#29 year old feels the same

[queenofshilla]

LINDA HAMILTON as Sarah Connor in Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) (dir. James Cameron)

#Linda Hamilton #Sarah Connor #Terminator 2 #Judgment Day #giffedbyme #1k #junkfooddaily #cinemapix #dailyflicks #filmedit #dailywomen #James Cameron #She was ripped in this #The determination to make Sarah Connor one of the best characters ever #And my all-time favourite female character #8 year old was fascinated by her #29 year old feels the same

[stuffedsand]

There's something interesting to be said about the opinions of different fanbases based on culture and how it affects the votes but it's late and I can't write it out too much so only one example for today: amane

Down under the cut so if it gets too long it won't affect anyone's scrollin

Also warning the tags are long on this one

- <- this indicates a new talking point

Basically I think the jp/more asian parts of the fandom tend to lean towards greater good (amane guilty to protect shidou/mahiru/fuuta because if shidous incapacitated in any way someone's dying, mahiru is prone to dying any moment, fuuta is prone to cult mindset rn). Despite my non japanese speaking ass not being able to gather direct evidence for this, I use those surrounding me (asian in asian country) as evidence; namely, how they're mostly amane guilty voters

-Now I'm not saying my personal take but the reason given for guilting her is well. As much as it will cause her more woe it's one way of guaranteeing the safety of the prison. Shidou is the only medical professional after all, and she's "completely hostile" towards him, acc to jackalope. And she doesn't need to overpower him; shes smart, and could sabotage his equipment or just like. Go for his hands to incapacitate him. I doubt he'd fight back.

-Alternatively, it's because it would cause her to fall back on believing she's right. Telling her she's forgiven with how she's acting would cause her to believe her persistance and dedication to this (harmful) mindset is what got her forgiven in the first place

-Meanwhile more western? English fanbase ig I'm not too sure of demographic, but the English speaking side tends to focus on how it affects her. Because of the belief that another guilty verdict will cause more harm to her, an innocent verdict is the obvious solution. What I've seen is the greater focus on what caused the murder over the murder itself and the effects of an innocent verdict on others and then her beliefs. A focus on the past over what she's promised to do in the present and future perhaps. Idk.

-Another reason for the difference could. Possibly be how punishment is viewed? Western countries have much more stigma over any form of punishment but in Asian countries it's normal. Now while I'd say physical punishment isn't the way to go, the refusal of punishment shouldn't be rewarded (imo) but that's all I'll say on it.

-The English fanbase also focuses a lot on how young amane is and how her circumstances were terrible and all that. Those around me tend to focus more on her thoughts around the crime, what she believes the crime was for and how in the right she thinks she is. This may also be the cause of the moral grandstanding I see so often (ie. If you vote amane guilty you're a baaad person) (I don't agree with this btw. That's stupid this is fiction don't insult others over an opinion)

What I will say is the English speaking side is more sympathetic towards amane. They (y'all?) Take her situation into a lot of consideration, and focus on her age as a large factor. Whereas those around me and I assume might be close to the views of the japanese fanbase are more objective, looking at what harm she could cause and what's the greater of the two evils, as well as what she's going to do with the verdict (ie. Use the inno verdict as her doctrines are correct and very right).

There's slight thought given to her age and circumstance of course, by it that's not the main concern rn. Given the current situation, most of my milgram voting friends stay certain that an innocent verdict will not end well, hence the guilty vote. I mean I have a couple friends that feel bad for guiltying her because of her circumstance, but do it anyway cuz it's for the better. My opinion is that she should've been innocent trial one, since we wouldn't have known the concequences, but it's too late now and an innocent will cause more harm overall

tldr asian fanbase from experience focus on the crime itself + what they're gonna do with that experience whereas eng speaking fanbase focus on the circumstances surrounding the crime and on judging only the crime

In myyy opinion. Judging only the crime based on your interpretation isn't how the system should be working, it should take into consideration the prisoners' attitudes and how the prisoner perceives the crime as well.

I hope this was coherent I typed it out at 11pm and went to bed immediately after and I've barely edited anything cuz awake me is less coherent than half asleep me

Also hope this was an interesting post? This topic is interesting to me but I explain better in speaking over typing so it's probably hard to read but I hope this topic scritches y'all's brains like it does mine :)

#milgram #amane momose #inder the cut to save space kekw #sorry if this post feels like im calling yall lab rats cuz i kinda am #treating the milgram tag like a giant social studies exam (i have not passed social studies this year) #ive done my beat to compare bur i lost half my thoughts while typing this out last night whoops #ive also done my best to be comprehensible but i have too many thoughts at the same time for that #alsp for the record im an amane neutral voter (i dont vote) #j have another point on the age thing about how while eng side takes young age into consideration #it also overstates the maturity of our older prisoners (shidou namely #as ive seen people say that medical guilt theory doesnt work cuz of how extreme his guilt is #of which belongs to a different post but basically dude hes only 29 thats not that old. also to lose everything at any age is devastating #moral grandstanding point may be more indicative of internet culture overall btw but i cant get data on that for jp fans #sorry for being incomrpehensible i jusy talk like this #also very important no insulting anyone in rbs. even if its not me. thats rude #long post #i have a great disdain for people who claim amane guilty voters are evil btw. respect others online ffs #anyways next post will be about shidou and theories around him #specifically my hatred for the organ harvesting theory and my proposed alternate theories #but rhat will be the next time im tired and insane #im also posting this relatively unedited so i dont chicken out 💥 im trusting yall

[shopcat]

liking mha to some extent even in the secluded Just thinking about it myself and occasionally talking about it with my friends and maybe now on here way that i do it builds up a world where i forget no one gives a FUCKKKK. about the characters that i do which is so funny. or at least not in the way that i do. like i don't care about todoroki's 16 year old love life i want to put him in a REALLY big puffy jacket and watch him walk around in it like snoopy. and so on and so forth

#🐾 #i like aizawa ... Shuffles my feet. i don't know. #well i don't care in the way some people care. i mean he and deku are cute objectively but it literally doesn't matter #AND I MEAN ONVIOUSLY i like aizawa because he is also like hot but i don't want to seek out content where he's being hot that's not how my #brain works. i don't need to see that it's embarassing... #also i don't think he'd have abs but that's a whole other can of caterpillars #people make some truly narsty fanart like omfg leave him alone he's not got much left in the tank #60 year old 29 year old man #i don't know how old he is. 31 maybe #it's between there #anyway it's kind of interesting re: the kids relationships in regards to lile well on the other hand i'm a fan of the atla kids #relationships but i don't know it just feels different and to the left... the atla kids are not perceptually 15-16 to me i s'pose #PERPETUALLY i meant #and i am just interested in their dynamics in any way about it or whatever #and i suppose the same for the mha kids but it's less. thog dont care #well thog cares but thog doesn't want to do deep introspective meta thog just wants them to be happy and wear silly outfits #anyways. #i do like some of the adult relationships but i don't know they're contentious and i don't know why so i stay silence

[polaroidcats]

today was one of those days where everything is just.. too much.

maybe it's the heat, maybe it's because my grandma was a bit more tired and confused than usual today, maybe it's because talking to a friend made me realise how incredibly boring and uneventful my summer is because i'm not going on any vacations and don't have exciting plans, but i'm in such a feeling-sorry-for-myself kinda mood and i hate it.

#ramblings #ughhhhhhhhhh i hate it i hate it a #i think it's also bc of my birthday coming up and turning 29 makes me realise i'll be 30 next year #which i KNOW means nothing but at the same time it's just a good opportunity for my brain to compare other ppls lives and mkne #*mine #and in the last years so many of old school friends etc started settling down getting married having kids etc #and like... i dont even want that #i was in the middle of my lets-have-a-gay-commune era when the pandemic hit and i became a caregiver with very little social life #and it just feels like.. i got maybe 3-4 years where i actually enjoyed my 20s and got to explore who i am and what i want #which is a lot and i'm grateful i even got to experience those yeare #years #but it also feels like i spent the last 3.5 years watching everyone else get on with their lives whilst mine is still on hold in many ways #ANYWAYS I KNOW IM JUST BEING DRAMATIC AND WILL PROBS DELETE THIS SOON BC ITS TOO PERSONAL #but i just needed to vent #and tumblr is the place to vent (sometimes)

[amarrymeinbostonwriter]

I would not suggest using the app Her. There are a lot of fake accounts on there. I was trying to use the app recently and three times the women I tried to talk to ended up being fake accounts. So I deleted the app. :/

Any other app suggestions of apps I should try? Good apps for bisexual women to use to find other gay friends or date?

#I feel like I didn't articulate this well last time I tried to post this #I'm trying to warn people and not complain too much since no one wants to hear that tbh #I've been catfished before...on a different app but it was frankly terrifying that time :( #I verified myself on Her so I could talk to real women but everyone was allergic to verification :/ #I'm pretty sure I'm bisexual which is why I was on Her at all #I tried both lex and Taimi before but they didn't work for me #it sucks that Her didn't work because age-wise there were actually options for a 29/30 year old #like I'm only 30 (tomorrow)... I was so happy to see other women my own age on there!!! :-: #by which I mean it wasn't all 20 year olds... (sorry but I'm ten years older so that doesn't work for me) #add in a gif of when Tiff was shocked and disturbed that Lexy was only 24...that's young to me too omg! #I think I had the Her app for about a month? I was using it in June but it didn't really do anything for me #most of the other real people were complaining about how other women wouldn't talk to them (I joined some of the groups on there) #same girl same unfortunately #I just think I don't know how to use these apps or my luck is bad or something?!? (bad timing maybe idk seriously) #dating apps #friend finding apps #bisexual women #wlw #mychatter

[bettyfrommars]

Touch my cheek before you leave me, baby

gigolo!Eddie x virgin!older!Reader

(part 2) (part 3)

18+Only, mature themes, intimacy smut, protected p in v, oral (f receiving), paid sex, pet names, insecurities, reader is wearing a skirt, f & m orgasm. WC: 2.8k

Summary: Reader is a 29 year old virgin introvert in need of a confidence boost. Eddie is hired to make our first time a good one. Eddie catches some feelings that he wasn't expecting. Tummy rolls are briefly mentioned, but not in a disparaging way.

A/N: I had this idea last night about him needing the intimacy as much as reader. And then my head started running with all of his possible other clients and the debauchery they could get into together, but this one is just sweet.

Today is your 29th birthday, and your friends pooled their money together to get you the one thing you desperately wanted: to not be a virgin anymore.

You hadn’t been holding onto your virginity for any particular reason, but there had been several factors at play.  First of all, you didn’t like to leave the house much, aside from going to work and the rare meetup with friends, and so the chance of bumping into a promising sexual partner in your hallway was remote.  Secondly, you considered yourself to be fairly plain; you weren't one of the babes that men drooled over or tripped over themselves in the street for.  The crushes you’d had thus far were never reciprocated.  No one had openly pinned over you or held a boombox over their head outside your window, and on the occasion that someone did show interest, they often did not earn your affections. 

Your friends decided, and you agreed, that your first time should be with a professional, a guy who could give you the best first time that money could buy.  

Enter, Eddie Munson.

Covered in tattoos, he played in a band, and  had a reputation around town for being a favorite sexual companion for bored housewives and curious young women alike.  He was notorious for being particular about the clients he took on, though, and he didn’t just advertise in the paper—you had to be referred by a friend.  

That friend came in the form Robin Buckley, one of the baristas your friend Nellie worked with at the coffee shop.

“He’ll treat her right,” Robin assured her, jotting the number down.  “Now, I’ve never needed his services, personally, but I’ve never met an unsatisfied customer.  He makes women feel…desired.  As they should.”

So, there you were, two glasses of wine later, perched at the edge of the sofa in the lobby of the hotel where you’d been told to meet him.  Your friends knew exactly where you were, and there had been paperwork to fill out and sign—you didn’t know gigolos needed official signatures, but all the same, it stripped it down to a business transaction which is basically what it was. There were a few boxes to check off regarding things that turned you on and, conversely, triggers that he should avoid saying or doing during your time together. Did you have a praise kink or a daddy kink? Did you enjoy the use of pet names within intimacy, or was that something he should avoid? Hair pulling, choking, spitting, ass play, all of it was available for a check mark and you felt like you had the potential to compile one seriously huge fuckfest ice cream Sunday.  

He knew you were a virgin, and that you might not even know if you’d like some of the things offered, and he promised to take that into consideration to enhance your experience on the whole. 

Once he had accepted you as a client, he gave Nellie a safety list of things that would make your experience more enjoyable, and one of them had been not to drink too much, because he didn’t want you to engage in any activity you might regret.  Another one was to dress comfortably; there was no need to try and impress him—he was the one who needed to impress you.  

And impress you, he did.

He showed up earlier than expected, beard stubble grown in and a little scruffy (because you said you liked it that way), long hair tied back, button down black shirt cuffed at the elbows exposing his tattoos, and black jeans.  He also had a bouquet of yellow daffodils clutched in his fist, wrapped in cellophane.

His eyes locked onto you immediately and you watched them light up; a smile breaking the sigh that hitched in his chest.  He put the palm of his free hand over his heart as he walked toward you.

“Damn, baby, you are a sight for sore eyes,” he was beaming genuinely, as if he really meant it.  “Even better in person.”  Your friends had shown him a photo of you so that he would know what you looked like, but you had no idea which photo it was.

You didn't feel like you looked good, though, so you lowered your eyes as you got to your feet on wobbly legs, feeling frumpy and bloated, taking in the sharp reminder that he was being paid to lie to you.  You were so nervous, your palms were sweating, and the wine was churning sour in your stomach from the swarm of butterflies in there.

“Hey,” he got close enough to crook his finger under your chin and tilt your head up; his golden flecked, rye bread eyes were serious.  “You know how beautiful you are, right?”

All you could do was nod under the kind assessment of his stare, and it made a smile stretch across his lips. “That’s my girl,” he said, introducing himself properly, handing you the daffodils.

He knew that daffodils were your favorite flower, because of the paperwork you filled out, but you never expected to receive any, since they weren’t even in season.  There must’ve been a flower shop somewhere that had them, and Eddie had found it.  He offered his elbow for you to take.

There were two other people in the elevator, and he pulled you back flush against him, possessively holding you by your hips.

Eddie had a key to the room, and once he pushed the door open, you could tell he’d already been there.  The lights were all off, but for a lamp on the opposite side of the bed near the window, and two candles lit on the desk near the TV.  What you assumed was his leather jacket was the only thing hanging in the closet.  You even spotted Magnum condoms and a fresh bottle of lube on the nightstand.

“How’s the lighting, sweetheart? You want me to turn that lamp off?” 

You specified that you wanted the room to be dark, maybe just enough light to see what each other was doing, but you didn’t want him to see you in full brightness.  This whole time, you’d been too nervous to say more than one or two words.  

“Because, if I’m being honest,” he slid his hand up the side of your neck, palm warm against your skin.  “I really want to see you.”

“It’s fine,” you choked out, unable to hold eye contact with him for too long.  God, you bet he was already regretting taking you on as a client.  What a waste of a boring evening for him; but, at least he was getting paid.  

Yet, not even a flicker of his enthusiasm for you left his eyes.  He took the daffodils from you and put them on the dresser at the foot of the bed.  

When he turned back around, he cupped both hands around the sides of your throat, thumbs at your jawline.  “You can trust me baby.  If things start moving too fast, you let me know okay?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever been kissed before?”

You bit your lip and then, “a couple times. I had a boyfriend once, but it was long distance and it—”

But then Eddie’s hands slipped up to cup either side of your jaw, fingers slotting at your ears.  He nudged your nose with his, then then he kissed your top lip, parting them with his tongue.  

You closed your eyes, letting him move your head from side to side, and you couldn’t help the moan that squeaked out of your throat as arousal built between your legs.  He smiled against your mouth, nuzzling your nose.  “You’re a good kisser, baby.”

Deciding you liked it when he lied, you allowed yourself to become an active participant and slid your hands up his ribs, clutching him, pulling him closer.  He kissed you softly a few more times, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, and your hand found the courage to travel down yonder and see what was below his belt.  

What you found made your eyes fly open: not only was it huge, but it was hard.  

Eddie chuckled.  “See what you do to me?”

The one thing you had done several times was given a few blow jobs here and there, and so you were working his belt open and dropping to your knees at the same time when he stopped you, catching you at your ribs to pull you back up.

“Tonight is all about you, angel,” he assured, urging you back to drop down to take a seat on the bed.  You stared up at him while he straddled your legs and unbuttoned his shirt.  Once the defined muscles of his chest and scattered tattoos were exposed, he helped you take your shirt off, pulling it over your head, and then he knelt before you.  

You braced your hands behind you as he pushed your skirt up  your thighs, maintaining eye contact.  He caught a glimpse of the lacy underwear you had on and he lifted an approving eyebrow.  

You swallowed hard, and then he was sliding the underwear down your legs and off, kissing your knees as he went.  He came closer, arms nudging your legs wider, taking a glimpse at the glistening gift you had for him underneath.  

Eddie bit his bottom lip, making a hungry groan.  “You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?”

“I think so, um, yes?” your hips twitched forward a bit, begging.  Normally, you were too shy to let others go down on you, but you were determined to get all you could out of this night, knowing it was a rare opportunity.  

He brushed his lips along your thigh as his hands worked your skirt up higher.  You shivered when you felt the warm breath on your swollen lower lips, and then he was watching you as his tongue flicked out in a few kitten licks.  After a taste, enjoying the way you writhed, he buried his mouth, moaning, fingers clutching your thighs.

“Grab my hair, baby,” he said.  “Tell me how much you like it.”

So, you did just that.  His ponytail tie was off, so his hair was around his shoulders, and you slid your fingers in to hold on as he took you in his mouth and rolled your bundle of nerves around with breathtaking accuracy.  

He'd only intended to tease you a bit, but once he tasted you, he couldn't stop. He had his tongue buried inside as soon as he was able, feeling the tip of his cock leak at the gift of your arousal.

It wasn’t long before you could feel yourself beginning to unravel, at it was the first time another person had brought you to that peak. The tension mounted in your belly, going taunt, before it sprang loose and a fizzy warmth gushed through your nerve endings. “just…like that,” you told him.  “I think you might make me…”

You held his head as you were cumming, leg jerking, head falling back, pining his ears wth your thighs.  

He wanted you to kiss him right then and there so that you could taste your release on his mouth, and you obliged, holding his face as you did so, melting into the moment.

For the next minute, you helped each other undress, and it was all happening so organically—it felt so real—that you could almost imagine he was actually your boyfriend, or someone who at the very least, wanted to be. 

Both naked now, he held you close as you stood next to the bed, tracing a finger down the side of your face.  “Are you ready, baby?”

Truly, you’d been ready your whole adult life, and you were glad you had waited for Eddie, even if this was a paid arrangement and you’d probably never see him again.

His lips tended to your neck and your breasts while he worked the condom on, making the educated decision that you were so soaking wet, he wouldn’t need any extra lubrication.  

It was the intimacy that you’d specified wanting to feel; like he was no stranger to you and this moment was something special between two people who felt deeply about each other.  So, he came down close and gave you exactly that, putting his forehead to yours.  “I’m gonna go slow at first, okay?” He breathed.  “You tell me if it’s too much?”

“I will, baby.”

He smiled at the way you returned the use of the pet name, feeling your body open up beneath him as anxiety and doubt morphed into trust.

“Shit,” Eddie broke character for a second as the tip sank in, caught off guard at how tight you were, and he had to pull out again for a second to catch his bearings.  

It was the closeness that he loved, too---he craved it.  He’d never had a client who wanted it this way, and it was the main reason he’d taken you on.  It wasn’t the virgin aspect—surprisingly enough, he’d been a first-time experience for a good handful of his customers.  It was the opportunity to pretend he was someone’s boyfriend for the night—a role he hadn’t played in real life for far too long.  The chance to pretend that you both cared deeply for each other and no one else in the world existed.  

He sank in this time a little further than the tip, and you cursed, but then nodded for him to keep going.  “All of it, baby,” you urged, leaning into your role.

Your core was rippling around his length, aching for more.

He went half in and dipped it back and forth a few times, pausing to watch your face.  

“I’m worried that I–” he started, but then he realized he was breaking character again, and the vulnerability made him stiffen.

“What are you worried about?” You whimpered as he stretched you out a bit more.  Your legs were wide, bottoms of your feet planted on the bed.

He thrust in with a shudder, both of you gasping.  “I’m worried I might like this too much.”

Inside, there were party streamers exploding in your soul at the mutual yearning that ebbed between you.  As you gave yourself over to him, there was a feeling that he was also giving himself over to you, and it felt so real, that you rode the wave with every fiber of your being, wrapping your legs around him, kissing him deep.

The kissing and the endearing moans were about to make him cum, so he sat back, shaking his head, and hooked your knees over his elbows.  

He took you in from under hooded eyes as he made long, slow thrusts inside.  “You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart."

You were so deep in it, you actually believed him this time.

“Harder, baby,” you coaxed. 

That elicited a coy smile and an eyebrow wiggle from him.  “Oh, that's my girl,” he breathed, and then he was fucking you so hard your tits bounced, as did your belly rolls, and you could tell he was getting off at the sight.  His thumb found your nub and worked there, making you expose your throat with a whine, enjoying the wet slap of your arousal as your bodies met.

The connection and intensity between the two of you was palpable, and you couldn’t tell if it was manufactured or real, but regardless, you could feel another velvet bomb inside of you about to explode.  

His eyebrows were pinched when you found his eyes.  “I’m close, I’m close, I think I’m…”

The closest you’d ever been to knowing the sweet pull of a mounting orgasm be gore that night was from those moments alone with your vibrator, and having your hole satiated by Eddie thick cock enhanced it in a way you could’ve only imagined.

“Fuck, me too,” he grabbed your thighs with both hands and buried himself over and over.

It never happened this way.  In fact, there had been several times when he had never cum at all: he was always very content to make it about the other person.  He fully intended to wait for your second orgasm before he even tried to relieve himself, but this time it felt too good; he wanted it too fucking bad.  

Your head snapped to the side as you came, babbling his name, walls clenching around his cock in a way that sent his hips jerking, pounding against you, pretending his seed was filling you up instead of a condom.  

Eddie bit his lip as you both chased the high, and then his sweaty forehead was on yours again, long hair grazing your cheeks.  He needed to kiss you when he was done, and that was how you liked it, too.

Your friends had only been able to pay for two hours' worth of Eddie’s time, but you ended up staying for much longer than that, at his urging.  He coaxed you over to lay all of your body weight on him, and the two of you stayed like that, listening to each other breathe. You called to give them this update, and the confusion in Nellie’s voice was priceless.  

When you were both getting dressed, Eddie started buttoning his shirt while you sat down to put your shoes on.

“Hey, so, if you ever want to do this again,” he swallowed, thinking of his words while you waited, head turned to look at him.  He couldn’t meet your eyes, he just kept fumbling at a button.  “You wouldn’t have to be a client.  I mean, I wouldn’t charge you.”

Part 2

#Eddie munson #eddiemunsononeshot #Eddie munson smut #fem reader #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #sweet eddie munson #Spotify #gigolo!Eddie

[zeldasnotes]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS 29

CHECK OUT → 24 25 26 27 28

🀧 Someones Ascendant in your 8th house = them disliking you/heard a bad rumor about you but once they get to know you/talk to you for the first time they will become completely smitten with you. Or vice versa.

🀧 People talk about how vengeful scorpio placements are but have you seen libra placements? Their symbol is literally the scale. For them if they dont get revenge the scale is not even. The sign of justice and balance. You do something to them they have to do something to you.

🀧 People with Venus aspecting Neptune either dress like its Milan Fashion Week or like a 3 year old picked out their outfit.

🀧 8th house synastry just like neptune creates almost like a fog. There is like a view of the person as much more attractive and scary etc. If you fight with someone you have 8th house energy with it will be hard to forgive and forget because everythong they do is seem as more intense and bad (like with chiron. And the same when it comes to attraction. A person with zero sex appeal will look sexy to you if yall have 8th house synastry. So 8th house can create the rose colored glasses too.

🀧 A lot of people with Venus in the 10th house grew up with parents who cared a lot about image or looks. They learned from an early age how to behave and to always look good when leaving the house. My baby sister have this placement and both my dad and step mom think that respect is everything. I remember the disgusted look on my dads face everytime i wore something slighty sloppy.

🀧 Taurus IC spend more money on the clothes they wear at home and their pyjamas than the clothes they wear outside. At home is where they need luxury. The ones most likely to have brand name towels and furniture.

🀧 Aquarius Moon might be a leader of a group or the most popular/prominent/well known person in their friends group.

🀧 Aquarius placements pick up on trends from others countries fast. They love being the first one to do something.

🀧 People with Pluto or Lilith harshly aspecting Moon have a lot of fears and triggers. Emotional life can be super intense here to the point of them constantly being in survival mood. Having Moon in an air house/air degree can soften this intensity a little.

🀧 Saturnians care a lot about how friends/partners treat them infront of others. Im a saturnian and I could never be with a partner who lectures me in public. Agree with me in public and then lecture me when we get home, dont make me look stupid and leave me fending for myself.

🀧 Saturn 2nd house might struggle with self love and self worth a lot during their younger years but when they finally realize their worth there is no going back.

🀧 People with Mars conjunct the angles attract a lot of conflict without doing anything. Almost like universe wants them to learn to fight or something. People respond to them aggressively bc they feel threathened so people are extra harsh towards them. For women having Mars conjunct the angles can be hard because people dont treat them as ”gently” which can make them feel less attractive/feminine. So if you have this trust me its not you its them, they are just threathened.

🀧 Libra Risings dont handle rejection well because they NEED people to be attracted to them and want them. Just like Cap Rising cant handle being disrespected and Leo Rising cant handle being ignored.

🀧 Cancer Descendant might like traditional roles in a relationship. One makes the money, the other takes care of the home. Instead of 50/50. Depends on other placements tho.

🀧 People with Venus Square Ascendant gets involved in weird situationships. Because they attract the same sign that their Venus Squares (their 7th house sign). For example a Cancer Rising with Libra Venus will most likely attract a lot of Capricorn Risings because thats the sign of their 7th house. They are attracted to Cap Rising but at the same time something with the Cap rising bothers them since their behaviour dont match what Libra Venus finds the ultimate behaviour/look.

🀧 Lilith Squares are common in people who just dont click with the opposite sex. Like no matter how attracted you are it just doesnt click on an emotional level.

🀧 You will most likely feel competetive or threathened by anyone who got your Sun sign in their inner planets. They represent something that you consider yours, something thats tied to your ego.

🀧 People with Lilith conjunct Venus are attracted to the outcasted. They cant help but be drawn to the one others dislike. Men with this aspect might fall for the ”town wh*re” (im not slutshaming).

🀧 Aspects to Neptune can show who/where we tend to believe easily and Pluto where we can be very paranoid. Pluto/Venus = Paranoid in love. Neptune/Venus = Naive in love.

©️ 2023 Zeldas Notes All Rights Reserved

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #lilith #birth chart readings #lilith aspects #asteroids

[gonnagowherethedreamersgo]

I didn’t plan anything for my birthday cause I literally don’t know how and now there is an event on my birthday weekend (inevitably cause it’s summer) and I’ve taken it as a personal attack on my entire existance

#like how dare you do something on MY birthday that doesn't revolve around me even though I made no effort to make any plans #I also have to work my actual birthday this year for the first year ever #I feel the same existential dread about turning 29 as I did 19 #I think it's the last year of the decade thing that makes it hard to process #like the end of teens end of 20s are a big deal and makes me feel old and not ready to move on #I'll probably just cry on my birthday like the self obsessed leo that I am

[charcoallbaby]

professor sturniolo

smutttt everyone is 18+ nothing is underage.

my longest work yet! watched millers girls and got inspired, enjoy ! ending is petty hehe ^_^

do you ever wish you could have someone you know you can’t have? especially your married professor.

well that was me two months ago

i placed my books down onto my desk infront of me. the class was empty other than me, two quiet students sitting at the back and the professor of course. he had his back to us, writing the subject of todays class onto the chalk board. i studied his broad shoulder that flexed underneath his thin shirt.

i looked down at my blank phone screen. a notification quickly popped up. it was my mom.

mom💝

me and your sister are going out before you come home, we’ll be home late. make sure no drinking when i’m not home !!

“good morning everyone!” the professor spoke.

i quickly locked my phone before looking up. “well to the 3 people here,” he cleared his throat then leaned against his desk. he scanned his eyes around the room looking at us. his eyes met mine. i could feel my stomach drop. “while we’re waiting for everyone else would you like to introduce yourselves?” he crossed his arms. his eyes were still directly on mine. i looked down at my phone, reminding me of my mothers text. i rolled my eyes. she always has some excuse to not be home.

“you!” the professor called out. i quickly looked up. “me?” i pointed my finger on my chest. he nodded his head. “im y/n,” “y/n y/l/n.” my voice was shaky. “nice to meet you ms y/l/n,” he gave me a small smile. i gave him one back.

he was about to speak before he got interrupted by students piling into the room. “ah!” “you guys decided to join us,” “i’m mr sturniolo.”

he passed papers around the room. he was standing above me. i looked up at him before he placed my paper on the desk. he stared down at the books placed infront of me. “that’s a good one,” he pointed at my current read. i looked down at his hand especially a ring. fuck he’s married.

the book was was the virgin suicides.

“have you watched the film?” the words spilled from my mouth. “yeah i have actually, great movie too.” he gave me a smile before walking back to his desk.

“the paper i gave you is very important, so keep it close to you, if you lose it i sadly cannot replace so please do me and favour and don’t lose it,” someone raised their hand. “claire was it?” she nodded her head. “why can’t you replace a piece of paper?” she laughed. “something about the usage of paper, listen i have no idea, it’s a policy here,” his eyes quickly scanned to mine. he turned around and broke it. “now t-” he was cut off by the loud door opening. “sorry!” my best friend ivy smiled and rushed to sit beside me. “it’s fine, just don’t be late next time.”

“he’s so fucking fine,” ivy whispered into my ear. i turned and looked at her. i shook my head. “are we looking at the same person up there?” she looked at mr sturniolo. his back was to us. “look at his back,” she wined. “i would eat that up!” she licked her teeth. i rolled my eyes. “he’s like ten years older than us,” i placed my pen between my teeth. “what age are you?” “you look very young for a professor!” ivy spoke out. the whole class erupted into laughter. i face planted my head onto my desk. he cleared his throat. “that’s very inappropriate question to ask….” “ivy!” she spoke. “well ivy that’s a very inappropriate question to ask your professor but i’m 29 and im guessing you all are what 20, 21?” “im not that old.” i finally lifted my head. “good to know thanks!” ivy smiled.

class finally ended. people were packing up their belongings. mr sturniolo made his way towards us.

fuck.fuck.fuck.

he looked at me before looking at ivy. “ivy can i speak to you?” he asked. “sure!” she zipped her bag up. “i’ll leave you guys sorry.” i stood up. “no need,” he fidgeted with his watch strap. i nodded my head. “don’t be late and please don’t make comments or questions like that anymore please ivy?” “i don’t wanna be the asshole teacher, can you do that for me?” i looked down at his hands again.

“sure, sorry.” she gave him a awkward laugh.

“great, see you guys tomorrow!”

it’s been a couple of days. i catch mr sturniolo staring at me every once in awhile, but im in the one who started staring first, so he’s just innocently staring back.

i was the first one in class. i internally sighed and found myself to my seat.

“morning ms y/l/n,” mr sturniolo turned around from the chalk board. “morning mr sturniolo,” i took my books out of my bags. “did you anything nice this weekend?” he asked. “um, went to a party wasn’t that fun though i went home after awhile, i hate going out,” i twisted the ring on my right index finger. “its been awhile since i’ve been to a college party, they usually aren’t that good aren’t they?” he let out a chuckle. “no not really, especially the boys,” i looked down at my lap. “one day they’ll realise they’re idiots don’t worry,” i looked up at him. “let’s hope!” the classroom door opened making us both look at it.

“y/n talk to me please,” my ex friends with benefits/situationship chase walked up to me.

“what the fuck?!” i exclaimed. “why are you coming to my classes chase?” “please, i need you so bad,” he whined. i let out a shocked laugh. “okay buddy that’s enough,” mr sturniolo stood in front of him. “professor please!” “no, out of my class!” “but!” “your harrasing one of my students leave now!” he pointed the door. chase growled and sped out of the room.

the class was now starting to fill up. he leaned down on my desk. “you okay?” his eyes met mine. i nodded my head. “i know it’s none of my business but see me after your classes today okay?” “okay.” i said softly.

i stood beside mr sturniolo’s desk while waiting for him.

the door opened, he hurried in.

“sorry y/n!” that’s the first he called me by my name which made me feel a way i know i shouldn’t have liked.

“it’s okay,” i licked my lips. “anyway i just wanted to ask if you want me to report that guy who came in earlier?” he titled his head while looking at me. i swore i tried to hold in a whimper. i looked down at the ground. “no, it’s okay thank you though,” i gave him smile. “you sure?” i nodded my head.

“yes he’s just some loser he’ll get the message soon.” “ex boyfriend?” he asked.

i wasn’t an expert but i knew he shouldn’t be asking me that, but i didnt mind.

“no……” “something worse you can probably imagine what i’m talking about,” i gave him a straight lined smile. “ah yes i can!” his cheeks quickly heated up. “i’ll see you tomorrow mr sturniolo.” “have a good day!”

i got home and layed down onto my bed, looking up at the ceiling thinking about the day.

especially mr sturniolo. his broad shoulders and his long fingers. i closed my eyes. having a wild imagantion was a blessing in disguise.

i slowly moved my hands down under my jeans, unbuttoning them and discarding them somewhere in my room. i slid my hand under my panties, i was soaking because the thought of him. holy fuck this was so wrong. he was my professor. he was a married man.

i slid my middle finger inside of me. i let a desperate moan.

“look at you,” “your in such a mess underneath me y/n." i picked up the pace, adding a second finger while imagining them words coming from his mouth.

his pretty pink lips eating me up as i grab onto his hair and watch his broad back clench.

it didn’t take me long to clench around my finger and shiver. i took a deep breath, trying to get my breathing back to normal. god i’m fucked up, i needed severe help.

i got to class, it wasn’t empty which i was definitely thankful for.

“morning ms y/l/n,” mr sturniolo spoke. “morning.” i muttered for a response. ivy was already sitting in the seat beside me. she finally didn’t skip.

“i didn’t get a morning,” she frowned. i rolled my eyes and took my seat beside her. “he’s just being nice,” i stated. “yeah sure, he stares at you like your a piece of candy waiting to be eaten,” she looked down at her nails. “what?” my mouth suddenly got dry. “he wants to fuck you bad, i can tell!” the glimmer in her eyes shined. i shrugged my shoulders. “i don’t think so,” “of course you don’t, you think no one wants you when your hot,” “he doesn’t want me.” i tapped my finger off the top of her nose. she smiled at me. “denial, denial, denial.”

i couldn’t concentrate in class after ivy’s comment and the fact that mr sturniolo wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. i shouldn’t care, but i do.

“mr sturniolo!” ivy exclaimed as people started to leave the class. “yes?” he looked at ivy. “ms y/l/n here is having problems with her paper!” ivy shot up. “oh you are y/n?” mr sturniolo asked. “i-” ivy cut me off. “sorry i have to go, my next class is on the other side of campus!” she scurried out.

“what’s the issue with your paper?” mr sturniolo stood behind me looking down at my work. “mr sturniolo-“ “you can call me matt,” he spoke. i nodded my head. “matt,” i cleared my throat. “i know im not a writer, but i feel like i have writers block, i have no idea to write about” “there’s nothing that comes to my mind,” i looked up at him. he was staring down at me. he looked so yummy oh my. “well, you want ideas?” he stood up straight. i nodded my head. “something you fantasise about, could be a dream job, something you wish could happen but you know it can’t, it could be a person,” he licked his dry lips. i gulped. “so you want me to write about something i wish i could have?” “i have to write about a fantasy world, a world i wish i could live in?” i asked. “that could work,” he rubbed his jaw. “okay thank you!” i gave him a small smile. “of course, just email me if you need any help.” he nodded his head. “definitely.”

“i’m jealoussssss!!!!” ivy put her head back and groaned. “you realise you have to fuck him now?” she sat back up and sipped her drink. “how?!” “i’ll just walk up to him after class and ask him to fuck me?” “yes!” ivy yelled. i laughed and shook my head. “listen, i’ll do the dirty work for you,” “which is?” i wondered. “i’ll be nosey in class and ask him does he have any plans for the weekend and if he gives us an answer, boom we show up there!” she smiled. “will this work?” “oh yes.”

“oh i didn’t realise you came here weekly ms sturniolo!” ivy exclaimed. “did you follow me here?” he asked looking me up and down. “no we’re here with some friends you know chase right?” she asked. “yeah i do,” he sipped his drink. “i’ll see you soon mr sturniolo.” ivy ran off as she always does.

“you look nice,” matt spoke. “you too matt,” i gave him a smile. “why are you here alone on a friday night?” i leaned against the bar. “i don’t know either y/n, i probably should be correcting papers but i’d rather be drinking my sorrows away!” he finished his glass. “i get you, i hate correcting papers on a friday night too,” i joked. he laughed. “you wanna go outside for a cigarette?” i asked. “i don’t smoke, but sure.” he grabbed his jacket.

he followed me outside. i put the cigarette between my lips, lighting it and slowly inhaling. i passed him the cigarette. he gladly took it and placed it between his lips. “thought you don’t smoke?” i turned to him. “thought you didn’t like going out?” he raised an eyebrow at me. “fair point,” i took it from his fingers. “your way too mature and way too much of a perfectionist for my class you do realise that don’t you?” matt leaned his head against the wall beside us. i smiled. “totally not true,” “i bet you have an apartment that’s perfect, i bet everything is planned out,” matt smiled. “i wish, my controlling mother told me that i still have to live with her while im in college, she says she wants to keep an eye on me but she just doesn’t want to me to turn into a drunk just like her,” i passed him the cigarette. “your not that type of girl from what can i see for the outside,” smoke exited his mouth. “and what can you see for the outside matt?” i looked up at him. he dropped the cigarette “a smart, smart girl,” his warm hand met my waist. “oh really?” i tried to contain myself. “mhm.” he mumbled while leaning down.

his soft warm lips met mine, it was better than i would imagined. i hungrily kissed him back, my hands wrapping around his neck. he pulled my bottom lip between his teeth making me feel dizzy. “you wanna go somewhere?” he asked. i quickly nodded my head.

we ended up at an hotel.

matt pressed the key card against the reader. the door beeped, matt pushed the door opened.

“sorry it’s a bit messy, i just got here last night,” matt stated. “why are you here?” i let slip out. “i caught my wife cheating on me again,” he sighed before shutting the drapes. “again?” i wondered. “yeah i caught her awhile back, i forgave her but i fell out of love with her a long time ago,” he cleared his throat and placed himself down onto the bed. “im sorry.” i bit my lip. “it’s good, c’mere,” he put his hand out.

i walked over to him and took it. he smiled up at me. his hand met my inner thighs, making me glad that i picked out a mini dress. "no panties?” matt growled. i gulped. he pressed his thumb to my clit. i whined. he looked down at his hand while slipping his fingers inside of me. a small moan came from my mouth. he moved his fingers inside of me. “matt.” i whined as he worked fingers deeper inside of me. he leaned his forehead against my stomach. “i wish you weren’t this wet, i would of loved to work for it.” his voice was deep. my eyes rolled onto the back of my head.

dirty talk never did it for me usually, but i never wanted matt to stop talking.

i grabbed onto matt’s hair. “there it is, it’s right there isn’t it?” he panted. “mhm,” i mumbled as he pounded his fingers into me, hitting my g-spot. “keep going,” “i’m not stopping until you finish all over my fingers baby,” his pace slowed down suddenly, i was confused. he took his fingers out, licked them and put his head between my legs. “lay down, so i really taste you.” i quickly followed his order and layed myself down.

matt laced his fingers up and down my wet my folds. “i bet you taste sweet do you?” his eyes looked dark. “i-i don’t know,” i whined. “taste yourself then,” he put his fingers infront of my mouth. i took his fingers into my mouth and licked them clean. “you do taste so sweet,” he dipped his head low between my legs. his warm tongue met my folds. he came back up. “you want me to ruin you?” i nodded my head. “i need a answer princess,” he took his shirt off. “yes, yes.” i breathed out. “let me eat you up first.”

he was roughly eating me out like he couldn’t get enough of me. my legs were wrapped around his shoulders, his hands were gripping my thighs.

matt made me come with his mouth, which has never happened before especially with a man.

“your so wet and silky,” his tip met my folds. a quiet moan came from my mouth. he pounded into me. his hand was hovering over me grabbing onto the headboard, he was making the whole bed shake. but i had always had a feeling he liked fucking girls rough.

i was dreading class after friday. matt fucked me until the sun came up, god it was a come fest.

me and ivy found our seats, i stayed quiet, he didn’t say hi to me which he does most mornings but he fucked me all night on friday so i guess he’s done with the hi’s now.

“morning everyone,” he rubbed his hands together.

he had his ring on. i looked at ivy who was too busy looking at her nails. “ivy,” i whispered. “yeah?” she looked up at me. “he’s wearing his ring,” i gulped. she didn’t answer but only looked at matt.

“this saturday me and my wife went on a little trip so i haven’t corrected any papers that were handed in yet, but you’ll get them by this friday i promise.” he spoke. me and ivy quickly made eye contact. “wife?” “i thought she cheated?” she whispered. “well apparently he’s back with her, he got back with her the last time.” i sighed.

“what is so interesting girls?” matt interrupted us. “oh nothing, just talking about boys you know how it is mr sturniolo!” ivy winked. he let out a heavy sigh. “alright guys topic for today is on the board,” “ms y/l/n, could i speak to you outside?” i froze. “yeah sure.”

i followed him outside. this is the day i die.

he closed the door after me. “what?” i crossed my arms. “i dont need your attitude,” he snapped. “did your wife cheat on you because you have angry issues or are you guys back together now?” i titled my head. “actually!” “i couldn’t care less,” i smiled. “i wanted to say me and my wife are fine, i love her and friday was a mistake i wasn’t in the right head space when i found her and some guy in our bed,” he sighed. “don’t trauma dump on me, i couldn’t not give a fuck about you and your wife, but if you love her so much did she know you were pounding inside of a 21 year olds pussy on the weekend huh?” “be quiet!” matt whispered. “fuck you.” i opened the door to the classroom.

“ivy let’s go get your bag,” i stated. “what?” she said confused “we’re leaving this assholes class room.” the whole room was staring at this point.

matt walked back in flustered.

“just to let everyone know, this man right here, your teacher, indulges in sex with college girls!” i yelled and left the room. “he also has a tiny dick!” i yelled before the door shut.

“is it actually?” ivy asked. “no it’s huge but i can’t let people know that.”

hi! this ending is kinda silly <3333

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #imagine #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #smut #pov

[cherry-leclerc]

back to you ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, oldmoney!reader, strangers to lovers

word count: 3.1k

Fixated from the moment he first saw you, Carlos stays missing someone whom he never even properly met. But that all seems to change one night when you unexpectedly show up to a business dinner.

req!... i'm such a liar lmaooo (iykyk). hope you enjoy, my lil anons :) hope this heals some of the heartbreak we all endured today !!(*bashes head against keyboard*)

It almost seemed like you had something up your sleeve, a tactic to retrieve all of his attention away from the camera shoved right in front of him - media duties.

“Hello guys, just wanted to come on here to say that I think we gave it all we could during today’s race but there is definitely always room for improvement…” Blah, blah, blah. 

He can’t quite figure out what he’s saying because his brown eyes are attached to the pretty girl walking right in front of him. Not behind him, trying to catch up. Not besides him, begging for a photo. Nope, right in front of him as if you could care less that you have one of the most popular drivers to ever exist almost chasing after you. 

He could hear you mumbling about God knows what to the girl walking besides you. The Spaniard feels like a total creep when it comes to him becoming more alert to possibly catch your name. As you were saying? The media team manager stares back expectantly once Carlos blanks out. Though it wasn’t that unusual. 

The 29 year old flickers his gaze back to the camera and then back to where you were, only except, you’re gone. Out of sight and his heart stops for a nanosecond.

“Onto the next week. Vamos.”

-

“So then, you have your upcoming shoot for the new fireproofs, testing, stimulator - if we have time, interview at…” 

Carlos tunes out as he blinks at the never ending list as if it were just another Monday. Charles nods attentively, though he also looks far too uninterested. They were exhausted.

“And dinner tonight to meet our new sponsors.”

“Another one?” Charles asks, a slight crack in voice as he tries to pretend he wasn’t at all annoyed. “We just had one last night.”

Maria musters up a stern look. “Yes, again. They’re a lovely family, so we want to impress them with two well-behaved drivers.” The Ferrari boys swallow their laughter as they nod their heads. Got it. 

It takes all of Carlos’ remaining willpower to get ready for dinner that night. On the way to the small Italian restaurant, he second guesses even showing up. He could fake a fever. A sore throat. Shaking his head, he curses as he steps out of his custom Ferrari. 

“Oh good, I thought it was just going to be me,” Charles jokes as soon as he spots the Spaniard. Carlos chuckles before greeting the team. About 10 minutes go by before the Monegasque grows impatient as a child. I could have finished watching my movie.

“Shut up,” Fred murmurs before abruptly standing up from his seat. “Ah! È così bello rivedere finalmente te e la tua famiglia!” Choking on his champagne, Charles scrunches his nose before flying up and introducing himself. Carlos bites back a smile as he follows his lead. 

And there he sees you, standing elegantly with a silk dress that looks as soft as your skin. You’re smiling sweetly at everyone, stepping in to not just shake their hands, but also go in for a small hug. Your mother and father repeat the same action, though they later focus all of their attention on Fred and Maria. 

The Monegasque kicks his teammate’s shin. Carlos winces as he shoots fiery daggers. “We hit the jackpot.”

“What?”

Charles' shoulders drop theatrically. “Are you kidding me? Are we looking at the same girl right now or are you just blind?” 

But he did see you, and he never quite forgot about you since that day. He could feel the tips of his ear burn bright red as you made your way over to him and his teammate. Charles, so nice to meet you, the green eyed boy beams before going in for a hug. You smile from ear to ear.

“Nice to meet you, too! I must admit; I’m a little starstruck right now.” Charles blushes fast as he stutters his way around such a compliment, even if he’s received thousands of the same one before. “Ah, this is Carlos.”

“Hello,” he feels himself saying. “Carlos, nice to meet you.” As soon as you look up at him, his breath hitches and fears you might feel his sweaty palms flourishing against your soft ones. And if you do, you choose to ignore it as you share a small smile, the kind you share when you see someone after 15 years. 

The kind that seems forced.

“Ditto.”

With one last glance, you excuse yourself before making your way over to where your parents and Fred chatter about upcoming plans. Carlos blinks. “Wow. No hug,” Charles points out. “That’s weird. She was basically giving them out for free.” 

“Be quiet.” 

The remainder of the night you kept to yourself, occasionally inputting your own opinion with a polite smile drawn onto your fruit punch lips. Very well mannered, Fred would approve as you would bow your head with shyness. Carlos quirked a brow of curiosity. 

He wondered what he might’ve done wrong. Had he been too forward? Cold? Often, his parents would claim he could be like that sometimes, so maybe? He wasn’t clinging onto the fact that he was the only one who didn’t receive a warm greeting from you, but he was left with questions.

“E tu, tesoro?”

“What about me?” you repeat, hair fanning along your face like a shiny curtain. Maria chuckles. How do you feel about being a part of this new chapter? You think about it for a second before settling with the safest answer. “Very proud, there’s nothing better than tying links with such a superior team.” Fred roars with genuine laughter as he pats your father’s shoulder. Smart girl.

“Why fine jewelry?”

“Pardon?” 

The inquiry was directed towards your parents - who would clearly have the answer - but his eyes were trained on you, leaving you to fend for yourself. Lips part slowly as you connect with Carlos’ intense attention. “I’m curious, that’s all. I’m delighted we have you as our sponsors, but I was just wondering what made you dive into the business? Must be hard.”

Squinting your eyes, you click your tongue. It’s in our blood, your father’s voice cuts your train of thought. It’s what we do, what we love. But his warm gaze sticks to you like hot glue. You clear your throat before returning to your wide smile. 

“I think it’s safe to say that diamonds are beautiful. They are scarily so crystal clear that for a moment one might search for a trace of color. And then they do come in other colors, so it’s really no problem,” you say, soft chuckles circling the table. “But I believe it’s also safe to say that we don’t often think about how they got here, shining around many ring fingers.” Your mother approves as she shows her mind-blowing diamond cut. 

“Miners are the answer. They work hard - get their hands dirty - because they know that while it may not be easy to find such precious things…” His eyes roam your lips before dancing back up to your orbs. “It’s very well worth it.” Taking a sip from your glass of wine, you raise a brow. “That’s why.”

-

“It doesn’t even feel that tough to wear these pieces,” Charles squeaks as he slips on a white gold bracelet around his wrist. “They’re breathtaking.”

Clapping, you squeal at his words. For a moment, Carlos thinks about punching his teammate for getting to see your good side. They’re great, thank you again. You just tip your head towards him to confirm you heard, and slide away. Carlos sighs.

“This is ridiculous. She can’t even look at me.” The Spaniard bites his cheek. “Do you think she hates me?”

“For doing what?” Charles asks, face pinched with confusion. Carlos huffs, arms flying up.

“I have no idea!”

“Well…I don’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

“No.” He groans. “Can you picture how awkward that would be? There’s no way.”

“Suit yourself.”

-

Pouting, the brown eyed boy zigzags his way into the studio, mentally preparing himself for hours of blinding lights. “Buongiorno, Carlos!” Spotting your father with his arms wrapped around his wife, he walks over with a tired smile. How are you guys? “We’re fine, son, thank you for asking. Tell me, are you excited for this weekend?” He instantly stands up straighter.

“I am. The Tifosi are always great to be around. Gets hectic, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“I can imagine. My wife and daughter are always amped up when it’s finally Monza’s turn.” He hums, almost as if he’s reminiscing. “Tell you, my baby would beg for us to take her to cheer on her favorite drivers. It’s kind of a full circle moment so don’t mind if my wife gets emotional.”

“Stop,” your mother sniffles as she shares a grimace. Told you, your father mouths. Carlos laughs. 

“I completely get it, it must mean a lot to all three of you. Maybe that’s what makes this partnership work all the more.” Your fathers winks, large fingers wagging over at the Spaniard. Working over time. I respect it. 

“I see why my daughter likes you.”

Carlos halts. “Sorry?”

The older man pants, seeming comedically defeated. “Are you kidding me? She adores you! You've been her favorite driver since you joined Formula 1.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Her love towards the sport had a huge impact on us to join as sponsors, but to be fair, we probably still would have done it. Like I said, it holds a special place in our hearts.”

“Buongiorno,” your soft voice echoes, skipping happily to greet the Ferrari team. Everyone’s energy quickly picks up as you flow with such easiness, skirt wrapping around your waist, making you seem like the only flower in an empty garden. Talk to you in a bit, you cheer as you make your way up to your parents. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you spot the grumpy brunette. Like always, he can physically see you create a wall around yourself, keeping you from him. He felt like the Beast drooling over the rose inside the glass. “Good morning, Carlos. Logo looks good,” you hum, dark red pedicure pointing at your last name printed onto his fireproof. “Can’t wait to see how it looks on Charles.”

His jaw ticks. “Why don’t I call him then?”

“That would be lovely.”

He’s jealous. Of course he fucking is. He might have found out your whole act is a facade but that didn’t stop him from feeling this way. He could have been your favorite at one point, but what about now? It sure as hell didn’t seem like it.

“She wants to see you.”

The Monegasque furrows his brows. Who? But as soon as he notices his teammates' sour face, he registers the reason for his bad mood. “Stop pouting. You look like you just sucked on a lemon.” Carlos shoots a deadpan expression. “This has gone too far. It’s obviously bothering you.”

“What? You nagging?”

“Okay, ouch.” The green eyed boy takes a small step towards the Spaniard. “You don’t like it that she’s ignoring you because you like her.”

Carlos jumps off the couch. “I do not!” Charles hums. 

“Oh shit, good, then I could ask her out.” He beams. “I wouldn’t want things to get weird between us.” Carlos' heart almost jumps out of his chest as he grows nauseous at the thought of you saying yes. He continues. “I’m telling you; I have a good feeling.” The brown eyed boy clenches his jaw. “It’s like this - I could see myself marrying her, having a baby heiress-”

“Okay fine, I like her!” He pants. “She drives me so fucking crazy. Whether she looks my way or not, she makes my head spin. Ever since I saw her at the Canada GP, she’s been imprinted into my brain like a lecture I’ve been told over and over, time and time again. It makes me sick that she seems to almost get sad when she’s around me. The way she can never look at me the way I’ve always looked at her. And I’m…” He looks down at his race boots. “I’m too afraid of ruining something that I don’t even have a chance at.”

The Monegasque pats him on the shoulder, lips stretched out into a teasing smirk. “Now, was it that hard to admit your feelings?”

-

It was that hard to admit his feelings. He thought about it for the first time since he met you. Confess everything that’s been locked away deep inside of him; claim his feelings like some kind of gold medal. But then he saw you radiating pure perfection and he would turn the other way. You hated him, he’s sure.

“Alright Carlos, push, now push.” 

He could taste it - sweet victory that he badly craved. If he played his cards right then he could get second place, which was pretty good in comparison to past results. 

The Spaniard tries to not feel too upset about coming in third and waves up at the Tifosi who let out blood curdling screams. Pride rushes through his veins as he walks onto the podium, he didn’t even mind all the attention. Especially the kind you were gifting him with.

The way you smile so big that your perfect teeth shine up at him, eyes crinkling like a love letter. Cheekbones slightly pink from cheering so loud but also from the bright sun. He swore he was on some kind of drug. 

Making his way back into the motorhome after all the interviews, he bumps into you and your parents. “Like it?” he asks as he displays his trophy. 

“Definitely,” your father beams. “You deserve it, son, enjoy it.” After a few more affirmations, he and your mother walk away. Brown orbs find your own. 

“Have fun?” He tries to ease his deep voice, to appear more outgoing, to not scare you away. And yet, you nod, looking down. 

“He’s right. You totally deserve it.” And for what seems like the first time, you bless him with your warm stare. “Felicidades, Carlos.” Pink paints his cheeks. You speak Spanish? Your eyes grow wide as you feverishly shake your head. “I-I- I don’t, but I’ve picked up on a few things here and there…”

“From me.” He tilts his head. “You actually pay attention to me.” 

You can’t help stutter like a broken record. “Of course-e, I ha-ave ears.” You show them off like a weak justification. “See?” you squeak. Playing with the hem of your dress - that had him swallowing a string of moans the moment you walked into the garage that morning - you slowly started backing away. “I should go now…” You point towards the sliding doors. “See you later?”

But he knew there would be no later. Fuck, this was the most you’ve spoken to him since, well, ever. He wouldn’t let that slip away so easily. Even if his heart got bruised along the way. 

“Did I do something for you to hate me?” 

Your brows narrow like a little kid. “You think I hate you?” 

“It’s okay if you do, I suppose, but I’m just lost as to where that happened? Did I-”

“I don’t hate you,” you softly speak up, eyes shut in disbelief that you’ve made him feel that way. You blink back at him. “I promise you, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Okay, he confirms.

“Why can’t you talk to me then like you do with everybody else? Why can’t you even spare me a passing glance?”

His voice sounds desperate now, he knows it, but he was desperate. Now you were embarrassed that he continues to bring up more and more of your poor behavior - but it was never intentional. You twirl a strand of your hair before releasing it.

“You intimidate me.” 

The Spaniard squeezed his fist around the trophy. For a moment, he thought he would dent the steel. Your stomach drops at the sight and he feels guilty for proving you right. He lets out a shaky breath. 

“I’m not a bad guy, y’know? I’m sure it may seem like it, but…” He licks his lips. “I’m not.”

Doe eyes flutter like butterfly wings. “I believe you, Carlos.”

“Good. Now, would you please tell me why you always escape when I’m around?” You softly curse as you pinch your hand for a second. 

“I wasn’t lying; you do intimidate me. But not in the way you might think.” Like an angel, you make your way closer. “You’re my favorite driver, you know that?” The Spaniard’s brown eyes grow wide. You laugh. “Ever since you-”

“Joined Formula 1.”

Your jaw drops. “My father ratted me out?” Panicking, you pace the room back and forth. You could only look at him for a couple of seconds before planting your stare at anywhere else that isn’t him. “I told him not to say anything! Oh God.” You let out a maniatic chuckle. “I swear it’s just a tiny crush, it’s not even that deep - I’ll get over it!”

Now it’s his turn to geek out. “You have a crush on me?” Crap, you groan, biting down on your nail. He didn’t mention that part, did he? Brown strands of hair shake back and forth as you sigh. 

“Forget I said anything, I am so sorry for making things awkward-”

“I’ve seen you before.” What? The 29 year old winces. “At the Canada GP. You were walking with a friend.” Synthia, you whisper to yourself. “I was being filmed for feedback on the race and you were about 5 steps in front of me.” You counted? “I said about - and for months, you were all I could think about. You sort of stuck to me like a nostalgic scent. I don’t know why I felt the need to talk to you, I mean, it’s never happened to me before. I looked away for a second and you were gone.” He shares a lopsided smile. “Then I saw you again.”

“And I blocked you out.” You bite your lip. “Shit, Carlos…I had no idea you felt this way.” He shrugs.

“It’s my fault. I never told you.” Still, you try to reason but he only brushes you off. “It’s not your fault.” 

“But it is,” you whimper. “I acted like a complete snob and belittled you.” Your heart breaks at the image. “And you’re telling me it’s been mutual all along?” 

“Looks like it. This is good though.” How? The brunette winks as he pulls you in. “Because now we do know and I can take you out sometime?” You quirk a brow.

“It works just like that?” 

He hums, comfortable with the two trophies pressed up against him. “Only if you want it to be like that.” You can practically hear your crazy heartbeat with the way he’s looking down at you - as if he’s just discovered a previously nonexisting star. With soft hands pressed onto his suit, your eyes twinkle.

“Just like that, then.”

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz angst #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #scuderia ferrari #formula 1 #formula one #carlos sainz f1 #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #cs55 #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz drabble #charles leclerc #carlos sainz jr

[ukrfeminism]

We’ve been chatting for about half an hour when Eloise lowers her voice to a whisper. Until now she’s been confidently talking through the ups and downs of being a 19-year-old woman in a world she finds unsteady. 

She’s annoyed that, on TikTok, the advertisements she gets are keyrings with rape alarms and “stabby kitties” (a cat-shaped metal keychain with pointed ears sharp enough to cause damage), feels that modern feminism sometimes goes a bit too far, but having grown up in the age of nudes, she doesn’t really trust men. Which is unsurprising considering the story she tells me next.

“So a boy I know was asking a girl at his school for nudes,” she says, quietly. “And then when she refused, he threatened to rape her.” The boy was 14 and had recently posted an Andrew Tate video to his Instagram page, which was Eloise’s first encounter with the online influencer. 

“It said stuff like how women are your property and that it doesn’t matter if women say they’ve been sexually assaulted; if you’re with them that’s your right. I didn’t like it,” she adds.

Tate has made several appearances in the headlines this week. On Tuesday, a Romanian court rejected his appeal to ease the ban on him leaving the country as a legal case against him – in which he’s charged with human trafficking, rape and forming a criminal gang to sexually exploit women – continues. He denies all charges against him. The following day, Ipsos polling for King’s College London’s Policy Institute and the Global Institute for Women’s Leadership found that one in five men aged 16-29 who have heard of Andrew Tate have a positive view of him.

Separately – or, arguably, perhaps not – another survey published in the same week underpinned a renewed focus on the attitudes and beliefs of Generation Z, this time from the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS). The research asked just over 3,000 adults of varying ages – 50.6 per cent of whom were female – about their understanding of rape and serious sexual offences, and the law on consent, and drew troubling conclusions.

Overall, 74 per cent of people surveyed understood that it can still be rape if a victim doesn’t resist or fight back, but the number fell to just over half (53 per cent) of 18-24-year-olds who had the same understanding. Less than half of respondents from this age group recognised that victims might not report a sexual offence to police immediately, that being in a relationship or marriage doesn’t mean consent can be assumed, or that if a man has been drinking or taking drugs, he’s still responsible if he rapes someone. More than 70 per cent of over-65s recognised that even if no physical force is involved a person might not be free or able to consent to sex, compared to just 40 per cent of young people.

Previous generations have become used to hearing that rape myths and misconceptions continue to persist, but that’s precisely why this week’s grim trinity of headlines stings. “There tends to be a public assumption that things are generally always getting better,” says author and feminist campaigner Laura Bates. “Actually, views like these are incredibly widespread among young people.” 

Bates regularly works with schools, talking to pupils who often tell her that “rape is a compliment”, that “it’s not rape if she likes it” or, “it’s your boyfriend, you have to have sex with him”.

She adds: “Attitude surveys have to be taken seriously because they are a real red flag that we’re going backwards – we’re seeing much more extreme and concerning misogynistic attitudes among the youngest generations than we are among the oldest. We have to face up to that and ask, why is that happening?”

Gen Z has never been neatly contained. Growing up as the first digital natives in the chokehold of crisis – climate, Covid, cost of living – has seen them praised for their social awareness, but disenfranchised and forgotten by politics. Their extremely online nature has given them unprecedented access to the world and other people – but, of course, that’s a double-edged sword.

“The internet has made everyone’s voices louder, but that means the most misogynistic people in the world are heard more too,” says Niya Clement-Hickson, a 26-year-old marketing designer from London. He says his generation has been “kind of ruined” by social media.

“You’d be surprised at just how many people around my age will argue that Andrew Tate is not as bad as he seems.”

When I spend an hour talking to 16-year-old Tate fan Manus from Ohio on TikTok, he says exactly that. He’s relatively timid and seems unsure of what he thinks at times, but came across Tate aged 12, being drawn to his motivational speeches, humour, and attitude towards making money. “[Tate] kinda showed me how people really are in reality,” he says. On Tate’s assertions that women are the property of men, he says those beliefs are simply from the Bible (though Manus himself is Muslim).

He maintains he’s never seen Tate speak violently about women, and when I send him leaked voicenote recordings of Tate saying that he enjoyed raping a woman, Manus is certain it’s fake “probably to make him look bad”. I ask for his views on feminism and he responds that feminists now want “superiority” and “more rights”. What rights exactly? “More rights in general,” he says, vaguely.

This opinion is not a rarity – there’s a pervasive idea circling comments sections and pub corners that the pendulum has “swung too far”. “Some of us warned that when you continue to suppress their identity by telling young boys that they are inherently toxic, they’ll start acting irrational,” one comment under an Andrew Tate post this week read. But it’s not just boys who hold this idea. Early last year, a survey from Ipsos UK and the Global Institute for Women’s Leadership at King’s College London echoed this and some of Eloise’s views that feminism has gone too far. They found that 52 per cent of Gen Z and 53 per cent of millennials believe that we’re now discriminating against men. Less than half of Gen Z respondents said they defined themselves as a feminist.

Was it coincidence then, to see that shortly after the research was published in March 2023, the year of the girl was in full swing? A persistently pink summer was punctuated with girl dinners, #tradwives – modern women who believe in traditional gender roles – and stay-at-home girlfriends sharing their daily rituals on news feeds. New York magazine’s The Cut declared it “Woman in Retrograde” as the year came to a close; a cluster of reactionary elements to a significant demise of mainstream feminism.

This shift back to traditional behaviours is also present in younger men, says Niya. “A lot of guys feel that their role is all about providing money, being a protector. But they feel they deserve to get something out of the interaction. They just can’t deal with being told no.”

In terms of consent, does he hear attitudes that put women in danger? “Absolutely,” he replies. Niya didn’t learn about consent in school – “I don’t think it was ever talked about beyond ‘don’t have sex until you’re old enough’” – and thinks this is quite common for men of his age. For Maya, who’s 24 and neurodivergent, the line of consent is difficult to pinpoint and somewhat shaped by social media. There’s a “disconnect” from what she really wants – and is able to articulate – in the moment.

“I think that we do have less and less sex and more and more porn,” Niya adds. “And I think that once porn is your main and in some cases, only engagement with sex and women, then that is going to completely screw up how you see sex.”

Do all roads lead to porn? Probably. Clare McGlynn, who is a professor of law with particular expertise in sexual violence and online abuse, says: “We know that algorithms promote more extreme content, more hate – and many, many younger people, men and women, are getting this. Millions of people, as we speak, are watching mainstream online pornography that is racist, sexist, misogynist and violent in its content. Of course, it’s shaping attitudes and lives.”

“There’s certainly a pressure on young boys and men, for example, to be taking and sharing nudes – they’re part of a culture that is encouraging them to,” McGlynn explains. During a study, she looked at what material was presented on the homepage of popular sites – she found landing pages which were filled with sexually violent material. “So it’s also not them even actively choosing that material; we’re part of a culture that is grooming young men, teaching them expectations around sex – and asking them to accept and normalise it.”

What appears clear from the survey conducted by the CPS is a dangerous lack of understanding of what constitutes a crime. “I do lectures on criminal law and I’ve had students come up to me afterwards and say that they didn’t know they had been sexually assaulted or raped,” McGlynn adds.

Laura Bates says that we’re in the midst of a “crisis of sexual violence among young people”. 

“Deeply misogynistic misinformation is being spread to young people online at a rate that most people just have absolutely no idea about,” she says. “And there is a massive knock-on effect.

“Some will look at these surveys and go, well, what does attitude matter? But you have to draw a connection between these really worrying attitudes about rape and the fact that nearly 80 per cent of young people told Ofsted inspectors recently that sexual assault is normal and common in their friendship groups.”

So what can be done? More responsibility and accountability from social media companies, says Bates. Tate’s content – some of which reportedly shows him attempting to beat a woman with a belt; she later hides behind a locked door – has been viewed more than 11 billion times on TikTok, she says, adding: “That’s more than the population of the planet.” Last year, advocacy group HOPE found that more 16-17-year-old boys had watched Tate’s content than had heard of Rishi Sunak. “I think it’s really important that the government supports high quality, age-appropriate sex and relationships education,” she adds. 

Actively listening to and engaging with boys – as seen in initiatives like the state of New York’s Starting the Conversation campaign – is also important. Boys must have a safe and judgement-free environment to express themselves: the more their experiences of rape culture are internalised, the more difficult they are to see.

The Online Safety Bill, which was enacted in October last year, she says, was a missed opportunity for change. While it asks for more transparency on social media platforms and imposes sanctions for those not following the act, along with criminalising cyberflashing and sending unsolicited nude images, “it went 250 pages without mentioning women and girls once, until campaigners changed that”, Bates says.

“It’s so much more effective to focus on prevention of radicalisation than trying to unpick it once it’s happened,” she says. “Young people really are prepared to listen and prepared to change their minds, it’s just a shame this isn’t happening in every school.”

“It does make me worried about how safe the world is going to be,” says Eloise, who will begin her twenties in the summer. “What if people really start thinking that women are property again?” Then, she’s quiet again. “I really hope it can change.”

#Articles #community #MVAWG

[harrysfolklore]

this picture i need it in a bubba blurb ASAPPPPP -🫶

OKAY HEREEEEE

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

“Daddy?”

A soft voice calling for him made its way to Harry’s ears, a voice that belonged to his three year old son, who was curiously peeking his head inside his home studio.

Ever since his little boy was born, Harry made the decision to switch everything up regarding his career, taking longer breaks between albums and tours and building a full equipped music studio in his home. He just didn’t want to be away from his wife and son, specially during his first years of life.

“Hey buddy, what are you doing over there?” Harry said as he moved his hands away from the piano tiles and looked over at the little boy who was just a replica of him: same green eyes, dimples and brown curls. It blew anyone’s mind when they saw how alike they looked.

He had been working on the same melody all day, he was in the process of writing his 5th studio album, the first one as a father, and he wanted everything to be perfect. The album was all about fatherhood, falling in love with his wife all over again and overall this new chapter of his life, he was happier than ever and that’s what the songs he had been writing told.

“Come here, baby,” Harry opened his arms, motioning the little boy to join him “I’ve missed you, would you like a cuddle?” his son curiously dragged his small feet across the room, Harry had noticed how much he liked his studio, and how fond of music his son was, always asking his mummy to play his favorite songs around the house and his daddy to sing for him. It warmed Harry’s heart every single time.

“Cuddle daddy.” the little boy mumbled as he climbed on the piano’s bench -with Harry’s help, of course- and placed himself on his lap. If there was something that Harry wouldn’t change for anything was cuddling his son, so when his baby adjusted himself on his lap and buried his face on his ribs, putting his little arms around his broad frame, he could feel his heart growing twice is size.

Harry kissed the little mop of curls and lingered his lips on the crown of his baby’s head, sometimes he couldn’t quite understand how he got so lucky to have the perfect little family. He found his soulmate when he was 22 and knew he wanted to marry her, he put a ring on her finger at 29 and now, at 31, he had a little bundle of joy that was a mixture of him and the love of his life.

Life couldn’t get any better.

So with a full heart and a sudden burst of inspiration, he went back to playing melodies on the piano, careful not to disturb the little boy in his arms.

“Music?” the boy beamed as he moved his little face from its position on his dad’s ribs, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm over hearing him play “That’s right bubba, daddy’s playing music, you like when daddy does that, don’t you?” Harry cooed, he was man enough to admit that his little boy made him melt with every single thing he did.

“Play daddy” his son said as he sat up straight on his lap, his gaze fixed on the piano in front of him, and since his wish is Harry's command, he continued playing soft melodies for him.

Harry wanted to take that moment in and save it forever, he was unaware at that moment, but his wife was standing at the door frame, capturing the both of them in a picture that would be part of his album's booklet in the future.

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[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 29

Part 1 Part 28

“I’m going,” Eddie asserts.

“This isn’t up for debate, kid,” Hopper sighs.

“You’re right because I’m going!”

Eddie’s shouting at the chief of police and can’t be bothered to care. All he can think about is Supergirl shouting Steve’s name with desperation. Steve curled into a ball in his closet; the place he’d dragged Eddie on instinct. The place he’d gone to keep himself safe.

Hopper glares at him before clearly giving him up as a lost cause and turning his glare on Wayne.

Wayne holds up his hands, palms out, saying, “don’t look at me. That boy’s been obstinate since the day he was born. If he’s set on going, I’m gonna go with him.”

Wayne pats the shotgun slung over his shoulder as if to remind himself it’s there. Eddie blows out his breath, shoulders slumping in relief. He is not in this alone.

“Wonder where he got that from,” Hopper mutters, turning and stalking over to where Joyce is standing beside Will. “Stay and watch the kids.” He says it like an order, ignoring Joyce’s exasperated expression as he heads toward the exit. No wonder the guy’s single.

Wayne and Eddie share a glance before following in his wake.

He looks back once, to where the kids are still seated on the bleachers to get one last look at Will. The fishhook in his sternum is pulling him in two directions, like a medieval torture device. But Will nods, so he goes even as it hurts.

Eddie grumbles half-heartedly as he levers himself into the back of Hopper’s police truck, Wayne and Hopper settling much more comfortably in the front seats.

“This brings back memories,” Eddie says, looking fondly down at the black burn on Hopper’s upholstery where Eddie had put out his cigarette as a pissed off fourteen-year-old.

“Shut the hell up,” Hopper replies while Wayne just laughs.

It’s a short drive, the way anything in a small town takes about ten minutes to get to. Hopper cuts the headlights early, slows his truck to a crawl to keep from veering off the dark road. Eddie’s knee is jumping up and down with the need to move.

When they stop, it’s not at a building or a gate, or anywhere much at all. Hopper pulls his truck off the road, half-hardy putting it in park behind a grove of trees. Eddie resists the urge to shake Wayne’s seat back and forth like an unruly child when the man takes his time to get his old bones out of the car and set Eddie free.

Hopper fishes a pair of bolt cutters out of the back and leads them into the forest. It’s dark. A normal, dark forest, with the right kind of shadows and the right kind of wildlife. It should feel like relief. It doesn’t. It doesn’t take long to come to a nondescript bit of chain-link fence.

It becomes clear what the bolt cutters are for quickly.

“This is your plan?” Eddie asks, incredulous. “A little B & E?”

“It worked last time, didn’t it?” Hopper asks, not looking over at him, concentrating on snipping away the fence and entirely missing the point.

“Did it?” Wayne asks.

Hopper lets out a quiet, “mmhmm,” as he finishes cutting away enough of the fence for them to slip though. “Come on, trust me.” He slips through the hole, shirt getting briefly snagged before pulling free.

Eddie follows immediately, Wayne following behind with his usual quiet grumbling about being too old for this.

They start walking, nothing to differentiate one side of the fence from the other. Eddie huddles close to Wayne as they walk, feeling the breeze kick up through the same ratty jacket and vest he’s been wearing for almost a week now. He wonders if Steve’s cold, or if he grabbed a blanket before bundling up and waiting for rescue.

The trees have just started thinning when beams of light are suddenly jumping around the forest. For a second, Eddie thinks they’ve already somehow made it into that other place, the Upside-Down, and someone is walking over their graves, but then a voice yells, “freeze!”

Wayne yanks Eddie behind him with the lapel of his vest before raising his hands. Hopper steps in front of them both, raising his hands as well, palms wide and far apart. Eddie knows when to take his cues. He raises his hands.

“Let me do the talking,” Hopper says quietly.

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, because you’re so charming.”

Hopper’s fingers flex, like he wants to clench them into fists before he thinks better of it. “Trust me,” he hisses.

With no other options, Eddie sighs out a quiet, “fine,” just before his hands are wrenched behind his back and handcuffed.

It’s not a long walk until the building looms in front of them. He’s not sure if it’s the gun pressed into his back, or the tidbits he’d caught about how the super-powered girl came to be, but the building seems to loom over them ominously, more the mouth of a monster than the pulsing red doorway into the Upside-Down ever was.

Eddie doesn’t struggle until Uncle Wayne and Hopper are lead down one hallway while he’s yanked down another by the crook of his arm.

“Let me go,” he snarls, ignoring the gun still aimed at him, and the way the chain digs into his wrist as he struggles. “Uncle Wayne!” He hates the way his voice cracks on the words.

“Hang tight,” Wayne calls. “We’ll be back.”

He says it like he’s in charge of the situation. As if he’s not also handcuffed and being led away at gunpoint. It makes Eddie’s shoulders loosen anyway, panic receding just enough that he lets himself be shoved through a doorway and into a chair, hands uncuffed just long enough to cuff him to the back of the chair instead.

The room is small and sterile – grey walls, grey table, grey chair. Black camera recording him from the corner of the room. Eddie slumps, trying to look glib and uncaring, curling his fingers hard into the chain of his cuffs to stop his fingers from trembling.

Everything just keeps going wrong. He got out of the Upside-Down, but Steve was still stuck there. They get a plan to get him out and are immediately held at gunpoint and shoved into separate pseudo prison cells.

Steve could be dead my now. Will’s out of his sight. And the last he’d seen of Uncle Wayne was him striding down the hallway with a gun to his head.

Eddie takes deep breaths, trying to stay calm. Counting to four breathing in, counting to six breathing out. He loosens his hands, softens his shoulders, softens his brow. Closes his eyes. Breaths. Keeps breathing until the door opens, then closes with a metallic clang.

A nondescript older man with white hair walks into the room. He’s got a dark grey suit on, matching tie, button-down shirt tucked into pants that look like they’ve been ironed. He stands like he’s used to being listened to. Posture as straight as the line of his mouth as he takes a seat on the chair across from Eddie, crossing his legs at the ankle.

“You must be Eddie Munson,” he says, raising his mouth in a smile. It makes Eddie shiver. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t look away from the predator in the room.

“We know you were there,” the man says, crossing his hands atop the table. When Eddie still doesn’t say anything, he continues. “Six.”

The silence grows stilted. Uncomfortable. Eddie’s not sure the other man is even blinking. Or maybe he’s somehow blinking at the exact same time as Eddie?

His throat is dry – it makes an audible clicking nice as he swallows, before finally speaking. “What?”

“Six people have been taken this week. This thing that took you. Took Steve Harrington and Will Byers?” he says, leaning forward in his chair, back still straight as he looms over Eddie. “We don’t really understand tt.”

The last line comes out in a whisper, like he’s an extra in a horror movie, trying to spook the main characters into running away before the final confrontation with a great evil. Eddie’s pretty sure the greatest evil is sitting right in front of him.

“But its behavior is predictable. Like all animals, it eats.”

Eddie is unpleasantly reminded of Nancy’s spiel in the Byers dining room, watching her string together observations like she could wrench the facts out of them. She would make a far more dangerous villain than this schmuck. It makes him sit up straighter, made more confidant by the thought of Nancy Wheeler kicking his ass. Who would’ve thought?

“It will take more children,” the man continues. “I want to save them. I want to save your friend, but I can’t do that. Not without your help.”

Abruptly, Eddie is furious that this man would come in here and try to put this all on him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, voice quiet. When the man lifts an eyebrow, he continues, voice growing louder with ever word. “You had a funeral for fucking Will Byers, let Steve Harrington rot in a different world, probably unleashed that fucking thing on Hawkins in the first place, and now you’re asking for my help?”

The man’s face is made of stone. He doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s comments, just sits there placidly waiting for him to bend. To break. He’s clearly never met a Munson. They don’t fucking bend for anyone. Eddie spits in the man’s face.

He doesn’t react beyond a sedate smile as he gets up and leaves the room without another word, leaving Eddie alone with his spinning thoughts and dry throat.

Part 30

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic

[withahappyrefrain]

for those smutty prompts you reblogged ☺️ 29, which also goes pretty well with 7 too 💁🏼‍♀️

They do and they fit Birdie and Roo very well!

Warnings: Bradley's hands, reader has a nickname (no appearance described), smut, mentions of insecurities, did I mention Bradley's hands?

You should've noticed it earlier. Any other time when you weren't at your job, when you didn't have to be a professional.

But when Bradley went to give one of your students a high five, the stark juxtaposition of his hand compared to an eight year old's was astounding.

They were huge.

You wanted to entwine your hand with his, to feel his calloused fingertips. You wanted to feel them all over your body, particularly your throat.

But you were at your job. He was here to talk about his job for Career Day, filling in for a last minute cancellation.

So instead, you cleared your throat, "Let's give a big thank you to Mr. Bradshaw for coming in!"

Your professionalism nearly faltered when his hand laid itself on your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze.

"I'll see you later?" Bradley whispered, brown eyes full of hope.

One could see your quiet nod as a way to not draw attention to the interaction.

But you knew the truth. It was to keep yourself from saying something highly inappropriate in front of twenty third graders.

After your illy-timed revelation, it felt like the universe was doing everything within it's power to draw attention to Bradley's hands.

When you came home, you found Bradley in your kitchen, long fingers splayed out across one of your cabinets as his other hand worked to tighten a screw. His brows were knitted together in concentration, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out between his teeth as he focused.

His sweet brown eyes lit up when he saw you at the doorway of the kitchen.

"You'd think for how much your landlord charges, they'd have the decency to make sure all the screws are on tight."

It was such a sweet gesture. You hadn't mentioned it at all, meaning he must have noticed it himself. He took the time to grab his toolbox, bring it over here, and begin fixing it himself.

And all you could do was stare at his hands.

"Birdie? You okay?" His question broke you out of your trance.

"Oh yeah! Thanks Roo," you quickly kissed his warm cheek before excusing yourself to change.

This was bad. It was too early in the relationship to say something. You two had only slept together a handful of times. You still fucked in missionary there was no way you could ask him to choke you.

And what if he wasn't into that? What if he thought it was weird? Wouldn't be the first guy. But the difference now was that you really liked Bradley. You could see a future with him and he felt the same way.

The last thing you needed was to make him run for the hills.

So when you went into the kitchen after changing, you focused on reheating leftovers. Not the way Bradley was playing with Ladybug in the living room, those God damn hands scratching the dog's belly much to her delight.

This plan was going pretty well, until you felt large palms skimming across your bare thighs, a broad chest pressed against your back.

"Are those new?" Bradley asked, referring to the soft lounge shorts you had on.

"Uh yeah. They were on sale so I decided to treat myself," you quietly explained. God, his hands covered so much of your flesh. The way they gently kneaded the soft muscle of your thighs was heavenly combined with the hairs of his mustache brushing against your neck.

"D-do you like them?" Your voice was shaky, though it was an honest question. Okay, maybe you were trying to distract yourself again because thinking of the least attractive thing wasn't taking your mind off the way his fingers had slipped underneath the hem of your shorts.

Usually thinking of the way Stephen King wrote female characters always did trick. At least it did until Bradley Bradshaw came along.

"Love 'em. Love when you show off your thighs," he rasps in your ear.

"Really?" It was never a body part you noticed. In fact, you tried not to think about your thighs and the stretch marks that danced along the skin there or how much space they took up when you sat down.

Bradley nods before placing a soft kiss on your cheek, "Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I love everything about you Birdie."

His declaration makes your heart flutter.

"Guess I've always been a thigh guy? But yeah, your's are pretty damn amazing." You don't have to turn around, the small chuckle he lets out at the end indicates he's flustered.

When you turn around, you're met with rosy cheeks and bashful eyes. Bradley ducks his head into the crook of your neck, placing small kisses along your jawline.

His admission makes you feel at ease, your worries melting away. Your hands find his, several of your fingers wrapping around only one of his.

"I...I like your hands. A lot," you admit.

Bradley's mouth stills, "Really?"

You giggle, "Yeah. Like how big they are. Like how they feel when I hold them."

His mouth moves upward, now against the shell of your ear, "Saw you looking at them earlier. Is that all you were thinking about? Holding them?"

You could say yes and Bradley will drop it. He's had his suspicions about you, that there was more than you lead on when it came to the bedroom. Little things here and there have led him to believe it, as well as that you needed someone to open that door for you.

"I...." You took a deep breath, "I like how your fingers feel inside of me. And....I want to know how they'd feel around my throat."

The groan Bradley let out was gutteral, causing your thighs to clench.

"Jesus fucking Christ Birdie." For a brief moment, anxiety raced through your mind. You had messed up, had gone too far.

But then Bradley's mouth crashed against yours, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he picked you up. While the sudden show of strength made your head spin, it was feeling his erection that made you wonder why you worried in the first place.

Once you were placed on the counter, Bradley's hands trailed up your body, squeezing and kneading your soft flesh. His fingers reminded you that you had opted to go braless when you changed, the deft digits paying particularly close attention to your breasts.

All you could do was hold on, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Before you could even mark up that pretty neck of his, Bradley's hand found yours. His fingers spanned the entirety of your throat.

The grip he had on your neck forced you to look up, allowing Bradley's lips to crash against yours. It was dizzying, how small he made you feel.

Then his hand pressed against your throat and you were a goner. Broken moans filled your kitchen, your hips rutting against Bradley's in a feeble attempt to get more of him.

His other hand slipped past the waistband of your shorts, your body arching into his when his fingers skimmed the thin fabric of your panties.

You loved his touch. You were pretty sure you loved him too but that was a future you problem.

And all too soon, it was gone- his hand around your throat, the other rubbing your clothed core.

If it weren't for the cloud of anxiety beginning to form in your brain, you may have been able to say something witty, like taking it back to the bedroom. But that would require your brain to not jump to the worst conclusion, such as Bradley realizing how weird it was to be obsessed with hands.

Before you could say anything, Bradley dropped to his knees, now at eye level with your lap.

His long fingers trailed up your legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They finally stopped at the waistband of your shorts.

Shit.

Yes, you knew Bradley was coming over. God, you even had the chance to change into something more appealing than the plain underwear that could only be described as 'granny panties'. And yet, it completely slipped your mind that perhaps you and Bradley would be doing something more intimate this evening.

Alright, that was a lie. You had been hoping that would be the case, but expecting it would be rude.

So you went to apologize, like you always did. Apologize for not being sexy enough, thoughtful enough, not considerate enough-

Bradley's mouth silenced you as soon as it latched onto one of your bare thighs. Your fingers found his sun kissed hair, clinging onto the roots to stay somewhat stable, which was extremely difficult considering the attention Bradley was giving to your thighs.

You thought he would give them a kiss or two, maybe a bite and then move on.

Instead, Bradley had developed an unpredictable pattern when it came to your thighs. A bite here, sometimes followed by his tongue lapping over the mark, other times his lips pressing open mouthed kisses over your skin.

It was nice. Borderline unusual, considering those you dated in the past hardly spent anytime on one specific body part. Was he doing this because of your unappealing underwear?

No. Bradley said he liked-no-loved your thighs. And Bradley Bradshaw actually meant what he said.

The seed of doubt that had tried to grow in your mind withered away with each kiss, with each love bite and mark he placed on your thighs. With every action done by his stupidly talented mouth, worries about what you were wearing faded away.

Instead, you could just enjoy the insanely attractive man who was in between your legs.

God, he was so fucking hot. In such a short time, he had mastered your body, knowing the perfect amount of pressure when he sunk his teeth into your skin. His fingers gripped your soft flesh, hard enough to leave hand-shaped bruises but soft enough to still be pleasurable.

Tension melted off your body. Your head lolled back, mind focused on how enjoyable it was-

Oh.

This is what it was supposed to be like all along, wasn't it?

"Birdie? You okay baby?" When you opened your eyes, Bradley was at eye level with you.

You could only let out a confused huh.

"You stopped making those cute noises." He thought those were cute? You had been trying to hold back, not wanting to be too loud.

Maybe you should be louder.

"Yeah, sorry, I was just enjoying myself," you said sheepishly.

Bradley shook his head, "Nothing you have to apologize for."

When you looked up, he was giving you that earnest smile that made your heart flutter.

It's that exact smile that gives you the courage to learn forward and kiss him, trying to pour as much passion as one can with one simple action.

Your body arches into his, fingers weaving through those soft curls.

One of Bradley's hands snaked down your body, going past the waistband of your panties. A jolt of electricity went up your spine upon feeling his fingers brush against your soaked core.

When his fingers traced over your entrance, you didn't hold back.

Which was great for Bradley, as the desperate moan you let out made his cock twitch.

Of course his fingers were quick and talented, considering his job. You just never considered how it would translate to the bedroom (or kitchen in this case). The first time he thrusted his fingers inside of you, you thought it was a fluke. It had been ages since someone had touched you, which explained why you came so quickly.

But now? You knew better.

Your small kitchen was quickly filled with the sounds of your moans and heavy breathing. Each time his fingers stroked that one spot, you saw stars behinds your eyelids.

How did he find it so quickly?

When his thumb reached up to draw circles on your clit, all you could say was his name over and over again.

Your head felt like cotton, but in a good way. Maybe he could feel the heat radiating off of your body, but for once you didn't care. A particularly hard yank of his locks earned you a low, guttural growl from Bradley, making your walls clench around his fingers.

His free hand quickly found the sides of your neck, squeezing just enough to make a broken wail fall from your lips.

You were fucking gorgeous like this, ears teary from pleasure, lips parted. Bradley had a strong feeling there was more than what you had initially shown him. But that strong wall of reservation had broken down over time. Seeing you like this was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there.

"Br-Bradley," you barely got out, as he changed the angle of his hand, his fingers now able to thrust deeper inside you. Fuck, were you hearing yourself? Did he make you that wet?

It was absolutely certain.

"Yeah?" His voice was smooth like honeyed wine, "You gonna come for Mrs. Bradshaw?"

Fuck.

All at once it hit you like a tidal wave. Your hips jerked erratically, desperate to get as much of his fingers as possible, trying to ride out the wave as much as possible.

Thank god he didn't stop. You were addicted to the pure bliss that was running through your veins. No worries, seeds of doubt miles away. All you could focus on was the gorgeous man in front of you who was making you see stars.

You could process what he said later.

For now, you just rode it out.

"So fucking pretty like this," He rasped in your ear, fingers continuing their ministrations, "Y'know that?" All you could do was weakly nod, sensitivity beginning to overtake your body as you were pulled back to that pleasurable edge.

"Yeah, you're my pretty girl. All mine." The declaration made your head spin.

"A-All yours-Bradley!"

This time when you came, your hands clutched the soft fabric of his shirt, clinging onto him for dear life. Second orgasms were really a thing? You always thought that your inability to experience it in the past indicated that something was wrong with you.

You were beginning to learn the problem wasn't always you.

When he pulled out, his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in for a hug. Bradley quietly rocked you back and forth, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

"You good Birdie girl?" He asked, the smile evident in his voice.

You nodded, a dozy grin appearing on your face, "Yeah I just-wow. Never came twice before. Thought it was a myth or something."

"I think you've just been with shit people," Bradley stated, feeling comfortable enough to finally address it.

"I think you're right," your arms around his waist and your head settled against his chest.

"I-sorry about what I said earlier," Bradley muttered.

Oh yeah. That was something to talk about.

"The Mrs. Bradshaw thing?" you asked.

Heat rushed to Bradley's cheeks as he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, "Yeah....I'm sorry if that weirded you out. You were just really pretty-I mean you're always pretty-"

"It's not the first time you've called me that." You felt calm talking about it. Part of that was seeing Bradley visibly nervous.

You did what you would have wanted someone to do. You take his hands into yours, giving them a gentle squeeze as you looked up at him with a soft smile.

"I mean it. I don't mind at all. It was actually....sweet but also kinda hot," you admitted, feeling heat rise to your face.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, "Oh really?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Oh God are you going to use this against me?"

"Absolutely I am." Before you could even protest, Bradley had already picked you up.

"C'mon Mrs. Bradshaw, I'm far from done with you."

#ask #my writing #bradley and Birdie #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster top gun #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x y/n #bradley x reader #top gun maverick

[kika-writes]

play with me boy - l.n - part1

Warnings: crime mentions, assassinations, arranged marriage, forced marriage, mentions of sex, sexual innuendos, sexual harassment, mentions of cheating, fat-shaming.

Pairing: mafia!Lando!Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N is in an arranged marriage, but falls for someone else…

A/N - Ollie Norris is not a pervert or a bad person, I just used his name as I know he’s Lando’s brother. Also changing the old Big Fic to this x

Other parts

Being part of a crime family meant that there were hundreds and thousands of rules you had to live by, including, when you came ‘of age’ (19), you’d be married to someone of your parent’s choice, whether you liked it or not. 

“But mum-,” you started, but she wasn’t having it. “Me, your grandmother and loads before us all went through the same thing,” she scowled as you groaned. “He’s 29, that’s ten years!” you whined as she shook her head. “Enough! Me and your father had 12 years!” she shut you down instantly. “You will meet his parents and his brother today, at 4pm, alright?” your mother said firmly, ending the conversation and leaving without your reply. 

So it was settled. You and your father were to go to the Norris household and meet Oliver Norris, your future husband. This marriage was a necessity, some formality simply there for you and the boy, but you knew how much your parents needed the money and resources. You chose a simple black dress, some light make up and silver jewellery, finishing the look off with black satin heels and a matching bag. “Mr Y/L/N,” the groom’s father nodded as he let you in. “Come this way, my son is with his brother in the living room,”. You gulped, you didn’t want to meet Oliver Norris. He didn’t have a very…respectable reputation, so you’d heard, including comments from the Piastri and Sainz households. 

He was known for sleeping around - pity, wasting yourself, such a beautiful young girl, on him. There he was, sitting on the sofa, bantering with his brother. He was tall, 5’11 or 6’0, with deep set brown eyes and messy brown hair. He was not very good looking. However, your attention was immediately drawn to the boy beside him. He was dressed in a white shirt, the top three buttons open at the top, a pair of black dress trousers stretched along his legs. 

His eyes were more green with golden specks, his hair curly and slightly unkempt, but in a nice way. Now he was much better-looking. His eyes locked on yours, a small smile jumping to his lips. One of his curls hung vaguely on his forehead, adding to his boyish charm as he raised an eyebrow at you. Oliver seemed to notice, batting his brother’s attempt to make you laugh away and gesturing you to sit down. “Ain’t you a pretty one?” he whispered into your ear, his accent slightly cockney, maybe from all the years he’d spent at London. The file in your parent’s collection told you of his ventures.

He sounded disgusting, like a pervert or something. You smiled, trying to hide the disgust on your face as you sat down, backing your face away from his. “Thanks,” you mumbled. “Oh, don’t be shy, love,” he cackled, “I can make you feel more at home,”. He smirked down at you, his hand creeping underneath your dress. Immediately you stood up, pulling your dress down. “No thank you,” you said hurriedly, eyes flickering to his brother. “Mate leave it,” the younger one frowned, pushing his brother away. “She’s my wife, she gotta learn to behave her pretty little self,” Oliver rolled his eyes.

You grimaced, what a disgusting excuse for a human being. “Mate, that’s freaky,” his brother snorted, pushing Oliver lightly and extending his hand. “I’m L-,” he started, before a hard wooden cane came down sharply on his wrist. He held back the urge to cry out, turning to his father. “Eyes on your own prize, Lando,” his father said coldly. Lando. Lando. The name rolled off your tongue wonderfully. “Melissa’s uglier than  a-,” he snorted, but the cane came down again. “Sit down,” his father bellowed at him as he groaned, sitting down. 

“Apologies, Mr Y/L/N,” he shook his head, batting away at his youngest son. You turned to him a small smile on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. The conversation went relatively okay, both of your fathers discussing marital arrangements and deals. You were sat between the two brother’s, Ollie’s hand squeezing your thigh rather painfully as his attempts to lift your dress were brushed away. Soon. He got bored, turning away and back to his brother as you sat silently. How old was this other boy? He was rather charming, actually. 

“So,” you said, finally, to the boys. “Didn’t know you had a brother,”. Oliver raised an eyebrow. “He don’t matter, though, do he love?” he laughed. Just the way he spoke was…disgusting. “Mate, I’m already lumbered with that other bitch,” Lando shook his head, evidently not happy with this Melissa girl. “Good luck letting her sit on your face,” Oliver snorted, “this one won’t weigh a thing,” he grabbed your waist suddenly, making you shriek. 

Both of your father’s stopped talking, looking up as Lando blinked twice. “Y/N, what is the meaning of this?” your father demanded, evidently embarrassed. “He’s tryna lift my dress,” you protested, but he wasn’t having it. “He is going to be your boyfriend, he has every right to take you upstairs right now and-,” Lando cut him off with a frown. “Mr Y/L/N, he can’t just-,” he started. “Enough! The pair of you! Lando go to your room,” Adam Norris commanded, sending the younger boy upstairs, “Mr Y/L/N. This wedding will go on, regardless of either parties’ opinion,”. Fuck. 

Thankfully, one of the maids at Oliver’s house had noticed your interest in the younger Norris, and had managed to slip you his phone number. Now, all you had to do was message him and hide it from your parents. So, conveniently, when they both went out for a meeting with the other households, you decided to try it. 

unknown number 

y/n: hi, is this lando? 

unknown; yeah, hi who is this?

You paused. What if he told his parents? Or even Ollie? There was a chance he might not even have any interest in you, and was just teasing. Fuck it. In the off chance he wasn’t, you’d rather be killed by your own parents then marry his brother. 

y/n: um it’s y/n

unknown has added you as a contact

lando: hey y/n x 

y/n: hi lando 

lando: how r thing w Ollie?

y/n: honest answer?

lando: always yh, u alr?

y/n: no. I hate it so so much. 

lando: ur parents home? 

y/n: no, why?

He didn’t answer the message, leaving you on opened as you frowned. Maybe he’d gone to tell his parents. Immediately, thousands of doubts began to settle in your mind, sending you into a panic. Deciding to distract yourself, you opted to change out your night clothes. You undid the curler in your hair, your Y/H/C hair bouncing at your waist. Walking over to your cupboard, you decided to choose an outfit, something simple, a white dress with matching shoes and a bow. Sighing, you lifted your arms up, taking the silken top off, adjusting your black lace bra. Just as you did, knock came at your window, making you panic and hurriedly squeeze the dress on. 

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando x reader #f1 #mafia lando

[ausetkmt]

Three young Black girls were strangled and left in a pond last summer in east Texas, and no arrests have been made in a case that advocates and experts believe has been severely mishandled by local authorities.

Nine-year old Zi’Ariel Robinson-Oliver, 8-year-old A’Miyah Hughes, and 5-year-old Te’Mari Robinson-Oliver, known as the Oliver 3, were reported missing on July 28, 2022, in Atlanta, Texas. The girls’ cousin, Paris Propps, who was watching the three sisters and their siblings while their mother was at work, reported the girls missing around 9 p.m. Hours later, on July 29, all three bodies were found in a nearby pond.

Initially, authorities said it was a drowning. But in March, nearly eight months after the girls were last seen alive, the Cass County District Attorney’s Office said in a statement that a homicide investigation is underway.

“Autopsy reports concluded the manner of death for all three girls was homicide, indicating evidence of strangulation. The girls also suffered lacerations to their faces,” the press release obtained by Yahoo News from the Cass County District Attorney’s Office said.

Now advocates are stepping in to demand answers. On April 3, Minister Quanell X, the leader of the New Black Panther Nation, traveled four hours from Houston to hold a press conference in Cass County and demanded that the FBI and Department of Justice step in to investigate. The FBI has not responded to a request for comment from Yahoo News.

Quanell X stood beside the mother of the Oliver sisters during the press conference. “She was told that they drowned, but she always had a suspicious feeling that the girls did not drown. Well, her suspicions were confirmed by the autopsies,” Quanell told Yahoo News.

The Cass County District Attorney’s Office is currently working with the Texas Rangers and the sheriff’s office to investigate the murders. “Multiple witness statements have been obtained, DNA testing is ongoing, and the investigation will continue,” according to a statement obtained by Yahoo News from the district attorney’s office. Yahoo News contacted the office for additional information but a spokesperson declined to provide more details.

According to U.S. Census data from 2022, Cass County has a population of 28,539 people, and advocates say the town does not have enough resources to investigate three homicides.

“They were presumed drowned because of a sham investigation, a lazy investigation by investigators who obviously didn't have the resources, the training that was necessary to properly address an investigative crime scene,” Quanell said.

Investigators are still searching for suspects, but experts say the months-long time lapse could have been avoided.

“The usual time frame [for autopsies] depends, I would say within two weeks,” David Thomas, professor of forensic studies at Florida Gulf Coast University, told Yahoo News.

But for small towns, “they send those autopsies off to a whole different county, hours away from that county to do the autopsy,” Quanell said.

However, the autopsy reports are just one piece of the puzzle. Thomas says more could have been done at the time investigators found the girls in the pond.

“They sat and they made an assumption that they had drowned, which would be unusual for three people to drown at the same place, at roughly the same time — [it] doesn’t make any sense,” Thomas told Yahoo News. “If it was Gabby Petito, the world would have come to a stop.”

Revolt Black News weekly recently reported that authorities were aware that a crime had occurred soon after the incident, but just recently released the information to the public last month. “However, they didn’t say why they delayed sharing the info,” the article stated.

“At the end of the day, any seasoned investigators when they retrieved the bodies from the [pond] would have been able to see that this was more than some accidental drowning by the bruising on the faces and the necks of the girls,” Quanell said.

Quanell believes the investigation is not a priority because the young girls are all Black. “I think Cass County is doing what Cass County historically does when it comes to investigating injustice and murder involving Black people as victims. They’re not taking this case seriously in my eyes, because it’s not three young white children,” he said.

“National statistics tell us that over 60,000 Black women are missing, and Black women are twice as likely than they appear to be victims of homicide,” Brittany Lewis, co-founder of Research in Action, told Yahoo News in March.

Now experts say the investigation will be much harder because of the lengthy time lapse. “That eight month time gap is devastating,” David Carter, professor of criminal justice at Michigan State University and a former Kansas City, Mo., police officer, told Yahoo News.

“The longer time between when the bodies are found and the investigation begins, the harder it is. It’s harder to find suspects, certainly harder to find witnesses, and harder to find evidence,” Carter said.

Carter says that as a former member of the law enforcement, there’s no excuse for the delay in the investigation. “I’m really at a loss of why a criminal investigation wasn’t started immediately,” Carter said.

As authorities continue to investigate, advocates emphasize that whoever committed these crimes is still at large.

“They could be anywhere,” Thomas said. “But I would say the likelihood that they knew that pond was there would probably give you an indication that it might be somebody local or somebody that's very familiar with the area.”

“This sounds like a very, very targeted personal crime,” Carter added.

There have been no arrests in the nearly year-old case, but more people are pushing for justice. Recently, civil rights attorney Ben Crump and celebrities like Viola Davis and Niecy Nash shared a montage video on social media of the Oliver 3. The video was created by Black Girl Gone, a true crime podcast that sheds light on Black girls and women who are missing.

“A child killer. A serial killer is on the loose. One who was not afraid to murder three children. And if you kill three you will kill more. Especially when you believe you will get away with it like this perpetrator has,” Quanell said.

On April 26, Quanell and the New Black Panther Nation plan to host a town hall in Cass County, as they continue to seek justice for the Oliver sisters.

#texas #Black LIves Matter #3 Black girls were found dead last year in a Texas pond. Police have made no arrests