#godDAMN i fucking hate rich entitled people

[anonymous-dentist]

But also:

-

It’s a little funny how Penacony is intergalactically-renowned as a ‘dream world’ when everything in it is a goddamn nightmare.

The lights? Too bright, flashing, colorful: red and blue and pink and orange and colors that can only exist in the distorted subconscious that the dream realm is built upon.

The sounds? Too loud, too everywhere: cars honking and bands playing and people screaming and advertisement boards chasing you down begging for you to check out their home store because even a dimension entirely made out of dreams has fallen into the immoral clutches of capitalism.

Cellbit hates it. He hates everything about it, actually, down to the strange fluttering in his stomach every time he passes by a sentient traffic cone and the buzzing in his head when he drinks too much SoulGlad.

But the IPC has their eyes on the planet, and so Cellbit is here before Cucurucho and the rest of the IPC Census Bureau can arrive and take stock of the people they’re ready to enslave. You can’t die in a dream, but maybe Cellbit can kill Cucurucho good enough in the dream realm that she’ll wake up in the hotel and have a heart attack at the memory of their own death.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Cellbit sips at his SoulGlad with a faint smile on his lips. Penacony is supposed to make his dreams come true, right? Maybe the Family can allow him just one little murder before sicking their Bloodhounds on him.

“This stuff sucks,” Roier complains, slumping against the bar with his still-full glass in hand. “Why don’t they just serve water here?”

More important than the IPC and Cucurucho, however, is the Fool by Cellbit’s side. It’s Roier’s birthday, and he wanted a nice vacation to get away from the whole ‘revenge quest’ thing they’ve been doing for the past couple of common galactic month cycles. He wanted his dream vacation, and so Cellbit got him just that: a vacation inside of a literal dream.

“You’re in a dream, and you just want water?” the bartender incredulously asks. She shakes her head and walks away to the other end of the bar to handle a drunk wine bottle complaining about her ex husband the whiskey.

“It’s my birthday!” Roier whines. He smushes his cheek against the sticky bar top and squeezes his eyes shut. “Even the water tastes like shit! It’s all sparkly and stuff!”

Cellbit rolls his eyes. “It’s sparkling water, pendejo. I don’t think they even have water on Penacony. Just alcohol.”

Roier groans dramatically. “I want to go home!”

‘Home’ being Cellbit’s ship, the Ordem. It’s a tiny little thing- so small that he and Roier have to share a bed in the closet pretending to be sleeping quarters- but it sure beats trying to hitchhike between planets. (Cellbit knows from experience.)

Cellbit gently pats Roier’s back. “If you aren’t having fun here, we can go somewhere else. Unlimited dream worlds, remember? There’s gotta be something you’ll like.”

Currently, they’re in Golden Hour. But Cellbit thinks there’s a dream realm that’s one big huge restaurant somewhere, Roier should like that. He likes food, and he likes the natural chaos that comes with a restaurant full of rich entitled people.

But Roier just shakes his head and cracks an eye open to look up at Cellbit.

“Can we just… go back to our room?” he asks. “Maybe we can come back later, but only if they have actual fucking water!”

He sits up and shouts that last bit at the bartender, who just sighs and continues consoling the wine bottle. (Apparently, the whiskey cheated on her with a bottle of champagne from the amusement park realm. Wow, what a piece of shit.)

Cellbit’s face softens, and he nods. “Of course. And maybe we’ll get to kill Cucurucho when we come back.”

Roier smiles at that. “Ay, don’t get my hopes up.”

Because Roier’s best friend and son have been ‘acquired’ by the Census Bureau, and Cellbit’s whole planet was destroyed by the Census Bureau’s actions. Cucurucho needs to die, simple. And they’re going to make it happen, even in their dreams.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose. #I’m just rambling don’t mind me #it’s very niche but I love it

[yallemagne]

My take is that people try hard to make Dracula into The Phantom of the Opera. But it doesn't work.

And even the Phantom of the goddamn Opera is not a good love interest. He's manipulative, he's a groomer, and he's a murderer.

BUT EVEN HE HAD A TRAGIC BACKSTORY. He was born with deformities that caused the world to be cruel to him. He was once innocent. The tragic part is that, instead of trying to better the world, he was determined to make it so everyone else would have to suffer as he did. He's a villain but at least one that you could feel a bit bad for.

Dracula was a fucking warlord. He's had everything given to him on a silver platter, and the few things that were denied to him? He would kill and maim and torture anyone in his way to get what he wanted. The best people can put forward as a "tragic backstory" for him is "oh his wife died". Yeah, his wife, who was likely a glorified slave to him: living property. And when she apparently reincarnates into some random poor Englishwoman who does not love or want him, he will kill, maim, and torture anyone to steal back his "property".

I hate Erik, but holy shit, he has a reason for his cruelty. Now, there's never a good reason to be so cruel, but he at least has a defined motivation. He was denied all the comforts of life, and so now, he feels entitled to them. The people he lashes out against are people he perceives to have wronged him. But when he is shown kindness, he realizes how wrong he has been and lets Christine go.

Dracula was some entitled rich boy. Vampirism suits him because he's always been a parasite who can get away with bleeding people dry because he is their boyar. He cut off his connection with Mina because she was a threat, because he didn't realize a woman could outsmart him, and now he's running away like a coward. The only way they could stop his reign of terror was to KILL HIM.

You know a man sucks when I start defending the Phantom.

#update #people ask me things #phantom of the opera #erik the phantom #dracula #dracula daily #count dracula

[shipskicksandgiggles]

14 Parkner

i keep telling myself I need to finish all my prompts before school starts so lets go

prompt: “Pants!!! Pants!!!” (from this list)

Read Seconds from a Secret here on ao3

~~~

Peter stuck to a fairly consistent schedule. Parts of this of course he couldn’t help. His classes were held at the same times on the same days every week, so that never changed. The rest of his schedule sort of shaped itself around that. 

His schedule was so consistent even that Harley knew it down to the letter. 

Every weekday, Peter woke up at 9:30am, got dressed, and stumbled his way into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal while he complained about Harley’s coffee. Then he had class. Monday and Wednesday they ran 10:30am-12:00pm, then he broke for lunch until 1:15pm before he went to another class. Tuesday and Thursday were fairly similar, except he didn’t get nearly as long to eat, so he tended to just go for a granola bar until he could get home for dinner. 

Fridays were the only day that was completely different. Instead of classes that day, they headed down to Stark Industries for their internship. It was a stroke of luck that they both worked for Tony Stark when they met, so they just set up their schedules so they got to work together. Tony let them design their own schedules, so it was perfect. 

Still, they both had other jobs. That was the only mystery of Peter’s schedule. Harley had no idea what his second job was, or why Peter wouldn’t tell him anything about it. So from mid-afternoon until late in the evening six days a week, Harley had no idea where his roommate was. 

Harley couldn’t even guess at what he did. Peter spent a long time getting ready, long enough that Harley would leave the apartment before he would, and got back before Harley did. 

Unlike Peter, Harley didn’t hide his second job. He was a waiter at a fancy restaurant down the street from their building. It sucked, he hated it, and he wanted to quit almost every day, but the tips were good and it paid the rent, so he stuck with it. 

Not that it mattered. He was choosing to focus on more important things. Like the case he was building that Peter was a stripper. 

That also didn’t matter. Harley didn’t have anything against sex work as long as it was legal and consensual. 

However, he didn’t want Peter to be scared to tell him these sorts of things. They were supposed to be friends, and friends shouldn’t have to hide from each other. 

Anyways, Peter always got home before him, so Harley didn’t hesitate to head straight to Peter’s room after a particularly rough shift with the intention of collapsing on his bed and complaining about the rich and entitled people that frequented the restaurant. 

“Parker, you better be fucking decent, because you are not going to believe- Pants!!! Pants!!!”

“Harley, what the fuck is wrong with you? Get out!”

Peter wasn’t wearing pants. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, but the pants seemed more important. 

Harley shut the door as soon as he realized, and stood out in the hallway for a minute, processing what had just happened. 

He has just seen his roommate in nothing but his underwear. There were what appeared to be pants around his ankles, but they were bright red. 

No, wait. There was too much fabric on the floor for those to just be pants. There was something else. Something he was missing. 

Peter had had another lump of fabric dangling from his hand. Fabric with eyes. 

A mask, Harley realized. He was holding a mask. 

Bright red, a mask, Peter’s mysterious second job he wouldn’t talk about-

Spider-Man. His roommate was Spider-Man. 

Harley was so goddamn tired. 

“Apartment meeting in the living room in ten minutes, and you better be wearing clothes!” Harley yelled, heading to his own room to change. He still smelled like the coffee a woman had spilled on him early on in his shift, and he was getting sick of it.

~~~

It took him almost no time at all to change. Really, all he had to do was strip the stuffy button up from over his undershirt and switch out his work pants for sweats and he was done. He wanted to claim the comfy chair in the living room before Peter got to it. Mostly because Spider-Man doesn’t deserve the comfy chair for being a liar. 

At least that’s what he was telling himself. 

Moments later, Peter joined him, sitting across from him on the couch. 

“I see you’re finally wearing pants,” Harley snarked. 

“You busted into my room, dude, deal with the consequences.”

“And you say that like you have the upper hand here, Spider-Man.”

To his satisfaction, Peter had the decency to look ashamed of himself. 

“Were you ever planning on telling me?”

“I mean, maybe eventually? It hasn’t exactly come up.”

“Is me asking what you do every night not enough of an excuse to tell me?”

Peter refused to make eye contact. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you to freak out. Plus, you knowing puts you in danger, and I can’t have that. Too many people already know, and I didn’t want you to get mixed up in this.”

Other people knew. Not only did Peter hide this from him, but other people knew. “Who?”

“What?”

“Who else knows?” Harley asked tiredly. 

“Tony, May, Ned, and MJ.”

“And now me.”

“And now you, yes. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“No, no, I think I understand.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Mad isn’t the word I would use, no. Disappointed maybe. Betrayed fits. Honestly, I think I would have preferred it if you were a stripper, but this is fine.”

“A stripper?”

“You being a stripper was more realistic than you being Spider-Man until I saw you with the suit around your ankles.”

“How?”

“You’re not dumb Peter, think about it from my perspective. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to come to terms with the fact that my roommate is Spider-Man and I have to throw out my whole presentation on why I’d be totally okay with you being a stripper.”

“You have a presentation?”

“Yeah, I was planning a whole intervention because I didn’t want you to be afraid to tell me things. Now I understand, but that was a lot of work, and I’m kind of sad I don’t get to give the presentation.”

“So don’t delete it! I’ll listen anyways, even if it’s not relevant anymore. Can I ask what your evidence was?”

Harley buried his head in his hands. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise I’m not. You just felt so strongly about it, and I’m curious why you thought I was a stripper.”

“A lot of people are ashamed of sex work, and you never told me what you did. Not to mention you took forever to get ready and you never let me see you, before or after. Plus your legs are killer, so it wasn’t a hard jump from secret job to stripping.”

“Have you been staring at my legs, Keener?”

“Don’t make me regret having this conversation. I’m actually over it now I think. Congratulations on your superpowers, please do your best not to die, and I’m leaving now. I’m also pretty sure the coffee that got thrown on me earlier got through to my skin, and I’m one elderly woman’s temper tantrum away from quitting, which I think I should have just taken that as an indication for how my whole night was going to go because this is a ridiculous conversation. Good night.”

“That sounds awful, but can we please go back to the thing about my legs?”

“Nope, can’t hear you, bye!”

Peter tried to say something else as Harley slammed his bedroom door behind him. He took a deep breath and whipped off his undershirt, checking it for coffee stains. 

There was one, small and right near the hem, so it wasn’t the end of the world. 

He tossed it in the laundry hamper and gathered his pajamas before moving to open the door. 

Then he paused. Peter was still outside. 

Unfortunately the need to shower was greater than the need to protect his dignity, so he sighed and opened it slowly. 

In the few minutes he was in his room, he expected Peter to walk away. 

Peter hadn’t walked away. 

“What?” Harley snapped. 

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you still standing here?”

“Because I’m interested in the fact that you’ve been looking at me,” Peter said slowly. 

Harley was suddenly very aware he was shirtless. “Do you expect me to not look at you? That seems impolite,” he stuttered. 

“But you’ve been looking,” he emphasized. “What else have you noticed, I wonder.”

“I don’t-”

“Hey, I’m not mad. Honestly, I’m flattered. Good looking guy like you checking me out? You’re really giving me an ego boost here.”

“Good looking?” Harley heard his voice rise in pitch, and considered just shutting himself back in his room until the embarrassment wore off. 

Peter just chuckled. “Don’t get modest on me now. Of course I think you’re good looking. You’ve got that Clark Kent thing going for you, you know?”

He let out a high pitched hum. 

“Come on, don’t tell me you don’t know. ‘Oh look at me, I’m Harley Keener, I’m built like I’ve been carrying hay bales my whole life, but I wear big dorky glasses and I call my mom every other day just to check in and make sure she’s okay’. You’re telling me you don’t do that intentionally?”

“What? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t know about your broad ass shoulders and adorable personality? Seriously?”

Finally, Harley recovered his senses. “And you get after me for noticing your legs? You’re a hypocrite if I’ve ever seen one, Parker.”

“I never said I blamed you. I’m just making an observation.”

“About my shoulders?”

“It’s about your general aesthetic really. It kind of screams sexy farmer. Do you think you could hold me on your shoulders, or-?”

“Oh for fucks sake, Peter,” Harley snapped, dropping the bundle of clothes he had in his arms and stalking towards the man. “Just shut up.”

He backed Peter into the wall. “Stop me if I’m wrong about this.”

“Trust me, you’re not.”

“God, you’re killing me here.” 

Knowing Peter, he would have said something like ‘I’m not god, just Peter,’ and Harley would have screamed. 

Fortunately, he couldn’t speak, because Harley was cupping his face in his hands and dragging him into a kiss. It was a little awkward at first, but that was okay. 

When they drew back again, Peter let out a hysterical giggle. “You smell like coffee.”

“Yeah, well someone got in the way of me showering.”

“Worth it,” Peter whispered, pulling him back down. 

“I really should shower though,” Harley said when they resurfaced. “It’s been a ridiculously long night, and my eyes are starting to hurt.”

“Alright, go shower and put on your dorky glasses. Should I wait for you in your room or mine?”

“Mine. If I look at your room, I’m going to remember how insane this situation is, and I don’t think I can deal with Spider-Man stuff tonight. But I really do want to keep doing this, so don’t think I’m trying to avoid you or anything.”

“Harley,” Peter laughed, pressing another feather-light kiss to his lips. “I know, I get it. I’ll see you in a minute.” 

Harley smiled, picking his clothes up off the floor and heading to the bathroom. 

“Hey, Harley?”

He paused with the door only half closed. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry you had to find out this way. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Maybe take up stripping. You’ve already got the legs for it, and I’d still technically be right, so it’s a win-win.”

Peter cackled, which made Harley grin. Knowing the last piece of Peter’s schedule made a lot of things click into place, but this was the best outcome he could have asked for. 

#ellis writes #parkner #harley keener #peter parker #harley keener x peter parker #fluff #fluff and humor #humor #and they were roommates #dylan laken tag

[icescrabblerjerky]

Tagging this for the goddamn submarine. It’s not fucking funny.

I don’t find it not-funny because I’m in favour of billionaires. I actually find it fucking TERRIFYING and AWFUL because I hate rich, entitled culture. It isn’t funny because it’s the direct result of ignorance and arrogance and the belief that people know better than the rest of society because they’ve accumulated wealth and haven’t had a sensible person around to slap them upside the head and tell them to fucking not.

It’s AWFUL and not just because lives were lost. It’s AWFUL and not just because those lives were valued more than lives that are lost every day to the ocean or to capitalism or to inequality or racism. It’s awful because this kind of stupidity, this kind of wilful ignorance in the face of actual danger, WILL FUCKING SPREAD unless those with privilege and money are made aware of what the consequences of their fucking actions are.

It’s a terrifying example of where this shit will go if the current system isn’t dismantled. Next time it won’t be a private submarine full of billionaires, it’ll be a fucking public school bus, and that’s why I don’t find it funny at fucking all.

#oceangate #this fucking thing #i haven't laughed once at it and I won't

[chillichats]

HIYA CHILLAY buckle up this is gonna be long ok basically. yesterday was election day. the 2 main presidential candidates are the son of a dictator and a woman who is Not the child of a dictator (lol ill explain more later)

the dictator implemented martial law back in the 70s and ruled for like 2 or 3 decades, stole BILLIONS worth of dollars and left our country in debt. in 1986 there was a peaceful revolution called EDSA People Power (u can google that) and then he was exiled to hawaii and then he died there i think. his son, whos running for pres now, had every opportunity to pay back all the debt but hasnt, paid people to attend his campaign rallies, and is rly just a bad person all around woohoo (also he didnt even go to college LL)

the other candidate is a human rights lawyer, and is also currently vice president. she's a critic of our incumbent president and early into her term she was removed from some cabinet positions solely cause she spoke up against him. even if she had limited funds and resources, the office of the vp was able to accomplish a LOT esp in the pandemic. soo yes

now the whole other thing is that our elections in general are a shitshow, son-of-a-dictator basically rigged the whole thing (like there are ballots prepared so that they enter as votes for him no matter what u put) AND. AND. 2000+ vote counting machines across the country have been sabotaged, or at any rate are not working, so there are ppl who lined up for literal hours to vote and then it turned out the machine was broken 💀 so mainly they were told to leave their ballots w staff to be entered as soon as the machines were fixed, obviously presenting a big chance to invalidate the ballots if a certain candidate isnt on it.

theres also video evidence of ppl being paid to vote for the son-of-the-dictator, and despite the evidence our comission of elections has done nOTHINGG to stop it also a lot of the people in comelec (comission of elections) are very close to son-of-a-dictator and/or are being bribed

ALSO son-of-a-dictator is alr acting like he won even tho the vote counting isnt done yet 💀

according to the official vote count son-of-a-dictator is leading by like. 10mil votes? which doesnt even make sense when u compare the number of votes from our previous elections to the ones now. also the 'official' vote count supposedly coming from comelec is actually from an unknown source, so most likely not real. people have volunteered to manually encode the ballots to make sure that the votes are fair.

and thats just the presidential elections; in our senatorial elections the candidate leading is a fOCKEN ACTOR with zERO political experience

its basically a shitshow circus and my only hope rn is the manual vote processing cause i highkey dont want son-of-a-dictator to win shahsfiew

also if u want to know more if ever u can search here on tumbl 'halalan2022' (thats filipino for elections2022) ppl have made a bunch of posts explaining it ahsufew

im. okay. holy fuck. thats. wh. okay. okay. wait a second. okay. holy fuck yes i think i will search up the halalan2022 tag this sounds infernal in the original sense of the word

#chillianswers #godDAMN i fucking hate rich entitled people #god #i hope a miracle happens this sounds. yeah

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

First, I just want to say that I love reading your rants/head cannons/opinions. I find them VERY entertaining and true. Now, I read your opinions on James, Sirius, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I want to know what you think of Draco and Neville. I honestly think that Draco is an asshole, but I want to know exactly what you think. P.S. Can't wait for the next chapter of "When Harry Met Tom"

Well, at the very least, I’m glad I’m entertaining.

Now for Draco and Neville, interesting choices actually, I don’t usually spend much thought on those two. Never the less, let’s dive in and see what we find.

Draco Malfoy

There’s a lot of varying opinion on Draco Malfoy. In my long tenure of stalking the internet, fanfiction, and even more fanfiction I’ve found that in many cases he ceases to actually be a character but instead becomes this unholy agglomeration of tropes people like.

Seriously, Draco Malfoy isn’t even a person anymore. He’s leather pants.

What’s interesting to me is that it’s not even always the same tropes. Well, you tend to see the same ones bandied about, but it’s not even like characters like Tom Riddle or Hermione Granger where I can usually narrow it down to a few very precise characterizations you see everywhere. Draco’s all over the place.

You have bad boy Draco who’s varying levels of actually being bad boy so that we can use him instead of a young Tom Riddle. This is generally in stories where an author wants an antihero or else villain love interest, they like the Draco or bad boy aesthetic, but Tom Riddle is too spicy for Yog Sothoth. So Draco reminds us he’s evil a lot, he usually betrays our main love interest in a dramatic yet inevitable moment, but he’s not the purest of evil. He leaves the puppy beside the well and watches as Tom drowns it for him. Despite this the story will often pretend that Draco’s the most evil of evil to raise the stakes.

You have non-problematic Draco who suddenly was never a Death Eater, or perhaps his family was always filled with spies for the Order of the Phoenix, who only pretended to hate muggleborns and really has been on the good side this whole time! Alternately, Draco was on the bad side, but within two seconds of the fic he’s switched sides and we’re told it’s cool now because Draco understands. 

You have Sexy McLeatherPantsFace Draco who never left My Immortal but authors will claim, should you ask, that bisexual overly emotional Draco’s characterization is nothing like My Immortal’s and how dare you imply such things you swine! Really, his pervasive existence is why My Immortal is such a great satire. 

The list goes on but basically Draco’s whatever people need or want him to be to an absurd degree and it always makes me laugh. Oh Draco, what have they done to you? Are you even in there anymore?

Right, where do I land on Draco? Honestly, he’s a bit like Ron in that he has severe character flaws but he’s not goddamn insane like Harry or Hermione.

Mostly though, I just don’t take him seriously.

Throughout the book series he’s an ass, he’s that rich, elitist, entitled jackass that we all have run into at some point or another. He’s the kid who legitimately thinks ‘my father will hear about this’ is a threat and constantly abuses his relationship with Severus Snape just to show how cool he is ‘he practically makes Snape dish out punishment to Harry and Ron needlessly, and Snape is such a sad ridiculous man he actually goes along with it and panders to this brat’. 

Draco’s the kind of ridiculous fucking person who pretended to not have the use of his arm for months just so he could get Hagrid fired. When, honestly, Lucius still could have gotten Hagrid fired probably without Draco’s very non-compelling evidence. (Now, that said, I do believe Hagrid never should have had the job/should have been fired, but that’s a different story). And then, when he realized not having an arm kind of sucked, he was miraculously healed. 

Harry takes Draco and his rivalry very seriously because he’s also an adolescent, lacks perspective, and just isn’t that bright but Draco is fucking ridiculous and half the time he’s embarrassing himself. I mean, the guy buys his position onto the Slytherin team with an absurd amount of money, and he still loses matches to the Gryffindor team. Draco should never be living that down.

So, basically, I never at any point take Draco seriously. He’s just a kid with a big mouth who grew up in a very racist household and never has any idea what he’s talking about ever. He’s not inherently evil, not particularly good either, he’s just a kid who’s more obnoxious than your usual brand of kid.

I never imagined him particularly good looking (I believe his features are described as pinched or something), I never really saw the appeal in either making him more evil than he was or else redeeming him, he’s kind of the comic relief we all needed in our lives but is really there to keep the filler plot going to give Harry and the gang time to stew on the bigger Hogwarts mysteries. Without Draco what would we even do for hundreds of pages?

When it comes to book six he starts getting a little interesting in that his life completely falls apart but I think many fics paint him as far more self aware than he was. He knows his family is in deep trouble but I don’t think he realizes they’re being punished. I don’t think he realizes that Tom setting up camp in Casa Malfoy is a direct response to a) his failure with the diary b) his failure with the prophecy. Well, he might, but I imagine Lucius or Naricssa had to point it out to him. More, I think he genuinely believes he is meant to succeed in the task of assassinating Dumbledore.

He never realizes that Voldemort fully expects him to fail, that this task is just to essentially torture Draco for months, and when Draco does fail Voldemort will then murder him in front of Lucius saying, “AND THAT’S WHY WE DON’T SELL TOM RIDDLE’S THINGS!” This I think is evident in Draco accepting Bellatrix’s help, but not Snape, legitimately thinking that he has to achieve this on his own and that the Dark Lord has given him this Very Important Task (TM). 

Basically, Draco’s a kid over his head and doesn’t even realize he’s in over his head. More, I think even in book seven he still believes in the dark lord’s cause. It’s all become this weird madhouse but we don’t ever really see him come to grips that this is madness. It’s hard to tell because we’re from Harry’s perspective, but Draco never really seems all that unwilling of a Death Eater. Instead he’s very proud to have become one and sure, Hogwarts got a little weird, but that’s okay! 

In other words, I don’t think Draco ever really had that redemption arc people thought he did or hoped he would. Harry just saves his life, Narcissa is forever grateful to Harry, and then Draco continues to shuffle along in life perhaps in a daze wondering what even happened.

TL;DR Draco’s just a guy.

Neville Longbottom

Oh man, poor Neville, why is he even friends with the gang when they treat him like such garbage all the time? Neville’s kind of like the friend who’s sort of friends with this one social group but they constantly forget him except when it’s convenient to them. 

Not just forget him but brush him off, make fun of him, and barely speak with him.

Neville has no friends and it’s really just sad that he’s stuck with these people. 

As for Neville himself, he seems nice, that’s really all I have on him. We don’t see too much of him, his life is garbage from beginning to end (his relatives throw him out a goddamn window), he’s treated like trash by everyone and no one respects him but he still seems nice.

Not particularly interesting, but a nice enough kid who doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit all the time. That said, I guess somebody’s got to be Gryffindor comic relief and plot convenience, so it’s time for Neville to forget the passwords yet again and be left out all night because portraits suck.

#ask #anon #harry potter #head canons #draco malfoy #neville longbottom

[jaywhitecotton]

I’m sorry to add to the numerous think pieces already exhausting every shred of attention being profited off Will Smith slapping Chris Rock, but please allow me – as a person who has had multiple people threaten me on stage (I’m very funny), let me cash in the last two cents in my pocket:

Chris Rock knew it was coming and was right to take the hit. He saw Will approach, tucked his hands behind his back and took it like a pro. You tell the joke, you take the hit. It’s that simple.

Now I’m not advocating for violence here at all. I know most of the comics on my timeline are posting a lot of the new fears they have about being attacked. Let me assure you – none of the nine people at the vegan/laundromat/dog park show are ever going to approach you off – much less on stage. You’re very bad at this and a disappointment to everyone who loves you. May god have mercy on your soul.

What Will Smith did was wrong. Stupid, selfish, fake, tired, entitled, all of that and more, but what if it’s something else all together? Something not many of the people currently turning a profession into a hobby is willing to openly address?

What if we take entertainment way too seriously and need to admit that, perhaps, using the industrialization of the arts as a meat grinder for the soul - is unhealthy?

What if turning a core foundation of the humanities into a numbers game fed off manipulating people on both sides of an advertising model – is bad for art and poison for the ego?

Did I lose you at the word "art"?

Look, I can spend hours discussing what is and what isn’t art, but that’s not going to do anyone any good here so I’ll just say that I personally believe art is the pursuit of combining craft, discipline and personal expression and I think we can all agree - very, very, very gay.

I also believe it can be entertainment, but calling something art shouldn’t be used to cover up for poorly executed craft. Saying something is art isn’t a shield or deflection of merit, especially if there are well-established objective truths defining its craft.

Standup Comedy is an art, but it’s a low art. Really easy to fake, incredibly difficult to master.

You go into a comedy show expecting that anything can be said. That’s why it’s exciting. You go to a horror movie unsure of what new fears will express themselves. That’s why it’s exciting. You listen to aggressive music, expressing rage and acts of violence. That’s why it’s exciting. You watch a man in a Speedo jump off the top rope to elbow drop another half nude man pretending to be passed out because it’s exciting and again - art is very gay.

We love to be excited and getting any opportunity to live out the horrors of life without the worry of certain death is one of the foundations of modern entertainment.

The beauty of the craft is all the work that goes in to making you feel like you crossed a line without actually crossing any lines. You go on a roller coaster afraid, but you know deep down you'll be completely safe. It’s the agreement everyone has to make when they enter the showroom.

If either side fucks up their part, they get bounced out. Fair and fine. Its not a relaxing past time. It’s mostly all growing pains.

Standup Comedy isn’t supposed to be comfortable. It was created by Jews dealing with a goddamn holocaust. Put the pillows away.

Comfort kills creativity and breeds complacency. It’s why rich creatives seldom make great art and second albums are mostly garbage filler produced in the name of content. The Smith family understands this very well.

Content for the sake of content is not art. It’s manufacturing. And it’s being pushed hard by an industry that has no value for artists, only in molding personal expression into a numbers game. The industry uses artists the way Uber uses drivers to make them money while actively investing in finding a way to replace them with unpaid AI.

The fact that most of their drivers are failing entertainers is not lost on me.

Again - if you hate that I’m using the word “artist” here that’s fine. If you think another discussion about this is stupid, I get it. No one said you had to consider yourself an artist, but pretending to be doing a business that asks you to mold your personal expression to their profit driven standards - while making you pay for the privilege - seems like a grift?

I really think Entertainers have become the marks, but in a new fashion. Before the industry always insisted you had to go through them to get your success and they fucked you. We accepted that.

Now they sell you on your “independence” by forcing you to buy your way towards “success” on their data collecting platforms.

How many of you think you're working for yourself when you're really working for Spotify, iTunes, Instagram, YouTube and so on? Sure you can simulate independence on any of these platforms, but try not paying your property taxes and tell me who really owns your home?

The industry used you to create an attention economy.

If you want to make “it” in entertainment, you have to keep your name generating attention. “Generate content, stay known, buy ads, someone is right behind you waiting to take what you thought was yours.”

Book deals are my favorite. For some reason the only way the average American reader will pick up a book is if some mentally ill celebrity needs to sell their exploits.

Will Smith just released his a few months ago.

Was the whole thing staged? Sorta. Was it truly spontaneous? Kinda? Possibly some dumb shit from the past about the movie Head of State and them racing to be the first fake black president in a movie or whatever.

I don’t think the reality or the pageantry of it even matters. I think the underlying lesson here is we need to care less about entertainment and enjoy it as a frivolous fun thing not to be taken real, even when they play it seriously.

(You know, the way pro wrestling used to be before the world flipped and everything became pro wrestling - except wrestling?)

Something Dave Chappelle said in an interview years ago really stuck with me. “What is this business doing to otherwise strong minded people?”

Dave specifically focused on black artists like Martin Lawrence and Mariah Carey, how their individual meltdowns happened so publicly. The general public immediately wrote these people off as weak. The man who amplified and blew up on Def Jam, arguably the toughest and most demanding of audiences – the man who commanded that stage and is “currently running half naked in traffic with a pistol” – is just “weak”?

Maybe pushing the public towards simulating celebrity while watering down the standards of art to allow everyone to feel like a professional something, is unhealthy? Like smoking before Reagan.

For all it’s current therapy speak, industry doesn’t actually care. There’s nothing in place to address the actual mental health of the people it’s openly draining of. Only quick fixes and enablers to keep these deteriorating spirits afloat until they’re sucked dry and no longer interesting or even human to us.

Did the industry step in to help Martin at any point he started showing signs of a nervous breakdown? No, they stayed in their seats.

“Never mind the broken man behind the curtain. He’s famous. He’s rich. Probably a kook, wandering the streets with a pistol like that. Probably a black thing. Now please watch this white savior movie we keep making because white guilt print’s paper. How is Martin doing these days? Is it time to profit off his redemption story yet?”

The industry is doing what all industries do. I’m not complaining about a dog behaving as a dog. I pursued standup just because. Never needed a reason or had much use for myth building. I just really love the challenge and think the idea of working one hour a night saying stupid shit is a brilliant scam and I love sleeping in.

Some of you hate hearing that. I’m sorry I’ve never been into hopes and dreams. I didn’t have your childhood. I’m not bitter. I’m annoyed. You have to believe in yourself to be bitter and I find projecting false confidence to be utterly annoying.

I just want to relate to the people around me.

Yet more and more I feel myself closer to a feeling of disgust with every attention seeking entertainer I come across and I just can’t shake it. A lot of you are just absolute nightmares if not outright hucksters and its getting harder the more you test how far you can play make believe with other people’s actual values.

You all lie so much trying to present yourselves as the leading voice for others, while doing and absolving most of the shit you purport to be “against”.

I’m not saying to stop, I’m just saying everything was way better when we were all IN on the scam, like proper villains – instead of what this thing has evolved into.

Car salesmen trying to sell their merch to other car salesmen.

The audience needs to be reminded who is entertaining them. Needy self-involved rich kids who can afford to appear like professionals - and the poor idiots in the trenches desperately trying to be seen as one of them.

At the time I heard that Chappelle interview, I was noticing so many of my friends move to New York and LA at the behest of the Industry – only to come back and visit as completely different people.

I mean empty shells, man. Just plaster with no walls or foundation. I’m positive most of you have noticed it too.

We don’t say anything to them, do we? Maybe a “You’ve changed!” followed by a sarcastic head shake.

I think we don’t sincerely approach this topic because we might be too nice and overly cautious. No one wants to sound too certain about anything because most of communication has become weaponized by an incredibly greedy attention seeking culture.

And even the people fighting against that are still succumbing to the trappings of self-importance. They consider themselves “on the front lines of the culture wars”, building an audience on the same media model they purport to rally against.

Morning Zoo Radio Hacks selling your values truly believe they’re free to say whatever they want with unyielding importunity. They genuinely believe they own their own business.

Again - Don’t pay your property taxes and see who really owns your home.

Its hard to even address this because we love supporting underdogs so much while believing we will also rise to the top. It’s how they found a way to sell us our own dreams.

The industry constantly pushes the rags to riches narrative, but if quarantine taught me anything - it showed me just how many rich kids and legacy acts have a stranglehold on all things media.

“You have to put in the work and really want it!” - a drug dealer

Maybe this is why the word “art” is so discouraged and heavily burdened with the accusation of pretension?

Maybe raising an entire generation on another generation’s nostalgia is turning the arts into something lesser?

Maybe this is why every movie is a reboot written by people drawing their work from other scenes from other movies, because their entire lives were so saturated in media – they forgot to experience real life themselves?

Or maybe we don’t want to seem like old people, the outdated “square” at the hip circle-jerk for thinking the Smith family is fucking weird and unsettling.

I’m sorry Will, but your whole family is weird and unsettling. I get bummed out every time your fevered egos try to hold us hostage.

I’m sure it’s not for me and you’d tell me to mind my own business, but goddamn do you seem to DEMAND it to be everyone’s fucking business all the time!

You made a talk show out of your personal sex life and marriage and now you demand people to keep your wife’s name out their mouths?

Bitch YOU.. maybe YOU need to keep your wife’s name outa YOUR mouth. No one owes you their fucking time so stop demanding it.

You.

I know way too much about your wife’s pussy from YOU, “Prince.”

And maybe that’s why Will had to step up and slap the funny joke man.

You see, you’re not just insulting the woman that lets him watch her fuck, you’re fucking up Will Smith’s money. His wife is an extension of HIS brand.

Everyone in the Smith household is a product. They all put their lives for sale one emancipated child at a time. All for the entertainment business. That’s not love, that’s a mental illness.

That’s entertainment.

Its ugly disguised as beautiful and breaks even the strongest of minds. Dave was right about this shit and no one wants to really address it because it means taking some responsibility.

Will Smith was a fucking smart, engineering rich kid who was plucked by Quincy Jones under the same model that tricked out Michael Jackson and many more. He had charisma for days and – from an obviously shitty industry point of view – could sell “black” to boring white people who wanted to feel good about themselves in the 90’s. He’s a true fucking talent and in many ways an underrated artist with an incredible body of entertaining distractions.

But so what?

I mean really – fuck Will Smith. Fuck actors. Fuck musicians. Fuck comics. It’s just fucking art. It’s frivolous even when it’s desperate to be seen as important.

Again – I’m sorry you’re whole family is fucking weird, I can’t shake how uncomfortable y’all make me. Fuck anyone for judging anyone, myself included, but those kids are weird and Jada is like some strange mix of Kanye West meets Eartha Kitt.

Do you realize ALL THE STUPID REAL SHIT ABOUT the Smith family Rock had to cross off in his head in that moment?!

Settling on a 1990’s Demi Moore flop was an act of comedic compassion. Chris Rock wasn’t surprised to be slapped, he was shocked because it wasn’t for the hundreds of things he chose not to say out of respect to THEM lol

Personally, I’m more pissed he went with GI Jane when Enemy Mine was RIGHT. FUCKING. THERE.

(composes self)

In the movie Independence Day, Will and an alien invader both crash to the ground after a vicious battle in the air. He climbs onto the craft to investigate and the moment he’s confronted with this horrific alien monster, he punches it in the face and yells “Welcome to Earth!”

That’s also the name of his new travel show for Disney Plus. An obvious grab for content creation bartering on Will’s charisma as he explores his business options in a broadening new medium.

I haven’t watched one episode, but I imagine the entire show is about regular people trying to de-celebrity Will back into a human being, instead of this Hollywood whore, pimping his family to the highest bidding media outlets.

My hats off to Chris Rock for taking the hit. He’s a pro and knows a new hour when he sees it. I can’t wait to see it. Probably gonna call it Taken’ the Hits. Bo Burnham will direct and it will be staged in the gymnasium of his old white High School.

It’s gonna be great business for Netflix, earn awards and everyone who clapped and supported Smith’s attack, will praise Rock’s resilience and artistry.

“HOW THE FUCK IS RICKY GERVAIS STILL ALIVE?!

HOWWWW THE FUUUUUCK IS RICKY GERVAIS….(STOMP) STILL (STOMP) A (STOMP) ….LIVE?

(softer, but more thoughtful) How is that man, Ricky, still alive, folks?

If you got a British accent you can say whatever the fuck you want to White America!

(Over exaggerated smile)

If… (insert recently disgraced celebrity) said that shit with an English, accent he’d be…”

(Five minute act out of Will Smith slapping Rock like an English butler, maybe dueling with the guns from MIB, I dunno, I’m too high to be writing this bullshit)

What I’m saying is Chris Rock is going to bounce back from this and certainly doesn’t need me defending him.

He needed that from the hundreds of millionaires pretending to be superheroes, who – for whatever reason – always seem to stay seated whenever real shit goes down.

They all sat in their soft chairs, half cheering undecidedly while the other half called their agents to get advice on which after party charity will benefit their career.

Who knows, maybe they’re all right? Pretending to care about things publicly pays a lot in an attention economy. Maybe alopecia needs a celebrity spokesperson?

And maybe that’s his redemption story.

Welcome to Earth, Rock.

[pay-with-your-kinks]

Bratty Kitty

Pairing: Badboy!Minho x Reader

Summary: Minho, the notorious ‘bad boy’ at your university. To be quite frank, you found him pathetic- the boy was nothing but a rich, undisciplined kid who’d never been punished for being a brat- something you so dearly wanted to change.

College AU, Badboy AU, Enemies to Lovers AU

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: smut, sub!Minho, dom!reader, pegging, spanking, BDSM, slight pet-play, brat-taming

----

You groaned, waking up to the annoying, loud tune playing from your phone. Murmuring incoherent words and rolling to the side of your bed, you grabbed your phone and hit the ‘snooze’ button, immediately dropping it back onto your bedside table and stuffing your face back into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Why the fuck did I sign up for morning classes,” You grumbled into your pillow, stifling a yawn

After two or so minutes of lying restlessly in bed, you realised you weren’t going to be able to fall back asleep with the sun beginning to rise, and, once again, you rolled over to the open side of your bed, shivering as you threw off the warm covers and stood up. You paused, breathing in and processing your surroundings before deciding you should probably get ready for the day.

“You’re up early,” your roommate commented from behind her bowl of cereal when she saw you come out of your room

“Morning classes,” You scrunched up your nose, and she nodded in understanding

“Breakfast?” She asked, pushing the box of cereal and carton of milk towards you

“Nah, no time,” You replied, grabbing your coat and walking out the door

The sun had risen far more quickly than your liking, and it blared in your eyes the second you stepped out the door. You squinted, blinking a couple of times and putting your hand against your forehead to shade your eyes.

“Oi, Y/N!” An- unfortunately- familiar voice called from behind you, and you turned around with your brow raised, being met with none other than Lee Minho

“The fuck do you want?” You sneered as he came closer to you “I have a class to get to,”

“Aw, don’t be so mean, baby girl,” He smiled condescendingly and leaned forward, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket

“Call me baby girl again and you’ll regret it,” You threatened, and, before Minho could even open his mouth to retaliate, you turned on your heel and started heading towards your class

“Coward,” He called after you, and your eye almost twitched at the smile you could hear in his voice

The class, as expected, went by far too slowly for your liking, but you were satisfied with the notes you’d taken, and since you’d just woken up, you weren’t as drowsy as you would’ve been had it been in the afternoon, and you left the building in a surprisingly happy mood; that is, until you saw Minho again.

You groaned loud enough for the boy to hear you even while he was a couple feet away.

“Class not go well?” He asked, smirking

“Stop talking to me,” You deadpanned

“You never even try to make conversation with me baby girl- what if I have something important to say?”

“Oh, I don’t care,” You shrugged, beginning to walk away, sighing internally when he followed you

“Look what I bought today,” He appeared beside you, reminding you somewhat of the Cheshire cat

Rolling your eyes, you looked over to Minho, and saw that, dangling from between his fingers was a black collar with a nametag spelling out ‘kitten’. You made an appreciative hum before looking at the boy’s neck.

“You’d look good in it,” You said nonchalantly, but Minho furrowed his brows

“What?” He exclaimed, going in front and walking along with you backward “No- I bought this for you,”

You stopped walking, pausing for a second and blinking once before bursting out laughing, leaving Minho frozen in confusion.

“You- you think I’m a sub?!” You said once you’d finally stopped laughing enough to talk “No, kitten, I’m not,”

Minho seemed to come back to life when you called him ‘kitten’, and for some reason, the name sent heat to his ears and cheeks, something that you didn’t fail to notice.

“Eh? You like being called kitten, kitten?”

“No!! Shutup!” He said, looking around to see if anyone was in hearing range, and he stuffed the collar back into his pocket “I’m not a sub,”

“I find that hard to believe, baby boy,” you smirked, relishing in Minho’s wide and flustered eyes

“Don’t call me that,” He took a threatening step towards you

“Oh? It looks like the bratty kitty is finally getting a taste of his own medicine,” You mused, and Minho gulped

There was a moment of you two staring into each other’s eyes, Minho staring into your amused ones and you staring into Minho’s aggravated.

“Your pupils are dilated,” You whispered, placing your hand on his chest sensually before harshly pushing him out of the way and continuing to walk

This time, Minho didn’t follow you, only watched in annoyance as you walked off, pissed at not only you but himself for getting so goddamn turned on at your words. He always knew that you weren’t a full out sub, but somehow hearing you say it out loud, and then you basically degrading him managed to actually fluster him, and Minho’s mind immediately went to thoughts that he found simultaneously disgusting and arousing.

----

You opened the door to your apartment, an aggravated sigh leaving your lips as you thought back to your encounter with Minho. You weren’t going to lie to yourself- Minho was damn attractive, but he was also one of the brattiest, most annoying people you’d ever encountered. Judging from the clothes he wore, along with the entitled attitude he carried around with him at all times, you guessed that he was just a spoiled rich kid who got away with anything.

“He’s so fucking annoying,” You muttered to yourself

“Talking to yourself?” Your roommate’s voice came from the other side of the room, and you whipped your head around “Lemme guess- Minho again?”

“He’s just so- god sometimes I just wanna strangle him and make him take back everything that’s come out of his pampered mouth,”

“Kinky,” Your roommate mused, and you glared at her

“It’s not kinky he’s just an annoying little shit,”

“That you would absolutely love to have underneath you while you punish him and-”

“I get it!” You groaned loudly, and your roommate burst out laughing “stop sticking your nose in my sex life,”

“It’s hard to ignore when I hear the whimpering and begging of everyone you bring home- you’d think you were torturing them in there,”

You sighed and plopped yourself on the couch.

“Wow you really do like him,” she grinned

“I hate him,” You leaned your head back your gaze up towards the ceiling “I hate him so much that I want to just-”

You stopped talking and started making angry strangling motions with your hands, causing your roommate to chuckle.

“Well I’ve pried enough today- gotta get to a class, then I’m going out. Seeya later,” she waved as she went to the door and left, and you gave a half-hearted, distracted wave in return

----

Minho scrunched his nose and ran his fingers through his hair before kicking a piece of rubbish in front of him.

“Someone looks frustrated,” an amused voice came from his side, and Minho turned around to be met with Chan “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” Minho turned his head away, speaking curtly

“Oohoh, is it Y/N?” Chan raised his eyebrow and leaned forward, looking at Minho with a mischievous grin

“No!” Minho sputtered a little too quickly “How do you know Y/N?!”

“Her and I are friends,” Chan shrugged

“You’re friends with Y/N?” Minho furrowed his brows “How come I’ve never heard of this? And how the hell did you guess it was her?!”

“I’ve told you multiple times but it's never gotten through your thick skull,” Chan laughed, and lifted his fingers, flicking Minho in the forehead, to which the boy winced in return “And I guessed it was her because I know how much you pine after her,”

“It’s not pining,” Minho growled

Chan looked at him as if to say ‘are you sure about that?’

“It’s not!” Minho persisted “I just think she has a certain...allure about her that’s very...”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Chan leaned in and stage whispered in Minho’s ear “it’s cause she has dom energy and you’re a sub,”

“I’m not a sub!” Minho pushed Chan away, shooting a glare at the boy, and Chan laughed

“Calm down; you’re just proving me right,” Chan continued, and Minho’s ears grew red “You know, if you were willing to submit to her I’d bet she’d be willing to fuck you-”

“What, you speak from personal experience I suppose?” Minho shot

“You’ll never know,” Chan winked at Minho, and the Minho’s eyes widened

“What?!” He wacked Chan on the shoulder

“I’m kidding!” Chan continued laughing, and Minho scrunched his nose “But you might wanna think about what I said,”

“No way am I gonna do that,”

“Doubtful,” Chan shrugged “nice collar, by the way,”

Minho followed his friend’s gaze down to his pocket, which had the tip of a collar obviously meant for BDSM dangling from it. Surprised and flustered, Minho stuffed the collar deeper into his pocket and glared at Chan, who did nothing but continue laughing.

----

The air all around you was stuffy and claustrophobic, a wretched smell of cheap alcohol filling your nose, sweaty people all around you drunkenly dancing and singing horribly to whatever god forsaken song was blasting throughout the area. Somehow your roommate had managed to drag you off to a club late at night, claiming that she and all her friends were having a ‘girl’s night’, and that you should come to get your mind off of Minho. At first you thought it was a good idea- she was right, you did want a distraction from the boy- but once you’d actually arrived you began to deeply regret your choice.

“Group of hotties at four o’ clock,” You heard a shout from one of your roommate’s friends- whose name had slipped your mind

Absent-mindedly following the heads of everyone else in your small group, you looked over to a group of maybe nine boys, all around your age. You had no idea how anyone could see if they were ‘hot’- the flashing lights and overall dark and crowded environment made it impossible to discern one feature from the next. Before you could protest or escape, you were being pulled towards the other group.

“Hey there,” A confident, almost snide voice came from your side, and you rolled your eyes, turning to the boy who’d evidently come from the group you’d just been forced to approach

“Hey,” You replied in a bored voice

“You seem familiar,” it came again, and you felt hands rest on your hips, causing your eyes to twitch

“Yeah, so do you,” You kept your tone indifferent, but made no move to pull away

You weren’t lying- you could’ve sworn you’d heard the voice before, and the boy had an overall sense of familiarity to him. You told yourself you were just imagining it- with all the noise going on in the background, your mind could be making anything up.

“Why so cold?” He pulled your closer to him, and you cocked your head

“I don’t like cocky brats,” You deadpanned, and the boy seemed to pause

“You really do seem familiar,” he muttered, and you breathed out a humourless laugh

You were about to pull away, but you remembered why you agreed to come out at all tonight. You needed a distraction from a particular someone, and you’d take just about anyone for it.

Smirking and wrapping your arms around the stranger in return you moved closer to him, your hand lowering to squeeze his ass shortly, and you swear you heard a gasp from him, though it was hard to tell what was what.

“Hey-” he started, but was interrupted when you began to grind against him, and his breath hitched

“How about we get out of here, kitten?” You asked, sweetness dripping from your voice, and you saw that the whites of the boys’ eyes had widened

“Wait- Y/N?!” he yelled, pushing you off of him

You blinked, furrowing your brows before finally looking properly at the boy. A bright light flashed across the entire club for a split second, revealing a flustered Minho. Your lips parted slightly, the clear view of the boy gone as quickly as it had come- but it left the knowledge that you’d just made a move on the exact person you were trying to avoid.

“Oh come on!” You shouted, tossing your hands up “This is the exact opposite reason why I came out tonight! I’m leaving,”

Minho watched in stunned silence as you pushed your way through the crowd, jumping slightly as he felt someone elbow him, and he turned around to be met with Hyunjin.

“Isn’t that the girl you’ve been pining after?” He asked, nodding towards you

“I’m not pining!” Minho complained, almost stamping his foot, but deciding that that would only make him seem even more childish “Did Chan tell you that?!”

“No, I can just tell,” Hyunjin shrugged, and Minho glared “Why not go after her?”

Minho thought for a while before the condescending smile that he so often wore found itself back on his face, and without saying a goodbye to his friend, he started after you.

You silently continued making your way to the exit of the club, not looking back, but you were sure that Minho was following you. The moment you’d gotten out of the building into the crisp night air, your prediction was proven right, and Minho came out right after you, the stupid smile that you wanted to wipe off of him so much glued to his face.

“Fuck off, Minho,” You waved a dismissive hand at him, but he ignored your words and strode up to you, putting his arm around your shoulder

“Why not just talk a bit with me, baby?” He cooed, and you rolled your eyes

“Why not just go be a good kitty and-” You paused, cutting yourself off as a metallic glint caught your eye from Minho’s pocket “Is that the same collar as before?”

Minho looked down and saw the collar he’d shown you earlier that day dangling from his pocket- yet again. Cursing, he stuffed it back in, and you chuckled.

“You’d think you wanted to wear it- keeping it with you for so long,” You smirked, and his ears grew red

“I told you that I’m not a sub!” He hissed, and you laughed

“But you’d look so pretty in it,” You continued, speaking in a voice that suggested you were talking to a pet, and, regretfully, Minho gulped

“Baby girl,” Minho said in the most confident and steady voice he could muster “I-“

“You may as well stop calling me that, baby boy,” You interrupted him, and, even to his own surprise, he stopped talking “I wonder…what’s the worst punishment you’ve ever gotten?”

“The worst punishment?” Minho repeated in confusion, looking at you quickly before considering the question “I- I dunno,”

“Hah. So the spoiled brat really is just a pampered rich kid,”

“I’m not a brat,” Minho scowled and you laughed, only succeeding in making the boy even madder

Slowly, you stopped walking and turned to Minho. He followed suit, turning to you as well, regarding you with anger as well as caution. Wordlessly, you reached down and grabbed the collar from him pocket, holding it up as if to see how it would look on Minho.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He slapped your hand down once he’d processed what was happening, and you smiled softly

“If only you’d wear this,” You tutted “You’d look so good in it baby,”

Once again, just as you expected, Minho froze up, and although the lighting on the street was dim, you could tell how red his face was. You brought your hands up to his neck and slowly wrapped the collar around it, doing it up just barely too tight. Without speaking, Minho brought his hands up and gently touched it, his eyes staring into yours.

“You can be good,” you marvelled, which seemed to snap Minho out of his trance

He hastily looked around the street, seeming relieved when he saw that no one was in sight, and the gripped the collar around his neck more harshly.

“Take it off,” He ordered, growling

“You can take it off yourself just fine,” You smiled, and Minho faltered “Or is it that you don’t actually want it to be off?”

Minho didn’t reply, only glared as you smirked.

“Come on,” You said, and he looked at you questioningly “You’re coming to my place,”

“Wh- like hell I am!” he yelled, and you heard a bird squawk in return

“Guess I should just leave you like this, then,” You smiled, glancing down to the bulge in Minho’s pants, then back at the red-faced boy

“Wait I-…”

He let his words trail off, and then, instead of saying anything more, he grabbed the sleeve of your shirt softly, his head hung low. Your lips parted slightly and your heartbeat quickened- who knew he could be so goddamn cute.

The trip back to your place was uneventful except for when you got out the pair of flats you’d brought with you, put them on, and made Minho hold your heels for the rest of the walk back.

Finally, the pair of you had made it back to your apartment. You let Minho step inside before shutting the door behind him and abruptly pushing him back and shoving him onto the couch, causing him to yelp before looking back up to you with his completely red ears and cheeks.

“You’re being more obedient than I thought you would,” You mused, going to straddle the boy, putting your finger under his chin and making him look up at you

Minho furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, quickly turning his head so your fingers slipped from his chin. You laughed before harshly grabbing his chin, gripping it tightly and, once again, making him face you.

“You may as well stop trying to pretend like you’re not going to submit to me tonight,” You whispered

“I’m not going to,” he squinted at you, scrunching up his nose when you laughed again

“You’re wearing a collar, little kitty,” you mused, bringing your hand up to tug on the collar wrapped around his neck “You’re basically mine already,”

He opened his mouth the shoot back, but you stuck you thumb in and pressed it down on his tongue. Minho shook his head, trying to shake away your hold on him, but you forced him to keep still. He continued resisting, only stopping when you leaned forward, took your hand away and pressed your lips onto his. He gulped, pausing before kissing you back in a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Finally something that shuts you up,” You muttered against him before standing up “Why don’t you take off your clothes for me, kitty?”

His eyes widened at the sudden request before he turned away once again

“You’ll have to tear my clothes off bare-hand before I-”

“Oh, is that what you want?” You smiled, and the red on Minho’s cheeks deepened

Scowling he leaned forward and pulled off his shirt, throwing it aggressively at you, and you caught it, chuckling as you dropped it onto the ground. Minho began to unbuckle his belt, but quickly found himself getting nervous. He began going slower, his moves getting more hesitant and his face hotter, feeling your watchful gaze as he undid his pants and started pulling them down. He stopped, looking up to you with uncertain eyes.

“What’s wrong, kitty?” You walked up to him again and leaned down, grabbing the top of his pants “Getting nervous?”

“N-no!” He said before finally pulling his pants down and kicking them off his legs. You breathed out a laugh and began rubbing his completely hard cock through his underwear, causing him to moan

You began to straddle him once again, watching as his pre-cum made the thin layer of fabric practically see-through.

“You wanted me to fuck you, baby?” You whispered

“Please…”

“Say ‘please, mommy’,” You smiled, and Minho’s eyes widened, pausing in sudden shock before speaking again

“You’re delusional!”

“You’re the one who’s delusional if you think being a brat will get you any closer to cumming, kitty,” You said, beginning to get off of him, but Minho grabbed your arms, pulling you back down onto him, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your bodies so close together that he could grind his dick on you, and that’s what he did

“Please mommy,” He whimpered, moaning quietly as he began grinding faster

You bit your lip, feeling yourself get wetter at his little moans. Composing yourself, you spoke again.

“Wasn’t so hard, right baby?” You asked, wiggling out of his grip and taking off your shirt quickly and then, more teasingly, undoing your bra and tossing it aside

Minho’s breathing seemed to stop when he looked at you properly, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes drift to your breasts. You got off of the boy, and this time, he let you.

Grabbing his hand, you began leading him down a hall to your bedroom, and he wordlessly followed. You shut your bedroom door behind the pair of you and before doing anything else, you opened your closet and pulled out a strap-on and lube (which you somehow managed to not let Minho see as you tossed it aside) and a cat head-band. Minho hardly protested when you walked back up to him and placed the headband on his head, and he completely stopped resisting when you whispered how pretty he looked.

Slowly, you brought him next to your bed and got down on your knees, pulling down his underwear. Minho’s breath hitched as his cock sprung out and slapped against his abdomen.

“Mommy- ah-” he moaned as you wrapped your hand around him and slowly began pumping, spreading his pre-cum around and gradually beginning to get faster as it became easier to move up and down

“You ever been fucked, kitty?” You asked, licking the tip of his dick

“Wh- I’m not a virgin!”

“I meant…” you let your words trail off before slithering your hand behind him and brushing your finger over his hole

“Fu-” Minho moaned, and you felt his cock twitch “I- no…”

“Do you want to?”

“I…” He looked down at you, and you could tell he almost let a ‘yes’ slip past his lips before he seemed to jolt back “no! Like I’d ever let you-”

“Stop being such a brat,” you scolded harshly, taking your hands off him, causing Minho to whine at the sudden loss of contact “Tell me what you want or you won’t be getting it. It’s simple,”

The boy huffed cutely, blowing the hair that had covered his face out of the way. You almost smiled before you sat on the bed- almost.

“Come here,” You ordered, and Minho squinted his eyes at you, scooting towards your carefully

“What are you gonna do?”

“Discipline,” You answered simply, and Minho’s breath hitched “Come on kitty, be a good boy won’t you?”

It was almost an automatic response when Minho walked to you, letting your grab him and drape him over your lap. He whined as his cock met the fabric covering your legs, and subtly, the boy began grinding on you.

“Comfortable?” You asked sweetly, and Minho nodded

You sneered before spanking him harshly, causing him to jolt forward and moan.

“Fuck- again,” He whined, wiggling his ass in front of you

You cocked your head, surprised at his reaction, and somewhat annoyed at how much he seemed to be enjoying himself. Aiming a bit lower this time, you brought your hand back down and spanked him on the upper thigh.

“Mmm mommy that hurt- fuck-!” Minho started to speak, but cut himself off with a moan when you landed another harsh spank on his ass

You continued spanking him until his ass was red and hot, and the wetness that was Minho’s pre-cum on your clothes rubbing onto your thigh started to get border-line uncomfortable. You placed your hand softly on him again and began to knead Minho’s cheeks, smiling at the whimpers you got out of him.

“Does it feel good, kitty?” You murmured, purposely brushing a finger over his hole, and he subconsciously pushed his ass backward onto it

“Yes…” He whimpered, shaking as you continued running a single finger over the same spot

“Do you want mommy to fuck you?”

“Yes…please…” he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut

“Say it louder for me, baby boy,” you teased

“Please fuck me mommy!” He said loudly “Wanna have my tight hole stretched by you, mommy,”

Your lips parted in shock before you chuckled

“Someone knows how to beg,” You mused, pushing Minho off of you and onto the bed

“Doms know what doms want to hear,” he stated, almost matter-of-factly

“It’d do you a favour to stop calling yourself a dom,” You put your fingers under his chin before leaning forward and kissing him sweetly “You’re mommy’s pretty little kitty, aren’t you?”

“Hah…yes…” He looked up to you, seeming to get drunk off the unexpected love in the kiss

You breathed out a laugh before getting off the bed and slowly taking off your pants and underwear. Minho watched intently, leaning forward and licking his lips at the sight. You smiled before going to where you’d put the strap-on and lube and picked them up, brandishing them to Minho, who didn’t seem to care where they came from- only where they were going.

“Get on all fours like a good kitty,” you cooed, and Minho immediately complied, unable to stop his hairs from standing on end from the anticipation

There was a moments pause, and Minho fought the urge to look back at you, but just as his resolve was up and he was about to look back, he felt a cold, lubed finger against his hole, and he whined, pushing his ass backwards against you yet again. You slowly shook your head before climbing on the bed behind him, spreading the lube around his hole before sticking your digit in, and, surprisingly, it slid in fairly easily.

“You’re pretty stretched already aren’t you, baby? Are you sure your pretty hole hasn’t been fucked before?”

“…I finger myself,” He said, and you laughed at the pout you could hear in his voice

Without talking more, you took your finger out and squirted out the lube again onto your next finger, rubbing the two together to get them evenly coated before sticking it back into Minho’s hole. You began to quickly move your fingers in and out, and Minho began moaning, shamelessly letting out his noises.

“I want mommy’s cock,” He moaned, dropping his face into the covers and leaving his ass up in the air, wiggling it around a bit

You rolled your eyes and took out your fingers, putting on the strap on and lubing it up generously before, as slowly as you could, lining yourself up with the boy. You were about to push in, but Minho pushed back, inserting the tip in himself, and he let out a quiet but open-mouthed moan. You quickly reacted with a harsh slap to his ass, and he whined.

“Please hurry mommy…” He whimpered, and he said it so cutely that you couldn’t even think about rejecting him

You began pushing further in, feeling Minho tense around you, and you could tell his eyes were screwed shut with pain.

“Just relax for me, okay kitty?” you soothed, caressing the boy’s thighs

“Mmm,” He whimpered, but you couldn’t tell if it was from pain or pleasure

Once you had the entire dildo in his hole, you stayed still for a while, softly caressing his thighs until he began to get fidgety, pushing back against you and shifting positions ever so slightly, as if hoping you wouldn’t notice.

Without warning, you began moving in and out, slowly at first, and Minho moaned, biting his lip and tightly scrunching the bed cover between his fingers. It wasn’t long before you could start going faster, and you did.

“M-mommy p-lease- please- ah!” He whimpered, eyes screwed shut

“What is it, kitty?”

“Please touch ah- fuck- p-please touch m-my cock-“

You leaned forward and wrapped your hand around the boy’s already slick dick,  immediately beginning to vigorously jerk him in time with your thrusts. Minho let his face fall into the covers, quickly feeling the spot where his mouth was getting wet from the drool coming out of his mouth. He tried to bite down on the covers, but it didn’t last for long, and he quickly let go, opening his mouth to let out his moans, dribbling out occasional words saying how good it felt.

“P-please- cum- please let me c-cum,” he wailed pushing his hips and moving around sporadically

“Go on kitty, cum for mommy,” you cooed

A couple seconds later, after feeling Minho’s cock twitch rapidly in your hand, he came, hot white ropes of cum spurting onto the sheets and across his torso. You pulled out and Minho fell down, whining at the feeling of the bed-sheets against his sensitive dick.

“You look so pretty, baby,” You whispered, taking off the strap and quickly re-joining Minho, running your hands through his hair

Minho turned around, lying on his back and looking up at you.

“What about you?” He asked sweetly, pouting

“That’s true,” You chuckled, suddenly being reminded of the wet heat between your legs “You don’t have to though,”

“No!” he scrambled to sit up and grabbed your hands “I wanna! Please let me make mommy cum…”

You smiled before letting go of his hands and cupping his face in your hands, bringing him forwards into a kiss before letting go, moving to lean your back up against the bed frame and spreading your legs, bringing your own hand down and stroking along your slit, making sure to show the boy the thick strings of pre-cum that showed each time you lifted your finger up. Minho gulped and looked to you, his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth.

“Come on, kitty,” You smiled, and Minho immediately went down, licking a long stripe against you, going to the top and licking your clit multiple times before attaching his lips to it

You moaned and laced your fingers in his hair, gripping tightly, but Minho barely seemed to notice. He brought his fingers forward and inserted two of them, beginning to rapidly move them in and out straight away.

“Mm- fuck kitty- ah- that’s a good boy,” You moaned, tugging at his hair and grinding against his face

“Mommy tastes so good,” He gulped breathlessly, keeping his lips against your pussy as he said it, letting you feel the vibrations of his voice

Minho continued eating you out, seeming to get more enthusiastic each time you praised him and pulled at his hair more harshly. It was only a couple minutes before you came, and Minho kept going, making sure to lick up all the juices before finally pulling away.

“Shit, kitty,” You breathed heavily, biting your lip as Minho moved level with you and captured your lips in a soft kiss, unintentionally letting you taste yourself

You wrapped your arms around the boy’s waist and brought him closer before smiling.

“Guess all that pretending you’re a dom bit you in the ass, huh?” You chuckled, grabbing Minho’s butt shortly, causing him to jolt, and then pout at you

“You’re mean…” He muttered

“Let’s go take a shower, yeah? You’re not too sore?” You whispered, and you felt the boy nod against you before shifting positions to get up

The night ended with a hot shower, a fresh change of bed-sheets, a couple surprisingly loving kisses, a bit of pillow talk and lots and lots of cuddling.

#minho #lee minho #stray kids #skz #stray kids minho #skz minho #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz smut #skz scenarios #minho imagines #minho smut #minho scenarios #lee minho imagines #lee minho smut #lee minho scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know smut #lee know scenarios

[johnseedfanclub]

Wip Day~

Tagged by @oorah22

{This is total fucking shit but it’s whatever lmaoooo}

A month or two had gone by. Angel was driving his way towards the Henbane to get to Hope County Jail. The drive was quite long, but he did appreciate the view on the way there. God, how could you ever get tired of this place.

“You know that guy I talked to you about Miss?” Angel decided to break the silence

“Yeas?” Missy replied

“I haven’t seen him in a while... I don’t know if I should be worried...I mean something just doesn’t seem..right y’know?” though Angel couldn’t stand the self entitled man...John...he couldn’t help but realize that John was coming around less until recently. He hadn’t seen him in over three weeks.

“Well maybe it’s good you haven’t seen him” Missy offered “I mean based on what I remember, seems like he’s nun’ but trouble for you” Missy let out a hearty laugh “Wouldn’t be surprised if ya chased him off!”

Angel chuckled “Maybe, he probably got tired of my shit! Ha!” despite his reply Angel still had an off feeling about the disappearance. “Hmm...you think those people took him?”

“Eden’s Gae-t? I mean.. it’s probable. A lot of disappearances have been connected to them” Missy thought for a minute “Wouldn’t be shocked if he was taken”

“Yeah...”

———————————

The two finally arrived to the jail a few minutes after. Missy first stepped out of the car and Angel followed after, heading towards the jail.

“Thought it be much bigger than this...no wonder those Eden’s people runnin’ fucking wild.” Angel muttered to himself

“Come on, Angel! Make haste. I just wanna get this done an’ over with.” Missy called back

“Alright! Alright!...Jesus...” Angel hated to be rushed but he doesn’t blame Missy. Nothing sounds worse then getting called in for a man who thinks he’s a some god. Fucking Christ...

Angel stepped into the jail and looked around “huh...quite home-y for a jail.” Angel had no idea where to go since no one was there, and Missy went ahead of him, so he wandered through the halls.

“Hey! You there! What are you doing?!” A voice called out.

Ooooh shit...

Angel quickly turned “O-oh-! My bad! I apologize. Do you kno-“

A taller woman approached him, not quite happy to see him “You’re not supposed to be here. Who let you in? The jail’s closed.”

“Jesus Christ it’s been less than a fuckin’ minute since you saw me” Angel answered back in an annoyed tone “and now I’m being interrogated. If it’s that important I’m a fuckin’ cop.”

“I don’t see a badge?” the woman sounded suspicious

“Are you- MISSY! HELP! I’M BEING HATE CRIMED.” Angel yelled.

“For fucks sake I asked what you’re here for! What fucking cop-“

“What is going on here?” another man came in, more concerned about the yelling than seeing Angel

“Literally go pick on someone your own size- Oh. Wait a minute he’s cute- What’s your name hun?” Angel cooed at the other man

“Staci...uhm...” Staci stopped for a second and leaned in towards the woman “Joey who the fuck is this?” he quickly whispered

“I dunno but he sounds like another asshole to me” Hudson replied

“Another WHAT?”

“ANGEL!” Missy’s voice boomed “What did I TELL YOU about keeping up?!” She grit through her teeth

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I-“ Angel tried to protest before being cut off

“ANYWAYS. I’m so sorry if he caused ya’ll any trouble.” Missy said apologetically “This is Angel, one of the other deputies that transferred from our station back in the city.”

“Really..?” Hudson questioned “I’m sorry Missy but doesn’t he seem...unfit? He’s quite....shorter than the rest of our-“

“It’s been less than ten minutes and I don’t like this bitch-“ Angel blurted out

“Angel-“ Missy sighed “He’s never like this he’s very friendly and a hard worker. And though he is shorter-“

“I ain’t short.” Angel interrupted

“Than the rest of our units HE his very skilled and professional, even in the most dire situations” Missy finished, giving Angel a reproachful look.

“Damn straight.” Angel said with Pride “I been trained like a soldier ever since I was younger”

“How old are you now?” Hudson remarked

“‘Scuse me?” Angel was about ready to pounce

“Joey please- Sorry about that she tends to not be careful with her words” Staci laughed nervously

“Yeah she better be careful because a nine millameter sounds nice right about now-“ Angel suggested

“YOU TWO-“ Missy nearly yelled but still kept her composure “Just- go to Whitehorse....he’ll tell ya’ll about the plan.” Missy snuck a quick glance at Angel before walking off. Shortly after the three headed to Whitehorse’s office.

“What plan now?” Angel asked

“You should know but I guess you were busy wandering the halls” Hudson spat in reply

“What the FUCK is with the locals here-“ Angel said aloud

“Hudson...” Staci looked at her “We’re planning to go to one of Eden’s Churches to arrest Joseph Seed”

Joseph Seed....Seed...Something about that name felt familiar...he couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he had a feeling it might have to do with that richy rich guy John he met a few months back...maybe- no...he can’t be connected right? If he was that would mean he could’ve gotten himself killed too easily right? Right?...

“We’re gonna detain him then fly him back to Missoula and hopefully it’ll be the end of that” Staci said.

“Yeah, Hopefully.” Hudson agreed

“Why you say that?” Angel tilted his head slightly

Hudson sighed “..where do I start. I mean awhile back this church, now a fucking cult, was peaceful and they actually seemed like a friendly group of people. They helped out the community, held small barbecues and events, and even helped out the less fortunate”

“Okay and...?” Angel drawled

Hudson continued “And all of a sudden they changed. They started saying this...Collapse...something about the world ending was coming or something and-“

“They went fucking nuts.” Staci finished “They started pulling people out of the road, their homes, some would even be ambushed while taking hikes and shit. Many wouldn’t make it back but those who did said that the cult was using some drug called the Bliss to turn them into the walking dead. If not, they would manipulate you into joining their fucking project.”

“Manipulate as in what? Some hypnotic shit?” They both nodded and Angel’s eyes widened “You’re fucking kidding? I thought they were just some weird ‘drink the Kool-Aid’ type of group.”

“Absolutely fucking not” Hudson barked “these fuckers torture you if you don’t listen to them or help out with their weird religious cause. Then they kill you if they find no use of you.” Hudson shaked her head “I pray for those poor folks who got tied up with Eden’s Gate...”

“Oh fuck no- Why the fuck I gotta put up with this shit?” Angel said in

“Cause all of our other deputies been taken by them.” Staci said nervously

“Staci!” Hudson spat at him

Angel stopped between them and looked at Hudson, then at Staci, then looked forward, and back Hudson.

“YOU’RE FUCKING KIDDING?” Angel yelled “WHY DID YOU CALL MORE THEN IF WE GON BE KIDNAPPED?!”

“Staci? Joey? Who’s out there?”

“Just a visitor!~” Angel starts to walk back “Ya’ll fucking funny if you think something was gonna happen. I got PTSD I shouldn’t even BE here.”

Hudson grabs his arm, pulling him into Whitehorse’s office “You are our last like of hope. You are NOT leaving.”

“Swear to god my life’s a goddamn movie” Angel said under his breath “Get off of me” Angel protested as he shook Hudson off his arm “I better get payed good for this shit”

Tagging: @oorah22 @mrspaigeomega @muse-1498 @ohfaiths @scungilliwoman @johnseedyesking @ anyone who wants to join in <3 (no pressure to those tagged its totally optional!)

#I looked it over and I hate it lol #oc: angel sanchez #far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry #jacob seed #john seed #joseph seed #far cry deputy #deputy oc #farcry 5 #far cry fanfiction #far cry 5 oc #far cry fandom #far cry oc #farcry oc #farcry oc headcanons

[sn0tcl0wn]

i think the worst part is that i sympathized with the fucker for a while there because i knew plenty of really good and truly decent people just like him in both the rich parents way and criminal way and i know plenty of rich people who'd never tolerate and enable their kids doing the shit he did like his dad does. and admittedly he did experience real abuse and trauma that fucked him up. but i am poor as shit and traumatized to a point where my personality in and of itself is a disorder. im disabled and neurodivergent and struggle to make ends meet. i've spent my ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE in poverty and a constant state of unresolved and compounding truama. and even after all the shoplifting and stealing i did as a kid and in my teens, even the most petty of thefts, i would never threaten the life of another person to do so and i would ESPECIALLY never do that shit if i had access to money and resources. the whole fucking reason i and people like me in various situations over the years is because we cannot afford anything at all whatsoever. and usually when people who arent complete pieces of shit steal it's not from your local mom and pop pizza place at fucking knifepoint and even if it was most of us would usually immediately use some of that cash to pay off the other poor people we borrowed from. and decent people who steal dont generally steal from people who are worse off than them because they have empathy for those people. like steal all you want but the second you're just stealing to fucking steal shit and threatening violence when you're well off and have never experienced being anything lower than upper middle class only to get away with it when you get caught solely because your daddy could buy people's silence is real scum of the earth type shit. and to try and get pity because boo hoo you're so lonely? jesus fucking christ. will these people ever get a grip? like i know they won't but i think it's just so telling how little empathy the upper class has when they're as eager as they are to scumbag, threaten, and manipulate poor folk. and it also shows how quick to accept and empathize with people lower class folks are because at the end of the day i and everyone who let this asshole in was a poor person who's immediate thought was "yeah i been on hard times too. let me help you out, homie. we take care of each other here". like that's so fucking telling and these are all things i knew and already experienced with other entitled rich fucks but every time this shit happens it enrages me to no end and i want to shriek.

and the worst part isn't that he essentially stalked and pressured me into a relationship or pressured me to give him money because he knew i was willing to help or straight up stole from me or stole from other people or threatened a nice woman who wouldn't take his shit and got away with ALL OF IT. it's how quick my family members and other bougie and upper class people were/are to take his side solely because he's attractive with a rich dad. like my family pressured me to date him putting me on the spot urging us to get together, letting him in our home when i explicitly stated he wasnt invited, and going as far as saying they wouldnt mind us having a future together and he took full fucking advantage of that situation to steal from me and try to hurt me. and the thing that pushed them into hating him? he got arrested in front of their nice suburban home and made them feel judged by the neighborhood. and of course i was to blame and was grilled about whether or not i was involved. because yeah i would totally jepordize my bright future with a dumb bullshit idea to steal from a woman who knew us by fucking name.

i'm poor and from the "wrong side of the tracks" so i get treated like shit by my own materialistic ass family every goddamn day let alone the world as a whole. meanwhile this actual piece of human garbage can get away with that shit and not only can he proceed to continue his shit excuse of a musical career but he can also be protected from public shaming for his actions (because he deserves that at the very fucking least) and proceed to keep manipulating people who are just trying to be nice and helpful because they experience basic human emotions like caring about other people and not wanting to see one's friends go without.

#vent

[chokopoppo]

Your rants about bartimaeus awakened long dormant memories from 5-7 years ago, and I don't remember why. I don't remember what caused it. I don't even remember what he did. But you have sparked and kindled my hate for Nathaniel again. That's the clearest thing I remember from that series! Just the feeling of hate. Oh, that, and a lions mane really isn't worth it.

THE SAVAGERY!!!!!! It’s okay, he deserves it. Debatably lmao.

IF YOU WERE CURIOUS or if anyone else in the peanut gallery is, a brief rundown on the Nathaniel Discourse: Nathaniel (our protagonist) is a surprisingly complex character for a YA novel, and his personality comes mainly from two disparate aspects of his upbringing. He is both sympathetic, as a survivor of emotional and physical child abuse who ultimately wants to right the wrongs of unjust behavior, and a privileged shithead, as a Born-In member of the elite Magician social class, who is entitled to special treatment, a job in the government, financial support, and heavy, systematic legal bias in all aspects of his life. The latter of these two is what drives his character through most of the trilogy, but the former is what saves him in the end.

Nathaniel is treated... really, truly appallingly, by his caretakers. He is hurt, humiliated, ridiculed, and mocked by his own parental figure every day of his life, and is forced to become fully independent--emotionally--at the age of ten. His total lack of a support system forces him to support himself, and is the reason he becomes so driven and so ambitious--he realizes he’s better without help, since “help” has never actually helped him. Unfortunately, that leads into... you know... 

John Mandrake (nee Nathaniel), the asshole who casually enslaves sentient beings out of a warped sense of vengeance, actively surveys and arrests innocent civilians on Suspicion Of Treason, and treats all non-magicians like sub-sentient chattel. John Mandrake believes that he has been Wronged, which--yeah, on an interpersonal level, he has! His upbringing was savage and cruel!--but on a larger, cultural scale, no, he has not been Wronged. He is extremely privileged; despite his innate belief, the only difference between Magicians and Commoners is that Magicians are rich and educated (in this universe, magic is an academic pursuit that anyone can learn, if given the right information), and Commoners are poor, and sent to public schools that teach them Propaganda and Important Service Skills, so that they might grow up and better serve Magicians, Their Financial Superiors. Functionally, there’s no difference between Magicians and Commoners. But Mandrake lives in a society that is based upon the idea that Magicians are Good and Kind and Protect The Poor Innocent Defenseless Sheeple (who serve them in payment)--that he is inherently, functionally better, that he is divinely chosen to have his position, and that--well, if Commoners get caught in the gears? If they are the grist that the mill requires? Too Bad, isn’t it, but it isn’t as though they’re people, is it?

Mandrake is told, you can have the power you were denied as a child, so long as you take it from other people. And he drinks the goddamn koolaid.

I don’t know that I want to go into the whole literal enslavement of another main character thing, but he does that too! The narrative (and we, as readers) tend to gloss over that to some extent, because if he didn’t do it, we wouldn’t get Bartimaeus’ LIT commentary. But like. It’s worth mentioning.

In the end, Nathaniel is woken up to what he’s doing and is horrified by the Thing that John Mandrake has become, and works hard to change and to be compassionate again, which is noble. But I find that it varies, from reader to reader, if he did enough. I actually used to be FIRMLY in the “Nathaniel Fucking SUCKS” camp, but by interacting with other people who stood in the “Nathaniel Suffered And Chose To Try Anyway” camp, found myself gravitating towards the middle. I think he’s fucking FASCINATING as a character that 12-17 year olds are supposed to interact with, and reading the Bartimaeus Trilogy was hugely influential in my understanding of how Grey Morality and Character Analysis works. I give a HUGE recommendation to you or any adult who read these as a kid to revisit them. Especially the Audiobooks narrated by Simon Jones! No joke, probably the best audiobook i have ever listened to. The man is an unstoppable performer. He’s amazing.

Also the mane is not worth it Bartimaeus. Look at your boyfriend not at your dope mane. Look at your boyfrieND LOOK AT YOUR--

#bartimaeus #nathaniel underwood #john mandrake #meta #i don't know what to tag this lmao #ALSO I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND ME PUBLISHING THIS IT....TURNED.....INTO AN ESSAY #kingyo-diva

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 4

a/n: hi I'm back! Please don’t hate me tbh. The semester is off to a crazy start for me already, I don't think Senior year is gonna go down without a fight. I’m really excited for these babies tbh. Shit’s about to get real so strap yourself in tight!!!!! 

WARNINGS: deep throating, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), restraints, general Dom-ness? 

*y/n’s point of view*

The only good thing about bougie ass dinners with industry people is playing dress up. Nothing else good could come out of a bunch of rich people throwing themselves a dinner to network and do a raffle for charity so that no one notices how pointless the dinner was. New York was notorious for them. More so than even LA maybe. But, however much you hated them wasn’t going to stop you from attending. It was important for the company that you go. You figured a little pampering session was the least that you deserved.

Somewhere along the line you stopped having to visit beauty shops with black plastic bags that contained your hair for the event. At some point a hair stylist started showing up at your apartment. You stopped paying in cash and started having Tiana pay the bill. Things had changed a lot actually. But the quality of your hair? Sis, that was a standard that must be improved upon and maintained.

One cannot imagine the power of a lacefront until it has adorned your head. Think Beyonce on stage with the jet of a thousand fans whooshing through her hair. Only without the networth or discography. Tonight you were going for something a little unorthodox, a little outside of your comfort zone. Purple to be exact. But not just any purple. It was this rich, vibrant shade of purple. The roots started out black which made it a little more natural looking and this beautiful wig was sitting at twenty-six inches long meaning you were finna be looking GWOOD. Yes with the ‘w’, too.

“Ooooooo child! Would you look at me?! Where did she come from looking so pretty? Sheesh!” You cackled at the mirror.

Tiana laughed right along with you as your stylist did some finishing touches to make sure your wig was glued for the rest of the night.

“If you’re done loving on yourself we gotta get you into your dress and make up in less than thirty minutes.”

“Oh shit, girl why didn’t you say somethin’?”

Tiana just rolled her eyes. She had said something. At least three times. Woops.

Your dress for the evening was one of those dresses that one didn’t get to eat meals in because any added weight might make the zipper burst. Usually you were a flowly type of gal, a fuck the patriarchy type of gal. But the dress was silk and free so like...just this once.

In the car to the event, you work on emails for your artists, while Tiana works on emails for you. You were probably moving in the direction of needing to hire more bodies, hell you knew your clients were pulling in enough work on their own, but it was hard to give up the duo, the dream team. You craved the intimacy of having your best friend with you always, and you weren’t ready to let anyone else invade that space yet.

“Can we leave this thing early and go get burger king or somethin’?” You whined leaning on her shoulder.

Tiana, never one to be out done, was in her own outfit for the night. It was a sparkly beaded dress with extremely intricate detailing on the bodice. She was thicker than even you were, boobs and ass and thighs galore with a tummy to match that she was just as proud of. All of this exquisite body was draped for the gods that night, the way that she deserved. Her hair remained natural for the night but tied up into these beautiful knots in a row of three on her head. She was beautiful and perfect. You loved her infinitely.

She snorted softly. “We have to stay until at least dessert has been served. But I see no reason not to hit up some food afterwards.”

“How tipsy can I be and still get away with it tonight?”

“Hmm...I think if you do more than four vodka-crans you might start asking people if their families owned slaves.”

You purse your lips in annoyance. “But that’s my favorite question! I never get to have fun. Shit.”

Post the whole hitting number one on Forbes 30 under 30 list, you had to start doing the whole red carpet thing. Cameras weren’t your favorite, and you liked the flash of them even less. However,  Black Women didn’t exactly get to the position you were in very often, and so you’d smile and pose a little if it meant some little black girl from queens sitting at home might see it and create the thought in her head that she could get there to. Cause she needed to. There needed to be more. It wasn’t even an option.

It’s on that red carpet that you see him. Why it had never occurred to you that he would be there you weren’t quite sure. But it didn’t. And you were left floundering in the middle of a million cameras as you witnessed your fuck buddy walk out in a deep maroon, red suit like the goddamn devil he was. You bit your lip as he ran his fingers through his hair and slid his hand into the pocket of his perfectly tight pants while he smoldered for the camera. Jesus.

“Bitch you are making dick sucking eyes in the middle of this red carpet! Get. It. Together.” Tianan hissed in your ear.

“I--I am so sorry. I’m together. Together. I promise.” You whispered.

You cleared your face, teeth resetting into your famous smile. Your fingers rested on your thigh and hip for that perfect pose. Maybe you settled your hair a little more over your shoulder. The photographers were impressed, as they should be, and called for a little more action. There’s no way you let your eyes roam over to see if he was staring. There was no need. You could feel the heat in which he stared, nearly felt the zipper on the back of your dress come undone with it. Hmmm. Sounds about right. Men, so obvious.

Eventually you turned to let Tiana lead you to the next section of carpet. Unfortunately there was nowhere else to turn. He was there. Hair perfectly nestled into a curly disarray. You didn’t miss the way he licked his lips as you walked closer. There’s no way the cameras missed it either.

“Y/n!” He called, the cocky asshole. “Let’s get a picture.”

Your eyes widened and you turned to Tiana for assistance, only for her to shrug.

“There’s technically no reason to say no.”

And that is how you found yourself in the middle of a red carpet, his fingers burning against your hip as you both smiled for the cameras.

“We are in public.” You hissed through clenched, but smiling, teeth. “Please act like it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of acting differently.” He grinned, fingers digging a little more firmer against your skin. “But uh, you taking this dress off in my apartment later or is that my job?”

You went to throw your hair over your shoulder again and took the time to subtly and smoothly ram your elbow into his side.

“Ouch. Dammit, y/n.”

You smiled. “I must be moving on. Have a lovely time, sweetheart.”

His eyes travel over your back and down to your ass as you walk away. Again, you don’t need to look to know it. You were a fucking dream.

The inside is just as schmoozy and annoying as ever. There’s some violin, harp type shit. There’s a cocktail hour. Half of the audience looks ready to keel over. And yet here your black ass was having to deal with it all. Rude. But like always you and Tiana made the most of it.

She led you through the throngs of people stopping you when it was necessary to shake hands and kiss cheeks. Tiana understood just as you did, that as annoying as it was, these nights were extremely necessary. The better you fit into the crowd here, the more leverage you had to buck the system in your daily job. And you loved bucking the system.

By the time the cocktail hour had ended you had all but forgotten about Shawn and that godforsaken suit. It isn’t until Tiana and you head for your table for the dinner that you catch sight of a head of hair that didn't look nearly as good as when your fingers were tugging at it. He’s leaning on the chair of some other woman, blonder and thinner and so your opposite that it must give the man whiplash. But that’s fine. It’s not like you’re exclusive, not like you’re dating at all. You don’t care at all.

There’s a glass of champagne in your hand and you keep your body turned entirely the opposite way of his, so as to not intrude on his conversation. Tiana gives you a little helpless smile as if she isn’t sure whether this means anything to your or not. But, it doesn’t.

“I’m fine.” You assure her hand reaching to touch her arm. “Now don’t let me drink more than six of these.”

“Four. We said four sis.” She snorted.

You shrugged your shoulder. “Ti, we gotta let loose every now and again. We deserve it.”

“It’s my job to make sure you don’t regret it in the morning.” She noted.

“Nah, fuck that. You work practically twenty-four, seven for me, Ti. I know we’re best friends but like...take the night off. Drink. Eat. Relax. Find someone to go home with. You deserve it, okay? I’m serious.”

Her playful grin dipped into a genuine smile. You were ride or dies for a reason.

She leaned closer and settled your hair more perfectly along your shoulder as a guise to whisper in your ear.

“It’s okay if it bothers you, ya know? Like you’re entitled to your emotions.” She breathed.

Your eyes widened over her shoulder as the only person in the world with the ability to catch you slipping caught your ass like a fish out of water.

“I--It doesn’t.” You mumbled. “I’m not bothered at all.”

“Okay. That’s okay too. I just want you to know that if there’s anyone in the world you could maybe share that with if you were feeling it, that that would be me okay?”

You smiled softly. “I know. I do. Thank you. I’ll be fine okay? Don’t worry about me.”

“So what...I’m just supposed to go to the bar? Get a drink?” She giggled.

“Yes, bitch. Get several, okay? Put it on my tab. Stop worrying about me. You worry more than my mama does and she worries enough for all of us.”

You pulled her easily into your arms for a hug and a kiss before swatting her on her ass to get her to leave. Behind every successful Black Woman is always another Black Woman itching to see her succeed. Well sometimes success needs to come with some time off. What better night to give her some?

The problem arose that once you sent Tiana off to live her best life, you were still stuck at a table with a whole bunch of people you didn’t know. Except for Shawn. Who you could definitely feel staring at you as you took a sip of champagne. You flicked your hair like an elegant curtain over your shoulder, still facing away from him. Perhaps you had forgotten the kind of guy that he was, that taking no’s or subtleties weren’t exactly in his wheelhouse. It was hot in the bedroom, and annoyingly inconvenient everywhere else.

“So are we just pretending we don’t know each other?” He asked throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Just wanna know how I’m meant to play it.”

You rolled your eyes in the opposite of his direction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just sitting here waiting for this unseasoned ass meal to begin.”

He chuckled. “You are about as subtle as a bus to the forehead. You realize that, right?”

Unable to ignore the emotion that fluttered in your stomach, something that was unnamable to you even then, you turned to face him. His chair was directly next to yours, his arm draped casually against the back of your chair with ease. His hair was still just as perfect, if not a little more tugged into submission from the last time you saw him. He was grinning at you and eyeing your lips even now. As if it was a game that you’d lost before you’d even knew you were playing.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“I just couldn’t help but notice the glare you sent my way when I was talking to Natasha earlier.”

“Natasha.” You snorted. “Who the hell is Natasha?”

“Funny...She’s just an associate alright? Works for my dad.” He hummed, lips practically at your ear.

You barely sniffed in his direction.  “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Mhm. And why do you feel so inclined to assure me of that huh? Or is that you being subtle?”

He rolled his eyes at you, a playful little smirk upon his lips. You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him one bit. He drove you crazy.

The chatter of the room dimmed slightly as the food finally began to arrive to the tables. Shawn didn’t move his arm from around your chair. In fact as the waiter began to doll out plates to your table, he leaned in even more, let his lips rest against your ear like there was no one in the room but the two of you.

“Doesn’t quite matter who I talk to does it? No one’s my good little girl like you.” He whispered.

Your eyes fluttered over to him before looking aimlessly anywhere else. Your champagne glass. The silverware. The old man across from you who looked like he was wearing a toupee from the 70’s. The party moved seamlessly around the two of you, but you couldn’t help but look for eyes that might be on you. Shawn didn’t seem the least bit interested in doing anything besides driving you mad. He never seemed to be worried about much of anything. You both envied it and were annoyed by it. It didn’t stop your legs from crossing tighter, or your spine from straightening now did it?

“Not tonight.” You sighed. “Not here.”

He released a hum that you’d only ever heard in the bedroom. It was one of disapproval, one of challenge. He hated when he didn’t get his way, and this was you denying him on the thing he wanted most in that very moment. You.

“After. My place isn’t far.”

The waiter finally got to the two of you placing your dishes before you. Something that resembled a dry ass piece of chicken lay stagnant on your plate, with some weird dots of something that looked like baby food. It was enough to get your mind back on track and enough to get you more centered and less dick crazy.

“I--I can’t. Tiana and I are going to Burger King.” You shrugged.

You could see his eyes widen from your periphery giving you the time to ask the waiter for another drink. You might need it.

“Burger King...Well fuck it let’s go to Burger King then.”

It was your turn to look at him, wide eyed and confused.

“I’m sorry? What part of what I just said made you think your pasty ass was invited to my Burger King expedition?”

“I just figured we should take some time to build up our strength for some late night activities is all.”

Genuinely, how did you end up here? Where was the camera? When was the joke going to reveal itself?

“Honestly you must have a script writer or something. There is no way that shit actually comes out of your brain and through your mouth.”

The table around you was having a conversation, but it just didn’t seem to matter. Nothing really cut through when the two of you were together. Whether he was annoying you or turning you on, Shawn seemed to take up all your senses. He did it with ease and with swagger. Sometimes you didn’t even hate him for it. Sometimes you wished you hated him more.

“Have you ever thought about how much easier both of your lives would be if you argued with me less and just let me make you happy more often?” He asked.

You peered at him looking for a sign of him joking, waiting for him to say something smart, something that would make you want to slap him. But he didn’t. He just stared as if he genuinely wanted an answer. And when the time came you were helpless but to give it to him.

“Is that...is that what you’re concerned with? Making me happy?” You asked.

He stared at you for a second, eyes wide and sincere, before his shoulders dropped and he shrugged away whatever moment there might have been.

“‘Course I am darlin’. I’m concerned with keeping us both happy if you know what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on cutting through the food on your plate. It was barely edible. God you hated these dinners.

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to each other when we’re not naked, yn.” He mumbled between his own bites of dry chicken.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I know that.”

“Yea? So can I come to Burger King then?” He asked.

His jawline points to you and it is as infuriating as it is comforting. You’re not quite sure how he manages that. You just know that you don't quite hate each other. Never have. You actually had periods where you got along quite well. And perhaps that’s what made you the most nervous. This potential for the two of you to get along muddied up the waters slightly. What did that mean if you were two people who fucked and got along? What did it mean if you became friendly, became friends even? You weren’t sure, and it seemed like everything that the two of you might want to avoid. So definitely don’t invite him, right?

“W--Well… Fuck. I guess you can come. But if you at any point start fucking up the atmosphere, I will promptly drop your ass off at the subway.” You warned.

“Fine. It wouldn’t be the weirdest foreplay we’ve gotten up to anyway and you know it.”

“God, kill me now.”

***

When you told Tiana to go live her best life you weren’t quite sure what that meant. But, you knew it had not entailed bringing some random ass man on your friendship Burger King run! Granted he was sexy as hell, but like...not the point. And the fact that you showed up with Shawn tagging along was not to be mentioned, no matter how many eye rolls she sent in your direction. Rude.

“Can we go to your place tonight?” Shawn hummed moving your curtain of hair to tuck gently behind your ear.

You bit your lip, warm and fuzzy from your fifth glass of champagne, and stared at him.

“Mhm. How come though?”

“You sleep better when you’re not in new places. Not that my place is really new anymore, but you still sleep better at home.”

“H--How… How could you possibly know that?”

He shrugged. “You’re not invisible to the world just cause you think you are. I can see you.”

Your heart rate picked up in your chest. You stared at him harder trying to understand how it was possible for this man to do that. He seemed so young, so inexperienced (not in the bedroom of course). You had pegged him as man child, as someone completely out of touch with reality. How dare he see you for more than you had been ready to share. How dare he look deeper.

“I don’t even understand.” You mumbled. “What?”

“At my place you wake up before your alarm. Without fail, every morning. You’re an early bird as it is, but it’s literally like your body enters fight or flight mode or something. We don’t have to talk about it if it’s not what you want. Don’t get mad at me for noticing you though. I think we’re around each other a little bit too much for that now.”

His eyes are warm and gentle and his hand somehow ended up holding your wrist. Even his grasp in gentle. He’s not teasing you, or trying to make a joke. It’s just genuine. Simple. A moment between the two of you that might complicate things if you think hard enough. So, you don’t.

“Fine.” You huffed sliding down in your seat to lean your head on his shoulder. “You don’t like the lights off when you sleep though.”

He peers down at you from above this time, and you get a little stuck on the rosiness of his cheeks.

“Excuse me?” He raised an eyebrow. “We sleep with the lights off every time.”

You shake your head playfully. “At your place you always keep the bathroom light on. At mine? You always change your clothes in my closet and then you leave the light on and the door cracked.”

He goes silent for a while.

You thought maybe you’d touched on a nerve that you weren’t meant to. But, you weren’t sure how to backtrack or talk to him about it. He had touched a nerve for you after all. One that you weren’t quite ready to share. Even with him.

His eyes stayed on his fingers as he played with his rings. You felt calm resting there against his shoulder, watching him. You thought you could fall asleep that way.

“How come you never shut it off?”

You opened your eyes, cheek resting on his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“The light. You never shut it off. You let me keep it on. How come?”

“Cause it seemed like you wanted it, seemed like it made you comfortable. Why wouldn’t I let you do something that makes you happy. It wasn’t affecting me none.”

Another stretch of silence fills the back seat of the car. Tianna and her man giggle to each other. He’s cute. You wonder how long they’ll last. Tianna was the queen of random ass long lasting relationships. She could date someone for two years after meeting them at a bar. She was kind of infectious that way.  You thought that maybe keeping her working for you was stopping her from settling down, from moving on to a new phase in her life...She’d never admit it even if you asked.

“It’s just a thing with my mum.”

“What is?” You asked curiously popping back into the conversation.

“When I was a kid, she used to keep the light on at night so that I wouldn’t get scared. And when we moved out to California, away from Canada, our house was too big. My room was super far away from hers and so she would always keep it on so that I could come find her if I needed to. It’s silly but she’s back in Canada now, and when I go home to visit she still leaves it on. Guess I just got used to it.”

You felt warm against his side. Like maybe if he wrapped his arm around you you wouldn’t mind. Like maybe his lips could touch yours and it would be okay. And when he speaks you feel yourself relax and ease completely against his side. It’s not just the vulnerability. Part of it is the sound of his voice, soft and smooth against your ear. And part of it is his nerves, the way he twitches his fingers as if you might judge him. But you won’t. Couldn’t imagine it.

“That’s not silly.” You whispered against his neck. “That’s sweet. That’s what you deserve. We keep the light on, okay?”

He looked at you like he did at the dinner. Eyes soft and gentle and searching. It’s a loaded glance, but this time you don’t look away.

“Okay. thank you. And we can stay at yours whenever you know? I--I don’t mind.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Burger King is not prepared for the four of you to walk in at eleven o’clock at night, dressed to the tee and looking for food. But the second a chicken sandwich and an onion ring enter your hand nothing else matters. You are zen. You are in pleasure. You are in heaven. You are...horny?

“What in the hell is you lickin’ your lips at?” Tianna snorted as you two sat in a whole ass booth at burger king in five thousand dollar dresses. What a world.

Shawn was ordering you another chicken sandwhich after the first had not satisfied your hunger. But watching him stand at the register with his hands in his pockets, talking to the person ringing up their order was doing something for you that even you couldn’t explain.

“Ti’ I wanna suck his dick.” You admitted softly. “I wanna suck his dick so bad I can’t stand it.”

“Oh sweet jesus.”

You bit your lip as he turned to throw a smirk at you over his shoulder. That was all she wrote.

“I have to fuck him. Like now.” You shrugged. “ I don’t make the rules.”

“Bitch the hold that man’s dick has on you I will never understand. You cannot go fucking that boy in a Burger King bathroom. That is a level of ratchet-edy that I cannot allow as your best friend.”

You turned to your best friend in your time of need. Tianna had been there your whole life. From braces to training bras to stretch marks to breaks ups. She had seen you at your worst and at your best. And most certainly she had seen you at your horniest.

“Ti, here’s the thing. Sometimes I just need someone to rail me.” You offered in your loosened state. “Sometimes? I need to be bent over and taken for everything that I’ve got. Now I’m not picky about who does it as long as they do it well. The problem...and it is a very big problem, sis...is that no one has ever had the audacity to fuck me like that firm, chiseled little beanpole can.”

“Not beanpole, bitch.” She cackled.

You licked your lips in his direction and sighed the sigh of a woman who was in desperate need of dick. What a life.

“I’m serious. I think it’s the greatest, throw my back out and leave me crying , dick I’ve ever had.” You hummed. “I want him.”

“Well let’s get some more food in your drunk ass and then he can throw your back out a little later.”

It would never make sense to Tianna. It wasn’t that you were drunk at all. In fact, with some food in your system you felt pretty fine. It was just that you really liked the way that he made you feel. And he really liked the way that he made you feel. Shawn should’ve been selfish, should’ve been cocky and underwhelming and sucky in bed. But he wasn’t. He was just...good. He was good and whatever it was that the two of you had, you kind of liked it. What was wrong with that?

Tiana got up to go meet her mans, and when Shawn got back to the table, he set your food in front of you politely. Instead of focusing on the sandwich you looked up at him. And he looked back. His fingers gripped the back of your seat and you leaned forward until you were in each other’s space, until your chin butted softly against his stomach.

“What?” He chuckled fingers grazing your jaw.

Too soft. God he was so soft.

“Mmm. Want you to kiss me.”

His eyes widened slightly and his fingers stilled.

“You do? Right now?”

You nodded. “Please?”

He looked into your eyes and his teeth sunk gently into his bottom lip. Your lips parted and you leaned forward, your heart thumping unevenly in your chest. When he kissed you, you weren’t quite sure what to expect. You thought you’d grown used to his kiss, to the feel of his teeth and his tongue. But, nerves nestled deep in your gut as you weren’t sure what kind of kiss he might give you. When his fingers trailed along the back of your neck softly before gripping it tightly. Breath wooshed past your lips as he yanked you forward to kiss you hard, fast, and deep…in a Burger King.

You gasped lifting slightly out of your chair as his tongue snaked in. Your fingers found his hair and squeezed tight, squeezed desperately at everything that he was. Suddenly your whole body was on fire with want, with need. His hands burned at your hips and you fell into him. He knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. What he always did to you. God you hated him.

“Eat your chicken and let’s go.” He huffed barely pulling back to lick his lips.

Your eyes fluttered wantonly up at him. “W--What are we doing?”

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little mouth of yours. And then I’m gonna eat your pussy until you sob.”

He tapped lightly on your cheek before turning on his heel and heading straight for the door. If there was a chicken sandwich or a meteor, or God herself in that damn restaurant you was not finna notice.

“Bitch where is you going?!” Tiana called after you.

But there was no use. You were practically floating on air after that man like the dirty little whore you were. Thank you.

“Gotta go.” You called over your shoulder not wanting to miss the way his ass looked in those pants.

Outside the cool fall air felt like ice against your heated skin. The city was still alive and bustling, cars weaving in and out of traffic, horns honking, people booking it to their next location. Shawn stood at the edge of the sidewalk near the car that had driven you from the event, but made no move to get into the vehicle. As you stepped closer, your thighs still practically quivering, he turned to you and smiled before licking his lips with dark and clouded eyes. Fuck.

“Why aren’t you getting in the car?” You whined.

He reached for your hand to pull you closer. One second you were standing beside him and the next he had lifted you just slightly off of the ground until the soles of your shoes were nestled on top of his. His hands settled just below the curve of your ass and tugged your thighs so that your bodies were pressed together. It was some Cinderella, prince charming shit that you had never in your natural born life expected. Suddenly you were feeling far more intoxicated than the drinks had ever caused.

“I didn’t wanna leave Tianna stranded, so I called my driver. He never left the banquet; he’ll be here in fifteen.”

You nodded softly fingers resting on his shoulders at he held you against him.

“Should we...like wait inside then?”

He shook his head with a smirk that made your toes clench.

“No. I’d rather tell you all the things I’m gonna do to you the second I get you alone. We don’t need to go inside for that.”

You gulped. Bitch, honest to god gulped. You didn’t know anyone but Shaggy and Scooby was walking around gulping, but alas. What a fucking night.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You whispered.

He sighed softly letting his thumb run over your cheek in soothing motions again. Then he wrapped his arms around your back and held you so close that may have felt like more than what it was had he not began to speak lowly into your ear.

“I’m gonna keep you in your panties all night.” He hummed. “I’m gonna eat you so good you’ll be aching for me to rip them off, but I won’t. I’m gonna lick you through them. I’m gonna make you cum against my face with them on. I’m gonna lick you clean with them on. I’m gonna drive you absolutely fucking wild if I can help it.”

You swore your knees gave out. But it didn’t matter because his fingers were digging deep into your hips to keep you upright. It wasn’t a sexual embrace. It was barely even romantic. This of course only made it hotter that he was talking to you in the manner that he was, that anyone might walk by at any moment and would have no idea the things he was saying it. You got wet just thinking about it.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked. “Gonna let me make you feel good?”

“Y--Yes. Yes, sir. I promise I’ll be so good for you. Only wanna be good for you.”

“Yea? Gonna let me slip my cock between this pretty lips?”

His thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you moaned embarrassingly loud.

“Shit.”

He leaned forward to kiss your forehead another juxtaposition of emotions and actions that really were sending your body through the ringer. How was he real?

“I’m gonna fuck your throat until you beg me to stop.” He said calmly.

The car pulled up at that exact moment but you were frozen to your spot. Shawn was completely unbothered by the existential crisis that he’d left you in, and simply lifted your feet off of his to open the door. As if it was just a tuesday night or some shit. The audacity.

“Sweetheart let’s not keep Jake waiting, aye? It’s rude.” He murmured in regards to his driver.

Surely there had to be a level where this stopped. Surely, it was all getting to be too much. This man seemed to have you wrapped around his larged, perfectly skilled finger. Yes. Too much. Needs to stop. Like yesterday.

“Okay.” You sighed and shuffled your fine ass into the car.

Welp. Maybe another day.

***

“Are the ropes too tight?” He breathed against your neck, lips trailing delicately over the skin.

You hummed. “No. Feels good.”

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.”

He steps in front of you, his body long and lithe and taking up all of your senses. His thighs flex with ease and that’s before you even get to the sharp jut of hip that leads to a perfectly pointed V towards his dick. He’s already hard and already ready for you to make him feel good. Because that’s what it’s about. Mutual pleasure. You from giving and him from receiving, and within that giving you everything that you could ever ask for. Your thong is soaked just thinking about it.

“You’re not gonna be able to speak obviously, so I need you to tap me three times really quick if you want me to stop okay?” He asked eyes wide and sincere.

You nodded. “Okay.”

“No I’m serious. If it starts to hurt, I need you to stop me. If it start feels less than good at any point you tell me to back the fuck off. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Shawn, I understand.” You assured him.

He makes you practice it through the ropes around your wrist. Only once you’re comfortable and he’s comfortable does he step closer. Your wig now gone and in its place is your hair pulled tightly into a bun at the back of your head, there’s not much for him to grab onto. That doesn’t seem to bother Shawn in the slightest.. His fingers reach for your cheeks and jaw instead, gentle and playful at first and he tilts your head to the right angle for him. When his cock slips into his hand, and he lets the head rest between your lips, the sound that comes out of him is so tantalizing you nearly cum right there.

“So pretty for me, sweetheart.” He groaned. “Go ahead and get it wet.”

Your tongue laves at the thick fleshiness of his head. He won’t let you move closer to get more, won’t push forward at all yet, so all you can use is your tongue. Surprisingly you love the power that it gives you. The power of being in control of his pleasure from beneath him. It’s an intricate play at the power dynamics that the two of you constantly played with. But, you like it. You like it a lot. You let the tip of your tongue trace lazily at his slit and notice the way his eyes flutter close at the feeling.

“Fuck. Y/n, yes. That’s it.”

He steps a little closer and finally lets his dick slip between your lips. Your tongue continues running beneath the underside, fingers wrapping instinctively around one of his ankles to anchor you more to this moment, this pleasure. The second he gives you the leeway, you wrap your lips tightly around him and suck. You weren’t kidding back at Burger King, you were more than prepared.

“Goddamn, your fucking mouth. You’ll be the death of me you know that?”

You slurped a little nosily at the amount of his length that he had given you, wanting to show your enthusiasm as an answer to his question. He steps a little closer now, and fills you more.

His hands come to rest on your head, one directly on top, and the other at the bottom of your jaw. Your eyes finally lock and his lips fall open in lust as he lets his cock slap against your tongue.

“I’m gonna start to move now. I’m gonna give you more and more until my whole dick is in your mouth. You know our safety signal right?”

You nod eagerly. Desperately. He makes you practice the signal again just in case. Three taps for STOP. Two for slow down a little. One for I’m so happy with this.

The first time he puts his whole dick in your mouth it isn’t even the feel of him that makes your entire body pur. Instead it’s the sound of him whining, His legs tremble and his eyes flutter shut. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. And you want more of it. Crave it even. So you let him fill you. You let your throat relax and your tongue flatten. You breathe through your nose and you don’t dare move as he slowly begins to move his hips. It has its intended effect on him, but even more than that is the effect it has on you. Your pussy throbs indecently as his balls tap your chin. The rops tighten as you stretch to lean closer, to be closer. His mouth parts and he moans for you. It’s euphoria.

“Jesus. Your mouth feel so damn good.” He grunted.

His thrusts got tighter, more pointed until the sound of your dick between your lips was lewdy and filthy. You welcome the spit that dripped from your mouth, yearned for the way it made him gasp and plead for you. Was he in control? Maybe. But who was really steering the pleasure? You were. And you fucking loved every second of it.

When he pulls from your throat you gasp and cough for breath, but not without seeing the way the tip of his cock was red and angry and leaking. It flapped against your lips and glistened in the light of his bedroom. Even when you were still fighting to breathe, you couldn’t help but want to suck it again.

“I--I’m not gonna fucking last.” He huffed squeezing at the base to stave off his orgasm.

You couldn’t help but pout at the way he got to touch himself while your fingers were tied. Couldn’t stand that your lips weren’t on him anymore.

“Don’t need to. Don’t want you to.” You whined. “Come back to me.”

The look that he gives you is one of heat and lust and something that’s maybe a bit tender. He cups your jaw again and bites his lip like he’s conflicted. About what you haven’t got a clue. Before you can think too much he’s thrusting himself into you again, but this time with more power, more recklessness. It burns slightly at your throat. The sounds get louder, more dirty, and so does the way he cries out for you. It’s desperate and needy and so fucked out and GOD why won’t he touch your pussy yet?!

“‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum down your throat.”

Your fingers gripped desperately at his calf, mouth stretch wide beyond your limits and he gagged you repeatedly with his cock. The fight for air was long and hard, but the way he trembled on his fucking toes for you was everything. It was power and it was beauty and it just made you want to be good for him. You just needed to please him. Simply because you could. Better than anyone fucking else could.

He cums with his fingers wrapped tightly around the back of your skull holding you against his crotch as he emptied himself into your throat. When he pulls out his head taps your lip a final time and each of you groan for different reasons. You for the air that fills your lungs, and him for the orgasm that seems to rock him to his very core.

“Shit. Shit y/n. That was amazing.” He whined.

You smile softly with wet eyes and a wet lips and a bit of a sore throat.

“I know.” You hum.

He rolled his eyes playfully at you and moves to his bedside table for the bottle of water he left for you there. Shawn quickly dropped to his knees along side you and lifted the water bottle to your lips to let the cool water trickle down your throat.

“Are you okay?” He checked. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No. Feel good. A little sore. But good.”

“Yea? Well you were amazing. You’re always amazing.”

It fills you with a lightbeam of happiness that is too much to deal with it. You felt like you were on cloud nine. It was one thing for you to know you were good, and another entirely for him to agree. Another thing entirely for him to praise you so endlessly and feverently. It made you feel so damn good.

He untied your wrists and rubbed his thumbs soothingly into your skin. His lips track down yours and it’s just as good as it was at Burger King, just as hunger filled and desperate.

“‘M gonna get you on the bed okay?” He mumbled against your mouth, still pressing heated kisses to your skin. “Your hands aren’t tied anymore so you can do whatever you want with them while I’m eating you out. You can tug on my hair. You can grab at me in whatever way you need. There’s just one thing you can’t do.”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t push me away. I’m gonna make you cum. You’re gonna want me to stop. But I won’t. And I need you to be good for me. I need you to take it. Okay?”

“O--Okay.” You sighed, thighs squeezing together again. “Okay. I’ll be good.”

He smiled and gripped your chin. “My good girl. Come.”

There is nothing like the feeling of him between your legs. His body is warm and hard and heavy. He roots you to the bed and makes you feel more present than ever. His lips and tongue are hot against your already flushed skin as he kisses and nibbles his way along your thighs and stomach. With your hands now free to roam as they please you can’t seem to get enough of him. The softness of his curls between your fingers. The bulge of muscle at his shoulder blades. The dip in the back of his spine. And the entire time he’s doing just what he promised. His tongue soaked at the fabric of your thong, pushing it against your clit with languid little strokes. If you thought that your underwear being in the way would make it less intense, you couldn't have been more wrong. The fabric was silk and it added another texture against your skin as he sucked and prodded at you. Not even fifteen minutes later and your legs had found their way around his back, toes nudging that divet in the small of it again.

“S--Shawn.” you whined pitifully. “Please. More.”

He peered up from between your thighs with the grin of the devil. His lips were already red and swollen. You simply needed more contact.

“I’ll give you more when I’m ready honey. Be good for me.” He cooed.

He sucks a mark into the jut of your lip and runs his tongue there to soothe the flesh before he dives back in.

It’s absolutely torturous. From the foreplay of his dick down your throat, to the absolute hell of his teeth on your thighs, you were buzzing. The need that seem to build and throb from your core was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You’d never craved being touched, had never needed it this badly. But, here Shawn was constantly pulling emotions and feelings that no one had ever been capable of getting out of you.

He slurped loudly at your pussy through your thong, constantly flicking the fabric to tap anxiously at your clit. When your orgasm started to build, your fingers fisted into his hair, thighs clenched. You pushed closer to his mouth and cried out widely for him, for his tongue, for anything that meant he might take you over the edge. And over the edge you went.

“Fuck. Ohmygod--fuck yea!”

He let you grind your pussy against his face. Let you ride that high like you rode his mouth. And when the orgasm began to ebb and your clit throbbed again, he leaned onto his elbows and grabbed at your ass to pull you even closer against his face. He wasn’t done. He’d barely even fucking started.

“SHAWN!”

He tugged the thong out of the way and licked you clean, ran his tongue along every crevice and nerve ending. When he traces the very tip of your clit with the tip of his tongue your legs close like venice fly trap around his head. Your fingers thrust into his hair and you let out a moan that you would be embarrassed of in broad daylight. There’s just no way in hell he’s got you cumming again this fast.

He got up onto his knees, fingers digging deep into your thighs and wrestled you down onto his expensive ass bed. By the time he comes up for air, your legs were literally trembling and you heart soared so fast in your ears that it was all you could hear.

“This pussy was fucking made for me.” He grunted licking his lips. “Come here.”

“W--wait, I’m so sensitive.”

He paused, fingers still gripping you just tightly enough.

“Color?”

You bit your lip. “Green.”

“You’re sure?”

You nodded softly and leaned back onto your elbows as he made his way between your thighs once again. He tugged your thigh over his shoulder and settled onto his side to make himself more comfortable. Your eyes met from between your legs as he pressed a kiss to one of your pussy lips.

“You make me wait again and I’ll slap your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow okay?” He murmured.

Your fingers reached instinctively for his hair now, tightening into the curls as you threw your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck. Okay. Okay, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Mmmm. Good girl.” He hummed against your core.

He starts to lick and suckle at you again ignoring the ways that your legs shake at this point. His hands are dancing on your thighs and gripping at the flesh so good it makes you squirm all the more. It really does just feel too good to be true. His tongue is like a sinful miracle and you’ve been fooling around long enough for him to know your body inside and out. From the way he bumps your clit with his nose, to the way his tongue traces around the skin in tight little circles. Every part of it feels infinitely special. When his fingers slip inside of you and curve towards the darkest part of your being, your hips start to flail again. He only smiles up at you in satisfaction.

“So sensitive for me. Wanna make you cum again. Can you cum for me sweetheart?”

Your back arched hips pushing closer and closer towards him as he filled you up and rubbed roughly at your gspot.

“Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god, Shawn! Please. Please make me cum.”

He pushed at the thigh that was over your shoulder and spread you further so that his fingers could do their magic. He rubbed deeper and deeper into you, fingers curving so that your body lost all control. This orgasm starts in your belly, warm and firey before it spread through every nerve ending. When you cum it’s like an eruption. Your screams reach new octaves. The squelching sound of Shawn’s plunging fingers meeting the thick, sticky liquid from your heat. It’s all too much. Too too much.

“HOLY FUCK!”

He pulled his fingers from within you and let your body drop back down to the bed spread. Your heart raced in your chest and your legs felt like jello. You could barely breathe and Shawn thought it was the funniest shit in the world. He peered down at you with hungry eyes and the cockiest fucking grin in the world and your pussy had the audacity to twitch again. What a whore.

He climbed onto your body, thighs bracketing either side of your torso. His dick was red and leaking again, your body literally shivering as he thrust lazily against your stomach.

“‘M gonna cum on your tits.” He whimpered fisting himself in his palm again. “Is that okay?”

He pumped at his shaft, curls flopping beautifully along his forehead with every thrust of his hips. Shawn was a dream. A sweaty, trembling dream that made your heart race and your toes curl. In the moment with his thighs tenses on either side of you, and his lips parted and swollen, denial was not an option. You ached for his pleasure, for his reward. You craved it.

“Yes. Yes!”

Your hands grasped at the flesh of your boobs lifting them to be pressed together. Your nipples stood erect and rock hard, and this only seemed to spur him on even more. The best part of Shawn’s position above you was the ability to watch him fall apart. Your dom, for all of his charisma and perfected authority, crumbled when he was near orgasm. It was in those few seconds that you got to see him in his most vulnerable state. Whiny and red faced and just as overwhelmed as you. And god did you love every second of it.

He shoved up on his knees and groaned so low that you felt it in your own chest. The head of his cock barely poked out from his fist as he fell over the finish line, cum spurting out in thick long ropes along your body. He gasped and heaved in elation hunching in on himself too. You reached without thinking to take his cock into your mouth, cleaning the last remnants of his orgasm with your tongue. When you pulled back with a nice plop for added measure, he collapsed beside you on the bed. Both of you were absolutely done for after a total of five orgasms split between the two of you. There was simply nothing else for you to give.

“F--Five minutes.” He gasped from beside you. “Five minutes and I’ll go get the washcloth.”

It seemed like a fair trade off. You couldn’t even feel your pussy to let him clean you up after all. What was another five minutes?

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[toshis-puppycat]

Dreams Can Come True Sometimes

A/n: so I feel like I'm procrastinating a lot but ya know I just feel like I should also write other things too ya know? Also I blame the gc I'm in for all this Anyways here's some attempt for.me writing some stepdad!Richie lmao. I hope yall enjoy.

——

Richie Tozier was the bane of your existance, at first you were so happy for your mother meeting him. Mainly because you knew she was lonely and that she didnt actually like going out for dating. Meeting him was a completely different story though. 

When you met him, your mother had invited him over for dinner. Thinking you wouldn't be there, as a just in case you weren't ready to meet him. You were completely fine with it considering that night a guy you'd met also asked to take you out. You said yes, completely hopeful about the entire thing and made sure to look your absolute best. But the whole thing was a bust. He expected you to put out while acting so entitled to you. 

"If I'm not being driven home, I'm breaking your goddamn nose." You said to him.

"Fine, fuck like cant you give a guy a break? I was a gentleman to you sweetheart." He said, reluctantly driving you to your home.

"Um no you showed basic human decency then expected me to bend over for you. Fuck that. If that's how you wanna be then I want no part of it." You responded, clearly taking none of his bullshit. Guys like that always pissed you off, acting entitled and getting pissed when you said no. Definitely not someone youd ever want to date seriously. 

Him driving you back home was fine, you got out of the car quickly just in case he wanted to try anything and when he drove off immediately after you got out you knew you made the right choice. Seeing the two cars though made you a bit reluctant to go inside, remembering your mom saying she was inviting her boyfriend over. 

You walked in as quietly as possible, and sneaked over to your bedroom. You sent a quick text to your mother telling her you came back early but youd be staying in your room and to just pretend you weren't there. She responded with asking if everything was okay, and that she was glad you got home safely. You told her youd talk about it the next day. And then turned your phone off, and changed. Passing out immediately afterwards. However the next day, you walked out of your room to get breakfast and you literally saw the hottest man just cooking in your kitchen.

"What the fuck?" You said aloud, wincing at how loud it actually sounded. He turned around startled, holding a spatula and stared at you.

"Oh uh. Hi. I'm Richie." He said awkwardly, because to be fair it was obvious he stayed the night, and who would walk in to know why he stayed the night? 

"Y/n. I didnt know you stayed the night." You said accusingly. 

"Uh it just happened. Too much to drink ya know?" He joked.

"No not really. Im not 21 yet." You said with a straight face. Of course you did know but you weren't going to say it when your mom could hear you. He shifted awkwardly and winced at the burning smell behind him. Quickly shifting away from you to salvage the food. 

Y/n! You're up!" You heard your mom say, "This is Richie." With a smile on her face. The light in her eyes was back, so you pushed back your distaste. She was happy, so you would be happy for her too. 

A year later had you actually living with him. It wasn't terrible, but now he was your step father. A good one at that if you were going to be honest with yourself. The year of getting to know him made you actually like the man. A little too much. Your whole style changed just so you could see his reaction. You discovered the most adorable outfits that still made you look a little older than you really were. When he ended up paying for your college tuition you were incredibly grateful for it, and you think that's when everything started changing in the way you looked at him. He wasn't the hot guy your mom was seeing, he was your stepfather. Your really hot stepfather. When the dreams started you had no idea what to do other than continue having some of the most filthy fantasies youd ever thought of before. Sometimes Richie would sneak into your bedroom in these dreams, and he'd fuck you like you were someone who made a living for it. With you whimpering out to him and him asking you if you liked getting him off the way you were and if you could just hear how wet you were when hed be thrusting in you. Usually youd wake up red faced and have to take a cold shower in order to calm down. Your mother being none the wiser to it. Seeing Richie however made you think and feel as if you had the most filthy little secret. He wouldnt even be doing anything, he'd be content writing out some jokes for his shows and talking to his childhood friends. When you found out he invited them you decided to try and put everything behind you though. Maybe one of them would help you with the pesky problem of your crush by being someone you could actually see. 

A week later you found out your mother would be leaving for a business deal. Apparently people really liked the fact she was married to Richie Tozier, and loved the fact someone who was so rich was with your mother. It made you hate it, they never played attention to your mother before she was seeing Richie but it helped pay the bills Richie refused to let your mother and you deal with. Saying he wanted you both to enjoy everything he could possibly offer. You both were incredibly grateful, and you both took advantage of the fact he said it. You would buy the most elaborate cutesy but sexy outfits that your mother never seemed to notice thankfully, and started to call Richie daddy. Which he seemed thrilled with at first but then you could catch the faintest tint of pink on his cheeks. Like he was thinking about you the same way you thought about him every night. The day your mother had to leave you were upset, but grateful. Richies friends were still coming over, and you still had things to do.

Richie was in a really bad space, no scratch that a terrible place. A year ago he met an amazing woman, who just so happened to have a daughter. He would have been fine with it, if you weren't so damn alluring. Your style had changed so much since he had entered your lives. Your mother being so happy you were leaving the shell you made for yourself, and testing out new styles with him paying for every single item. He had no problem with it at first. Until he saw what youd be wearing underneath, it was an accident when he saw. He could swear it on his future grave, but the times after he couldn't say anything for it. The lace, the frilly designs of the bras youd chosen, and the shortest skirts he'd ever seen in his life. When you started calling him daddy he was happy at first too. But after he saw what you wore underneath your pajamas he always felt embarrassed about it or rather incredibly turned on. Thoughts of just bonding with you flew out of his mind, turning into filthy fantasies where youd be in your room bending over somewhere and begging him to fuck you harder. He could feel himself hardening now, but he shooed the thought away. He couldn't focus on that right now. Everyone was going to be coming over. He just prayed that youd behave and not dress the way you usually did now and days. 

You were in your bedroom when you heard the commotion downstairs. Excited yells about seeing the great "trashmouth" of their group. You almost rolled your eyes because of course he was a trashmouth when he was younger. It just fit his personality and the jokes he made. You sneaked out of your bedroom and looked towards the entryway, Richie was there with 3 other men. Scratch that three other really attractive men. And you couldn't fucking believe it. That dickbag never fucking mentioned knowing your absolute favorite author. William "Bill" Denbrough was childhood friends with fucking Richie Tozier. You thought maybe the outfit you currently had on was good, but now fuck that. Swimming in the back sounded like a better idea. 

"Yeah, I did get married you asshats. Laugh it up." Richie said. "She has a daughter, but I dont think shes here right now-" he couldn't continue his sentence because you ended up walking down the stairs in the most skimpy bikini he'd ever seen in his life. Everyone stopped talking watching you come down the stairs and jumping down the last step and smiling at them.

"Oh! Sorry, I just wanted to go swimming in the back ya know? It's such a good day to just lounge around in the pool." You said, smiling prettily at the group. Bill was the first to break the tension by smiling at you, which prompted the rest of the group to do the same sans Richie. 

"Ah no you're right! It is a good day to be lounging at the pool." He said, then he stretched his arm out to you. "Bill Denbrough, and you are?" 

You batted your eyes at the him and gave a coy smile. "I'm y/n, Mr. Denbrough. I have to say I'm a huge fan." His eyes lit up, no one would like to say completely that they loved his writing. "I especially like how the endings are, everyone always told me I'd hate the endings but I think even if they were bad they fit the story you made." You said, finally shaking his hand. His face fell a bit, but he brightened again. You did say that the endings fit for the story itself, he couldn't be upset with that. 

"I'm Stan, hi." One of the other men said reaching his hand out to you and firmly shaking yours. You felt so fucking small next to all of them now. When Eddie introduced himself he was red faced and seemed to be struggling to talk. You pretended to not notice the reaction and just smiled at the group. Richie was just standing there still shell shocked at the fucking gall you had introducing yourself to his friends like that. When you turned around he could tell Eddie was about to pass out, you might as well have been wearing nothing. He almost scowled, as he quickly ushered the group to the living room and away from you venturing out to the back. 

You were back inside a few hours later. The sun finally setting for the day and you felt at ease. Richie looked pissed seeing you in your bathing suit earlier and knowing his best friends were oggling you but youd figured he cooled off enough by now. You sneaked back inside, drying your hair as you closed and locked the screen door.

"So you wanna tell me what the fuck that was?" A voice asked. Oops, you guessed he was still pretty pissed from earlier.

"I dont know what youre talking about. I just introduced myself to your friends and went out to the pool daddy." You responded innocently, turning to face him. "It would be incredibly impolite to ignore guests here." 

Richie took a deep breath, his face scrunched up in anger. "Its not funny to do that to my friends. You know they're older than you, they could be your father." He said.

"Yeah but they're not. You're not my father either." You said, looking at him. "I didnt do anything wrong. I introduced myself and then I left so you could spend time with your friends without worrying about me." 

"Y/n-" Richie started.

"Richie. It's not my fault your friends want to fuck me." You said, cutting him off. "I dont think I'd say no to it either. Your friends are pretty hot." 

Then you were pushed against the wall roughly, hands secured around your waist and a leg shoved roughly between yours. "Don't say things like that y/n." Richie whispered in your ear. "Don't say you want to fuck someone my age y/n."

"But I do want someone your age to fuck me." You said, looking him in the eye. "Why cant you, daddy?" You asked, he groaned.

"Hey Rich! Come on your missing the best part!" You heard Bill yell. Oh, they were still here. How unfortunate. Richie pulled away from you quickly looking around to make sure they wouldn't be walking over. They didn't, and you quickly pulled him down for a frenzy heated kiss. When you pulled away you were both flushed, and your heart was pounding.

"Why not visit me tonight, daddy? I promise I'll be good." You said, batting your eyes at him innocently. He groaned, and nodded his head. Then he left you, quickly grabbing some alcohol he left on a table nearby that you didnt even notice. You smiled and quickly ran to the stairs to hop in the shower. Dreams really do come true sometimes.

It was late when he finally ended up coming to your room. You were half asleep, all dressed up for him and he could've groaned at what you were wearing. A beautiful set of pale pink lingerie with thigh high stockings. You were slightly curled up on your bed and he smiled at how absolutely adorable you looked. He was going to make a move to just leave when you shifted in bed, a quiet whimper came out and your hips moved ever so slightly like you were trying to find some friction somewhere. Any thought he had of leaving before was quickly thrown out the window right after that you let out a quiet moan of his name. A breathy whisper, crying out to him. He placed his hand gently on your face, then moving down until it rested on your chest where he tweaked your nipples, smirking at how you sighed and tried to move closer to him. He moved further down and put his hand under your panties, moving his hand down to your clit and pinched it gently between his fingers. Your hips started moving on their own begging for something more, and he took advantage of that by putting a finger in you, groaning at how you tightened around the digit. 

"Daddy please." You whimpered out, finally fully awake from his ministrations as you pulled at his pants, quickly pulling his cock out and putting him in your mouth. His hips jerked and you bobbed your head he put another finger in you, quickly moving his other hand to your clit. 

"You're gonna be a good girl for me right babydoll?" Richie asked you, adding another finger inside and feeling you moan around him. "Such a good girl for me." He said, removing his fingers from you, smirking at how you whined, especially when he moved back and saw how you moved your head forward to keep him in your mouth. "No babydoll, come on. You want me to fuck you right, sweetheart?" He asked, you eagerly nodded your head and quickly played at the edge of your bed, you quickly ended up pulling him down for a frenzied kiss, grabbing at the shirt he had on trying to pull him closer. "So eager aren't you babydoll?" He asked, before pulling your panties to the side and slowly sinking into you, groaning. You winced, he was a little bigger than you expected but god did he fill you up. He moved slowly, kissing at your neck and groping at your chest. You whimpered in his mouth. "God I've wanted to fuck you ever since I saw what you were wearing underneath those cute skirts of yours." He groaned. "You know how much I wanted to bend you over? How much I've wanted to see how wet I could make you? Do you even hear yourself right now? God you're just so wet for me. Stay like this for me babydoll? Just stay exactly like this" He asked you, thrusting in quicker and harsher, moving a hand back down pressing it against your clit again. "Come on I know you want to, I can feel how close you are babydoll." 

"Daddy." You whimpered out, he wasn't wrong but to be fair you'd never thought you'd ever come this quick from someone fucking you. Guys were always so disappointing before. You felt yourself tighten down, hearing him groan out your name and saying "I knew youd be a good girl for me babydoll." Was what really did you in though. You saw stars and he was moving faster and harder. You heard him chuckle.

"I bet no ones ever made you squirt that quick before." He slowed down, a bit just rocking into you and giving such a cocky smirk to you. "I'm not gonna stop until I cum though baby. You haven't helped me enough."

#richie toizer x reader #smut #IT AU #i was so nervous making this I hope yall like it

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 26 | Chapter 28 | AO3 link

Instead of continuing home, Ladybug swings over to the hotel and yo-yos herself up the side of the building until she’s on the railing of Chloé’s balcony. It’s kind of funny how reminiscent this is of Chat Noir’s visit to her before Glaciator struck, to be honest; maybe Chloé needs this open ear just as much as Marinette had needed Chat Noir’s that time.

“Ladybug! You came to visit me!” Chloé leaps off her seat and is next to Ladybug faster than a heartbeat, throwing her arms around Ladybug’s neck. Ladybug yelps and would have fallen off the balcony if not for Chloé yanking her over to the white seats. “Well, I mean, of course you came to visit me. Why wouldn’t you?”

“I was on my way home and I saw you.” Ladybug’s already heavily regretting this decision as Chloé shoves her down into a seat and then sits down and drags her own seat so close that their legs are touching. “I…thought you might want to talk about today.”

For a split second, Chloé’s smile vanishes. But then it’s back, though with a rather plastic quality to it.

“Why?” Chloé says. “You kicked that akuma’s butt just like you always do. With help from moi and my heart-wrenching sacrifice, of course.”

“Chloé, you can drop the bravado,” Ladybug says. “I know you’ve been trying to be nicer. Why did you ruin Marinette’s gift?”

Chloé snorts loudly. “Perfect princess Dupain-Cheng? She thinks she’s just oh so good. And how dare Sabrina just tell the class about my mother like that! Dupain-Cheng had it coming.”

Ladybug bites down on her tongue so hard that she’s left with a faint metallic taste. “I hardly think that Marinette’s intention was to make you look bad,” she says dryly. “Especially since she’s been helping you become nicer.”

“Forget it.” Chloé slouches back in her seat and crosses her arms, blinking rapidly. Is she…about to cry? Chloé Bourgeois, crying? “I’ll never be nice. Why even bother trying?”

“Because you can’t keep lashing out, Chloé,” Ladybug says. “I know there’s probably history with your mum, and I’m not going to insist that you talk to me about it, but…other people have hard lives as well and they don’t turn it on everyone else.”

“Yeah? Well, none of them are me,” Chloé snaps. “I’ve got everything I want. Daddy gives me everything. I’ve got a devoted best friend. And it’s never enough. It’s never enough.” She hunches over and covers her face with her hands. “I don’t even know what more I want. How the fuck am I supposed to give others what they want? Why should I even care?”

“I think you just want someone to understand you,” Ladybug says softly. None of this excuses Chloé’s bullying and entitlement, sure, but…it’s hard not to feel something for her. “I just don’t understand how you and Adrien could have turned out so different when you’ve got such similar upbringings.”

“Well, Adrikins has always been the perfect prince,” Chloé snorts while dabbing at her eyes with her jacket sleeve, smearing mascara all over the yellow material. “And our upbringings weren’t that similar, apart from the rich and famous and shitty parent thing.”

“Are you sure?” Ladybug says. “Adrien once told me that his mother only disappeared recently. But he must have been sheltered for years, right? His mother –”

“– was an amazing woman,” Chloé says. “Auntie Emilie…okay, so she was way overprotective, but she loved her kid. There. That’s your answer. Adrien’s mother gave half a fuck about him.”

“I’m sorry.” Ladybug reaches over and rests a hand on Chloé’s. Chloé gasps but she doesn’t pull away or give any other indication of discomfort. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a parent like that. But that’s not an excuse, Chloé.”

“I just want her to love me!” Chloé stomps her foot. “I tell myself I don’t care and then I see her and it’s like there’s a switch that just flips. She’s my mother, but she treats me like – like I’m a nobody! Like I mean nothing to her even though she’s the one who gave birth to me, so you’d think there’d be some affection!”

“I get that.” How long has Chloé been bottling this up? “But how do you think everyone else feels when you take those feelings and push them on the people around you?”

“You think I don’t know that?” Chloé says. “It makes me feel…good. Like they can have half a goddamn clue how I feel.”

“Chloé, you’ve contributed to more akumas than anyone I know,” Ladybug says gently. “It makes our job harder. I was so proud when I saw you give that birthday present to Marinette and then stood up to Befana for her.”

“You were at Dupain-Cheng’s party?” Chloé’s eyes bulge. “And you didn’t say hi to me?”

“I didn’t really have time to talk to anyone,” Ladybug says, choosing not to point out that she tries not to talk to Chloé more than necessary. “Look, I’m not going to coddle you, because you have to be the one to put the hard work in. But I do see your effort, Chloé. I do see how you try. Consider this your official encouragement.”

“Encouragement for what?” Chloé says. “To paste on a smile and turn all princess nice and sugary sweet…to turn into someone I’m not? I can’t be nice. I’m not nice. Props to Dupain-Cheng for trying, but she failed.”

“Hmm.” Ladybug chews her lip, struggling to find the words that Chloé needs to hear. “You don’t have to be sugary sweet. There’s nothing wrong with being blunt and snarky. But you don’t have to be hurtful as well. You could just as easily turn that bluntness into helpful honesty and that snark into banter. And people will see that you’re trying. I’m sure of it.”

“Wait, so I can be a raging bitch and still be a good person?” Chloé says. “Because that’s probably at least achievable within my lifetime.”

“Well, probably not a raging bitch,” Ladybug says. “But you don’t have to be sugary sweet. Just…work on being less nasty. It’s as simple as not being mean. Don’t say the mean thing you were going to say. Instead, turn it into a snarky half-compliment if you can. Baby steps. But you have to consistently try.”

“Okay, cool, so where do I start?” Chloé says. She groans when Ladybug raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? I have to apologise to Dupain-Cheng? You know I’m not gonna mean it, right?”

“It’s still good practice,” Ladybug says. “The more you do it, the more natural it’ll become. And I’m sure Marinette will recognise that you’re trying.”

“I hate apologising,” Chloé mutters. “But ugh, fine, I guess. Just don’t expect me to be nice about it.”

“I don’t think anyone expects you to be nice about it,” Ladybug says. “You just have to be good and genuine.”

“Okay, fine,” Chloé says. “I’ll turn myself into the jerk with a heart of gold trope.”

“I didn’t think you knew what a trope was.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Chloé says, though there’s a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there a minute ago. “I’m not a dumb blonde. I’m just a lesbian disaster.”

“Huh,” Ladybug says. “I didn’t know you were gay, Chloé.”

“Yeah, no one does. But you’re Ladybug. If there’s one person who won’t judge, it’s you.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.”

“Wait!” Chloé cries when Ladybug slides off her seat and unslings her yo-yo. “Where are you going?”

“I really need to get home,” Ladybug says. “School tomorrow, remember?”

“Ugh, fine,” Chloé says. “But come back whenever you want! You know I’d never turn you away, Ladybug!”

Maybe not Ladybug, but definitely Ladybug’s true identity. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Ladybug says. With a wave, she leaps off Chloé’s balcony and swings over the rooftops to the next street.

.

“Everything okay, Alya?” Marinette says when she tumbles into her seat the next morning and finds Alya staring off into the distance in a daze.

“Hm? Yeah! Fine!” Alya says quickly with a strange grin on her face. “Just a dream I had!”

Uh huh. Sure. A dream. God, how Marinette wishes she could smirk without letting on that she knows exactly what’s got Alya on cloud nine.

“Did someone, like, slip something in her cereal?” Nino says, twisting around to stare. Adrien follows suit, and his cheeks pinken for some reason when he smiles at Marinette.

“I have no idea,” Marinette says. “But she was fine yesterday, so I haven’t ruled it out.”

“Maybe she got to make out with Ladybug,” Adrien grins.

“God, I wish,” Alya sighs.

“You really think she’d be here if she did, dude?” Nino says. “She’d be at home screaming at me over the phone.”

“Nino, we’re adopting cats when we get married,” Alya says. Stars rush to fill Nino’s eyes at the m-word.

“At this point, I’m wondering why they don’t just sit together permanently,” Adrien says.

“Because they’d spend more time making out than doing schoolwork and we’re the only reason that doesn’t happen?” Marinette says. Adrien snorts.

“Where’s Ms B?” Alix complains from the other side of the classroom. “Is she, like, shaken up about yesterday?”

“You could possibly be a little more sensitive about it,” Nathaniel calls over. Alix flips him off with a cheerful smile.

“Um – about yesterday.” Everyone whips around to stare at the front, where Chloé’s standing in front of Ms Bustier’s desk with a grimace. “Thank…you all for sacrificing yourselves to save me. I know it was for Ladybug and not for me, but I’m still…grateful.” She looks at Sabrina and adds, “And I’d like to…apologise for using you as a shield from Zombizou’s kiss. You’re my best friend and I shouldn’t have done that.”

Nobody says anything. They’re probably all thinking the same thing: has Chloé been akumatised? Her next words don’t help that conspiracy theory.

“And I’m also…s-sorry for ruining your gift, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé forces out. “I’m sorry for lashing out like that because of my own issues. I should have apologised to you yesterday, not to Ms Bustier. It was just easier to say sorry to her instead of you.”

Huh. Chloé really had taken Ladybug’s words to heart. It’s the reminder that she’s Ladybug and she’s the one who’d nudged Chloé to do this that makes Marinette smile at her.

“Apology accepted, Chloé,” Marinette says. “I’m glad you’re still trying to be a better person. I know there’s good in everyone deep down.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to be smug about it,” Chloé snaps. Then she visibly takes a deep breath and clenches her fists. “I mean…thank you.” She rushes to sit down, not saying a thing when Sabrina starts pelting her with questions.

“Wow, Alya really is out of it.” Nino waves his hand in front of Alya’s face, but nothing shatters her goofy grin. “Chloé was just semi-human and nothing from Al.”

“Her love for Ladybug is just that strong,” Marinette grins.

“Ladybug? Where?” Alya blurts out. Nino reaches over to pat her hand.

“Nowhere, babe,” he says. “Just go back to your fantasies.”

“You’re a better man than me, bro,” Kim says.

“Oh, please,” Juleka scoffs. “Everyone has Ladybug on their freebie list.”

“No one has Chat Noir?” Adrien says as Marinette’s cheeks start to heat up at the knowledge that her entire class would apparently let her do them.

“You know I do, bro,” Nino says. Adrien’s eyes turn just as starry as Alya’s.

“Bro.”

“Same here,” Marinette says. “Ladybug’s cool and all, but she wouldn’t be half the hero she is without Chat Noir.” Plus, having herself on her freebie list would just be…weird.

“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just imply that Chat Noir can compare to Ladybug, for the sake of my redemption arc,” Chloé says loudly.

“Oh, I’d much prefer Chat Noir,” Lila says. Marinette resists the urge to roll her eyes at the sound of Lila’s voice. “Marinette was so right when she said that Ladybug would be nothing without him.”

“I didn’t say she’d be nothing.” No way is she letting Lila twist her words. “Just that she wouldn’t have a chance of saving Paris like she does without Chat Noir there to have her back. It’s a two-person job and even if she’s the only one who can fix Paris, she couldn’t cope without Chat Noir’s support. They’re a team.”

“Angels do exist,” Adrien murmurs, still starry-eyed.

“Aww, someone has a crush on Chat Noir,” Alix teases.

“What? No! Ridiculous that’s – don’t be silly!” Marinette babbles. The classroom goes so quiet that a mouse could fart and be heard clear as day.

“Oh my god, you do,” Alya says. Great, why can’t she be in a disaster pan daze when Marinette actually needs her to be in one? “And you didn’t even tell me?”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind!” Marinette says.

“This is so romantic!” Rose squeals. “He’s your knight in shining leather!”

“Rose!” Marinette wails. Evil, the lot of them, and she’s so not talking to her classmates ever again.

“What happened to your massive crush on Adrien?” Ivan says. Adrien throws his hands in the air.

“Could everyone else see it?” he cries.

“Yes,” choruses the entire class minus Lila and Chloé.

“Sorry, dude, you’re just dense as hell,” Nino says.

“Don’t make me revoke our bro-marriage,” Adrien threatens, and Nino’s eyes widen.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“It’s still there,” Marinette says in answer to Ivan’s question while Adrien and Nino hash out their little bro-fight. “Adrien was my first real crush and I think there’ll always be something there, but…it’s manageable now, you know?”

“This is the most disgusting sap I’ve ever heard,” Chloé says but without any malice in her voice, which is about as close to supportive as Chloé Bourgeois will probably ever get.

“Honestly, same,” Adrien says. When had he sorted out his bro issues with Nino? “I’ll always love Ladybug, and she’ll probably always be on this “freebie list” that everyone keeps talking about, but now…well, I think I realised it’d never happen.”

“Raise your hand if you’re in any way surprised to hear that Adrien was crushing on Ladybug,” Nathaniel says. If Adrien hadn’t told her so that one morning, Marinette would have been the only person in the class to raise her hand.

“I mean, you’re Adrien Agreste, so she probably would’ve tapped that,” Alix says.

“Alix!” Marinette and Adrien splutter. Alix shrugs.

“What? I’m just telling the truth. Literally everyone here’s been into Ladybug at some point. Nathaniel still draws gooey comics about Super Nathan and Ladybug.”

“Alix, I swear to god, I will stab you in the neck with this pencil,” Nathaniel says.

“Bring it on, tomato head,” Alix grins.

“Aren’t you aroace, though?” Mylène says.

“So?” Alix says. “She’s Ladybug. And I’m not totally aro when it comes to girls.”

“Yeah, which means all you bitches have to get in line behind me,” Chloé says.

“How about you go fuck yourself, Bourgeois?” Alix calls back down at her.

“Eat my entire arse, Kubdel.”

“Yeah, I’m sure this is exactly what we meant by being a good person,” Marinette jokes, seizing the change in subject with both hands like a lifeline so that she doesn’t have to keep hearing about how her classmates would do her alter ego.

“I’m becoming a better person, not turning into a saint, Dupain-Cheng.”

The classroom banter is interrupted by Ms Bustier finally entering the classroom, twenty minutes late. Everyone immediately shuts up and directs their attention to the front, no doubt remembering the events of yesterday after her akumatisation into Zombizou.

“Apologies for my tardiness, class,” Ms Bustier says with her usual smile, although there’s something a little strained about it if one looks too closely.

“Are you okay, Ms Bustier?” Max says. Marinette honestly resents him a little for having been able to largely avoid the classroom drama that had gone on just moments before with whatever device he was tinkering with.

“I’m fantastic, Max!” Ms Bustier beams. “What would make you think otherwise?”

Everyone looks around at each other, seeming to come to an unspoken agreement.

“That’s it,” Mylène says.

“Self-care time!” Rose says.

“Yay, meditation!” Kim adds as they all swarm around Ms Bustier. Even Chloé and Sabrina join them.

“You just want to fall asleep and not get in trouble for it,” Max scoffs. He visibly gulps when Kim sticks his tongue out and elbows him.

“Oh – class – I don’t –”

“You’ve done so much for us, Ms Bustier,” Lila says. “Even me, and I’ve only been here for a few months. Let us take care of you for a bit!”

Ms Bustier’s eyes fill with tears when she takes in her swarmed students. “You’re the best class I could have ever asked for,” she says shakily.

“You’re the best teacher we could’ve asked for,” Marinette says. Ms Bustier’s smile dims a little.

“That’s not quite true,” she says. “I was unfair to you yesterday, Marinette. I put the responsibility of being the better person on the one harmed instead of the one doing the harm, and I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if you had been akumatised because of me.”

“Wait, that akuma was for Marinette?” Juleka gasps. “But Marinette never gets akumatised!”

“And you took it for her?” Nino says. “Dude, you really are the best!”

“Thanks for your apology, Ms Bustier,” Marinette says. Honestly, having someone actually stop and take a minute to see just why she had been so frustrated shouldn’t be such a surprise, but that’s probably what happens after years of her bully bribing and pushing everyone around while the adults look the other way. “And Nino’s right: you really are the best teacher! If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have apologised just now.”

Ms Bustier’s smile this time as she wipes her eyes is one hundred percent genuine. “Thank you, Marinette. That means a lot.”

“I mean, I suppose I can arrange a spa session for you this weekend as a late birthday gift,” Chloé says, tapping away on her phone. “Even teachers need breaks too, I guess.”

“That’s…very nice of you, Chloé,” Ms Bustier says with a proud little smile. Chloé shrugs.

“What can I say? I’m the new Mother Teresa.”

“You do know that Mother Teresa provided subpar care to her patients, managed her charity funds rather suspiciously, and forced her colonialism on her patients to make them convert to Catholicism, right?” Max says.

“Hey, I guess Chloé’s just got really good self-awareness,” Alix grins. Chloé rolls her eyes.

“I repeat: eat my arse, Kubdel.”

“Make me, Bourgeois.”

“If this turns out to be the new Adrienette of the class, I swear to god,” Alya mutters.

“Wait, the new what?” Marinette and Adrien exclaim.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #aotq fic #aotq: hold me #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #miracuclass #djwifi #hint of chlolix #chloe redemption #well #she's on her way there #pansexual alya cesaire #bisexual nino lahiffe #lesbian chloe bourgeois #asexual alix kubdel #greyromantic alix kubdel #again #no one is straight here #and everyone wants to do ladybug

[lookwhatilost]

breadtube types love to think that every proud boy kind of dude was, at some point, 1 good conversation away from leaning left at some angle, fully ignoring the elephant in the room – their dad's failing small business they feel entitled to inherit bc they're NOT working class.

to me, the big question is why are the breadtubers so afraid of drawing a line in the sand? why are they afraid of the possibility (inevitability) of irreconcilable material interests? have they never worked fast food or retail? this shit is so obvious. nazis are pretty much all rich. and if they're not "cash rich" they're property rich, which actually is not a lesser kind of rich. they stand to inherit something, a business or some rentals etc. if they're not part of haute bourgeoisie they're part of petit bourgeoisie which, it turns out, is still the bourgeoisie.

idk why i expose myself to this garbage. i hate anything even marginally sympathetic to these pieces of shit. if a white person whose only difference from them is sexual orientation & gender can turn out like me, it's pretty clear what the problem is so fuck any angle on how they're actually innocent uwu. ultimately i find it so offensive & fash-sympathetic (thus fascist) to say only thing separating me from them is ideology. yeah okay w/e we're all cis people etc, but they dnt work for a living, and if you ignore that shit you legitimize their framing of themselves as normal. if you rly want to pull people in that minuscule population of fence-riders leftwards in a meaningful sense you'd make them confront the fact that their class is condemned to die by history & their only hope is to betray it. if they can't agree to that, what use are they to us?

the lack of instrumental thinking is epidemic in rhetoric-obsessed communities. what utility comes from delivering another slur-vomiting cracker parroting chan memes to The Left? we have to constantly police the mf? we hold his hand until he predictably becomes an "ex-sjw"? sometimes (usually) the people who are engaged and on the border enough that they "might" have "potentially" become reluctant communists are best used as fertilizer for the gardens that provide employment to the people we serve who never ever considered being goddamn nazis.

if you insist on climbing all the way down into hell to rescue a few of the demons, you simply cannot come back to earth pretending you brought us angels, much less that you have not experienced, yourself, why they wanted to be in hell. it's silly vestigial christian cultural bullshit to see any kind of value in rescuing a fascist from themself. in practical reality, you are simply forcing naturally decent people to put up with indefinite burden of a whiny shit whose life helps working ppl less than their death. happy to agree that "privilege" analysis provides a decent framework for priority. all else being equal a more marginalized person makes for a "more revolutionary" leader, etc. this is not reconcilable with the opinion that we should recruit reluctant defectors from enemy classes as active members, much less leaders, of our orgs. idk where the pathological desire to win the enemy over comes from but it is absolutely suicidal. regardless of the organization in question, any people who joined it reluctantly should be paying their dues, not defining the agenda

you could prob convince Logic/Reason Leftists of practical immutability of material interest if you had data on nazis being wealthy but of course they trust nazis' self-reporting & nazis always do stonetoss shit linking their own lawyer-son asses to off-color construction workers. and i’m using using "nazi" ~liberally~ in this offhand opinion, bc to me, any settler-colonial fascist is a nazi, and anything that would make them "more like", idk, an italian neo-fascist, is mostly a reminder of how bad the italians failed at their settler-colonial aims, so who gives a fuck.

thanks for reading or at least tolerating the existence of this rambling stream of consciousness. i would have written a real essay with sources and arguments for everyone's edification, but i have neither the capacity for focus to write one nor the desire to publish it.

(for reference, here is a commonly-recommended video that exemplifies the empathetic zoological economically-agnostic oh-shucks-he's-just-a-sad-normal-white-boy-he-is narrative of how a young man in north america becomes a literal brownshirt nazi)

note specifically where the narrator talks abt how "far right thought leaders" may not "see themselves as" or "intend to become" such "far right thought leaders" but are ~merely~ shills for consumer products "incidentally" popular among "alt-righters". also key to this video's reconstruction of online fascist indoctrination is "politics as a set of affects, not a set of beliefs", as thought "affects" of online nazis like stefan molyneux, blaire white, etc are universally disarming, that they wouldn't seem "off" to "normal" ppl. this necessarily defines "normal" people as people in a position to ~discover blatantly white nationalist arguments w unblemished curiosity, people w no awareness of the existence of white nationalism per se - i.e. it accepts as ~normal those "white people w only white friends". the creator also describes a feedback loop wherein grifters become "radicalized" by audiences, chasing engagement etc. this is bullshit, obviously. they're not children. they're grown-ass fascists full of superficial hatred w economic bases, who should be in re-education camps at best.

at several points in nominally(?) anti-fascist narrative of "gabe" narrator describes communities where "minorities" are welcomed insofar as they avoid "identity politics". i get maybe some people can't relate to psychology of fascists but such description can only normalize it. this description necessarily frames addressing of issues of e.g. representation that affect such minorities within such interest communities as something that genuinely, in some sense, diverges from the status quo. as though at some point their marginalization was uncontroversial.

like clockwork, this angle on "alt-right" takes as axiom that communities from which "alt-right" recruits were 1st non-ideological, that fascists represent incursion of ideology &, by implication, so do ppl they oppose. political battle encroaches on something magically apolitical.

later, the creator says 

nazis act "apolitical", dropping hints to divide "our community" from "the left" 

"the left" says "you have a nazi problem, y'all" 

nazis say "jfc have you seen this? they're calling us all nazis for liking thing" 

 how stupid do you think ppl are, dude

from this perspective, communities of consumer interest have some kind of linear basis, origin, development, etc. problem here is that they absolutely dnt. they're continuous & amorphous. also this is obv abt gamers/gg & plenty of us who "played games" had no hate for zoë quinn

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

Wheels Set In Motion, Ch 1.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: As the situation in New Ham takes a dark, mysterious turn, Campbell is faced with a threat he never saw coming. With few allies and the past coming back to haunt him, he is forced to deal with a world that is crumbling fast, and choices with grim consequences.

Rating: Explicit.

Tags: Minor Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Addiction Recovery, Unhealthy Relationships, Teen Pregnancy, Past Rape/Non-con, Campbell Isn't The Dad, Brother Feels, Attempted Murder, Supernatural Elements, Gay Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 5654

Part Three || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || AO3

A day passed, then two. Grizz was gracious enough to take care of Campbell. He kept an eye on him when he could, making sure to let him have time to go to the bathroom, stretch, get food and water, and he gave Campbell a pillow to lean his head on at night. Luke and Clark took shifts when Grizz needed a break, and they were far less accommodating. They put water inches away from where he could reach, laughing while watching him struggle.

"Knock it off," Grizz snapped when he saw it happen. That was the last time they tried it. "Christ. I'm sorry." Campbell fought against the burning, sharp feeling in his chest. "It's whatever. They just need some way to feel powerful. Fucking wimps." Grizz didn't argue. Day two oozed by, and Campbell's shoulder had gone from aching, to throbbing and painful, to numb. His legs cramped and he was dizzy from a lack of sleep. Thankfully, Allie decided to visit him that evening. For a moment, Campbell had hope that she was letting him free; that hope evaporated when he saw the look in her eyes. "Allie, it's been days. Is all this really necessary?" he still tried, jiggling the handcuff. "Just uncuff me and lock the door or whatever. I'm not gonna jump out the window." Sitting on the bed, Allie shrugged. "Maybe." "I'm going to get pressure sores or something." "Yeah. That's what we should be worried about." "It is. I had nothing to do with killing Cassandra." "That's all you have to say?" Campbell gave an exasperated groan. "What else is there? Goddamn it, Allie, this is ridiculous. Your sister and I were cousins. Family. We were friends." He gestured to the air. "Besides, what do you expect? Huh? I can't prove it didn't happen. Can he prove it did?" "I can't tell you that." "I've barely spoken to Dewey our whole lives. Harry doesn't even like him, not that I can remember, anyways. He's always been a fucking asshole who just hangs around for scraps." "Then why did he accuse you?" "Are you really that fucking dense? You know my reputation." Oh, she knew his reputation all too well. Allie's eyes blinked a little too fast. A nervous response. "Answer the question." "I was the most obvious pick. It was a desperate move. You asked him if he had help, didn't you?" Campbell leaned back against the radiator. Allie wasn't as outwardly icy as Cassandra, but she was equally ruthless. It was hidden under the surface, waiting for just enough power to roar to life. "What did you promise him if he named names? What did you say would happen, if he didn't?" "That has nothing to do with--" "It has everything to do with it. People will tell you anything if they think their life is in danger. Big fucking duh." "I need to know what happened that night. Just tell me." "He killed her. It's that simple." "Alone? Because I don't think so." Allie leaned forward. "If not you, then Harry." Campbell snorted. "Harry? No, no." "Then who?" "Are you asking for my opinion?" When Allie stood and began to pace, Campbell rolled his eyes. Oh, that was rich. She imprisoned him and then wanted his insight. "Harry's a scared little puppy. Too bold for him. Too much effort. He can barely get out of bed these days, and he didn't really hate Cassandra like that, anyways." "Who do you think did it, then?" Humoring her, Campbell gave the question some thought. He examined everyone on the party list, and even the town populace in general. He couldn't think of anyone else who would have been that desperate for Harry's approval. "No one. Dewey did it alone. Just an entitled white boy who hates strong women. Pretty much the story with any shooter." "Classic misogyny," Allie mumbled. She chewed on her thumbnail. "Was that really all it was?" Campbell tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but there wasn't one. Everywhere hurt. They hadn't let him have any visitors-- not even Sam-- and her was starting to go from bored to annoyed. If she hadn't chained him up like a rabid dog, maybe he'd have been more sympathetic, but the only one who had his sympathy was in the ground. Everyone else was just grinding on his last nerve, but he couldn't escape to calm down. "Allie, are you gonna let me go?" "I haven't decided yet." "But if I'm innocent--" Allie's mouth pulled into a little smirk. "You think so? Maybe you didn't do this, but that doesn't mean you're innocent." "You're joking." There was no way in hell she could just detain him for some personal grudge. He felt his adrenaline start to kick in, but goddamn it, all he could do was tug uselessly at the handcuff. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sitting back down, Allie rested her chin on her hand and stared at Campbell. "Are you scared of me?" A big mistake on her part, saying that. Campbell perked a little, stopping to analyze that question. Are you scared of me? She'd mistaken his desire to get the fuck away from her as fear. And she wanted him to be scared. She wanted him afraid of her... because she'd always been afraid of him. Hate, fear. It made people do terrible shit. Like, for example, threaten to keep one's cousin locked up-- or worse-- just because they'd been a prick. That, combined with Sam's story, must have made Allie afraid. Campbell smiled, relaxing into the handcuff and focusing his gaze on her. "You have no evidence against me. I didn't do shit, and you know it. So, let me guess. You're keeping me here because you're all scared of me." He grinned as her expression froze. "And, what? You finally have a way to deal with your Campbell problem? I'm guilty of being fucked up in the head, so I deserve to be locked up? Or worse? Is that it? I'm the kind of weirdo it's acceptable to pop in the head and get rid of." "I didn't say anything about killing anyone." He laughed. "Let's drop the act and stop being coy, Allie." Campbell's smile faded as he dug through his memory for every little bit of information he had on Allie, and her personality. Every little thing that made her weak. "The thing is, if you do that, you're gonna have to be the one to pull the trigger. That's how it is, as the leader. But you don't like to make tough choices, do you? You're not Cassandra." Her nose twitched in disgust. He had her. "Fuck you." "You can't kill me and not Dewey. That wouldn't make sense. So then you, you've killed two people. And Allie, you might be all kinds of fucked up, too. I don't know. But I do know you're not like me." "So what? I don't have to be." "Yeah, you do. How are you gonna sleep at night, knowing you're a murderer? Knowing that you killed your own family just because people are ignorant and afraid? Because you're ignorant and afraid?" "I..." "You'll never get rid of me, cousin. We'll visit you," he whispered as he leaned forward, close enough that he could see the tears springing up in her eyes. "Cassandra and I. Every night in your sleep." Allie swallowed, standing quickly and walking towards the bedroom door. She stopped, her hand on the doorknob. "Maybe I'll just have to live with that." But the calm in her voice faltered, and that was all he needed. Campbell chuckled, and Allie retreated out the door, shoving her way past Sam and heading downstairs. It was enough to soothe that ache in his chest, in his fingers, that commanded him to rip and tear and make her suffer. But then he saw Sam looking at him with that look, and Campbell felt the wind leave his sails just a touch. "Are you Plan B?" Campbell asked as Sam came in the room. "No. I'm not supposed to be in here." Sam sat next to Campbell on the floor. He tucked his knees up to his chest, and signed slowly. A small mercy, considering Campbell was operating on a total of twenty minutes of sleep. "I just wanted to see you." "You know I can't stay locked up like this." "I'm going to see what I can do. It just doesn't look very good right now." "If she decides to kill me..." Sam's signing turned sharp, angry. "I won't let her do that. I won't." "How do you plan to stop her?" "I'll get Grizz to let you go. I'll take you home, stay with you until she backs off." "Thanks for the sentiment." Campbell glanced at the watch on Sam's wrist. It was just past midnight. Day three had begun. "Go get some rest, Sam. You look almost as shitty as I do." Because he hadn't been sleeping, either, Campbell realized as Sam rubbed his face and gave a long, weary sigh. "Goodnight, Campbell." "Night, Sam." Campbell waited until Sam was gone before kicking over the empty soda can Grizz had brought in at dinner. It was bullshit. They locked him up for days without any proof at all, besides the words of a convicted murderer, chained to a radiator like a fucking animal. Allie outright threatened that she would keep him like that even if he didn't do it. And to put all that on not only him, but Sam? Sam was innocent. He didn't deserve to worry like that, especially not over Campbell; was Allie really that desperate for revenge? Sleep that night went the same way it had since he'd been arrested. Trying to get comfortable, but the metal of the handcuff chaffed and bit into his wrist, the radiator coils pushed into his neck and back and shoulders, and the hard wood floor made his hips ache. He could hear noise from other rooms. He could hear when everyone went to sleep, and then there was just silence. Silence, except for the creak of the floor outside his room when whoever was guarding him moved around. Creak. Campbell startled awake out of the half-sleep he'd just slipped into. He tried again. Ten minutes, twenty minutes went by. Creak. He woke up again. All night long, and eventually, Campbell gave up like he had before and settled into a sort of zoned-out trance. Grizz came by and made sure he had lunch. "It's nothing fancy," he said as he gave Campbell water, a cheese sandwich, and dried cranberries. "But I know you don't like meat and you're on prison rations until Allie makes up her mind." "How's that looking?" Campbell wondered, poking at the food. His own hand didn't even look real anymore. "Any progress?" "Not much. People are starting to whisper." "People have been whispering. They're starting to get pissed." Grizz peeked out the door. "I'm worried she's gonna lose it. People want answers, leadership, and I believe in her but she doesn't believe in herself. People are gonna notice that." "It's because she has to want it." "She doesn't want it." And there was the problem, right there. A teen girl suffering the loss of her big sister, forced to step into her shoes, with the responsibility of an entire society on her shoulders. Campbell knew what their family was like. The pressure there was to be perfect, to compete against one's sibling, to see one's parents pick a favorite when one couldn't live up to the high expectations. It was a lot to try and handle. Allie, forever in Cassandra's shadow, unable to be the perfect little baby that her parents wanted. Campbell could understand how it felt, but at this rate, she was gonna snap. And then someone would take things from her. Oh, no. What a shame. Except it would be, because everything Cassandra worked for would be gone, if things landed into the hands of the wrong person. There were footsteps on the stairs, and Grizz ducked back out of the room before they were seen talking. Luke's voice rose up from outside, muffled. A better guard than Clark. Luke, at least, would come in every so often and ask Campbell if he needed anything. He still didn't stop Gordie from hovering near the door and glaring. Maybe if Allie didn't try and do him in, one of the others would. It wouldn't be surprising. What was surprising was, later that night, Campbell heard shouting from downstairs. Grizz had returned to his post at Campbell's room, but quickly shut the door once the yelling began. Campbell strained to hear, but he could only tell who was arguing, not so much what they were arguing about. He could hear Will and Luke, faintly, but Allie moreso. It didn't last long, whatever was happening. Soon, the door swung open and Allie stomped in, slamming the door behind her. "You're right." Campbell tensed as Allie sat down across from him. She looked angry, with her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. "What?" "I've been scared of you my whole life. And for just one second, I wanted you to know what that felt like." She crossed her arms. "But you didn't, did you?" "I'm not scared of you. I'm worried about what you might do." "And what did you think I was going to do?" "You know what I thought." Allie studied the floor. "I thought that maybe I'd keep you here, locked up, to teach you a lesson. Some people have told me it'd be easier to just get rid of you. That it'd be safer for you to be gone, before you actually do anything to hurt people." "And?" He kept his tone even, but he felt his heart begin to slam harder as his brain tried to figure some way out. "What did you decide?" Standing up, Allie reached into her pocket and pulled out a key. She unlocked the handcuffs and waited for Campbell to get to his feet. She latched onto his wrist and led him out the back door, away from where everyone else was. Allie opened the door and shoved him onto the back porch. "Get out." It hurt to walk, and his legs felt like lead and jello at the same time, but Campbell didn't wait around for her to change her mind. He didn't even think to text Elle or Harry; he just raced home as quick as he could. Campbell could hear the piano playing from inside. Who was that? The playing stopped when he entered the home. Elle's voice floated through the silence. "Who's there?" Campbell felt a wave of relief as he turned the corner and saw Elle. It was a new sensation. A little spark of joy, a feeling of being home and safe. She was there, and she was alright. They all were, for now. "I'm free." "How..." Elle stood, stammering. Her eyes were wide. "How did you get out?" "I didn't do anything, so she let me go." "Oh." Tilting his head, Campbell walked up to Elle and stroked her cheek. She looked more like a deer in the headlights than a concerned girlfriend. "Are you okay? I thought you'd be happy to see me." Elle threw her arms around Campbell's neck, burrowing her face into his shoulder. "I am! So much." She kissed his cheek, running her hands through his hair. "So much. We were so worried." We. Campbell glanced up, seeing movement behind Elle. Harry stood in the doorway of the room, dark circles under his eyes and a blanket curled tightly around his shoulders; he kept his distance, but once Elle had left for work, Harry followed him upstairs. Campbell knew it was inappropriate for Harry to sleep beside him, but Campbell was too tired to stop him. That was the excuse Campbell made for himself, anyways. Harry sunk his fingers into Campbell's shirt, nestling close. Campbell fell into a heavy sleep, finally comfortable in his own bed. When he woke up, Harry was still there, sniffling softly with red-rimmed eyes. He didn't seem to notice Campbell was awake. Not until Campbell lightly wrapped his arms arms around Harry, anyways; Harry jumped a little, but then leaned into the embrace. "I thought they were gonna..." His voice broke. "Fucking dicks." Campbell softened his voice. "Hey, it's okay. They didn't do anything to me. We're going to be okay now, alright? Everything is going to be okay." "How do you know that? If they try again--" "Then there will be hell to pay." Campbell knew it was an idle threat. If Allie and her minions came for him again, no one would be able to stop them. Elle and Harry didn't have enough power to stop them. Still, Harry relaxed a little at the words. "Trust me." Harry's mouth twitched at the corner. "Never." "Smart boy." The house was cooler than usual as the sun went down; clouds were forming, and there was a breeze, heralding the chance of rain. Campbell was loathe to move away from the warmth of their blankets and shared body heat, but Elle would be home soon and they had their own jobs to get to. Harry bit his lip and gave Campbell a look that was almost pleading-- not yet, just a few more moments-- but Campbell stood and threw on fresh clothing. He couldn't give in to the desire for closeness. Neither of them could, especially not now when tensions were already so high. Maybe once things calmed down... If they calmed down. Elle gave Campbell a quick peck on the cheek as they passed one another on the porch. Campbell was tempted to say fuck work, and just stay home with Elle to make some coffee and watch a movie, but he had to try to be on good behavior. He couldn't give Allie a reason to fuck around with him again. But it sucked, like it always sucked, and he was happy when it was time for dinner. Elle joined him and Harry for it, and after a bit of clean-up, they could go home. Campbell was glad to get home and finally get a shower, but a closer look in his closet revealed something that made him pause. He hadn't noticed before, but there was a familiar pair of jeans and a shirt hanging there that hadn't been there before. He knew, because those were the clothes he wore the night Charlie disappeared. There was still a trace of blood on the jeans. Neither Harry or Elle had asked about them. It could have been either of them that washed the things, but Harry's idea of putting clothes away was tossing them on a chair and hoping for the best. No, the meticulous one was Elle. "Hey, babe?" Campbell asked Elle when she came back to the bedroom. He held up the shirt and wiggled it. "Where'd you find these?" Elle gave them a quick glance before heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Under the bed. I did the laundry while you were gone." A pause. "There was blood on your jeans. Are you okay?" Fuck. Campbell followed her into the bathroom, kissing her shoulder. "Oh, yeah. It's just allergy season. I get nosebleeds sometimes. Sorry, I didn't want you to worry." She couldn't say anything with a mouth full of toothpaste, but Elle nodded. Campbell thought he saw a flicker of... something, but his eyelids felt like lead and his body was sluggish. He needed sleep, and Elle snuggled up to him just as close as usual, so what was there to worry about? He was just tired, and letting his disorder run off with him like it often did. He was home. He was safe. Campbell was just crawling out of bed when the text came in. Allie had made a decision; she was calling everyone to the church at 8am. Half an hour. Elle was already stumbling around getting dressed, and Harry had fallen asleep in the clothes he wore the day before, so they made it to the church with a handful of minutes to spare. They hadn't eaten. Elle looked like she wanted to be ill, and Harry was silent and shaking; neither looked hungry, and Campbell wasn't going to force himself, either. When they got to the church, Campbell stopped a few yards away. "Go in without me," he said. He remembered the shouts and cheers of the people when he got arrested. Campbell could picture their snide, smug faces in his mind. "I'll wait here." Harry stopped, while Elle went inside. "Are you sure you'll be alright out here?" "Of course." The real answer was actually of course not, and Harry knew this. Still. Harry followed Elle into the church; he was nothing if not obedient. Campbell tucked himself into a shaded spot, out of view, and waited. The air was thick and warm already, the start of a hot day. Campbell had just started to doze off when the church doors slammed open, and Dewey was dragged out kicking, screaming, cursing. Campbell only heard one sentence-- fuck you, you goddamn bitch-- before Dewey was stuffed into the guard's SUV. When Allie came out a few moments later, she looked stoic. The guard members at her side were less so. Grizz was hard to read, but there was a little wrinkle between his eyebrows, and Luke had his eyes fixed on the ground like somehow he wanted to sink into the concrete. Campbell stood and approached. Everyone but Grizz tensed, but Allie muttered something to her herd and they backed off. "Campbell," Allie said. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "You weren't at the meeting." Campbell shrugged. "Being there wouldn't have helped any, right? Anyways. Thought it'd be a good idea if I gave you some space this morning." "Then why are you here?" "For the same reason I was there for Cassandra. I knew it'd be hard for you." Allie stared hard at him, before turning her gaze a little over his shoulder. She was ashamed of her choice. Or, rather, of what she felt she had to do. "We're executing him tomorrow." "Solomon." Campbell tilted his head. The closer he looked at Allie, the more she looked away from him. "You're actually splitting the baby." That made her look at him. Allie pursed her lips, defiant. "I did it for Cassandra." "I know you did. I would have done the same thing." A dig, just to make Allie squirm. Campbell would have enjoyed the queasy look that flitted across her face, if it hadn't been about Cassandra. "Good luck." Maybe she sensed that he meant it, that good luck, because for a single heartbeat of time she looked at him like maybe he wasn't some sort of monster. But then she turned on her heels and headed off, with her lapdogs at her heels. A better reception than he expected, anyways. Campbell turned his attention to Elle and Harry, who emerged from the church and headed towards him. "I can't believe it," Harry mumbled. "She's really going through with it." Elle's lips were pressed into a thin line, but her tone was even. "So what?" She shrugged. "He murdered Cassandra. People who do terrible things deserve what they get." "Maybe, but..." Campbell walked a few paces ahead of them as they went home, trying to tune them out; it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. He knew that, in the end, what he said to Allie had almost been true. It was so very tempting to take the easy route, and Campbell was very sure that the death penalty was the easy route-- easier than having to watch over an inmate for fuck knew how long, anyways, and have him using up resources. That didn't mean he agreed with the death penalty, especially since Cassandra had been against it, and Campbell had heard all the arguments against it from her. In normal society, it didn't deter crime at all, it was more expensive than life without parole, and innocent people sometimes were killed. But this wasn't normal society. The society they were in now was tiny, brittle, and scared. Resources were finite. The guard was already stretched thin. Regardless of what Cassandra would have wanted, regardless of what should have been true and factual, they were playing by different rules now. He didn't care to hear moral debates about it. Most people didn't, it seemed like. Lunch, work, and dinner were quiet. Somber. There were some whispers, but it wasn't surprising that there was so much gossip. It was an execution. Campbell could see Harry sink further into himself with every comment, though; Campbell couldn't exactly offer him comfort, not with everyone else watching them like hawks. It seemed that even with Allie declaring them innocent-- or, well, not worth punishing-- people still were eager to find some excuse to condemn them. They were halfway home when Harry just... stopped. Campbell turned back, following Harry's line of sight. He was staring down the street, towards the spot Cassandra's body had been found. "It's my fault," Harry said. He sounded far away. Faint. "I killed them both." "What are you talking about?" "If I hadn't opened my fucking mouth, if I hadn't said what I did..." Campbell slid his hand under Harry's chin and turned his head so that Harry was looking at him. "No. You're not gonna do this. Just because someone says something fucked up doesn't mean someone else has the right to go murder someone over it." Campbell cut Harry off before he could protest. "It was Dewey's fault. He chose to do what he did." Harry gazed at Campbell, the pulled away and kept walking. He didn't say another word, not until they got home. Muttering to himself, Harry went to his room; Campbell followed, wondering what the hell was going on in Harry's mind this time. Harry dug out all the pills he had left, and a few bags of other drugs. Heading into the bathroom, Harry threw open the toilet, dropped the baggies in it, and flushed. They both stood there, watching the drugs vanish. Once they were completely gone, Harry looked up at Campbell. "Will you help me?" There was no question about it. Campbell went through the house and dumped all the alcohol down the drain. It pained Campbell a little. Some of the bottles were old, expensive, and it's not like he'd personally planned to go completely sober himself. Harry needed it, though. Harry needed Campbell and his support. Campbell was in no way sober, and never would be. He'd given up on that idea. But he could try to be, for Harry's sake; he knew what it was like to give up drugs, especially ones like cocaine, and Harry would need all the help he could get. "Thank you," Harry said when they were done. He frowned as he looked around the kitchen, as if unsure of what to do now that it was all gone. "I just... I can't anymore. You know?" "I know. It's gonna be hell for a while. Are you ready for that?" Harry shook his head. "No, but I can't go through this again, Cam. I don't have it in me. If I keep going on like this, one of these days I'll just..." He hesitated, then gave Campbell a weak smile. "Anyways. I think I'll go to bed." Campbell didn't want to leave. It was gonna be a rough night, and it was only going to be rougher for the next week or so. What if it was all a big show, and Harry was going to do something foolish the minute Campbell left him alone? It happened, sometimes. Professionals always said that it was when depressed people started acting better to worry most, because them being calm could be a sign that they'd decided to end their lives. Harry didn't seem calm, he just seemed ready to try and help himself. Still, if-- Harry was staring at him with a knowing look; he stepped closer, and leaned his forehead against Campbell's shoulder. Of course he'd seen the look on Campbell's face, and read it for what it was. He didn't say anything. Campbell didn't, either. It was a brief, wordless comfort, and then Harry ducked into his room and shut the door. Elle was in her pajamas by the time Campbell got upstairs. "Is everything okay?" she asked as she took her make-up off in the bathroom. "Sounded busy down there." "It's fine. Harry's decided he's gonna get off the drugs and the alcohol." Campbell sunk onto the bed and tossed his shirt into the laundry hamper in the corner. "I was helping him dump the alcohol in the house." "Really?" "Yeah, I mean, he kinda lives here now, too. I didn't want him to be tempted." Rinsing off her face, Elle turned off the bathroom light and flopped next to him in bed. "I guess it's a good idea. We don't really need alcohol. Too bad we couldn't have used it in the garden next spring though, to keep the slugs away." "Pretty sure Harry would have mainlined it all by then." "Good point." Campbell watched Elle as she fiddled with her necklace. Her hands kept slipping. "Do you need some help with that? Here." "It's okay," Elle said quickly, ducking away from his hands. "My hands were just damp still." "Are you feeling alright? You've seemed kind of on edge all day." "It's been a rough day, Campbell." "I know, I just... Do you wanna talk about it?" "No. I'll just be happy when it's over and we can move on." Elle tucked herself in and turned off her bedside lamp, but she stayed sitting up n the faint half-light, her eyes on Campbell. "You looked uncomfortable earlier. Don't you think people who hurt others deserve to be punished?" Campbell felt a cold trickle down his neck and spine. "What do you mean?" It was a strange question, and the fervid look in her eyes made him want to just stand up and leave the room. "Is this about us? Because I've been trying really hard to be better, and I know that doesn't change what happened before, but--" "I was just talking to Becca about it, during work." "Becca?" "She thinks it's true." "I don't doubt it. She's always been pretty passionate about her beliefs." Whatever he said, it triggered some sort of change in Elle's attitude. "Yeah." Rolling over, Elle laid down and pulled the blankets over her. "Sorry, I guess I just need some rest. Goodnight, Campbell." Campbell sat up a little longer, then laid down, too. Weird. Weird, but no one seemed to be getting good sleep lately. Maybe, after tomorrow, people would be less... whatever the hell was happening to people. He just wanted things to go back to how they were only a little while ago, sipping lemonade on their porch and admiring the work all three of them had done together. He just wanted to get his head right with Grizz's help, and try to heal things with Sam, and make sure Harry stayed safe and healthy. Campbell wanted to prove himself to Elle. All this death and murder and trial business was making people senseless. The phone rang at 4am. Picking it up, he slipped out of the bedroom and into the hall. "Hello?" "I can't do it." Allie's voice was strained. Whispering. Campbell shut the bedroom door, and headed across the hall to Elle's bathroom. "Too late for that, cousin. If you back out now, you'll look weak. Weak leaders don't survive long." "How can I?" Allie rasped. "How can I take someone's life?" Campbell sat down roughly on the bathroom floor, leaning back against the cool, tiled wall. "Not lightly. But we both watched Game of Thrones, Allie. You remember what Ned Stark said at the very beginning. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." "You're quoting a television show?" "Am I wrong?" A long silence, and a sniffle. "No. I guess not." "Well, then." Campbell traced the small cracks in the floor. He tried to think of something soothing, but there wasn't anything to say. "Do you want me to do it?" "Campbell." "Allie, answer the question. Do you want me to kill him for you? You and I could go out there together, without anyone else around. You don't have to even tell anyone it was me. No one would have to know." "You'd tell them." "I wouldn't." "Why? Why are you offering?" "Why are you calling?" "I..." Allie gulped. She didn't answer, not for a long while. "I don't know. I thought maybe... I guess I just wanted to talk to someone who wouldn't waver." "There you go, then." "I can't ask you to do it. I have to, don't I?" Campbell had never been close to Allie, and while the despair in her voice didn't stir any pity in him, he could acknowledge that it was a shit situation. "You passed down the sentence, Allie. You gotta swing the sword. Even if it fucking sucks." Allie let out a short, shaking breath, and hung up. Campbell waited for a few minutes, then got up and went back to bed. He didn't fall asleep. The best he could manage was laying down with his eyes closed, listening to Elle's soft snoring, and try to clear his mind of everything that had happened. Impossible, but he could sleep once it was over, done, and there was closure. Once it had been laid to rest, literally, everything would start to heal. A lie, probably, but it was a comfortable one.

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