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#women shouldn't have to wear make up every time they go outside. women shouldn't be expected to do all housework.
cakemoney · 27 days
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i don't want to put my uninformed foot in my mouth or get involved with the Discourse but i've been seeing the two extremes of reactions to the korean low birth rates issue (on tumblr and twitter both) and i'm just kind of like. look. i feel like "low birth rates (in many countries but especially japan and korea as part of this conversation) are more broadly the result of capitalism/a culture of overwhelming overwork that makes social relationships and having families incredibly inaccessible to young people" and "low birth rates are very much a part of the current conversation about misogyny and social expectations for women in korea especially in the context of reproduction as 'unpaid labor' for women" are statements that can both be true
#laughs awkwardly#gender#especially considering the ways patriarchal expectations and capitalism very much intersect in terms of quality of life for women#ex. women being expected to have kids / raise kids / do all the housework and cooking in a relationship#while ALSO existing in a society where women (even married women) have to work demanding jobs to deal with the high cost of living#AND women are systemically discriminated against in terms of pay / job availability / work environment and harassment#all of these things add up. these conversations are not opposing points of view. you know?#and also like. not super comfortable with how TERFs are discussed in terms of non-white cultures#TERFism / radfems as a MOVEMENT (and a cult) is very much rooted in white supremacy / ideals of womanhood#again. multiple things can be true at the same time. yes i do see (from my perspective involved in taiwanese social media)#some east asian feminists engage in transphobia in ways that approach radfem rhetoric ('women are victims of men' 'men are predators'#type generalized sentiments which you can imagine gains a lot of traction among women traumatized by patriarchy)#but movement-wise i don't think it's fair (or just in good faith) to generalize radical feminists from non-white countries#to straight up TERFs. which again. rooted in white supremacy. keep feeling like i have to remind people it doesn't make sense#for asians to be white supremacists and that not all oppression on earth stems directly from white people. you weirdos#'what are you talking about' in east asia the type of feminist statements called 'radical' are stuff like.#women shouldn't have to wear make up every time they go outside. women shouldn't be expected to do all housework.#should men pay for women on dates. debates that i think in the states we kind of take for granted as stuff settled years ago#even if some feminists might be transphobic it's not necessarily Transphobia As Core Tenets Of The Movement. does anyone get the difference#basically what i'm saying is. wow these tags got long. maybe let's not apply uniform standards of 'correct language and values'#to non-white people and attack them when as all movements they are fluid and influenced by the people living in it#TERF-style transphobia is not the predestined course for them. maybe it's more productive to have open discussions about transphobia#to work towards inclusivity and solidarity in these movements than to prescribe White Internet Morality to them#and declare that they're evil when they are still very much having conversations that need to be had. thanks i think that's all#essentially. i find that 'how dare a non-american movement not have morally pristine vocabulary priorities and membership#as determined by white leftists' to be in itself kinda a racist attitude
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lovesickry · 8 months
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- let the light in.
┈⋆⭒ lando norris x rival femdriver!reader [2.3k] ┈⋆⭒ prologue !
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ find all parts here! ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contains: swearing .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: this is an enemies/rivals to lovers and I am so incredibly excited to write this so here's the prologue. :)
2022 season, driver for Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team.
You hadn't had a problem with Lando Norris. You weren't friends by any means but you used to smile at him, give him a pat on the back when he did well on the weekend. You used to scoff at some of his sly jokes he made to reporters. You used to be polite acquaintances. That was until the moment you saw something in him you despised. Something that you saw as unforgivable.
-MIAMI GRAND PRIX 2022
You were on pole. 
You were actually on pole. 
For the first time in your career you had taken pole.
The feeling was something incomparable to just about anything you’d ever experienced. 
Stepping out of the car, having everyone congratulate you as you beamed, walking to the media pen for post-qualifying interviews smiling like an idiot. It was your first pole in your career and it warranted something to talk about. Though it had taken years for the interviewers to not comment on your gender, you relished in the fact that not a single interview today had asked about how it felt to have long hair or if it was uncomfortable wearing a racing suit and also having tits. Or how it felt that your competitors would always have a “biological advantage”. There was not one single comment made even similar to the quietly yet blatantly sexist comments you were so used to receiving and combatting. These interviews as pleasant as they were remained about the car, about the race and about the track. Things you loved to talk about when people actually listened. You look back at Carlos and Charles and they both whisper congratulations mid-interview. Miami definitely wasn't your favourite, the track was alright but what you hated the most (nevermind sounding stuck up) were the fans or atleast some of them. You'd already had too many shit experiences with middle aged white men telling you that Mercedes was a team purely for “show” or that they shouldn't make formula one a “political” sport. Are you fucking joking? 
On the other hand, all the women you met were lovely, telling you how proud they were, how amazing you were. But all the men, oh they would either compliment you or insult you, both were equally uncomfortable experiences. Nevertheless, it was something you’ve sadly gotten used to and something you refused to dwell on this weekend. Your pace was superb, you had got pole after all and the idea that a win was in the books was one that kept you awake that night. Although needing the sleep just as bad.
The morning brought a wave of heavily suspected nerves, your hands were shaking annoyingly and you kept having to hide the fact from the cameras, so as to not make a story out of it, something that you inwardly (and outwardly) despised journalists about. Their ability to stick their nose in things so clearly marked “Keep Out!” You'd already seen about seven articles this year, making up some bogus story about how you and charles were secretly dating or some weird romantic trope, getting all these photos of friendly interactions and marking it up to PR interactions and we were secretly dating. It was funny actually, the lengths people would go to just to somehow justify their hate for you. At Least if you were dating a driver they could say you were only in the sport because, oh how did Christian Horner put it. “The drivers are good looking.” Which is exactly why you’d made sure to stay strictly friends with every single one, dating completely and totally outside the Formula 1 fucked up family circle. 
As the media commitments finally wrapped up and you did the final interviews before being let go to prepare for the race you bumped into Alex, you admired him as a driver and he was always kind to you, he wished you good luck and congratulated you on your first pole before excusing himself to be escorted to the Williams garage. As you said, you were friendly with most of the drivers. You reach your drivers room and let out a sigh of relief seeing your physio standing there already. You do some quick warmups, stretches exercises before she asks if anything is hurting. You mention a point in your lower back in which she focuses on and does a few different methods on relieving some of the pain before you need to get in the car. You weigh in and settle into the car, brain fuzzed and hands though not shaking were sweaty and your heart was beating so loud you thought you might die, the sound feeling as though it was echoing around your helmet. Checking through the last thing with the engineers, suddenly you were alone on the track, open track ahead of you for the first time, you were starting alongside Max, who you knew was heavily tarnishing your chance of a win, but there was still the hope for a better start and better strategy. Maybe just maybe you could keep him behind? 
Formation lap, returning back to your places, you were doing what you were taught, think of nothing, think of nothing, close the door, close the door. Close the door. Breath, you dont dare to blink as you watch the lights one by one before they all go off. Zooming off into the first corner your mind is blank as you like it and you are focused. You’re aware of your jaw tensing as you keep max behind going into turn 8. Your engineer is giving you lap by lap updates but its not helping as you push and push to keep him barely 1.2 seconds behind. You managed the pace but you noticed going into lap 23 that the rear tires were sliding, feeling it through turn 14 and 15 as you glimpsed max in your mirrors just as you swerved slightly. You were still in the lead however and feeling confident enough that pitting know and losing places would just mean others pitting later. You mention on the radio about the rears and they tell you to watch the tire deg for a few more laps and then they’ll bring you in. you reply in a quick yes before racking your brain on how the fuck youre going to handle these for another “few” laps. Not surprisingly max overtakes you on the next lap at turn 10 and you immediately opt to pit. You exit the pit lane acutely aware of the position you will come out in. P10, great. The tires took what felt like years to finally heat up and for you to actually start gaining positions but once you gained one, it all fell into place. The undercut had worked as everyone stopped to pit for fresh tires you gained time and on the 38th lap you’d found yourself right back in p2, comfortably looking at the rear wing of max verstappen who was yet to pit as he started on the hard not the mediums. But, you figured he'd be feeling the rears go soon and you could just wait it out but also, as you were reminded by your race engineer: manage paceand defend behind. Going into the 39th lap you watched as verstappen pulled into the pit lane and your jaw for the first time in nearly 40 laps, relaxed. If you could just keep the tires until the end this was yours. Your engineer alerted you that max had come out in p11 and although he was on mediums, it would still take him what they estimated to be 12 laps to reach the top pack again. Currently you were driving steady, your gaze was forward and you remained ahead by 2.3 seconds, an honourable lead but you could always push. The straights seemed to test the car more as Charles gained 0.8 in the straight but lost that same time almost immediately in the corners. Going into lap 49 your engineer alerted of the gap between you and p2,3,4 and 5. It was only 3 seconds. fuck , fuck fuck. Verstappen was still climbing and you were still losing grip with 8 laps left could you seriously make these shitty tires last, your questioned was answered as you grazed the wall coming out of turn 2, your rear tires simply giving out as you righted the car. 
“Did you just see that?”
“Yes we did” “What can I do? I'm losing grip”
“Norris is .9 behind”
“Yeah alright thanks”
No help, cool. But now norris was behind, what happened to Charles. Aw what the fuck these tires were shit and the only hope was the brief 5 laps, however they seemed to be stretching out hopelessly as you locked up again and again. It was nearly undriveable approaching the 54th lap.
“Norris is .7 behind, he has been advised to overtake”
You don’t bother to respond, you’re trying to figure out how the fuck to still win this race, focusing all your will power into defense now as the McLaren inches dangerously closer to your rear wing. You’re cautious as you follow the racing line through turn 11, but your brain clocks out the minute that you glance in the mirror and see Lando Norris’ wheel impossibly close to yours as he attempts an overtake on the outside. You pray for no contact and it's futile, all the fucking effort you put in and the tire management was all fucking useless, because thanks to Lando Norris and his bullshit strategy and sheer fucking selfishness he hits your rear wheel sending you into straight into the barrier. What should’ve been your first win in formula one was made into a fucking joke as you watched the McLaren drive off unopposed. There were simply no words to describe the sheer anger you felt, your jaw tensed again, your teeth fucking shook and suddenly you wanted to cry. You knew you shouldn't.
Reminding yourself of where you were, you lifted your head up, being met with the red and yellow of the barrier.
“Are you okay?”
You have nothing to say, afraid your voice might break or you'll scream. You reach out and lift yourself out of the car.
Nothing could've prepared you for the red that filled your vision as you watched Lando Norris lift up that first place trophy that should've been yours.
Of course you were jealous but you weren't just that. You were fucking furious. Not only had he crashed into you, ruining your race. He had blamed it all on you, in a post race interview he said-
"yeah, no. I mean I don't think anyone is to blame but I also think she was in a position where she should have let me by and when she braked late she sent her wheel into mine."
A fucking lie. nobody is to blame? maybe the person who actually hit your fucking wheel maybe, the person trying to steal my fucking racing line maybe? There was no fucking consoling you as you made your way as quietly as you could to the McLaren garage, at least hoping for an apology. You spot him talking to Carlos and you go over, initially only facing Carlos, congratulating him on his points before turning to Lando, who is standing there with a smug look on your face. You want to punch him.
"I'm sorry about how your race ended Dylan, I really thought you had this one" Carlos sounded genuine and he rubbed your shoulder while he said it. It was a nice thing to say but you were acutely aware of Lando's presence.
"Thanks Carlos" I nod
"sorry but do you think I could speak to Lando alone please?"
he nods and walks off as Lando outwardly groans, you turn towards him and wait. For anything.
"Nothing? Really?"
he raises his eyebrows "What?"
Your nostrils flare and you swallow as you try to fathom this.
"No fucking apology Norris?" its not the most polite thing, but its the most polite things on a list of things to say to him.
he pouts his lips jokingly and then pops his lips.
"Nup."
That's it, something in your brain fizzles over, you're as angry as you can contain and you just stand there stoic looking at his smug fucking face as he holds what should've been your trophy. There is a bitter taste in your mouth as you smile out of sheer disbelief, an unnerving smile before leaning forward to whisper in his ear.
"I didn't brake late and you fucking know it"
You ignored the way his lips twitched into a kind of twisted smile or the way he went to respond before you walked away.
As you walk away from him your breathing is shallow and fast, he doesn’t try and argue with you and you are still fuming as you reach the hotel and try to sleep. Ending up on the treadmill, running until you couldn't be angry anymore but the minute you stopped it all came flooding back, blood on fire again and you were back in those fucking barriers. Your jaw tensed, you would never ever look in the direction of Lando fucking Norris again.
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pomegranate-pen · 2 years
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as an Iranian, I feel like I cannot stay quiet about this issue and must speak about it, women in Iran have been abused, disrespected, and killed for many years and I hate how much fear I feel every day for my family, friends and all the women that live in this country with me. this shouldn't be the norm. we shouldn't feel fear every day of our lives, we should not be forced to wear hijab and we have the right to be treated way better than this. My heart goes out to the family of Jîna ( Mahsa) Amini, a young girl who has done nothing wrong and has been merely killed just because a goddamn scarf wasn't around her head. right now they've shut off the internet. in the city I live in the internet gets shut off every night around 7-8 pm and comes back up right around midnight or later in the day. during this time I've decided to watch the regular Iranian channels (IRIB TV) to see what they're speaking about and what they're saying is making my blood boil. they've been editing clips of protestors on the street, making it look like they've been the violent ones while when you search for the video online, the full clips shows you that they were defending themselves against the morality police that were attacking them. they're lying right in front of our faces with no shame whatsoever. it's disgusting.
if you want to help in any way, please share as much as you can about this situation and use the #mahsaamini so more attention is brought up to this issue. this isn't a one-time thing that has happened, this has been happening for more than 40 years. it has to end.
in Iran, we all feel stuck. we feel suffocated. we cannot go outside without wearing something that hides all of our body, because we will be killed. we cannot go outside and openly be a part of the LGBTQ+, because we will be killed. we cannot even protest without many deaths happening along the way.
be our voice, and share our story.
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Jason Voorhees/F!Darling: First Love
Because Jason is triggered into killing if he sees people having sex, and because his one real positive figure is his mom Pamela, I think he'd only develop an obsession for a Darling in a very specific circumstance. Like I'm imagining her coddling him and talking about how he'll grow up into a handsome young man, and that ALL the girls will probably faint at the sight of him (ironically, she would be right). But that he shouldn't be so sinful and lustful about it! No, no. Only a woman like her can be her precious Jason's wife. Most women are rotten little harlots. He needs to look for a girl who's kind, gentle, not at all sinful, and who would make a good momma just like her.
Pamela never liked talking about Jason's father, but she did say that Jason is a million times better than he ever was. One day he came back to the house with a fistful of flowers and she just about cried from happiness (after he drowned, she kept them hung upside down in her house so that they would always last). Or when he would shuffle to try and open the door for her, she'd praise him for being such a chivalrous little man. So years later, when he sees a woman sitting by the lake one autumn, drawing or writing and enjoying the same scenery his mother loved, he can't help but stare from afar.
He stalks her throughout the day until seeing her come back to a section of the woods closer to one of the main roads leading to the ruins of the camp. These prefab cabins were originally meant to be a tasteless tourist trap for curious ghost hunters after the first set of murders, but were quickly abandoned after Jason was revealed to be very real, VERY dangerous, and the surrounding real estate becoming very unprofitable due to the high murder rate.
When he peeks inside, he sees the woman talking on a landline and listens in.
"Hey Mom, it's me. I'm back in the cabin--no, I'm alright, I swear! I told you, whatever Jason is, he won't be interested in anyone not wearing a camp counselor's uniform. I'm just here for a cheap summer vacation, some alone time, and some inspiration. Something about being somewhere so serene while knowing the brutal history behind it is...well, I hope it sparks something." She settles down on the couch and continues to chat with her mother, never noticing Jason eavesdropping as night starts to fall.
"I'm not going out there at night, I promise. I mean I'm not superstitious, but I don't want to make you worry anymore than you already are, haha...Yes, Mama, I've been locking the doors every night....YES, Mama, I brought my pepper spray and my knife...Though if a ghost-zombie was gonna come at me, I don't think it'd do much--Mama, of COURSE I'm being responsible! I can't look out for my safety and make a joke? Ok, ok, I'm sorry." She smirks and curls up on the couch. "Though I'm pretty sure he doesn't kill virgins, so I should be fine if he shows up. We can chat about everything we have in common: lack of bedroom experience, lover of the wilderness, uber-protective moms..."
She holds the phone away from her ear as a loud angry outburst comes from the speaker. Her reply is deadpan. "Yes ma'am, I'll smack myself on the head since you aren't here to do it yourself." She lightly pats her head and yawns; the sound makes Jason think of the kittens he had played with when he was younger.
"I'm gonna head to bed. I'll call you in the morning, ok? Yeah, by 10 am, I promise. And when I head out, too. Yes ma'am, and no more smartass comments until I'm back home safe...Love you too, Mama."
Jason watches her put the phone back onto the receiver and then walk into another room. He skulks around the outside and sees her in a modest bedroom, taking off her socks and the rest of her clothes.
He cocks his head and stares, breathing heavily and feeling strangely warm. Whenever he saw the other fornicators at the camp, he'd never felt anything like this. A woman's body was just a body, and those wicked women's bodies were just there to be cut down. But this one wasn't wicked, at least he didn't think so yet. This one was...lovely. He couldn't stop staring, breathing, and feeling his belt strain against--
He heard his mother shriek in his ear. "JASON VOORHEES!"
He ducked down underneath the window frame and covered the eye slits of his mask. He wasn't being lustful, Mama! He was just admiring her, like a pretty flower. Maybe he can keep her, just like the flowers Mama had kept in the house. Something pretty and pure, all for himself.
"If you look at her like that, you'll defile her," Mama hissed. "You need to make her an honest woman first, like me. You aren't to look at her like that until you've courted her, put your ring on her finger, and made her your wife. And if you even think about something as disgusting as fornicating with her before you're married, you'll both burn in Hell, young man!"
He hesitantly moved back up to check if his Flower was decent, and saw that she was thankfully now wearing a set of pajama shorts and a faded t-shirt. When his eyes wandered to her exposed thighs, he quickly forced his gaze upwards to avoid another scolding from his mother. Flower shivered from the nighttime breeze whistling through a drafty corner of the room and she slips something else on over her head. Jason's eyes widen behind the mask--a cable-knit sweater, as soft and warm as her skin must be.
Just like his Mama.
She stretched her arms and for a moment, the way they're outstretched makes Jason think she really might be an angel. Once she turned out the lights in the living room and curled up in bed with a book, Jason set off into the forest to start courting her. He's going to make Mama so proud, marrying a pretty Flower and fulfilling that wish to become a Grandma. He's gonna be a good boy, a good beau, a good husband, and a good father...
The next morning, ____ made her first phonecall check-in of the day with her mother after breakfast and headed out for a day of hiking and relaxing by the lake again. When she opened the door and stepped outside, she stopped and froze as her foot landed on something damp and she heard a strange jangling sound from the doorknob. "What the fuck?"
The entire porch had been covered with handfuls of green pine needles and flowers yanked out of the ground, some with the roots and clumps of soil still attached. She looked at the doorknob and saw a loop of fishing line with various bits and bobs tied to it: beads from other random pieces of jewelry, bottlecaps, animal teeth, bird feathers, and a pendant in the middle made of bone. A small brown heart had been smudged onto it, and ____ prayed that it was just paint or muddy water.
She immediately ran back inside and slammed the door shut, locking all three locks and trying not to hyperventilate. Her chest tightened as she racked her brain for what to do--call the police? Yes. Definitely. Even if it's just a prank from some asshole locals or something, it's worth having someone with a gun coming around to look into it.
From the bushes nearby, Jason was watching her pace back and forth in the cabin while holding the phone.
"I already told you, it's Crystalside Cabins, Number 3," Flower said irritably. "It's on an unpaved road, it's about...I don't know, a quarter of a mile from the lake? I--yes, I know that pranks are common around here, but I would really appreciate it if an officer could come here and check things out...No laws broken, are you kidding me!? What if the bones on the necklace are from a corpse or something!?" She scoffed and listened to the officer, shaking her head in disbelief. "With this kind of incompetence, I'm surprised the body count in this town isn't even higher. Maybe Jason Voorhees and his mother started this up just to see if you'd get out of your chairs for something that wasn't a pie stolen from a windowsill or a cat stuck in a tree!" She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "No, ma'am, I'm not trivializing the work of suburban police officers--yes, ok, I know that local teens like to mess with people who visit the town, but I really don't feel safe knowing some strangers know I'm in this secluded location all by myself.."
She finally huffed and held a hand up. "Fine, fine, you'll make an official report and give it to someone. Great. I'll thank you now since my severed head won't be able to say it later, you've been such a great help. Don't strain yourself, wouldn't want to waste those tax dollars."
Jason looked at the necklace and bouquets left on the porch, and then back to his Flower. She didn't like his presents? Or maybe she was just scared. Most people were afraid of him, but she wasn't most people. She was his beau, but now she was upset and calling the police.
Flower crossed her arms and stared at the front door, chewing her bottom lip and wondering what to do. "It probably is just a prank," she muttered to herself. "Just some cheeky asshole kids trying to mess with a tourist." She took a few steps forward and opened the door, preparing to sweep away all the plants and throw away the creepy necklace, but she stopped just as her fingers curled around one of the beads. It was likely just a prank, but...maybe, on the scientifically impossible off-chance that this was the undead spirit/corpse of a serial killer...throwing away his creepy present would probably make him angry.
She stared at the necklace in her hand, almost holding her breath as she thought about what to do. "Fuck it," she sighed. "I'd rather be gullible and dumb in the eyes of some high schoolers than risk pissing off...whatever he's supposed to be." Reluctantly, she put the necklace on and headed back inside to slip her pepper spray and knife into her backpack before going out.
Jason's breath hitched when he saw his Flower wearing her present. She looked so pretty with it on. She liked it. She wanted him to court her. "Of course she does," Mama cooed. "A handsome, chivalrous, strong man like you? She's lucky to have my little boy's affections. Now go on back home now, Jason, you need to get everything ready for tonight when you bring her home to meet me."
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maiyami · 2 months
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𝓤𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓦𝓮 𝓜𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓐𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷
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Fantasy!AU Bakugou Katsuki X Female Reader
Minors Do Not Interact
All Characters Aged Up 21+
One-Shot Unedited
Warnings: Not many, mostly language.
About: Prince Katsuki is not the easiest to get along with. However, when the King and Queen put on a ball to find a suitable wife for the Prince...many find him suddenly the perfect guy. The Prince thinks nothing of this until his perfect match slips away from him.
The whole kingdom had to be inside the castle grounds by this time, well at least...all of the females within the kingdom. King and Queen Bakugou had made sure of it, made sure that every single woman attended the ball tonight. They were not getting any younger, they only had one heir. An heir who was hell-bent on keeping himself away from love and constantly on the battlefield. As much as they wanted to respect their son's choices, they knew that the kingdom needed their family. Needed to keep the Bakugou family running the kingdom to keep the peace. So by the gods, they were going to find a wife for their stubborn, ash-blonde son. Even if it was very much not to his liking.
He had spent all day being pampered and prepared for this ball, much to his distaste. He would have rather gone hunting or spent time training. Anything but getting into formal wear and being paraded around like a shiny new toy. With many long fights, language that shouldn't have been used, and a scrub down that he wouldn't even wish on his own enemies...here he was. Standing over the ballroom on the balcony looking down at the sea of women.
Sure, some of them had caught his eye. Many of them were beautiful, however as he watched. As he scanned the room and picked up on their personalities? He knew that none of them would be right for him. Some here just for the wealth his family has, some here just for the title of 'Princess', and some that were forced to be here. Somewhere deep down inside him, he was sickened by all of this. He was still young, still had time to find someone for him. Someone he picked for himself, but he knew that was just a dream. A dream that would not come true since all he wanted to do was get out of there and kill something.
It had been about two hours into the ball, no one single woman he had spent even a bit of time was worth it. And trust in this, he tried his damn hardest to find one aspect of even a small bit of attraction to every woman he spoke to. He was about to give up, slip away to his room. Maybe even go out to the woods like he wanted to in the first place. However, at the far end of the ballroom? He spotted you.
A woman, helping one of the servants upright so he didn't tip over the large plater of glasses in his palm. A woman who was smiling so brightly that it could have rivaled the moon in the sky tonight. A woman that took a good look around the ballroom and slipped outside. At first, he found it strange. Every female in the castle tonight was fawning over him so hard, just trying to get a moment of his time. But not you. You had not even remotely come near him, not even a passing glance. Katsuki would have noticed if you did, he noticed everyone. Then he became curious of you, wondering why you were going out that door. The door that led out into the gardens, so he decided to follow. Taking the secret stairway to make sure no one else came with him.
When he finally made it outside, he half expected you to be gone. To have disappeared into the night, but much to his excitement of what was happening, there you were.
The music from inside was faint out here, but that didn't stop you from dancing around the fountain at the center of the garden. The moonlight shone off your face as you made your way around the stone and water. So light on your feet that not a sound was heard, hair blowing through the soft breeze as you twirled and stepped. Almost as if you were dancing with a ghost, being led around the fountain.
Katsuki admired you for a moment, you looked so free. So one with yourself, but most of all? You looked beautiful. Your movements, the way your dress was flowing behind you, and the small smile on your face. He didn't know what came over him, but he was then by the fountain as you made your way around.
You hadn't noticed him, didn't even hear him approach your space. You only noticed him when you felt a hand on yours, then a hand on your waist. Your eyes opened immediately, a shocked expression over your features. It earned you a low chuckle, with a big toothy grin. Instead of pulling away from Katsuki, you laughed softly. Holding onto his hand now as he spun you around the fountain.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, my Prince." You said with a little strain in your voice, probably from all the dancing you had been doing. But it was like music to Katsuki's ears. He held you a little closer, slowing your dance down. So slow in fact, that it was mostly swaying at this point. He wanted to have a proper conversation with you.
"Pleasure is all my, mi'lady." He said back with such gravel in his voice, that it made you smile. "May I ask you a question?" He looked you right in your eyes, it was intense. It was as if he was looking into your soul with those crimson orbs he was so blessed with.
"Anything, my Prince." You looked right back into his eyes, making sure you were as respectful as you could be. Remembering all the lessons your mother taught you when speaking with royalty. You hoped you were making a good impression with Katsuki.
"Everyone is inside, but not you. Dancing among the stars and flowers. Tell me, why is that you are out here while everyone in there is trying to woe me?" He wasn't upset by any means, you could tell by the way his eyes were sparkling at you. He was actually curious, he wanted to see if you were someone worth spending the time on.
"I mean no disrespect, my Prince. There are so many lovely ladies here tonight, I thought I should not waste your time. You see, I am nothing but a farmer's daughter. I come from no royal blood, I have nothing. Why should I waste the time of a Prince who could do far better than I?" You said honestly, you only came because it was required of you. Sure, you have dreamt of finding the man of your dreams. Strong, handsome, a willpower so strong that it could outrank an army. But to you, that was all fantasy. "Also, the night is so beautiful. I thought it would be a shame to be inside the whole time. I have also never seen the stars so vibrant before, I was being selfish. I do apologize, my Prince."
Katsuki didn't know what to say, he also didn't understand. He couldn’t possibly understand how you could think you weren’t enough. How you thought you were the selfish one, wanting to come outside when this whole ball was for him. Just seeing you, being yourself was enough for him. You weren’t throwing yourself at him, saying sweet nothings, not trying to get in good with his parents. You were just being yourself. In the most pure form, he couldn’t understand how someone like you hadn’t come into his life sooner.
“No need to apologize, I am not offended in any way.” As the music changed to a different song, Katsuki spun you around slowly. “Truth be told, I never wanted this dumbass ball to begin with. My par- the King and Queen thought it might help me pick a wife. Stupid really.” He didn’t know why he was telling you this, but he felt like he could. “I am thankful you come out this way, I didn’t want to be in there much longer.”
“I see, a suitor for you. I understand where the King and Queen are coming from. However, I think finding someone on your own can be much more…fulfilling.” You smiled brightly at him, that same smile that you gave the help. But, you understood him. How it should be his choice when he was ready. Though, those thoughts were fading from him. The longer he danced with you, spoke with you. He thought he could do this for the rest of his life.
There was just something about your calmness. If he had to describe it, you were like the moon. Shining in the darkness, pulling him in with your light. Calmness while he looked at you, a feeling of home. While in the same breath, he felt like the ocean. The moon the only thing to calm him, but to keep him moving. It was different, something he never experienced before.
“Yeah…much more fulfilling indeed. Excuse my manners, it seems as so I left them inside. Prince Katsuki Bakugou, and you?” He wanted to know, he wanted to keep learning about you.
“My name is-” You went to say but the loud chime of the clock tower threw you off, almost scared you a bit. It was almost midnight, it was time for you leave. Promising your father that you would be home, to not worry him. Your eyes went wide was you looked back at Katsuki, stepping back and out of his hold. “I’m so sorry, my Prince. I must leave…I cannot be late home.” You said as you started to make your way through the garden, hair bouncing behind you as your pace quickened.
Katsuki was shocked, running after you. You couldn’t leave just yet, not when he felt like he’d never be whole if he let you go. “Wait!” He called after you, watching the way your dressed moved with how quick you were becoming. Just keeping up with you enough through the maze of the garden to see parts of your dress when you slipped past another corner. “Stop!”
He did catch up with you, grabbing onto your arm tightly. Not tight enough to hurt, just to keep you in place for a moment.
“Please, will I see you again? Can I see you again?” He questioned, his heart beating out of his chest. Katsuki Bakugou has felt many things in his short time on this earth, but nervousness was not one of those things. It wasn’t until the thought of never seeing you again hit him in the chest. He needed to be reassured you’d come back.
Your breath was hitched a little, a soft pant leaving your lips. You eyed the clock once more before moving out of his grip slightly. You pulled a chain off from around your neck, a little locket hanging from it. Getting onto your toes, you slipped it over Katsuki’s head. Making sure to tuck it under his vest, eyes trailing up the imported design before they met his eyes once again. Your gentle hands coming up to cup the sides of his face, bringing him down for a feather light kiss on the lips.
“Until we meet again, my Prince.” You said barely above a whisper, once again leaving him in his place. Slipping out of the back of the gardens and into the woods, out of sight in the darkness.
It took several long moments for Katsuki to move again, making his way back into the castle. Once inside, women started to flock towards his side. Instead of practiced smiles and words, they got glares and snarls. He was on a mission, moving through the ballroom. He approached his parents thrones, walking up to whisper into his father’s ear.
“Send everyone home, they are no longer needed.” Before his father could say anything, or his mother to scold him for being spoiled and that he can’t have everything his way, he spoke again.
“I have found the one for me and I can’t let her slip through my fingers.”
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elvisabutler · 1 year
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need a hand
summary: lazy mornings are few and far between with you and your boyfriend and they're supposed to be about the two of you. this particular one has been interrupted enough by his work that you take matters into your own hands- by using his. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m. pairing: austin butler x plus sized female reader word count: 1266 warnings: somewhat public sex ( someone is on the other end of a phone call ). fingering. implied/fade to black p in v sex. waxing poetic about austin's hands. author's note: this is the double dip for day thirty one: hand kink with austin butler. so after i had decided to go the professor route with day 31 i got an ask from an anon asking for hand kink for kinktober, now it was after i had already started, about midway through october but i was like you know what anon, you've given me a prompt and shit why not. hope you're still around anon and you like this. as for everyone else, hope you enjoy too and lord have mercy, i really only have one more double dip and we're done with kinktober. in december. gold star all of us. also saints preserve me if there's any typos. pretty sure i caught them all but who even knows.
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The thing you first noticed about Austin, beyond his blue eyes that you could drown in and his height and how he looked like every lanky tall boy you had ever fallen for in your life, was his hands. It makes sense that he has large hands because he's a rather large person, a rather tall person. So you should be used to it by now except you're not- you're pretty sure you're never going to get over how his hand actually spans a good portion of your entire ass cheek and each hand can hold a breast with an ease that not many men- or women- in your life had managed. You're pretty sure you're never going to get over how his hand could grab under your chin and force you to look up at him even when you're being bashful under his compliments of how you look like a goddess in your jumpsuit or in your dress or on one particularly memorable occasion, your pjs-a shirt that was far too oversized for him but he wore anyway just to get you to be able to say that you stole his shirt for your pjs.
The point is Austin's hands are a thing you mildly fixate on sometimes and in particular when he has rings on his fingers it makes it worse. You don't act instead choosing to spend your time saving the world one case at a time- or so you tell yourself- practicing law. It takes your mind off of the long stretches of time you don't have your boyfriend with you and- well you like to think even with him as your boyfriend and perhaps your future husband no one will mind when you go into politics with him by your side. Changing the world can only happen so much when you're on the outside, sometimes you have to get in the midst of things. He's finally home for a fair chunk of time despite him gearing up to fully hit the award season press junket. Bikeriders has wrapped and you for once have an entirely free weekend. He still has to do a virtual interview or two but it's fine.
At least you thought it was until one interview dragged into another and suddenly Austin is answering the phone yet again and you find yourself watching him. It's supposed to be a lazy morning so you're wearing the oversized shirt and nothing on underneath it as far as underwear goes. You watch as his hands gesticulate with the occasional glint of a ring you gave him on his left ring finger. God, his hands shouldn't do as much for you as they do and yet you find your legs falling open just a smidge as he continues to talk. Lazy mornings are meant for you and him to reconnect both emotionally and physically. Emotionally you were fine but physically in this moment you found that you were lacking, you could just start to touch yourself with your own hand but that felt so silly considering you were right next to your boyfriend who conveniently has one of his hands near your thigh. Your eyes focus on his face as you subtly grab his hand and move it up your thigh until you can feel his fingers start to press ever so gently against your cunt. He stutters for a moment before looking at you and down at his hand in confusion.
"Keep going." You mouth before you fully have his fingers inside of you. A sigh leaves your mouth at the sensation and you can see Austin biting his lip as he listens to whatever question the interviewer hsas on the other end of the line. You're wetter than you have any right to be with no real preparation but you'd like to blame that on being as attracted as you are to Austin that even the simple act of being near him like you are today that has you aroused. It's hard to figure out how to move Austin's hand in the way you would normally want it to be moving when he's doing it but you make it work. He gets the clue that you need some help and looks questioningly at you as if to ask if he can move his fingers only to have you nod.
His fingers curl and shift, brushing against your g-spot as you feel his thumb press against your clit, forcing a hiss out of you. He continues to talk to the interviewer as if nothing is happening though you can see his cock pressing against his boxers, a small wet spot forming on the fabric the longer the interview goes on and the longer his hand moves within you. Normally when Austin fingers you it's a bit of a quick affair, a means to an ends as far as foreplay goes but this- no this is you and him trying to get you off while he's preoccupied. You bite your lips trying to swallow your groans and moans as your toes curl. Austin's eyes narrow just a hair at one particularly loud noise that escapes your lips that has him apologizing to the person on the other end.
"Quiet." He mouths before his fingers continue their onslaught in your cunt. He puts the phone against his shoulder and leans his head onto it to keep it in place before he has the genius thought to put his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. It has the opposite effect though, as you groan around his fingers, your tongue swirling around the digits in a way that's reminiscent of how you suck his cock. You swear you hear the interviewer- or maybe it's Austin- apologize but your heartbeat is too busy rushing through your ears for you to register it fully. Instead, your body focuses on the feel of his calloused fingers against your clit, as he had abandoned just using his thumb to do it. The rubbing motion would be enough- feels like it's going to be enough before he practically yanks his fingers out of your mouth and grabs one of your breasts and just pinches the nipple at the same time as he rubs just so against your clit. Your teeth dig into your lower lip so hard you swear it's about to bleed with the force as you cum, your orgasm cascading over you as you shiver just a bit from the sheer force of it. At some point your eyes had shut and you open them to see Austin's chest rising and falling quicker than it had been. You see his cock peeking out from his boxers just a hair and you see his hands holding the phone.
"I hope to talk to you again soon as well! Call me later if you had any follow ups, I know that isn't protocol but you seem nice. Bye and thank you!" He finishes off the conversation with a flourish of the hand that had previously been on your breast before he looks at you, tossing the phone on his nightstand. The look he has reminds you of a predator seeking his prey, you should be scared but you're not, instead choosing to smirk.
"Ready for more, Mr. Butler?" You ask, moving to pull off your shirt before he stops you and pulls you closer to him allowing himself to squeeze your hip as his fingers dig into the ample flesh.
His lips catch yours in a bruising kiss before he answers. "My hands were just getting started, babe."
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kathaariawrites · 1 year
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Nights in Cádiz - Armando Salazar x Reader (Chapter 3)
I know I should be ashamed to come back and write another chapter as if nothing happened BUT at least I'm back so yay.
The dress I picture [Y/N] wearing here is this one. Also, because it's mentioned, here's a guide on the language of fans in the 18th century.
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As breakfast progressed, with stolen glances and smirks from your part, Armando felt his face flush. It was highly, highly inappropriate for a lady, specially this young, this joyful, to behave like this. He was her father's friend, he left for his last trip when her mom was pregnant. [Y/N] had her whole life ahead and shouldn't be giving her attention to him.
He looked at Lesaro for help but he only shot him knowing glances back and it made him frown. No, this would not do it. He excused himself and stood up, going for a walk outside the house. Fresh air, instead of the suffocating atmosphere inside.
Lesaro found him soon after.
"¿Dónde vás?", his voice made him pause. It was too easy to forget he was a commanding officer too.
"I need fresh air, Gui."
"I can see that. You're troubled today, Armando, and your face is showing it to everyone. ¿Qué pasa?"
Armando turned around then, a loud sigh leaving him. "It's the señorita, Gui. I...Diós."
Guillermo chuckled, approaching him with slow steps. He knew his friend too well, the same good old Armando from the Academy days in front of him now.
He remembers how Armando was, how he always has been. Passionate, intense, a handsome man who always let insecurities get the best of him on these matters. When they were young sailors, it would brew down to him thinking no respectable woman should be with him because of his father's actions. Then, as they rose ranks practically together, it extended to his capabilities, to him being away for too long and not wanting to hold a woman "hostage to his work", as he said.
Armando never planned on being a captain until Guillermo himself vouched for him. He would be a good one, and time proved him right at every possible instance, but at the cost of his own captaincy offer. Guillermo was a man of the crew, Armando was a man of command and it was the way it was supposed to be.
Being on so many different ships together, the deaths, La Maria and the curse, had brought them impossibly close together. They confided everything to each other. The young Armando who relucted in seeking comfort with brothel women in their stops was in front of him again, insecurity and fear shining in his deep eyes and Guillermo almost laughed at how unfitting it seemed to see this man, strong and stubborn, like this.
"What about her, amigo? You seem to be enjoying each other's company enough."
Armando blushed and Lesaro's eyebrows shot up as he said, "She showed up in my dream last night. We talked, Gui. She held my hand, not even flinching at my cursed face."
"Impossible. She never saw us cursed, never even been on La Maria. Armando, are you sure you simply didn't dream her being there?"
He shook his head, "No, ella estaba conmigo. She mentioned it today before breakfast, when I met her at the hall. No sé que hacer."
To say Lesaro was more amused than he should was an understatement, "Perhaps it is a sign, amigo."
Salazar squinted at him, "No te atrevas..."
"A sign your affections are mutual and you need to stop this nonsense and ask Hugo for her hand."
"¡Guillermo Lesaro!", Armando said, eyes going wide and face red. "¡No, absolutamente no!"
"Armando, we got another shot at life to make things right and be happy. If it lies with her, allow yourself to feel it."
"¡No, Guillermo! La señorita is young, I'm an old, seasoned sailor. It is highly inappropriate and wrong to even suggest such a thing."
"A lot of things changed in these years we have been gone, amigo."
Their conversation was cut short by the sound of someone approaching. One look at her and Armando's eyes softened immediately and she gave them a curtsy before looking up at him again. The dress, green skirt and floral overcoat, the hat on top of her head, the way she looked up with the fan in her left hand, open, the message conveyed so elegantly.
"Am I interrupting, ¿almirantes?"
"No, señorita! I was just telling Armando I have something to attend to at the Armada headquarters so if you will excuse me.", Lesaro bowed to them and walked away, a smile on his face at the playful betrayal.
Armando, on the other hand, held her right hand and planted a kiss on it in greeting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Walk with me, Armando?", she said, smiling. And Armando would not, could not refuse. He offered her his arm, smiling as she took it and they walked towards the gardens.
Spanish translations:
¿Dónde vás? = Where are you going?
¿Qué pasa? = What's going on?
Diós = God
No, ella estaba conmigo = No, she was with me
No sé que hacer = I don't know what to do
Amigo = Friend
No te atrevas... = Don't you dare...
¡No, absolutamente no! = No, absolutely not!
Almirantes = Admirals
Señorita = miss
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ssahotstuff · 2 years
Text
Hotch x Fem! BAU member 300 follower celebration 💕
Hi babes! I took a short break from my fics to write this so I hope you enjoy 💕 thank you so much for 300 followers. Ily all so very much 🥰
Comfort, fluff, Softie Hotch, mutual pining, age gap, size kink, p-n-v, oral, dirty talk, accidental sexting that leads to real sex? Idk lmao. It's a bit of a slow burn but I promise it gets really filthy towards the end ☺️
Word count: 7.7k
Not proofread so don’t come for me lmao
This was not meant for me.
That didn't stop my eyes from scanning her barely covered body more times than I could count, zooming in on her chest, her nipples erect and peaking through the thin fabric of her bra. I wanted to stop myself from staring at how well her panties fit on her hips, hugging them in all of the right places.
The accompanying message was asking for her groupchat's opinion on if she should get a spray tan for our upcoming trip to the beach. We'd planned to go as a unit, and as the newest member of the BAU, she'd taken quickly to the current women of the group. She and Penelope were nearly inseparable outside of work, and when JJ and Emily weren't busy together, the four of them were a power group. They did everything together; it was quite sweet, endearing even.
I let my fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of how to proceed. I could give her my honest opinion, or I could do nothing and let her realize her mistake. It wasn't that I was upset, it couldn't have been further from the truth. I'd wanted her since she showed up in my office, her hair pushed back away from her face with a headband, letting me soak in all of her gorgeous features. She was so eager to work under me that we all accepted her with open arms. It was hard not to. She brought fresh baked cookies and other delicious treats every time we boarded the jet, and we'd all became fans of nights where she and Rossi would tag team dinner.
She was really hard not to fall for. I'd watched so many cops, detectives, all over the country, after her affection, but she'd always point to the wedding ring on her finger.
She wasn't married, and never had been. But she'd gotten tired of getting hit on constantly, so she started wearing it and using her 'husband' to avoid advances. Most of the time, it worked. Other times, I would interject, question the man's professionalism, and she'd always thank me after.
I was conflicted. The longer I sat and gawked at her, leaving her on read, the longer time I gave her to question my own morality. I decided to reply, as casually as possible without embarrassing her.
I think you'll tan just fine on the beach this weekend.
Within seconds of delivering, she was calling me, stumbling over an apology before I could even get a greeting out. She was panicked, flustered. It was cuter than it should have been, listening to her try to explain how the photo found its way to a thread of messages between us rather than her girlfriends.
"Y/n, you don't have to apologize, it was a simple mistake. If it makes you feel any better, I really don't think you need a spray tan."
"It oddly enough makes me feel a lot better," she chuckled, winded from her string of apologies.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping? We leave out early in the morning," I tried my best to change the subject, mostly because I really wanted to keep her on the phone. I was still in the office, despite the fact we were all technically on AL.
"Says the man who hasn't left his office," she shot back, and the undeniable squeak of her rolling chair told me she was only a flight of stairs away from me. I had kept the blinds drawn because I'd be going out of town, and I wanted the privacy of my office to remain untampered with.
"I thought I was the only one who worked off the clock," I sighed, standing to my feet and peeking through the blinds. She was mostly casual, in her jeans and her black tank top, her phone nestled between her ear and her shoulder as she scribbled away at her desk.
"Sorry to disappoint you," she tsked, closing up her notebook. If she felt my gaze on her, she didn't let it show.
"Why don't you come up and have a drink with me, and then we can both leave for the night?"
I stalked over to my door and pushed it open just a fraction, giving her no time to respond before I was hanging up the phone and retrieving the two of us a glass along with a bottle of scotch I kept tucked away for especially hard nights.
✨✨✨
You weren't sure what to expect when you crept up the stairs and into Hotch's office. The sight of him with his tie dangling loosely around his neck, and his head leaned back into the cushions like he'd just finally decided to relax after a month had your stomach in knots before you could even shut the door behind you. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks when he didn't budge at your arrival, instead he patted the empty seat next to him, his eyes closed, hand clutching his drink.
You closed the distance between yourself and the couch in a few short strides, mustering every ounce of courage you had to sit down next to him and accept the drink he'd offered you.
"Being away from this place for a few days will be refreshing," he said finally, tipping his glass back and welcoming the burn. You did the same, sinking into the cushions next to him, close but yet still so far from the man you'd wanted since your first week in the BAU. He was exactly your type: strong, powerful, dominant. He was off limits in so many ways if you wanted to stay on the team, and that was a sad reality you'd been wrestling with for the last 8 months that you'd worked beneath him.
"I've never been to the beach," you replied, earning a questioning look from him in response. You shrugged, taking another long sip of the amber liquid. In a way, the scotch reminded you of his eyes, the same golden brown hue, and the same lust-driven affects.
"That just means we'll have to make it a weekend to remember," he winked, causing the butterflies to erupt in your empty stomach. You almost thought he was flirting with you, but you shook it off as excitement for his first break in ages.
"Garcia has an itinerary for the first 12 hours," you groaned, and he chuckled, elbow touching yours slightly. He made no effort to move his arm, if anything, he let it go parallel with yours until your pinkies were brushing against one another. It was purely innocent, and adorably fucking sweet. You tried to hide how giddy being close to him made you feel, tried to swallow the growing feelings for your boss, but you couldn't choke them down.
"Do you think you could pencil me in for dinner one night? I can't have you at the beach and not take you to the best restaurant on the board walk," he asked, voice the tiniest bit unsteady as he waited for your answer.
"Is that allowed?" You didn't mean to blurt it out, but you wanted to cover all of the bases before you risked your job to go to dinner with your boss.
"We're technically on vacation. It's allowed if you're okay with it, of course."
You nodded, your words caught in your throat, the fantasies of making him your own playing in overdrive in your head. He was everything you wanted in a man and more, and he was asking you to dinner.
"If you want to leave your car, I'll drive you home and pick you up in the morning," he suggested, and somehow you managed to squeak out that was fine, though your voice sounded a million miles away to you. He offered you his hand before he stood to his feet, bringing you along with him. You made your way to the parking garage and climbed into his SUV, taking a deep breath while he walked around to the drivers side. Once he was in the vehicle, his tie was gone completely, tossed in the backseat with his briefcase and blazer. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the muscles beneath the cotton white fabric. You wanted to reach out and hold his hand across the console, but he'd only invited you to dinner, not to be his girlfriend.
"What time are you getting up?" His voice cut through your thoughts, so you told him about the 4am alarm time you'd set so you and the rest of the team could meet at Waffle House before making the drive to the beach.
"You don't mind riding in with me?" His confidence was gone for a moment as he glanced over at you, features mostly hidden by the night, but in the soft green glow of the street lights, you could see the sliver of doubt behind his eyes.
"Not unless it's a problem for you," you weren't sure if he'd want the entire team seeing the two of you together and suspecting something before you even had a chance to figure out what that 'something' was.
"It's not. Not at all."
His voice remained neutral as he pulled up to your apartment building, shutting off the engine so he could walk you to your floor. He stood towering behind you, a gentle, guiding hand placed on the small of your back as you led the way. He stopped at the elevator, signaling he'd gone as far as he intended to for the evening.
"I'll be here around 4:30, is that okay?"
You nodded, giving him a small wave as he waited for the doors to slide open. A hint of a smile crept onto his lips as he waved back, promising to see you in the morning. You weren't sure how you were supposed to sleep after Hotch turned your night upside down. Instead, you packed an array of outfits to choose from and prayed to God that Penelope in all of her night owl behavior hadn't chosen tonight to go to bed at a reasonable hour.
"I swear if our trip and my only shot to see Derek Morgan sunbathing beachside is ruined because we have a case—" she was wide awake now if she wasn't already.
"It isn't that. Something just happened and I need to tell you and ask what to do."
"Spill it sister."
So you spent the next half hour debating whether your date with Hotch was merely for a weekend hookup or if he looked at you the same way you saw him.
"He does seem to be more protective of you than anyone else. I thought it was because you were the newest and youngest member but now that I think about it..."
Garcia's trailing thoughts had you questioning every experience you'd had with Hotch prior to now. Sure, he was oddly always where you needed him, but he was that staple for everyone on the team, not just you.
"He's going to be here in like four hours, Garcia. We're riding to Waffle House together," her audible gasp let you know that she was equally as surprised as you were when he agreed to come.
"We already asked like ten times," she pouted, and your lips curled into a celebratory grin because you'd done the one thing they couldn't, and that was get Hotch to participate in all group activities on and off the clock.
"You better get some sleep. I'll adjust the itinerary to make room for your date," she purred, leaving your heart racing in anticipation for the weekend to come.
✨✨✨
We pulled into the drive of Rossi's beach house around 2 pm, and nearly everyone took off to their respective rooms to take a nap. The door adjacent to mine stayed open however, so Y/N had no intentions of sleeping. Instead, I watched as she unpacked her things and folded them neatly in the drawers of the dresser in her room.
"Not tired?"
She turned sharply at my voice, barely above a whisper. Even though we were on the third floor, a bathroom and a study the only other rooms, the house was quiet, and I didn't want to alert anyone who may have been awake.
"I don't know how they can all sleep with the beach a hundred yards away," she chuckled, her lavender sundress barely meeting the middle of her thighs. She motioned for me to come in so I stepped over the threshold and into the room she'd occupy for the next three days. There was a door in the far corner that separated her room from mine, a simple lock the only thing keeping us apart all weekend. I hadn't spent a lot of time with her outside of the office, but if she was willing, this weekend would be the beginning of a change to that routine.
"I'm starving. I was thinking if you aren't tired, we could grab something for lunch."
She was all smiles as she followed me up the short paved path to a small private beach, the boardwalk a short distance from Dave's property. We started the short walk, her eyes filled with wonder the entire time.
"Next year we'll go to Atlantic City," surely if this was an eye opener for her, somewhere more busy and entertaining would keep her happy nonstop. I hated the sand. Even now, in my polo and khakis, I felt more out of place than usual, and oddly enough I missed my tie, but the smile on her face was worth the trek through the sand.
"Isn't Atlantic City casinos and drinking? I'll pass," she giggled, the sun already beginning to kiss her cheeks in the most amazing way. I couldn't wait to see what the rest of the weekend had in store for her radiance, once a full day of splashing in the ocean had her glowing.
"Maybe next year I'll win and we go somewhere secluded," I joked, leading her to a gyro stand that I always visited when I was in town. Satisfied with my choice, we chose a cozy table for two and fell into what felt like the most normal meal I'd had in ages. The quiet parts weren't awkward, and we always managed to find something to talk about. I figured with our rather large age gap, we'd have nothing in common, but the woman who loved James Bond movies and knew 80's cinema better than Reid kept me surprised every time she opened her pretty little mouth.
"JJ texted. Everyone's going out for lunch and sight seeing after," she announced, slipping her phone back into her purse and directing her attention to me.
I certainly didn't want to look like a tourist, and I assumed it was Dave's idea to get everyone out of the house in the first place, because if anyone had been campaigning for me to ask Y/n out, it was Dave. He'd send us alone nearly any chance he could get, despite my earlier protests about her age and my position on the team. He assured me if things were serious later on, that's when it would matter, but for now I should follow my instincts.
"What do you want to do? We can join the others, or we can find something else to do," I suggested, a grin forming on my face at the way she perked up when I suggested staying together.
"They were playing Goldfinger at that tiny theater we passed on the way in," she reminded me, and even though I'd seen it ten times, another time with her wouldn't hurt.
"Goldfinger it is then. We better hurry or we'll miss the previews."
✨✨✨
After a double feature of Goldfinger and Skyfall, it was dark and you were both starving. Once your eyes adjusted, you realized it was just as dark outside, the sun nearly setting in the distance. You'd told JJ and the others what you guys were doing, and they were out for dinner also, but you and Hotch had other plans. On the opposite end of the boardwalk was a hole in the wall Italian restaurant that he'd been raving about since you crossed the state line, and luckily enough, you were the only patrons.
"I'm so glad we came here," you told him, his hand finding yours as he slid into the booth beside you. It was the first attempt at contact he'd made all day, though you could tell he'd tried hard not to hold your hand in the theater. Instead, it rested on the chair back behind your head, barely avoiding your shoulders. You caught him several times eyeing the tiny straps of your dress, which made you blush like mad because all you could think about was him taking your dress off. You'd hoped the weekend would end with opening up to him in more ways than just one, if he was okay with it.
"I'd suggest something to you but it's all good," he marveled, scanning the menu until he'd decided. You told him you'd have whatever he was having, and that made him smile a real smile, one you hadn't seen until now. You hoped it was the first of many.
Once the waiter took your order, his body shifted towards you and his hand gave yours a gentle, loving squeeze.
"If you aren't tired of movies, Dave has an extensive collection in the room across from yours," he said hopefully, and you quickly agreed to a night of cozying in with Hotch, especially if it meant the night didn't have to end yet. You were having the best time, and the lines between superior and team member and something more were starting to blur rapidly, and you considered that a really good thing. You'd promised yourself that if he wanted it as much as you did, then there was nothing left to question. You'd gladly give yourself to him no matter what the consequences.
"Lucky for us our rooms are so close," you were ready to take things a bit further, see where his boundaries were, if he had any. You had certainly left yours back at Quantico the night before.
"I wanted to have you close this weekend," he admitted, cheeks heating up slightly as he took another sip of his water. The waiter had suggested wine but you wanted the night to be clear so everyone was sure of the decisions they were making. You had a suspicion that Aaron skipped wine for the same reason.
"I'll be as close as you'll have me."
✨✨✨
The house was full but as quiet as we'd left it, the activities of the day exhausting everyone. We were saving the beach for a day when we'd had a full nights rest, so everyone had turned in early for the night, which worked to our advantage. We crept upstairs and as soon as we'd changed clothes, she unlatched the lock that kept the door joining our rooms shut and she was climbing into the bed that was mine for the weekend. She made herself comfortable, leaning back on the mound of pillows as I popped in the next Bond film. I had no plans on watching this one, unless she just absolutely wanted to. I was climbing in next to her, letting her lean into me and shelter me with her warmth.
"You smell like sunshine," she came a bit closer, unsure of where to put her hands as she finally settled on taking one of mine, so I wrapped my free arm around her and tried to settle my nerves. It had been a long time since I'd held anyone, and she was much bolder than I was. I noticed as I held her hand that her fake wedding ring was gone, a faded tan line in its place.
"I figured I wouldn't need it today," she lifted her hand, sucking in a breath when I pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Giving my affection to another person terrified me, but if anyone had it, I wanted it to be her. In seconds, her hands were pulling me to her and her mouth was hovering inches from mine, waiting on my green light. Once I was finally kissing her, none of the nervous jitters mattered anymore, it felt like things were going exactly the way the needed to go without my interference, and nature was taking it's proper course.
I pulled her into my lap and let my hands wander across her body, her tank top straps falling off her shoulders, her stomach slightly exposed. She lifted her arms and let me toss her shirt aside, leaving her topless on my lap.
"You're so gorgeous. Let me look at you," for the first time since I'd known her she seemed shy for a moment, so I tried my best to ease her nerves some. I ran a cautious hand down the middle of her back, feeling the goosebumps that arrived on her skin shortly after. She guided my free hand to her breast, giving me a small nod of approval before she let me explore her body with my hands.
"I can't believe you really thought you needed a spray tan. You're glowing and we've barely been here a day," I marveled, admiring her tan skin and how angelic she looked against the white comforter.
"Think we'd be doing this if I hadn't sent you that picture on accident?" The small gasp that escaped her lips was intoxicating as I rolled her nipple between my fingers, causing it to harden under my touch.
"I've wanted this to happen for a while now. I just didn't know how to say it," I brought her nipple to my mouth and groaned immediately at the moan that fell from her lips as she pushed her chest forward and grabbed on to the back of my head, urging me to continue. I was thankful for the privacy of the third floor and being far enough from the team that she didn't need to muffle her moans too much. She was so dainty, so much smaller than me in every way that she felt fragile, but at the same time she was flexible and nimble enough that her size could be used to our advantage in the future. I'd fantasized more than once about having her against the walls of my office at home; too many late nights working and a wild imagination had me daydreaming about her everywhere, and now it was a reality.
"Every inch of you is perfect," her nails met my back, treading the waters as she lightly raked them across my shoulders. The sensation that swept over my body had me begging her to do it again, groaning when she increased the pressure just a fraction. Her perfectly manicured fingers were marking me up in the best way, a sensual reminder of having her for the first time.
Her hips were grinding against mine, desperate for me, and I couldn't get enough of it.
"You don't need these clothes," I patted the empty space next to me so she could slide off of me and I could climb on top of her, dragging her sweatpants down her hips before I situated myself next to her, her pink panties the only piece of clothing left on her. I tossed my shirt and let her unbutton my pants, lifting my hips so she could help me shrug them off. Feeling self conscious didn't even cross my mind, I was already so comfortable with her that easing in felt like a waste of time; I wanted to dive in headfirst to whatever life with her looked like.
"You're so sexy, Aaron," her breath was hot on my neck and my name had rolled so effortlessly off her tongue that I had to bite back a moan, letting my eyes flutter shut as she smothered me in affection, her arms wrapped around my neck and her tongue tangled with mine. I tugged her legs apart, teasing her clothed center with my fingertips. She was soaked through her panties, whimpering at my touch already.
"You're so wet for me already, sweet girl," she let her legs fall open the rest of the way, welcoming my touch, needy for it as her hips bucked and wiggled. I pushed past the waistband of her panties and let my fingers find her warmth, a sigh of ecstasy escaping her when I made contact with her throbbing clit. Her brows were pulled together, mouth slightly agape as I began to learn her body. I slowly worked a finger inside of her and she clenched around me immediately, begging me to give her more. I propped up on my elbow, slipping another digit inside of her.
"So fucking tight, I can't wait to feel you," the filthier I was, the more she stopped holding back. My filter was long gone, replaced by desire to make her squirm like no other man before or after me. She looked properly fucked already, a thin layer of sweat on her brow and her eyes pinched tightly together as I fucked her with my fingers. She came soon after, gushing on my fingers like my own personal water fountain of pleasure.
"That's it, good girl. I'm going to fuck you with my tongue now, is that alright?" I was already climbing between her thighs, nestling between her legs and spreading her lips open to expose her clit. Her hands fell to my hair as she guided my mouth to her sex, tossing her head back as I tasted her for the first time.
✨✨✨
You were trying not to scream, but his mouth just felt that good. Truthfully, you didn't mind to wake the entire house, but you were behaving for Aaron's sake. He looked more peaceful than you'd ever seen him, buried between your legs, his tongue working overtime to make you cum over and over. You couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched you like this, and you'd certainly never felt as desired as you did right now.
The thing that had shocked you the most considering he was so broody and quiet unless you were working was how vocal he was in his neediness for you. It was so sexy how he told you exactly what he was thinking, no matter how explicit. He made no attempt to hide how much he wanted you, how happy you were making him just by letting him have his way with you. You were in the most blissful state, his tongue tracing lazy circles on your clit as he teased you with his fingers.
"Could spend all weekend long just like this," his voice shot vibrations through your entire body, making your legs shake and your hips buck upward involuntarily. His grip on your waist tightened as he moaned into you, sending you over the edge quicker than you could blink. Your nails showed no mercy on his shoulders, which kept a ghost of a smirk on his cocky lips. You were sure his massive hands had marked your body up as well, and you'd wear every mark as a proud souvenir. You were his entirely now; he'd already made sure you'd never be completely satisfied without him, and he hadn't even fucked you yet.
As if he read your mind, he was pulling himself
up onto his knees and lining himself up with you, dragging you off the pillows and pulling your legs in the air to rest against his chest. You had the perfect view of him shimmying his boxers down and exposing his length, pumping his thick, throbbing member at the sight of you waiting to take him.
"You'll stop me if it's too much, right?"
With a quick nod and your hands pulling at the back of his legs, he slid into you, stretching and filling you in a way you'd never experienced. Whole was the first word to come to mind, but it was quickly replaced by the slamming of Aaron's hips against yours and his hand flying over your mouth to muffle the scream that followed.
"As soon as we get back home and I can take you to my bed, you can make all the noise you want, but I need you to be good and stay quiet, okay?" He never stopped fucking you, just waited for you to be quiet so he could move his hand. You did your best to keep the noise to a minimum as he fucked you, his hands tangled in your hair.
"You feel even better than I imagined, sweetheart. Can I cum inside of you?"
You gave him an eager nod and told him you were on birth control, which almost immediately caused him to finish, his dick twitching inside of you as he gave you every last drop of cum he had to offer. You were more than satisfied with how your first night of vacation was going, and the only thing that could make it better was still having Aaron after the weekend was over.
He was still trying to catch his breath, reaching out to cradle your face before pulling up his boxers and finding you a towel. Once you were cleaned up he offered you the t-shirt he'd been wearing and popped in another movie, climbing in the bed once more and wrapping his arms around you.
"Will you sleep in here with me tonight?"
He was asking you to stay, opening his arms for you to crawl into like you'd done it every night for years. You immediately relaxed into him, kissing his cheek as you settled in at his side.
"Tomorrow we'll see the beach. And I know everyone else is staying until Monday, but I was hoping you'd head back with me Sunday and maybe we could spend the rest of our vacation just the two of us."
You weren't due back in the office until Thursday, so you quickly agreed, drifting off to sleep shortly after.
✨✨✨
"Come on, Aaron, it's almost 7 am!"
The sun was barely creeping over the horizon and we were the first people on the beach, her chair already placed in the sand along with her beach bag. She'd insisted on getting up early and having breakfast together on the beach, which meant we were up before everyone else and got a nice head start.
"Slow down! I'm getting sand in my shoes," she was already setting things up and I was trailing behind, trying to carry more chairs and a bag of my own. She came to help, taking my bag and giving me a strange look.
"You're not really planning to work while we're at the beach, are you?" Her hands met her hips and I couldn't help but giggle at her. That is exactly what I'd planned to do.
"Once we get back and it's just us, no work. I promise. But for now, I just have a few things to finish writing up. Couple hours, tops."
She seemed satisfied with my answer, and soon enough, JJ, Penelope and Emily were all joining us on the beach, groaning at the light even through their sunglasses.
"Rossi got us day drunk yesterday," Garcia groaned, slathering on sunscreen as the rest of them nodded in unison.
"Speaking of, where did you two disappear to all day long?" JJ whispered at my side, the two of us watching as she and Emily helped Garcia set up the chairs.
"We uh, went to the movies and had dinner. Came back here and everyone was asleep."
"Sounds like a nice first date," she winked, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks at the idea of having her alone in my house in a days time.
"It was. Obviously I need to keep this quiet for now, JJ. Beyond this team, we work together."
She tsked and shrugged her shoulders, knowing that's how things had started months ago with her and Emily, and now everyone knew about them. It wasn't an issue because it didn't compromise their ability to perform adequately.
"But for how long? Because you haven't taken your eyes off of her."
She was right. How was I supposed to put on a facade now that I'd had her for myself? It would be nearly impossible, but luckily the people I was around the most knew something was going on, so there was no cause to worry until new circumstances arose. I joined her and our friends, listening to the soft chatter of voices as they all rehashed events from the drive up and the night before.
"Spence almost drove Morgan crazy on the way up," JJ nodded toward the house, where the two men were already arguing about something. It was all in good teasing fun, but they were entertaining, especially on car rides as long as ours.
"Hotch! We need you to settle a debate," Morgan called, eyes darting between Y/n and me as his eyebrows shot up in a questioning look. I gave him a subtle nod and joined him a good distance away from the ladies to see what all the fuss was about.
"Morgan thinks that you can't just be attracted to someone based on personality alone," Reid stated, to which Morgan rolled his eyes playfully.
"All I'm saying is, you don't sleep with a woman for her personality."
"He has a point, Reid."
"I know he does, but-"
I put up my hands in surrender and gestured to the beach behind me.
"Go play in the water and quit arguing, please."
✨✨✨
An early morning made for an even earlier night, everyone tiring out and settling in for dinner around 5 pm. We all opted to cook together, which ended with the men drinking and watching the women work effortlessly in the kitchen from the living room.
"You're very obvious, if you didn't already know," Rossi was at my side, nudging me with his elbow.
"I have no reason not to be. Everyone knows," I said proudly, a perpetual smile on my face, pulled so tight I couldn't wipe it away if I wanted to.
"I think this trip was the best idea I've had in ages," he boasted, refilling my glass. I wanted to take it easy on the alcohol so I didn't have a massive hangover on the drive back home.
"There's a retro theater about ten minutes away that you should check out before we leave."
I told him about our Bond double feature, our plans to leave early in the morning so we could spend the rest of our vacation alone, which he wasn't happy about, but quickly forgave me for it anyway.
"Sounds like you're finally taking my advice. If you leaving early means we'll all come home to a smiling face in the office on Thursday, be our guest."
"You don't think I'm moving too quickly, do you, Dave?"
He shook his head, patting my back and giving me a goofy grin.
"You're both adults. You move at the speed the universe takes you."
✨✨✨
After you'd ate dinner and had a shower, Hotch was tapping lightly on the door that connected your rooms. You'd already found clothes to sleep in and had curled up in your previously unused bed.
"I found a copy of True Lies in Dave's study. It's not Bond, but it's close," he held up the dvd for you to see, popping it in the player and joining you in your bed. Your arms opened up for him and he climbed in them happily, letting you hold him as he used your lap as a pillow.
"What time are we heading out in the morning?"
"Is 6 okay? I wanted you to be able to sleep some," his hands gently massaged your thighs, his fingers tracing shapes on your sun kissed skin.
"6 is fine. I didn't tell anyone we were leaving."
He shrugged, head leaned back in your lap so he could look up at you.
"I told Dave earlier. He wasn't surprised," you were shocked he'd told anyone, considering whatever you two were doing was still fresh and new.
"I don't think anyone was surprised," all your friends weren't shocked in the least, they'd all been sitting around waiting on either of you to make a move, and Hotch had decided this weekend was the perfect time. The entire team, you excluded, had seen it coming.
"I would have said something sooner. I've known for a long time that you're who I want. I just had to be sure you felt the same or it would make working together difficult," he chuckled lightly, reaching up to caress your face. You leaned into his touch, feeling more secure than you had in a long time.
"I thought maybe I was too young for you," you admitted, although that and a list of other insecurities had kept you from saying anything until it was obvious how he felt about you.
"I don't mind if you don't mind," he said softly, and you didn't mind at all. In fact, the flecks of gray in his sideburns and the rigid manliness of his demeanor were two of the things you admired most about him.
"It was...a lot of things. Honestly, I thought you were too good for me," you whispered, leaning back suddenly as he sat upright, pulling you into his arms.
"You're not serious, are you?"
You nodded, and he sighed before he pulled you in for a kiss. His mouth was enough to erase every worry you had, his tongue dancing wildly against yours. He pulled you up to straddle him, groaning when your hips met his and your center rocked against him, already stiff and needy through his pajamas.
"You are so out of my league it isn't even funny," he mumbled between kisses, his hands guiding your hips in all the right places, providing just enough friction to have you aching, your panties a slippery mess inside of your shorts.
"You can't honestly think that," you were finding it hard to focus with his hands swiftly undressing you so he could cover your chest in love marks. He wore a satisfied grin the entire time, your moans just motivating him further.
"I do think that. You're fantastic in every way," his tongue swirled around your nipple, one after the other until they were both sensitive and flushed, playing with you almost as if you were his new favorite toy.
"Can I show you how gorgeous I think you are? Let me convince you," he laid you down gently, throwing his own shirt aside and hovering over you so he could kiss you again, this time with so much passion you had to squeeze your thighs together to deliver some of the pressure that was building in your core. He sensed your desperation and was eager to help, sliding your panties down enough so you could kick them down the rest of the way. His fingers slid through your drenched folds, a low groan coming from his chest when he admired his finger, slicked and soaked with arousal. You felt your mouth fall open when he sucked his finger clean, closing his eyes and savoring how you tasted.
"So fucking sweet. Are you always going to be this wet for me, sweetheart?"
All you could do was nod, star struck as he lowered himself between your legs, slowly, cautiously, as if all of his focus was now on you and the pleasure he could give you. His eyes darkened dramatically as he licked a stripe directly through your center, vibrating your core with his rumbling voice.
"Made just for me, isn't that right, sweetheart?"
His fingers dexterously spread you open so his tongue could work on your almost sensitive spot, his lips brushing your clit lightly in a sensual kiss unlike any you'd ever experienced. Once more and you were a writhing mess, your back arching off the mattress. You came with a shudder, causing Aaron to cease all movement until he knew you were okay.
"So sensitive, but it feels so fucking good," you whined as the rough pads of his thumb pressed gently on your clit, ghosting circles over your swollen flesh.
"You're doing so well, sweet girl. Can you handle my fingers and my mouth at the same time, or will it be too much?"
"I can handle it," you were eager, desperate, spreading yourself open so his hands were unoccupied. He eased a finger into you, and then another, curling them into you as his lips latched on to your clit. The combination of his massive fingers filling you and his mouth satisfying your every desire made your head spin. You'd listened to him silence a room with a single sentence and now he was in your bed, keeping you quiet in an entirely new way.
"I love to feel you clench around my fingers," the proud smile he wore was a clear indication of how much fun he was truly having, his cheeky grin contagious. He glanced up at you long enough to catch a glimpse of your smile before he was diving back between your thighs, purely lost in you.
“I can’t wait to get you back home so I can hear all the pretty little sounds you can make,” he teased, his finger curling perfectly inside you, just enough pressure to have you unraveling at the seams. He knew exactly how to make you feel like you were on cloud nine, and for a moment you had to focus on catching your breath.
“Jesus, Aaron, aren’t you tired?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Then switch spots with me. I want your dick in my mouth,” he wasn’t planning to stop until you made him, and he’d been having all of the fun up until now. You had imagined this moment a million times in your mind, but usually it took place somewhere forbidden, like beneath his desk in his office. Now, with him splayed across the bed like some sort of deity, his cock begging to be freed from the restricting waistband of his boxers, you couldn’t wait to give him exactly what he’d secretly been waiting for.
✨✨✨
I wasn’t sure how it was supposed to get any better than this, watching her flatten her tongue against my member before she took the majority of it in her mouth. I was nearly melting into the pillows, my hips feverishly bucking to meet her mouth. She took all of me with ease, opening her mouth entirely to take my cock in the back of her throat. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as her moans rattled my body, the sensation making me see stars.
“Look at you, so pretty with my cock in your throat,” she couldn’t help but smile, swirling her tongue around the tip and working her free hand on my length.
“I’ve dreamed of having you like this,” she whispered before taking me back in her mouth. I felt my cock bottom out at the back of her throat, constricting and tightening the more she hollowed her cheeks. It was sloppy and intimate and so fucking hot.
“Dreamed of me fucking your throat just like this?”
Her mhm was muffled, strained and gravelly against my cock, shooting electricity all the way to my toes. I wanted to finish inside of her, buried as deep as I could go in her.
“Come ride me,” my dick fell from her mouth with a plop and in seconds she was hovering above me, using her hand to line me up with her so she could sink down on me.
“You fit me like a glove,” she began to rock her hips back and forth, slowly at first until she found her rhythm. I held her hips, guiding her through every slow stroke, watching her face contort in pleasure as she came, nails digging into my arms for support. She leaned forward just enough for me to slam into her, holding her in place above me.
“Please don’t stop, I’m begging you,” she breathed, raising up on her knees at the perfect angle for me to hit her sweet spot. I was dangerously close, my thrusts getting sloppier, more urgent.
“One more time, sweet girl. You’re so close,” her eyes squeezed shut and I felt her constrict around me, her grip on my arms tight as she moaned my name. I pulled her onto my length and came hard, the two of us tangled together in a mess of sweat and bedsheets. The clock on the bedside table read 10:05 pm, and I knew we were both exhausted. We had a long drive ahead of us the next day.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll get some sleep,” she nodded, yawning wide as she leaned back on the pillows, letting me clean her off and tuck her in. Her hair was splayed out on the pillow, the light lull of her breathing the only sound in the room as I crawled in next to her, lucky to finally have her by my side.
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the-missann · 1 month
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Previous Post
Next up is
Jax Barmen!
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He's a super cute cutie and aside from his role in the story being related to the researcher who initially discovered 4th Dimensional beings (no, that's not a big deal in the story). Jax serves as the groups researcher.
He's extremely intelligent and enjoys theoretical research. Being a senior in high school, he has plans to go off to college and become a theoretical scientist.
Jax is also the pretty/popular boy of the school. Everyone loves him because he's personable and friendly. Jax is my sweet boy who tries his best to make sure the girls and women around him are taken care of and comfortable, and anyone else is met with nothing but kindness. I don't even think it's possible for him to even have bad thoughts.
Jax is also kind of the dad of the group being able to settle everyone down when they're feeling stressed or anxious about something. Outside of that, Jax often is the reasonable one of the group being able to make rational decisions and account for what they should or shouldn't be doing.
I actually just made this drawing randomly and it's not based on the excerpt. Here, Jax and Cassie are essentially having a sleep over where Jax is going to teach her something she's interested in. They're so cute too, they're suppose to he wearing matching PJs ☺
Also, his hair is different because I'm very bad at drawing 😄
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Here's a snipit of him!
It was now silent in the car, Jax got to a stop light and spoke to the pair.
“You guys are arguing about this? Have either of you thought about the actual situation?”
Larson looked at Jax. “You must want to die.” Larson threatened. “I am thinking about the situation.”
“No, you’re only thinking about disagreeing with Cassie because you believe she’s wasting our time. You have yet to say any kind of idea you have.”
Larson looked off and let out an audible sigh.
Cassie smiled. “Yeah, at least I’m trying to come up with something!”
Jax looked back at Cassie. “And you are deciding things without concern about consequence.”
Cassie shrunk under his voice. “But I-”
“I know, Cassie, you think this will be good. So I have to ask you, why is it good?”
Cassie sat back. “Because… we’ll get to have allies if we help them?”
“That’s a good reason, but here you miss a major point—we could also find out more about rifts. If they know things we don’t then it’ll only benefit us, but at what cost?”
Cassie was going to say something, but remained quiet.
So Jax continued. “We don’t know if they’re stronger than you guys and they very well might be. So maybe next time just say you have a good idea and we can go from there…” Cassie pressed her lips together. “And Lars, maybe don’t doubt Cassie for every little thing she does. Have some faith in her gut choices and listen to her suggestions, but I agree with your concern. This might be a huge waste of time, but I believe we’ll get something out of it and that’s worth the risk.”
The silence continued after he finished talking. The frustrated pair sat with his words without a single retort. Eventually, when the light turned green, Jax started to drive again.
Larson let out a sigh and spoke. “Besides sounding like a parent who’s scolding his children, you…have a point,” Larson began, “but what are we even going to get from this?”
“As I said, we may be able to learn more about rifts. As well as other species that might exist within them.” Jax stated calmly.
Larson sighed. “Fine, we’ll consider taking this guy down…”
“Alright, we’ll go from there.” With that Jax ended the conversation...
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Fun fact: his design still isn't what I want, but it's close enough that I'm willing to settle for this. Jax also does his own hair and at one point, I added a scene where Cassie doesn't know how to give herself cornrows and Jax helps her 😊
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womenareonline · 1 year
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Woke, Art, leftist dirtbag
This is in response to the discussion of Matty Healy on The Adam Friedland Show and about leftist dirtbags.
A few months ago I went on a date with a guy and my first text to my friend once I was home was: he is too woke. My friend and I have an ongoing joke where we talk about people going on TikTok and explaining why we shouldn't study Picasso a man who has been dead for over 40 years. Yet a few days ago I saw Chris Brown was the headliner for a festival. Do you see the issue here? I think a lot of people are talking about the over wokeness and canceled culture and how it does not work. I agree. Canceled culture is dumb and there are still a lot of people doing far worst things than Matty Healy.
What the leftist dirtbag loves to do is make fun of gen-z woke culture. Because they turn around and vote for Bernie Sanders, and that's great. We love Bernie. But voting for more leftist politicians does not give you a free pass to be racist and sexist. I get it, you are making a joke out of woke culture or of “locker room talk”. Here is my question to you: What do you gain from this? What exactly do you gain from spending an hour talking about the most bizarre and random stuff, mocking accents, and objectifying women? If you are so mad about gen-z not taking issues seriously but instead focusing on the language they use, isn't it a bit hypocritical if you sit down and make fun of them instead of helping? Great you voted for Bernie, but you are still going online and making degrading jokes about minorities. I get it, I really do. I don’t think you are racist or sexist, but I also don’t think this is the way to stay woke or to help the ongoing issue in society.
I always believed there is a balanced to everything. You can be woke and you can still focus on the important issue. I personally believe that standing up for women's rights so we don’t get murdered on our way home is far more useful than spending 10 minutes talking about Ice Spice dms. But that's just me. I’ve been online for probably the same amount of time than these guys, so I understand there is a lot on the internet and I grew up into the internet and not on the internet. I have also developed critical thinking to understand when to draw the line when joking and when to be “woke”.
Here is the thing about these jokes: POC and women have spoken up and said this isn’t funny. We do not enjoy this kind of humor. Why aren’t you listening to them? I understand your jokes and satire, but if someone is telling you it's making them uneasy, should you stop? What's the point of satire if it offends people? Why are you telling people to “take a joke” when you are joking about their own culture? We heard enough about this when it's not a joke and outside of art, and we are telling you: we are very tired. We are tired of white men telling us how to feel. We are tired of men telling us “it's a joke”. I know you are joking, I get that. But tomorrow I’ll wake up and a man would catcall me for wearing a skirt. I am tired even when you are joking.
About the whole concept of this being art. I get art, I really do. I adore art and would always try to understand the most bizarre and random art. I don’t judge it for what it is. I like to believe I try different forms and genres of art because I don’t believe in listening to criticism or mouth-to-mouth (I even listened to the podcast I swear). They are saying art is supposed to challenge us and this is for you to think and to step outside. I love that concept of art. I really enjoy watching something new and experiencing new music (like The 1975!!). But I don’t understand what is so challenging for white men to sit for an hour to talk about other races and women. Isn’t that what we see every day? Is that literally what politics is like? Men telling women what to do with their bodies? I think it is more challenging when men stand up for women because we don’t see that every day. I think it's braver when we talk about the killing of POC and transgender people. Why isn’t art about that? I think that's a challenge because the status quo is men speaking for women. Are white people telling other groups how to feel or who to be? I think the challenge in the art should be to those in power. Let's make fun of those who are in power and who marginalized others. I believed Matty Healy did an amazing job portraying this in Consumption on his last tour and I loved that. He was a white man, calling out men. I am tired as a Latina woman to see men talk about us but not about themselves. There is more value in a man telling another man they are wrong. Two of my favorite writers are Isabel Allende (Chilean) and Gabriel García Marquez (Colombian) they both write about the issues in Latin America. They both explain what is wrong in our culture. That's more valuable and challenging than men talking about other races and genders.
I’m closing this by saying I had and maybe still do a great admiration for Matty Healy as an artist. I think he is brilliant: his music is amazing, he is a great songwriter, the shows are all created by him, an amazing frontman (i saw them live back in 2019), and has an amazing meme curation. But i don’t get why he blur the line into I don’t want people to see me as too woke. I think it might be a “trauma” response to being canceled so much. I get it. But I don’t think that's where we need to direct the conversation.
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double show! And thoughts...on "insufferable fans"
it must be exhausting performing one show a day, but 2? In another city. That's gotta be hard on the body and vocal chords. Nice to see that she's taking the time to relax and decompress. 😊😊 hope she's taking care of her voice too. 😊 that's a lot of singing and dancing!
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Sidenote: I can't believe how ridiculous and rude people are just bc he got a GF. They're actually celebrating his premiere not having many in attendance. They're mocking his social anxiety and have created elaborate irrational theories that he was being inappropriate, or there's tension with a co-star. To me it looked like stage position confusion and just being excited, nervous, and goofy bouncing around. Why even imagine things you just don't know, in an ALWAYS negative way? Or try to see negative things everywhere? Or Create elaborate irrational theories about his friends who all like his GF and why they like/follow her.
There's a difference between regular speculation, like "why did he wear that?" "What movie is he filming, who is he dating etc and harmful speculation, like calling him racist bc people don't see him with non-white friends very often or calling him a creeper bc he took a pic of his GF.
They even say "we all know Alex" has a thing for women with boyfriends. Like where did they reach into their imagination for this knowledge? Lol 😂😂😂😂 there's literally nothing like that at all out there information wise. That we as complete OUTSIDERS would know about based on the limited things we see? Not just someone's imaginings. I mean really attacking his reputation to make him seem bad? Why? Do you think if you spout enough lies about them both their fans will all disappear, his career will vanish, and he'll have learned his lesson? And she will disappear completely into thin air or hide. Even suggesting she'd self harm if they broke up. What lesson do you want him to learn? That he shouldn't have a GF? To not be HAPPY? You want to lie about him (and GF), and call him spineless, creepy, racist, stupid to hurt him socially and professionally? Online stuff can actually hurt his career. And again, I'm inclined to believe them when they say friends first and then lovers.
Seriously there's little doubt in my mind why he liked the comment about "insufferable fans".
Lol his GF can't even post a mild pic relaxing before 2 shows (a partial leg and foot does not a naked picture make unless we are in the Victorian era, and legs on chairs are covered up bc it's lewd) without being accused of a variety of things.
If she really wanted attention she'd do what most people do throw on a bikini and pose endlessly. Do any of these haters look at accounts not related to him? She doesn't even post that much outside of work, selfies/pics with BF every now and again but who doesn't? I do. A few times a week. Lol. A lot of people do. Most actresses do. Even actors do the same. Why is it "bad" only when she does it? Why was it cool for Malte's GF to do a bathtub photo, but not Johanne? Why is there a difference? BC she's moving in with her BF Alex Hogh Andersen. And she's an actress on tv and a huge musical, so it's not like it's not normal for her to post what she does. They have public profiles to maintain in today's world. I'm sure some of it is for fun bc it's her life and she can post what she wants. And to Anyone that wants to show off their body: Go for it! It's your body. Be proud of your body! That's great for those with body confidence. 😊 If she posts him they say she wants attention, even if it's his big night. Technically it's her night too, but she didn't mention that in her post dedicated to him. 😊 If she didn't post him at all they'd say she was mad at the attention being taken from her, or she only posts him if she is there bc she only wants a spotlight on her. They'd say she was unsupportive, selfish and etc. Or she's obsessed bc she posts pics of her own boyfriend and sometimes wears his clothes. They act like they have "evidence" when it's really their own negative imagination in hyperdrive. 😂😂😂😂
Lol They'll attack her no matter what, it's so irrational at this point you just have to laugh. 😂😂😂😂
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harleiquina · 5 months
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Argentina won't turn into Hell that's what the *actual* fascists want you to believe.
A summary (trust me, I left so many things outside this post in a vain attempt to make it shorter) of what is going on in my country and why "the Far Right" has won.
I've seen many meltdowns on Tumblr about how everyone (especially the Queer community) is terrified, asking others to help them out. And it's painting a view of my country that is quite similar to the lives of those under Real Dictatorships (think North Corea, at least) and that makes my eyes roll because if us argentinos are one thing that is over the top. Go ahead, blame our Italian heritage, we do it all the time.
The first thing that I want to point out to the World is that the concepts of "Left" and "Right" are heavily polluted in my country. They've reached the point of "good" and "bad" without any critical thought behind it. And it was possible thanks to decades of a political party sucking the life and money from us: the Peronismo.
At the very begining:
Remember the "don't cry for me Argentina?" whether you are thinking of the Broadway's Musical or the movie inspired by it you are also thinking of Eva Perón. Pity that reality is a thing and nobody is perfect.
The Gral. Juan Domingo Perón came to be after being part of a military coup (something every single peronista forgets) that helped him to become relevant among the workers which lead him to his victory on the elections. He followed Mussolini's footsteps and allowed many Germans *if you catch my drift* to come and seek refuge in Argentina (before the end of the WW2 the Luna Park Stadium in Buenos Aires-usually used for boxing matches- held the largest N*zi meeting outside Germany with 70.000 supporters). He was also known for going after many women (is pretty much confirmed that one of his mistresses was 15 years old when he was over 40... or maybe 50) many of them were actresses that ended up leaving the country to escape from him and the Peronismo altogether. BUT since he approved a few laws -created and championed by the opposition years before- that helped the workers (8hrs shift, paid vacation, and such) and built a few -heavily- needed things he was The Greatest Guy Ever™️.
And Evita does not stay back. She earned the title "the standar-bearer of the poor" because of her many charities... that weren't real charities either. She would call toy or sewing machines factories and others to pressure them to give up merchandise for her to donate. What's wrong with that? That 1) an honest person would buy those items to donate them and 2) that she would send the AFIP (our IRS) to inspect and elaborate cases against the owners that denied to "help her" even if there wasn't a single pencil out of place. That's called blackmail, kids. And somehow (on the President's salary and her savings?) she had the biggest jewellry collection in Latinamerica and always dressed up with Chanel (yes, she was an actress but other actresses at the time were a hundred times more successful and did not spend THAT much money on their every-day outfits). I read her book and she does say that she wore modest clothes when meeting with her "shirtless" (a endearing? nickname both her and Perón used when talking about their followers) and that she "hated" wearing expensive clothes... and she says a lot of things as well that would scare the hard-core feminists that have a tattoo of her face somewhere in their bodies: Evita wasn't a feminist, 👏🏻read 👏🏻the👏🏻 goddamned👏🏻 book!! 👏🏻
The Peronismo built a movement out of an utopy? oximoron? the promise of finding the perfect balance between Capitalism and Socialism. It created the concept of "Patreon Goverment" (had to adapt it to English, the literal title is "Estado Bienestar" that could be translated to "Wellfare State" but it doesn't really encapsulates the real meaning) and the idea that the Goverment shouldn't just care for the overall of people but for every single individual person, so basically to get the State inside the houses instead of securing the good of the country in general. You might think that is ok-ish but in long term is a TERRIBLE idea.
Creating their voters
I once read the line "The Peronismo breaks your legs and then gives you clutches, so you are eternally greatful to them for the clutches" and whoever said it nailed it.
Perón & Evita always gave stuff to people who pledged loyalty to them in return. In here we have the word "clientelism" for this tactic: you give something and people gives you their vote and still happens to this day. And yes, you've guessed, within the Peronismo.
Now bear in mind that I don't mean that the State can't or shouldn't help people with food or basic clothing/items or even money when needed... but they always do it when their popularity is going down. You could argue that Evita gave sewing machines for those struggling women that needed to find a way to provide for their families but the overall endgame was to gain voters. Even in her book she claims that only "useful"* women should have kids... to end up in Perón's ranks. No other reason.
*Evita divides women in 2 groups: The Useful Woman (typical 1950s woman that takes care of herself, her family and is -kinda- well educated, maybe even went to College) and The Un-Useful woman which was basically a lazy one, this kind of woman shouldn't procreate (according to her) because she adds no value to the loyal soldiers of the General. Oh! How the turntables! But we'll speak about this later.
In addition of conditioning the most vulnerable groups to receive stuff in exchange for a vote (in people's minds if they don't remain In-Office, no-one will ever give them anything again) the education began its ongoing decay.
To give you an idea:
My grandmother in the 1940s saw stuff in 1st grade (aged 6) that my mom, in the late 1970s saw in 3rd grade (aged 8) and that I saw in the early 2000s in 5th grade (aged 10).
Education should always make you aim higher and not below average. It used to be normal for kids at the end of the year to see an few basic concepts they would have to study next year but this practice is long gone... kids start the year re-learning things from last year.
Argentina in 1930 practically had eradicated illiteracy, it held (if my memory doesn't fail) the 2% of illiteracy among citizens and it was the lowest percentage in Latinamerica. Even if you watch movies from 1930-1950 you'll see that they even tossed around some lines in English, Portuguese, Italian and even French... and this were the type of movies that everybody could see and understand (so nothing too high brow) starred by popular idols of the time.
Now our kids can't read or understand a text nor do basic math... bah! I keep saying "kids" as if my own generation is any smarter (I'm 31, btw). I was 20something in College, one of my classmates was 33 at the time and he didn't know what an index was or the purpose of it on a book, the rest of the class (about 30 people between 18 to 25) never noticed that 2 lists of 12 rules in Marketing were the same (but written in sinonyms, obviously) that we had to study for Managment and this people supposedly had a better education than me because I went to Public School my whole life (minus College) and they all went to Private Schools.
In 2022 15% of kids didn't end Highschool and we are getting high numbers on those that abandon Elementary School as well. There is no point for them to study because there have been about 3 or 4 generations that receive everything they need from the Goverment... why would they aspire to be something more? There's no need for that. And that's exactly what peronistas want: people too blinded by their miserable lives (that are good lives according to what they are told) to actually care about anything else.. It is a Capital Sin to try and become your own boss in a business or try and own anything at all like a home. Seriously my neighbours hate my family because we are the legal owners of our house... and they want our house for them because they think they are entitled to it -?!-.
So a mass of uneducated people that lives off gifts was created and this is the same people that votes for them every single time.
Of course, there are others that are not *that* easy to convince and this is where the maquiavelic plan is set to motion. Some people are looking to better their lives and their communities', and since these are large communities they equal to a large amount of votes.
That's how women got their vote. Everybody keeps thanking Evita for the female vote but who always championed for it was one of the most prominent feminists of our history Alicia Moreau de Justo (among many others since circa 1914, of course). The reason why the Law of Female Sufrage was approved in 1946 was because there was a strong opposition to Perón after his first term that could mean in him not being re-elected. So he needed more votes... hmm... I wonder how could he get those numbers? Got it! Make women vote, they most likely will vote for that one that allowed them to do so. Something similar happened around 2010 with Cristina Kirchner allowing 16 year olds (and up) to vote when the law was for those above 18.
Over the last couple of decades many social concerns took the spotlight and were legalized (same-sex marriage, abortion, the equivalent to Social Security, you name it) and they are atributed to the Peronismo/Kircherismo (a new branch born out of the Kirchners -husband and wife that became presidents and ruled for 12 years + their return in 2019 with our current president Alberto Fernández. So 16 years in power-) even if this projects were born on the opposition or independent organizations.
Even the Abortion legalization was a result of Macri (president between 2015-2019) a "Far Right" leader that said: "even if I don't agree with this project, its a conversation that our country needs to have" before allowing the Congress discuss it. What kind of "Alt-Right" leader lets such a divisive project be approved? Or better yet: what kind of "Left" leader like Cristina Kirchner, a woman that was in-office for 8 years, didn't send that project to Congress as soon as she took over because she wasn't *that* convinced about it?
The Peronismo/Kirchnerismo has convinced everyone that they are the Left and that anyone else that stands against them is the Right... the Ultra-right... because being just "The Right" isn't scary enough for some.
Corruption
While people is seemingly happy still living in dirt roads, with kids eating literal garbage and with no access to drinkable water, all the money that should've gone to different infraestructures was just there lying around... crying for someone's embrace... so of course the politicians decided that the money would be safe, warm and cozy in their own pockets.
My country is rich. We can have all kinds of industries because we have all weathers and enviroments: jungle, deserts, sea, mountains, fields, lakes, cities... and yet many of my fellow countrymen are starving, especially the Originary People (Native Americans). But the idea that whoever can invest in anything here is a vulture that doesn't care about their workers as long as money keeps pouring into their pockets was imposed throughout generations now by the Peronistas. (Mind you, I am fully aware that this kind of people does exist but it doesn't mean that every single business owner is like that, especially when speaking of PYMEs -Small and Medium Size Enterprises, in Spanish- that are the most popular model in my country. So basically family businesses)
Just last week Formosa's Governor (one of our poorest provinces), peronista clearly, publicly scolded a poor Wichí woman that sells her crafts online to the world (I wasn't able to find her name or her business' but is part of a program named Womek by the Foundation Gran Chaco that connects and educates people from native communities in how to use internet and build a business in it, among other things). I swear if you could either hear or read his words -it's all in Spanish and I don't feel like translating, sorry- you'll see a clear case of Gaslighting... and this happens everywhere.
The message is clear: How dare you go out to find something better if you have everything you need in here? And all of this while they have the most expensive cars, watches, houses and travel around the globe.
In this final election the phrase "what Rights will Milei take away? We don't have any!" Became almost a motto among people in the lower classes (just the few that are opening their eyes to the life they could have)
This meme sums it up perfectly: "Milei will take everything I built away"
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The people is angry
Milei won because people is done with the corruption (the Kirchneristas didn't even counted the money they stole... they weighted it. They knew how many dollars equal 1 kilo -half a pound- can you imagine how insane that is? They moved such large amounts of money that there was no time to count it, so they weighted it), the insecurity and also because people is tired of seeing our country falling apart.
Socially, the large uncultured masses don't do anything else but grow bigger (the whole "Un-useful women" came back to bite Eva in her a$$ because these women are the ones that are feeding the Peronista/Kirchnerista movement today), the other half -the working class- always has to pay for the party.
My grandfather retired at age 65, if I'm not wrong, but one or two years later a law was approved where if a retired person kept working, they would receive a bigger compensation once they finally retired. So he went back to work... and worked until I finished College (he would take the bus with me everyday so I wouldn't do it alone due to the insecurity) at his 83 years old. Once he decided to retire "for real" I went with him to the bank and Social Services so he could arrange his compensation. I was there when he was told "Sorry, grandpa, all the money you've made ended up in the different Social Plans. You won't see a cent" and this happened to all retired people.
All the workers have to pay taxes that do not end in needed improvements (like remodeling schools, hospitals, roads and such) every single Peso we give them ends up in Clientelism or in their own pockets (it is very well known fact in Latinamerica that you are not a real Socialist unless you have a Rolex on your wrist and lots of gold at home). Even if you take a plane to travel you have to pay a 2nd ticket in taxes alone to support both things... so of course people is pissed. Of course we want them Out of Office. And this doesn't make us "Far Right".
Is Milei the argentinian Tr*mp?
I'd say no.
As a Publicist, Milei never quite jelled for me. He's eccentric, sometimes agressive (but not in a way that equals violence or physical threats. If I say Agressive I can also mean Passionate), and... bizzarre just to say something. He's laser focused on our economy and nothing else... his team has some... odd... pieces that I don't like and that's where some level of fear might be born. However, is Milei who'll have the last word and the Opposition (a really big one even if he has some allies in it) will not just give in into his every whim.
After watching interviews and hearing him speak I'm starting to suspect that maybe he is within the autistic spectrum. Of course, I'm not the right person to say so... but the way he moves, how he explains everything in so much detail (but still accessible to anyone in his "University Professor" demeanor, something he proudly brings up every time) and the fact that his older sister is his corner stone and guide that keeps him going and coaches him on how he should behave adds up to my theory.
I do believe that he is honest... at least the part that wants to fix our country. He doesn't sugar-coats what he says, which is awful for us but good at the same time because Macri refused to do so back in 2015 and it costed him greatly.
One thing that I dislike about him is that Economy is his jam and tries to apply it to everything. He doesn't think much from any other point of view, but more like "if I cut this off, I'll have money to use in X". The other day in an interview said something like "Why should I absorb the deficit of the State's TV Channels and Radio when I can use that money to feed the kids?" which is not wrong (and by the way, this is not a Right-wing-nutjob type of speech) but in this case it works... I'm not so sure about every single problem around here. Only time will tell.
Yeah... but he is in line with Tr*mp and Bolsonaro and supports Israel.
To be fair, I do not know if he ever said anything about Biden or Obama, not even about Tr*mp (I'm not his follower, I haven't watched every single interview he's ever given). It is understandable that a country like mine would aspire to be like the USA. I do not know if Milei likes any of the economical decisions that *that* administration executed. But, in my opinion, Tr*mp has a lot more in common with the Kirchners than with Milei... even down to the point of ranting in Twitter (sorry, X) at any time. Tr*mp is a populist and Milei is against Populism.
I've heard Milei saying that he is not homophobic (time will tell), I've seen how he trusts and protects the women in his movement so I wouldn't label him as a misogynist either. His team, however, does have some rotten apples.
Why are they there? I dare to say because he needed people to fill in his list so it was a matter of quantity over quality. He's been in the political arena for 2 years... nothing compared to any other politician in my country, most of them started around 1983 (The Return of Democracy) or started with Perón back in the 1940s. Macri was also an outsider, but still, he started in politics in 2011 when he ran for Mayor of CABA (Autonomous City of Buenos Aires) so even now he's been on the field for 12 years and knows better. Hopefully, with time, Javier Milei will be able to pick and choose who he really wants next to him instead of settling for anyone that offers their help.
About Bolsonaro. Yes, he does have a relationship with him... because both countries faced the same enemy: Populism. People, I think the Bolsonaro is a terrible person... still I can't believe that Lula won again. Wasn't there another option? Why going back with the executioner? You were supposed to escape that fate, mate!
The so-called Socialism in Latinamerica is dirty. It steals from people, overpowers the Sindicates and they use that power to jeopardize a country's economy and even bring down goverments (in Argentina, since Perón's first presidency no other political sign ended its mandate. Macri was the exception because Social Networks allowed movements to show him support and the many attempts to bring him down failed) they dumb-down the people and want to close the doors to the world even though we live in the era of Globalization. No country is an island (figure of speech) that can do things on its own. We need to connect and sell our products outside our borders, that's the way to achieve a estable economy.
So, of course that he will try and connect to those that are fighting the same battle. Does it means that they are besties, doing each other's hair and that he agrees 100% to anything Bolsonaro has ever said? No, it doesn't.
About Israel.
Our history with Israel and the Jewish community reached the major peak of support in 1992 and 1994 when the Israel Embassy and the AMIA (a jewish association) suffered a terrorist attack (a car-bomb in each one) at the hands of Iran.
This was 31 years ago, the names of those involved are very well known but they are not in jail. The District Attorney Alberto Nisman was killed (or killed himself according to the Kirchneristas 🙄) the day before he was going to Court to show how the goverments and especifically Cristina Kirchner's were involved in the cover up that allowed the perpetrators to remain free.
So... we kind of owe Israel justice.
Milei is working into being converted to Judaism and if we add our history with both creed and country, of course he'll be on their side.
In any case, he's denying the 30k disappeared and supports the 1976's Dictatorship
As a side note: all media here covers what the international media says about the Israel conflict with Palestine. So just one side of the story and the brainwash is hard. Hell! I've even tried to explain mom about the reality of what is going on but she oversimplified everything to "If the Left supports them (Palestinians), then it's wrong" (because, as I said, the concepts of Left and Right are very contaminated in here and is really hard to get rid of the Peronista Stench).
Just a small personal note here: I'm not Jewish, clearly (I'm Agnostic) so I don't know anything about territorial history and/or rights on land based on that religion. But I do know that saying "X country shouldn't exist", name it Israel, USA, Argentina... or any country in the world -lets face it all of them are based on wars and extermination, no matter how far back you go in history- doesn't ring well (especially when someone is a Public figure) it is almost an invitation to war or genocide altogether because "that country shouldn't exist". I believe that as long as a country doesn't go back to the times of expeditions to gain land or to show power or stir fake-patriotism because its people is unhappy with a goverment (as Israel, Russia and USA -mostly- do) they should be respected. Let their own people choose their fate, like it happened to Yugoslavia or Czechoslovakia, they decided to split up and create new countries out of it. If they step out of the rules, they of course should be held accountable and there are many ways to do so and trying to erase it ain't one of them (it's usually economical and global punishments. Ask Cuba). Germany didn't stopped existing after WW2, Israel won't stop existing after this... the best next thing will be to educate as many people as you can and pray -if that's your thing- for all it inhabitants to understand and take action on how their future should be and how to make ammends with those they've wronged. End of communication, let us continue.
For those of you that didn't know, Argentina and many other Latinamerican countries suffered Military Coups in the 70s. All of them were part of the Condor Plan elaborated by the USA.
My country suffered many Dictatorships but the one between 1976 and 1983 was the worst of them all.
It all began after Perón's death, when his widow, Isabel, ended up being the President (because she was his vice-president). At the time, the Peronistas had 2 major guerrillas: Montoneros and the Triple A.
Montoneros worked mostly as a terrorist group and the Triple A was more like a Service of Intelligence (allowed to kidnap, torture and even kill those against Perón).
So we had local terrorism and a economical debacle. The perfect Petri Dish for a Military Coup.
In order to "fight" this terrorists, the militars kidnapped, tortured and disappeared many "leaders" BUT once they were being "arrested" their possesions would be taken and if they had a notebook with phone numbers and adresses of friends, classmates (many were university students) or even handy-men all of them would be turned into targets as well and suffered the same fate. Once the Democracy returned, we had the Trial of the Juntas that you can see in the movie Argentina 1985. Many cases landed on the laps of the Distric Attorneys so they decided to stop counting after 8 thousand disappeared otherwise the Trial would never start. So those 8.000 are like the "official" victims. Still the people decided to close the number in 30.000 for those that didn't make it into the final count and those that maybe nobody reported as disappeared. The actual number could be less than 30k, or maybe more... we will never know, but it is not wrong to say that there are 8k victims (that's the confirmed number) or 30k (a simbolic number).
Since our education at school only says "soldiers bad, victims good" a lot of people that didn't lived back then does not know the nuances of why this happened. Trying to bring the true version of History afloat is not denying that it happened but broadening the picture and showing some nasty sides with it.
Once the Militars were losing power they decided to evoke our sense of fake patriotism by starting a war against the UK (mostly England) over the Malvinas Islands (or Fakland Islands), a very old conflict that began in the 1830s. Everybody was on board until news from the front arrived. The Dictators sent literal kids to fight with no equipment to survive the cold, nor food or good weapons (we are talking about using weapons from the WW2 in 1982). Many soldiers died both in the battlefield and their homes because they just couldn't cope with the horrors experienced and took their own lives. We all hate the treatment our veterans had to endure and still go through today because some people is like "they were part of the Dictatorship, they were soldiers and deserved to die because they are fascists" completely ignoring the fact that this kids never wanted to be soldiers, they were drafted to do the Mandatory Military Service just to be sent to war a few months later.
And guess what? Milei's vice-president is the daughter of one of those soldiers. So of course she wants her father and other veterans to be recognized and cherished.
They were kids forced to fight to keep some dusty asses in Rivadavia's Chair. They were not part of the problem, they are also victims.
But once again, our lack of nuance turns everything inside-out.
Milei and Macri are not "The Alt Right" they are Center if anything.
"The Left" is a fascist movement and I will list as much evidence as I can remember about it (in a different post, this one is now far too long).
Yes, some members of Milei's political party are more "Right-Wing" but the party in itself doesn't have any kind of power at this moment (he's got like 8 mayors, no governors and maybe less than 20 legislators and senators in chambers that go above 200 members each) THERE'S NO WAY THAT ANYONE'S RIGHTS WILL BE STOLEN.
● Being against Peronism does not equal to be a "Right wing" supporter.
● Peronism is the real Fascism in here. They hate being out of Office and more than once admitted that they can bring down goverments (5 so far).
● They hate people that thinks differently (or that thinks overall) and use and abuse their own followers nearly forcing them to shed their blood in protests and fights so they can cry later about how they are "The Right's victims".
And one last phrase that I once heard somewhere:
"Dictatorships are dangerous in Latinamerica because they disguise themselves as the Left" so you can't just fight it because then you are the villain.
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lixxen · 2 years
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Jake Martin Headcanons/Drabble
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Hi I'm uh,,, I'm very gæ for Adrian Chase and Jake Martin so I decided to write NSFW headcanons for Jake. This one is geared towards me and they're highly specific. I feel like I should apologize? But alas,
Sorry not sorry.
This is a male!Reader since I haven't seen a single one and my thing is male reader fics. This was originally an NSFW but then I said ✨no✨.
This draft is many many months old. I'm currently at Disney World posting this.
Also, I HC Jake as bisexual w/ women preference and he just doesn't realize it until later on
--
When you first meet Jake, he's floored by how attractive you are. Normally Jake doesn't go for guys, but hot damn. You're one nice looking dude in his opinion and he couldn't resist this one
You're a mechanic who is the complete opposite of Jake.
Jake was a jock and you were the more "witchy" type (as Chuck described). You generally wore darker and more "rustic" (as Kevin called it) clothes with different gemstone bracelets or necklaces, depending on what you were doing that day. Your hair had grown out simply because you had been too lazy to cut it, so it was constantly clipped back
It amazed him that someone so cool looking would ever be a mechanic, and the others seemed to think it also (maybe not the cool part to them, but you in general working there). But everyone had respect for you like they did for the others. Chuck automatically gravitated to you since you were quiet and knew your shit. He appreciated the fact that you preferred to work in silence
Getting back to the point, Jake absolutely wanted to see you outside of work. At work. He wanted to always be around you
Jessie teased him for stumbling for your attention and making a fool out of himself around you. You'd just laugh at it and help him up if he fell
It went on for a while until one night, you were by yourself after shop closed up
It was quiet inside the shop and it rattled you to the bones every single time you heard a noise. You were trying to fix part of the car that had broke and you had told Chuck you'd stay behind. He told you not to, and yet here you were regretting staying
After a while of being paranoid, you heard the door open and a quiet whistle. You panicked and picked up a wrench, ready to fight
Jake came around the corner and jumped at the sight of you. You two both screamed and you threw the wrench
Thankfully, Jake was able to move out of the way on time. He stared at you for a second before whining about almost being hit
You argued back that it wasn't your fault and the two of your broke out into a full argument
You were defending yourself, as Jake shouldn't be here in the first place
Jake felt like you shouldn't throw things at people
The argument was stupid
"Why are you even here?" The angered tone seemed to snap Jake out of his frustration
Jake responded that Jessie forgot to turn off the simulation and he had to come back and turn it off
You sigh and turn back around. But then you realized that the simulation wasn't on when you got here. You stopped by the gym to check to see if anyone was there
Jessie was trying to set you two up
You huffed at the realization and shake your head
Jake starts rambling about how you two should totally hang out one of these days. He seemed to move past the fact that you almost hit him in the head so he could flirt
You watched Jake quietly, taking in his body language. His normal facade was almost convincing, but you could see he was fiddling with his bracelet slightly
It was a giveaway that he was out of his zone
You just smile at him and he stops rambling at the sight. He blinks at you with the half mortified look he usually wears when something he doesn't understand happens. He then takes a deep breath
"Would you like to go out some time?"
He actually did it.
You're shocked for a moment before nodding your head. What's the worst that can happen? You two don't get along and you have to change jobs?
Actually, yes. That is the worst that can happen.
You accept and tell him that it wouldn't hurt to try
He seems to absolutely light up in joy
The next day, Chuck simply stands next to you quietly as he inspects the part that you fixed. It only took him five minutes to finally say something
"Out of all of the people, you chose the idiot?"
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olivieraa · 3 months
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this scene is so funny to me.
like, I've seen my fair share of anime. If there's anyone that's aware of the sexualisation of female characters in media, esp anime, its me. my liveblogging consisted of two main things. loving on VA's and hating on what happens to female characters in... almost every damn show I've ever watched. it was constant.
it got to the point where I got nit-picky. there were shows where it was excessive, where it was a part of the show. and there were shows where it had maybe one or two scenes. and I still called those shows out, bc I was always baffled as to why there had to be even one scene where a woman's body was the centre of attention.
I could go into heavy detail on that but I'm tired.
so this anime. this anime is the second type. its not a fanservice anime. its an adventure anime. but to be who I am today watching anime vs who I was years ago, I see this in another light.
so like, we know that there's a lot of things girls and women cant do without it being sexualised. we know that femininity is so engrained in how we're raised and the standards all around that we're either "happy" to portray them and fit the mould of what we think a woman should look, act and dress like, or we're pissed off about it.
about not being able to eat a banana in public, about wanting to play outside in the dirt but you're not allowed ruin your dress, or if that's not mentioned, its the monitoring of opening your legs while wearing a dress in front of boys, its the desire to cut off all your hair so its not in your way when you're playing or eating but your mother says your hair is too pretty to cut off, etc etc.
yes I thought the close up of this girls ass was unnecessary. its the second time in 6 eps (which shockingly, is not a lot, but still too much), and they advance the plot in no way. I've talked about that enough.
but what I see this time around is-- I'm imagining a real life girl. she hasn't talked much this whole time. idk what her deal is. but two characters have brought up that she's a tomboy. she got naked in one scene not caring who saw (legit doesn't care if a dude sees her naked), and then there's this scene. and also she mentions that she's herself (a human, basically) before she's a girl.
so basically the universal rule here is "a girl shouldn't climb a ladder first because then her ass is visible (no matter the clothing type) and the guy can't NOT look like its right there why wouldn't he, so therefore it should be the guy that climbs first bc its not like the reverse would happen"
and this guys quote is basically him saying that she needs to be more conscious about what her body can do to a man. what her existence can do to a man. that she has to monitor herself bc if something happens to her, its her fault. that a womans life consists of making DUMB FUCKING DECISIONS like NOT CLIMBING A LADDER FIRST and over-thinking and over-analysing everything bc she dares to have a female body.
and then... we all know... what happens... when girls and women get absolutely fed up of these rules
they opt out.
they opt out of it.
and we're supposed to accept that as normal. somehow. that bc you decided you dont want to follow these "rules", you decide to... go a different path, rather than just, idk, not follow the rules.
that's literally an option.
to stay as you are. a woman. a female.
and not follow the damn rules.
nobody is forcing you to.
you're not breaking any grounds when you decide to go the other way. you're really not.
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nicetrynicetry · 8 months
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KOREA 58 pt. 4
Thursday and as I spot J swimming from the mezzanine while I walk lazily on a treadmill, the last thing I feel like is an art dinner - especially MY art dinner - in the evening. However I am constantly surprised on this trip by how much energy I have in me, and I decide to take the day rice dish by rice dish
We procure coffee at the hotel cafe - black ice for me, vanilla bean latte for J - and I tell him I think I have become that girlfriend on a date who orders the salad and then steals her boyfriend's fries throughout the meal, because I always take three grateful sips of his delicious sugary dessert of a beverage yet refuse to order one for myself. Though I do believe I truly never had a sweet tooth, I am still depressingly afraid of sugar. I still don't believe coffee should be yummy. We head to Sikijang, a ceramics store recommended by an ex hauser and wirth employee at last night's soirée, with a warning that what we find there may be so tempting it forces us to check an extra bag on the flight home. He was not wrong - I touch and hold every cup and teapot, taking an immediate shine to a series of dimpled dinnerware that looks like it's made of cellulite. I am tapped on the shoulder by a collector from Hong Kong who remembers me from 24 hours ago and says it's his favourite store. This gives us sudden access to the secret upper floors of the building, where I take photos of everything I want but shouldn't get, things that will be damaged in transit but that appeals to the smug version of me hosting friends in my new house who says "I actually got this lovely piece in Korea last month". In the end I limit myself to cutlery and chopstick rests only, figuring one of these will make a good gift for V. Today is about souvenirs that travel well and take up minimal space. The collector tells the store owner about my paintings and she says she will go to the show. Even the handwritten receipt when I pay is a work of art
While J deliberates over a set of cups, I step outside to perch on a concrete slab and N texts me that she found out D and the girl he dated after he rejected me in LA a year ago broke up. There had been an article about the girl - an internet celebrity of the 2008 indie sleaze era - in NY magazine a few months ago where she spoke of their plans to move to Connecticut and procreate on a farm. N says D went on a trip, came home, and dumped her suddenly. "Sounds familiar", I say to N. And I feel suddenly sad for the girl, who just dealt with what I dealt with but with higher hopes, more concrete promises. Needless to say I am also relieved, since the ambient shame of wondering what I did wrong with D finally has some logic to it: it wasn't me, he just does this to women. J emerges and I feel a kind of peace that has been a long time coming wash over me as we walk through Cheongdam park, the mix of the foliage and the wet heat smelling of a jungle
We eat at a place recommended by Y which translates to Cheongdam Nutritional Center and is famous for only serving variations on chicken soup. We eat this with rice, and it tastes like a risotto for the sick. There is a disgusting black spice atop that approximates burnt dust, which I surgically remove from an otherwise soothing dish. We head back to the hotel, jaywalking across a dangerous road to locate a cab J ordered before his phone died. We change, we caffeinate. We go to a series of souvenir stores near the museum. I buy a cap with Korean characters on it that translate to "soon to be pretty woman", implying that one wears it before cosmetic surgery. I buy a pair of earrings shaped like toilets. I peruse traditional Korean paint brushes. We go to a vintage clothing store, a basement with crinkled and sad mildewy denim jackets. I notice Y has parked in a space that is framed by thick pink lines, with an equally pink symbol of a woman in a wide dress painted in the middle. "Is this a women's parking space?", I ask. He says yes, it's meant for women drivers, and it is slightly wider than the other spaces. He says there was a news story about their introduction into Seoul parking lots bemoaning how the larger spaces imply that women are worse drivers. J and I laugh. "We ARE worse drivers", I joke. We strap into the car and tell Y to play Shania Twain as we drive to the show, where I show two curators around nervously and take the inevitable 3-4 photos with visitors. By 7pm J and I and Y and an Ilmin curator and two of J's American friends are on the roof smoking as the sun sets. I apologise for the Americans invading what is meant to be a secret rooftop just for my nicotine addiction in Korean to Y and the curator and enjoy the feeling of those I'm talking about not understanding, a brief interlude of bilingualism. They laugh and nod
We drive to dinner and pass a sign for a shop that says GOOD D, and J says "at last I found the good D", and we giggle and valet and go up to a beautifully understated restaurant run by two beautiful (gay?) women with two equally beautiful dogs. I dart past all the collectors present to celebrate me or whatever and go straight for the dogs, who nervously rebuff my caresses. I am relieved the restaurant owners are Korean women, because I remember V saying weeks ago "why the hell are we doing the dinner at a French restaurant?" and I had no good answers. And though the food is only slightly Korean, I ought never underestimate G's unmatched talent for dinner-planning. He regales our table with stories of the art world before tax audits and airport security, how collectors would pay for sizeable works in cash, and how he would stuff his coat with notes to fly to Germany to pay Sigmar Polke. We are transfixed, especially R who I think enjoys the gangster flavour of it. I glance nervously at the Ilmin curator for signs of discomfort, wondering whether this discussion of money isn't all a little gauche, a little American. We move onto the mistreatment of animals, and then to fisting, and then to Grindr being owned by the Chinese. An asparagus course comes to the table and I'm told in hushed tones that the chef went to the fair and saw my asparagus painting at the Werner booth, that this dish is paying homage to it. R draws my attention to the printed menu, the second course called "Lunchables 1", and gently reminds me that that is the title of the painting. I am embarrassed by the gesture, by not registering it, and that in general I could not tell you which painting from more than 3 months ago belongs to which title. I go to thank the chef and smoke on the restaurant balcony. Mere moments later I am joined by 3 guests and 2 staff members who it seems were waiting for a cue to take a break. Smoking is such a strange thing in Seoul, half-clandestine, half-brazen, both hidden and flagrant. One doesn't smoke somewhere til there's evidence of other smokers' presence. You see clusters of cigarette butts in strange places, and this is your implicit permission. It is not, I learn, a difficult set of rules to navigate. It caused me so much anguish before the trip, the unknowns, but I adapt. I forget I can adapt
We drive by a party after dinner and see that it is spilling over into the streets, make a swift decision to head to the hotel to sleep. I smoke alone on the hotel steps and finish the crossword, unsure of what time it is in New York where the crossword is prepared. Two Saudi Arabian men approach me for help calling a taxi and I tell them Uber works and they say that it isn't working for them. We love London, they say. I excuse myself, read on my bed. I am still awake at 2am, regretting the single sip of J's coffee during dinner, but perhaps also high (anxious?) from compliments. What is this crap the body pulls when you have had an intense evening but it won't let you sleep at the end of it? Is it some biological urge to go hunting for more flattery late into the night?
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the nice guy
this may have to be a part one of many. but it's not the first time either. just another familiar story
I was at the bar with my friends, as you do when you're young and single and pretty. Usually when you're drinking, but it's been almost a year since I've done that. You came up to me, my shining knight in armor, offering me everything you could imagine I'd want: "A drink?" "A shot?" "A dance?" "Let's get out of here?" After I'd dodged it all best I could, and I'd decided it was time to go home, you came about again.
I was taking my roommate home because she was blacked out and stumbling on the dance floor.
You offered to get us a lift.
I told you it wasn't necessary, as I was sober and I'd driven myself here and wanted to drive myself home.
Then you asked me if I would kiss you. In the bar. In front of everybody.
I laughed at you, because of course I did, and said "Absolutely not. I'm far too sober for that."
Then as we're leaving, you follow us out of the bar. You ask if I'll step aside with you. My drunk roommate is giggling and telling me to do it. It's 15 degrees outside and I'm wearing no coat, and you tell me if I do it you'll let me borrow your coat. So I put her on a bench and I walk over to you, where you kiss me with a mouth that tastes of liquor, with breath that is hot and needy, sour. I pull away as you try to initiate your tongue into my mouth. You frown. I'm already walking away.
You follow us to my car. "Could you give me a ride home, then, if you're sober?" I begrudgingly agree, because I'm not one to leave people in the cold. I ask where you live and you tell me to go to mine first, so you can help get my stumbling roommate into bed.
When that is done, I start to move again to the door where you stop me in the kitchen. You ask if you can kiss me.
No.
Can you stay?
No.
I don't think you were expecting those answers, which is surprising given that I haven't shown an ounce of interest the entire night. You go into it with me. How you're so glad that my ex and I broke up recently. How you've followed me on Instagram and seen me at parties for years, how you've always liked me. Even when you say that you only got out of your long-term relationship four months ago. How you can tell I'm different from other girls, how I'm special, I'm so smart and kind and sweet.
The heat is bubbling in my chest. This is the same guy that my other roommates have been friends with, the guy that one of them went home with blacked out less than a week before. He's in the fraternity that we've all hung out with since freshman year. Finally I can't take it. He asks me to please kiss him, and
"You just went home with ______. I can't do anything with you, and I really don't want to. Could I please take you home now?"
He says the most ridiculous thing. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life and I have my regrets." What? He says he was blacked out and shouldn't have gone home with her. While probably true, the way he talked about her filled me with disgust. "She's not like you, she was a mistake, I shouldn't have done that, I had to go get tested, she's not the kinda girl I want to be with," the drunk ramblings of a guy who thinks that putting other women down will make me feel special.
But putting other women down, to me, thinking that it will make me feel good about myself is wrong! I am every other woman I have ever met. I am my mother, her cheekbones, eyebrows, dark brown eyes. Her alcoholism. Her disappointment. I am my aunt, her cigarettes, her music, her movies. I am the girls that wore large bows in elementary school, the ones who showed up without shoes. I'm the girls that bullied me in middle school, with lip gloss and blonde highlights. Shrill laughs and inside jokes. I'm the female characters I read in books that I looked up to, I'm the historical strong women trailblazing through the centuries. I am my best friends, their smells, their passions, their favorite foods. Laying in their beds, hugging stuffed animals, holding their hands. Flat-ironing the back of their heads, fixing their winged eyeliners. I am the women I hate, the women who are subservient, who feel that they are lesser than so much that they force other women to be too. But I am them, and I feel them, and I know them. I know that female experience, because even though all these other identities intersect through that very large characteristic, "feminine," I am still within that. I still feel that in my bones, in my very experience. In every catcall I receive late at night and Instagram comment under a selfie. In the nights I wake up in sweat because I swear I'm back in my attacker's bed and he's going to do it to me again and he won't stop. In the keys between my fingers. In the lipstick on my teeth.
And I'm here. Still entertaining this man in my kitchen, as he puts down my best friend in an attempt to show me he feels nothing for her and everything for me. But if his previous antics hadn't already sealed the deal for his fate, the way he talked about a woman I love did. I gradually calm him down enough and offer to drive him home, because he will not be staying with me and I will not be changing my mind. He sulks and says he'll walk home instead. I tell him if this is yet another lame attempt to stay, it will be unsuccessful, but while I'm still being kind he should take advantage of my offer to drive him home. He doesn't, and I see him out the door, and lock it quickly behind.
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