#the only exception is young women dating old men so they can get his money when he dies 🥰

[donnabroadway]

To be young, beautiful, and the preference

I recently made a video about the Sprinkle Sprinkle lady, Sheraseven, and how her messaging didn't seem right with me, especially the part of her husband being married and having a girlfriend and her allegedly helping to clean out the wife's bank account, and I was told I didn't get it and they're right. The message is missing me, because at 36, I have lived to see a few things and know that everything she is saying is not completely copacetic and simply unrealistic and don't make sense. When I was 23, I was asked on a date by an older gentleman who then proceeded to ask me if I wanted to be a courtesans, which is another word for escort or, what we call today, a 304. This was not the first or last time I was asked this. I wasn't that type of girl, so I declined but no shame to those who are in the life. I had offers from older men to "take care of me," which was expected as I was young and beautiful and they were older, not necessarily ugly, but older with stable careers and money and we both knew what it was. But I noticed by the time I hit my late 20s, the offers kind of stopped. Not completely, as the man got to be a bit older, but slowed down. I say all that to say, the women like Savannah James and Sheraseven, who can truly have the hypergamous life, at seemingly very little expense, are few and far between and even Shera7 is looking a little funny in the light and Savannah doesn't talk much, so it's easy to project onto her.

I have noticed that most of the discord against Sheraseven and the SprinkleSprinkle movement comes from women in my age range, mid-late 30s to Gen X women in their 50s because we've been through it and we see how the men treat these women when they're done with them and it's not us being bitter that we're "old," it's that we know how it turns out and all the stuff they're telling you and giving you is just B.S. But like every generation, this generation of young people will have to figure it out on their own and will eventually join the elder circle of those watching the young people make the mistakes they once made.

There is a reason why the age gap between men and women began to widen around the age of 28 or so because as women began to wisen up, so do men and the luster tends to wane on both ends and this also the age when most people start to permanently, or at least legally, couple up and begin families and men, who like to impress with money, material things, and experiences can't really do that with a woman who has been experiencing that life since she was 17 or 18. Bow Wow, who is only a few months younger than me, famously said he want a woman he can give new experiences to and Marques Houston, who is in his early 40s, said he wanted a younger woman who didn't have baggage and kids, all the while saying his 19 year old wife was more mature than women twice her age. Okay. This is nothing new, men can simply blame it on feminism and independent womanhood but if we go back to history, the amount of our grandmothers and great grandmothers who got married and became mothers before they turned 18, to men twice their age, is astounding and this was before women had "rights." So miss me with the reasonings and excuses.

Youth and beauty are the most depreciating commodities but we treat them like they're everlasting and for some reason, every generation believes they are the exception and not the rule. Men have trained young, beautiful, 18-25 year old women to give them their peak beauty and time, many times to be left with very little to show for it once they hit the proverbial wall of 35 and up. Every older woman with a not so tight body and 3-4 kids, was once supple, young, and believed the world was her oyster was well and that she would never be traded in for the newest model. The naivete and resilience of late teens-20 somethings to see the best in life and that they're the exception will always amaze me because 20 somethings, who have never experienced life on their own, believe they have it all figured out. I remember being in my early 20s and getting offended when an older person told me I had more to learn or that I wasn't as wise as I thought I was and they weren't wrong and I should have listened because I would have saved myself a few mistakes and some time.

The way things were done may have changed but the game is still the same. I was in my early-mid 20s when social media really began popping to the point where nobodies became bigger stars than those with legit talent. It made multimillionaires and red carpet staples out of ordinary people. IG really became the new King Magazine, if you know you know, where a new way of life opened for women simply because they were beautiful. These women like Amber Rose, Black Chyna, Brittney Renner, India Love, Bernice Burgous, and even Kim Kardashian would go viral every time they posted a picture and many got opportunities and high profile relationships from it. The IG baddies who were at their peak in the early-mid 2010s are all in their thirties and some in their 40s and they're starting to pivot. They know Kim Kardashian is the only 40 plus woman who can still post a naked picture and it seem normal. Women in this life, from all generations, typically do one of three things, they have a baby, they get married, or they pivot into a successful business owner or even religion. The women who are my age, mid-late 30s are considered old or used up because this is the age your body changes and no longer easily bounces back, and women tend to be wiser and talk back a little more and men want a trophy and not a chihuahua.

The amount of women who believe they can outplay the architect of the game, is amazing to me. The game will always be rigged to let just enough of the select few in for us to believe we all have a chance at being the exception to the rule. The amount of women I see who believe they are playing men, only to get played at the end, is astounding. I remember when Ashley, from RHOP, was still married to Michael and they redid their prenup after he got caught cheating to get half of their shared assets and they're now divorced and she's not getting any child support while living in a house she cannot afford, that is in an LLC, that Michael owns and he can come by anytime he wants and make her company leave but let the internet tell it, Ashley won and she outplayed Michael.

There is a phrase that goes "church is where hoes go to die" because at some point, everyone ages out of the game, no matter what game you play, and sometimes the church is the only place a former hussie can have a little bit of power. There is a reason why Blac Chyna and Brittany Renner are trying to pivot because while they're still beautiful and someone's dream girl, they've aged out of the population they were once prominent in.

[the-lady-writes-what]

If you say Andrew Tate isn't a raging misogynist because he ONCE called women "the precious gift in the world," you deserve to rot in the belly of the earth along with him. Calling women "precious" is infantilzing, and it's especially insulting when Tate makes most of his money manipulating young women into dating him, only to push them into camgirl work and takes most of the money. The whole "most precious gift blah blah blah..." comes with the caveat that you're only precious if you shut up and obey your "man" and have all his babies.

Other things Andrew Tate has said or implied include but not limited to:

Calling women status symbols, in other words objects

Implying physical abuse to get your woman to listen to you

Various instances of slut shaming

Claiming a woman's worth is only in her looks

Claiming that a man shouldn't have to take responsibility and take on the role of father if he has children with a woman (me thinks Tate's daddy issues doth protest too much)

Tried to fight with Greta Thurnberg for no reason except show off how many ridiculous cars he has despite that Greta and a lot of other women just don't care about something so stupid

Calling adult women girls, bitches, hoes, etc.

Saying that he won't date women under 20, ie older women have more life experience so they'll be able to see through his bullshit

Xenophobia, racism, transphobia, homophobia

Manipulating women into dating him under false pretenses of genuine affection and coercing them into cam work where he gains all the money If you stand with Andrew Tate, even if you're a woman, you have no self respect. You're a guy who's been suckered in by his false sense of security, I hope you spend the rest of your life never knowing what real love and affection feels like from whoever you're attracted to. I can goddamn guarantee that straight women don't act as Andrew Tate or any "alpha male" thinks they do nor do they care about his extensive car collection bought with the money he exploited from others. I hope Andrew Tate sits and rots in prison for a very long time, and when he gets out, he's an old, irrelevant man with no way to make money and stays broke till the day they put him in the ground. We don't need more men like Andrew Tate running around and flapping his mouth, trying to send us back to the 1930's. There should be a background check for men to own a mic so we don't continue to get these professional douchebag toxic male spewing more sexist, racist, homophobic rhetoric and put it on a podcast for little boys to hear and emulate. And if you're a woman who defends Andrew Tate, I just feel sorry for you.

#andrew tate? #more like andrew taint #let him rot in prison #it should be illegal for certain men to have a podcast

[couldhavechoosensthbetter]

I've never bothered to think about Andrew Tate before in my life until his arrest, making me curious about so many supporting him even with allegation of "Human trafficking" so I watched few of his videos and stumbled on one where he said,

"Women claim to hate me but when asked why? Or how it's misogynist, they are speechless" (not in exact words but you got the point)

It's interesting because even I'll agree, I couldn't string my words together on spot but the thing is his comments like "men can cheat with multiple partners but a women can't or it's immoral" or " if i have responsibility over her, then i must have a degree of authority" or even better " you can't be responsible for something that doesn't listen to you. You can't be responsible for a dog that doesn't obey you, or a child if it doesn't obey you, or a women that doesn't obey you"

Being a women, it's mad hilarious rather than enraging.

A living proof that a guy can also fall under "Toxic feminist" label as easily based on his general way he addresses women, though it makes me feel a sort of melancholic fondness for him on the other side,

He sounds lonely and disappointed with women, and feels like the obligation of a relationship with a women is purely a responsibility which he's humouring only for his "needs" in return of taking responsibility of her "needs"

So he wants authority over them, because how else would you feel a child arguing with you all the time when it's your responsibility to take care of them and you clearly don't have emotional attachment good enough.

You'd want them to obey if they want your care (physical, materialistic etc), Like I'm not saying everyone would feel that way but you can't deny, some would and will agree and it's alright. Just imagine having to take care of your nephew who always mess your room when they visit every month.

He's a guy who have no idea what in the world it is to love, all his relationship advice and stuff is for "Friends with benefit" or very casual dating, and may i add 'only for his needs and his partners benefit' because he's a hot shot, he's got money and influence and safety so what else could a girl want!?!

His fault is to categorise all women in this category, to spread his experience as if everyone who want to treat women as responsible adult in the world is a fool, people who are deprived of good relationship or have been heartbroken and haven't moved on are most prone and he's feeding off that, "see, this is what happens. You are like this because you're to blame to think she'd want anything from you except money or your face and if you provide it then it's your reward to have authority over her"

Like, a pretty good time a failed relationship comes from personal flaw that's not endearing after the high of relationship fades for either of the partner which is mostly rectifiable but it's okay, we are young and make mistakes and sometimes you truly don't deserve it because your partner was the one who used you as a rebound or played with your feelings and that's on them and their consciousness,

Let's just forget about Andrew Tate, let's talk about you and how you are dealing with it.

Are you really gonna give up on goodness just because of one of many bad experience in your life, if that's the case then you'd better not say or comment "not all men" when someone is sharing their experience because then you are being a hypocrite.

I'm not saying all women are angels or not make mistakes or always accept their mistakes, or only want book fairytale from relationship but not all women just like not every man is an entitled asshole or assaults with an emotional built-in of 3 months old.

If you're doing relationship for money and looks and in return treating or getting treated as easily replaceable or not worth understanding and communicating and are fine with it then understandable and you do you if it works for you,

But if you come around claiming that this is how world works and there's nothing like deep respectful relationship then kindly pull your ass out of your rectum and consider a cozy therapy with all the money you don't know where to spend or talk to your friends and open yourself to understanding,

We are humans with instinct and critical thinking, use them wisely depending on situation and don't flinch away from taking responsibility.

I'll conclude with saying that in my opinion, the reason why so many couldn't answer why he's wrong in saying that is because, we know this is true to some extent but generalizing it like only your experience matters is where the problem starts, you are free to not believe in love but you don't have to call it fake.

Hence, ladies and gentlemen,

"Not all men"

"Not all women"

PS: if you disagree with me it's alright, you may let me know and we can have a healthy conversation that may give me more insight and correct my ignorance (that's why I'm sharing my thoughts) but don't come with b.s whining, you may scroll past.

#personal opinion #andrew tate #not all men #not all women #chivalry is not dead #constructive criticism is welcomed #feminist #this was longer than i anticipated #relationship

[selfcareparker]

Omg thank god you weren't like: OMG NO WAY THATS GROSS YOU ARE A KID!!! They are still a kid too😭😭 I think it gets weird when it's like a 21 year old dating a 17 year old, and super weird and gross when it's someone in their 20s dating a 40 year old, or like how men say: "thank god she's 18 now" THAT'S SO GROSS

Yes omg my friend’s brother (who was 22 at the time) kept texting me and asking me out when I was 17 and I just kept thinking, can’t you find someone your age? And that’s not even the worst age gap like you said there’s people where the age gap is 20 years +++.

Those men are either gross and can’t date anyone their age because the women see all the red flags and simply don’t want to date him. or those men are sexist and only like women when they’re young and are brainwashed by media that expects women to simply... not age?? Like when women are only seen as desirable when they’re young 🙃🙃

#again i can’t speak today but i hope you get what i mean sksjsj #the only exception is young women dating old men so they can get his money when he dies 🥰

[dykefight]

I want to share some of the experiences of my loved ones and myself that started leading me to radical feminism

One of my best friends (currently a 19 year old college student) used to have an onlyfans and currently sells underwear online. She says that the most humiliating moments of her life happened on onlyfans and similar websites. She had guys ask things like would she have sex with her brother, could she cry on camera, or if she would piss herself for them. There were two men she encountered that still make me sick to think about. The worst one was a man who regularly paid for videos of her pretending like she was being raped by him without a condom. She would beg for him to stop, not to impregnate her, and she cried and screamed. She was not allowed to get any pleasure from it or she wouldn’t get paid. The man only found pleasure in the idea of a teenage girl being traumatized and abused. The other man paid her to dominate him over the phone. He wanted her to control every aspect of his life. He was nearly 30 at the time while she was 18. The worst part of this ordeal was that they knew each other from when she was around twelve or thirteen. During this time I watched her mental health rapidly decline. Her poor mental health ended up causing her to quit less than a year after starting her account. Now she sells underwear and the conditions are no better. She’s been asked to sell worn underwear, underwear she’s pissed in, underwear with her period blood in it, and underwear she’s worn while masturbating. She has been masturbating so frequently that her skin over her clit has begun peeling. The idea that this is empowering her as a woman makes me sick. It’s basically a form of self harm. Anytime I mention that she might need to slow down she explodes, ranting about how she loves doing it, how it’s good money, and that it’s her choice. No woman should be brainwashed into that mindset.

Two of my other friends have been coerced by their boyfriends into sex that they didn’t want. One of them was guilt tripped into having anal sex by her boyfriend. She didn’t want to have sex until marriage, which he already knew prior. She said he looked so disappointed that she felt like she had to let him do anal. She also said this was easily one of the most painful experiences of her life. She ended up being pressured into vaginal sex only a few weeks later. Another friend was VERY adamant about saving any kind of sex until marriage. Her boyfriend pretended like this was totally fine until around a year into their relationship. He starting persuading her into giving him handjobs and blowjobs, insisting that they were meaningless acts and no big deal. She complied but still wouldn’t let him do anything sexual to her. Eventually he got impatient and decided to touch her while she was asleep on a school trip. She admits to being scarred from this, but insists that he didn’t mean any harm and that he wouldn’t do it again. In March, they were at a party together and had a fight. My friend is known for being a lightweight. While she was furious and drunk, her boyfriend was barely tipsy. He apparently decided that the best way for her to get over it was to push her into a room and have sex even though she was fully unable to consent. At some point, someone walked into the room, saw them, and told everyone at the party about it, including complete strangers. People still bring it up to her like it’s some funny story. Neither of my friends see anything wrong with their boyfriends or their actions. I, along with mutual friends, have tried to bring it up but they insist that it was a one time thing, their boyfriends didn’t know any better, and that we’re being over dramatic. It hurts me to know that they’re just one of many girls who dismiss sexual assault just because they’ve never been told what is wrong in a sexual relationship.

My mom was raped by my father while they were dating. My mom was raised in a very religious family so she saw premarital sex as one of the ultimate sins. She was okay with everything except penetrative sex. At some point, they were naked together and he saw that as an invitation. She froze up and couldn’t bring herself to stop him. That was how she lost her virginity. It wasn’t until she told me that she realized he raped her and that was only because I told her. She didn’t know she was raped until over 30 years later. She said she always thought she asked for it since she was naked around him and let him get close enough for it. She didn’t know that there are multiple types of rape until much later in life, so she never connected the dots. If she had known, she might’ve been able to save herself from the abusive marriage that followed.

Speaking of my mother and her marriage, she was also taught that getting a divorce was a sin in the eyes of god, especially if the wife initiates it. My mom couldn’t bring herself to divorce him in the beginning and then once she had kids she couldn’t divorce him until she made sure he wouldn’t get joint custody of us. She suffered through 35 years of abuse all because of some bullshit she had forced upon her since she was young. My grandma on my moms side experienced the same thing and wouldn’t divorce my grandfather who cheated on her and had a child with another woman.

These last ones are my own personal experiences. I, like many women, have faced sexual assault multiple times. The first time was when I was 12 and sexually assaulted by my long time family friend who was 15. He was best friends with my cousin who I am very close to so he also became a friend of mine. We also went to the same school. One day the three of us were at my cousins house and I was sharing a blanket with the friend. Under the blanket, he began to brush his hand along my ass which I thought was an accident since we were on a small couch sharing a blanket meant for one person. It soon escalated to him grabbing my ass under my jeans and through my underwear and then cupping my boobs. This was all while my cousin sat five feet away. When I finally got the courage to get out I got a text from the guy begging me not to tell my cousin. It took me nearly a month to tell my family and the school. My family said they would cut all contact with his family and the school said they would make sure I never had to be around him in a school setting. However, almost immediately, my family went back to being friends with his family and my school went back on their promise. Even though the guy confessed and I had the texts as evidence, he faced no real repercussions. Another guy continually harassed me over the course of our freshman, sophomore, and junior year. He’d do things like grab me, slap my ass, stick his hand down my uniform, grind against me during class while I was bent over, and he always found new ways to contact me after being blocked. When I finally told a teacher mid junior year, the way the school “punished” him was by having his football coach talk to him. This is the same football coach that’s known to indirectly slut shame girls in front of everyone. The guys behavior towards me didn’t change so I just gave up. I was never taken seriously when these incidents came to light. Everyone just assumed it was something to brush off. That it’d go away after a gentle scolding. Even my peers who say they’re all about protecting and defending women basically responded with “that sucks” and moved on.

I turned to radical feminism because it’s given me a place to be heard. I can speak my mind. Even if someone doesn’t agree with me, they’ll have a civilized discussion or simply move on rather than start an argument.

#and there’s more obviously #radfem #terf safe #terfs do touch #gender critical #terfs please interact #radical feminism #drop the t #lgb #long post #sorry #mine

[tiarnanabhfainni]

i wrote another fic about generational trauma and the winchesters, this time featuring deadbeat mom extraordinaire mary née campbell, displacement, emigration, the american wake and just really missing your mom.

gonna quickly tag a few mutuals who might be interested but also you can find the fic under the cut

@uhuraha @myaimistrue @nonsensegnomes

American Wake

On a mild summer’s day in 1950, a wedding took place in Normal, Illinois. Dressed in a simple white dress that she had inherited from her mother, Millie Walsh looked up at the man who was to be her husband in daze of transcendent happiness. She had good reason to be besotted. His name was Henry Winchester and he was a dashing young academic of the supernatural with a fascinating air of mystery that surrounded him. They had met the previous year when he had come to her home in New York on a fact-finding mission. Millie fell in love after only two minutes of conversation.

With such a buoyant adoration to carry her through, Millie was perfectly happy to relocate to a state far from her family and friends to build a new life with charming debonair Henry. She knew about the supernatural elements of his life. How could she not? But it was a trade she was perfectly willing to make for the opportunity to create a family with him.

And she paid dearly for that decision. Millie lost a husband and was left to raise her four year old son alone.

It was all entirely avoidable of course. The Winchester name was not her inheritance by birth. No Cupid had ever marked her name for Henry. It was by no means a match made in heaven. If not for love, Millie could have lived a life completely divorced from the less-than-natural.

After her husband’s disappearance her heart hardened and she abandoned the Winchester name and any association with the supernatural. Packing her bags for Kansas, she returned instead to the ways of her own people. For Millie’s family had a long history of leaving their pasts behind them.

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Millie’s maternal line can be traced back to a small town in Limerick, Ireland now known by the name of Patrickswell. The farm where her grandmother was reared would likely have been a fair few miles from the town itself but it’s difficult to be precise about these things since many of the records of the era were destroyed in an explosion during the Civil War of the 1920’s.

Bridget Ó Laochdha lived in a hard place surrounded by tough people. There was no work in the surrounding towns and villages and her family was forced to eke out a living on rented land. Most of the local community spoke little to no English and spent most of their day-to-day lives conversing and working through the medium of the Irish language.

The Ó Laochdha family was no exception to this rule. Bridget - as the sole member of the family with more than a rudimentary grasp on the foreign tongue - had been translating for her father at the market for most of her young life.

The rugged countryside that surrounded them was austere and beautiful but there was darkness around every corner. Violence engulfed the region as the Land War raged around them. The threat of eviction was a constant sword of Damocles over their heads and the precarity of the political situation left a permanent mark on Bridget’s development.

Bridget loved her family, of course she did. She loved the language she spoke with them and the easy rhythm of her life. But she knew that there was a brighter future out there somewhere on the other side of an ocean. Somewhere she wouldn’t hear constant news of Whiteboys, Invincibles and their clashes with the police. Somewhere that was safer, where she might get a job and support her family from afar. All she needed was the means to get there.

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Mary idolises her dad when she’s young as children are prone to do. Her family are heroes who straddle the line between the known and the unknown and keep the world safe from the evil lurking in the shadows.

As a teenager, she joins the family business and she’s a natural. She excels particularly at getting information out of young witnesses. She sits amongst small groups of girls, nodding along to conversations about music, miniskirts and make-up and nudging the topic of discussion slowly around to the subject of her father’s latest hunt. Mary’s good with the guys too, she finds that a well-placed laugh or look can get her most of what she needs.

But intel is not the only area where she excels. Mary’s a sharpshooter and she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty. Hand her a shovel and she can dig a grave just as fast as the boys. She even knows the best technique for washing blood off her hands.

She’s on a path to be one of the best in the business. And she hates it.

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Although many people left Ireland to try their luck in the United States in those days, it was still a difficult path to tread. Tickets to get to New York were expensive and hard to come by. Buying a ticket at the harbour was as likely to get you scammed as to get you a place on the boat.

Bridget was fortunate in that her local parish priest was looking to sponsor a few young hopefuls on the trip across the Atlantic and offered her a place. That decision might have been the hardest any in her family had ever had to make. To leave behind everything she knew and understood for the small chance that her life could be better. She made that choice nonetheless.

The tradition of The American Wake was one that dated back to the famine years in Ireland to mourn the departure of a loved one to that far off place across the ocean. There would be no real way to send letters home consistently and economic conditions meant that the emigrants would likely never be able to return home. What do you do when you are setting up to grieve someone who is still alive? You hold a funeral.

On Bridget’s last day in Limerick she cried until her tear ducts ran dry. She sat in the centre of the room and listened to the keening women wail around her. Her father could not speak his sadness but he stood beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder, bowing his head in silent prayer. Her mother held her face in her hands and whispered one last goodbye.

Yet amidst all of the tears and the heartache, a sense of relief made its way into Bridget’s bones and settled in her spine. There was death and loss but a future there too. A brand new life in a brand new land. And while they’d never say it, her family was relieved too, she could see it in their eyes. This was one less mouth to feed, one less person to clothe. The money she will send home in remittances would lighten her father’s load by a considerable degree.

As she boarded the boat in Cobh, she stared at the ticket clutched tightly in her hand and thought not of what it had taken from her but of the life it stood to grant her.

---------------------------------

When Mary meets John for that second date outside his mother’s house, she knows that this is it. That he is her ticket out.

She clutches his body in her lap and cries and she doesn’t know what to do. With death and destruction all around her, Mary makes the only choice she can.

Deanna’s body still lies abandoned on the kitchen tiles. But isn't it better, in a way, that she never had to face her daughter leaving her behind?

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The first impression America made on Bridget was not a positive one. No sooner than she arrived at Ellis Island, did they take the last vestiges of her home away from her. Bridget Leahy took her first step onto foreign soil without even her name to console her.

Her first job in New York was that of a kitchen worker in a large airy home in the employ of a family belonging to the upper echelons of East Coast society. Her hours were long and her fingers near scrubbed to the bone. Since her food and board were covered, every penny that she earned was sent home to Patrickswell.

While her English had served her well in local markets of Limerick, she found that they were quite inadequate here among native speakers. She sat around the table in the servants’ quarters with the others who worked in the home and listened as conversations happened all around her. They all spoke so fast and the topic of conversation switched so quickly that she couldn't quite keep track. Bridget simply did not have the vocabulary to contribute and so she stopped speaking entirely.

The longing for home was like a physical wound lodged just under her ribs and sometimes she wondered how she continued to breathe through the pain.

The only times that she could recognise herself was on her rare evenings off when she made her way down to the local Irish dance hall. There she could allow young men from Inchicore, Kilrush and Listowel to spin her around a room to the music of home and forget where she was for just a few hours.

--------------------------------------

It is impossible to overemphasise how little the role of a housewife suits Mary Winchester. The sundresses feel awkward on her form and the kitchen still feels like a foreign land.

The other mothers in the neighbourhood all seem to speak the same language as they switch tracks fluently between complaining good-naturedly about their husbands and swapping recipe cards. Mary has never felt more out of place.

She doesn’t know where she fits or how to contribute. The loss of her mother is like a crater in her chest and she doesn’t know where to lay down all of the grief she holds in her hands. She thinks she would be better at holding her children without it.

When it all gets too much, she sheds the skin of Mary Winchester and leaves her small family behind to retrace the Campbell path. She might not be able to get her family back but she can pretend to be home for just a small while when on a hunt.

-----------------------------------

In a small catholic church on an intersection, Bridget Leahy married Mick Walsh of Tyrone in a small, private ceremony. As a married woman, she left the world of employment behind and started the task of homemaking in their small Manhattan apartment. She did her best to keep the rooms aired out and clean but the grime of the city was ever present.

When she looked out of the window and saw grey dusty streets she couldn't help but compare the view to green fields and the fresh air of the Limerick countryside. Her husband worked in construction, building monuments of steel to the sky that looked towards an American future while she remained stuck in an Irish past.

When Bridget’s pregnancy first became obvious to the couple, they were delighted. This was their chance to build something of their own on American soil. A family.

When her waters broke, the women of the neighbourhood rushed into her room to oversee the birth and refused to let her husband in so he could hold her hand.

In another life maybe Bridget stayed at home and married a local boy in Patrickswell. Maybe she gave birth at home next to her parents’ fireplace with all of the women of her family around her and her mother stroking her hair.

Maybe she was destined to die in childbirth no matter where she was but at least at home the last voice in her ears would have been in a tongue that was her own.

-------------------------------

Just like Millie Winchester née Walsh before her, Mary Winchester let the supernatural into her home in a desperate grab for the life that she wanted to build.

And just like her mother-in-law before her, a demon crashed through the walls and destroyed every semblance of a family that she had found.

#spn #mary winchester #i can make up backstories for all the grandmothers in spn just you watch #ill do something for the milligans next (not really) #anyway seriously to my mutuals no pressure if you don't like it #it posessed me to write it but i couldn't tell you if it was good or not #also i had to pare my writing down for the dean one bc i know next to nothing about coal mining in kansas #and i was trying to mask that #while i know just enough to be annoying here #emmigrationnatural

[jenonctcity]

Differences - Masterlist

An NCT Dream 00-Line Bad Boy Series.

Featuring Chenle and Jisung.

Will contain Smut, Fluff, Angst. 

Some of these stories are very dark and contain some triggering material. Each part that has any triggers will have a warning at the beginning of each part. If it offends/triggers you, then do not read. 

The individual stories of four young men who each have one thing in common. They are struggling with life. Not that they’d like to admit it to anyone though. With one struggling with his inner demons of mental health while making money through doing illegal street races. One a drug dealer who refuses to let anyone in emotionally, struggling with his own addictions and habits. One a struggling young father who finds it hard to balance his social life and being a good father to his infant daughter. And the other one struggling to keep off of the law enforcements radar which is easier said than done when you have raging anger issues and earn your money through illegal underground fights. They each have their own story to tell, and cope through difference methods. How will they balance love on top of everything else they are going through?

Huang Renjun - Renjun loved to fuck. It’s as simple as that. He became almost addicted to sex and got too in over his head. Renjun also loved to lie, not that he was proud of it, but lying got him what he wanted most, sex. Sex and lies led to the birth of his daughter, Jiyeon, when he had only just turned 19 years old. He’s no longer with her mother but plays a big part in his daughters’ life, taking care of her as much as he can between stealing cars and living a less than honourable life. He struggled to balance his social life and his daughter, meaning when he met the new girl who moved in across the hall, lies automatically spilled out his mouth. How does he cope with keeping up his criminal life and his lies, all while trying to be a good father and boyfriend?

My Responsibility:

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Epilogue

Extras:

Chenle and Jisung babysit Jiyeon.

Renjun finds out who Jihyo is dating.

Lee Jeno - Jeno had a rough start to life. He was raised in a poor family with an abusive father and depressed mother. To let off some steam and make some money to support himself, he took up underground street fights at the age of 15. And he was really fucking good at it. Finally his father pushed him too far one night and at the age of 18 Jeno did what he’d wanted to do since before he could even remember, and he beat up his dad until his face was almost unrecognisable. He was sentenced to a year in prison for his crime, but he thought it was worth it and doesn’t regret it. Now fresh out of prison, he’s back in the underground fighting scene and adjusting to life on the outside without having to worry about his father for the first time in his life. He meets someone who mixes up his life once more, and she wants to change him for the better. Does he change for the women he sees in his future or is he too far gone?

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Extras:

Minjun finds out about Jeno’s past.

Jeno finds out who his son is dating.

Lee Haechan - Donghyuck was raised in a wealthy household. His parents gave him all the love and affection he could have ever wanted, and he got everything he ever desired. Except one day something happened to make him rebel. He moved out and started to make his own money, even if it meant living a life of crime to do so. He dropped his actual name and started going by Haechan, and soon he was the most sought after drug dealer in the local area. He had everything, except empathy and the ability to let people in emotionally. After finding a girl being harassed down an alleyway, he helps her out, must to her despise. He finally met the female version of himself, and they begin a fuck buddy relationship. But soon she gets bored, wanting more than the sex Haechan constantly wants. When he catches her doing something to make him jealous, he does something he didn't ever think he’d do. 

My Addiction:

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Extras: 

Coming Soon...

Na Jaemin - Having been raised by his grandmother since birth, Jaemin could count the amount of times he’d seen his mother on one hand. He got mixed in with the wrong crowd, and was taught how to drive by an older friend of his when he was only 14 years old. He soon found a love in illegal street races, earning his money from them and finding it as an escape from the wallowing depression he has floating around his head. He moved out of his grandmothers house but continues to visit her a lot due to her old age and his love for her, he also pays to have a carer go to hers daily to take care of her. He receives a call from a nurse one day to tell him his grandmother has had a fall, and when he arrives he’s met with the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He finds himself timing his visits so that he gets to meet with the nurse more often than not. They fall in love dangerously fast and it comes crashing down onto them. Can they recover from it? 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Extras: 

Jaemin tries to fill the hole left in his heart.

Social Media Au’s:

Twitter Accounts

#im so hyped i had to make a moodboard #lee jeno #huang renjun #na jaemin #lee donghyuck #haechan #00 line #nct 00 line #nct 00 line smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct angst #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct series #nct dream series

[justalarryblog]

💮give and take by @sky_reid (1k) | Explicit

sometimes louis just needs.

💮One for Luck by @leavingonatrain (96k) | Explicit

The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles’ deep, deep voice, he’s just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he’s officially back on Great Britain’s Olympic team. He’s also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there’s a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life’s grand.

(AU: Louis and Harry are professional riders on the British Olympic team.)

💮Am I More Than You Bargained For Yet? by @afangirlfantasy (45k) | Mature

“It sounds to me like the people you’ve allowed to be a part of your life, don’t deserve even a fraction of a minute of it.” As they repeat over and over, Harry calls out to fate and destiny, asking them why that can’t be true? Why can’t Harry be deserving of love? Why can’t Harry be as special as Louis argues he is? Louis’ beliefs ring in Harry’s mind like the most hopeful of gospels, and Harry wants to proclaim them as his new religion. But when his hands reach out into the vast emptiness of his flat to grab them, to grab Louis, there’s only a shard of a memory to clutch onto.

Or

AU where Harry doesn’t know what it means to be in love, and Louis’ still in love with somebody else.

💮I Cannot Dream Tonight Series by @afangirlfantasy (50k) | Not Rated

At 16 years old, everyone takes a compatibility test on their birthday. At some point after taking the test, and along with other data collected, everyone finds out if they are a Dom or Sub.

At 17 years old, everyone receives a bracelet that notifies them when they have been matched. Every Dom needs a Sub. Every Sub needs a Dom.

When Louis’ bracelet lights up weeks after getting it, let’s just say that who he is matched with, is not quite what he had been expecting.

💮Birds in Gilded Cages by @graveyardwitch (157k) | Mature

There is a hotel in London where beautiful young men and women are kept like birds in a gilded cage, prisoners bound to satisfy your deepest darkest desires….

After being kidnapped as a teenager, Harry Styles was forced into high-class prostitution by the evil Mr Cowell. Louis Tomlinson is heir to his father’s corporation, set to inherit millions…But engaged to a woman he doesn’t love and deeply unhappy. When they meet at a party sparks fly and they embark on a passionate and dangerous relationship…But can it ever be true love when one of you is being paid? And can Louis ever rescue Harry from The Bird Cage Hotel?

Warning-This story is about prostitution so there will be a LOT of sex. I do not own One Direction etc etc. I do ship Larry but I don’t care if it’s real or not, I just like reading and writing the fanfic.

💮Don’t Waste Your Time On Me, You’re Already The Voice Inside My Head by @afangirlfantasy (28k) | Not Rated

At 16 years old, everyone takes a compatibility test on their birthday. At some point after taking the test, and along with other data collected, everyone finds out if they are a Dom or Sub.

At 17 years old, everyone receives a bracelet that notifies them when they have been matched. Every Dom needs a Sub. Every Sub needs a Dom.

When Louis’ bracelet lights up weeks after getting it, let’s just say that who he is matched with, is not quite what he had been expecting.

💮driving instructor fic by @LoadedGunn (104k) | Explicit

AU where Louis is a 25-year-old driving instructor and Harry is a 17-year-old virgin who’s really awful at seduction, except for the time he gets Louis to fall for him and fuck him senseless and take him on kinky adventures.

💮His Submission Series by tonystankyall (orphan_account) (152k) | Mature

Louis Tomlinson lives in a world where Domination and Submission is a norm. When you are born you are either branded Sub or Dom. Subs get a little pink or blue, depeneding on gender, series of swirls on the back of their neck. Doms get Red or Black, depending on gender, series of swirls on the back of their neck.

Louis Tomlinson was branded with a Blue tattoo and his day has finally come. The day of his 18th birthday where he will be randomly assigned a Dom. This dom could range from younger to older, poorer to richer, and male to female. You never knew what you were going to get. Some Doms were more harsher and stricter than others. Louis didn’t want a harsh Dom to submit to.

Harry Styles was branded with a Black tattoo and he just recieved in the mail that he was finally getting a submissive. Harry was a 32 year old man, settled in, and very very rich. He’s been waiting for an assigned submissive to be chosen for him for a very long time. His Dom friend, Zayn, has gotten his submissive two years prior, a little spit fire irish boy, Niall.

*The rest is in the note*

💮Loving You Is Free by @littlelouishiccups (91k) | Explicit

Louis is a workaholic record label CEO who hasn’t been on a date in nearly a year. Niall and Liam make an account for him on a sugar dating website as a joke. And then Louis meets Harry.

💮sex shop fic (dildornado ‘verse) by @istajmaal, @LoadedGunn (96k) | Explicit

AU where Louis is the most helpful sex shop salesperson in the history of sex shops, and Harry really was just looking for a vibrator with simple instructions (yet ended up getting a hands-on demonstration).

💮Dance Floor Whore by @ropewithnoanchor (7k) | Explicit

Louis and Harry go to a club while on tour to blow off some steam, but Harry gets too drunk and lets another man dance up on him in front of everyone. Louis takes him back to their hotel and spends the next morning punishing Harry, making Harry work to make it up to him.

💮Hold On To The Words You Spoke (Anchored Down In The Throat) by @justletmegohome (13k) | Explicit

“No, no. Louis, just stop. It’s not stupid, it’s never stupid. Believe it or not, I care. I care so much. Do you honestly think I’d still have my dick in your ass if I didn’t?”

Louis chuckles at that, but it’s sad, Harry notes it’s not right. “That will change when I tell you.”

“Never.” Harry kisses every bit of his face he can reach, he has no idea how that can help but he’s going to do it anyways.

“I don’t like the way I sound. ’S all,” Louis says in one breath, going coy as soon as he’s done speaking, his eyes casting downwards.

For a moment, Harry can’t believe his ears. Or the words Louis just said even if he can see them hanging in the air between them. Harry is not even sure if he listened He doesn’t want to believe them, maybe that’s why he’s having a hard time coming up with his own words.

*** Basically, Louis is loud. And then he isn’t. Harry ties him up to find out why. ***

💮I’m Tired Of Using Technology, I Need You Right In Front Of Me by @Phillipa19 (6k) | Explicit

Louis goes away on yet another business trip, but when he stops calling Harry to check in, Harry decides to take matters into his own hands.

OR- Louis is Harry’s sugardaddy who has gone away on business and Harry feels neglected. Louis is possessive and gets a camera installed in their bedroom so he can check up on Harry, so Harry decides to use the camera to his advantage.

💮leave you drowning until you reach for my hand by orphan_account (16k) | Explicit

If Louis told him to do something that he really didn’t want to do, it would be different, but Louis’s never done that, never asked anything of Harry that he couldn’t handle. Except—except maybe this; to obey him without praise, reward, approval, or even mere acknowledgement.

💮Push You Over The Edge (So I Can Pull You Back) by orphan_account (16k) | Explicit

It’s after a long two weeks of interviews and non-stop appearances that have got Harry stressed to the limit of yanking his hair out and throwing a fit and crying that Louis shows it to him, walks in the door with a sleek black bag in his left hand and inconspicuous brown one in his right.

💮smile in slow motion by @istajmaal (24k) | Explicit

“It’s 2011, Niall. People can fuck their friends’ faces without it meaning anything more than that.”

or, Louis is Harry’s dom and maybe also his soulmate.

💮sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me by @moonlightlouis (4k) | Not Rated

harry’s been a naughty boy and needs to be punished and louis is there to do it

💮Sweet Dreams by @dormant_bender (5k) | Explicit

When fantasies become reality.

💮To Be Loved To Be In Love by @Angel_Dust (129k) | Mature

At 18, every Sub must take a Match Test to find their Dom.

Poor, Farm kid Louis Tomlinson is matched with Rich, Businessman Harry Styles.

Or, where Harry thinks giving Money, expensive presents and luxuries proves how much you love someone, but Louis is about to turn his world upside down.

✨You can also check My Fic Tags for more fics! ✨

[juliettalfacharlie]

Day 4, alt: Visiting a Grave

CW graphic death, gun violence, suicide, acceptance of death, and drugs.

The previous two years, she'd shaken with emotion. First with anger, then grief. Anniversaries weren't necessarily special dates; they weren't anything she looked forward to or dreaded, but it was still jarring to realize how much time had passed. She'd experienced a minute of disbelief when she first recognized it'd been a year since her wife was with her.

It was customary in the Earth Kingdom to show respect only towards elders. When parents lost their children, no vigils were held, for it wasn't acceptable to honour those your junior.

It was a practice that thankfully hadn't taken roots in Republic City. Kya wouldn't have cared, regardless. She was hurting, damnit, and that wasn't lessoned because Lin was three years younger than she.

Now, 1,095 days past her lover's death, Kya was finally in a place of peace. Not with Lin's killer, or the circumstances surrounding it. She didn't believe she'd ever accept that.

The two had been walking out to their car after an evening dinner, and Lin sensed an altercation a block away. Kya sat in the Satomobile while Lin cautiously neared, concerned over a potential mugging or assault. It hadn't felt like anything serious, especially compared to what both women had already seen.

Lin used her seismic sense when she'd crossed half the distance, seeing two figures. One was pressed against the wall, the target, while the other stood in front of them, the instigator.

She treaded as quietly as possible, peeking around the corner to assess the situation.

There were two men, both tall and muscular. The assailant held something Lin originally believed to be a small baton, but as it caught light from the streetlamps, Lin saw it was a handgun. They weren't exceedingly common, due to being new inventions that were quite costly, but the amount of nonbenders in Republic City meant they were more concentrated here compared to other nations.

Lin desperately wished for her old spool of cables, but she'd retired them fifteen years prior, and they'd been gifted to the top metalbending prospect at the time of her departure.

The weapon was pointed at the victim, so any surprise attack risked him firing. She instead went for a civil approach, calling from behind the corner, "Step away and put your weapon down." she instructed, hearing his loud gasp.

"Who's there? Don't come close or I'll shoot!" the attacker yelled. His voice was strained, likely from fear.

"You haven't done anything yet, kid. Just set the gun on the floor, and we can talk about it." she replied, using a tone of placating authority. She displayed power without intimidation; the other man was acting on pure emotions, he needed to feel like he had an ally.

"I don't want to talk. That's not going to do shit to bring back my brother." he said, and Lin heard a head hit the concrete wall.

"Killing someone else won't either. It's also not going to make you feel the pain any less. The only thing it'll accomplish is ending your own life as well." she told him, voice softening just slightly. One constant in life would always be violence, and there would always be people hurt by it. Lin stepped around the corner, hands up in submission.

The gunman yelped, swinging the weapon towards her. "Hey, I know you! You're a cop!" he said, and Lin had a full view of his face. He was young; not boyishly so, but somewhere in his early 20's.

"I'm not an officer anymore, but the experience I have means I know exactly how this can end up. I don't want to see that happen to you; there's so much left to experience." she told him, calm under his pressure.

His hands trembled just so, eyes full of pain. "There would have been if it weren't for him!" he yelled, turning his head to the other man.

His face was bloody but he looked otherwise unharmed. "It's not my fault the idiot overdosed, I just gave him the shit." he argued, and the young man clenched more firmly around the gun.

Lin intervened quickly, taking attention off of the loudmouthed dealer, "I know what it's like to lose a sibling. My younger sister. My mom took her side, so it felt like I was entirely alone, but I found joy in my job. In my hobbies and friends. It made that pain feel much more manageable, and I couldn't be happier right now." she explained, eyes not straying from his face.

"I don't have any of that. I just had him." he said, shaking his head.

"For a long time I didn't either. I held onto my anger for decades, and it prevented me from fully enjoying myself. I don't want that to happen to someone else," she told him, "It wasn't until I was 52, actually, until I let that go. I didn't get closure, and the people who hurt me never apologized, but I saw how much harm it had done to me. Shortly after, I started talking to the woman I came to marry. She's the best person I know; beautiful, kind, insightful, she brought out the best parts in me, and I found myself wanting to be happy for her.

"If it's too difficult to feel joy with yourself, would you pity an old woman and feel it for me? I promise you, this hopelessness isn't permanent." Lin said, watching as the man slowly relaxed his grip and lowered the weapon.

"How about you start by telling me about him, hm?" she encouraged. He kept the weapon up, pointed at her knee, but his shoulders had dropped.

"His name was Mingyu. I was eight when he was born, and I was so excited. We didn't have a lot of money, and mom and dad were always working, so I had to look after him instead of going to school.

"I taught him what I had learned, and he was so smart. I got a job to make sure he could go to school when he turned 6. He was so good at kuai ball.

"We lost our dad this year, and Yu took it so hard. I was too busy with my job to see it, but he at school he started- why didn't I just-" the man finally lowered the gun, eyes welling up.

"Kids make mistakes. It's not your fault that Mingyu slipped." Lin told him, taking a cautious step forward.

The man didn't respond, so she continued to close the distance.

Lin straightened, feeling the distinct thud of metal-soled boots. The police had been called before she showed up.

"Hey, give me the gun and we can keep talking." She urged, and he looked up at her, startled by her change in tone.

"RCPD, hands where I can see them!" an officer behind her bellowed. Lin felt a pit open in her stomach, watching the emotions flash across the man's face.

In a moment the gun was back up, four feet away and aimed right between her eyes. "You lied to me!" he shouted, and pulled the trigger.

Kya had heard the shot, and immediately she knew what had happened. She felt a tug in her soul, similar to the feeling when her mother passed, and she sat in the passengers seat for hours, unable to move.

The man who murdered Lin was only 22. His name was Han. He ended up receiving life in prison for killing the former police chief, compared to the 30 he would have gotten if he killed the drug dealer, but he instead hanged himself in his holding cell. He was survived solely by his mother, and Kya deeply pitied her, but it was because of her son that she was now a widow.

It was unbelievable to imagine Lin losing her life there, in the alleyway fifteen years retired from the police force, instead of the dozen times she'd been severely injured, or the hundreds where she'd faced worse danger. Kya forgot, sometimes, in the beginning. She'd return to the empty house and think Lin must be in the backyard, or wake up in a cold bed expecting the smell of Lin's favoured morning tea, tieguanyin, to have permeated upstairs.

Kya had been so achingly raw with pain. She'd felt nothing like it before, where the jagged edges of her grief made her lash out instead, but for months she hated Lin for having left her. Spirits damn her noble nature.

After five months the wounds finally soothed, but she'd been terribly surprised to feel its return when she visited Lin's grave a year past her demise.

She then felt guilt over her reaction; Lin had told her countless times how Kya had "saved" her. Shown her love, and helped her realize to be cared for wasn't negative. Kya wished so desperately just to speak to her once more. To thank her for all that she gave, and ensure Lin knew how deeply she'd been loved.

The second anniversary was when she felt sorrow, but in the past year she'd received news that wasn't altogether bad. It made the third occurrence pass with far less grief.

Kya had been experiencing chest pains and severe shortness of breath. From her own diagnosis, she surmised her heart was giving out, but a healer in the city confirmed it with ease. There wasn't too much surprise given her age, approaching 84, her lifestyle, not always the healthiest, and the compounding emotional experiences she'd weathered.  While she'd never looked forward to death, she found that she was ready for it whenever the time came.

It was almost freeing, sitting in front of Lin's grave without the cloud of overwhelming emotion. She didn't visit her final resting place except for this anniversary, as she'd been buried in the Beifong family's tomb all the way in the Earth Kingdom. Lin had been rigid on tradition that way, even if Toph insisted against it and Su planned to start her own in Zaofu. Kya had only wanted to honour her wishes; being with her mortal body didn't give her a particular sense of closeness. She sensed Lin at random moments regardless of her location, which had been one hint she hadn't yet chosen reincarnation. Her spirit had remained hidden despite thorough searching in the Spirit World, but Kya knew she was only waiting for Kya's time.

And with it nearing, for the first time she faced the gilded headstone with a glimmer of hope.

#kyalin #lin beifong #kya lok #cw mental health #in honour of the Qingming Festival #why did i write so much these were supposed to be like 300 words each #angstpril

[sopxhiea]

Mischief

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie hears that his deceased friend’s sister is gone wild so he decides to pay her a visit after years of not seeing the young woman but he has no idea what he’s in for.

“Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.”

The music loudly boomed through the long corridors of the house. It was a three story place with freshly painted window frames. The exterior wooden part that coated the glass inside was blue, something that clearly stood out in the crummy streets of Camden. It almost seemed like an intentional move to make this particular house stand out.

The color had been chosen by you.

Exactly two weeks ago, you found it hard to identify the very house you lived in. It might’ve been because you were slightly drunk every time you came home but either way, you needed something that would make the apartment easier to identify. So you had purchased some paint and did it on your own while the neighbouring residents were reminded of their distaste regarding the group of young women who happen to live right next door.

Although, the distaste mostly concerns you.

Your body moves inside the large room. It has canvases and your paints in it, things that you treasure that reminded you of the young girl you once were, when things were easier and you didn’t carry a lump on your throat.

The long street you live on knows you for mostly being up to no good. Sometimes with a young lad on your arm and other times, you on your own while you dance your way through the night with a bottle of whiskey on one hand. They certainly do not like you.

The music fills the concrete walls, the sound waves apparent on the mug you had placed on the floor while your feet tap against the hard surface. Your body moves, almost a little too seductively and particularly for no one. There is nobody else in the room, just you and your cherished albums while your body gently sways to the music.

You don’t hear him knock.

There’s a little part of you that manages to hold on to the past you so badly wish to forget, so you dance. You don’t want to remember the reassuring touches and the feeling of getting caught in the possibly of something happening with the one person your brother had warned you about.

He was six feet under, anyway.

Your housemates are out to have look at a new dress shop. You had no interest to stare at cheap dresses, only to come home empty handed so you’d stayed home where you knew there was endless comfort.

All he can hear is the sound of loud music filling the tall apartment and the soft thuds of your feet against the floor as you dance your way through the empty evening. 

He knocks once more, almost breaking the metal door.

Your movements halt then, fully stopping once you hear someone’s rather loud shouts. The voice is vaguely familiar but it happens to be in a box you’d pushed to the very back of your mind. From a time where you knew no happiness.

The high bun you had now rests against the soft skin of your neck, a few pieces falling around your small face as they frame your curious eyes. Your face is flushed and it looks like you’d been making out with someone, not dancing around on your own. Your dress swishes around your knees as you walk, ready to show the soft skin of your upper thighs at any moment you wish.

You lick your lips before walking towards the door and opening it in one swift motion, the music track no longer plays.

A fraction taller than you’d last seen him, there Alfie stands.

His hair is in its usual place, little pieces sticking out after he’s taken his hat off. He’s still broad, seemingly a little more built than the last time you’d seen the bloke but his face is the same. His scruff is neater now, he doesn’t seem to have aged if you decide to ignore the little creases around his blue orbs.

A scoff leaves your lips.

Your dead brother’s best friend, the bloke he had gone to war with and the one that came back alone with his captain’s hat on his hand, apologising to you because your beloved brother had been shot one too many times stands on your doorstep.

Your heaving chest is not what he expects to see. You look like you were in the middle of a good fuck when you open the door, dress still in place although your eyes a little more wider than the last time he’d seen you. You were grown now and even prettier than the image of you in his mind, he thinks. You look like a proper young lady, except for the way you greet him.

With a scoff.

Your lips curve into a playful smirk and you let your body lean against the doorframe. Your eyes are challenging him to speak, to let you know why he’s there but he’s too focused on the way you look. He doesn’t remember you being this dreamy.

Three years.

Three years since your brother had died. Three years since the bloke before you had kissed you under the dim light of the vanilla scented candle. Three years since you’d moved from your old apartment and started a life on your own, where no one knew of you or your family. Three years since you’d promised yourself that things would be better.

And they had been, up until now.

Your definition of better didn’t match its commonly used meaning. Better meant safe, calm and the bearer of good things at the time but it was different now. You went out whenever you wanted, slept with whoever you wanted and made your own money, enough to spoil yourself with some goodies every now and then.

But apparently, that didn’t match the definition of a better life for most people.

He had checked up on you, sometimes by using his men and other times, it was him driving past your house in the middle of the night to make sure you’d returned. You received two bouquets from the bloke, one on your brother’s death anniversary and the other on your birthday.

You spoke before you could register your own thoughts, a habit you’d picked up from your time around the local bars. “Solomons.”

The taste of his name was sweet on your lips, he listened to the breathy sound of the woman he often saw in his dreams.

But your reputation had preceded you already.

You were known for the late nights you spent around the pubs in Camden. Most men liked the show, the way you danced with a trusted partner of your own who you’d met just a week ago. You had a fire within you, a fire most men were fascinated with but only a few got to play with. Only the ones you chose.

He had been the one you wanted to choose many moons ago but the time wasn’t right then.

“Y/N.” he said, waiting for you to let him in but you stood there as he towered above you. You were still considerably smaller than him.

“What the hell are you doing on my doorstep?” you asked, your foul mouth getting the best of you while you stared at him with curious eyes. He didn’t like to hear you swear, which was exactly why you had done it.

“Came to check on you, dove.” he speaks, the pet name he had given you when you were fourteen still stung.

“That sounds like a lie.” you speak, eyes stern while they do not shy away from him. He wants to speak, to reassure you of things he’s long forgotten about but you’re fast to cut him off. He had no business being there. “Why are you really here, captain?” you ask, knowing the nickname riles him up in the worst way possible.

Before your brother had died, you had been a dear friend to Alfie. He had seen you grow up as he sprouted into a beautiful young boy himself. He was so fond of the lovely little girl you used to be, before Harry had died in the war. He had played games with you and chased the little boy who had tried to kiss you after the school dance.

But something had changed then, when he’d returned with no Harry on his side.

The anger that you’d spent many years managing was now the only face you wore. It was why you drank, it was why you slept with strangers even though they had been perfectly fine with just dating for a while, it was the fuel that kept you going. The anger you felt for your brother’s absence.

“I heard things, right..” he spoke, catching your eyes once again while you stood right before him, head held up high. “..made me fuckin’ worried about ya’.” he spoke, he hated how easy it was for you to get the truth out of him.

All you had to was to stare up at him and he was already a goner.

You nodded, unimpressed while you walked inside the apartment and he followed you like a lost puppy. This was how things used to be, he thought. You lead him through the long corridor into the living room. It was decorated in a minimal manner, a flower vase here and a frame there.

He still remembered, he thought while looking at your familiar features.

How you’d come back with rosy cheeks and glistening orbs that one summer. You’d grown up then, became a young lady that had just about anyone’s heart if you were to flash your sickening smile. He remembered how shy you were then, finding it hard to act like kids around Alfie even though you were both young in age still.

“Say...” you spoke, almost a soft order while he tried to get the vivid images of you from his clouded mind. “What have you heard?” you smirked at your own words, he was already weak at heart.

“Just a couple kids, yeah, sayin’ something about you and a bloke from Sabini’s men..” he said, tugging at his beard while he watched you. You remembered the Italian, he had been quite pleasant.

“And?” you spoke, walking from the living room to the room you had been previously dancing in. 

He was sure you had been fucking someone earlier and the air was dense inside the room due to the small ritual of dancing you had been doing. He wasted no time and asked what was in his mind. He didn’t beat around the bush.

“Do you have a fuckin’ lad in ‘ere?” he spoke, voice booming through all the stories of the apartment while you clicked your tongue, ears ringing with his loud voice.

“Why do you care?” you ask, eyes searching his while he tries his best to be subtle. A shrug is all he gets while you start speaking again. He had missed this, he thinks.

He cares, you see it in his eyes but a small nod is all you give him before you speak.

“What about the Italian bloke?” you ask, moving around the room to gather a few things in your hand while he watches you. You don’t bother covering up, your reputation as the girl who’ll open her legs is already out there anyway and you’re not the one to shy away from someone who’s known you since you were twelve.

“You can’t see him no more, dove.” he spoke, your eyebrows furrowing in an instant. He was giving you no rational reason.

So the game began.

You swayed your hips while walking towards him, using your natural charisma while he watched you. You were the predator walking to get ahold of its prey, although it was the opposite when it came to most people who dealt with Alfie. He was the predator but no, not with you.

He watched, almost hypnotised while your seductive voice filled his ears. Your soft fingers brushed through his beard, lips ghosting over his while his eyes fluttered slowly. He was lost in your voice, the addictive smell of your scent and the way you caressed his face to realise that you were just toying with him.

“Why, dear?” you spoke into his ear, hands still on his beard while he found it almost impossible to keep his eyes open. “You want me all to yourself?” there was a hint of mockery in your tone but laced with layers of pure filth. He sensed it still.

Yes, he wanted to say.

He had wanted you to himself for a long time now. Long before the war and the damage it had done on the both of you. That summer was the first time he’d seen you look so beautiful, you had become the owner of his heart then, no longer his best mate’s sister. 

He hadn’t done anything in the years that followed. He had a couple opportunities, here and there when he could’ve just kissed you and fuck the consequences but there was too much at risk. Harry was his best mate and even though he knew Harry would be more than willing to have his sister be with someone he trusted than a stranger, Alfie didn’t have the heart to do it.

He wished he had.

He growled quietly which manages to earn a light chuckle from your lips. You retreated from his embrace then, walking to the far end of the room while Alfie looked at you with dark eyes. It was the kind of eyes you were used to seeing in man you toyed around with, but not Alfie.

You had become reckless.

You were careless of what people called you, they called women whatever they wanted anyway so it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You were truly doing whatever it was that you wanted and living your own life with the rules you had set for yourself and if society was to shame you for it, that was just too bad but you couldn’t find it in yourself to give a damn.

“Is he dangerous, then?” you asked, like you weren’t just about to kiss Alfie a second ago. He took a minute to gather himself after you’d seduced him with one move but you were quick on your feet, too used to the game of push and pull.

“He might harm ya’. Can’t have that happening.” he spoke, clearly worried and for a second, he saw something shift between your orbs but it was too fast for anyone to catch on other than Alfie. 

“Shame.” you spoke, still gathering a couple brushes here and there to clean them later and he watched. You had been painting since you were small and it made him feel somewhat comforted that you still stuck to it. “He was kind of annoying anyway.” you spoke with a light hearted chuckle while Alfie looked at you.

There was the little girl he knew, and the captor of his old heart.

He chuckled at your sudden lively state. He knew your anger was always kept at bay so he cherished your happy moments, the kind of moments where he’d see your smile reach your eyes. They were rare but he’d make do. 

His voice was hoarse, thick even when he talked from the doorstep of the room. “Ya’ call every man that, dove.” he spoke, years of memories biting back while he looked at him with a devilish smirk, hands on your hips while you batted your eyelashes at him. Your voice was soft, totally the opposite of what he sounded like as you spoke.

“Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.”

He chuckled at first but saw the hint of sorrow in your eyes long after your words stopped hanging around in the cold air around you. He gulped while you walked past him and made your way into the kitchen through the corridor and the worried bloke he was, he followed.

While you filled some cups with hot water and tried to find some tea bags for your beloved guest to drink, he saw the frantic side of you take over. Your movements were still calculated and you put up a good front but he knew you too well. He still didn’t say anything.

“Any sweet lady you’re seeing?” you asked, knowing damn well he wasn’t seeing anyone.

For one, he was too busy to seek someone out since he didn’t get out of his damn office. He was a charmer for sure and even though there had been many ladies in the past, he always ended up with them curled around his side while he wished they were you.

He shook his head and spoke, his voice was low.

“Nah.” he took the cup and a small sip from the tea not too long after. “Too fuckin’ busy.”

He was keen on asking you, he knew you sometimes saw more than one lad at a time and even though it was unusual, he wasn’t the one to judge you. But the word got around either way, he hated that it did.

He thought that you were trying every bloke in the city but it was a matter of you finding the right one, if that existed.

“You owe me a new bloke.” you spoke after taking a small sip from the cup, lips plump while he watched the pink flesh move with your words. “You took away the Italian.”

He chuckled then, smiled at your adorable state with a warm look thrown your way and you returned the gentle gesture. You let him put his hand on the small of your back while you walked him out. This was the usual interaction anyway, it didn’t get far from this.

He wanted to take you out, to show you a proper time and have you in his arm for as long as you wanted to be wrapped in his embrace. He had wanted that for a long time, since he had become a young man but he knew it came with too much baggage.

He wasn’t that reckless, but he needed to be.

“How ‘bout I take the pretty lil’ lass out?” he asked, in one swift breath while you watched lights flicker against his features. His words earned a chuckle from you.

You gulped once, not out of anxiety but anticipation. He watched you under the late night and all its wonders and saw the wheels in your head turn. He needed you to say yes.

And so you nodded. You smiled and nodded while he returned to his original position, where he was standing on your doorstep and towering above you. Your hand reached to grab the collar of his white shirt and toyed with it while you spoke, the seductive voice coming in handy again.

“Don’t toy with me, Solomons.” you spoke and this time, unlike all the previous times your sweet voice had reached his ears, you were dead serious.

It was a forbidden fruit situation.

It didn’t matter that your brother was dead, this had been the game that you were playing with the jewish bloke. He’d tease and you’d tease harder, your pushes were angry but needy, it was a thin line in which he was walking on right now.

“I ain’t love, it’s about time, innit?” he spoke , finally acknowledging years of built up tension.

You sized him up with your eyes then. You didn’t know if he’d be able to take the teasing you usually did with the other men you went out with, they couldn’t either and they’d be spent up by the end of the night but it was different when it was someone you knew, someone who deeply knew you as well.

“It seems as though you haven’t heard all the things they have been saying about me.” you spoke, voice low as you stared at his blue orbs. You knew all the emotions that swam in there.

He had heard all of it, he just pretended that he hadn’t.

Bitch, whore, careless, grieving little thing, poor kid......They called you many names and some of them were true. Alfie didn’t care. He was a killer, a figure of forced authority in most people’s eyes so he saw you as his equal if anything.

“I have, yeah, don’t make a fuckin’ difference to me, dove.” he said, head shaking at his own words while he watched your eyes shift.

Your shining orbs met his, then. Not as the careless young woman you’d become but as the little girl he once knew. There was still innocence in you but there was too much hurt that laced it so no one was able to reach it. But he saw it, the way your eyes shifted from guarded to light hearted.

“Fine.” you gulped, you’d close the door on him when you were done talking and he’s just stand there for a second. 

“Give me a call.”

---------

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog

#alfie #alfie solomons #tom hardy imagine #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons peaky blinders #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons scenario #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons series #alfie solomons ssmut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x shelby!reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons tom hardy #alfie solomons angst #tom hardy #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders alfie #peaky blinders scenario #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinders fluff #tom hardy alfie #tom hardy smut

[sunlightandsuffering]

LMFAO THE HALLOWEEN MUMMY ONE 😭 eren spends a bit more time and thinks ‘about that proposal tho 👀’

Mikasa acclimates to the twenty first century alright, or at least she thinks she does. Sometimes Eren seems less than thrilled but she thinks she's doing an okay job for a mummy.

She finds she likes life here in this strange new world, likes life with Eren actually. He's an archeologist and on the side he steals things he tells her very brazenly, he's good at knowing what kind of art is real and what is fake. So he makes good money spotting the difference and selling paintings and what not to various art dealers around the world.

He lives in a nice apartment and Mikasa sleeps in his guest bedroom, all is good. He cooks for her, introduces her to his friends as someone from work specializing in ancient Egypt and she's happy. Well happy except for the fact that he's still never responded to her marriage proposal. Especially since it's becoming clear that other women are after him. In ancient Egypt the idea of men having several wives was not uncommon and Mikasa had been resigned to this fact, even excited about it, it meant whichever man she ended up with would not be paying attention to her alone. This was a good thing because there was a high possibility she could get married to an older man of nobility.

But in this century it seems this is not common at all and Mikasa likes It that way. Because her eyes are set on Eren and she wants him to only look at her.

In ancient Egypt sex was a common part of her life, though she was still a virgin after getting sick at such a young age, never officially married off due to her ill health, it was a common part of life. And Mikasa wanted to finally try it... with Eren.

So she'd taken to the modern styles of this world like a fish to water, and she far preferred the more revealing clothes to the ones covering her modesty, where was the fun in that.

Sometimes he'd come home scandalized at her attire, but it was as close to ancient Egypt as she could get, a purple wrap skirt with a matching crop top that just barely covered her boobs, it made her feel at home.

She decides that she must confront Eren about their marriage again, she needs an answer, should she go searching for another possible suitor? Would that be acceptable? "Eren?" She asks as he putters around the kitchen to make her dinner, taking care of her like always because she's a several hundred year old mummy with no concept of the world.

"Yea pretty girl?" She loves when he calls her that it makes her feel so loved. "You have still not responded to my proposal of marriage, is it to your liking, is it something you would consider?" She asks tentatively.

Eren drops the bag of bread he'd been holding to turn to her eyes wide and face pale. "You were serious about that?" She nods aggressively, hair bouncing with her, "Yes, please consider it but if I am rejected I will search for other suitors." "You know you don't have to get married Mikasa, we can just like hang out." She looks at him curiously, "Hang out?" "Yeah like what we've been doing, you just go about your life." "But what about marriage, we should engage in sexual intercourse soon no? I do not want my fertile window to close, I would like to bear you many children if you would have me Eren Yeager."

Eren just drops the bag of bread all together this time, coughing a little bit. He still hasn't said anything and Mikasa squirms under his gaze ,maybe he doesn't want children with her? She feels sad at this thought but explains herself further, "Children were very important in Egypt, I would bless you with many Eren Yeager, I will birth you many boys if that is what you desire. "

It is times like these when she reverts back to his full name, she feels It more appropriate.

Eren awkwardly takes a seat down next to her, patting her knee gently.

"Mikasa I don't want kids."

At this assertion her face falls and she feels sad, she is useless to him then, she will have to find another man of his rank to wed.

She must look like she's about to get up because Eren stops her, holding his arms out, "C'mere Mikasa."

She goes willingly, she's learned she likes it there in Eren's arms, she feels warm and safe.

"I don't want kids just yet at least, and in my time we shouldn't really have kids for at least another few years we're still so young." She nods forlornly into his neck, hiding herself from his gaze, she'd thought she was old by Egyptian standards, and now to find out this is the height of youth at twenty two.

He strokes her hair lovingly, "Mika you're very pretty, and you're very sweet," he tilts her head back looking down at her lovingly, "I'll marry you some day, I promise okay? But for now let's start with dating okay?"

"What is dating?"

He kisses her forehead, "It's kind of like what we've been doing, we hangout and we take care of each other, spend time together before we decide if we want to marry." Mikasa nods thoughtfully, "Do we engage in sexual intercourse during this 'dating'?" Eren looks like he swallowed a worm. "Umm sometimes." She nods excitedly, perking up, "Then I think we should start immediately!"

"Really?" He seems to be warming up to the idea and Mikasa can't help her enthusiasm, finally she's well enough to partake in sexual acts!

She nods, "We should start very soon Eren, very soon," she gets lost in his eyes as she leans in closer.

He moves her around on his lap a little so she's straddling him, his cheeks red and eyes a little dark and his face inching closer, "Yeah?" She nods, her breath picking up slightly, "Yeah, Eren sexual intercourse was very important in ancient Egypt." He's nodding, his lips inching closer, closer, they're nose to nose as she steals his breath. "My sisters used to make fun of me for still being pure, it was very uncommon not to engage in intercourse." His lips reach hers, soft and warm their faces pressing together as he gives her just the slightest of kisses before murmuring into her lips, "Well we can't have that can we pretty girl?"

She shakes her head, moaning a soft needy "No," into his mouth before he takes her for all she is, slipping his tongue inside and kissing her like she's everything.

#lys's drabbles

[donnabroadway]

Sprinkle, sprinkle

I can't even hate on the "sprinkle, sprinkle" lady, she checks the boxes for the next Youtube star, she is conventionally attractive, has a catch phrase, and she tells a subset of people what they want to hear and that's always a combination to get to the social media. I fell down her rabbit hole this week thanks to TikTok and she's a female Kevin Samuels. I can't hate the grift. It may be a bit unrealistic, but it is still a grift.

No matter what the grifters online try to tell you, you will always bring something to the table. It may not be a career, cooking skills, or cleaning skills, but you are always bringing something to the table. It may be youth, good looks, a nice body, an ego boost, sexual prowess, or even the ability to take abuse or let him cheat in peace but no man is going to let you live in his house, rent free, not pay any bills, not cook, not clean, not take care of the kids, not contribute to the household, simply because you look good. Get rid of the delusion. It's the same logic that sugar babies who realize there is an expiration date to being a sugar baby, or sex worker, and want to get out the game by selling "course" or building up a roster of girls and being a madam of sorts. No man is simply going to pay for your company. Now, it may evolve into that but more than likely, it started as sex work or a transaction. I am not shaming sex workers or 304s, get it how you live, but let's not lie.

There was a phrase that was popular in the early 2000s, and still is privately since dating young girls became frowned upon, and that is "one turns 18 every day," which means you, as someone who depends on being young, beautiful, and having a nice body as a way to make a living, have shelter, and to eat, your time is very short. If Leonardo Dicaprio retires them by 25, what does that mean for you? The age men describe as "hitting the hall" is 35, so, if you're lucky, you have 17 years before you become old, I would probably say between 7-10. This is why women in that life try to get pregnant or married, even if it ends in divorce, to secure some sort of bag.

Another rabbit hole I fell into this week was that of Betty Broderick. She shot her ex husband and his mistress/new wife in their home in 1989 and was convicted in 1992 and has been in jail since. She is the ultimate cautionary tale of holding down a man, supporting him and the household while he built his career, working multiple jobs and even putting herself into debt to allow him to build a multimillion dollar a year business only for him to leave her for his secretary that couldn't even type. It was the fact that Dan, like so many men, discard their wives, the ones who held them down while they built a nice life and career, with so little regard or even a thank you, is what drove Betty mad. Not saying she was right or that he or Linda deserved it, but I understand. A little extreme but I get it. So if women who were proverbially shooting in the gym, get discarded everyday for younger models, what makes you, someone who admittedly brings nothing to the table except a little "sprinkle, sprinkle" different.

I often see women say get life insurance, start a business, stack money for a rainy day, all great advice but many stay at home girlfriends, moms, wives, concubines, sugar babies, often leave out the part where they touch very little actual money. Their man pays the bills and gives them a credit card where they can buy whatever they want but they rarely have access to accounts, sometimes they do, but it's rare. Depending on anyone to live, even if it's parents, a spouse, the government is a bad idea. The amount of lawyers and women who get online and tell horror stories about the post divorce lives of former stay at home wives, mothers, girlfriends, etc is insurmountable and the amount of people who argue that those stories are one offs and it will never happen and even if it does, they have legal protection. Okay. There are millions of women who will never see a child support or alimony check, or men, who will unfortunately, put their exes in the ground before paying a dime to "her." I see spouses arguing about the sacrifices "we" made and how HIS career is "ours." Okay. Not hating, but what happens when he decides that his career is "his" and you were just along for the ride. What happens when he declares that he became successful on his own and none of the sacrifices you, or anyone else, made on his behalf mattered? Or even worse, decides he, or she, is unhappy with their life and career and starts telling everyone how they were used by their family and friends as a cash cow. It happens to first loves, ex wives, ex girlfriends, and families all the time. They are good enough to work the field but not reap the benefits on said harvest. It is what it is. There are millions of women right now "shooting with him in the gym" that will never reap the benefits of her sacrifice. She will never live in the big house in the nice neighborhood, drive the fancy car, be a stay at home mom/wife, attend the fancy events as arm candy, or be a lady of leisure. She will eventually be traded in for a newer model. Sacrifices be damned. So, I ask again, Ms. Sprinkle Sprinkle what do you bring to the table besides good looks and a tight body?

[some-jw-things]

For me personally, one of the hardest aspects of leaving a cult was how it fucked up my perception of love.

“Love-bombing” is a recruitment technique. You walk in through that door for the first time, and the entire congregation can’t wait to greet you and befriend you and they’re sometimes actually counting every minute they spend speaking to you so they can log it in their service report. You are offered instant love from a whole new community, for seemingly nothing, just for being there. Not earned, not gradual. Everyone in a Kingdom Hall loves one another

There were brothers and sisters I had never spoken to directly and that I didn’t know the names of. I was told since I was born that I should be willing to give my life and die for any one of them, no exceptions whatsoever. You aren’t allowed to dislike or openly have any issues with anyone in the congregation because of this specifically.

And then on top of this, we’re taught that only Jehovah’s Witnesses have love among themselves. There’s approximately 20 Bible verses they use to back this, they talk about the moral atrocities of every other religion as proof but of course the Society has never had a scandal ever— at least not one we were told about, and with the “don’t read outside sources” doctrine, they can get away with anything. They can get away with painting themselves as the only true, pure, morally upright religion in existence

When I said I was leaving, my dad told me straight up that I would never experience love again in my life. Only Jehovah’s Witnesses has that.

I know it’s easier to explain and more relatable for worldly people when we talk about the sky burning in Armageddon, friends and family falling and dying by our sides, going underground to live in a bunker and hide from the government, facing permanent eternal death— all those things that the Society has promised us, and we can point to and say they’re terrifying. It’s easy. It’s understandable.

The part that’s harder to explain is that I’ve expected my whole life that I’ll die young but the idea of living completely alone and unloved for however much longer I have— that kept me in a lot longer than the other stuff did. It’s a very effective control mechanism, being told that no one will ever genuinely care for you outside of this group

And then there’s the shit that Witnesses do to family relationships

At varying points in time, I have been fully convinced that the only things keeping my mother from leaving my dad were the congregation punishments and financial concerns. It’s a bit like their marriage came straight out of the 1940s: divorce is a sin, would get them disfellowshipped, and my mom doesn’t have the money to live on her own even if she could. My dad doesn’t do any of the housework whatsoever— all of that gets pushed to his wife and children. My mother blames herself for this, because apparently it’s her fault for “spoiling” him when he got badly injured twenty years ago. My dad, being the head of the household, has the final authority on any of our decisions he chooses to involve himself in, despite knowing almost nothing about what’s going on with us at any given time. The disparity of the housework wouldn’t be so bad, but my parents both work full time, not just my dad.

A few years back, my sister and I were in an extended period of anger over this. We weren’t outright trying to convince mom to leave dad (her main defense being that she was getting older and she had made her choice years ago), but it came damn close. My sister asked mom to name three things she loved about dad.

A half hour later, she didn’t have any.

She loves my dad, in the way a Christian wife loves her Christian husband. She couldn’t name any specific way, but she insists she does. She will never leave him.

They love each other. I know this. I don’t understand it.

I was terrified by the idea of marriage since I was eight years old. For Jehovah’s Witnesses, marriage is in no way between equals. I’ve gotten in trouble for implying that men and women could be equal. Marriage under this system means an even bigger loss of autonomy than I already had. The JW idealized loving relationship looks like hell to me

I said earlier that I was going to talk about familial love but I got sidetracked by romance, I’m coming back to it now

Familial love is completely 100% conditional. A JW will receive love if and only if they adhere to a strict set of terms. Upon violation of the terms, all love will be immediately revoked.

When a Jehovah’s Witness leaves the religion, their friends and family are supposed to shun them. No contact whatsoever, through any medium. If the ex-JW is an adult, they’re supposed to be kicked out of the house. If they’re still a minor, they are allowed to continue living there and communication is allowed only as far as it is needed for household functioning

This is love for Jehovah’s Witnesses. It is instant, enduring, boundless, to the extent of being willing to give your life for one another within seconds of finding out someone is a fellow brother or sister.

Until you commit a sin. Sinning makes you unlovable, here.

A girl I grew up with was kicked out, homeless, not even given time to pack a bag, because she fell in love with a worldly boy and interfaith dating is not allowed. This had nothing to do with any sexual sin. The boy just wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness, and that was enough.

There was a man who left the congregation years back, along with his wife. He contacted his mother a few years later and wanted her to meet his kids. He wanted them to spend at least one day together. She told him very bluntly that she wanted nothing to do with him or his family anymore. She relayed this story in service, and everyone comforted her and told her how strong she was, how proud Jehovah must be.

Romantic love is bound up in rigid rules. You do not sit next to someone of a different gender unless you’re engaged or close to it. You don’t go on dates without a chaperone, you don’t spend even a minute alone without a chaperone. Texting and dating have a blurred line, so that needs to be policed. If you date for over a year, then you’re leading that person on. You’re a spinster or a bachelor by age 25. Divorce is a sin. Divorce will get you disfellowshipped.

There was a woman in my congregation who went to Bethel and met a man there. They knew each other for two weeks before getting engaged. And divorce is a disfellowshipping offense. There were so many older couples in my congregation who had stories like that, who had dated for only a handful of months, and I guess they love each other like my parents love each other

We’re told that disfellowshipping is a loving arrangement. Shunning is an expression of love. It’s spiritual rock bottom: it’s meant to be the wake up call that makes you realize how badly you need God and the Org. It’s meant to be incentive to repent, start following all the rules again, and beg for reinstatement. You want to see your loved ones again, don’t you? And they want to see you. That’s why they’re doing this, see, because they love you and care about you.

In the cult, love is used almost exclusively to hurt people.

#ex jw #ex cult #apostate #ex jehovah’s witness #christianity #religion #exjw

[chronicbatfictioner]

"Overall, it wasn't so bad..." Tim commented.

"Except for the fact that Bane roared like a constipated bear and literally lunged at Damian and Jason threw him out the window..." Barbara quipped, her face serious but her lips were still twitching. "I... am highly amused. Twice."

"You were laughing until you bent over double that if you weren't in a wheelchair, you've probably knelt on the floor laughing." Dinah deadpanned. "It was hilarious."

"Yes, it was. The fact that Jason could actually lift Bane and throw him out... Did you guys see Bruce's face, though! Oh my god! He... he looked at Jason as if he'd seen the lord savior Jésus Todd or something!" Tim crowed. "Like, the dude Bane got thrown out a bay window twice. I get the awe, I was a little star-struck myself. But I can't believe dude actually wanted to try the third time until Alfred pointed a damn shotgun to his forehead! I can't even!"

"This thus solidifies my thoughts that the Waynes may be trying to figure out a way to get rid of this... brute without... I dunno..." Barbara pondered.

"Gotten themselves broken in half?" Tim suggested. "He sure insinuated that he would do such a thing to Damian."

"Oh, gee, Tim. Which part of his speech insinuated that? 'You lying bastard!', or 'I'll break you in halves!'?"

"I'm partial to the 'bastard' remark, really. I mean, pot, kettle?" Tim replied, giggling.

"Technically," Helena Bertinelli - The Huntress - sighed as she chimed in; "and ironically, at that; the 'bastard' would be Bane since he claimed to be Thomas Wayne's son and is younger than Bruce. Which means he was 'conceived' while Dr Thomas was already married to Mrs Wayne..."

"Right? Bruce and Talia were two consenting adults, albeit under 20 years old; and were wed in a local ritual witnessed by locals, according to Jason. You should see Bane's face when Jason presented copies of the marriage's registry." Tim continued.

"Oh, we saw, all right. Harper's drones worked quite well." Dinah replied, snickering, referring to Harper Row, one of their tech 'consultants'. "Even at that height, it still delivered crystal clear pictures. I vote we use them again."

"No vote needed, the drones are on stand-by at the Wayne Manor permanently at this point. I'm more interested in his reaction when Damian offered them a DNA test." Barbara told her.

"I'm more interested in Bruce Wayne's reaction, really. He didn't seem too surprised, as if he was expecting this to happen or something." Helena pointed out.

"Maybe he did," Barbara replied absently. "Dude has been swingin' more than the roarin' 50s, there has got to be some juniors out there that even he didn't know of."

"Ugh, while I'm not a fan of Bruce Wayne's womanizing ways, I personally don't think he's that reckless. He's not a drinker or a junkie, as far as I know. He has virtually no vice other than extreme sports." Helena argued.

"I agree," Selina, who has been quietly watching from the corner, chimed in. "This is a guy who got visibly antsy when some sexy girls in bikinis come up to him - I thought he was gay. But if he'd been... wedded to Talia Al Ghul all these times, that would make sense. He knew exactly where he stood, and what would come up if he screwed it up."

"Has Jason or Dick said anything of the Doc and Mama Wayne's reaction?" Helena asked.

"They seemed truly confused, a little apprehensive, but didn't seem to be opposed to the idea that Damian is Bruce's child. Dr Wayne said that a DNA test wouldn't be necessary, but Jason insisted it." Tim replied, and added a little absently a few heartbeats later. "But why would he, a physician with more specialties than a truck stop, would not question the biology of anyone claiming to be his biological descendant?"

Barbara glared at Tim, "excellent question, Tim. If my dad has someone coming out of the boonies saying he's related to me, the first thing dad would do is draw blood."

"They... don't care?" Dinah suggested. "Maybe the Wayne men were less... chaste than they appear?"

Barbara glared at her this time. "Of all the women Bruce Wayne has dated, I've only recorded a handful who would end up in a second date. Less than a handful who were actually mentioned beyond social media photos; and you know how I feel with social media photos: generic, unverifiable, and showoff-only. Dates with Bruce Wayne generally would start with the pick-up, dinner, and then some form of jewelry. I..." she looked at Selina and Helena, "you've both dated him at one point or the other."

Selina shrugged, "I went for a gala dinner, and was honestly there to scope the homeowner's safe, really. I wasn't interested in a follow-up date." she replied. "Helena?"

"Social arrangement. My people called his people and boom, we were on a red carpet." she elaborated. Helena was a part of a mafia family, until she decided that the mafia way would not be the best way to make Gotham a happy place for all, and donned the costume of the Huntress to hunt down wrongdoers. Barbara had decided to let her join to prevent her from going over the line and murder anyone out of overzealous-ness; but also in order to get a line-in into the mafia families.

"No second dates, either, huh?"

"No, I'll have to check, though. I think his people called me again, but I wasn't interested in a vapid playboy, even if he has more money than Jesus."

"Vicky Vale," Selina reminded. "She has had a... somewhat lengthy relationship with Bruce some years ago."

"Sooo... the next answer in our mystery could probably be answered by interviewing an investigative journalist." Tim commented.

"Oh, no..." Barbara grinned mischievously. "Not this investigative journalist. I know just the journalist to talk to when it comes to gossip among themselves."

Dinah snorted a laugh. "I thought you didn't like her."

"I liked Vale less," Barbara griped. "Plus, Vale is already getting news on Bruce's probable child; why shouldn't I send Lois Lane the allegations of the Bane Conspiracy?"

"Conspiracy with who?" Dinah asked curiously.

"Oh, the Waynes, of course, to get rid of the Court of Owls," Barbara smirked. "Why should we be the only ones racking our respective and collective brains when we can have someone else on the ground doing the grunt work?"

"Babs, you can be... pretty evil sometimes," Selina remarked. "I know there's got to be a reason why I like you."

"I'm also awesome with technology and can launder your ill-gotten money and make it legal and undetected." Barbara pointed out.

"Oh no, that's why I liked you." Helena quipped smirking. "Seriously, how many mob family can say their ill-gotten money is accountable by law?"

"As long as it is within the facets of the law, and so on and so forth... Anyway! Tim, you're quiet for more than two seconds. I'm always nervous when you're quiet."

"Just thinking..." Tim said, looking a little lost in his own brain. He often does that when he has at least a dozen scenarios running through his mind. Through the time of Barbara knowing him, Tim would probably be the only person whose claims of 'just thinking' wouldn't immediately be picked on by anybody.

"Care to share with the class, kitten?" Selina prompted.

"It's not fully mapped yet... but I was thinking. What if the Waynes aren't... didn't cooperate with Bane in order to destroy the Court of Owls, and they're literally being hostages in their own home? What if Bruce Wayne has predicted something like this could happen, and has gotten himself all prepared all the way to ten years ago when he wedded Talia Al Ghul? I mean, who would have had enough firepower to defeat Bane other than the Al Ghuls? Look at Jason," Tim pointed out. "He threw Bane out the window as if he was a fly. While Jason is as solid as a rock but isn't a metahuman - Bane is. He was assigned by Talia herself - out of Gotham - to protect and guide Damian-- why? What's so special about Jason Todd? Why did Talia choose him? Why didn't Bruce Wayne - at least - act shocked when Damian said he was his son? Surprised, sure. But not shocked or in denial.

"Who's gonna win if Bane turned out to be Dr Wayne's son? Who's gonna lose? What will they lose? Who is Bane accountable to? If none, who planted the idea of him being Dr Wayne's son? Because from what I've read about him, he was born and raised in a prison with his mother - no mention of a father. His mother was an insurgent of Hasaragua, fighting against US-condoned democracy. And while there was a record of Dr Wayne being there, there was no exact date and length of stay, because he was there privately and not as a part of Médecin sans Frontieres or something like that.

"What about Mrs Wayne? She wasn't a poor or uneducated woman, since she was a Kane. Society-wise, do you think she would have tolerated her husband's indiscretion, both then and now? Yet she kept quiet for nearly two months. She has a Ph.D. in psychiatry, and would she be the ones to keep quiet about DNA testing and all that? Personally, I don't think so. If my mother - a little 'lesser' society lady compared to Martha Kane-Wayne - ever got a word of a child that 'probably' got fathered by my dad, she would have demanded a divorce right away without bothering with a paternity test, sure. But my dad, who was also a society man, would have at least attempted to convince her that it was a mistake and/or it was a lie. What best method to decide a child's paternity than DNA test?

"The criminal front in general - especially the costumed criminals - has been pretty quiet since Bane eliminated the Court of Owls. Why? That's rather stupid since we know that the Court's Talons were the ones who made moves to 'discourage' the costumed freaks. Annnd... that's where I couldn't map out things further." Tim rambled.

"Keep talking, even half sentences are better than none, Timmy." Barbara prompted. Tim might have had a brain that worked a mile a minute, but he was still very young and would often get flustered with himself. Barbara, on the other hand, has an eidetic memory, and things Tim said tend to stick to her brain and would fill the gaps in any puzzles she might be thinking about. Even half sentences.

"Right, I do the fact spreads, you do the jigsaw-puzzling." Tim nodded. "The murders of Talia and Ra's Al Ghul. Jason said they were deliberately murdered in a way that they would never be able to be resurrected through the Lazarus Pit. The perpetrators would be the League of Shadows, a rogue splinter of the League of Assassins. Lead by Lady Shiva. Why? Why were they murdered? Why now and not - say - next year or last year? Who benefited by their death? Aaand... I'm done, for now, I think..."

"I... can feel a headache brewing," Dinah admitted. "You and your conspiracy theories." she rubbed Tim's head fondly. Tim gave her a half-smile, still trying to articulate the thoughts in his head.

"That's why we need him, he takes the most random input and makes a theory out of it, and some of them would actually make sense. I'll start a search string based on some of your questions. If you have more, don't hesitate to tell me, Tim." Barbara realized belatedly that her tone sounded dismissive, and turned to Tim. "Want me to call up for Chinese and powwow a little more?" she added.

Tim shook his head, still glaring blankly. "Thanks, I gotta go... I've some... things to look into. Thanks, Babs," he replied, ending it with a genuine smile as he got up.

"Want to come home with me, Kitten?" Selina asked, worry for Tim apparent on her normally-blank face.

"No, thanks, Ma. I gotta go back to the mansion, just in case, right?" Tim pointed out.

"Then Dinah should go with you," Selina decided.

"She's coming there later, right, aunt Dinah?" Tim asked. Dinah nodded.

"I'll get home with food, so don't worry about that, kiddo." she said. Tim waved them all and then walked out.

Once he was out of the door, Selina sighed. "Ah, young love..."

"Right? Remind me to check in on him before going to the House. I don't want to walk in on something and have him traumatized." Dinah agreed.

Barbara glared at them quizzically, and then at Helena, who shrugged. "Grayson said it first, I think. Our kitten is growing up. I just hope that Jason guy is worth his firsts..."

The memory of Tim gawking at Jason when he thought Barbara wasn't watching flashed in her mind.

Oh.

And then of Jason blatantly checking Tim out just before Oracle made her appearance, and at times when her Oracle projection was turned off.

"Oh boy," she sighed.

"That's about it in a nutshell. Good thing I've told him of the birds and the birds..." Selina grinned slyly.

"Millennial parenting at best, Ms Selina Kyle." Dinah grinned. "Come on, let's go patrol and induce the fear of goddesses to Gotham's low-lives before inducing maternal fear to our little kitten."

"...or to the big tabby. We'll see," Selina added, waving as she and Dinah walked out of the room.

Suddenly Barbara felt a little sorry for Jason. Just a tiny, teensy, weensy bit of sorry.

#Batless!AU #jaytim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Barbara Gordon #Selina Kyle #Helena Bertinelli #Dinah Drake #Oracle

[drivingsideways]

k-drama rec list

Prior to 2020 I’d maybe watched 2 k-dramas in my entire life, but this year I got sucked in, thanks to some great recs, and y’know, *gestures * everything.  

I think I’d held off watching kdramas because my impression of them was limited to romances that I didn’t enjoy at all. But this was the year I discovered the equivalent of “gen fic” kdrama- dramas that had wonderful ensemble casts, strong story lines that weren’t entirely romance focused and also a variety in terms of themes and styles. A big plus was that I found so many of these dramas had women leading the writers’ room, and seeing the effect of that in the story telling. (Notable exceptions: a certain “star” writer who should please stop inflicting her badly written, formulaic crap on the world, yes Kim Eun-Sook, I mean you, and whoever wrote that trashfire Flower of Evil)

So here I am with my own rec list! Caveat- these are mostly not the dramas released in 2020, I’m still playing catch up! :)

Under the cut for length

My Mister/ My Ahjussi  (2018, Written by Park Hae-Young, Directed by Kim Won-Seok, starring Lee Sun-kyun and Lee Ji-eun aka IU) 

This was definitely my absolute favourite of the shows I watched this year across western/ asian media. It’s a story about the thread that binds us all and the ineffability of human connection. It’s also a story that deconstructs ideas of masculinity and honour and shame in a non-western context, but with an extremely compassionate touch.  It’s a story that doesn’t shy away from showing the consequences of material and spiritual poverty; and how one can so easily feed into the other. It’s a love story that isn’t a romance, except that it’s a Romance. It’s about finding salvation in one another and in the kindness of strangers.  It’s about choosing life, and picking yourself up off the floor to take that one last step and then the next and then the next. The one quibble I have with the series is that it could have been better paced, it does get extremely slow after the half way mark. But god, do they land the ending. Both Lee Sun-kyun and IU turn in absolutely heartbreaking performances, and fair warning, be prepared to go through an entire box of tissues watching this series. 

Life  (2018,  written by Lee Soo-yeon  and directed by Hong Jong-chan, starring Lee Dong-wook, Cho Seung-woo, Won Jin-ah, Lee Kyu-hyung, Yoo Jae-myung and Moon So-ri.)

Medical dramas are very much not my thing, and I wouldn’t have taken a chance on it except that @michyeosseo said I should, and she was right! It’s a medical drama in the sense that it’s set in a hospital, but rather than a “case-fic” format, this is actually a sharp commentary on the corporatization of health care, and the business of mixing, well, money and what should be a fundamental human right. Writer Lee Soo-yeon was coming off the global success of Stranger/Secret Forest S1 when this aired, so I understand that expectations were probably sky-high, and people were disappointed when this show didn’t give them the adrenaline rush that they wanted. On the other hand, I thought that this outing was really much more nuanced in terms of the politics and also how the ending doesn’t allow you the luxury of easy-fixes. This show has a great ensemble cast, and while it took me a while to get used to Lee Dong-wook’s woodenness (i ended up calling him mr.cadaver after watching this and was surprised to learn that he’s very popular?), in the end I was quite sold on his version of angry angst-bucket elder-sibling Dr.Ye Jin-woo. His best scenes were with Lee Kyu-hyung who turns in a lovely, achy performance as the paraplegic Dr. Ye Seon-woo who just wants to live a normal life. The love story between the two brothers is actually the emotional backbone of the story, and I think they landed that perfectly. 

My one quibble with writer-nim is that she ended up writing in a forgettable and somewhat (for me at least) uncomfortable romance between the characters played by Won Jin-ah and Cho Seung-Woo. I think part of my uncomfortable-feeling was that I got the strong sense that the writer herself didn’t want to write this romance, it was as if she was being made to shoe-horn it in for Studio Reasons, and she basically grit her teeth and did the worst possible job of it.  I do wish we could have absolutely had the OT3 of my dreams: Moon So-ri/Cho Seung-woo/Yoo Jae-myung like, c’mon TV gods MAKE IT HAPPEN, just...look at them!!!! 

Anyway, that apart, I think this was a very engaging series, and by engaging, I also mean thirst-enabling, see below. 

 Stranger (aka Secret Forest  or Forest of Secrets) S1 & 2 : (2017-, Written by Lee Soo-yeon, directed by 

2017′s smash hit aired a much anticipated second season in 2020, and I managed to catch up just in time to watch that live, so that was thrilling :D . Writer Lee Soo-yeon  mixes up thriller/office comedy/political commentary in an ambitious series. I think S1 is more “exciting” than S2 in terms of the mystery and pacing,  but S2 is far more dense and interesting in terms of political commentary because it takes a long hard look at institutional corruption and in true writer-nim fashion doesn’t prescribe any easy solutions. Anyway, please enjoy public prosecutor Cho Seung-woo and police officer Bae Doona as partners/soulmates kicking ass and taking names in pursuit of Truth, Justice and just a goddamn peaceful meal, along with a stunningly competent ensemble cast. Also yes, Han Yeo Jin is a lesbian, sorry, I don’t make the rules. 

Search: WWW  (2019, Written by Kwon Do-Eun, directed by Jung Ji-hyun & Kwon Young-il, starring  Im Soo-jung, Lee Da-hee, Jeon Hye-jin)

GOD. Where do I start? +1000 for writer Kwon Do-Eun saying “fuck the patriarchy” in the most grandiose way possible, i.e. absolutely refusing to acknowledge that it exists. Yes, this is that power fantasy, and it’s also a fun, slice-of-life  tale about three women navigating their way through work, romance, national politics and everything in between. It’s true that I wasn’t entirely sold on the amount of time spent on the romance, and I really wish they’d actually had a textual wlw romance, though the subtext through the entire series is PRACTICALLY TEXT. But still, it maintains that veneer of plausible deniability and I think queer fans who are sick of that kind of treatment in media have a very valid grouse against the show. On the other hand, personally I felt that the queer-platonic vibe of the show is very wonderful and true to real life, and it was only reinforced by the ending. This is a show written by a woman for women (like me), and it shows. 

Hyena  (2020, Written by Kim Roo-Ri, directed by Jang Tae-yoo & Lee Chang Woo, starring  Kim Hye-soo and Ju Ji-hoon )

Those of you who’ve been watching hit zombie epic Kingdom are probably familiar with Ju Ji-hoon’s brand of sexiness already. I had not watched Kingdom and got hit in the face by Mr.Sexy McSexyPants’ turn as a brash, privileged-by-birth, up and coming lawyer who gets completely runover by the smoking hot and incredibly dangerous fellow lawyer/competitor from the other side of the tracks in the person of Kim Hye-Soo. When I say they set the room on fire, I mean it, ok. Every single scene between these two is an actual bonfire of sexual attraction and emotional hand grenades, and they’re both absolutely riveting to watch. “Flower of Evil” wishes they had what this show has- an actual grown up romance as opposed to a thirteen year old twilight fan’s idea of an adult romance. 

The “lawyer” shenanigans and the “cases” are hit or miss, and I think the occasional comedy fell flat for me. But that’s not why I mainlined like 6 episodes of this series overnight like a coke addict, and that’s not why you’re going to do it either. It’s so RARE, even in these enlightened days to find a female character like Jung Geum-ja: hard as nails, unapologetic about it, and not punished by the narrative for it. The best part for me is that she feels like a woman’s woman, not a man’s idea of what a Strong Female Character should be. Anyways, when I grow up I want to have what Kim Hye-soo has ok?

Other dramas that I watched this year, quickly rated:

The King: Eternal Monarch (3/10 and those 3 points are only for the combined goodness of second leads who deserved better- Jung Eun Chae, Woo Do Hwan and Kim Kyung Nam. Please head over to my AO3 and read my attempts to fix this garbage fire and rescue their characters from canon)

Flower of Evil (-10/100, dont @ me)

Tale of the Nine Tailed (5/10, I think it succeeds at what it set out to do, which is a light hearted, sweet fantasy-romance-melodrama, plus “second lead” Kim Beom will make you cry as the hot mess of a half human/ half fox spirit ALL TEARS character. I think if you’re into kdrama romances as a genre, this is probably a good bet?)

Signal  (7/10,  This was the first full kdrama I watched this year and would definitely recommend. It’s a police procedural with time travel shenanigans and has an engaging plot, good pacing, texture and compelling performances. My one disappointment with it was the way they wrote Kim Hye-soo’s character. As literally the only female character to survive in any way, she was given short shrift, and toward the end it really began to grate on me.)

Six Flying Dragons - (7/10, also would recommend if you’re interested in Korean historicals. It definitely already feels a bit dated in terms of styling and production values, and even scripting and acting choices. But it has a good balance of fantasy and history and political commentary. I was not a fan of Yoo In-Ah’s performance in this series, but it’s not anything that would make you want to nope out of the series. It’s GoT , if GoT was thoughtful about politics and characters and not the misogynist, racist trashfire that it became.)

My Country: The New Age - (3.5/10, and that’s 3 points to Jang Hyuk’s fan and 0.5.points to Woo Do Hwan’s heaving bosom. If you like your historical drama/fantasy with very pretty men, very gay subtext -seriously RIP to show makers who thought they could hetero it but didn’t account for Woo Do Hwan’s Tragic Face- lots of blood and tears and very nonsense plot, this is right up your alley. I probably would have enjoyed it more in other circumstances, I think? But this one just annoyed me too much at the time! 

I have a couple of more dramas to watch on my list, that’ll probably carry me over into 2021, so see ya on the other side! :D

#k-drama #kdrama rec list #2020: A YEAR #i'm a queue for you

[nightwingmyboi]

I'll always remember Devin Grayson as the woman who wrote Nightwing getting raped by a supervillain and then tried to pass it off as "wasn't rape, just nonconsensual"...which is LITERALLY THE DEFINITION OF RAPE, YOU HACK!

MSL: Male rape is a topic rarely touched on in comics. Why is it suited to bring it into Nightwing?

DEVIN GRAYSON: For the record, I’ve never used the word “rape,” I just said it was nonconsensual (I know, aren’t writers frustrating? *smiles*) [x] 

Yeah there is no other word for what happened in Nightwing #93 other than rape...I can’t imagine why she would say otherwise. She did technically apologize, but that was ten or so years later. So she eventually, finally did come out and just admit what everyone already knew, but she was still way too late to actually fix any of the damage she caused with how she completely mishandled things. I also don’t think her little apology begins to cover all the issues I have with her. 

Devin’s characterization of Dick is just so, so freaking twisted to me. Really, I don’t think there is a Nightwing writer I despise more than Devin Grayson. The interviews I’ve read from her give me the creeps:

DG: The way I think about him [Dick], he likes everyone, he’s sort of a contact junkie - just this incredibly physical (and attractive) person who lives wholly in the corporeal plane and responds with - processes things in - his body before his head or heart. I imagine that he can be hypnotized by a touch the way other people can be stopped dead in their tracks by the sight of money or the promise of true love. I think he likes kicking and kissing in almost equal measure - except kissing edges out ahead because you can do it for longer and it leads to nicer things. [x]

Yeah that’s fucking unsettling. This is Devin being gross and projecting her sexual fantasy’s onto Dick. And she very much invented this extreme view of Dick as obsessively physical. Pre-52 Dick was always written as a master strategist, an unparalleled leader, one of the best detectives in the world, outside of Devin’s writing. Her fantasy version of Dick doesn’t mesh with that...Dick wouldn’t be capable leader if he’s “thinking with his body” (whatever that means) all the time. He’s survived this long because he’s intelligent and logical. Frankly, Devin’s take on things doesn’t even make any freaking sense. But it gets worse: 

DDG: I’m writing a novel for WB right now that he’s in and I have one scene where Batman has to stop a fight before it gets out of control, and most of the people he can just yell or glare at, but with Dick, he just stands really close behind him and Dick freezes. That’s not supposed to be a sexual thing (though it is kinda hot! ::laughs::), it’s an understanding on Bruce’s part that his physical proximity will speak just as quickly and loudly to Dick as his voice, maybe even be processed faster.

What the actual fuck. You’ve probably guessed it based on how that little scenario played out. Devin ships Dick with Bruce. 

DG: And now think about being a very physical and naturally gregarious and loving person and growing up with someone like Bruce. Then add in the confusion about his status - a “ward” is something you stop being the minute you turn eighteen. Having already lost his parents and then hurling into adolescence at the speed he did...in my personal version of the story, he develops sexual desire and social anxiety about the future at the same time, and this leads to tremendous confusion, on his part, about his role in Bruce’s life. He can’t be a ward forever, in the back of his head he knows he won’t be Robin forever...what is he to this man who is at once his best friend and personal savior, personal god? “Son” is what they eventually settle on, but I think when Dick was in his late teens, the idea of “lover” must have run through his mind (which means, really, as we’ve already discussed, it ran through his body).

Wild that Dick is usually written as incredibly intelligent and emotionally cognizant (was able to puzzle out Damian’s complex motivations and needs when no one else in Damian’s life could for example) and yet Devin thinks he’s not able to sort out that he’s not supposed to make sexual advances towards his father. And by wild I mean stupid as fuck. And, just fyi, Devin goes with the version of events where Bruce took Dick in when he was eight years old! So he’s pretty fucking young when this is all happening! Just when you thought it couldn’t get more disgusting. 

Eventually, much later, Dick gets distracted by other relationships and is able to ease up enough on Bruce for Bruce to relax into his own comfort-level of kindness and affection again (once the threat of sexuality has been removed) and they carry on more or less unharmed. But the relationship remains incredibly powerful and intense for Dick, who ends up feeling apologetic, rejected, and confused on top of all the other issues we already know exist between the two of them. Dick responds to Bruce - or really I should say Batman, since that’s who his relationship is with - on every single level.

So, according to Devin, Dick views Bruce as his “personal god” and is incredibly submissive to and possessive of him. That’s why Devin’s writing is littered with scenes like this: 

Gotham Knights #17

Where Dick acts incredibly awkward and “apologetic” about dating Barbara, because of how he previously made sexual advances towards Bruce in Devin’s fantasy world. Also with Devin, Dick spends a lot of his time stuttering every time Bruce is in the room, even though he’s usually a smooth talker, very chatty, and that’s because of the supposed “intensity” of Bruce and Dick’s relationship. And then there are scenes like this: 

Gotham Knights #18

Where Dick uncharacteristically and disproportionately loses his cool at the slightest insinuation against Bruce and is reduced to an angry hot head. Dick has been noted to be incredibly level headed; he’s also famous for being a mediator among the hero community...this behavior is a complete departure from the way he would normally act under other writers. Dick’s also been one to level plenty of criticisms towards Bruce himself. This sudden personality change where Dick thinks Bruce can do no wrong, where no one can criticize Bruce in Dick’s presence without him absolutely blowing up, where he suddenly can’t control his emotions over the littlest things...it really exists primarily in Devin’s writing. It’s incredibly OOC behavior and it’s rooted in Devin’s sexual fantasies frankly. 

Devin’s writing is also where Dick, despite being incredibly dedicated and monogamous in all of his previous relationships, suddenly became a womanizer. Literally, everyone was written as wanting to get into Dick’s pants: Rose Wilson was reduced to a giddy teenager because of Dick, random women in the streets would comment on how cute Nightwing was, a mob boss’s daughter who was only 15 years old was obsessed with Dick and made advances, Dick had a one night stand with Huntress because she reminded him of Bruce, Bruce called Dick “Hunk Wonder,” Dick undressed in front of fucking Deathstroke (and there was a newspaper with “Richard Wilson” on it as a sly little wink towards the audience), psycho vigilante Tarantula is obsessed with Dick to the point of raping him, the list goes on. If you want more samplings of how freaking disgusting and sex-obsessed Devin was when it came to Dick, look no further than her gross Inheritance book, where she ships Dick with everyone from Green Arrow to Aquaman (here are some quotes if you’re a masochist). And since Dick “thinks with his body” or whatever, Devin’d write him as receptive (or very oblivious) when it comes to this attention. 

Gotham Knights #10

Nightwing (1996) #107

Another thing that made me extremely uncomfortable is how Devin would always have strangers and villains, especially older men--people who Dick very much did not know and wouldn’t appreciate being in his personal space--be all grabby with him. Please leave him alone. 

Nightwing and Huntress #2

There Dick is, “hypnotized” in place by Huntress’s touch. Kill me. It is also especially messed up that Devin suddenly turned Dick into some sexual, warm-blooded hot head at the same time as she decided to introduce him as Romani. 

Q: How could him being Romani be used to inform his characterization?

It reinforces his “otherness” where Bruce is concerned in what I think is a useful, interesting way...It also presents the opportunity for there to be a slight chip on his shoulder, which maybe speaks to his scrappiness. It also maybe gives him a slightly deeper way to relate to someone like Helena--someone who is white but other--and gives the people who love (or lust after) him a potential cultural excuse for feeling as bewitched as they sometimes do. I also just love the idea of Bruce occasionally calling him “hot blooded” just to mess with him, because Dick would of course deny being so in an extremely hot-blooded manner. [x]

Her feeding into the fetishizing of biracial individuals is just disgusting and wrong. If there’s a racist stereotype available Devin really goes out of her way to make sure she includes it in her writing huh. 

Gotham Knights #20

And Bruce being a racist jerk is not charming Devin, it’s terrible. Barbara used slurs also, and was very dismissive of Dick’s reaction to Bruce’s actions...that was also horrible. It’s awful that Dick’s own family would apparently treat him this way. Obviously, Dick isn’t the only one that Devin would write out of character. 

It’s all just so messed up to me, I can’t stand it. When I first read her comics, even when it wasn’t blatant like above, I would feel something subtly off...and once I read her interviews I can’t help but notice these horrible underlying insinuations in all of her work, in so many seemingly “innocent” scenes. There are a lot of big things she’s known for (her horrible treatment of Dick’s Romani heritage and his rape for example) but all these subtle, insidious little details that people don’t even really register...they are equally frustrating to me. Seeing sects of the fandom pick up these details (like, the idea that Dick doesn’t understand personal boundaries, the idea that he’s a hot head, the idea that he’s a womanizer, etc.) when I know a lot of it stems nearly solely from Devin’s crappy characterization and writing of Dick...it’s hard. 

Q: Further to that, if Dick is gay, what kind of guy is his type?

DG: ...Type isn’t as important as passion and opportunity. Because of his psycho-sexual makeup, the other key factor would be a sense that he means something to that other man, that his “surrender” is making that man happy, allowing him to bring pleasure to someone (as he was never allowed to do for Bruce). There’s also a sense, if I may be so bold, of needing to be “caught” and “held down” - this going back to the trauma of losing his parents...being strong and passionate and heroic and virile and loving with a woman is fantastic, he lives for that. But he lost both parents. There is also a part of him that longs to be pinned down and loved a little bit savagely and hurt just enough to reassure him that he’s alive. Man, I’m totally gonna get fired when this comes out....

Literally makes me want to barf. That is supposed to be a professional, official writer at DC. Could go on forever. 

#devin grayson #imma go vomit now #ask #nightwing #dick grayson #batman #rape #rape cw #comics #DC comics #character analysis #characterization #negative