#even fucking French makes more sense than this

[dinitride-art]

Polls.

Not Poles.

Would you believe that I have been learning this language for nearly nineteen years? That it’s what my brain is built on? That I read and write all the time and still can’t spell basic words?

The spelling doesn’t even make any sense. Like there’s two ‘L’s and suddenly that makes it so the ‘o’ sound changes? Like that doesn’t happen with dolls. And I know it’s because those two words were probably taken from two different languages but still, what the fuck? Pole is like that because the ‘e’ on the end affects the vowel, and that’s a rule that makes sense. Sometimes. Most of the time kinda. And like okay, I know that pole is about like the North Pole and stuff that’s like related to the specific use of that term. Science shit. And polls has a different meaning because it’s about polls. But still in my head polls should be pronounced like ‘pauls’. But like slightly different. For whatever reason that may be.

At this point I should just try to learn pieces of like twenty other languages just to try and understand the roots of English to spell things correctly.

#everyday I go on tumblr and embarrass myself #I’ve never been able to spell things right and I’d like to stop trying #even fucking French makes more sense than this #like sure you don’t say half the word #but the stuff in the word itself that you say and don’t say generally follows the same rules #like don’t pronounce h’s #and j’s have a jhhhhhh sound instead a juh #and I was only in French classes for three years and never had an actual teacher #and it still makes more sense than English #a couple years ago I was learning Japanese halfheartedly on duolingo #and holy shit the characters actually had rules #and they all followed the same thing and pattern #and it was beautiful #english will just absorb random phrases from other languages and call it a day #adios has just always been in my head and that is straight up Spanish #and ce la vi (no idea how to spell it it’s French. can only kinda pronounce French) #ce l’vie #cę la vie #yeah no idea #it’s got rules that make sense but fuck if I know them #English is way easier to speak than to write #I should have a tag that’s me complaining so people can block it #uhh #personal #I think that works

[anyroads]

OK you know what, if we're gonna talk about Bake Off then fuck it, let's do this.

It used to be this wholesome, lovely show! We used to watch it for the bakers! And the learning! And the light banter and occasional bit of coy innuendo! What happened?

Channel 4 happened. When they bought the show they made a number of changes, most of them Not Good™️. Not just in the sense of them resulting in a lot of 😬 and 🫠 moments, but in the sense of how they changed the show's purpose, atmosphere, and brand.

Look, I know most people are just like, "whatever, it's just a baking show," and yeah, sure. But it's one of the UK's most successful TV exports, and where it once shifted the tone of reality competition to being wholesome and supportive of contestants, it's since moved towards creating tension at the contestants' cost. So aside from the fact that most people watching it signed up to watch a nice show, it has also shifted the goalposts of what that even means. And that, lovelies and gentlefolk, is some bullshit.

I decided to break my rant analysis into four main parts: theme weeks, the hosts, the judges, and the bakers. Let's get to it!

Theme Weeks:

If you watch Bake Off, you know the show's always had a specific theme for each week. The staples that come up in most seasons are:

cake

biscuit

bread

pudding/dessert

pastry

patisserie

Less common but consistent are things like caramel and chocolate week.

Then there are the fun episodes! When GBBO was on the BBC, this started out with things tea week, tarts, pies, tray bakes, basically little tangents still focused on emphasizing specific baking skills. In Series 6 (still on the BBC) they had their first nation-focused theme week with French week -- fairly innocuous given that a lot of patisserie is French, France and England share much more culture than either cares to admit [Norman Flag dot gif], and it was a nice change from watching Paul make the bakers do recipes that involved boiling things while talking about how wonderful boiled doughs are (are they, Paul? Are they?).

The show kept mixing it up with innocuous themes like advanced dough and alternative ingredients weeks, European cakes, Victorian week, batter week, and botanical week. And while it was frustrating to watch Paul Hollywood mispronounce things like the Hungarian Dobos Torta and lecture bakers on babka when he clearly knew nothing about it (or about Jewish baking in general, go off Past Me), the show's general attitude was that the judges had their own opinions, which were separate from the immutable facts around the chemistry of baking (more on this later) and shouldn't affect how bakers are judged.

After the show moved to Channel 4, the number of themed weeks increased and more of them focused on specific countries. In 6 seasons on the BBC, there were only two country-focused theme weeks, and in 5 seasons on Channel 4 there have been five. And while they've also had themes like vegan baking, roaring 20s, the 1980s, spice week, etc. the show has really started to go hard on exoticizing other cultures in outright disrespectful and racist ways. There's been Italian and Danish week, German, Japanese (it wasn't, it was East Asian week), and now Mexican week (which doesn't touch on interspersed Jewish bakes that didn't get a theme week, like versions of bagels and babka set as technical challenges that were borderline hate crimes and mansplained by a guy who has no idea how to make either and once wrote in a cookbook that challah was traditionally eaten during Passover). Each time the hosts played up the theme with racist bits and jokes that can be used as evidence in court if your case is "why should shows with scripted content have a professional writing staff."

Which touches on other issues the show has now...

The Hosts:

When GBBO was on the BBC, the show was hosted by ✨Mel Giedroyc✨ and ✨Sue Perkins✨. They encouraged the bakers! They'd hold stuff for them sometimes! They were interested in them! If a baker had a breakdown, they would start singing copyrighted material to render the footage unusable! When the show moved to Channel 4, they left, though I'm not unconvinced that Channel 4 offered them impossible to accept contracts to force them out so they could rebrand the show. They replaced them with Sandy Toksvig and Noel Fielding. Sandy was a lovely host in the vein of Mel and Sue, and she and Noel had a relatively sweet rapport, but she left a few seasons ago and was replaced by Matt Lucas.

Noel Fielding is mostly known for his quirky brand of comedy, a sort of British Zooey Deschanel who's goth from the neck up, an upperclass British gay divorcee from the neck down, and basically an early 60s Beatle re: trousers. Matt Lucas has almost definitely never watched a single episode of GBBO and his most redeeming quality is his thinly veiled contempt for Paul Hollywood.

The two treat the baking tent as their personal playground. Far from the supportive attitude of Mel and Sue, they tend to get in the bakers' way during the most stressful moments, especially when they try to do hilarious "comedy" bits (I can't not put that in quotes) like Noel's talking wooden spoon thing, or Matt talking over Noel to do time calls. During theme weeks like Japanese and Mexican week, they do culture-specific bits that are both racist ("just Juan joke" and "is Mexico a real place?") and unsurprising, given that both Matt and Noel did blackface on their respective sketch shows and absolutely could and should have known better because it was already the current fucking century.

All this to say, there's now a separation between the bakers and the hosts, as if they're on different shows. The hosts are doing their own thing and the bakers are doing GBBO. The show has gotten meaner to the bakers, and the hosts aren't there to support them anymore, they're just there to be comic relief. Because when you refocus your show on stressing the bakers the fuck out, you need a forced laugh I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The Judges:

First of all, a sincere congratulations to Paul Hollywood who managed to squeeze I jUsT cAmE bAcK fRoM mExIcO aNd YeT sTiLL pRoNoUnCe PiCo De GaLLo As 'PiKa De KaLLa' and I aM aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS wHiCh aRe MaDe WiTh DiGeStiVe BiScUiTs AcCoRdiNg tO mE, aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS, just two in a giant pile of astoundingly wrong hot takes, into a short enough time span that they all aired within Liz Truss's term as Prime Minister. A true man of accomplishments.

In the interest of fairness, I need to preface this with a disclaimer that, due to the fact that I've been watching Bake Off for most of its run, I'm biased. Specifically, I can't stand Paul Hollywood's smarmy, classist, egomaniac ass because he's proven time and again he's more interested in looking smart than actually knowing what he's talking about. Since the show moved to Channel 4, they've changed the occasional handshake Paul would give bakers to the HoLlYwOoD hAnDsHaKe™️. It's gone from being an emphasis of someone's skill to a goal, a reward, and one that emphasizes the judges' place above the bakers.

The judges used to function as teachers, imparting their skills and insights to the bakers. When the show was on the BBC, the voiceover leading to a judging would focus on the bakers' work being finished, saying how it will now be evaluated based on their skill and how well they met the brief. The voiceovers now, on Channel 4, focus on the judging (literally saying something along the lines of, "the bakers will now be judged by Prue and Paul"). There is a clear distinction Channel 4's producers have made, to mark that the show is now about whether or not the judges approve, not whether the brief was understood and executed well. On the BBC, it was irrelevant whether the judges liked a particular flavor, as long as the bake was well-made. Now, the bakers are expected to know the judges tastes and cater to them, which is frankly bullshit. A judge doesn't have to like a flavor to know whether or not it was executed well, ie. is it carrying a bake and was it meant to etc.

The judges have been turned into a brand. Cynically, Channel 4 knows that by building them up and focusing the show more on them, they can exploit their image more for profit. In the process, they've become much more biased and their own biases have come out as well. Most recently in the flaming dumpster fire that was Mexican Week, Paul Hollywood tried to intimidate a baker by telling them he had just gotten back from Mexico (which must have been a fruitful learning trip if he couldn't even learn how to pronounce pico de gallo correctly). Where do I even start with this? Here's an amateur baker from England (the show specifically casts middle and lower middle class bakers for the most part??) who likely can't afford trips to Mexico, who lives in a country with incredibly limited access to Mexican cuisine, who is expected not only to understand the cooking and baking traditions of a completely different culture but to do so well enough to play with it and do something creative with it. On top of which, one of the judges is now using his privilege of traveling halfway around the world as some kind of leverage, as if this were a bar that any amateur British baker could clear.

Prue, meanwhile, has openly asserted her biases against cultural flavors and textures, prioritizing her own personal preferences over them, as if they were in any way relevant to the skills and knowledge necessary to execute the tasks she sets to the bakers. She has also been consistently elitist, criticizing bakers for choices they made that were clearly informed by their experiences within income brackets that are too low and foreign for Prue to comprehend. She once had a go at a baker on a Christmas special because his Christmas dinner themed bake didn't have a turkey, even though it was clear from the stories he shared of his own Christmases that his family likely couldn't afford one. "It's not really Christmas dinner without a turkey," Prue said into the camera angrily while sitting on a chair made of live orphans and telling the ghost of Christmas Future to come back when he had another museum gift shop necklace for her to round out her collection.

The show is no longer about which baker has the best skills. It's become about which mortal can appease the gods of Mount Olympus, ie. the judges.

The Bakers:

Remember when the show was about them? Channel 4 doesn't! Because this is a reality competition show, the bakers are chosen both based on their skills, as well as cast-ability. They're cast as characters, distinct from each other, from different areas, age groups, ethnicities. All of them are amateurs. All of them are middle or lower middle class. They've ranged from college students to supermarket cashiers to prison wardens to scientists.

Something I noticed when the show moved to Channel 4 is that the baker who goes home in the first week is always wildly behind the rest in skills. I have no proof of this other than my eyeballs and deductive reasoning skills, but I think that Channel 4 deliberately casts a ringer each season who they think will be an easy send-off in the first week, just to get the audience's feet wet.

Anyway, like I said, this show used to be about the bakers - about them building skills and learning, and having walked into the tent with a self-taught foundation and understanding of the processes and chemical reactions involved in baking. When the show was on the BBC, the end of each round had some (often brief) moments of tension - will they finish in time? Will they get their bakes on the plate before time is up? Did they forget to add sugar to their batter and only remember at the last minute? In the end, they usually managed to finish and we'd all breathe a sigh of relief and think, yeah! You go, Bakers Who I'm Rooting For!

Now, on Channel 4, the end of round drama has been stretched to be so much longer that they've composed extra music for it. The bakers often seem out of their depth, whether because the instructions for the technical challenge are too vague (bake a lemon meringue pie??? As if anyone in the UK under the age of 60 has had one in the last decade???), or because they were expected to bake something that required a more than a basic foundation they weren't told of. Often it seems like they just aren't given enough time, a tactic used by reality competition shows to manipulate contestants into giving the cameras more dramatic content. On top of all this, the hosts get in their way, instead of helping them plate their bakes. As has been pointed out before, when everyone fails the challenge, the real failure lies with whoever set it.

In conclusion:

The show no longer exists to teach the bakers - and the audience - skills or knowledge. It now manipulates contestants for dramatic effect and prioritizes showing conflict over wholesome content. Channel 4 sees the bakers as social media content they can churn out season after season, and don't care about them because in a few months there'll be a new batch to exploit. Meanwhile, the judges are also out of their depth, co-opting recipes from other cultures and butchering them horrendously, while the camera gives them nothing but status as they hold bakers to the expectation that they learn how to make things very much the wrong way. If you saw any of the tweets about Mexican or Japanese week, or read my post on how Paul Hollywood isn't allowed to go near babka ever again, you'll understand.

So what would fix all this? Scrap the current judges and the hosts altogether. Bring back Mel and Sue, and replace the judges with expert bakers who have a love of their craft and want to share it with others. The draw of GBBO used to be its warmth and comfort - if Channel 4 isn't going to start its own version of Master Chef For Bakers, then it needs to stop trying to find a balance of how it can insert that vibe into GBBO. It can't. That's not a thing. Stop trying.

#GBBO #paul hollywood #prue leith #the great british bake off

[kay-jaye]

bit on the side?

bit on the side?

crowley doesn’t know what the fuck that even means. ok, yes, he’s familiar with the deluge of terms humans have concocted to define the complexity of their relations to each other.

side piece. sneaky link. friends with benefits. fuck buddies. situationship.

crowley knows what it means. he does. but when nina speaks the phrase to him, crowley can’t seem to recognize a single language, alive or otherwise dead, in which the words she says make sense. he briefly wonders if this is his version of aziraphale’s french.

because she’s talking about aziraphale.

aziraphale, the angel. the angel who likes his tea without sugar, but his wine with company. the angel who claims to have a distaste for “bebop,” yet crowley has caught him mouthing the words to queen’s “good old-fashioned lover boy” more than once in the bentley. the angel (bastard) who enjoys subjecting crowley to his magic act antics that under no circumstances would crowley ever admit to finding amusing or, satan forbid, endearing. the angel who popped into paris during the reign of terror because he got peckish for crepes, and even the threat of guillotine in that damp bastille cell could not deter him from baked goods in the end. the angel who still insists on dragging crowley to see productions of shakespeare, despite both being present for the original opening nights of almost every play the man wrote. the angel who is what heaven is supposed to be incarnate—pure and kind and too good for his own good, really.

and crowley is a demon.

he doesn’t think any of the typical labels apply. they’re not human, after all; it couldn’t be that simple. crowley can’t pinpoint exactly when it started or when it changed. 6,000 years is a long history to comb through. it was more than the acquiescence of two immortal beings to the familiarity of each other in a world full of temporary creations. it was more than a bloody arrangement at this point. crowley doesn’t know how it can be more than whatever it means to inhabit the other’s body and walk right into fatal danger, but they are. he’s inclined to cut his losses and say he knew—because deep down, he did know—he’s been fucked since eden and the damn wall and the damn rain he can’t help but associate with revelation.

other people’s love lives, nina had said. love lives. she’s projecting, crowley knows that. whatever’s going on with her and…lydia? linda? they say love makes you blind, but crowley would argue you see plenty of things. every passing glance between sips of champagne; every smile at the crisp sarcasm rolling off a forked tongue; every brush of fingers over the exchange of a briefcase full of books, the shaky grip on a tartan thermos, the drunken grab for another glass of wine across the table. silly things. things that aren’t there. for all the times aziraphale has implored him to read more, crowley swallows the urge to say he already reads into things more than he should.

he’s imagined it before; what it would be like to have more. a fair share of people have made assumptions about them in the past, though he’s not sure whether aziraphale has picked up on it, but that’s not why crowley suddenly feels as though armageddon is upon them once again. never has someone alluded to anything as…intimate as “hooking up.” crowley can brush away the implication that they’re together, but something screeches to a burning halt the moment nina insinuates what crowley’s only ever allowed himself to think about when he’s laudanum-level drunk and lonely because he has a greater chance of not remembering in the morning.

he remembers though. that’s usually when the guilt kicks in, when he’s hungover because he forgot to miracle the alcohol out of his system before passing out, and the headache pulses with the constant reminder that aziraphale is pure, pure, PURE. nothing he imagines on those nights is pure.

what gave him away? and if nina can see it, can aziraphale?

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #i'm writing look at that #kayjaye writes

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your Soul's Signature Scent

✧ “Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.” - Patrick Süskind

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, I'm a rambler and I love going off track. One pile got a mini wattpad story. CHEERS!

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✴︎ Pile One ✴︎ (King of Pentacles, 3oP, Knight of Swords, 9oS, 1, Ascension, Worthy,)

Not to be weird but I’d sniff you like rich frat boy coke.

It's hard to describe scents so… walk with me.

You have had a long, stressful day and the world is pissing you off. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place so after work, you open Google Maps in hopes of temporary solace with cheap liquor and bar food. You find one of those dingy sports bars with shitty beer, sticky tables, and drunk grown men yelling at a tiny wall-mounted television.

Not exactly your cup of tea, but as the French say… C’est la vie!

You practically had to beat half of the bar off with a stick, just to find a seat. Drunk old guys + A Pretty Pile One = Sloppy, slurred marriage proposals(?) You couldn’t tell, but “I wanna bring you home to my mama” sounds close enough.

You pay them no mind. You have one goal. Get fucked up. Don’t throw up.

Okay, maybe two goals.

You finally find a stool and raise a finger to signal the bartender.  

“Hey, bartender! BAR-”

“I see you. Don’t call to me.” 

A nervous drop in your stomach almost tips you off your stool. You feel them before you see them. Every bottle clink they make reverberates to that pit in your stomach. You only hear the bartender’s movements among a crowd of bustling people: their shoes stick and unstick to the floor, their fake chuckles at guests’ jokes, every time their hand slides across the bar to collect bills.

Maybe it’s delusion but you’re convinced you hear the steady drum of their heartbeat. 

You finally get a good look at the bartender. In a sea of hostile people drowning themselves to forget their sorrows, you see the calmest, most fearless person in the room. Squared shoulders, back straight, head held high, and the smoothest walk you’ve ever seen; they almost glide.

You watch in complete admiration as they de-escalate a fight, sanitize bar taps, count money, and make a drink all in one go. You haven’t spoken more than two full words to this person but something about their presence makes you want to kneel.

The bartender finally makes their way to you and their eyes lock with yours. Your neck begins to sweat so you quickly dart your head away. A deep, velvety chuckle comes from the pits of their stomach, “Don’t show me you're nervous, I usually charge the Bambis more.”

“Bambis?”

“You’re shivering like a scared little deer, aren't you?”

You have no words so you focus on twisting your hands under the tables. 

They find you cute. With another chuckle they lean in closer to you, “I’ll tell you what, how about I make you a drink to calm you a little, yeah?”

“Uhm, I’ll take a-” Before you could even tell them what you want, their back is to you making a concoction.

Forty-five seconds later, a glass of honey bourbon with an orange slice and a vanilla bean stick slides in your direction. Along with a… cigar?

“I doubt you can handle this, but I want to see you sweat.”

Hands shaky, you press the glass to your lips as the bartender guides you, “Take it slow. Let it sit. Savor it.”

You came in here looking for cheap booze and a deep sense of impending regret, but here you are drinking $400 bourbon you can’t afford and hanging off of every syllable this person says to you.

After a slow sip and a burn behind the ears, you ask, “How do you do that?”

They raise their brow.

“Ya know… command like that.”

They whip a towel over their shoulder, “Once you realize how scared and hurt everyone actually is, worthiness feels less unattainable.”

BAHAHAHA THAT ENDING WAS SO CORNY (and kinda ominous??) BUT THIS IS GETTING LONG AND THIS AINT WATTPAD.

In summary, your soul has a very effortlessly commanding signature. Even if you aren’t aware, your energy dominates every space it enters. You might have people who seem to dislike you for no reason, this is why. BUT YES, a sweet bourbon with a hint of citrus and something smoked on the side is 100% your signature. Also… Petrichor. Your soul scent is the sweetened waft of smoked wood beneath grit and the smell of wet Earth after a storm. 

"Can You Taste The Spice On My Lips?"

✴︎ Pile Two ✴︎ (9oP, 10oP, King of Wands, Lust)

✴︎ BAEEEE, don’t fucking play with me. Your soul just told me to take my shoes off in your million-dollar mansion. You told me to stop acting like a fucking hooligan???

There is a richness to you down to your very core. I’m getting Pushya, the most auspicious nakshatra representing wealth, prosperity, and milk (divine nourishment). But there is also a spiciness here.

SPICED CHAI MILK TEA. That is the scent that jumps out to me. The hominess of full-bodied, sweet cinnamon. The spicy warmth of red chai. Maybe even a little nutty, Spanish almond if you’re feeling crazy.

There is also a gradual build-up here. All earth signs, but primarily Taurus. There is this steady, sensual accumulation of your energy. You cannot be rushed, you savor moments and allow yourself to rest in all the sensations you experience in the present. If you don’t do this, your soul is calling you to do this. Slow down. Chew slower, shower longer, and take time out of your morning to listen to the birds sing. 

The leisurely flow of the universe is inviting you to join its dance. You are safe. You are provided for. The universe is your sugar daddy. Your guides want you to know that what you want, wants you; you just need to slow down.

I sense that your energy is aphrodisiacal. Your sacral chakra is one of your dominant chakras (could be healthy or a leak but it is prominent) and when people enter your presence their chakra gets activated too. People get creative and fiery near you. If their sacral chakra is blocked, this may be repressed and they can hold resentment for the free-flowing energy you have which they feel they lack. 

Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. That word is used a lot in this community and you may be tired of hearing it but that's too damn bad! You’re very fucking abundant.

If this puzzles you because you look around and don't see whatever you picture as abundance, it's because it's sitting within you waiting for you to actualize it. You have the skills, the intellect, and everything else under the sun needed to grab your dreams by the balls. I cannot stress this enough.

Go outside, journal, continue your affirmations, and remove yourself from anything lying to you and saying you cannot do this. It is a fucking lie. You have everything it takes to do what the world says is impossible. Shut the world’s opinion out and turn inwardly for your answers, because you have them.  

Ambrosia. Liquid gold. It flows through you. You are the gift. The universe’s greatest gift to you is you. You have the ability to spin anything into gold. 

I have some doomscrollers, spirallers, and people-pleasers in this pile. You may struggle with excess anxiety, digestive issues, acid reflux, and ulcers. Outside influences have tricked you into believing you are a pebble when you’re actually a diamond. 

Baby, you have to cut them off. By “them” I mean all negative energies that cause your mind to get stuck in a loop of self-hate. That includes social media, bad habits, fake relationships. Your solitude will heal you. Your peace of mind will heal you. Once you shut up the naysayers, you’ll finally hear the music that has been drowned out in your body and soul.

I know this is a lot but it is worth the effort. Your potential is worth the effort. A healthy state of mind is worth the effort. You are worth the effort. 

Sidenote: The star and temperance came out while I was cleaning up. BABY YOU A STAR IN THE MF MAKING!

"The great merit of gold is precisely that it is scarce”

✴︎ Pile Three ✴︎ (The World, 6oW, 2oW)

🎵Nowadays, I be duckin' them cameras

And they hype that I'm up on them banners

Callin' my phone, but they know I don't answer (why?)

In the hood, I'm like Princess Diana (grrah) 🎵

✴︎ THE PEOPLE 'S PRINCESS (or prince… orrrr the #1 baddest barnacle in the seven seas, whatever fits).

3, “The creative child” and 6, “The Caretaker” came out. 3 is the number of self-expression and creativity. 6 is the most harmonious number centered around nurturing your community. In the world, you’re the center of attention. In the 6 of Wands, you’re the one decked out in Dolce and Gabanna, playing Robin Hood and giving to the people. In the 2 of wands, you quite literally have the world in your palm.

Your soul’s footprint is destined to be seen and recognized. Baby, you are meant to be loved by the world at large. 

Maybe you have aspirations of becoming an artist, actress, or influencer. If you have dreams of being in the public eye, I am telling you your desires are not coincidental. You are meant for these dreams so do not be afraid to actualize them. The stars are expecting you, your home is in the spotlight.

Everyone incarnates on Earth with a role and purpose, you are meant to have a large platform because what you have to say matters and will elevate our collective consciousness. You have the gift of being able to garner great attention. People like to see you, talk to you, see what you’re wearing, know about your life, and everything else in between. People are like moths to a flame with you, you’re an entertainer to your very core.

You have a youthful, creative, and colorful soul. 

I am getting strong floral scents mixed with a crisp, clean linen smell. Gardenia, Ylnag Ylnag, Cherry Blossom, and Honey Suckle. I just know the bees be tearing your nectary ass up.

You know how Ariana Grande’s perfume line is always sold out? It’s kind of like that. “Oh, Pile Three is wearing this perfume? PUT IT IN THE CART. NEOW.”

Strong Venusian energy. Libra, Taurus, Pisces, 2nd house (especially for my singers), 7th house, Bharani, Purva Phalguni and Purvashada.

People find you very attractive. Yes, physically so, but the true embodiment of beauty stems from the soul. And you are utterly gorgeous. I am getting snow white; the animals flock to her, the sky clears for her, the seas part for her, and the forest protects her.

I am not trying to be redundant but this Earth does not play about you😭. That doesn’t mean you haven’t experienced hardship but trust, you will get the love you crave, tenfold. 

I get the sense that love has felt very conditional in your life and once the metaphorical “love pie” was cut and served, you were served last and there was never enough for you.

I am going to hold your hand as I say this,

Feel this pain. Process this pain fully. Cry all your tears, scream your sorrows out in the open, and let the winds carry it away. Let these feelings of being unloved leave your body because there is no space for them anymore. Eternal love is flowing in to fill those empty cavities. You are so loved. I am so sorry the environment around you has blocked this energy but please know that justice will be served and the love you are karmically owed is growing within you and you will be seen in this lifetime.

COME BACK TO THIS WHEN YOU’RE FAMOUS AND DON’T FORGET ME.

You better not go Hollywood on me 🫵

The Cosmos' Countess

✴︎ Pile Four ✴︎ (The Hanged Man, Knight of Wands, 5 of Swords)

✴︎ Random, but have you heard stories of those cool warrior monks? Who devotes themselves to their practice but when it’s time for battle they whoop ass?? That’s so you, boo.

You’re all peace, love, and light but you don’t fucking play about protecting your peace of mind. I sense that you live an alternative lifestyle. With the hanged man, you see life differently from the average person, and don’t waste your time with the world’s bullshit. 

You’re not on Twitter arguing about Drake’s tummy tuck (BAHAHA I HAD TO), you know shit like this doesn’t add to your life in any way. You focus your energy on activities and discussions that add to your self-evolution. You have made lots of sacrifices in life to progress forward and the universe sees your hard work and is proud of you. Hell, even I’m proud of you. 

You and the Universe like this 🤞. Here’s an affirmation that already rings true but is good to practice anyway, “I surrender to the natural flow of all existence.”

A lot of you study esoteric divinity practices. Tarot, scrying, rune-casting, psychometry, etc. We also have some healers. This may ruffle some feathers. Maybe your family or friend circle doesn’t understand your interests and may push against it but quite frankly… you don’t give a fuck. 

As you shouldn’t.

Your self-resolutions are impressive. You may feel nervous at times but your faith in yourself makes you fearless. You’ve done your studying. You’ve done your healing. You're ready to take the world by storm, and nothing is knocking you off your horse. You are the first to ride into battle and will be the last standing. I don’t know if you’re aware but you thrive in conflict, your soul spirit is akin to Martian energy and loves a good fight, to be honest. 

Your power is in your belief that everything will work out in your favor. “I have the power of God and anime on my side.” 

If you’re not quite at this level yet and you don’t see yourself as this peaceful warrior, you got the “soothe”, “present”, and “friendship” cards. It’s your nerves, baby. It has nothing to do with you as a person. You are smart enough. You are capable. You have everything you need to ride into this new life. 

The entire collective is being asked to slow down. The hustle in society right now does not allow our nervous systems to regulate themselves so everyone is miserable and drained. Remove yourself from this hustle and ground yourself in the present. You have to soothe yourself and lower your cortisol levels. Baby yourself, you deserve it.

Look up techniques to regulate your parasympathetic nervous on YouTube.

Anyway, your soul caught me off guard, you're that sexy mf fr. Ummm back to scent..

YES, okay so please don’t take this the wrong way because I am obsessed with what I'm getting. Hear me out, I used to take kickboxing classes for a few years and that particular gym’s scent was my favorite fucking scent. 

It sounds weird but it smelled like pent-up stress relief: sweat, blood, and Clorox. 

Of course, I’m not saying you smell like this, but this is how I perceive the scent your soul carries.

Your soul’s scent is victory. Particularly, through a bloody means. Your soul understands the purification in blood. Extremely Martian. You’re chill but you’re really fucking intense dude. I like you.

Oooo and also, hang out with friends!! Genuine contact can help relax your body.

Mmmkaye bye!

The Blood You Spill Is The Blood of Kings

#arijackz #pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #astrology observations #pick a pile #scents #perfume #fragrance

[thatfandomslut]

Get Her Back!

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Trigger Warnings: messy breakups, toxic relationship talks, jealousy, language,

Request:

Hi can you write a fic about fem!reader being Regina's ex? Like they met and started dating during summer. Reader is from another town/state and Regina spent the summer there over some relatives house and they had a nasty break up but then a few months later reader's family moved to her town and she started at Northshore 😂 she sees Regina acting like a queen b before Regina saw her and she befriends Janis and Ian <3 anyways don't spare us all the drama hehe

Mean Girls requests are open.

(Y/n) sat beside Janis as the crowd parted and four girls made their way through the halls. With raised brows, she looked their way, despite Damian's pleas not to. There was Cady, the girl she had met alongside Janis and Damian in French class, a girl with wavy black hair without a thought behind her eyes, a honey-blonde haired girl who looked around at everyone, and Regina George, her summer fling from Newport, Rhode Island. (Y/n) was surprised to see Regina, and she wasn't expecting her to be so popular. Her icy glare surveyed the room as they landed on (Y/n)'s, widening when they made eye contact. Fortunately, (Y/n) had the sense to sever the contact and sit down.

"What was that?" Damian questioned, looking between her and Regina, who let her eyes latch onto (Y/n) for a few moments longer before she made her way to their usual table. Janis was looking just as expectant at (Y/n), but the girl shrugged innocently. She was new to school, she didn't want to be involved in all of the drama high school had to offer within her first week. "Girl, you better answer. I've never seen the Queen Bee break her icy stare for just anyone."

With a sigh, (Y/n) glanced up at him, then looked to Janis for help. But she was curious to understand their connection, too. "Let's just say that Regina and I met when I was staying at my grandparents and she was staying with her grandparents in Newport, Rhode Island over the summer. She left me at a party I didn't want to attend because a guy flirted with me, then ignored me when I apologized. Even though I was apologizing for something I didn't do. The official breakup was through a text." (Y/n) explained casually as she ate some of her pizza. She ignored the wide stares from Damian and Janis, knowing they had a million questions.

Leaning back, Janis tapped her knuckles dramatically on the table. "Okay, okay, so how did you end up in the same school as her?" She looked like she was going to burst if (Y/n) didn't answer her questions. She was getting so red in the face, that Damian had to remind her to breathe, but his actions were not effective. Janis was just too curious about how their relationship went down.

(Y/n) glanced at her nails before looking over to Janis with risen brows. "Unfortunate circumstances. Our fathers are doing business together." She stated simply. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked at her pizza, losing her appetite. "Regina wasn't all bad. She was just jealous. Like, when I think about her, I'm in between keying her car and making her lunch. Sometimes, I think about her, and I'm still enamored by her, but then I'm like 'No fuck her, she left me at a party for a guy flirting with me.'" (Y/n) hummed as she pushed her tray away slightly.

Now, Janis was going to explode. She already was ruining Regina's life with Cady, but what if she also messed around with her love life a bit, too? After all, that is exactly what Regina did when she had a crush on her in middle school. "It's kind of like… You want to make her feel jealous and sad over her loss." She associated as Damian eyed her. He always seemed to know when she was plotting. She made this face where her smile looked a little more sly than usual and her eyes narrowed.

(Y/n) blinked at Janis's statement as she nodded in understanding. A small, bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Yeah, 'cause I miss the way she kissed me and the way she used to make me laugh even though she didn't deserve me." She agreed before standing up to discard her food and trash. She didn't mean to be wasteful. but she wasn't feeling her meal anymore. She was too busy thinking about her ex who gave her a whirlwind of a summer and then provided a whiplash type of breakup. Thinking about Regina brought back the whirlwind feeling and the whiplash after-effect every time. It made her bitter. Janis could relate to that bitter feeling. She never got over what Regina did to her. From the kiss to 'Sissy Liz,' Regina's actions were inexcusable. "All in all… I want sweet revenge but I want her again, too." (Y/n) admitted shamelessly.

Janis smirked, leaning forward, and taking (Y/n)'s hands. She knew that Regina tensed at this because she saw it from her periphery. "We can make that happen for you. Do you see those girls beside Regina? The girl with big amber eyes is Gretchen, and the girl with wavy black hair is Karen… There's a party next week on Halloween… If you flirt with them, that will set Regina off." Janis stated, biting her lip excitedly. "Hopefully, this will set Regina George straight for you," Janis confirmed, winking at (Y/n). (Y/n) considered this for a moment. Finally nodding, Janis almost squealed before the three got up and headed to their next class.

On the night of Halloween, Janis and Damian helped (Y/n) get ready. And Janis had to try not to stare at herself. She understood why Regina was so into (Y/n). She kind of was, too. (Y/n) turned around in her very revealing devil costume, smiling over at Damian and Janis. "So, what do you think?" She questioned, wiggling her eyebrows over at them to get their opinions. Damian smirked over at her as he nodded in approval, but Janis was too stunned to speak. "I'll take your faces as a sign of approval." She said happily as she kissed the little cape over her shoulders. "I'll come right over once the party is over." (Y/n) promised, heading out the door, but not before blowing them kisses.

Regina was blown away when (Y/n) walked into the party, and she was taken aback when she saw Cady's outfit. Everyone screamed when Cady popped out behind the girl in red, but she couldn't say she was phased. She was used to Cady doing things that were out there. Still, she didn't stop herself from texting Gretchen and asking who invited Cady. Regina rolled her eyes when she saw that Gretchen pointed out Cady's crush on Aaron. This was obvious to her, but still, maybe she could kill two birds with one stone. She could make (Y/n) jealous and Cady miserable. Even though a bigger part of her wondered if making (Y/n) jealous was worth it. Until she turned to see a flustered Gretchen and a confident (Y/n).

Regina realized that (Y/n) was flirting with Gretchen. Her plans on getting Aaron back and making Cady miserable were put on hold, her eye twitching as (Y/N) soon moved over to flirt with Karen, too. Was this a game to her? Before she could react, she bumped into Aaron, who almost spilled his drink all over her. That was when she realized that making (Y/n) jealous was more important than making Cady jealous. "I was just looking for you," Regina smirked as she took Aaron to the side, acutely aware of (Y/n) and Cady staring with wide eyes.

(Y/n) felt annoyed as she watched Regina and Aaron flirt, but her heart sank when Regina kissed him. Her eyes landed on Cady, who looked heartbroken in the distance. Making her way over, she led Cady out of the house and towards Janis's. "Okay, that's it." (Y/n) spoke as she barged in. "We need to go farther. She has now officially gone after Cady, too." (Y/n) said, gesturing to the mess that was Cady right beside her, her thick make-up running down her cheeks as tears helped create pathways for them.

Janis cursed as she pulled Cady into her arms. "I completely agree. Let's run this bitch into the ground. She's always been like this. She takes everything too far." Janis gritted her teeth in frustration. She looked very angry, but (Y/n) was beginning to wonder if it was for Cady or because Regina had wronged her, too.

"So, then what did Regina do to you?" Janis looked up, horrified by the question. Damian's neck also snapped up, but his eyes were trained on Janis. Janis tried to get the attention off of her, but (Y/n) raised her brows. "Janis, this is important information. Cady and I have a reason, but what is for you? Why do you care what happens to Regina George?"

Janis flushed a bright red, realizing she wasn't going to drop it. "I guess I don't want to discuss it." She crossed her arms, falling back onto the couch behind her. Not wanting to make eye contact with anyone she slipped her mask over her face. This caused everyone to glance at each other and Damian shook his head at her. Janis knew that she was acting childish, but she didn't want to tell her new friends what Regina did to her. She was embarrassed about it, and she didn't want to lose her illusion as a confident lesbian.

"Janis, it's time," Damian ignored her protesting as he slammed a box down, grabbing a Bratz doll and a Dora doll. He then went on to explain that, once upon a time, Janis and Regina were best friends. He then went on to explain why they had stopped being friends. He explained how Regina had kissed her at a party, even though she knew how Janis felt, and then he explained how Regina outed her to the party-goers and then her class using a TY baby she named 'Sissy-Liz.' (Y/n) looked at the ground with her brows furrowed. "Now you know, Cady and (Y/n), you can never trust Regina George." And thus the revenge party began.

During lunch on Monday morning, (Y/n) ignored the looks that Regina gave her. She was mad at Regina for hurting Cady in an attempt to make her jealous. She was mad it worked, and she was even more upset that she used Gretchen and Karen to try to make Regina jealous. As Janis sat next to her, (Y/n) smiled at the girl before leaning over to wipe off the paint that smeared over Janis's cheek. At the action, she saw Regina storm out. So, in an attempt to finally talk to Regina, she excused herself and followed the blonde out of the cafeteria. "What's your problem, Regina? What the fuck is up with the Sissy-Liz and why did you kiss Aaron?" (Y/n) questioned loudly, stopping the girl down the hall.

Regina looked around at everyone with a glare, pulling (Y/n) into the classroom beside her, thankful it was empty. (Y/n) stared at her for a long moment as Regina glanced her up and down with a glare. In a weak moment, (Y/n) thought about pushing her against the door she just closed and kiss her. "What's my problem? You're the one flirting with everyone at this damn school. And why do you care who I kiss? You're the one who is all over Janis Imi'ike." Regina said Janis's name in disgust as she narrowed her eyes. Then it clicked in (Y/n) that Regina was, in fact, jealous. "Besides, I only kissed Aaron. It's not like we got back together. We talked that night and he likes Cady, for whatever reason." Regina looked away, pretending not to know why Aaron liked Cady. Everyone knew Cady was incredibly sweet and pretty.

Blinking, (Y/n) shook her head in slight frustration. "Wait, you and Aaron only kissed? Also, when are you going to realize that I only like you? I'm pissed that I still love you. You left me at a fucking party, Regina, but I'm still into you. And no matter how much you hurt me, I still want you. Do you know how fucked up that is for me?" (Y/n) sniffed as she tried to hold back her tears. She was not going to cry over this. Again. She refused to.

Regina's mouth was agape as she forced herself to look away from (Y/n). Her jaw clenched, and she felt her own tears welling in her eyes. Only these were real tears, not the fake tears she usually used on people. "I feel bad about leaving you at that party. I should have never done that. Last night, I had a reflection on the treadmill and I realized… I've hurt a lot of people. Most of all, I hurt you at that party because I was scared you would leave me for that college guy. I want to make it up to them, starting with you. I want a second chance." Regina confessed, not knowing how (Y/n) was going to react. "I want to apologize, first. So, I'm sorry." Regina swallowed thickly.

(Y/n) stood there in silence for a moment, thinking about how Regina had left her, drunk at the party with no one she knew. It had stung, but here Regina was, pulling out the stinger. Nodding slowly, she took Regina's hand, intertwining their fingers. Neither of them looked at each other, the silence becoming louder than either anticipated. "I forgive you, and I'll give you a second chance. But I can't just bounce back to being your girlfriend. You can, however; ask me on a date… I will only accept if you promise to apologize to Cady and Janis though. You don't have to do it this second or even today, but you still need to say sorry." (Y/n) said, her thumb running over Regina's knuckles.

Regina felt a bit odd, feeling soft like this. She knew it was the right thing to do though. She really cared about (Y/n) and hated seeing her and Cady rush to escape the Halloween party because of her actions. So, the expectation of apologizing to the girls was only fair. "Okay, I will. I promise. And thank you." Regina whispered. The two stayed there for long moments before they were finally forced to separate, having skipped their last two periods to stand together in silence. As they left, Regina gave (Y/n)'s hand one final squeeze, ready to try again with her. (Y/n) smiled with a nod, ready to tell Janis, Damian, and Cady all about Regina and her unexpected apology.

#regina george x reader #regina george #mean girls x reader #mean girls

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Academic Rivals

michael gavey x reader

summary: a partner project in the library leads to heightened emotions

A/N: a request from my dearest belie boo! hope you enjoy @valeskafics !!

TW: smut!, semi-public sex, degradation, hate-fucking, misogyny, michael is a little perv actually

word count: 1,788 words

You despise Michael Gavey. The smug bastard sits right next to you in history and the two of you constantly compete for top of the class. You’ll be the first one to admit that he’d have you beat in any math class but history is yours. The worst part of it is that your professor encourages the rivalry, insisting that it’s ‘healthy competition’. Which is why you’re currently (very apprehensively) making your way to the library to work on your partnered essay with Michael.

You don’t want to make it easy on him though so you strut in, ten minutes late with an iced coffee in your hand. You’re dressed in a sweater and a very short plaid skirt with black thigh highs that just reach under the hem of it. His eyes glance over you almost too quickly, like he’s trying to avoid your gaze.

“You’re late.” He says while looking at his notes.

“This part of the library wasn’t easy to find.” You look around and there isn’t a single person in your line of sight. “Maybe that’s why it’s so dead in here.”

He scoffs. “Or perhaps you’re late because you stopped to get overpriced coffee on the way. Whatever you’re drinking is more sugar than coffee anyhow.”

“So hateful today.” I tease.

“If you spent more time focusing on punctuality then I wouldn’t need to be.” He says pompously. “Get out your notes. I need your contributions for the analysis of economics during the 18th century.”

“In a moment.” You say as you pull out your compact mirror instead of your notes so you can check your hair. You don’t particularly care how it looks at the moment but you know your primping will piss him off.

“Did you even do your research or were you too focused with your own vanity to get the work done?” He asks in a snarky tone and your eyes dart up to meet his.

“Just because I enjoy putting an effort into looking good doesn’t mean i’m an airhead. Of course I did my research.” You say with a roll of your pretty eyes. Michael thinks you look particularly pretty when you’re angry.

“How should I have known any different? You spend more time worrying about getting attention than your studies. It’s pathetic really. You have so much potential, yet you let your feminine interests dominate you.” He says with a mock look of pity.

“Oh you poor thing. If my ‘feminine interests’ seem to dominate my life then why do I have the highest mark in our class? Shouldn’t you have the highest mark if you dedicate all your time to your studies?” You give him a sweet little smile and he is mortified at the way it makes his cock harden.

“History is hardly my top priority when i’m in much more academically challenging classes and I was top of the class last week so it won’t be long before I overtake you again anyhow.” He tries to act nonchalant but you can tell your words got to him.

“It’s probably difficult for you to do as well as you could when you spend most of the class staring at me.” You say and feel a sense of accomplishment when his cheeks turn crimson red.

“I only look at you because you spend all class talking and giving your half-brained takes on the French Revolution.” He retorts but his words are a little clumsy.

“Then why are you blushing?” 

“It’s hot in here.” He says firmly.

“It is a little hot in here.” Your tone is casual but he can sense the mischief in your voice. His eyes widen as you shrug off your sweater to reveal a tight, white camisole underneath and because it isn’t really that warm in the library, your nipples harden under the garment and they poke through the fabric. “Something wrong, Michael?” You ask sweetly, noticing how his eyes are glued to your perky tits.

“No, of course not.” He answers too quickly and you smirk at him.

You stand up and walk over to his side of the table and sit on it right next to him, so your thigh could almost brush his arm. He can now clearly see the lacy hem off your stockings. “You’re so flustered. It’s pathetic.” You say a little cruelly and he stands abruptly, his chair almost tipping back.

“You’re a bitch.” He spits back at you.

“That’s no way to speak to a woman, Gavey. What would your mother think?”

He just glares at you for a moment and you can’t tell if it’s hate or lust burning in his eyes. You realize quickly that it’s the latter when he grips the back of your hair and forces your mouth to his. Michael presses himself against you and you can feel how painfully hard he is in his trousers as he kisses you roughly. You hate to say that you kiss back, enjoying how sloppy and inexperienced he is, although full of emotion.

He parts his mouth from yours but stays slotted between your thighs. He looks almost nervous, like he half expects you to slap him and leave. He’s fucking delighted when you roll your hips gently against his instead. The math nerd has never touched a woman before but he’s more than ready to grasp the opportunity. He slips both his hands right up your top and groans when he feels your soft tits. He massages them and you whine, lifting your shirt for him so he can see exactly what he’s doing.

“Oh, God.” He murmurs as he rolls your nipples between his fingers.

“Have you ever been within two feet of a woman?” You ask him with a cruel little smirk but then you squeak as he pinches your nipple hard. “Ow! Fuck, Michael.” You whine.

“You fucking slut.” He murmurs and you can’t tell if it’s a term of endearment or just plain old misogyny. “Always have some bratty little remark to say.”

Your eyes glaze over a little and you pout at the way he looks at you. You would never think that a virgin could act so dominant.

He looks like he’s fighting some conflict in his mind before he speaks. “Now, you’re going to take your underwear off and bend over the table… then i’m going to fuck you.” He says it like it’s a command but it’s almost as if he’s trying to breathe a dream into reality. When you obey him, his eyes widen and he begins to make quick work on the removal of his belt. He can hardly believe that a woman as hot as you just listened to him, that a woman who seems to despise him with every inch of her being has just bent over a table, waiting to be fucked by him.

He lifts up your skirt, feeling more bricked than he’s ever been as he rubs his hand over your ass. He gives a firm slap to your right cheek just to see how you’d react and he’s pleased when you whimper. Michael runs his fingers through your folds as he finally releases his cock from his pants. He pumps himself as he rubs you, enjoying how wet you are, knowing it means you like it.

“Jesus, Michael, are you gonna stand there all day or are you going to fuck me?” You barely manage to get the question out when he decides to slam himself, balls deep, inside of you. You whine out as you try to get used to how big he is. You really didn’t expect him to be so hung.

All he can do is think to himself, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum. As he tries to block out the sound of your voice so he doesn’t spill himself inside you prematurely.

“Michael…” You whimper out, not even knowing why you’re saying his name.

“Shut the fuck up.” He murmurs before beginning to move himself in and out of you. “Little fucking brat, thinking you’re smarter than me.” He starts to thrust harder. “I’m the smartest person in this entire fucking school.”

His cock is slamming in and out of you at this point and all you can do is let out little moans from how roughly he’s treating you.

“Say it. Say i’m the smartest person in the school.”

“Fuck you, asshole.” You manage to groan out from under him.

He grins. “That’s my job.” Michael may have never had sex before this but he sure as hell knows how the woman’s body works. So, his fingers snake around your front so he can roll your clit between his fingers. You let out a strangled gasp. “Say it. Now.”

“You’re the… smartest… person… in the school.” He punctuates your words with his thrusts as his hips slam against yours, making you stutter at every other word.

“Good girl.” He says smugly.

You give him no warning when you cum and the way your pussy squeezes and convulses around his cock almost makes him fall to his knees and pray to God in thanks. He cums instantly after you, not having the self control to hold it back anymore and not having the will to pull out as he spills deep inside of you.

He now fully contextualizes the fact that, no matter if it’s a deserted section, the two of you are still in the library. He pulls himself out quickly and you whine at the abruptness of it all as he swiftly begins to clothe himself.

“Get dressed!” He urges but you can hardly do more than lie there after being fucked so hard.

You move slowly as you pull up your panties and fix your skirt and top, your thigh-highs looking rumpled.

“We’re going to be expelled!” He panics as he kneels down to straighten up your thigh-highs for you.

“Nobody saw and there’s no cameras in here.” You say as you manage to pull yourself together enough to roll your eyes.

“T-This is your fault!” He exclaims.

Post-nut spiralling i guess.

“My fault?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes, it's your fault! You seduced me!” He gets his things together, his face one shade off of a tomato.

“Then it won’t happen again.” You say simply. His face drops.

“Whatever.” He seems to have calmed down a bit, slightly irritated by your words.

You sigh and decide that it’s best to leave while you’re ahead.

“Goodbye, Michael.” You say in a sing-songy tone as you strut away, now leaving him as the dazed one.

“B-But we didn’t start the essay!” Is all he can get out before you turn around the corner and out of his sight.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 7 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

sorry if y'all only wanted to be on my hotd taglist i forget

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #saltburn #saltburn smut

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Nine

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.4K

Warnings: slightly suggestive but not really

Series Masterlist

Esteban Ocon was bringing her dinner. She hadn't met him before, but he'd been in the lounge once or twice. His height made him unmissable.

But why the hell was he bringing her dinner?

"Charles said to bring this to you," he said as he placed it on the table in front of her.

She stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. And then she leaned forward in her seat and checked inside of the bag. "Charles asked you to bring this to me?"

When he nodded, a grin lit up her face. "Holy fuck, that's so cute," she mumbled and pulled the food from the bag. "Where is he tonight, anyway?"

Esteban shrugged his shoulders. "Doing something for Lorenzo, I think."

It continued on in this manner for a few weeks. Charles would bring her dinner and, if he couldn't, Esteban would (she'd gotten to know Esteban pretty well since he started bringing her food. He was funny, somewhat easy to get along with).

But her favourite evenings were the ones with Charles. He'd get there early for his own piano lesson (could you call it a lesson if the piano ended up abandoned and she ended up on his lap?) and run out for food between her performances.

She'd developed a habit of running late for the second half of her performance. But Charles was just so convincing when his fingers were dancing to the side and hooking her underwear to the side.

But Arthur was starting to catch on. Arthur was starting to get annoyed.

It wasn't often he got to watch her perform. She might have been one of his best friends, sure, but he was a busy guy. But every time he'd been at a performance recently, they were behind schedule, by a lot.

He couldn't pretend he didn't see his brother making his way backstage between every performance. Plus, the lounge was getting more complaints than normal (which wasn't a lot of complaints, but Arthur was used to none).

It was a Thursday when he finally decided to follow his brother backstage. He saw the small pastry container Charles was carrying (because, face it, they couldn't have take out every single night) and followed him to the back rooms.

"Aha!"

It didn't have to be such a dramatic, "gotcha" moment. But Arthur was "French", everything he did was dramatic. "I knew it!"

They weren't even doing anything. But the two were still like deer caught in headlights, frozen as Charles went to open the pastry box.

"Arthur," she started. "What?"

He gestured to the two of them. "I knew it! I knew this!"

Her eyebrows were raised and she spared a look at Charles before turning her attention back to Arthur. "Knew that your brother sometimes brings me pastries as a way of thanking me for the piano lessons I've given him?"

Arthur's face dropped. "What? No," he insisted with a shake of his head. "I know about you two, I know that you're doing the nasty."

She repeated the words back to him, just so that he could hear how ridiculous they sounded.

As funny as keeping up this charade was, Charles was becoming bored. Not bored in the sense that he wanted to find something else to do. But why shouldn't Arthur know? The sooner Arthur knew, the sooner he could bring her around to meet his maman. Only good things could come from Arthur knowing, he thought.

So, Charles spoke up, interrupting them. "Would you be angry?" He asked his little brother. "If there was something happening between us?" His hand fell into her own and he laced their fingers together.

And suddenly, Arthur straightened up his posture. He'd expected Charles to like her, of course. But this was all happening very first. And it was affecting his business, and that was what really got to Arthur.

"You guys can do whatever you want," he said honestly, "but don't let it affect my lounge, or I'm kicking both your asses out of here." He checked the time on his watch. "Speaking of, you need to get back on stage."

She stood, held her hand to her head and saluted. "Yes sir," she said in jest.

Before she could run off to the stage, Charles had a gentle grip on her wrist. He used his free hand to tear a piece of the muffin away from the rest and held it up to her mouth. Gratefully, she took it. "Love you," she said through the mouthful as she fixed her makeup, but it came out more like 'wov oo'.

And, as she ran off to the stage, Charles sat back in his seat, staring at the door she had excited through. There was a certain amount of shock on his face as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Don't tell me that's the first time you guys have said it," Arthur mumbled as he sat down opposite his brother. The soft, melodic sounds of the piano filled the room.

Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. It had been a matter of weeks. God, a month and a half ago she'd been terrified of him. Surely she couldn't love him.

But that was what she'd said, wasn't it. She'd said she loved him. Why would she have said that if she hadn't?

"Well," Arthur began as he reached across the table for the rest of the muffin (he couldn't help but be surprised when Charles actually let him take it), "do you love her?"

It wasn't the most comforting thing Arthur could have said. But would telling Charles that she hadn't meant it romantically have made it worse or better? Either way, that wasn't what he said.

Charles didn't answer. He kept his head in his hands as he stared towards the door.

Arthur offered him a piece of muffin (of the muffin Charles had bought). "Relax, she won't be offended if you don't say it back."

"She won't?"

"Probably doesn't realise she's said it."

"She doesn't?"

Arthur gave his brother a sympathetic look. "Come on, let's get you a drink and watch the rest of the show."

***

He'd only had two drinks the night before. And Charles was grateful for that. He wouldn't have survived this meeting with Lorenzo without it.

"You want me to what?"

"Go to Italy," Lorenzo repeated.

For the life of him, Charles couldn't fathom why. The Leclerc family had deals in place with the Ferrari family ever since the first Monaco Grand Prix. They'd never crossed paths again. Not until now, anyway.

"If the Ferrari's think they can screw us over, they've got another thing coming," said Lorenzo. He threw a folder in Charles's direction, one Charles slid into the inside of his jacket.

The Ferrari's were car manufacturers, not a crime family. This might have been the easiest assignment of Charles's life. That was why he found himself running to her apartment, folder still tucked in his jacket.

The 'love you' incident hadn't played on his mind anymore since Arthur had calmed him down. It wasn't a romantic moment, so why should he overthink it? He knocked on the door and waited patiently, keenly aware that he was patient for nobody else.

And then, dressed in pyjamas, she pulled open the door. She barely got a 'good morning' out before Charles was on her, cupping her cheeks as he kissed her.

"Come with me to Italy," he said as he pulled away and pressed his forehead against her own.

Her eyes were lighting up from the very idea of it. "Seriously, Charles? You seriously want to take me to Italy?"

"Of course I do," he answered. "I can get Arthur to get someone in to cover at The Lounge, can get him to give you holiday pay and stuff. Just, let me take you away."

She didn't have to think about it much, did she. "Okay," she said, grin splitting across her face as she nodded. "Okay, yes, take me away, Charles Leclerc." She pushed him onto her sofa and pounced.

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[coffe-book-club]

˚ʚ vintage doll ♡ a much needed thread ɞ˚

♡ ˚₊  tom kaulitz, 2009 (twenty years)

guitarist and part-time womanizer (that's what his friends say) in his free time he loves going to strip clubs with his friends and smoking.

tom is hot, cool and he know that... oh he knows that. he always had dealings with a lot of girls, but never took them seriously. because as he says “i just want love for one night”

if he could he would marry his black audi A8, it's his little girl. when he drives he also talks to his beloved car.

nice fuckboy.

♡ ˚₊  y/n s/n, 2009 (twenty years)

she attends the university of educational sciences, to become a future kindergarten teacher. intern in a summer center for pre-adolescent children and teenagers.

eternal romantic. she loves everything vintage, under those cute clothes and that big heart she also has big tits and she love classical dance. she only listens to old french songs, it's her obsession.

she's so sweet and kind that unfortunately sometimes people make fun of her, but she's not stupid or naive at all.

♡ ˚₊ but they fuck? yes! yes! just fuck yes!

she got the chubbiest and cutest pussy ever and it's tom's most favorite thing. he'll have her on all fours with her chest on the bed and ass high in the air and her hands will come back to grip her ass cheeks and hold it apart to show off her pretty holes and tom is extremely addicted to it.

tom always has one hand on her breast, always.

♡ ˚₊ are they dating? yes - no. yes?

they act like it. nothing is official, no one is more confused than georg. like what the fuck... they don't date?! but they hitting it?! it does not make sense!

it's more complicated than it seems they beat around that topic but are extremely loyal, one with the other. like tom still messes around with other girls but doesn't fuck them? and she doesn't even notice other men, her eyes are only for tom and especially for his cock.

their mantra? mine and only mine.

hii 🍜 how are you? unfortunately, as i already imagined, this week was very stressful and i had a lot of anxiety and because of my worries and agitation, yesterday i had failed an exam (it was a very bad feeling, because i had never failed before yesterday 😥) let's hope for april. xoxo flo.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz imagines

[maginxlia]

Starring Tokyo Revengers Men In ✰ Eating Out

Cast line up ✰ Ran, Rindou, Hajime, Haruchiyo, Mikey and Shuji

Rated TV-MA

Minors This Isn’t For You

Summary ✰ How the Men eat their favorite meal…. YOU! Kitty pleasing Fun Babes!

Only pronouns in here is Ran Referring to your kitty besides that No pronouns up in here but reader has a Kitty

Ran Haitani

✰ Self Proclaimed Pussy Eating Champ. He got a custom made shirt, Belt, and Bib with this on it

✰ He's not wrong tho, He's a pussy sucking G.O.A.T. Buy this man a cake

✰ Ran Never thought one pussy could have so much control over him but baby yours got him whipped

✰ Got Him coming early to wrap his lips around your clit

✰ He swears he can sense when your pussy throbbing for him. “She needs me,” Ran says as he puts on his suit Jacket. “Who needs you?” Rindou asked his older brother without thinking, “ Y/N pussy needs me bad!” Ran replies while walking out. Rindou was stuck in disgust, Ran even got Sanzu looking at him like he grew two heads

✰ If Ran’s driving with you in his car? He's telling you to finger yourself real quick because he wants to suck your juices off your fingers “I needed a refresher baby” Ran says before kissing the palm of your hand

Ran had you in the backseat of his car, You sat there with your legs open as he laid down on his passenger seat that he had leaned all the way back

Ran had his tongue between your folds lapping away without a care in the world, his fingers deep in you while you had your back pressed firmly against the backseat with nowhere to go

“Ahh Ran, That feels so good” you panted out as Ran sucked on your clit before swirling his tongue around

Your hands found their way into his hair making him groan on your pussy as you pulled him closer

Your body involuntarily grinding up into his mouth as he licked your clit so good you couldn't help but moan loudly while he added another of his fingers inside of you

“Ran, I'm going to cum baby” You try to say but everything was coming out of your mouth as a broken moan

Ran was practically french kissing your pussy as your legs shaked around his head, he grinned up at you while you orgasmed around his fingers

He greedily sucked down your juices before licking his fingers clean “ Always so Scrumptious for me, Baby. Want to taste yourself? He said while face to face with you, his lips wet from the meal he just enjoyed

“Mhmm” you moaned as he caught your lips in a kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth before breaking away “Let's get ready to go back in Before Rindou grows Suspicious” Ran said as he threw your clothes to you “Also Don't bother putting your panties back on” Ran singsonged as he smiled at you

Rindou Haitani

✰ Rindou could live and Die Between your thighs

✰ Your thighs squeezing his head as his tongue licks your clit in that rhythm you like so much?? He's done

✰ He daydreams about your pussy all the time, got Ran Talking about “Hello, is anybody home?” while waving his hand before Rindou's face. He got it bad

✰ Rindou can help but be addicted to the way you taste

✰ Pussy so good it turned the Youngest Haitani into a Fiend

✰ Rindou would Drive through the Rain, Sleet, and Snow just to get home to You and your delicious pussy

✰ Lay your pussy on his face he dares you, Rindou gonna have your hips trembling while you cum on his face as he groans under you

✰ Suffocate him with your pussy and he’ll die with a smile on his face

✰ Rindou the master tongue technician, Having you fucking his face for more “ Cum on my face doll” Rindou grunts out taunting you to rut your pussy against his tongue

You had your pussy hovering over Rindou's face as he laid under you with his tongue out ready to service you

“What the Hold up?” Rindou asks you quite agitated , “ I don't want to hurt you Rin” You answered him shyly. Rindou could only sigh, “You're not going to hurt me, You not sitting on my face is hurting me more than anything right now,” Rindou said to you while gently pinching your thighs “Now let me lick that pretty pussy the way you like it” He encouraged you

You sat on his face, your thighs encasing him as he began to devour your pussy, your shyness was replaced with pleasure while you moved your hips in a circular motion as Rindou sucked your clit making your whole body shake

“Fuck Rin, Feels so good” You moaned out while placing your hand on the wall, He slurped at you like a Man dying of thirst

Rindou's hands rested on your thighs as he laid his tongue flat against your clit. looking down at his eyes that were watching you with amusement, You couldn't help but fuck yourself on his tongue as you watched him watch you

You Ground your dripping pussy on his face getting caught in the bliss he was making you feel “Rin Just like that” you panted as you face fucked your man to your orgasm

Your whole body shook as you came hard on his face, Rin didn't miss a beat slurping up all the juices that flowed from you

“Rin, are you okay?” you bashfully asked as you raised yourself up from him. looking down you saw a gorgeous sight, Rindou's eyes full of lust and adoration.

“I feel fucking Perfect” he answered you before pulling your pussy back down to his mouth

Hajime Kokonoi

✰ You can't tell me this man who licks his tongue out all the time and is a big eater isn't good at slurp slurp 5,000.

✰ Hajime teases you and Himself by licking your clit through your panties

✰ Want you on the dinner table spread wide for him when he gets home Because your pussy is the main course for him

✰ He could live off your pussy juices alone

✰ His Tongue Flicking on your clit while he makes you shop for a new wardrobe for yourself, He won’t stop until you cum in his mouth and has Purchased an entire closet of new clothes

✰ Pussy taste so great He wants to reward you with a new Benz

✰ If you don't push him away as he overstims you with his tongue He'll buy you a brand new house “Just Let Daddy enjoy his meal” Hajime says while smiling into your pussy

✰ If he’s stressed at work, He calling you to his office to eat his worries away

Hajime had been eating your pussy for the past two hours as you sat in his office chair, Your body was tired but your spirit was willing to please your man and calm his stress

“Did you buy their whole winter collection Yet, Kitten?” Hajime asked you while his fingers rubbed your G Spot, “Mhmm Yes I did Koko, Thank you” you could barely answer him from moaning out

“Guess My Kitten can cum for the final time tonight,” Hajime said to you before blowing air on your poor tired clit sending shivers down your spine

Removing his fingers from your pussy he held them to your mouth for you to suck your juices off as he inserted his skilled tongue deep inside you making you whine around his fingers

He grabbed your hips pulling you down onto him so his tongue could fuck you better, His tongue curling inside of you making you grip his desk

He was relentlessly fucking you with his tongue at the same pace and rhythm he fuck your pussy with his dick

“Koko, ahh, soo close. Please don't stop” You whined out as he delicately rubbed your clit with his fingers

Hajime groaned loudly as you clenched hard around his tongue while you came , he was quick to suck up all your juices not leaving behind a single drop as you cried out in pleasure

“Kitten, What colour you said you wanted that car again hmm? Hajime asked you while laying his head on top your knee

Haruchiyo Sanzu

✰ Haruchiyo gets withdrawals if he hasn't tasted your pussy all day

✰ Man wakes you up before he Leaves in the morning just to eat you out nice and good because in his words “ With your taste on my tongue I can do any fucking thing”

✰ Your pussy Juices drive him wilder than any drug can

✰ Got you coming over before Bonten Meetings so he can slurp you up

✰ Licks pussy like his life depends on it and he knows how to do tricks with his tongue

✰ Haruchiyo constantly thinking about getting his tongue pierced for your pleasure but forgoes it Because he can't stop eating your pussy long enough for it to properly heal

✰ He Looks so Pretty Between your legs eating you out, his pupils blown while he looks up at you through those long eyelashes

✰ He's bored? Happy? Stressed? He eating your pussy

Haruchiyo had himself seated on the floor before you while you sat on the couch, he held your legs open while he licked your pussy so tenderly

He licked your clit slowly before looking up at you “ So fucking Sexy, Taste so good” He groaned out while palming himself through his pants

He lowered his head back down to your pussy so his mouth could work miracles on you. He licked long stripes on your clit before he went back to sucking on you gently

His actions were making you arch against the couch as you looked down at him, his eyes staring up at you while he pulled your folds apart to get better access to your clit

He was licking a novel onto your clit with the way his tongue moved on you, the only noises to fill the room were your moans and the noise from Haruchiyo savoring you

“Haru, Looks so Pretty eating my pussy” you moaned out while moving his hair from his face making him moan against your clit

With the pressure and pleasure of his tongue on you, you couldn't stop yourself from cumming hard in his mouth

If it hadn't been for him holding your thighs open you would've trapped his head between your legs. He licked you clean of your juices before placing a kiss on your clit

“That was fucking Hot,” Haruchiyo said before getting off the floor and dropping his pants, “Get ready baby, I'm not done yet” He groaned out to you while smiling

Manjiro “Mikey” Sano

✰ Manjiro Has you saved in his phone as sweet thing and its nothing innocent

✰ See He constantly craves your pussy, Your pussy is easily his favorite thing to eat more than Dorayaki itself

✰ He makes you wear Skirts and Dresses without panties so your pussy is easily accessible to him

✰ Eats you out wherever and whenever he pleases. In the back seat of his car while Sanzu chauffeurs you two around? In his Office? In a private booth at the club? He doesn't give a damn as long he gets his fill of you

✰ He is so mean about it, Blames you for tasting so delicious

✰ Can, and will eat your pussy for Hours. He doesn't care if you're overstimulated. he's still hungry for you

✰ Manjiro Only stopping when he's fully satisfied and has consumed enough of your sweet Juices to fuel him

Manjiro currently had you on your back on the plush carpet of his penthouse with your legs folded up to your chest so that your ass was up towards him as his tongue fucked inside your tender wet pussy

Your poor pussy was already sore from all the orgasms he gave you earlier tonight from all the sucking and licking he did to your clit

The position he had you in was hard for you to hold and it also was difficult for you to breathe but that only amplified your pleasure as Manjiro's fingers rubbed small circles on your clit

His eyes were blown with lust as he bobbed his head up and down to fuck you thoroughly on his warm tongue

His arms wrapped around your waist to hold you steady and make your legs fall closer to your chest while he pulled his tongue out of you “Just wanted a deeper taste of you, Hope you can Handle this baby” He darkly chuckled at you while his hair covered his eyes

As his tongue entered back into your pussy, your body trembled “ Ahh so deep” you could barely moan out while his tongue dig deeper into your soft hole

You knew at this rate you will be cumming on his tongue but you didn't care, you were too busy being hypnotised by the way his tongue fucked in and out of you

He didn't stop his pace when he felt you cumming around his tongue, His tongue fucked you through your orgasm before he pulled his tongue out of you laying it flat against your clit while he admired your fucked out face

Manjiro Let go of you. Allowing your body to fall out of the position he was holding you in for you to lay limp against the plush carpet

“Rest up. I'm still Hungry.” He said before he petting your pussy as he got up off the floor leaving you to close your eyes if Only for a minute

(Bonus) Shuji Hanma

✰ He Denies the fact that he wakes up with the taste of your pussy on his mind

✰ Shuji teases the fuck out of you by licking his tongue out talking about “ I know you wet right now, want me to lick you clean babe??”

✰ The Moment He sees your pussy his mouth is watering and his dick on hard

✰ Pussy eating Menace, Knows when you're close to cumming but pull his head away before you have the chance to cum in his mouth

✰ Want you to shove his head back down between your legs in frustration cause that shit so hot to him

✰ He Knows how to make you cream hard on his tongue so don't worry he'll make you cum when he's ready

✰ Shuji Knows your pussy in and out, “After All why shouldn't I?? Your pussy Belongs to me” Shujji says while laughing at you after teasing the hell out of your pretty pussy

You whine after Shuji Denies your orgasm for the third time tonight, His fingers in you curling slowly as you try to grind against his hand for some much needed friction

“Fuck! Shuji let me cum please” You cry out as tears of frustration pricked your eyes, your left hand teasing your nipple while your right hand on top of Shuji's head pushing him back on your pussy

He Lands a soft spank to your pussy while grinning “Patience Babe, Patience” He says before clearing his throat “ I always make you scream my name in the end” He grunts out as he lowers his face down to your pussy

His tongue licked your swollen clit as his long skilled fingers curled inside you reaching that place that always makes you whine

You couldn't help but raise your body off the mattress while Shuji licked patterns on your clit before delicately sucking on your hard bud making your thighs shake around his head

He could only laugh into your pussy, the sensations driving you even closer to the edge while you said his name like a prayer “ Shuji Shuji Shuji please Shuji please” fell off your lips so effortlessly

His tongue and Fingers didn't halt as he felt you were close to cumming, his golden eyes staring up your face while you came hard around his fingers and mouth as he lapped up your juices

Pulling his fingers free from your weeping pussy you couldn't help but wet your lips with anticipation, “Lemme taste” you moaned out

“Oh you will be tasting yourself soon enough,” Shuji said as he wiped your juices on his hard dick

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[yessa-vie]

❝HELLO, PRINCESS❞ — park seonghwa & kim hongjoong.

PAIRING. kim hongjoong x fem!reader x park seonghwa

GENDER/WARNINGS. enemies to lovers (without the lovers part). suggestive, but not really?. cursing. slight yandere behaviour. way too much fucking tension, i'm sorry.

SYNOPSIS. once your superiors called you saying they caught two of the leaders of the Black Pirates, you rushed to meet them at the abandon building they were in, but the conversation ended up getting a little out of hand.

WORD COUNT. 3,123.

NOTE. this is based on Ateez lore, also is an idea it's been going on and on in my head since i learned a bit more about their lore, once i saw the MATZ mv, idk, it just cliked and i couldn't stop thinking until i wrote it down. it was supposed to be more, but idk if i'll make this into a series or not, so there's a lot in the open. let me know if you wanna see this as a series (:

UPDATE: i did the series (here's the link).

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraing how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

            The Black Pirates had been a problem for a few years now. Your family has always dealt with the rebels in Strickland, you grew up among great leaders, you were trained as one to succeed your parents when you reached a certain age, which would be four years from now, when you turned twenty-eight. Despite this, you had already led persecutions against those who participated in the rebellions since you were seventeen to eighteen years old, shortly after the appearance of the Black Pirates, led by a group called ATEEZ.

            You had already managed to meet them at other times, never all in the same space. They were stealthy enough, they had given up their black clothes and fedoras for a while now, making it harder to find them in the crowd, they started to blend in, wear less flashy clothes, although they continued to cause problems to whoever was around.

            The guards were no longer able to keep up with them, their incompetence making you laugh every time they returned empty-handed. Which leads to the situation you found yourself in now. Two of the eight members had been captured, or rather, allowed themselves to be captured. You didn't know their names, the few times you met them, there was never much friendly exchange of information.

            All except for one. It was at the beginning, when you had your first direct contact with one of the ATEEZ, but curiously he couldn't fully comprehend your words. His stoic beauty didn't help much with the concentration process, especially when he looked so intensely at any information you provided, even if it didn't make sense to him.

            He looked like a statue, a beautiful statue, an ancient painting, just like the ones you had seen stored deep in one of Strickland’s main command centers. The Fallen Angel, an 1847 painting by Alexandre Cabanel, a French painter. You knew that it was a copy of the original painting, but it didn't matter, because it was at that moment that you named the first member you had contact with.

            Angel managed to escape a while later. The incompetence of the guards is already irritating the superiors. When the recordings were reviewed, the interaction between you and Angel caught the attention of the supervisors, who put you in the Search and Capture Team for all members of the Black Pirates. Over time, more and more interactions took place between you and the leaders, each time more intense and direct than the previous ones.

            Angel, Serpent, Fox, Bear, Lion, Cat, Wolf, Squirrel. Each name earned for a specific reason. Angel and Squirrel were the last ones you had come into contact with, but as always, the guards' incompetence caused them both to escape, but not before Squirrel threw a slight wink in the direction of the security camera, knowing that you would see.

            A disbelieving smile painted your lips when you saw that recording. Your eyes now saw the same recording followed by the transmission that had just ended, but now the smile was victorious as you walked in the direction where Squirrel and Serpent were, tied to chairs by iron chains.

            “Leave us.”

            “But ma’am -”

            “Are you questioning a direct order?” At no point did your face leave the two chained to the chairs who were still looking ahead. Heads touching at the back. The smile returning to your lips with the movement and noise of boots against the concrete of the place where you were. “Don’t bother us until I call for you.”

            The last soldier nodded before closing the metal door behind you. The cameras used by the two were still perfectly placed, but properly disconnected, the drones had been confiscated, some of the Black Pirates that followed them had been captured and were already heading to one of the confinement locations.

            Despite the silence that ensued, neither of the two leaders looked at you, but the smile never left their lips. Your eyes passing through every detail of that space, absorbing any trace they left behind, even if deliberately. Over time you learned that everything was a clue, even if you didn't understand it at that exact moment.

            As the boots came into contact with the concrete, Serpent opened his eyes, but they didn't find your figure, even as the sound of the boots on the concrete became closer, the pace was slow, not because you wanted to make an impact, no, that wasn't necessary, what you wanted was time to observe all the possible holes they could put any object into to continue the shitty revolution they wanted.

            Your steps stopped at the beginning of the stone circle that the chairs were in, one of your feet was placed on top, a long sigh leaving your mouth as your hands rested on your hips on the leather belt of the special outfit. One last look around before your steps continued in front of Squirrel who finally opened his eyes, the smirk bringing a slight irritation, making your blood boil slightly. They thought they were intelligent, what irritated you was that they really were, but the guard wasn't the best either.

            “Good to see you again, princess,” he purred the pet name. Your features were controlled, but internally you rolled your eyes. You knew who they were, just as they knew who you were. There was no need for an introduction between you, not since Angel disappeared from the compound he was staying at. “I knew I would see you again, but I didn’t expect it to be under these circumstances.”

            “Don’t you like being tied up and having a woman looking you from above?”

            You allowed yourself a sly smile, being greeted by another from Squirrel who looked you up and down, the smirk never leaving his lips, making you want nothing more than to wipe that fucking smile off.

            “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like it, especially if she’s you,” this time you couldn’t hold back a cynical laugh, which mattered little to Squirrel, “but public places aren’t part of my fetish.”

            “Funny, because every time we meet you are in public and open places, just like this.” Squirrel refused to answer, making you close your mouth with a small toothless smile, continuing to walk around the stone circle, stopping quickly in front of Serpent, his eyes closed, his head tilted back, leaving the tattoo that adorned his neck visible. “Matz.”

            Although you didn't notice the smirk Serpent gave, you saw the movement of his Adam's apple, your eyes quickly moving up to his face, perfectly sculpted, just like the last time you saw him. The brown eyes slightly hidden by hooded eyelids reminded you of the first time you noticed the duality that the leaders possessed, making you change your approach for the third time since you had joined the Search and Capture Team.

            “It’s our unit,” his voice was low, gravelly, you ignored the shock that ran down your spine when you noticed his eyes roaming every part of your face and body, his mouth slightly ajar as his damn tongue – that seemed incapacitated to be kept inside his mouth – made small appearances between Serpent's teeth. “We don’t all have a unit name, but we all have units that overlap...” Your eyes fell on Serpent’s tongue that touched the left corner of his mouth, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by him, causing a sideways smile to appear there. “What is it, princess? Cat’s got your tongue?”

            Your mind ignored the automatic connection with the leader you had named Cat, but the millisecond it took for that to happen was captured by Serpent's vigilant eyes, making his eyebrows arch slightly, making his eyes momentarily remember the bobba that you used to take when you weren't searching for them all over Stricktland.

            “Why does it matter to you? Are you trying to say that you care about me?”

            “First of all, your eyes never left my tongue, so don’t blame me for worrying about losing it,” the lighthearted smile returned to his lips just as the eyelids fell over his eyes, returning the tantalizing look he always had, managing to get under your skin. At your eye roll, the smile only grew, “there are a lot of things I like and still want to do with my tongue, I wish I could keep it for a little while longer.”

            "You can barely keep it in your mouth," Squirrel said laughing, it being the most genuine laugh you've ever heard come out of him, being imitated by Serpent, making you watch them for a moment, seeing the duality happen in front of you, the duality which always broke the image you had created of them over time. “What’s the second thing?”

            Your eyes continued to dart from one to the other as Serpent stared at you, his eyes wider but still hooded, his smile now shyly present but still there taunting you.

            “Second of all, I thought we already made it clear that we care about your well-being princess,” the pet name rolled beautifully in his lips, making shivers run through your body and you martyred yourself for it. Ignoring your body's signals for that simple sentence spoken that way by Serpent, but he – somehow – noticed the effect, letting out a small nasal laugh. “Cute,” he said simply, his body moving away from the back of the chair, his face as close as it's been in a long time, “but I want to know, princess, what are you going to do with us now that you've got us tied up the way you wanted?"

            You allowed a smile to appear on your lips, noticing when Serpent's eyes fell on your mouth, using the opportunity to get even closer to him, his mouth mere centimeters away. A warm breath came out of your mouth, and you noticed Serpent moisten his own lips before you turned your face away, moving closer to him, your lips lightly touching his earlobe and you noticed the hairs on the back of Serpent's neck rising, making your smile increase.

            “Who said I wanted you tied by iron chains to a chair?” You quickly walked away, boots firmly against the floor as you retraced your steps, standing exactly in the middle of the two chairs, facing the door your team was waiting for any sign of you. Their eyes fell on the cameras that surrounded them. “Wasn’t what you did last night enough?”

            Your eyes fell on the two pairs of eyes that were watching you curiously. The security image of Squirrel and Serpent entering a store and destroying the objects there, returning to your mind, the angry screams of your superiors still reverberating in your eardrums, the loss of the work the government was doing, the work and time to be able to replace everything that had been destroyed. To make matters worse, the recording of the destruction they had wrought had already been disseminated, but this was a problem for the Information Transaction Control people, despite their job being Crisis Management, your only job now was the Black Pirates and their leaders.

            “Told you she looked tired,” Squirrel said more to Serpent who just nodded, making you roll your eyes at the comment, ignoring when their worried eyes were directed at you, “did your superiors not let you sleep?”

            “My job is to catch you, so when you show up in the break of dawn destroying government property,” you sighed, climbing into the circle, standing directly in front of Squirrel, eyes watching your every move, you noticed his movement in the chair as you bent down, hands resting on the arm of the chair, cornering him in some way, but none dared to show any other type of reaction, “I’m the one who has to lose my sleep and go after you.”

            “Glad we made your life easier and came here, getting caught in the process.”

            Squirrel’s cocky smile made you let out a weak sigh followed by a sideways smile, barely noticing when he got closer to you, his face millimeters away from yours, but you refused to move, maintaining eye contact with him, ignoring when you felt his knees touch your leg, ignoring the way he opened his legs enough for him to corner you this time.

            Before you could react, he lifted his legs, wrapping yours around his own, pulling you in such a way that you lost your balance, resting on the back of the chair, before realizing an arm wrapped around your waist, while two hands held your wrists. Squirrel had a small smirk and his mouth was slightly open, your breaths were mixing, making it take a while for you to realize that Serpent had left his chair and was now behind you, one of his arms wrapping around your waist, but before you could say anything thing, Serpent's hand covered your mouth, his breath in your ear, making your blood boil.

            “We don’t want anything drastic to happen, do we, princess?”

            You could feel the smile on Serpent's lips, imagining it was almost a copy of the smile you could see on Squirrel. Despite the quick head movement, Serpent was faster, clenching your jaw tighter, throwing your head back, using his right shoulder to hold your head in place.

            “Now princess, don’t be like that, you know us well enough to have expected this to happen somehow,” Squirrel’s legs let go of yours, making Serpent squeeze you tighter against his body, and you cursed under your breath when you realized how firm his body was, the fit was almost perfect to yours, making any movement impossible, “I love our cat and mouse games.”

            Squirrel’s voice was low, hoarse, he approached you and Serpent like a predator. The truth is, you should expect it, Squirrel was stealthy, quick and smart, whenever he had been caught there had been a reason behind it; Serpent was slender, charming, but mysterious, never allowing you to see beyond what he wanted to show you. The two of them together and being captured should have told you enough.

            The second Serpent freed your mouth, Squirrel placed tape over it, feeling Serpent's hand go down to your throat, fingers still gripping your jaw, mouth close enough to your ear for you to hear and feel every breath and reaction from him. Squirrel looked at you with a different sparkle in his eyes.

            “They sent the drone; we have to go.”

            Serpent's voice made your entire body shake, not just because of the proximity, or the tone, but precisely because of the information. A drone. The others were close, the drone was the sign that they were running out of time, again you would lose them, but this time it was all your fault.

            “Unfortunately, our time is short, but I look forward to our next meeting, princess.”

            Squirrel left your point of view, leaving your wrists to be taken care of by Serpent who finally let go of your neck, turning to face you, a place that was previously used by Squirrel. You could hear the other one walking, trying to memorize the paths they used so you could follow them as soon as they released you and you managed to escape the possible restraints they would place on you.

            “I'm sorry, princess, but we can't risk it,” Serpent said quietly, the affection he felt on your waist startling you for a moment, trying to ignore how hot that specific part of your body had become, ignoring the shock that that simple movement caused to your body as a whole. “We’ve already risked so much for you.”

            Before you could have any kind of reaction, a cloth was placed in front of your mouth, at the same time as the tape had been ripped off. They were going to drug you, but as soon as you realized, the control of your legs disappeared. The last memory was of Serpent's arms wrapping around you and a murmur coming from Squirrel.

            All eight of them were eating dinner that Wooyoung had made, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were hungry, considering how long they had stayed in that building, waiting for you and your team. Both of them just hoping that what they did that afternoon wouldn't cause them too much trouble.

            Not that the others would say anything, they all knew how each of them felt about you. The problem was what Nightingale would say when they found out how irresponsible they had been, just to be able to stay longer in your presence, to see you again, to feel your skin and scent.

            Almost instantly, a message arrived for them, a small alert noise and the eight were quickly on their feet, their eyes scanning the space they were in while Yunho went in the direction of the beeper, opening the message that was accompanied by a small digital bird and everyone already knew what to expect with that.

            “You are lucky that I already expect you to do this and I managed to prevent you from being seen, but I need you to be more careful and obey the rules, not flirting instead of helping us reach our final goal. In any case, congratulations on what you managed to do in the last few days, wait for the next contact. If anything, you know how to contact me.”

            All eight exchanged glances and sighs. That was better than they could have expected, but it also explained what had happened when Seonghwa and Hongjoong left the building, getting into the car with Wooyoung to go to the complex. For a moment, everyone's thoughts went to you, a simple exchange of looks between the two older ones said enough, they should have taken better care of you, but time was short, Yeosang had already sent the drone, they needed to prioritize their safe exit.

            “Do you think she’s okay?”

            Jongho's voice was low, his eyes searching the elders' eyes, seeking some kind of confirmation, that he shouldn't worry, but Matz had said how they left you, there was a 50-50 chance that you were okay, and it was what they wanted to focus on.

            “We should have kept her further away from the door.”

            “For her to possibly roll over and fall over the railing?” Hongjoong fussed a little and Seonghwa just gave him a warning look, noticing the leader of the eight running his fingers through his hair nervously. “She’s going to be fine, worse has happened and she survived.”

            The eight nodded, but they knew it was just an automatic reaction, not necessarily one they agreed or trusted, not until they saw you in one piece, even from afar.

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#ateez imagine #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez #ateez fic #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez seongjoong #atz #atz x reader #atz fanfic #seonghwa #atz hongjoong #hongjoong #seongjoong #seongwha #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong ateez #hongjoong x y/n #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa ateez #matz #seongjoong x reader #ateez recs

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 51

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Trapped in another holding pattern. That's all that life seems to be. Phases. Dull and prolonged. Waiting but for what?

Your days aren't much different than before Lloyd's return. He may as well have stayed gone. For you, he's not there. He's nothing. He doesn't deserve to be anything to you.

Your routine once more stagnates; sleep and feedings and some crying. Between it all, you see Harlan or Dottie, sometimes both. Your mother-in-law has grown quiet, even evasive, since her son came back. You know why but you won't argue with her or her precious Marion.

You get your walks in, looking forward to the escape from the suffocating walls. Andy passes you often, waving or saying hi. He doesn't try to talk again, not with your father around. They barely acknowledge each other. You ignore his texts. You're still trying to figure it all out.

When you're at home, Harlan holds Luna as you catch up on your reality TV. You whisper back and forth about your most hated personalities. It can never be what it once was, or what you wished it could be, but it's manageable.

That day, Harlan and Dottie go into town to do some shopping. You haven't seen Lloyd but you don't mourn his absence. Not like before.

You have Luna downstairs in her rolling bassinet. She's fully fed and sleepy. You might do some cooking. You're finally feeling up to it.

You shiver and watch your daughter dozing peacefully. Why is it so cold in here? You hug yourself and notice the draft freezing in from the kitchen. You find one of the french doors slightly open and push it shut. You can guess who did it. You should lock him out but you'd rather not provoke a confrontation.

You go back to the front room. Something feels off. You don't know. Maybe it's just the empty house. You check the thermostat then the bassinet. Luna is tucked against the side. She must feel it too.

You make sure the wheels are locked before you flit out to grab a quilt from the nursery. You pant as you get to the top of the stairs. Whew, you still got work to do before you're anywhere close to back to normal.

You snatch the sewn pink blanket and come back down, catching your breath as you sweep through the doorway.

“Lulu,” you say quietly, “gonna swaddle you up–”

You notice the angle of the bassinet. It's not how you left it, almost parallel to the sofa instead. You rush over and nearly scream as the bottom stares back at you empty.

You drop the quilt and spin, searching for any sign of the culprit. You storm back into the foyer and stomp a foot.

“Lloyd!” You bellow, not caring if you wake the babe, “where the fuck are you? Give me my baby!”

Nothing. Just the echo of your anger. You snarl and holler again. Louder.

“LLOYD! I'M NOT FUCKING AROUND!”

You stride forward and go down the hall. Not in the kitchen. Nope, not in the dining room either. You go through the first floor, yelling, then ascend the stairs again. There's no way he could've snuck her up there.

“You motherfucker. Lloyd!” You stop at the top, “it's not fucking funny.”

“Jesus Christ!” You hear a door swing open, then another as he comes out of his bedroom, “what is it now? Wanna call me more names? Push me around?”

He has a towel clutched around his waist as his feet slap on the floor. He glistens, his hair slick and dripping the noise of the shower still buzzing. You gulp and your heart drops.

“Lloyd, give her back.”

“What?”

“Don't. Give me Luna.”

“Luna–” he grimaces, “what the fuck? You serious? You won't let me see her and now– wait, where is she?”

You stand silent in horror. He's a loar to the bone but dammit, he's convincing.

“You took her. I know… I went to get her a blanket and you…”

“I've been in the shower for twenty minutes, sweetheart,” he sneers, “I… she's… gone?”

You croak. It's all you can do. You spin and hurtle back downstairs. You near the bassinet again and squeal. Gripping the sides as panic floods your chest.

“She's gone! Lloyd! My baby! Where is she?!”

You hear him come downstairs and his footsteps rush across the floor, searching everywhere you did. He appears from the kitchen, barely hanging onto his towel. You look at him as he stares at you palely.

“The back door was unlocked.”

“I know, I thought you were out there–”

“Peaches,” he utters as his eyes dilate, “call the police.”

🍑

You're still sobbing as the red and blue flash on the other side of the window. You told the story a dozen times over. It's 2am and you haven't seen Luna in thirteen hours. You feel her absence heavy in your chest.

Your baby. You failed her. She's gone and it's all your fault.

Why didn't you just take her upstairs? Why did you want to cook? Why weren't you watching her? Why didn't you lock the goddamn door?

“Honey,” Harlan clinks down a mug and his weight dips beside you on the couch, “they'll find her. She can't have gone far.”

“No, no, no,” you bawl, head throbbing, “someone took her. Someone– it's all my fault–”

“Shhh, shhh, it's alright. It'll be alright. She got everyone lookin’, they'll find her.”

“I fucked up!” You fold over your lap, “I was selfish--c-c-carlessssss.”

He hushes you again and rubs your back. You can hear the police milling around outside, a few inside still investigating every nook and cranny.

“Ma'am,” an officer approaches, “we're doing what we can but these things can take a while. You know, we got a few volunteers from the neighborhood too and some statements–”

“I don't care! I want my daughter back,” you snap.

“Sorry, officer, she's just…scared,” Harlan slings his arm over your shoulders.

“Understood,” the officer says, “we're doing all we can.”

You sniffle and bury your face in your palms. This can't be real. It is and it's all on you. You wished so many times that Luna would just go away, you didn't want her, you remember that, and now that wish came true. You are a monster.

“Breathe,” Harlan coos as your breath turns shallow and suffocating, “honey, please, you needa–”

“Let me look!” You sit up, so dizzy you nearly keel over, “I wanna look for her.”

“Dear, you already did. You needa rest.”

“No, no!” You shove him away and stand, slippers slapping as you stomp around the couch, “she's my baby, I can find her! I know I will.”

“You won't help. Lloyd's already out there–” Harlan calls after you as he follows.

You hurry through the entryway and burst out the front door. You hear your father swearing as he scrambles for his shoes. The snow crunches under your thin soles as you jog past the cruisers and the uniformed figures.

You turn down the street without a thought. The streetlights flash over you, yellow, then darkness, yellow, dark…. You don't know where you're going. Maybe you want to disappear too.

You hear Harlan calling your name but he's getting further away, not closer. You slow down and cough, lungs burning. You lean on a fence post and bend to collect yourself.

“What are you doing out here?” A drawl brings you straight up.

You squint. You think it's Lloyd at first, you haven't seen him since the police got there. Andy steps into the soft hue of the lightpole.

“I… what are you doing?” You throw the question back at Andy.

“I'm a volunteer firefighter. Heard there was a missing baby so I've been helping. I'm sorry to hear about Luna. I don't know who would do this.”

You shake your head and snivel, “I don't know.”

“I know what it's like to lose a child but… I think… she's out there. It'll be okay. You'll see her again, I know it.”

“I hope,” your voice cracks and wipes your eyes as your grief spills anew, “I should go back.”

He says nothing. You back away and turn, dragging your feet down the pavement. You see the sirens lit up and the distant beans of flashlights. Suddenly, you're caught around the neck, a hand smothering your mouth.

“Do you wanna see her?” Andy whispers as you kick out, “Luna needs her mommy…” he wrestles you out of the cone of light and behind the fence, “so do I.”

You thrash, clawing at his sleeve. Your slippers fly off in your struggle as he squeezes tighter. No, it can't be him.

You were wrong. Again.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #unexpected #series #drabble #the gray man #defending jacob

[stepfordboys]

Suited

Husbands, Dave and John, swiftly needed suits for a close friend's sudden impromptu wedding. Luckily, the brand-new suit store that had just opened near them was available all night. They rushed over, intending to be in and out as fast as possible, but unbeknownst to the nieve couple, they were about to have a life-changing shopping experience that would quickly eradicate all strive for haste.

When Dave and John first stepped inside, they were immediately assaulted by the thick smell of intense cologne emanating from every corner. The scent was overwhelming but highly masculine, giving their cocks a pleasant twitch. To their surprise, there wasn't a single other customer or shop assistant in sight, but not overthinking it, pursued on.

The overabundance of suits intimidated them, having only worn basic t-shirts and jeans, but they eventually found ones they liked and, most importantly, could afford. They couldn't wait to leave; the intense smell of cologne was beginning to make them feel lightheaded. But, while trying to find a shop assistant, they encountered the endless racks of dress shoes, halting them in their tracks. They had some old, borrowed dress shoes in the car, but the new, freshly polished ones were hypnotically dazzling, begging to be admired and purchased.

As they contemplated which pairs to buy, their minds became more deliriously lightheaded from the cologne, turning them on. The added scent of fresh dress shoe leather intensified that arousal further, excitedly making the hairs on their arms stand up, and their cocks stiffen. With no soul around to stop them, they gave each other a knowing look, and without hesitation, they brought the dress shoes up to their noses and inhaled deeply. After which, they both moaned in dopey satisfaction, the intense masculine scent making their stiff cocks leak pre.

Dave and John were in perverted heaven, enthusiastically sniffing the dress shoes and playing with their stiff bulges. The thrill of potentially being caught pushing their horniness even further. They felt like they were going to explode with lust. They needed release. They needed each other. With looks of total horny desperation, they tossed aside the shoes they were sniffing, along with their picked-out suits, and began ferociously making out. They grasped each other's asses and rubbed their tight bulges together, French kissing and moaning like complete perverts. They wanted to fuck so badly, utterly intoxicated with how horny they felt.

Dave and John, too consumed in their lust, didn't notice the tossed-aside dress shoes and suits had vanished from the floor and materialized onto their bodies, replacing their clothes. They stuffed their hands into each other's pants and stroked one another's throbbing cocks, oblivious to the fact that their clothes had magically changed. Their brains felt like mush, blissfully unaware that their messy hair had magically slicked back to quaffed perfection.

They staggered into a nearby fitting room, unable to stop French kissing and jerking one another off. They needed to fuck, desperate for it. However, catching a glimpse of their reflections in the big, lit-up mirror quickly broke their lustful concentration. Finally, they realized their clothes and hair styling had changed entirely. They gave their reflection and then each other a bewildering look up and down, utterly slack-jawed.

Instantly, as if by divine force, they felt their bodies ignite with an overpowering need to cream their dress pants. Without giving it a second thought, they dry-humped each other, and French kissed even more ferociously than before. It didn't matter that nothing made sense; they were too dumb and horny to care. Besides, it wouldn't matter if they cared or wanted to stop, for the store wouldn't allow it. The store had its hooks in them too deeply, and there was nothing to do but give in entirely.

With ferocious, manly roars, they blasted their hot, sticky loads into their dress pants. However, they didn't just empty their balls but their minds, ejaculating their free will and way of life. For they now belonged to the store, freshly purchased.

Dave and John, or Davey and Jonathan as they both like to go by now, never did end up attending the wedding. Neither did they ever see their family and friends ever again. As the proud owners of the brand-new suit store, they need to give all their time and attention to their beloved business. Gone are the days of lounging about watching mindless sports and playing senseless video games, but instead, putting all their blood, sweat, and tears into their store and no longer wearing plain T-shirts and jeans but rather flashy dress suits. Their hair is now always slicked back to quaffed perfection, never messy like before. Goodbye, worn-out old sneakers and flip-flops. Hello, perfectly polished dress shoes and leather boots. For now, they were perfect, never to want anything the store didn't see fit.

They're looking to hire, by the way. Any takers ;)

#gay #stepford #stepfordization #suit #transformation #tf story

[chuplayswithfire]

So like, fandom has a racism problem, yeah. That's not a surprise. Fandom's just a microcosm of the rest of society, and society's got a racism problem. But the more I look across content, the more I've started to realize people don't seem to understand why racism is.... a problem.

And that makes it harder for people to see racism, when they don't really... understand why and how it's a problem. I've been thinking about this for the last day, and so I'm making this post today because I finally had a chance to sit and put my thoughts together in a way that I hope will make sense.

Because here's the thing. I've been getting... more and more the idea that people think racism is a problem because it makes people feel bad. That Jim stabbed that British officer because calling Frenchie a slave was an insult that hurt Frenchie's feelings. That Ed had the French captain skinned and thrown overboard because calling Ed a donkey hurt his feelings. That the ship full of aristocrats were jerks because they hurt Ed's feelings.

And like. Yeah, I mean, on a very surface level, their feelings were hurt, sure, those were shit things to experience. But it's not about their feelings, first and foremost. Racism isn't about making people feel bad. Those things weren't bad just because they were especially shit insults.

Racism is about making structural oppression. It's about making people less - not making them feel less, but legally, socially, morally, literally, less than. It's about establishing "this is a person, and that is not a person". It's about society wide depersonalization. And in the context of OFMD especially, it's about whiteness and colonization, and the way that racism is the socially created and legally enforced system through which whiteness decides who counts and who doesn't. Who is a person and who is a thing.

Slaves and donkeys? These are things. These are items to be bought and traded and sold and put down and compensated for the loss. They are not people with rights and freedoms and protections, they are line items on someone's accounting sheet, objects with monetary value pre-determined and understood.

Frenchie isn't called a slave because that British officer (yeah, I'm not learning his name, not sorry) felt like being an ass or wanted to make him feel bad. He called Frenchie a slave because he was furious that some thing, some object, some less than creature, was speaking to him as if they could have even the faintest hope of being on the same playing field, let alone equally human. He was declaring Frenchie an object and a tool that should be silent unless spoken to.

That's why Jim throws that knife at him. That's why Jim is pissed enough to blow their cover even with a fuck-off huge warship right next to them.

Because everyone on the ship knows exactly what being a slave would make Frenchie. And Jim especially has reason to be aware of and sensitive to that, given that Jim is in love with a Black man who's already been being demeaned, dismissed, and disdained through this whole encounter.

Those British officers get their shit wrecked because they're declaring people the crew loves to be less than they are, less than human, reminding them all that in the world outside of piracy Frenchie, Oluwande, and Roach aren't people but property. Objects. And that shit's not fucking acceptable.

This logic directly follows through with the French captain Ed has killed - which, let's be clear, that French captain was definitely going to be killed no matter what, because this is a pirate raid and if they massacred what seemed to be a majority of the crew already, there's little chance they'll leave the dickbag captain alive behind them. So this isn't a man who got killed because he was a racist fucking dick.

This is a man who got himself a worse death being a racist fucking dick.

The scene plays out in a very similar way as the previous dickbag racist to get got, except in this case, there's no Jim to to take control of the situation (Stede is not able particularly helpful here because of his own implicit biases that he's yet to unpack), there's just Ed and Fang here to react to this situation.

And the situation is - the French Captain being a racist, and specifically choosing to focus on being a racist to Ed rather than just being generally anti-pirate. I'd thought that was pretty clear until I came across the sentiment that Ed is lashing out here because his "feelings were hurt" rather than because he was responding to racist bigotry, so let's be blunt about that.

Stede starts the interaction with a characteristically bitchy remark about how there's a distinct lack of saucier spoons on this "supposedly first class vessel", but when the French captain throws out, "my apologies... hadn't imagined we'd be hosting your kind", the meaning of that statement goes right over Stede's head. He registers insult, sure, but the way Ed stills there? The way he closes his eyes and then turns and requests clarification in a way that is clearly meant to give this asshole a chance correct his mistake?

That's Ed identifying what Stede missed. That when the French captain says your kind he's not referring to pirates. And that's made clear by the fact that when he continues on, he doesn't direct his response to Ed And Stede, he directs it to Ed specifically.

"A rich donkey is still a donkey."

That's the French captain doing what the British officer did. Naming Ed for an object, a beast of burden, a thing that is not worthy of recognition or respect or acknowledgement. Ed's Blackbeard and yet as far as this asshole is concerned, by the very fact that he's not white nothing he's ever accomplished, not the fear he inspires or the legend he's built, matters in the face of that.

That's what racism is about.

It's about whiteness establishing that the most successful, the most fearsome, the most legendary of all pirates is an indigenous man and that makes him worth less than any white man. He's got this captain's life in his hands, and even that can't make the man treat Ed with a crumb of caution or respect. He's not a person to that French man. He's an upstart, an animal stepping out of line.

And honestly, I think too many people think Stede's reaction was the right one. Because it wasn't. At all.

Stede's not helpful here, I mentioned earlier, because he's got his own implicit bias acting as baggage. When Ed expresses his absolute fury at this man calling him a donkey, a beast of burden, an animal, even though he doesn't know nothing about Ed, Stede's response - is to try and stop the anger, rather than address the source of it. "Don't debase yourself for a man who doesn't have a single tureen on board." @knowlesian has written some great meta on the subject of this response, but to put it simply - Ed also doesn't have a tureen on his ship, Stede, and there's nothing debasing in a natural and normal anger response.

Someone labels you an animal, a beast, a creature, you should get angry. They should get cussed the fuck out. Especially because again, it's not unique. The French captain is very effectively reminding Ed that the greater society, the world, will never see him as a full person, deserving of respect and acknowledgement, no matter what he has or how he carries himself or what he accomplishes. It's foreshadowing how the party will go - to the white world, Ed will always be a novelty at best, a disobedient animal at worst.

Lashing out at that, especially with words, isn't debasing yourself.

And honestly, that guy getting thrown overboard? And skinned? (Though really, it's up in the air as to whether Fang actually bothered with that.) That's a power fantasy for so many of us fans of color, lmao, the idea that god, one of the fucked up assholes out here doing their level to remind us that the world does not see us as full and equal people, gets to suffer and die.

It's not because his feelings were hurt. It's because just like the British officers, this man is reminding Ed and the audience that the structural power of racism is such that you can never win within the system of it, because the system is built to keep us out, keep us down, keep us pinned.

Stede's reaction makes sense, because he's part of that system too - he's been born and raised in it, in the respectability politics, in the genteel illusion that the upperclass way of doing things, where you direct the initial response to the person reacting too loud, too public, showing all that messy, uncouth emotion rather than the person who's actually the problem. You look at the response rather than the source.

And Stede, to his credit, isn't trying to shut Ed up. He's trying, in his own way, to be helpful, actually!

But Stede doesn't know what it's like, to be considered not a person. As a white gay man who everyone has been able to clock as gay his entire life, he's been treated as lesser than and wrong and disgusting his entire life, by his father and his peers, but he's till a rich, land-owning white man. That makes him a person, even if a despised, rejected, undesired one. His society sees him as a person, someone who could even, theoretically, plausibly, be treated with respect if he could just behave according to their rules.

That's not an opportunity you can have, with racism. It's one of the underlying differences in homophobia and racism that I've personally felt, as someone who's experienced both. With homophobia, what you are is wrong but the expectation is that you can, should, and must, act "right", behavior "appropriately" and then you can fit in. At the bottom of the pack, but in. With racism, you're always out. You can't change your race. You can't change what you're identified as on sight. You can't do anything to overcome what you are, and that's why you're treated as and understood to be less than.

And in this time period, that's very much a legal standing, far more overtly than it is in 2022. Black people aren't people, in 1717, they're property or soon to be property or creatures without real intelligence who need to be minded by their betters. Indigenous people aren't people, they're savage animals who need to be minded by their betters, uneducated, uncontrolled.

The response to the British, and the French, and later to those aristocrats, is appropriate in this world, because this is a world that does in fact, cater a bit to that fantasy - what if some people got what they deserved, sometimes? What if it was in fact, the right thing, to fuck up a racist? The internet loves to talk about punching Nazis and TERFs, as they should, but the same goes for a racist too. These guys are reinforcing a corrupt, horrific system of abuse, and they get what they deserve.

I'm sure this won't reach many people. But if you read this post, I hope you think about what racism is, and how it works, and understand that it's not about the individual at all. It's about the system at play and how that system dehumanizes and minimizes and objectifies whole classes of people for the sake of uplifting a single race and making everyone else into objects and novelties and creatures rather than people.

Next time you see someone say Ed "had his feelings hurt" by the French captain, or imply that the British navy were "rude" to Frenchie, Oluwande, and Roach, remind them that they weren't fucking rude, feelings weren't hurt, they were being actively dehumanized in accordance with an overarching system of widespread oppression.

#low on the totem pole #bottom of the pack #ofmd #ofmd meta #fandom fuckery #edward teach #our flag means death #i haven't done a racism 101 style post in ages but certain circumstances have shown me this is necessary lol #at least for me to get my own thoughts out so i dont just roll my eyes into the back of my skull #edited to remove phrase in exchange for because reminded of bad practices with that phrase

[sainamoonshine]

My unpopular opinion is that in languages with grammatical gender like french, it does make sense for Murderbot to be referred to by whatever pronoun is usually used for robots or constructs. (In french, therefore, grammatical masculine.) Because there are no traditional « it » pronouns in these languages for objects, and while there are neo-pronouns, they are things one must choose for themselves. Do you honestly think MB actually spent time thinking about its pronouns?! No it didn’t. On forms it picks « non-applicable ». When people ask it what pronouns they should use, its honest opinion is « why do you even need to talk about me. Just don’t fucking do that. Don’t think about me either. Just fucking stop perceiving me altogether! »

Thinking about what pronouns to use probably makes it way more uncomfortable than letting people call it what they’ve already been calling it. Making a conscious choice about its identity? And telling other people about it??? No thanks bye, it’s just gonna walk into the ocean now, see you never.

Lbr it probably thinks the only bots that get fancy pronouns are comfort units, and the pronouns are probably shoved into them by humans same as everything else. MB would meet a bot using a neopronoun and it would wish it could barf. Because in a language like french, he/him and she/her, when applied to objects, ARE fulfilling the function of the english « it ». Nobody is saying the table is a woman or related to feminity in any way outside of stand-up comedy; when it comes to objects grammatical gender really has fuckall to do with human gender even if we use the same words. Even animal species names have grammatical gender and everyone gets that there are male and female turtles even if the word « turtle » is a female word, it’s not that confusing.

(I know this is strange when your language has different pronouns for people and for objects, but understand that english uses the same word to indicate if I’m addressing one or many people, and that is confusing to me.)

TL;DR; stop harassing international fans for not getting the correct MB pronoun in english right off the bat. Yes in english calling it « he » or « her » or « them » is upsetting because it’s projecting an identity unto it. But same goes for trying to get a foreign language translation to use a pronoun intended to express or showcase an identity (or even a lack of one!). Murderbot has not thought about it this hard, refuses to think about it this hard -> and that is its only canon accurate gender identity.

#the murderbot diaries #taking a bat to an hornet’s nest there but I said what I said #I go by she/her because that’s the default people use for me even tho my own gender identity is also #ugh I would sincerely prefer not to have to deal with this think about it or even be perceived #and I would be hella pissed if a book of my life came out and people got into fights about my pronouns #trying to assign me the most politically accurate agender pronoun possible #when my own choice has always been specifically to let people call me the default because idc #and I don’t want to be identified by any identifier that might indicate I do care #and using a different pronoun even if its a gender neutral one is a CHOICE! #it does indicate a preference! and caring about it enough to pick a word and tell people about it!!! #Murderbot didn’t pick IT that is specifically the point! #it was used for it and MB just kept going with that #I mean imagine it if wrote down a different pronoun on its ID form one day and someone actually called it that #it would set itself on fire #its discomfort at having made a personal choice and the personal choice being respected would be off the charts #maybe it a later book after hella character development but I just don’t see it happening tbh #respect the agenders who just don’t want to get involved and use the pronoun equivalent of the default avatar that came with the account #PLEASE #that is all

[slocumjoe]

Companions reactions when Sole finds an abandoned baby and is like, “Welp! No parents, your mine now!” And wants to take them back with them?

Cait; ...okay...she understands that there is something of an obligation to not leave a baby to die, but...does Sole really have to keep it? Surely there's someone else that would like a baby, like a gay couple somewhere. Maybe those lesbians in the DC science center. Or the Ms. Nanny and teacher dude that got married, also in Diamond City. Like...Sole already has a bab—oh. Right.

Codsworth; Gotcha, what are they naming it? He'll sort out the feeding situation while they figure it out, go check shops for baby things.

Curie; Ms. Nanny protocol remnants + Curie naturally having a strong sense of justice = Sole will finally hear Curie say naughty words. They won't understand it if they don't speak French, but Curie is spitting pissed off. If Sole wants that baby, they might have to wrestle it out of her hands. Becomes very mama bear. Fusses over it in incessantly. Will relax once it is in a safe environment, and then Sole can claim it for themselves.

Danse; Goes fucking Terminator levels of bodyguard until the kid is in safe hands, like Curie. If a leaf on a tree moves, he's shooting it. Twitchy and on high alert until they get to a settlement. Sole is already planning on putting a baby room in their house. Very worried. Sole has a lot on their plate, much of it involving travel. Sole is not going to travel with a baby in their arms, fuck no. Pre-BB, suggests taking it straight to the Prydwen. After...surprisingly open to keeping it.

Deacon; Thinks they're straight-up joking. Makes a joke in response. Sole keeps joking, he keeps joking, Sole holds up a baby, Deacon has an aneurysm. Plays 5d chess in his head, planning the safest routes back to a town. Hyperventilating the whole time. Babies are loud. Loud is bad. Sole says they want it. Also bad. Sole. You are a spy. Spies don't have kids. You can't keep it, he's sorry, he knows what it's like, but that kid is safer somewhere else.

Gage; The deepest sigh man has ever achieved. Could have inflated a blimp with it. Okay, yeah, sure. Don't use crotchgoblins as bearbait. He's a raider, but there's...no, no there isn't honor amongst raiders. There is with Gage, though, he has, like, some coupons he can cash in whenever the ol' moral compass stops pointing at money. But...no. No, Sole...no. You don't have to put it back, but you can't keep it. And if they're Overboss? What the fuck are you thinking? What, like Mags is gonna babysit or some shi–why are they looking at him like that.

Hancock; A pendulum of 'chill with it' and 'unchill.' On one hand, SOMEONE GET THE BABY AN ADULT. On the other, WAIT NO NOT HIM, A CAPABLE ADULT. Doesn't matter what relationship he has with Sole. Hancock is getting babysitting duty. Hancock always gets babysitting duty. For some reason, he gets stuck watching kids way too fucking much. It's not that he hates them, it's that he breathes more Jet than air and has a penchant for throwing knives at things when bored. Please for the love of God, keep it if you want, but understand Hancock himself is baby and is not suitable for watching another baby.

MacCready; He's from Little Lamplight. As if he's even gonna blink. Hops on board quicker than Codsworth.

Piper; Sole's probably still in that phase after having their own child, where the hormones go all crazy with kids in general...losing their kid isn't helping matters, either, huh? Regardless of the circumstances, Piper is just going to shrug and do what she can to help. Whoever the parents are, they're either dead or don't deserve it, so...

Nick; Will not rest until he finds parents, dead or alive. If they are alive, has some stern fucking words for them. It'll take a damn good reason for him to take the kid from Sole and give it back to the parents. Will also suggest giving it to a couple who wants kids, but can't have them. Knows quite a few people who'd appreciate it. But not against Sole keeping it. Hope they like Uncle Nick back-seat parenting, though. Like a crusty grandpa at Thanksgiving who makes a face when your five year old has an iPad.

That grandpa is right, by the way.

Preston; Also doesn't flinch. Baby alone in the Commonwealth, you take the baby. This isn't a moral conundrum, it's basic common sense. Sole wants to keep the baby? Chill. Preston is not a useless potato sack of a person, like some people. Baby get, baby take care of. Hey, they're Minutemen, too, so they should have access to resources you need for childrearing. Third fastest to hop aboard the This Is My Baby Now train.

X6-88;

#fo4 #fallout 4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #piper wright #nick valentine #companions react #robert joseph maccready #x6-88 #porter gage #Codsworth

[our-flag-means-love]

by popular demand (aka the 63 people who voted "yes" in my poll (six months ago oops) for whether or not i should do this)

here's why ofmd is a romcom, beat by beat

so for the purposes of this analysis, the ten stages outlined in this article are what i'm using for reference.

(and for the sake of everyone's dashes, i've added a cut because This Got Long. like, genuinely, 1.6k and 24 images. you've been warned.)

1. Unfulfilled Desire: something important is missing from the love interests' lives.

before the love interests meet, both of their lives are lacking in some way, often in a way they hardly realize. and this unfulfilled desire doesn't have to be romantic love in and of itself, and quite often it's not. and the things missing from ed and stede's lives are not romantic love. not at first.

what stede's missing is skill and structure. to put it bluntly, he has no idea what the fuck he's doing as a pirate, and without the guidance of someone more experienced, he'd likely get himself and his whole crew killed soon.

meanwhile, what ed's missing is interest. he's just about as bored with his life as anyone can be. every day is the same, and he needs something new—a new environment, a new challenge—to bring the spark back into his life.

2. Meet-Cute: the love interests meet, and at first, their personalities clash.

now, granted... in most meet-cutes, one of the protagonists isn't like three-quarters dead and nearly unconscious. but, as we know, ofmd is not like most shows.

but when we fast forward a bit to their real proper first meeting, we can quickly start to see how their personalities differ. in many meet-cutes, the love interests start off on bad terms, but in ofmd it's more of a contrast than a real clash, as stede and ed take a liking to each other right away.

in their very first conversation, stede is self-conscious and fretting, while ed is relaxed as can be. and as they talk, ed is in awe of stede's eccentricities, and stede is in awe of ed's powerful reputation.

and nothing exemplifies their contrast better than what they spend the rest of the episode doing—literally switching clothes and switching roles, getting a taste of what it would be like to be each other.

3. Happy Together: the love interests spend time together and grow to enjoy each other's company.

the classic honeymoon phase—not necessarily denoting romance yet, just a bond that continues to grow stronger the more time they spend together.

one of their first, biggest bonding events, just a few days after they met, is of course the fancy french party. while the night ends in disaster, the two end up much closer after the experiences they shared.

however, i think by far the best example of this stage is the montage at the beginning of episode 6, narrated by none other than my favorite (derogatory) terrible little rat man, izzy hands, who will become relevant soon. in romcoms, this stage is often shown through montages, so it only makes sense that that would be a great demonstration of it here as well.

4. Obstacles Arise: the love interests' original lives and obligations catch back up with them.

it's no longer possible to avoid the hard truths their happiness let them ignore. while both ed and stede go through this, i think stede goes through it differently and at different, non-linear times, so i'll talk about him first.

the pre-edward life that stede has been forcing to the back of his mind is, quite obviously, his wife and children back on land. and he's done a very effective job of ignoring it while he's been around ed.

he was fretting about it before—like in episode 2 with nigel's guilt ghost—but it doesn't seem to fully hit him again until he learns in episode 9 that he'd been declared dead. (in my opinion, the dreams/flashbacks in episode 4 feel less about stede's guilt, specifically, than these other instances do. but even if they are, that's still before he properly met ed.) so he does go through this stage, but it happens in slightly different ways and at different times.

ed, on the other hand, has a very specific and concrete obligation that catches up with him: a promise he made two weeks ago.

this is where izzy comes in. just as mary is the personified symbol of stede's old life, izzy is the equivalent for ed. whether ed initially intended to follow through on the plan or only said it to placate izzy is up for debate (and my personal take is that it's somewhere in between, but that's a story for another time), but izzy is going to hold him to it regardless.

and when ed can't bring himself to do it, because of both his growing feelings for stede and his trauma around killing people himself, izzy is determined to carry out the act for him.

5. The Journey: the love interests face and overcome the obstacles together.

what better way to overcome adversity than by getting thumbtacked to a mast by the same Very Angy Little Guy who's the source of the adversity in the first place? with izzy banished, the biggest obstacle to ed and stede's love is out of the way (for now).

stede still hasn't overcome his big obstacle, of course, but as i said, that happens very non-linearly with regard to the romcom structure.

the two also overcome other minor obstacles, like their bickering during the treasure hunt adventure. the key is that they face what's in their path and settle into a new normal with each other.

6. New Obstacles: despite solutions seeming effective, more hardships arise.

the next big issue thrown into ed and stede's relationship has a name, and its name is calico jack rackham, my favorite (affectionate) dumpster fire of a man. which makes sense—after all, his sole purpose in meeting up with them was to separate them before the english navy arrived. and he does a damn effective job of it.

and even once he's gone, they're still faced with chauncey badminton, stede's near-execution, and his and ed's eventual surrender to the english. they may have escaped chauncey's wrath (for now), but they bought it at the cost of their freedom.

and on top of all of that, now they finally confess their feelings for each other and make plans to run away together, and the choice—really, stede's choice—of whether or not to go through with running off to china looms in the distance. speaking of which…

7. The Choice: the love interests have to decide if the relationship can work.

a turning point is reached, and a decision has to be made. can they go through with it? are they really the best thing for each other?

the choice stede makes here is helped along in no small part by chauncey badminton, whose encounter just solidifies the beliefs stede already held—that he abandoned his family, and that ed is better off without him.

so stede makes the choice to run.

he goes home to his family, and ed is left to return to the ship alone.

8. Crisis: the love interests—now apart—ruminate and face the consequences of their choice.

the winter of their discontent. stede has made his choice, they've separated, and they're both worse off for it.

ed is depressed, retreating to his blanket fort and writing sad songs while eating marmalade.

and meanwhile, stede is back with mary and the kids, but learns that they'd all moved on and were much happier without him around. so he's left trying to force himself back into a space where he no longer fits, and all the while he misses ed more than anything.

and of course, ed takes it one step further by going full emo kraken mode. he's so distraught about stede leaving that he too forces himself back into the shell of what people expect of him—of what he was supposed to be before he even met stede—despite not fitting there anymore.

it's obvious that without each other, they're both in pretty rough shape.

9. Epiphany: one or both of the love interests conclude that they belong together and rush to reunite.

think of this stage as the person running through the airport to reach their love interest before the flight leaves.

in ofmd, it's clear who has the epiphany, because we watch it happen in real time. stede sits down with mary and asks her how it feels to be in love, and while she describes it, all he can think of is his time with ed. he finally realizes that what he's been feeling all along is love.

once he knows this, he knows he has to leave his family again, so he can reunite with ed. he and mary stage their fuckery, and stede rows off in a dinghy bound for wherever ed is, because he knows that as long as he's with ed, he'll be happy and everything will be okay.

10. Resolution: the love interests are reunited. desires are fulfilled, and all is well.

sooo… stay tuned for october 5th, i suppose?

#the show is the relationship y'all #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd meta #ofmd analysis #stede bonnet #edward teach #blackbeard #blackbonnet #gentlebeard