speak Basil’s name or talk about what happened.

Mattie’s tale is of a mother who sacrificed much for her child, only to be scorned in the end with a lack of understanding for her sacrifice. In trying to make the Basil happy all the time, he never understood even a modicum of hardship and avoided pain, fear, and other negative emotions like the plague. He learned he could get anything from his mother be it a few dollars to go to a movie and the bail out of jail with enough niggling. If Inez was the mother focused on what the kid needs, Mattie was the one focused on what the kid wants. In both instances, it backfires.

Cora Lee (mother) & Her Seven Kids

Cora Lee is the caricature of a welfare queen, humanized. As a little girl, she always loved her baby dolls and would get a new one each Christmas. The old ones never felt as nice as the new ones. When she grew older, she took this logic into consideration over her own kids. She loves when they’re babies, small, helpless, not talking back. But not so much when they’re older and refuse to listen much. She calls them dumbasses and knuckle heads. She uses passive aggression to try to guilt them into doing what she wants and direct commands in an attempt to strike fear in them. They often go awry. Also, after so many kids, she doesn’t deem every scrape, bump, and bruise they get to be much of an event, particularly when she tells them not to do the thing that earned them that mark of dishonor. Cora Lee feels like her kids are hopeless because of their bad grades and worse behavior. It’s not until Kiswana invites her and her kids to the local Shakespeare play that Cora Lee gets any hope for their situation. The kids are well behaved once Kiswana comes and all the people at Brewster place stare in astonishment at them all dressed up nice and behaving well as they walk over. The play itself was a success too. Midsummer Night’s Dream was adapted to include dancing, music, lights, costumes, and effects that left the audience jiving in their seats and engrossed. By the end, one of Cora Lee’s kids asked if Shakespeare was black to which she responds that he isn’t, not yet. It’s implied that this child may go on to be a playwright or into theatre from this encounter. Cora Lee is practically beaming after being given this chance to see her kids at all ages in a new light.

Kiswana (daughter) & Her Mother

This relationship between mother and daughter is one of miscommunication. Kiswana, or Melanie, feels as though her mother is ashamed of being black and tries to distance herself from that heritage as much as possible. From her mother’s words, it’s possible to think so. She feels that Brewster place isn’t safe— which it isn’t, there are gangs hanging around— and that her daughter should at least have a phone so that her mother and father have a line to reach her. Kiswana, however, hates that the two stopped loving each other in her eyes and more than that, wants to work towards getting a phone herself rather than ask them for money she feels isn’t hers. Kiswana’s mother is angered when she refuses and is accused of being ashamed of her heritage. She says that Melanie thinks that being black is in her curly hair, her skin tone, her name that she chose for herself, and all these other things. But, her mother chose her name because it was the name of a woman in her family that stood up against several white men with a gun to save her husband who had no business doing what he did, but she loved him anyways and stayed strong. She also told her of her other ancestors who didn’t know the meaning of quit and strived for better and better right up until herself. Their cushy house in Linden Hills was a hard fought achievement. Their straight hair, relaxed by perms and the way they dressed and the color of their skin didn’t matter because to her mother, black is black. Being a mother simply meant doing what was best for her child, making sure that her kids were never ashamed of however they looked or whoever they were.

This story demonstrates a lack of communication between mother and daughter as much of this comes out of frustration with the other and finally sitting down to talk about things. I feel like clearer communication between the two on their feelings over their heritage would have sparked more understanding on both of their sides. I don’t think it would have solved all their problems— the mother was really upset over Melanie dropping out of college— but it would have been a start in the right direction.

Lucile (mother) & Serena (daughter)

Lucile spends a great deal of time with Serena while her husband, Eugene, is away doing goddess knows what. When he comes back, Lucile is overjoyed and tries to do anything so that he doesn’t leave again. When she gets pregnant again, she gets and abortion after he gets upset. She looses his job, she offers to pick up another which he also hates— probably because he’s supposed to be the provider but he keeps running into trouble in the pursuit of that. When he expresses his displeasure over Serena getting more attention than him— when she is a baby that needs to be frequently watched and cared for, which he doesn’t seem to understand— Lucile tries to pay more attention to him. Eventually, she tries to make him happy and prevent his leaving so much, the dominos fall on her baby girl. When Eugene comes home to see Mattie and Lucile playing with Serena, he shoos Mattie off and says that Serena could stay right where she is when Mattie offers to take her. Lucile, wanting to please him, agrees and Mattie leaves. Eugene tells Lucile he’s found a job but refuses to give her many details on it. They wind up going to the other room, leaving Serena alone and unwatched. As Eugene refuses to say where he’s going, that he doesn’t want to take the baby and Lucile with him, and that their love isn’t enough to make him stay… Serena, who’d picked up a pair of shiny scissors spotted a cockroach in the wall outlet. Eugene didn’t show up to her funeral. Lucile became catatonic, a deep depression that Mattie needed to coax her out of. Lucile left soon after, taking her clothes and bedspread with her without a goodbye.

This story serves as a warning. Getting hung up on a man who was so upset with their situation, believing Lucile to only be good for “babies and bills” as he states, led to the loss of one of the most precious things to her— Serena’s life. In trying to make her partner stay, to the protest of Mattie who saw much of this situation going down hill and tried to offer advice, Lucile forgot to put her child first. Eugene is also at fault here, of course. A father who refuses to act like one— job or not— and a partner that refuses to stay because of his own discomfort, only ever running away when things don’t go well is essentially useless. Both are supposed to stay for their love and their child through thick and thin. Not doing so has negative consequences on everyone involved and then to not have remorse over it??? Good riddance. While both are at fault, the lesson here is to put ones child first. In my opinion, as well, if the man don’t know how to stay, he doesn’t need to be there in the first place. That’s a lot of going in an out of a child’s life and that instability causes more issues than it solves.

Lorraine (daughter) & Her Mother

Lorraine was kicked out of her house because of her sexuality when she was a teen. Since then, she worked her way through college, found purpose in being a teacher, and met her current partner, Theresa (woman in blue in above picture) where the two had a lovely place in Linden Hills. Or several years, Lorraine would send Christmas cards to her parents, still hoping that they loved her. They’d be returned to her until she stopped putting a return address on them. She assumes they may have threw the cards in the fire. Her parents’ abandonment, especially her mother’s really struck when she tried calling home one day and her mother hung up the phone upon learning it was her daughter on the other end. Her fear of judgment and what being different meant leads to several issues in accepting her own sexuality and the struggles that LGBTQ+ people face in the world. She denies her difference at every turn and gets paranoid and fearful at any rumors that circulate around about her and Theresa, wherever they moved. Lorraine feels wholly uncared for. Later, she’s sexually assaulted by one of the gang members looking to make her right by showing her what a real man is like and make her never look at another woman again. Lorraine is left broken and hysterical in the back alley. When people attempt to help her, she swats them all away with a wood plank she pick up. One unfortunate person was beaten possibly to death because he approached her too quick— it was the man who had a lesbian daughter and comforted Lorraine when she was being discriminated against.

I don’t think I need to expand on this one— in fact it’s hard for me to, I’m lucky I wasn’t thrown out or something. My sexuality just isn’t accepted as a fact.

#black tumblr #blackontelevision #women if brewster place #black queer love #black motherhood #farfromhome999 #3rd wave #2nd wave

[solara-linke]

Hello, so this is sort of a follow-up to the list that I posted and it's some things that I have learned from my own political involvement and activism that I'd like to share.

By the way some of this advice applies to other countries but a lot of it is going to apply to the US. Especially some of the legal stuff.

#Phones

If you go to a protest bring a burner phone. This allows for you to communicate to the other people you are protesting with but it ensures that your sensitive data doesn't get snatched if the police ever come.

Do not have your phone be openable by your finger or with your face. I know it's really cool technology but it's not very secure. For example also one would need to do to open your phone is just put your face in front of it which a police officer could do. Same thing for fingerprints. If your phone is open only by a passcode or password then it's much more secure.

Have a strong password. Use pass phrases, not passwords. A passphrase is a lot easier to remember and it has more characters. Every character you add increases its strengths.

Do not use your birth year as your pin.

#Protests

Speaking of protests it's a good idea to prepare. If you are going to one also do not bring any kind of identifying pieces of information unless it is absolutely necessary. Those things can be confiscated from you for example.

Wear solid colors and do not wear any kind of identifying symbols. If you have tattoos see if you can cover them up. You can do this either with long sleeves or with makeup.

The reason why you would want to do all these things isn't just because you're trying to hide from the police but it's also because you're trying to hide from other fascists who might try to see if they can identify you and then essentially harass you after the protest.

Put your hair up. If you have long hair put it up. Put it up into a bun or something because it prevents people from having a handle to pull you.

Don't forget to wear a face covering such as a mask. Ski mask can be very helpful but you can also just use a party mask. This again is to protect you not just from police but also from fascists who would like to try to identify you and then harass you. These people are not above death threats at all.

Don't do violence. Also prepare for violence. So you shouldn't want to do violence but sometimes protests can get violent. Prepare for things like pepper spray and things like that.

Sometimes things you get violent because someone just randomly does some violence and it starts something or because the police starts something. Sometimes the violence starts from police. Oh and don't separate yourself from the group all of a sudden. Sometimes the police can be looking for stragglers to arrest and if you are separate from the rest of the group they might arrest you.

#Police

Speaking of police. Let's talk about them now. Remember. Exercise your 5th amendment rights when at all possible and it is possible.

Repeat after me "I plead the fifth and I wish not to speak to you without the presence of a lawyer"

This might sound weird but all lawyers are going to recommend this piece of advice to you. Do not talk to cops. Except….

When you should which is in regards to certain bits of information such as identifying yourself. If they pulled you over in a traffic stop for example you have to give them your personal identification.

Do not lie to police. Also police can lie to you. Yep this is one of those things where you can't do that but they can do it to you. This is one of the reasons why you don't talk to police and why you talk with a lawyer.

1. Falsely claiming they have evidence against you.

2. Providing a misleading or inaccurate statement about your legal rights.

3. Making up false statements from witnesses or informants.

4. Concealing information during an interrogation.

5. Misrepresenting the severity of potential consequences.

Here's a list of ways the police can lie to you and this is not an exhaustive list.

If for example they say that they found evidence of you being at a particular thing. Do not panic. Wait and plead the fifth and talk to a lawyer.

#Searches

Do not consent to a search unless they have a warrant. If you are in your house for example and they come knocking, look to see if it's the police. Go outside and talk to them. Do not bring them in the house. Or better yet just talk to them through the door.

Ask them what they want. If they say they want to come in say this phrase "I do not consent to a search" The absence of consenting to a search is consent to a search. I know that sounds strange but yes you really do need to say you don't consent to a search in order to consent. Even saying something like okay could be seen as giving consent even if you weren't saying okay about a search.

They have a warrant. Ask to see the warrant. You are looking for a signature from a judge. You let them in. Plead the fifth and don't talk or answer their questions without a lawyer. Just because they're in your house doesn't mean you need to have a chit chat.

Look at the warrant. They should only be in areas of your house that make sense in regards to the thing they are looking for based off of the warrant. So if they are looking for a red car they should not be in the kitchen.

Make notes of where they search and what they were doing. This might help you later on.

You have a constitutional right to record the police. This is considered free speech.

#Arrested

Okay so you did everything right but you still got arrested. And you got arrested for political reasons. What do you do now?

Here is a resource that you can use.

https://www.nlg.org/

https://transequality.org

You can use these resources. Put the number on your arm when you go to protests.

#Security culture

https://crimethinc.com/2004/11/01/what-is-security-culture

Use proper security culture. Here is an article talking about it in detail but basically it is the techniques that people use to protect themselves and to ensure that the information that they want to keep private can stay private even if if a few people make compromises.

Do not ask for information that you don't need to know and do not tell information People don't need to know.

By having this don't ask don't tell kind of mentality it ensures that only information you need to know is something you know.

If you are having a gathering for example one thing you can do is to have a voucher system for new people. This means that in order for a new person to come in a person who previously is part of the group has to vouch for you. If no one can vouch for that person then they leave.

Utilize these techniques when you think it is necessary.

#Technology

Signal

Jitsi Meet

These are the two communication devices that me and my group tend to use. Signal is great for things like texting and stuff like that and Jitsi Meet is actually an encrypted version of zoom. So don't use zoom. Use this instead. It's encrypted. Try to use encrypted applications whenever possible.

Do not talk over Facebook Messenger. There was a news story of a mother and daughter who were talking about an abortion and then Facebook released that information to the authorities. That's not secure.

Do not use discord. Again discord is not secure and has a central database that can be accessed by the main HQ of discord.

#Defense

Learning things like proper firearms training can definitely be beneficial but there's also something else that would be very beneficial as well. Being a street medic. Learn to be a street medic and you're basically the most desirable person in the room. Because you can actually help and heal people who get injured.

#Food

Learn to cook for people. Especially for a lot of people. Also being able to grow your own food is incredibly helpful.

It's not talked about as much as things like firearms training but this kind of stuff can be incredibly valuable to a community as it ensures that they don't always have to worry about whether they can afford food or not. One thing you can do is a distributed farm. So what do you do is you have a bunch of people who volunteer their gardens and then you take a really big garden and divide it up among the people who want to be a part of this. This means that a single garden will make more food than what the owner can possibly eat and you combine all of the fruits of your labor together to create a huge amount of food.

Do this over and over again and you pretty much have infinite food glitch.

#Conclusion

Anyway I know this has been very long. As I said some of the stuff might be useful in other countries such as the food thing but some of them are very much specific to the United States such as the resources.

I remember, stay safe and have fun.

[fightxxmexxshiggy]

HOT DAY AND A TIRED MAN

This fic is dedicated to @lovelyladyraven for being my first ever paid commission.

Shouta Aizawa x fem reader

Tw:dangerous situation, breeding, OVERSTIMULATION

Word count: 3.5k

This was not how you had planned to spend your day. Your boss had decided that the roof needed to be cleaned on the second hottest day this summer! Of course you were the only one who had just finished up their task so he sent you to do it by yourself with a promise of sending the next available person up to switch with you soon. Instead you had spent two hours cleaning up dirt and shining the vents on a roof that no one but maintenance workers ever set foot on! Once you had seen how much time had passed you went to the door with every intention of stomping down the stairs and clocking out, not willing to do overtime just to clean a roof. But the knob wouldn't turn no matter how hard you pulled. You banged on the door a few times only to realize that one of the idiots that you work with had locked the door. Quickly you took out your phone and called the store phone no answer, then your boss's phone no answer, then you called the two other coworkers who had been working with you today. Not a single person answered you! You went over to the side of the building that looked over the parking lot seeing that all their cars were already gone from their usual spots. The bastards had left for the day and left you locked on the roof with no way to go home or even get water. You tried for another 30 minutes to reach your boss and coworkers only for them to start rejecting your calls. They did this on purpose. You went and sat in the shade of the roof door access and took a few calming breaths. You knew that they weren't going to come back until tomorrow and you also knew that they probably expected you to sit up here and cry waiting till morning for them to come and "save" you. So instead you looked up the number for the local fire department. Once someone picked up you heard a deep gravelly voice through the speaker. 

"Fire station 6 what can I help you with?" 

The man seemed tired and kind of put out but instead of apologizing for bothering him like your brain was screaming at you to do, you cleared your throat and spoke. You gave him a detailed rundown of your situation and explained that you would have called the emergency line first except your boss's wife worked the police directory and if he was locking you on the roof like this you were afraid that his wife would just not send anyone to help you. It was a small town and things like that were constantly looked over as long as you knew the right people. He hummed in agreement.

" That's sad but true. I know your boss and his wife well enough that you're probably 100 percent right about what they would do and how they would cover this up. They've done it before. Me and a few guys will be there in about 20 minutes to come get you down. Just keep calm and do your best to stay out of the sun until then we don't need you getting any more dehydrated than you already are."

He gave a quick goodbye and hung up. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that you had chosen correctly when you called the fire station. You sat in the shade and tried to put a face to the voice of the tired firefighter who would be coming to free you from your rooftop prison. Like a fool you had never asked his name. As you thought about it you started to get a bit lightheaded. It had definitely been too long since you had any water. The heat was starting to get to you now that your adrenaline had stopped pumping so hard. With nothing else to do you layed down as much in the shade as you could and did a breathing exercise. During your exercise you must have blacked out because the next thing you knew you were being carried down the stairs in a set of strong arms. 

The person carrying you was speaking to you but you couldn't make out what they were saying over the fog that was covering your brain. You knew the sound of that voice though. It was the tired firefighter but he sounded a whole lot less tired and a whole lot more angry. You really hoped he wasn't angry at you. Maybe you were too heavy and he was annoyed at having to lug you down the stairs. With a weak hand you reached up maybe to apologize somehow, but ended up cupping his cheek. His stubble felt funny in your already funny feeling hand. He stopped walking at the feeling of your hand on his face. You still couldn't open your eyes so instead you mumbled a garbled sorry and proceeded to pass back out going limp. The last thing you heard was the tired firefighter yelling at someone, maybe you?

You woke up again this time to the feeling of something plastic on your face. Opening your eyes was still a bit too much for you so you listened and tried to figure out what was going on. You vaguely remember the tired voice you had spoken to before you felt light headed and the feeling of being carried. As you listened you could make out the sounds of machines. Slowly you took stock of your body. You were sore and kinda warm but you could move a little bit. You breathed deeply, finally realizing that the plastic was an oxygen tube. You were definitely in the hospital then. After a few more minutes your eyes were in good enough condition that you opened them to look around the room. When you did you saw someone slumped in the chair in the corner. This was incredibly strange since you had no family in this town. Doing your best you cleared your throat preparing to ask who they were. At your sound the person's head shot up, eyes wide. 

It was a man with tired eyes and long black hair that was on the scruffy side; it easily matched the stubble of a beard on his chin and cheeks. He stood up definitely tall enough to tower over you even when you were standing up yourself. The man walked to your bedside and took a deep breath before speaking. 

"It's good to see you awake little one. I was beginning to think you weren't going to wake up. I'm the firefighter you spoke to asking for help when you were on the roof. I have a lot to explain to you but I'm gonna call the doctor in and have them look you over before anything else."

He called out into the hall after that and a doctor and a nurse bustled into the room within minutes. Your throat was too dry to answer their questions so you stuck to little nods and head shakes as they began to check your vitals and adjust your iv drip. Once they were sure you were stable enough you were once again left with your savior and no voice to thank him with. He came closer and pulled the chair along with him to settle in for your conversation. 

"So you've been out of it for about 3 days. You got sunstroke while you were on the roof and your boss had double locked the door to get in and the door to the roof which slowed us down in getting to you. Your boss and his wife and your 2 coworkers have all been arrested. It was your boss's idea though apparently he kept hitting on you but you didn't give him the time of day so he wanted to teach you a lesson. His wife had your name flagged so that if you had called for help it would have given a dispatcher a notification to ignore you as a false reporter. His wife found out about his interest in you and was planning on making sure you were stuck on that roof all night. Your coworkers just went along with it because they didn't want to deal with your boss's anger."

Hearing all this pissed you off beyond belief. They could have killed you all because you would be a man's mistress and the man's wife would rather hurt someone than confront her husband. He looked at your face and patted your knee knowing there was nothing he could say that would make you feel any better about this. You looked up at him and grabbed his hand and brought it to your forehead, touching his knuckles there before placing a kiss on them. You were kind of happy that you couldn't really talk just yet because the blush on this man's cheeks was well worth the dry throat. He poured you a cup of water and handed it to you. You gave him a small smile and drank it gratefully. 

Eventually you could speak some and the two of you formally introduced yourselves. He was Shouta Aizawa, the fire station chief and local fire safety instructor for this area. He hadn't felt right leaving you alone after he had gotten you off the roof and found that you lived alone in this town. He came off very blunt and serious but you could see his deep kindness in his actions. The doctors came back in, cutting your conversation short and making Shouta go back to his spot in the corner. After a few more checks the doctors cleared you to go home the following day as long as you had someone to watch over you for the next three days till your follow up appointment was. You frowned cause you did have any close friends who could do that for you. As you pondered over it you heard Shouta's voice over the doctor's. 

"If you don't have a problem I can have you stay over in the guestroom at my house. I was already on a temp leave due to watching over you here so it wouldn't be much different with you at my house."

This man with a deep whiskey voice truly had a heart of gold. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth you readily agreed. After you had been up a few more hours and had a little bit to eat, Shouta left with the promise of a freshly cleaned room waiting for you tomorrow. You fell asleep that night feeling more cared for than you ever truly had. You woke up again slightly disoriented and thirsty but in much better condition than you had been the day prior. It was early so you took your time shaking the numbness out of your limbs and getting back your bearings. The nurse came in fussing about you standing with calling anyone to be a catcher for you. She stopped fussing though when she realized that you were indeed stable enough to walk to the bathroom alone. 

Shouta had called the nurses station around 10 to let them know he'd be there by 12. With a few puppy dog looks you had a shower chair and an orderly who helped wash your hair and walk you back to bed. They had given you some hospital pajamas that you happily wore instead of the ugly gowns you had woken up in. You were clean and relaxed by the time Shouta had arrived to sign you out of the hospital. A nurse came around with a wheelchair and wheeled you down to the exit while the car was brought around. Shouta opened the door for the backseat but instead of giving you a hand to climb in he leaned down and scooped you out of the chair. Once you had been sat comfortably on the seat he shut the door leaving you with a moment to appreciate just how strong his arms were.

The drive to Shouta's home was relatively quick as is the way of small towns. His house was nice and seemed to be a cozy ranch style. After pulling into the garage you tried to get out yourself only to be caught up against a hard chest as your legs gave out the moment they were made to take your full weight. You looked up to see an exasperated glare. Part of your brain filled with chastised thoughts as the other filled with dirty thoughts. You really had to be better behaved when It came to your savior and benefactor but with him being so sinfully attractive it was kinda hard to do. Once again you were carried by the tired man this time into his home and deposited on the lone couch in his living room. He sat on his coffee table and faced you with a sigh. 

"You're really gonna have to rely on me for a few days brat. Your body is trying to heal and you pushing it as you just did isn't doing the process any favors."

You sighed and agreed with him. After a short conversation about a few things you might need from the store and checking about any food allergies he got ready and  headed to the store. You sat alone watching tv before clicking into his YouTube app to see what he watched most. A loud laugh burst from your chest as you realized that most of his watch history was full of cat videos and a few interviews with a local late night radio host. You watched the radio hosts videos thoroughly entertained by his boisterous personality. The next thing you knew you were being shaken awake by Shouta having fallen asleep with videos still playing on the tv. He helped you up and walked you to the bathroom and waited outside before scooping you up yet again. He was making it so damn hard not to think dirty thoughts when he kept carrying you around as if you were a small animal or something. Like sir the butterflies are in the stomach now but they will quickly fly south if you keep being so quietly sexy. A few hours later you were lying in bed when your thoughts finally got the best of you and had you touching your pussy as images of Shouta glaring down at you with his arms crossed showed behind your eyelids.

You had no idea how loud you were being as you rubbed your clit harshly, trying to get to the finish line. As you came you choked out his name. While you panted and came down from your high Shouta made his way back to his room quietly. He leaned back against his door and made a call before laying in his bed to jerk his very hard, very neglected cock. His brain kept replaying the sounds you made, the way you choked out his name as you came, how a satisfied little smile curled on your lips after you reached the finish line. He came with a growl, satisfied but not. He was definitely going to end up in trouble by the end of the week and he couldn't find it in himself to care. The following two days followed the same pattern, spending the day together and spending the night getting off to thoughts of the other in separate rooms. Though you were surprised to find that Shouta regularly walked around the house in nothing but sweatpants holding a full mug of coffee. On the fourth day you had become well enough to no longer need to be carried or walked everywhere. You were a little confused by Shouta's attitude as he had been glaring at the space above your head for most of the day. Finally tired of him doing this, you confronted him about it. You were not expecting his answer in the slightest. 

"I've spent the last three nights hearing you play with your pussy while calling my name, I'm hard enough to hammer nails and I can't get out any over this energy cause I'm supposed to be watching out for you. All I wanna do is fuck you till you lose your mind. me glaring above your head has been me doing my best not to seduce you like an asshole."

He said everything in such a deadpan manner that you couldn't help but laugh. Once you caught your breath you grinned at him and pulled your shirt off over your head. Sitting on his couch with your tits hanging free and your nipples hardening in the cool air you proceeded to play with them. You were immediately picked up and taken to his room before being dropped on the bed. Never let it be said that the tired man couldn't move fast as you were stripped of your remaining clothes before he stripped himself bare. He pulled you to the edge of his bed by your ankles and dropped to his knees, a fierce smile on his lips. 

"Been wanting to taste this bratty pussy for days. Bet it's as sweet as it looks."

His first lick was long. From your hole all the way over your clit. The squeak you let out at the feeling only made him more hungry. He spent what felt like an endless amount of time licking and thrusting his tongue as deep into your pussy as he could. By the time he finally gave your clit some much needed attention his chin was covered in pussy juice and your hole was fluttering as if it was seeking to be filled. Shouta teased you with a few small licks over your clit, making you whine and beg him to give you more. His arms wrapped around your thighs as he locked eyes with you and sucked your clit into his mouth. He sucked hard making you scream and thrash wildly. Your hands were buried in his hair as you squirted into his mouth. Your hips only stayed on the bed because of his strong arms keeping you in place. When he finally released your clit pussy juice was steadily leaking from your still twitching hole. 

"Oh did I break you already? You were so bold before and now you're just a mess. Think you can take my cock or do you want me to tuck you in for a nap."

The shit eating grin on his face was enough for you to pull his hair and glare at him. He sat up and shoved your wrists above your head to hold in one of his large hands. Slowly he worked his fat dripping cock into your almost too tight pussy. You whined and moaned his name as he finally bottomed out hitting your back wall. He stretched you more than you ever had been before but it was so damn good. Shouta started slow, one hand gripping your thigh as he ignored your demands for him to speed up.

"You're gonna take what I give you like a good girl or I'll just pull out and cum all over you right now."

That shut you up except for the constant stream of moans that left your throat. Just as you were finally getting used to being split by such a thick cock he changed his rhythm. Fast pounding thrusts that knocked the breath from your lungs were nearly constant. You didn't have enough breath to scream so you sobbed. Your half words were incoherent except for "sho please." Shouta leaned down and whispered in your ear as his thrusts once again spread up. He bit your ear lobe before making you lose your mind. 

"Such a tight little hole. I can't believe I had the strength to ignore it for three days. I could have at least eaten it while you laid back and rested. God I'm gonna have you for breakfast tomorrow." 

The utter heat in his words threw you over the edge making you cum so hard you began to shake. He growled as your pussy clenched down on him. Shouta sunk his teeth into the pillow by your head before shoving his cock against your cervix and shooting his cum against it. As soon as he finished cuming he started to thrust again. No slow start this time, just hard pounding thrusts that made you wail in pleasure. It didn't take long for you to cum again but Shouta lasted longer this time entirely fucking his cum out of you before finally cuming inside again just as deep as the first time. 

He pulled out and laid down next to you before pulling you on to his chest. You both panted trying to breathe like normal human beings again. Right as your breathing evened out you heard a voice from the doorway. And looked up to see the blonde radio host trailing his eyes over the two of you.

"I told you you wouldn't make it till I got home sho."

#bnha simping hours #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa shouta #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #firefighter aizawa

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part seventeen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol +sex

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

The flight from Naples to Tokyo took fourteen hours, not including the two and a half hour layover in Istanbul, meaning you had sixteen and a half hours to sit in awkward tension-filled silence next to Sam. The tension was one-sided, of course, but it was still agonizing to endure.

You had been able to push your anxiety aside during your last day in Italy because it had been so busy. There had been a power outage in the middle of the night, causing everyone to oversleep and miss the ferry for one of your tours that morning. It had been a scramble to get back on schedule and do as much as possible with the time you had left. The boys had been hungover and their parents were tired of wrangling them. You had dozens of photos on your camera roll of Sam and Harry bickering when they were supposed to be posing for a nice picture, and even more of Tom flicking them off. 

But now you were stuck alone with your thoughts, unable to use distraction as a means to escape. You tried reading your book, but found yourself unable to concentrate on the words on the page. After staring at the same paragraph for over fifteen minutes Sam noticed and asked if you were okay and you finally decided to call it quits. 

You almost wished the Hollands hadn’t scheduled in a day and a half to adjust to the time zone change. You’d rather exhaust yourself with the nonstop tourist bullshit than have to cope with the reality that you had gotten off to thoughts about your best friend’s brother. Not to mention living with the secret that the same best friend’s brother had kissed you not long before that. 

If Sam noticed anything was off, he didn’t mention it. He probably chalked it up to lack of sleep, or perhaps was too tired himself to care. 

“Which one of us do you think will be randomly selected in customs today?” Harry asked, stretching his arms above his head. 

You were standing in the aisle waiting to deplane, placing bets on who’d get searched by border agents this time. Somehow each time you traveled to a new place one of you was always chosen to get pat down or have your carry-on searched. Tom had yet to be the lucky winner, and you suspected it had something to do with his celebrity status. 

��Y/n,” Tom answered easily. “She has the U.S. passport.”

You rolled your eyes. “Like England has a squeaky clean record with Japan.”

“At least we didn’t-”

“Bro, you can’t say the b word on a plane,” Harry interrupted.

“Even when the plane’s on the ground?”

Sam shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Whatever,” Tom continued. “It’s definitely going to be y/n.”

-

“Would you mind stepping out of line, ma’am?” 

You sighed, not even bothering to look back at the boys. You already knew they were grinning like idiots and you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. The agent ushered you to the side behind a glass partition, but not before you heard another agent repeat the same question to one of the Hollands. You smiled to yourself, happy not to be the only one singled out.

Behind the privacy screen another agent greeted you and asked you to take your sweatshirt off, explaining that it was too baggy and needed to be checked. You saw other people in baggy clothes who weren’t getting pulled out of line, but assumed they didn’t have the red flag of “U.S. Citizen” printed on their identification that would be cause for any additional suspicion. You complied with the agent’s request and pulled your sweatshirt off for them to further inspect.

You were glad you’d worn a sports bra underneath your sweatshirt because you usually didn’t wear anything underneath them. As soon as your head was out of the pullover you immediately met by Tom’s polite smile. 

He averted his eyes as soon as he saw you, pausing his conversation with the official to mumble a quiet ‘sorry’ to you as he was shown to the spot next to yours. 

You zoned out as they spoke, only aware of him again when he started unbuckling his belt. You caught his eye this time. 

“Forgot to take it off,” he explained.

“Sweatshirt’s too loose.”

You both faced forward as the customs officials proceeded through the motions. You were stuck standing there half-naked with your arms wrapped around your chest self-consciously while an agent pat Tom’s legs down. 

“Dad said we can meet them at baggage claim,” Tom said after a few moments of silence between the two of you. “They went on without us.”

“Okay,” you squeaked back in response. 

You knew it wouldn’t take long, but it still made you nervous to be alone with Tom. Sam was like a safety blanket, or a buffer between you and him and without him you were afraid it would be painfully awkward. 

The woman handed you your sweatshirt back and you had to wait for Tom outside of the screening area. He joined you a minute or so later.

“They find any dirt on you?” you asked from where you were leaning against the wall across from the exit. 

“Nope, you?”

“Yeah, actually I’m in custody right now. Can’t believe you missed the handcuffs.”

“Man, what’d they get you for?” 

“Identity theft,” you sighed. 

“Damn, that’s a bummer,” Tom replied, false sympathy rolling off his words. 

He cocked his head in the direction the rest of his family had went, indicating that you should get going, and held out a hand to pull you upright. You took it hesitantly and let him help you. 

“I was actually hoping you could bail me out?” you went on, continuing with the bit. 

Tom made a sound through his teeth and grimaced. “I’m kinda broke right now.”

“Aren’t you an actor?”

“Sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“No, you’re definitely the guy!”

“You’re thinking of Tom Hiddleston,” he insisted.

“Remember that IOU you gave me? I’m cashing it in now.”

“That’s not how it works!” 

You laughed. “No, but if I ever actually get arrested I’m using my IOU to get you to bail me out of jail.”

“I don’t think that a kiss and getting bailed out of prison are comparable, but I didn’t put any conditions on that postcard, did I?”

“Nope!” You smiled happily.

“Well that’s on me, so...”

You took the shuttle together to the other side of the airport where the rest of the Hollands were waiting and finally found them with all of your luggage at the furthest carousel from the entrance. 

“It’s about time!” Harry yelled over the crowd as soon as he saw you. 

Sam grinned when he saw you and you couldn’t help but grin back. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively and you relaxed into his shoulder, relieved to be with him again. It hadn’t dawned on you until that moment just how attached you were, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it because the other Hollands were all looking at you expectantly.

“Did everything go okay?” Nikki asked. 

Tom nodded. “They made y/n strip, but it was uneventful otherwise.”

You pursed your lips, cheeks burning. “It was just my sweatshirt!” you hissed to Sam. 

“Yeah, but you never wear anything under your sweatshirts!” Sam hissed back.

“I had a bra on this time.”

“Oh, so it was just another night at the bar for you?” You wrestled yourself out of Sam’s grasp at that and glared. “Am I wrong?”

Sam’s dad cut in before you could respond. He had a habit of calling “family meetings” in the middle of public spaces to finalize plans and get everybody on the same page, which was always an experience. 

“Alright, gather up, gang!” he said, beckoning you all closer. “So we’ll be staying at... this hotel,” he explained and turned his phone around to show you the name of it. “And the thing is, we have two rooms to share between the six of us. One for your mother and I, and another for you four.”

“What?” Sam asked. “You’re going to make us stay with them?”

“I thought we were getting three rooms like every other time,” Tom chimed in.

“We were meant to, but I made a mistake when booking it,” Dom clarified.

“How?”

“The entire website was in Japanese, Sam. I don’t know Japanese!”

“Dad, Google has a translate webpage option!” Harry groaned.

“Well no one told me that while I was booking this entire trip by myself!”

You traded a look with Tom, who looked just as panicked as you felt. But it would only be for a week. You would find a way to manage. You didn’t really have any other option.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” Sam tried, forcing a smile.

“That’s the spirit!” Dom cheered. “We’ll make it work.”

sorry she’s short this week :( but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland series #tom holland x reader #tom holland x bi!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

[the-bau-quinjet]

Secret's Out

Summary: Request! Reid and Y/N are secretly dating, but their business doesn't stay their business for long.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence

Word Count: 2974

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it :)

Sorry this took forever! It took me a while to think of case details that I liked and then I kept rewriting parts. I think I'm finally happy with it though!

Masterlist

"Spencer!" You pushed him away. "The doors could open at any moment! How are we supposed to keep this a secret if Morgan walks in on us kissing in the elevator?" You raised a brow at him.

"On average, elevators travel at a speed of 200 ft/min or about 4 seconds per floor. Being on the fifth floor means we have about 20 seconds to ourselves." He smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, until someone surprises us on floor 3." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the doors once they opened.

"I can't help it. I'm just... really happy with you." He whispered softly.

"I'm really happy too." You smiled at him. You were about to lean in when the elevator doors opened once again to reveal JJ and Emily.

"Hey guys, ready for another case?" Emily glanced between you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't ask any prying questions.

"Yep, let's go!" You turned quickly, walking into the round table room without so much as a glance back at the three agents by the elevator.

"What's with her?" JJ questioned.

"Said she didn't sleep well last night. Must be all the caffeine." He held his own cup off coffee up in solidarity before also walking to the round table room.

"Alright, we've got 3 dead in Billings, Montana. All three were law enforcement, and all three were found this morning around the city." You listened as Penelope introduced the details of the case.

"Could be someone who feels the police didn't do a good enough job protecting a loved one?" You threw out a theory.

"Or someone who feels wronged by the criminal justice system as a whole." Rossi added on.

"Either way, they likely won't stop until we catch them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch rose from his seat as he spoke, wasting no time in preparing for take off.

You all dispersed briefly to grab your go bags, meeting back at the SUVs to head to the jet.

Once boarded, it didn't take long for the conversation to start up again.

"When we land, L/N go to the morgue. Dave, Prentiss take the first and second crime scenes, they're only a mile apart. Morgan and Reid, check out the third scene. I'll head to the precinct with JJ."

With Hotch's instructions set, you took what little time you had left on the flight to go over the causes of death.

-

"Anything stand out to you on the bodies?" You asked the ME after going over the blunt force trauma and bullet wounds.

"There's tape residue and bruising on the wrists and ankles. Based on the state of bruising, they were likely held for about 3 days before they were killed."

"Thank you for your help." You shook hands, pulling out your phone to call Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, they were held for days before they were killed. How did nobody notice they were missing?" There was nothing in the reports that indicated the victims were reported missing prior to being found.

"We just found the same pattern. They all used vacation days for various reasons in the days leading up to their deaths. Meet us back at the precinct and Reid can explain the whole pattern."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." You hung up just as you reached the SUV. Throughout the drive, you couldn't stop thinking that something wasn't adding up.

The victims were taken in the same day. It didn't make sense for the unsub not to escalate. So, why aren't any officers unaccounted for?

Suddenly, a truck crashed into your SUV, sending you flying off the road. A figure dressed in black opened the door and dragged you from the car.

"Agent L/N, it's so good to see you again." A male voice spoke, but you couldn't place it.

He hit you over the head with a handgun before dragging you to his own vehicle.

-

"Where's L/N?" Emily questioned when her and Rossi returned from the second dumpsite.

"On her way back from the ME." Hotch answered. "Did you find anything useful?"

"They truly are dumpsites. Both bodies were found by dumpsters, sending a pretty clear message." Dave replied.

"Same for the third site." Derek added on.

"All three victims were single and took time off leading up to their death. Nobody would've notice that they were missing until it was too late." Reid supplied the final bit of information gathered.

Hotch's phone rang before anyone else could comment. The frantic sound of Garcia's nails clicking against her keyboard echoed through the phone. She was talking before anyone could greet her.

"You need to see this, check your tablets."

Confused glances were exchanged as everyone, barring Reid, opened their tablets. Reid glanced over Morgan's shoulder to observe as well.

A seemingly live video that Garcia received a link to was streaming to the tablets.

A single woman sitting in a chair could be seen in the frame. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with thick, gray tape and a bag was over her head.

"Garcia, what is this?" Hotch asked almost immediately.

"I was emailed the link just now. It's not streaming anywhere else online." Her reply came quickly, the sound of typing still filling in the silence.

"Can you trace it?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm trying, but it's being routed through multiple proxy servers."

"Did the email say anything?" Emily chimed in.

"No, it was just the link- Wait. I just got another email." She paused as the new email loaded. "It's addressed to Reid."

Every set of eyes in the room turned to Reid.

"What does it say?" He felt the nerves beginning to grow waiting for Garcia to read the words aloud.

"Dr. Reid,

I hope you remember me. What am I saying, of course you do. I've got something of yours that you might want back. You see Dr. Reid, you and your team ruined me. My family, my career, all of it, just gone. I thought I'd return the favor. A person's phone can be so informative. Tell me, does your team know about your girlfriend? I've so enjoyed getting reacquainted with her.

Happy hunting."

Spencer's face went white as he looked at Morgan's tablet again. His thoughts were racing. How did he not recognize you before? Even with the bag over your head, he should've known it was you.

"It's her." His words were barely a whisper.

"This is your girlfriend?" Morgan gestured to the screen again. Spencer could only nod in reply, his mind unable to focus on anything except you.

"Reid, listen to me. You've got to tell us everything you know about her. We'll have to split up. You can go back to Quantico with Emily and Morgan, the rest of us will stay here to work on our current case." Hotch was already devising a strategy to work both cases.

"There's no need." His words made sense to him, but sounded cryptic to the rest of the team.

"Kid, of course there is. We'll help you get her back." Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively shocking him back to the present situation.

"There's no need to split up because she's here. She's in Montana." Before he could continue, everyone was asking questions.

"Give me a phone number and I'll get you a location." Garcia was already typing away again.

"Are you sure she's here?" JJ's brows furrowed. She did her best to hide the hurt of her best friend hiding his girlfriend from her, again.

"Why would she be here?" Rossi added.

"How did she get here? Maybe we can track the transportation and figure out means of abduction." Emily was the only one thinking about the case.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Spencer blurted out the truth.

"It's Y/N."

He was met with silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information.

Garcia caught up first, a sudden gasp sounding through the phone.

"So, then that's Y/N... in the video..." Her voice wavered.

As if a switch was flipped, the team was back on the case.

"Garcia, get me a list of anyone who would have a grievance with the team." Hotch ordered.

"Go through anyone who was falsely accused. Start with cases in or around Montana. He would want to keep this close to home." Rossi specified.

"We've only had one case in Montana since Y/N joined the team." Reid supplied the knowledge as it came to him. "A name, I need a name." He muttered to himself, pulling his hair as he roughly ran his hands through it and over his face. "Garcia, look into Jameson Braddock."

"Got it." She immediately began a background check, searching through case files and news articles for additional information. "i'll get back to you with locations." With that, she hung up.

"Fill us in, kid. Who is Jameson Braddock." Morgan lead Reid to a chair, gently easing him into it.

"Our last case in Montana, Emily and I went to interview a witness." Emily nodded, the memories slowly coming back to her.

"He wasn't very forthcoming, and then he tried to run." She added on.

"Exactly, except he didn't make it very fair. We arrested him, but it turned out he was only guilty of selling alcohol to minors. When word of his arrest got out, the whole town thought it was for the serial rapes and murders we were investigating even though it was never confirmed."

"By the time we corrected the media, it was too late." JJ supplied, also remembering the man.

"So, he killed three officers just to draw us out back out here?" Morgan refocused the conversation on the current case.

"It looks that way now. The media knew we were coming, so he must have as well." Emily theororized. "If he followed us from the airport, he would've seen Y/N leave by herself."

"He likely didn't know about your relationship until he abducted her and went through her phone." Hotch paced the room.

"He's flaunting his power over us." Rossi chimed in just as Hotch's phone rang again.

"Garcia, what've you got?"

"Three addresses in Billings, Montana. Jameson Braddock has been on a downward spiral since your last trip there. His entire life fell apart, like he said. Divorced, his wife moved to Nebraska with their two kids. He lost his job at the high school, and was evicted from his house when he could no longer pay the bills." She listed the information quickly.

"He has ties to three addresses. Nobody has moved into his previous house, so it's vacant. He's got a small apartment in the northern part of the city which he pays for through working odd hours at Taco Bell. Finally, he briefly worked security at a now abandoned warehouse."

"An apartment wouldn't be enough space to hold her without the chance of someone hearing. She's not there." Rossi eliminated the location as an option.

"We'll split up to cover the warehouse and the house-" Hotch began, but Reid cut him off.

"No, we shouldn't split up. She's got to be at the house. The warehouse has no connection to his previous life. He wants revenge for our perceived wrongdoing, he wouldn't make his last stand at a new location." Reid was already putting on a bullet proof vest. Despite how his mind was racing, he refused to show how afraid he was.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked, on the fence about committing to one location.

"Absolutely." With that, Reid was out the door heading for the SUVs.

-

"Rossi, Emily head around back. I'll take the front with Reid. JJ and Morgan, the side door." Hotch instructed the team to split up upon arrival at the house.

Reid wasted no time in approaching the house. He was confident you were inside, but he didn't know what was happening to you.

The main floor was cleared quickly. Again, the team split up to cover the upper level and the basement.

Knowing you were likely downstairs, Reid immediately started that direction, JJ and Hotch following him.

It wasn't hard for him to find you. You were still tied to the chair in the middle of the room, bag over your head.

Before anyone could stop him, Reid lowered his gun and ran to you. He gently maneuvered the bag off your head, stopping his movements only when he felt something press into his back.

"Dr. Reid. So kind of you to join us." Braddock spoke maniacally, pressing the gun against Reid's head.

"Drop your weapon." Hotch commanded, but the man only cackled in response.

'Y/N... Y/N." Reid gently shook you in an attempt to wake you up.

"She can't hear you." Braddock singsonged.

"What did you do?" Reid tried to turn to him only to feel the gun press further into his head.

"Like I said in my email, you people ruined my life. They took everything from me, so I thought I'd try to return the favor." During his short speech, Braddock shifted just enough for JJ to get a clean shot.

He fell to the ground, gun clattering across the floor.

Reid moved quickly to remove the tape binding you to the chair while Hotch called for a medic in the basement.

The entire team watched as you were wheeled into the ambulance, still unconscious, none more scared than Spencer.

-

"She's going to be fine, Spence." JJ tried to reassure him, nonetheless his pacing continued.

"You don't know that. We don't even know what he did to her." He had one hand anxiously running through his hair, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

Just then, a doctor emerged from behind closed doors.

"F/N L/N." She called into the waiting room, slightly taken aback when the group of agents rushed to her.

"It was touch and go for a while, but she got here just in time." It was visible to even the least qualified profiler how relieved the team felt. Their previously tense shoulders relaxed, frowns turned to small smiles, wide eyes and raised brows pinched together with joy.

"What happened?" Emily posed the question everyone was thinking.

"In short, she was drugged. It's not clear what exactly was used, but it was likely a mix of drugs that attempted to stop her heart."

"Can we see her?" Morgan spoke next, cautiously eyeing Reid.

"You may, follow me." The doctor lead them through a series of hallways to your room. "She should be waking up soon."

With that the doctor left, allowing the team to file into the room. You looked strangely peaceful for someone who almost died.

"So..." JJ glanced between you and Spencer. "Girlfriend, huh?"

His eyes went wide. Instinctively, he turned to you for help, but you were still asleep. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Relax, kid." Morgan grinned. "We're happy as long as you two are happy."

Spencer smiled gratefully, looking at you with an adoring gaze. "We are happy."

"How long?' Emily gestured to your joined hands. Just before Spencer could answer, you groaned.

"I want to hear your guesses first." Your voice was raspy, but there was a clear smile on your face. "Also, what happened?"

The quickly explained the email Garcia received and the events that followed.

"Now that that's cleared up, do tell us how long you think we've been together. I know you've got a bet going." You narrowed your eyes, playfully glaring at each team member.

"4 months." Hotch begrudgingly admitted. JJ followed with 3 months, Derek and Rossi both betting 10 weeks, and Emily going with 6 weeks.

"Ha, you're all wrong." You smiled triumphantly, leaning closer to Spencer.

"Wait, we haven't heard from Garcia." Derek smirked as he rung her on speaker phone.

"Oh, my beautiful crime fighters. Y/N, are you okay?" Your smile widened at the concern in her voice.

"I am indeed, but I have a very important question for you." You glanced as Spencer briefly before continuing. "How long do you think Spence and I have been together?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Her excitement caught everyone but you off guard. "7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days."

Spencer's jaw dropped as he stuttered out, "that's exactly right..."

"How'd you figure it out?" The group of profilers wore matching expressions of surprise as Penelope explained.

"Well, we had just finished testifying in the Bigelow trial. The whole team went out for drinks, and I could just see it in Y/N's eyes the next day that something wonderful happened. At first I just thought that she got some, but then I saw her and the good doctor in the kitchen getting coffee and I knew." Penelope's voice held a mixture of smugness and pure excitement.

"Babygirl, you didn't tell me?" Derek sounded genuinely offended.

"Y/N asked me not to." Even though you couldn't see her, you knew she punctuated the statement with a shrug.

"You knew, she knew?" Spencer turned to you in shock.

You nodded. "I could see it on her face the second I walked out of the kitchen. But she promised not to tell, so I didn't either."

"The two of you, thick as thieves." Rossi lamented.

"I love you so much." Spencer whispered into your ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

"I love you too." You whispered right back.

"Honestly, I'm glad the secret's out." You smiled at Spencer before looking at the rest of the team. "Although, I wish I didn't have to be kidnapped to tell you."

You spent a few more hours in the hospital before being cleared to go back to the hotel.

The next morning, you smiled to yourself as you were finally able to cuddle with Spencer during the flight home.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain

#spencer reid x reaader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic

[hqamore]

boreal star ✵ chapter one

people cannot outrun their past, not even the all-powerful darkling. and it so happens that his past just arrived at the palace gates.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] general kirigan (the darkling/aleksander) x reader

word count: 1.6k

non-english words: durak (a stupid man, a fool) & dorogaya (darling, sweetheart)

note: hope all is well! i was surprised to actually see interactions with the preview, so thank you very much. if you enjoy what you read, a comment goes a long way in terms of encouragement! if you have any questions or see any issues, i welcome pms or asks!

here’s the masterlist

when you arrived at the palace gates, a heavy guard presence and a lengthy line came into your sight. various emotions were scattered amongst the people: anticipation, dread, and hope. the line crept forward, guards tossing out several individuals in the process.

“the palace grounds are not open to visitors! if you do not have official business and papers to vet you, get lost!”

there was a pause followed by a number of sulking ravkans excusing themselves, grumbling about the sun summoner. the guards shook their heads as they continued processing each person.

when it was your turn, the guard gave you a dead look as he scanned your frame. “did you not hear what i said, little one? no papers, no entry.”

you offered him a tight smile. “i may not have any papers, but i think you’ll find the alternative plenty sufficient.”

he raised an eyebrow unconvinced. you rolled your eyes before gathering your hands in front of you. suddenly, he began floating in the air. gasps littered around you. the other guards, seeing their comrade in the air, rushed over and pointed their guns at you. as you lifted your arms in surrender, the floating guard found himself quickly acquainted with the ground again.

you hummed. “a six out of ten on the landing. what d’you think, boys?”

“arrest ‘em!” the guard huffed, straightening himself. “then, alert the king. he’ll want to see this grisha for himself.”

you extended your arms and two guards dragged you with them. “alright, alright. no need to be so rough, lads.” they were unrelenting and marched you right onto the palace grounds.

well, there’s no going back now.

✵ ✵ ✵

you stared up at the ceiling in your cell when footsteps grew closer.

“get up,” commanded a guard.

you lifted your head and gave him a once over. “and for what?”

with the jingle of keys, your cell door creaked open. one of the guards stepped in with wooden shackles. “the king will see you now.”

“oh, lovely.”

a guard pulled you up and yanked your arms behind you, securing them in the shackles.

“you guys certainly like to use force. have you tried talking to someone about it? it’s not good form to treat allies like this,” you chattered.

ignoring you, they pushed you towards the stairwell. you lagged behind them as you took in the nostalgic walls of the grand palace. not much had changed since the last time you laid eyes upon them. it was just as boring as you had remembered.

when you entered the throne room, whispers faded. a guard pushed you onto your knees before presenting you to the king. “this is the grisha we spoke of, your highness.”

the king peered down his nose, expression unchanging.

“is it true you’re grisha?” he questioned.

you looked at him with a small smirk. “would you like a demonstration, moi tsar?”

the guards around you trained their guns on you. you glanced at them unimpressed as you continued, “i mean that with all due respect. i spoke the truth when i said i was grisha. i am only here to help ravka.”

the king rubbed his goatee. “i hear you made a man float. what does that make you?”

“an etherealki.”

“a squaller then?” he speculated.

you shook your head as your smile grew. “a gravity summoner.”

hushed conversations erupted at your words, confusion reflecting in everyone’s faces. the tsar leaned forward in his seat with intrigue.

“i have never heard of such a thing,” he said.

“i do pride myself on being one of a kind,” you drawled. “surely, you would like to see a demonstration.”

he waved an attendant over. “call a heartrender.”

then, he nodded to you. “you understand, don’t you? as king, you can never be too cautious.”

you bowed your head slightly, still maintaining your smile. “i’m honored you’d think of me as a threat.”

“i would be a fool not to,” he snorted.

before the attendant could make it out of the throne room, a dulcet tone spoke from behind you.

“there’s no need, your highness,” it called, sending shivers up your spine. “i came as soon as i caught wind of an unknown grisha.”

you feel the mass of two bodies approaching the king. you tensed as a black ketfa swept past you. met with a familiar silhouette, you held your breath and redirected your attention to the ground.

“though, i am confused, moi tsar. if the issue was about grisha, why did you not call for me?”

the king waved his hand and nonchalantly said, “i wanted you to focus on training the sun summoner. this is a minor issue. no more, no less.”

“i see.” the man nodded to the corporalki who fixed his sight on you. “ivan, listen to their heart and make sure—”

you heard his talking cease once his feet faced you. there was a brief pause. you inhaled deeply before lifting your eyes to meet his. in that moment, your mind raced.

he looks the same as the day i left him... except that cockamamie hair is new. hmph, he’s still stupidly handsome but also plain stupid looking. look at him trying to piece it together.

“general?” the corporalki called, pulling you out of your thoughts.

the darkling cleared his throat and ripped his eyes away from you to look at the guards. “unchain them please. we need to see what kind of grisha they are.”

the guards unlocked your shackles, allowing you to rub your chafed wrists. you pushed yourself up and studied him for a moment. “i should get on with, ya?” you asked.

ivan glanced at his general, concern furrowing his brows at his odd behavior. he returned his focus to you and nodded, raising his hands in front of him. “if you get any ideas… well, i’m sure you’re familiar with what a heartrender can do.”

you let out a mocking laugh. “you’d be surprised at what i could do before you could even start.”

instantly, you felt an intense pressure in your chest, making your knees buckle. the corporalki smirked as blood rushed to your temple. in your struggle, you scowled at kirigan before you centered your hands. you shoved your hands down, increasing gravity’s pull on the heartrender. the pain in your heart let up once he fell to the ground. you gasped for air.

releasing him, you shakily regained your footing and breath. “do not forget, durak, i am not the enemy. you would have already perished if i were.”

slow clapping drew your attention away. the king looked overjoyed.

“that was riveting! general, what do you make of her?”

you raised an eyebrow at his statement. “are you sure? i haven’t even done the fun part. i could do more like make everyone in the room float or...” you trailed.

when you peeked at the shadow summoner, you could see his tense jaw and closed fists. his dark eyes met yours before he turned to the king with a false smile. “i’m sure they will be a valuable asset to ravka with the proper training.”

the king let out a hearty laugh, “i’m sure they will! treat them as though you would treat me, general kirigan. i have a feeling they will win me more than just expeditions across the fold.”

both grisha men bowed and pivoted towards you. kirigan clasped his hand around your forearm before pulling you away from the room. your feet stuttered as you tried to match his pace.

“either slow down or let go of me!”

relentless, he continued to stalk across the courtyard towards the little palace. you tugged away from his grasp and planted yourself with your powers. he circled to face you, rage evident in his glare.

“leave us,” he commanded. without another word, ivan left the two of you.

i suppose he wouldn’t want to do this where there are others.

while he was pacing, you stood there silently and waited for his eventual outburst.

his eyes were closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. a heavy sigh left his lips, “where have you been, [y/n]?”

“shu han, actually. it was quite lovely and the weather was just—”

“saints! [y/n], do i look to be in a gaming mood?” he yelled.

you tilted your head and your lips quirked. “no? then, why act as if you had no idea who i was? were we not playing pretend? you seemed so into the game, general kirigan.”

he closed in on you, his gaze burning. he opened his mouth but no words left it. he gritted his teeth and turned away as his hands clenched and unclenched.

“it has been thirty years, [y/n]. why return at all?”

in a moment of confidence, you inched closer to him. your hands slid up his back, onto his shoulders. you leaned into his ear. “for you, my love.”

you let go and created space between you. he spun slowly, his features riddled with disbelief. “you still have feelings for me?”

breathy laughter escaped you. “feelings for you, darling? don’t be ridiculous. as if any of my past affections for you could bring me back to this over-glorified cage you’ve created. no, aleksander, i’m here to ruin you.”

his body tensed before an arrogant smirk set on his lips. he crept nearer. “ruin me? i’d love to see you try. you forget, dorogaya, i have an army. what do you have?”

“you. or, rather, i know how your mind works. i know your tactics, general. let’s see how you fare when i pick you apart from the inside,” you sang as you brushed past him. “now, come show me to my room.”

continue to chapter two? yes

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #grishaverse fanfiction #aleksander morozova x reader #boreal star

[grain-my-beloved]

Yknow what? I'd actually go so far as to say that, as much as ive seen it complained about, it's actually pretty hard to "UwU" or "Woobify" Grian within the context of yhs.

I mean. It's possible if you go really extreme with it, but it's hard.

Grian at his core is actually a primarily decent person most of the timeand is a primarily innocent party in most things. One who goes through a Lot.

If you really think about it Grian's moral compass isn't too far off normal basic human morality. He's often anxious and hesitant when faced with any involvement in criminal activity, he's frequently dismayed and offput by suggestions of violence (the less deserved the more dismay is expressed as well), he's disappointed and frustrated at seeing the people around him do fucked up things, he's almost always polite with a good head on his shoulders when faced with a kind or reasonable person. Even well into ts, long after first coming back to Japan, Grian is still incredibly uneasy and fidgety with the suggestion that he take part in violence, I mean, remember that time he, Taurtis, and Sam were tasked with killing Geode and Grian not only initially tried to refuse outright but then checked in shakily with the other two multiple times just to confirm if they were really going to kill someone. Grian's typically the character most likely in the entire series to be incredibly put off by and very hesitant about doing bad things (especially to people he's not one million percent certain deserve it).

And while one could argue that we can't really praise his moral compass for being hesitant about involving himself in crime/wrongdoing when he often ends up participating anyways. Actions speak louder than words and all. However I disagree. The fact that Grian vocally does not wish to be involved in this kind of thing and has proven to behave on the more reasonable and polite side when acting independently in relation to likewise level headed people....is Very important. In fact, in actual legal cases, oftentimes a factor in trying individuals is the question of whether they would commit the crime in question indepently or under normal circumstances. This is the basis for necessity, duress, and insanity pleas, amoung other's. People who would not act the way they did in a certain scenario under normal circumstances are often liable to be judged favourably in their actions. In fact, speaking of duress pleas, Grian's got a pretty solid one for a lot of his actions. The times Sam or Yuki held a knife to his throat or the times police threatened to kill him if he doesn't comply with orders or any alike incidents. In cases where duress isn't applicable to Grian's behaviour there are oftentimes incidents in which an outright case for violence in self defense can be made. In fact, most of Grian's circumstances leave him very viable to be judged sympathetically on a legal standpoint. The fact that he was a minor, the fact that he had no apparent history of violence or crime, the fact that he was in a severely abusive relationship with a criminal and entering said relationship marked the start of any sort of criminal behaviour from Grian, any criminal behaviour from Grian always being in a group setting never lead by himself, the fact that he always clearly and openly protests when pulled into these group settings, the duress and self defense pleas that are applicable to pretty much all incidents in which he does engage. Which are also all factors that can and should be accounted for on. a moral basis as well, obviously. And like, Grian has a reputation for being arrogant, cynical, and rude or whatever, but he's really not. He very rightfully calls out other people's horrible bullshit and makes snappy remarks towards his abuser but that's the opposite of a problem and Grian's proven himself more than capable of reasonable civility towards reasonable people. Grian just isn't the selfish arrogant disrespectful criminal that he's sometimes implied to be and in fact he's largely innocent- or absolvable, if you'd rather- in most of the things levied against him. Grian's not a literal saint giving to the needy and taking care of orphans in his spare time but he's a decent guy overall???

And hey, speaking of that super abusive relationship Grian landed in. Let's not forget the impact of that situation. Sam was undoubtedly abusive towards Grian. He threatened Grian's life various times, he basically told Grian he was nothing compared to Taurtis, he shoved plastic down Grian's throat and laughed when he choked, he got Grian locked up in solitary confinement through complete lies just because he thought it'd be entertaining I guess, he forced Grian to kiss an abnormally large amount of people against his will (some of these instances sam recorded despite being asked not to), he himself tried to make out with Grian without consent while Grian was sleeping in his own private room, he forcefully dressed Grian up in feminine cosplay meant to be ~attractive~ complete with fake breasts, he lied to Grian about the gender identity of someone Grian dated as a joke (his words) and lightly mocked Grian afterwards, he locked Grian in a basement for three days straight and it's unclear whether or not he was planning to let him out anytime soon, he dragged Grian into a closet with school staff despite Grian's very vocal distress and discomfort then scolded Grian for considering reported it when this staff member made uncomfortable comments on the outfit Sam had forced Grian into, Sam offered to give Grian to another guy who made a similar uncomfortable comment later on as part of some trade, he consistently dragged Grian against his will into criminal activity whether by threatening him, tricking him into participating, or just altogether falsely implicatng him, amoung Many other things. And every step of the way Sam did his best to completely gaslight Grian. He used every gaslighting technique in the book. Telling blatant lies (for example, "i would never stab taurtis", "you are taurtis", "grian's crazy and he stabbed taurtis"), he denies doing shit to Grian that Grian knows damn well he did ("i would never stab taurtis"). He hard projected his bs onto Grian (from blaming grian for 'making' sam do awful shit sam did to claiming grian actually fullstop did the awful shit sam did). He was just constantly trying to turn people against Grian (convincing yuki and taurtis to back him up in calling grian a bad manipulative friend and insisting he needed to apologize for 'making' sam horrifically abuse him. arriving in the police station and instantly without hesitation telling them grian was crazy and dangerous and pinning his own crimes on grian. having taurtis back him up and help scold grian for getting mad about being locked in the basement for days). Telling Grian he's crazy (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident, the time sam kissed grian without his consent while he slept and grian got mad). Telling everyone else that Grian's a manipulative liar (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident again). Yknow. Gaslighting. Sam was just so unbelievably abusive. In like. Every possible way. Which adds a LOT of trauma to Grian. That on top of his parents abandoning him as a little kid too because we couldn't leave it at severe abuse.

Grian's not a bad person. And he's certainly a very sympathetic person. Which is why it would be hard to woobify yhs Grian. It would be hard to make a very sympathetic very sad character egregiously sympathetic and sad. His whole arc is getting abandoned by his parents, going to visit his friends, and getting violently abused and forced into a multitude of disturbing activities against his will for an extended period of time.

One could argue that sure Grian isn't a bad person and sure Grian's got a pretty sad life, but certainly a lot of people are guilty of making Grian more helpless and scared and generally 'pathetic' than he is in canon.

To which I reply...not really?

Grian already doesn't have half the fight response people ascribe to him throughout the series. That was a whole other post but honestly Grian's response to traumatic situations is very frequently to cave to them and he's got a much stronger submissive streak than people often admit. I mean, Grian was asked to dress up as his best friend who just got stabbed "to make things less awkward and make me feel better" and he did it within ten seconds of being asked without the others even needing to threaten him at all. Grian does express quite a bit of despair, fear, and submissive tendency in canon when faced with dangerous or traumatic situations. And while it's possible to go a bit too far with that if you consistently leave out the token fight entirely, I see people swing way too far un the opposite direction way too often. There's a reason Grian never actually killed Sam in canon. There's a reason Grian never made a serious attempt to get him arrested for his crimes. There's a reason Grian never just left. When Sam found Grian after he ran out of the gym during the Taurtis incident? Grian didn't lunge for Sam. There was no serious altercation between the two. Grian scrambled back and tearfully babbled platitudes while shoving plastic down his own throat on command. And even beyond that, a lot of the interpretations accused of making Grian too helpless/scared/'pathetic' are works that involve Grian processing trauma years after the fact. Which. Even if Grian was the most aggressive on edge fighter in the history of trauma responses during the traumatic events? People don't process their trauma after the fact the same way they instinctively respond in the moment. Even if Grian never shed a tear throughout any of the traumatic ordeals he experienced, it would be far from unrealistic behaviour for him to still process after the fact by panicking and sobbing his eyes out regularly. Which, again, Grian wasn't even all that fight oriented while it was happening so panic and tears isn't even super far removed from his actual in the moment responses let alone processing after-responses. It's just. It's really hard to "UwU" Grian tbh. He's a decent person, he went through hell (his own words actually), and he was never even really very effectively aggressive when he did. And while it's possible to dip too far into that territory, far more often I see things swung egregiously far in the other direction.

#yhs #yandere highschool #yhs grian

[gotnofucks]

Chemical Romance

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris won’t have you running away from him. You’re his. He owns your heart, and now he’ll own all of you.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: RPF, smut, slight dubcon(ish), jealous and possessive Chris, toxic relationship, recording without permission, forced marriage

A/N: I wrote this months ago and pulled it out to share it with my bestie @donutloverxo​ . Berry finally convinced me to post this and helped me beta this. Babe, I love you!

You were way past your teenage years, and yet you had the urge to giggle like one. If you licked your lips, you could still taste the trace of wine that had stained his lips. The memory of them pressing against you, brushing gently until they tangled in a mix of tongue and teeth had a delicious heat burning in your face. This was a good date, the third good date with a good man you met, and you were excited for more.

Looking over your shoulder you saw the lights of his car disappearing in the dark of night and you sighed contently, shutting your door behind you and dropping your keys in the bowl by the door. All of a sudden, your body broke into goosepimples, a chill settling over you and it took you a moment to understand why. Your body was recognizing the dark presence before your mind could.

“Good evening sweetheart. Had a good date?”                                                      

The door was right behind you, you could easily grab your car keys right now and run away. And yet all you could do was hold onto the wall as your knees trembled. You’d never been good at running away from him anyway.

Chris was lounging on your sofa, watching you with those arresting blue eyes that you knew changed shades with his mood. His beard was thicker than the last you’d seen him, and his lips were pulled into a sardonic smirk, eyes glinting furiously.

“How?” You sputtered, still rooted to your spot. You could run, you should run, but you knew you wouldn’t go far. He let you go only so far to give you a false sense of achievement, a mere taste of relief and freedom until he snatched you back to himself.

“I always think that every time you leave, it would be the last. You’ll realize that its futile, you’ll realize that we’re meant to be together.” Chris said, “But never did I imagine you to be stupid enough to be with another man.”

His voice had been described as dreamy by many, even by yourself, but right now it only rang of danger and anger. Softness was Chris’s weapon, to deliver the meanest words with a smile that was poison sweet. One time, you had loved to taste that poison yourself. Did it still run in your veins and taint you?

Looking at you from under his lashes, he spread his legs and beckoned you to him. You gulped before following, not daring to look away from him until you were before him.

“Kneel” He ordered softly. You knees hit the ground, the rug digging into your skin. He watched you watch him, eyes locked in a dialog of their own until his rough hand caressed the skin of your cheek. You leaned into his touch, hating yourself for being a slave to him and your desire. Even on your knees, the familiar feeling of peace flooded your senses. Nothing made you feel as alive as worshiping him. And nothing killed you as much as loving him.

“Please” You begged, pressing a kiss into his palm. “Don’t do this to me.”

Chris regarded you with a look that was almost tender, his blue eyes staring into your own as if unearthing every secret you had ever kept from him. He pulled you closer, close enough to have you raise up and hold his shoulders while his lips brushed gently against yours.

“For as long as I live, you are mine. You know that. Why must you fight it?”

It had been a couple months since you last saw him, since the pads of his fingers had glided over the curves of your body and claimed you as his. You melted, you melted like the butter in a hot pan, sizzling with the heat of his ardor. One taste of him and you were ready to forget why you had left him, why you had packed up and left his house when he was out. Chris Evans didn’t just play your body, he also played your heart. He loved you so hard that it hurt.

You wondered if you should fight, if you should scream or cry. But you knew it the moment you walked inside your house tonight: you were going nowhere but to him. He held you as you captured his lips in yours, a hand fisting his hair and tugging. He pulled until you were on his lap, his beard scratching your skin and reminding you of all the ways he had marked you before.

Panting, you pulled away when he breathily whispered your name, eyes liquid and feral and kind. He was a man of many layers and you had unveiled the darkest of them. He no longer hid the rawest parts of him, and you never knew if it was a good thing or not.

“Pack up, I’m taking you back home.” He said, hands settling on your waist. “I am not spending one more night in a bed without you.”

You nodded, stealing another kiss until you surrendered to his demands. Again.

Dodger ran to you, whining and wagging his tail as you sat down to give him better access. You’d missed your furry companion, his coat soft on your cheek when you nuzzled into him. Chris chuckled, rolling your bags into his room while you and Dodger had your little reunion.

“I am so sorry Bubba” You cooed to him, scratching behind his ears. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me, hmm?”

Dodger barked, rubbing his body against you. You laughed, cuddling your little boy. You’d missed waking upto him snuggled by your feet and the soft pattering of his feet as he followed you around.

“He didn’t eat right for a week after you left. You were being a bad mommy.” Chris said coming behind you. He petted Dodger before pulling you up by your arm, your chest flushed to his. You loved how he smelled of coffee and beer and cinnamon. He tasted of them too, bitter and addictive.

Your fingers traced a path in his beard, lips pressing into the hollow of his throat. It scared you how much power he had over you. You’d promised yourself you’ll break away from his hold when you found him snooping in your phone again. His possessiveness knew no bounds. If Chris had it his way, he’d hide you in a castle made only for his eyes. But right now, in the heaven of his arms, you couldn’t remember why you left him in the first place.

“I am sorry.” You whispered, hugging him tight. His arms came around you, holding you so possessively close that even death couldn’t rip you apart. Chemical romance, that’s how Scott had explained your relationship once. Your friends had stopped complaining, had stopped warning after losing count over how often you broke up and got back together.

“I am so pissed at you.” He said in your ear, breath warm on your skin. “I want to erase every lingering trace of that man’s touch from your body. But more than that, I need to remind you who you belong to.”

You refused to look at him, burying your head in his chest even as you held him tighter.

“I belong to you. I know it baby, I made a mistake.” You said, voice muffled. Chris tutted, pushing your face away firmly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze.

“Here I am, feeling guilty for even touching other women during a scene that is supposed to be my job. And my girl goes around fucking other men because we had an argument?” He hissed, a nerve throbbing in his temple. You pouted, bottom lip wobbling as you tried not to cry. You were raised to be a strong woman, someone who could speak for herself. How was it so easy for this man to reduce you to a sniveling woman for something that wasn’t even your fault.

“I didn’t fuck him.” You countered and Chris’s eyes flashed. You stared at each other until Chris practically growled and dragged you towards the bedroom. Dodger trailed behind you, stopping once Chris ordered him to stay put.

His bedroom, a space you had shared and abandoned all too many times was the same as always. It reeked of his aftershave and cologne, the stars winking at you from the window that overlooked the ground. Chris shut the door, rounding on you and pushing you towards the bed.

“You didn’t fuck him?” He spat, ticked off. “You let him touch you, you let him put his hands on what belongs to me.”

You shivered as your back met the cold sheets, bouncing slightly on the mattress. His anger was scary, but more than that it was exciting. It was you who had brought this strong, powerful man to this animalistic side. You, who could make him scowl and shout and get his heart pumping enough to bring blood to his face. You, who made him primitive as he held you down and fucked you into submission.

“We only kissed.” You said, knowing how to provoke him. That kiss was nice, it was sweet. But your body craved rough and hard, it craved to be possessed and used and worshiped. It craved Chris who left his handprints on your butt and his spent in your cunt. It craved Chris who kissed you until you were out of breath, who whispered the filthiest things to you as he buried himself in your warmth over and over until you were too hoarse to even cry.

He knew it, he read that in your eyes and in your touch that seared through the layers of clothes on his body. He knew you were getting under his skin on purpose, hurting him the way he hurt you so many times. Neither of you held back.

You tore away at his clothes, bucking your hips frantically in a bid to get closer. Chris cursed, squeezing your ass in his large hands and grounding his hardness on your thigh.

“You are testing me” He warned, naked flesh touching yours and hands entwining. You ignored him, the wetness dripping down your core begging his attention.

“Eat me” You cried, wiggling under him. He held fast, rubbing his cock on your abdomen, groaning softly. He nuzzled your neck, kissing softly on the spot he knew drove you wild. His weight prevented you from moving too much, not allowing you to do anything for yourself.

“You don’t tell me what to do baby. Not after letting another man touch you. Not after you walked out on me again.” He said angrily, forcing his gentle touch on your body that craved his roughness. You sobbed against his mouth, getting drunk on his lazy kisses and feather soft caresses. You knew what he was doing, you knew he wanted you to break and beg. And you had no dignity.

“Please” You begged, pathetically with tears in your eyes. “Give me what I want Chris. I’ll be good to you, I promise.”

He smirked, sucking a pert nipple in his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You moaned, struggling to move more. It wasn’t enough to have you under him. He needed more than your compliance. He needed your surrender, he needed you to love him with a hunger as great as his. He was greedy.

“Even when you beg, you look like a goddess. You’re my angel, but I’m not gonna let you go to heaven. We’ll sin together in hell.”

He dove in, tongue swiping away your juice in a practiced move as you howled at the suddenness of his attack. Your thighs held his head captive between their plump flesh, mewls spilling from your mouth without restraint as he finally gave you what you wanted. You pulled on his hair, steering him closer to your core that was flaming under his mouth and flooding with pleasure.

“Oh Chris!” You moaned, writhing and trembling. You had missed his beard scratching the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, missed his nails digging in your flesh to keep you steady, missed his tongue poking inside your warm cavern to taste your sweet nectar. Chris never worshiped you like a devotee to the lord. He worshipped you like a man summoning the devil, by spilling blood and leaving marks that stain the soul.

“Look at you go darling, so beautiful” He praised, easing a finger inside you and curling it. You threw your head back, shattering with an orgasm that took your breath away. Pleasure was a feeling you were familiar with, but combined with Chris’s love and anger, it formed the most intoxicating mix that got you dizzy.

He kissed the swollen head of your clit, gently easing you down from your high with praises whispered directly to your leaking cunt. He cupped your pussy, grinding his heels against you as your eyes met.

“Nobody else will touch you here. Or anywhere else for that matter.” He ordered and you nodded, still desperate for him. His cock was red and angry, warm drops of precum leaking over your stomach and you tugged at him, asking to fill you up.

“Chris, I need you inside me. Please.”

He crawled up and laid beside you, jerking you on top of him. Your hands found his chest, lightly playing with his nipples and the spattering of hair there before moving down to cup his hardness and his balls. He jerked at the first contact, closing his eyes as his breath hitched and you smiled at your own effect over him. You could reduce him to a mess just as well he could to you.

Pumping his length, you licked it slowly, lathering it with your saliva. You remembered the day you’d named it Cumstopher Rogers and he’d slapped you with it, making you choke on him until you had to apologize.

“Put me inside you now because if I have to take over, I’ll choose which hole it goes in and you probably won’t like it.” He growled in impatience. You clenched, his threats going straight to your core.

You positioned yourself over him, sinking slowly and gently, feeling every part of him against your spongy walls. With your thighs flush to his, you stopped to just let the feeling of fullness last a little longer. No matter how many times you’d been with each other, the feeling of Chris being so deep inside you never got old. If you could, you’d never be empty.

“All my holes like your cock Mr. Evans. And I? I love it and your butt and your chest and arms and face and everything else.”

You moved at a slow pace, bouncing gently while holding onto his thighs. Taking his hand in yours, you placed it on your chest, asking him to play with your nipples as you rode him.

“You feeling powerful, baby? You feeling good bouncing on my dick?” He asked, pinching a nipple almost to the point of pain. You nodded, leaning down to kiss him as he started thrusting up a little, hitting your cervix when he went too deep. You rolled your belly, clenching your muscles around his length so that his eyes flew open and hands dug into the softness of your butt.

“Oh Chris, I missed this.” You told him, tasting the sweat on his temple. He nodded, his huge arms wrapping around you and pulling you intimately close.

“I missed you too, which is why I will make sure you never leave me. This is not your power move, this is mine.” He darkly murmured and your eyes met his in confusion. He looked at the side and you followed his gaze, mouth dropping open at the camera that blinked at you with a red light on.

“What the fuck, Chris?” You shout, trying to move away when he rolled you over and under him, thrusting in hard.

“Oh yes, what the fuck baby” He said, holding your wrists as he picked up his pace. “You think it’s okay to pack a bag and leave me every time? You think it’s okay to date other men, to kiss other men? You are mine. And if anyone needs proof of that, now I can show it to them.”

You cried out as he went harder, a pressure building deep inside your belly. Tears escaped your eyes, gazing into blue ones that you loved and hated with a passion. You could have asked him to stop now, you could shout that you don’t want him and he’s sick. But you didn’t. You knew he would stop if you really wanted him to, and as much as your heart broke and your chest tightened with hurt, you loved him. You loved his twisted ways to keep you with him. You loved it when he went above and beyond, got crazy in his desire for you. You were wanted. You were cherished.

“Fuck you.” You cursed, meeting every thrust of his with a raise of your hips. Your eyes closed, sweat dripping down your body as you let the animalistic part of you take over, screaming and tearing and fucking each other like two people whose only goal in life was to be embedded in the other’s heart and psyche.

“I’d like to see you try to walk out tomorrow after tonight.” Chris said, delivering punishing strokes that were agonizing and titillating, that were fire and ice. You held onto him, leaving crescent shaped scars to join the numerous tattoos across his body. He took you apart, fucked you so good all you could do was say him name and fall in a glittery haze of his presence. He came inside you, filling you to the brim and crushing your body with his weight.

You weren’t leaving, that much was obvious.

Throwing in your clothes haphazardly in the bag, you promised yourself this would be the last time you did this. You will not come back to this house and this bed. Chris and you were done for good. The past few months had followed the same pattern. You both rekindling the dying flame of your relationship, mending the broken hearts and trust until it went back to hell.

There were too many arguments, too much shouting and angry sex. Every time you sat down to talk, it ended with your legs in the air. Your mother was right. He wasn’t right for you. Chris wanted to be your hero and your villain. He wanted you to think of nobody but him. Any friends and family that warned you against him had to be cut off. He’ll dismiss every article the paparazzi published about him but would throw a fit if you so much as smiled at the cashier in the grocery store. He kept you close like a dog on a leash, feeling jealous at the very sight of you talking to any man. You’d wanted to give this relationship a chance, but as of twenty minutes ago, Chris had made sure it was over.

You wondered about taking your pictures, but it was better to stay away from any temptations. This was happening, and as much as it broke your heart, you will not come back to him. Zipping up your bag, you straightened just as Chris stormed inside the room, jaw clenched in anger.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He barked, “Put your stuff back. I’ll be damned if I let you leave me again.”

You scowled at him, wiping the stray tears from your eyes. He had no right to ask anything of you, not after what he had just done.

“Fuck off Chris. I am leaving, and you can’t stop me.” You shouldered past him, sadly looking at Dodger who was whining softly as he watched you move. He had seen this happen enough times to know that you’re not coming home.

Chris marched behind you, snatching your wrist and pulling you back to himself. The blue in his eyes was darker, like the sky covered in thunder clouds. You squirmed, pushing against him.

“You. Are. Not. Leaving.” He hissed, looking scary and mad.

“How dare you? After what you did today?” You sobbed, hitting your fists on his chest. He held your jaw, bringing your face closer to him so he could peer into your watery eyes.

“I proposed! I got down on one knee. What the fuck is your problem?” He shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

You shook your head, looking at him with an expression of disbelief. Is he that oblivious?

“Marriage is permanent Chris” You said, voice suddenly soft. “Marriage is living your life devoted to your partner. We can’t break up and leave and come back again. It’s a responsibility. You and I, we haven’t been able to keep a stable relationship. How the hell will we keep a happy marriage?”

Chris frowned, not liking what you said. He pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his huge arms on either side. You could smell the chocolate and wine on his breath from dinner, his hair all messed up from when he ran his hands through it. On his neck still hung the necklace you’d got him.

“Look at me” He said, pressing his forehead to yours. You breathed deeply, finding it difficult to maintain an eye contact as charged with anger and passion as this one. “You love me, you still love me. It’s all in your eyes. Why won’t you marry me?”

You wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Why did loving him have to be so difficult? Was love worth the fights, the tears and pain and loss of independence? Was loving him enough to keep you going? You were so tired of this back and forth with him. You’d never even talked about marriage before, having been too busy trying to keep any sort of relationship alive. Why would he do this to you?

As your limbs got heavier, you leaned forward and hugged him. You held him to yourself, soaking in his warmth and smell inside you for what would be the last time. You could not give up so much of yourself to sustain this love. Soon enough, there would be nothing more to give and the love would be dead.

“You need to let me go Christopher” You said to him, lips close to his ear. “You need to understand that love is only the beginning. I can’t keep doing this anymore. Please, just let me go.”

Chris hugged you tighter, his head resting over yours and heart beating strong beneath your hand. He was your night, full of twinkling stars and dark mysteries. But dawn was approaching fast, and you needed to bid goodbye to the moon to greet the sun that awaited you.

“Never.” He promised, “You are never leaving me again. I’ll fucking make sure of it.”

He picked you up suddenly, ignoring your protests as he carried you back into the bedroom. Kicking your bag aside, he dropped you on the bed, raising a finger to stop you. He took out the ring from his pocket, the very one you had refused this evening and held it to you.

“Put this on.” He ordered and you rubbed your eyes in exasperation.

“No.”

You both glared at each other, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Fighting with Chris had always been a thrill, more often than not ending with wild sex on any and all surfaces in sight. But today you were determined to end it. You’d not let yourself become weak at the sight of his cock.

“Okay then, you’ve left me no choice.” Chris said. He picked up his phone and tapped away on it, doing god knows what. You sighed, getting up and putting your stuff together again, ignoring his presence behind you. Chris threw his phone on the bed, looking stoically at you work. You were just folding the last of your clothes when your phone started buzzing. You ignored it for a minute, but it kept up, almost falling off the table with its vibrations.

“What the fuck” You gasped, looking at the hundreds of notifications pouring in as more followed. You quickly opened your Instagram to see you’d been tagged by Chris.

And she said YES!

Below that caption was a picture of the both of you from a couple months ago, cuddled up and smiling at each other.

Comments and likes from everyone were popping in, and soon enough, you saw your mother’s call. You stared at Chris, utterly in disbelief. What had he done?

“Try saying no now. You’d be the bitch who broke Chris Evans’s heart, the bitch who played him. Try walking in public between people who’d see you only as a slut and nothing more.”

Your world came crashing down. You were not some hotshot celebrity like Chris. You were just a girl trying to live her life the best way she knew how to, and how it ended up entangled with this man you’d never understand. Even if you shouted from the rooftops the truth of today, no one would believe you. Chris’s fans would tear you to shreds, destroy your life with their mean comments and attacks. And your family would not be spared either. They’ll be exposed to a celebrity scandal, dragged through the mud along with your good name.

“Oh god Chris, what have you done?” You choked out, falling to your knees. He came before you, gently caressing your head before kneeling in front of you. Cupping your face, he kissed you deep and hard, countering your hate with his love that hit you like your own kryptonite.

“I told you. I told you I’ll never let you leave.” He breathed against your mouth, pulling you closer. You dug your nails in his arms, hurting him with the hurt he just caused you, but he didn’t even flinch.

“You’re a monster” You said, chest heaving with emotions.

“Yes, I am. But you know what darling?” He said sweetly, “Even after this, you still love me. I am a monster, but I am a monster you created and one you love.”

You ended up on the bed, sprawled underneath him again. Even with icy hate in your eyes, your heart burned with love for him. It was unnatural, it was chemical and wrong. And yet, it was your reality. He was yours, no matter what he did. And you were his, regardless of every protest that you ever made.

“Now, I’ll ask this one more time. Will you marry me?” He asked softly, looking at you like you were all he ever saw.

“Yes” You breathed, watching silently as he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed it. Meeting your eyes, he settled over your body, his arousal pulsing over your thigh. Sealing the deal with a kiss, Chris went to remove your shirt.

“Then let’s celebrate. After we’re done, we can call our families with the good news.”

#chris evans x reader #dark!chris evans x reader #chris x reader #dark!chris evans #chris evans #chris evans rpf

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

#acab