#Don't get me wrong Jesus is more important

[thefaestolemyname]

I know this is a little sacrilegious but I think my Lord and Saviour can take a joke.

[losttranslator]

like most Christian movies risen is cheesy and biblically dubious at times and gets loads of cultural stuff wrong for the sake of being recognizable to a primarily American audience but I'll readily admit the poor roman tribune's absolute bafflement at these religious weirdos who keep talking about love and stuff has me cackling unhingedly

Like, is it sound biblical doctrine and is it historical believable? No? Is it hilarious and do I enjoy seeing this random shmuck lose his mind going through what's essentially a very disturbing psychological thriller from his pov while the disciples are overflowing with joy? You bet??

The guy is dealing with horrifyingly decomposed dead bodies trying to find the right cadaver and previously sane soldiers going crazy and dead men being spotted alive and strange supernatural phenomena and angry gods and unexplained madness and religious fanatism spreading like a contagion, and meanwhile the disciples (and Jesus) are all like HELLO BROTHER WOULD YOU LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT THE BEST NEWS EVER :D :D :D

[vaspider]

Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot.

It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.

On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.

I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"

That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.

Never.

These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.

And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.

Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.

You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.

But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.

That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.

It was 1985, 4 years after the CDC first released papers on what would eventually become known as HIV/AIDS and 7 years after the first known death from an infection from HIV-2. Reagan hadn't even said the word AIDS by the time Hudson died.

Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.

Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.

Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.

They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.

But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.

I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."

(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.

Fucker.)

But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.

I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.

But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.

The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.

That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.

The brunch gays can come, too, I guess.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Jesus, these things are going to fill my lap in another couple months. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy my college signed me up for this clinical trial, but I am starting to get a bit concerned with how massive and heavy my boobs are going to get. Like.... only a few months ago I was a C-Cup. They're already humongous..... The people at the trial make me strip in front of a bunch of pharmaceutical execs. They weigh my breasts, poke and prod them, squeeze them, crush them in vices, and sometimes they even inject huge syringes of saline right into them, one after another, making them even more swollen and huge, telling me these saline treatment are 'just part of the trial'. I think they just like filling my boobs with a gallon of saline each to see me struggle to keep my back straight.

I ask them how long the trial will go on, how many more months I need to take the breast growth pills. Like, they clearly work..... But they just tell me as long as possible to test the limits of the medicine. I try to get them to tell me how big my boobs will get and they avoid the question, telling me not to worry and enjoy them. I tell them my back hurts really bad now and they laugh. I say, 'It won't be so funny if my spine snaps and I wind up paralyzed!' The scientists and execs just shrug and tell me when my spine snaps they'll ensure I have every possible accommodation to complete my diploma. They never say 'if', they say 'when'.....

I try to tell them I don't want to wind up paralyzed, but they say it's not really a big deal and I'll be able to live a perfectly fulfilling life, that their research is what's important. I got frustrated one time and blurted out that I won't be able to feel my pussy or when guys fuck me. They told me it's a good thing, men can be as rough as they want and I won't even feel it. I guess they have a point, that's kind of nice. I said I'll miss cumming, and they told me my pussy will still cum. I might not feel it, but it'll react physically on its own and squirt if men fuck me hard enough and rub/smack my clit enough. I guess that's OK...... as long as men can still make me squirt. It'll suck not feeling it but it'll be kinda fun to watch men have their way with me.

I guess I'm really dedicated to this clinical trial after all. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having fun growing such a giant pair of boobs. Soon they'll fill my lap and probably get way bigger. They'll weigh well over 100lbs each.... I'll need help to do just about anything regardless of whether or not my poor spine gives out. But I do agree..... I think it'd be more fun if it did, plus the people running the trial seem excited for it to happen. So, I don't wanna disappoint them. Hopefully my boobs get so humongous they totally surround me..... I wonder how much saline the team running the trial will pump into them for fun after that? A whole bathtub's worth? My boobs will be so fucking swollen and impossible to budge. All I'll be will be a poor, stationary girl who'll really only exist to serve cock; what else are such monstrous breasts useful for? And the rest of me will be a playground for men to use however they see fit. At least I don't need to be able to move to do therapy sessions online once I graduate and become a psychiatrist. Maybe I'll hold in person sessions anyway and judge my patients' mental state on how harshly they treat my gigantic breasts? With any luck it'll be a revolutionary new approach other girls decide to imitate. Wouldn't that be nice? ❤️"

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[sapphsorrows]

"people only pick on trans people because they're easy targets" yeah no shit they're easy targets just like flat earthers and antivaxxers. what they believe is absolutely fucking insane when you think about it for more than 2 seconds.

the idea of trans is no different from the idea of predestination.

predestination says only those who have been chosen by god will be saved and will go to heaven. how do you know you're predestined? there is literally no way to tell externally. there is no test you take to make sure you're predestined. you just have to put your faith in jesus and know, internally, in your heart, or whatever. funny how literally everyone who believes this also happens to be one of the ~chosen ones~.

the idea of being trans is that some people are born in the wrong body. how do you know you're born in the wrong body? there is literally no external way to tell, aside from maybe a few "am I trans?" quizlets (which as we all know are 100% accurate always and only made by professionals and not 12 year old furries). you just look inside, or whatever, and somehow "know" or you decide for yourself. then, based on your own self-reporting, which you have no way to externally verify, you expect people to bend to your will and you expect society to give you special privileges that no one else gets. no other man gets to pee in the ladies' or compete in women's sports but once you self-id as trans? well, right this way "ma'am", pay no mind to the women cowering in fear of you. their rights don't matter nearly as much as your feelings. funny how damn near everyone who believes in this also happens to be trans themselves, will a few outliers.

even "gender critical" transes like mr. blaire white and ms. buck angel will talk in hours upon hours of videos about the importance of gatekeeping and protecting women's spaces, yet /they/ demand the exact same privileges as every other "fake" (in their words) trans person on tiktok. do you seriously think "fake" trans people are going to listen to you and suddenly not go into the women's? No! are you fucking kidding me? it's so much easier to tell a buck or a blaire to fuck off than it is to a delusional fetishist who will 100% either hurt you or make a scene. there is no "true trans" because EVERYONE claims to be truly trans, everyone from bruce jenner to the "IT IS MA'AM" gamestop dude.

it fucking baffles me how youtube skeptics - people i used to admire, people who taught me how to think critically about shit - will spend all damn day dunking on flat earthers and creationists but will turn a blind eye to the trans cray and will even go as far as to support them. they think they're so above it all and they can't be fooled, but they have been, and I keep waiting for them to snap out of it - just like I waited for my own family to snap out of christianity - but they haven't.

if you seriously think a dress and some hormones and plastic surgery will make a man into a woman, you're insane, and you're no more crazy than a youtuber who thinks antarctica is an ice wall or a pastor who still prays to his "sky daddy". you have no right to make fun of these people for the insane shit they believe when you believe in this nonsense. you are quite literally the pot calling the kettle black.

and if you're one of those people who's like "oh well i know they're not actually women i just call them that to avoid hurting their feelings" im sorry but you're still in this cult, you're physically in but mentally out and the only way to really get out is to call a spade a spade, admit the emperor has no clothes, admit you were fooled just like me - just like all of us - and speak out against it.

[miniwheat77]

Give 'em hell. (Captain Price x Reader.)

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY AND I WANTED TO MAKE A STORY ABOUT MY ONE TRUE LOVE, CAPTAIN PRICE. 22 TODAY, PLEASE ENJOY THIS. ALSO THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS.

!CW! NSFW, Smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pollen sex, (my bad if I missed any.)

Summary: Reader and Captain Price get exposed to a weird chemical.

Part 2.

The mission was supposed to be simple. There was a terrorist who had killed a few soldiers, they needed to be taken care of. It wasn't a capture mission, he had no valuable information. Just a piece of shit wanting to kill people. He needed to be eliminated and that's how you and your Captain ended up on the mission. You were still somewhat new to the task force, so your Captain decided he'd take you along on this mission with him. Spend some time with you, get to know you and what skills you offer to the team. It was a good opportunity for experience.

So when he was giving you support from afar with a sniper rifle and you were sneaking in real close, despite his anxiety, the only words he said to you were "Give 'em hell." You showed him exactly what you were about. Skilled on takedowns, real quiet when you needed to be. He admired you. Sometimes he wonders what he did to form such a good team. Especially a team that seemed to get along and work together so well. When the compound he had watched you disappear into went silent, no sirens, no gunfire, nothing. He knew you had done the job. He slung his sniper around his shoulder and began the hike down the rocky hill to get to the building. Concerned by your silence. "Captain, you're going to want to see this." His heart started to beat a little harder in his chest after hearing his radio go off. He moves faster down the hill being careful not to fall, he didn't need any more old man jokes from Gaz.

He searches through the buildings and when he finds you, he finds you in a lab. "What's so important Y/N?" He asks. You pick up a paper, looking over it before nodding your head for him to follow you. Inside, there are massive vats of some kind of liquid. "What the hell is it?" He asks. "Some kind of.. weird sex drug." You laugh. "Some form of torture I guess." Captain Price looks at you concerned. "The bloody hell is wrong with these people?" He’s eyeing everything around him.

"You got me on that one." You laugh. "So.. How is it used as a form of torture?" He asks. "Well... The only way to cure it is to have unprotected sex, has something to do with the protein/peptide hormones in sperm that dilute it. The way it gets cured in women is if that sperm gets in contact with an egg. If you don't cure it, your blood pressure gets too high, heart starts pounding, and you eventually die of a heart attack." You spin the papers around, it's got a diagram on it. "Jesus Christ, that's evil. We've got to destroy this stuff." He says. “Definitely. Did you find the subject?” He asks. “Haven’t checked the bodies just yet, got a little distracted seeing all of this. I thought it might be drugs. Well.. a different kind.” You chuckle. He laughs. Looking down. “Well. Let’s go see if you got him.” He places down a piece of paper he had. You hear the sound of bounding footsteps coming toward the both of you, and before either of you have any time to react, there's syringes being stabbed into the both of you. Your Captain has drawn his gun and killed the assailant before you even have time to react. You grasp the syringe out of your neck with a hiss, your Captain pulling one from his shoulder. "Was that.." You trail off. "Yeah. Yeah it was." He throws the syringe down, a sigh leaving his lips. "Fucking bloody hell, how much time do we have?" He asks. You pick the paper up off of the ground where you had dropped it out of reaction. "Three hours." You sigh.

Captain Price sits down in one of the chairs in the lab. Taking out a cigar and his zippo. Lighting it. Your brain is foggy. What does this mean? Does this mean you both die? Neither of you can get to civilization soon enough for...

Does that mean you have sex with your captain?

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air." You take a deep breath walking out of the room and heading toward an exit. You shove the large metal door open and take a step into the cool night air. You breathe in the air, looking up at the sky.

Nighttime was the best time to attack.

You take in a deep breath, sitting down against the cool brick wall. This was fucking insane. Maybe he injected you with something else. Maybe it was some other kind of drug.

The swirling in your stomach told you otherwise, you were in denial. You were in quite the predicament. Have sex with your Captain or die. Literally fuck or die. Does he think he's going to die? Is that why he's just sitting there? Of course he wouldn't expect you to have sex with him, but he was your Captain, you couldn't let him die either. You had no other choice. You were already sweating profusely and you're sure your Captain felt the same as you. You start pep talking yourself as you walked back into the room he's sitting in. He's shed a few of his things. His vest is off and he's just got on an army green shirt. "I uh.. I really respect you, Sergeant. But.." He laughs. He looks down at the ground before looking back up at you. "I-I was just going to come back in here to say that I.." You laugh awkwardly. "I don't particularly want to die either." You breathe. He looks up at you.

"Alright. I guess since we're on the same page. Let's figure out what the fuck to do." He stands up, picking up his stuff and walking over to the table. Picking up any paperwork that might be useful, motioning for you to follow him. You follow him outside. "Might want to take off any clothing you don't want getting ruined. We’re going to destroy this shit.” He looks at you as he sheds some of his clothing. What’s important anyways. You follow his lead, doing the same. You follow behind him as he makes his way over to a shed. He shoves the door open and steps inside. It’s dark but he’s digging around inside. It's full of all kinds of tools and construction items, he ends up finding a couple sledge hammers. He passes you one and you give him a look of confusion. "You can swing a sledge hammer right?" He asks. The way he throws the other up onto his shoulder, muscles fitting out his shirt so well has you swallowing hard. In just a few short minutes, you were going to have sex with him.

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

You nod your head, taking the other from him. You follow him back inside, going into the building with the massive vats of liquid. He takes the first swing, hammer knocking into the glass, shattering it and sending the water spilling out of the side, covering his clothes. It pools on the floor, covering your shoes. He laughs. “It’s kind’ve fun actually.” He smiles. When he swings the sledge hammer, his shirt stretches around his muscles and the grunts that leave him has the heat pooling between your legs. It’s getting worse by the minute. The longer this goes on, the more appealing your Captain seems to become. You laugh, taking the next swing, hammer knocking into it. The same thing happening. You smile.

A gasp leaves your lips, and your knees buckle underneath you. Your knees hit the ground, the liquid soaking your pants. “Oh fuck!” You cry out. “Hey, you okay?” He lowers himself down to you, resting a hand on your back. “Yeah, it’s just getting worse.” You pant out. “Just a couple more okay? We’ll fix it when we’re done.” He blushes. You nod your head. He helps you up and the heat filling your body feels like too much. You raise your hammer, knocking it into another vat, watching it explode.

You repeat this until there's nothing left. The both of you are panting, getting weaker by the minute. You follow him out the door and Captain Price lights the last of his cigar, taking a hit and offering it to you.

He flicks the last of it into the liquid and it lights on fire immediately. Filling the room and everything inside with flames. "Come on." He offers his hand to you. You take it, following him back outside as the building goes up in flames, admiring the work you both had done. "So.. You said that in order for the cure to work for women, the sperm has to come in contact with an egg. Unprotected sex. But.. doesn't that mean you end up.. Pregnant?" He asks. "I believe so, but I’m not entirely sure. Sex is the only cure because the hormones in the drug heighten all of your senses. Making the implantation of the sperm to be effective immediately.. so yeah. I guess so.” You shrug. He nods his head. After watching the building become a giant burning blaze, he breaks the silence, talking over the crackling and popping of the fire. "I'm going to go scope out that building right there.” He points to a big green building. “You want to check out the other? See what else is inside?" You nod your head. "Yeah sure."

You part ways and as John approaches, he stops when he sees a truck under a lean to. He has an idea. He opens the door and pulls the visor down, to his luck the keys come falling out. He turns the key, smiling when it roars to a start. He backs it up out of the lean to and pulls it closer to the burning building and adjusting it to where the bed of the truck faces the fire. He wanted to at least make the effort. Make this somewhat romantic for you. He goes inside the other building and looks for any kind of bedding inside, finding all kinds of blankets and pillows, bringing them down and laying them down in the bed of the truck. Once it's comfortable and everything is set up, Captain Price is struggling. His cock is rock hard in his jeans and he's sweating. Heart already beating hard in his chest. After a few more minutes, you emerge from the other building, smiling when you see what he's done. "What's this?" You ask. "Ah, just trying to make this more comfortable." The sky is full of stars, nobody is around. Burning building in the background. Perfect setting. He's sitting on the open tailgate of the truck, patting the spot next to him. "Your heart beating fast too?" He asks. You nod your head. He turns to look at you. Bringing his leg up onto the bed to turn more toward you. "You ready for this?" He asks. You nod your head. “Yeah.. you’re getting sexier by the minute as this stuff starts to set in.” You joke. “Oh, I’m already sexy. Always.” He winks. “Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

He swallows hard, leaning into you. The burning in your lower stomach feels a slight amount of relief. Must have something to do with serotonin being released from your brain. He pushes your hair behind your ear, cupping the side of your face with his hand and leaning into you. When his lips meet yours, you feel dizzy. He pulls away almost immediately, eyes closed. "Fucking hell." He laughs. Lowering his head. "Feels fucking good, almost too much." He laughs. "Yeah it does." You laugh. He leans back in, kissing you a little harder this time, deepening the kiss. You melt right into him, and even though neither of you have much of a choice, this somehow feels right. It feels good, how on earth a kiss could feel so good is beyond you. You move up into the bed of the truck, sinking into the blankets beneath you. He hovers over the top of you, kissing you again. He starts rolling his hips into yours and the moans slip from your lips unintentionally, he feels so good against you. He mumbles a few curses under his breath, he feels it too. He helps you remove most of your clothes, shedding his along the way too. Once you're fully naked and ready for each other, he lines himself up with your entrance. "Ah, Please." You pant. “No.. gonna take my time with you sweetheart.” He breathes. His lips trail down your body. Starting with the skin in your throat, he’s biting and sucking the skin. Hearing you moan out is something special. He didn’t know he needed it. He runs his tongue down your stomach, face between your thighs. “Oh fuck…” you whimper, looking down. You get a good look at him. He’s looking back up at you, sparkling eyes in the moonlight. He buries his face into your soaking cunt, lapping at your entrance and swirling his tongue over your clit. He sucks at the sensitive nerve until your legs are shaking and you’re squirming beneath him. “Oh my god!” You cry out. He smiles into you as he drags his tongue over your slit. “Mm.. taste so fucking good.” He breathes. He’s devouring you like you’re his last meal. He has a death grip on your thighs, keeping you still while he tastes you. Not wanting you to move away from him. A mewl leaves your lips and he knows you’re getting close. He pulls away, his face glistening in the moonlight. He kisses back up your stomach and chest, stopping to give your nipples some attention. He lines himself up with your entrance. Looking into your eyes. He sinks into you slowly, drawing a gasp from your lips. It's music to his ears.

Your eyes roll back when he starts thrusting into you at a quick pace. "I'm sorry if I'm rough- you just feel so good." He grits his teeth. "it's okay. I like it." You pant, looking down. You're watching him slide into the cavern between your legs, eyes rolling back at just how sexy it is. It's really starting to set in. You're having sex with your Captain. The Captain who you'd never had anything other than a professional relationship with. The Captain who up until just a couple hours ago you would've considered a friend. Now, dick buried up inside of you. Ready to fill you, potentially knock you up with his kid, and he's okay with it. You don't know that yet, but he's cool with it. He's always wanted to be a dad and you're a real pretty girl anyways. You'd look real cute round with his baby. He kisses you hard, hips plowing into yours as he fucks into you. "You're real beautiful you know?" He groans. Having trouble with an unsteady voice from trying to hold back the moans that desperately want to leave his lips. "I've thought you were real pretty for while, didn't think it'd turn into anything." He chuckles. "I couldn't have been more wrong huh." He smirks. "Guess so. I just.. you're my captain. It's just-ah!" A moan leaves your lips and he smiles. "You can call me John." He leans down, taking a harder thrust than the last. A moan leaving your lips. "Or moan it."

He speeds up his thrusts a little, feeling that familiar pit in his stomach. He's ready for it. Ready to claim you. Fill you up with his cum. You're clutching onto the blankets hard, legs resting up on his thighs. He's got the perfect angle, sliding right into the spongy spot inside of you, sending swarms of butterflies shooting through you. Something about the drug you're on. It's intensifying the pleasure. The dog tag he'd picked up and put on again at some point dangles in your face and the mental image you have of him is filthy, thrusting into you, the truck rocking with every hard thrust he takes. The deep rattle in his chest from his groans. It's too much and it overwhelms you immediately. Your high is creeping up on you quickly and so is his. You glance up at the sky, seeing all of the stars. Your eyes are getting increasingly blurry, your orgasm was right there. "John, I'm gonna cum!" You cry out. He lowers his hand, rubbing circles into your clit. Your mouth parts. Looking up into the sky. "Fuck, me too sweetheart." He groans. His thrusts start to get a little sloppy, he's chasing that high. He keeps rubbing at your clit, sending you into your orgasm. Tears fill your eyes. It's so much, the most pleasure you've ever experienced before. A gasp leaves his lips when he hits his own orgasm. Just then, the blazing building behind him collapses, sparks bellowing off of the rubble. His hips come to a sharp halt. He relaxes into you. Panting hard.

He slides out of you, moving to lay next to you, pulling one of the blankets over the both of you. You're watching the stars and seeing the building slowly burn out. Within the hour, both of you no longer feel the effects of the drugs that had been injected into you.

The next morning, it's cold when you stir awake because he is moving. He's sitting on the tailgate again and you pull the blanket up over you as you sit up. The building is nothing but ashes, still smoking. The wind is blowing just a little and it's still pretty dark. "Made it through the night." He smiles. "Yeah.. we did." You laugh. "Hell of a story." He smirks. "Yeah.. I'd say. Suppose we won't say that to our kid." You chuckle. "If there is one anyways." You lay back down. "I hope so." He mumbles under his breath, making your eyes widen. "What?"

"What?"

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P7)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: Life in Jackson doesn't start out great, especially when Joel hears some rather life-altering news about the reader.

Warnings: cursing

Masterlist

Part 1 and 8

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Finally seeing people without fear was a strange feeling for Y/N.

She held on to Joel as their horse lightly pranced through town behind the others.

But her daydream slowly closed as she felt Joel pulled the reigns to a stop. His hand rose and his voice rang through the street, "Tommy!"

When the man who Y/N figured was Tommy looked up and them and began to approach, Joel immediately dismounted the horse.

They ran to each other and embraced with a laugh from Tommy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I came here to save you."

The two immediately broke into laughter as they hugged each other once again.

…

The three ate like they had never seen food before.

As much as manners were important in context, they couldn't care less.

"There's more if you need it," Maria muttered.

Joel looked up finally, "Thank you, ma'am. It's been a while since we've had a proper meal."

Ellie nodded, "I don't think I've ever had a proper meal. This is fucking amazing."

"Jesus…" Y/N muttered. She turned to Tommy and Maria, "Sorry. Just… let's mind our manners?"

"Alright. But I want my gun back."

Maria leaned forward, "The kids here aren't armed."

Tommy interfered, "Listen, I think ya'll got off on the wrong foot."

Ellie yelled, "She was gonna have her guys kill us."

"Well," Tommy reasoned, "we gotta be careful who we let in this place. But it's all bark. We're just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all."

The tensions were rising.

Joel leaned forward, "Ma'am," he turned to Maria, "We're grateful for your hospitality and all. But it'd be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family."

Tommy's eyes widened just barely, "Well.. uh. Maria is family."

"Oh, shit!" Ellie sighed, "Congrats. Joel… say congrats."

That was the last thing Joel wanted to say.

His jaw clenched, "Congrats."

Y/N stayed silent, going back to her soup.

…

Y/N was the only one in the house when Joel opened the door.

Ellie had left to go to Maria's earlier while Y/N was showering.

And she had appreciated the alone time. After all, she hadn't gotten any in months.

But Joel was panicked and angry when he walked in.

"J…Joel?" Y/N asked.

He threw his gun down on the old dusty couch and let out a shuddered breath.

She dared to approach him, standing it front of the brick wall of a man.

"I just. I need some time, is all." Joel explained.

She nodded, moving to the kitchen to get him a drink.

When she returned with the glass of water, he was now sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. She sat the glass down in front of him carefully, and only when he heard her did he look up.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No." He immediately replied.

She nodded again, ready to give him space, but when she moved away, his hand grabbed her wrist. "…Stay. Please."

Joel never says please.

Of course she would grant him this one thing.

She let him pull her to him, her body now resting is his lap.

Her fingers gently played with the scruff on his face and he closed his eyes in thought.

"Do you feel safe here?" Joel asked finally.

She leaned back at his question. "I… I don't know. I don't suppose I know what feeling safe is like anymore."

"Are you scared here, then?"

She let out a chuckle, "I'm always scared, Joel."

His eyes opened to look at her in confusion, "Even with me?"

Her silence told him enough.

"This isn't the place for us, Y/N." 

She tilted her head, "Here? …with Tommy?"

He nodded, "We're leaving in the morning. We can't stay here. I can't stay here. Too crowded."

She let them sit in the silence before she let out a small, "Okay."

He let his lips pull into the smallest of smiles, running his fingers through her hair, "Was too mad when I walked in, I didn't even tell you how pretty ya look."

The woman's eyebrows furrowed. Her hair was still wet, and her clothing was a bit tighter than she would've liked but it was all they had. "You don't have to lie to me, Miller."

He laughed, "I'm serious, sweet girl." His fingers grazed her cheek. "I think you're beautiful."

She placed a soft kiss on his lips.

He pulled away with a smile, "Is that…" he sniffed her hair, "Coconut?"

She laughed, hitting his chest lightly, "You're ruining the moment."

He shrugged, "Sorry. Couldn't help myself. Haven't smelled that since…." He stopped.

Y/N couldn't sit there watching him relive memories, so she got up from his lap quickly. "Maria left you an outfit for when you're ready to change-"

"-What if I can't do it?"

She paused, "Do what, Joel?"

"Give you a family."

She took a step back, "W…what?"

He was deep in his thoughts. She could only tell by the way his eyes never met hers. "I had my chance, and I messed it up. My one chance at a family. Kids. I'm getting old, sweet girl. And there's no place to raise a child anytime soon. I think… by the time it could even be close to safe enough for you, we'll have missed our chance."

She was still shocked, not quite understanding him, "Do you… do you think that's what I want from you?"

He just nodded as his eyes finally met hers.

"No, Joel. I don't want a family. I fucked mine up, too. I could never… be a mother-"

"-Hey, don't say that-"

"-Let me finish, Joel." She huffed. "I'm not who I used to be. And…" She sighed, "It can't happen again."

He leaned back in thought, "What do you mean?"

"When I had Cam… they said it was a miracle that he made it. My anemia… I barely got us through. And I was in my prime, Joel. I don't want a family. I don't want... a fancy house with a wrap-around porch, or a car with real gas in it," she smiled, walking back towards him. She found her place on his lap once more, "I just want you, Joel Miller. Do you think maybe I could at least have that?"

His eyes studied her face in thought. 

She took that as a sign and leaned in to connect their lips once more.

But he didn't reciprocate. She felt him stiffen as his grip tightened around her.

She leaned back with a worried gaze.

"Get up…" he murmured. 

She leaned down slightly to catch his eye-line. "What, Joel?"

"Get up!" He suddenly yelled.

Her body involuntarily jumped up in fright.

He stood, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on. His voice was rushed and desperate. She knew he was having a panic attack. "I'm sorry, sweet girl. I can't give you a good life. You don't deserve this. I can't keep dragging you around."

"Stop. You're not dragging me, Joel. Just stay."

"No!" He demanded, "I… I have to go think."

The door slammed behind him as Y/N let out a frustrated sigh.

…

"I shouldn't have said what I said," Tommy reasoned to Joel in the shop. "I know you're happy for me. It's just… complicated for you. I'm sorry."

Joel stared at the ground in frustration.

Tommy leaned against the table in front of him, "Can I ask about her?"

"About who?"

"The woman."

Joel's jaw clenched slightly, but he couldn't deny his brother. "Y/N. She-"

"Y/N?" Tommy interrupted. "Tess' sister?"

"Yeah?"

"Wow," Tommy sighed, "Didn't think you'd get her to stick around. Been what? 5 years?"

"6 1/2 now."

Tommy nodded, "And… is she…?"

Joel frowned, "Is she what?"

"Is she yours, Joel?"

The older brother leaned forward on his stool, "What difference does it make?"

Tommy looked up with a sigh, "I have some… information. About her. I can keep it forever and let you continue to live with no knowledge, or I can tell you now and let you decide what to do with it."

"What kind of information?"

"Do you want to know or not, Joel?"

Joel let out a sigh of thought. Right when he thought he knew everything about that girl, she continued to be an enigma. 

"Just tell me."

Tommy nodded, "Well.. this isn't… easy stuff to hear by any means…"

"Spit it out, Tommy."

"Alright, Jesus," Tommy exclaimed. "Y/N's family is here. In Jackson."

Joel's face dropped. "What? What family?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "A father and his boy. The boy is probably… I don't know… 20?"

Cam.

Oh, god. Cam was in Jackson after all this time.

"Are you sure?"

"Joel. I'm telling you what I know. A few years ago, this man came in with the boy. They're blood-related. I asked. Said they were father and son. Long story short, I'm friends with the man. I got him drunk one evening and he told me about this girl he knocked up in high school. I didn't connect everything he told me to Y/N until I saw her earlier today. So, for your sake, I hope I'm wrong."

"What's the boy's name?"

"Joel, c'mon."

"The. Name. Tommy."

Tommy sighed, "Cameron."

Jesus Christ.

"Alright." Joel nodded. "When are you gonna tell the others?"

"Hey," Tommy stepped back with his hands up, "This is none of my business. I'm leaving this shit with you. Whatever you two have is entirely yours, alright? If you wanna tell her, be my guest. If not, no one will know. Okay?"

Joel scoffed, "Why wouldn't I tell a mother her child is alive, Tommy? What the fuck?"

"I thought that too, at first. But, you tell Y/N, and suddenly she has a family. A husband and a kid. And you and Ellie are replaced."

Joel's teeth began to hurt from his clenched jaw.

"Now, if it was me," Tommy continued, "It would hurt to tell Maria, but I'd do it if I knew it would guarantee her happiness. But you're not me, Joel. And honestly, this is the last chance you'll ever get at a family. The ball is in your court now."

The tension in the room was becoming unbearable.

Joel hadn't considered this outcome at all. If Cam was alive, how did he get here? And how did the father find him? What if Tommy is wrong, and he could get Y/N's hopes up only to drag her back down into what she was when he was taken the first time. He had an important decision to think on. But he couldn't. So, he changed the subject.

"This ride to the University, is it a suicide mission?"

"No. Not for you. We've had people go out there and come back. What is this, Joel?"

"Ellie is immune."

"What?"

"The girl is immune."

Tommy pulled out a stool and sat in front of Joel, "From the beginning."

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Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I'm a student about to start my second year, and me and all my friends are really nervous. It feels like first year was really rough for everyone all over the place and we're all really hoping for a better second year this year! Have lecturers been noticing that too? Do you think it's because of COVID?

Oh my god yes. Jesus yes. It's absolutely the covid effect, and we're expecting to see the disruption for the next five or so years, tbh - the current 18-21 year old undergrads went through the most important years of high school during a lockdown. That not only interrupted academic development (home schooling during a time of stress, massive disruption to exams and exam-taking skills, etc), it also enormously hit emotional development (mid to late teens have the highest socialising needs of the human lifespan, and no one could meet and interact with each other.) And that latter point is having a much bigger effect than the former.

Current undergrads haven't been able to develop the same resilience, the same approach to andragogic education, the same interpersonal skills for dealing with lecturers/fellow students. University is not like school; in school teachers are giving you the knowledge, and gradually encouraging you to try and use it to formulate your own opinions. In university, we're supposed to give you the framework to then go out and do you own research. The bulk of your education comes from you, not us; we're more like facilitators.

But, we're noticing that there's a far bigger skew now towards needing to get the answer right. Anxiety is higher, and so the fear of being wrong is much more crippling for these students, and that in turn means they're less willing/able to take charge of their own education and are more passive with it, wanting to just be fed the right answers so they can rote learn them and get the Good mark. And the disconnect between that and the reality of what lecturers are expecting is pretty big, it turns out, and is causing even more anxiety and stress. Record numbers of my students have started asking me to give their assignment drafts a quick look over, just to see if they're on the right track. Which, you know, I'm more than happy to do; but I do think it's a notable pattern change from three or four years ago.

If you're worrying on a personal level though, Anon, I have some Handy Tips if they're any use!

Remember: the idea of uni is that you are doing your own research and learning on the topics your lecturers describe. They're giving you the basics, but they're expecting you to look up examples, case studies, other research papers, etc. They want to see analysis. That's what gets you the good marks. If you simply describe the information you got in lectures and don't add anything, you'll struggle to rise out of a basic pass.

What's the fundamental point of your particular course? It's important to know this, because it'll tell you how to focus your assessments and exam answers. Just within the environmental sector, you could have Environmental Science (focus: academic exploration and research), Environmental Conservation (focus: applying the academic research to actual management and solutions), Environmental Impacts (focus: philosophy and ethics), etc. In all three, you might be given a paper about the latest IPCC report, but in the first you would focus on exploring all the research papers that formed the conclusion on climate change, in the second you'd focus on case studies around the world and the applicability/feasibility of the shared economic pathways that are going to fix the problem, and in the third you'd focus on the human impacts of both the problem and the proposed solutions. You may of course include elements of all of those, but your main focus should be chosen appropriately.

Keep your notes with copies of the lecture slides in nice ordered folders. Keep a bulleted list of the topics covered in each. This makes it far easier to go and double check the right info when you're stressed out

On that note, the best note-taking system is to add notes/comments to the lecture slides where you record clarifications and things the lecturer said (INCLUDING CASE STUDIES). Don't bother duplicating effort by writing what's on the slide.

I truly do know this is easier said than done, but don't leave your assignments until the last minute. Are you struggling with motivation? You need a study group. You need to body double.

And finally, the biggest: CONTACT STUDENT SUPPORT IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING. Every time I go to an exam board and we get to a student who has failed stuff, the first question the Academic Office asks is "Has this student been working with Student Support?" Even if they aren't that helpful in your uni, working with them means they know about the things you're struggling with, and that you've clearly been trying to work around the problems. That makes the Academic Office far, far more likely to take a lenient view of a student, rather than going "Well, clearly they just don't care then, withdraw them from the program." Your Student Support should be able to help you with counselling, study buddies, a support worker that can help you organise your time and interpret your assignment briefs correctly and give you interim deadlines, etc.

Oh, and remember to schedule in rest and downtime, just as much as study time.

And... honestly, you learned a lot in your first year. The learning curve is less steep in second year, even accounting for the academic rigour increasing. By now, you're basically used to things like referencing, routines, assignment formatting, etc. There are no more surprises, really. Now's the point you can get the bit between your teeth and run.

Anyway: good luck! And enjoy it as much as you can. University is hard, no doubt about that, but it can and should be fun as well.

[antimony-medusa]

on Consequences in minecraft streaming

Okay so one of the real common things that I've been seeing lately is an increasingly passionate call for certain characters to experience Consequences (and the rest of the post always makes it clear that they mean a specific type of definatively negative repercussions) for their actions during QSMP events. And aside from the absolute deja vu of having seen these same calls when DSMP was airing, and how that turned out (sorry, the syndicate did not all have a meeting where they apologized for their sins while tommy told them they were horrible people), I'm not 100% sure if that's going to happen or pan out in the exact way that I think people are aiming for and expecting will happen.

I keep seeing a lot of people saying that it would be bad writing if people don't get "consequences" for their actions, and what they're specifically asking for is punishment and for people to realize what they're doing was wrong. BBH is supposed to repent for furniture thefts and torturing the people keeping him from his kid. Phil is supposed to realize that actually he's good at PVP and apologize for saying that his team has been suffering in purgatory. Tubbo is supposed to fill in his tubhole and only do things other people ask him to do.

But like, so much of the time, what we're seeing is these streamers being interested in writing morally grey characters, just some little guys who make bad decisions, and the thing about characters being morally grey is that they don't always have a come to jesus moment and become morally pure. Sometimes they just keep being morally grey. Sometimes they get worse on purpose.

Maybe BBH never decides that torturing that guy was bad, because he wanted to get his FUCKING KID back. Like, I seriously think you have to be prepared for that character arc to never end in Bad going "that was wrong to do", and maybe his cubito will still be happy. Phil is a dude with anxiety who's been sure that his kids are going to die from the moment he got to purgatory, streaming at 1-4 in the morning while other teams break into their base, even if bolas goes insane and scrapes out a win I think it's way more likely that that team is gonna go "what a wild fluke that's the power of gas masks" and not have a moment where they go "it was unfair of us to assume that we were underpowered, I guess everybody else was the underdogs! Our bad." Tubbo is tubbo, he's already building a new create thing, he is not going to apologize for leaving marks on the landscape with mod packs.

Like, the streamers are interested in making human characters, making interesting decisions, not communicating moral lessons to their fanbases. Bad is operating within a Taken film, not a sermon. Quackity wants his cubito to be pathetic, gay, and out for revenge, not to communicate the importance of forgiveness to those who hurt you. Tubbo's victory condition is having a nice date with Fred, full stop, does not care who he has to run over to get there.

Absolutely I think there are people intentionally doing corruption/villany arcs on the server, and they probably intend for that to lead places. There will be Consequences, as in, things will happen. Cellbit is doing cannibalsm on purpose, and not as a teaching moment about how good cannibalism is for your social bonds. But like, maybe that leads to him being thrown out of his family and not trusted because of his sins, OR maybe it leads to him murdering his way through a federation complex, facing down a bloody cucurucho, and going "you made me into you and I hate this" and eating him. Narrative consequences does not always mean punishment and a return to moral purity. Sometimes people just do bad things, and then repercussions happen, but they don't necessarily "see the error of their ways". The specific call for like— retribution and repentance as the consequences people are going for— for punishment— if a character has done something bad they don't "deserve" good things to happen to them and it's bad writing for that to happen— I just don't think that those are the stories the creators are necessarily interested in telling.

And secondly, what people are often asking for is character conflict— they want people to be socially excluded by characters they feel have been wronged, and learn the error of their ways that way until they apologize sufficiently. Phil is gonna hate BBH or Tubbo is going to hate Roier or something once they return from Purgatory. People want their cubitos to have beef with each other.

But the thing is, on a meta level, I don't doubt that the entire admin team and streaming team on QSMP is just screamingly aware that this fandom cannot be trusted with conflict. The election was just part of it, but I made it through the election, and Purgatory has been so much more unpleasant— and I am not just talking about twitter. This website, tumblr, has been full of people fighting each other for their teams. And I am not just saying "red team fans have been bad", because boy have I been staring in horrified awe at the takes that some red team people have been putting forward (what on EARTH do you mean BBH deserves to have his kid die, touch grass immediately), but if I step outside of red team circles, everyone is talking about how red team people are horrible hypocrites who win too much and only deserve to suffer (I saw this posting the day that blue had back to back wins, so it isn't even tied to how well red is doing). The quality of the discourse has been increasingly unpleasant, and this has been taking place in streamer's chats, on twitter, in discords, and here on tumblr.

Every QSMP streamer is increasingly aware that having conflict with another streamer is basically sending a wave of negativity their way, and setting off bombs in the fandom at the same time. And they're all friends with each other! Sometimes they decide that the story beat they're going for is worth it and just tell each other to stay off twitter, but like, you have got to be prepared that maybe they will just be friends again. And that might be weaker writing, for people to keep forgiving each other, but that is an unfortunate aspect of the technical aspects of this medium and this fandom. Maybe the creators would be more willing to have character conflict if they didn't know that that meant the person they were mad at in-game would get death threats on social media.

Like no fucking wonder Phil apologized for getting mad at Wil within the same stream and before Wil said sorry to him. This is why the French have given up on revolution arcs, you know it's why the women are all very careful to get along with people. All of those creators know the cost of making anyone into a villain, and I'm just saying maybe get prepared that we won't have inner-party conflict. Maybe they'll decide it's worth it for a fun story moment! Maybe they won't. Maybe don't get 100% married to the idea that the only good writing possible moving forward is for people to be thrown out of the community and then repent for their sins.

[hero-israel]

Let me tell you being a former Christian this shit goes so much deeper than a lot of born Jews realize. The Christian worldview (specifically Calvinist/Puritan) seeping into and pervading all of modern leftism is honestly frightening. But also it's very funny.

They believe that there are Good people and Bad people, and that any mistake or lapse in judgment or instance of not being educated is a Mask Off moment, showing who is a member of the Elect and who is not. If you fuck up, that's not just a fuck up, it's Revealing. You are damned, were always damned, you were just good at hiding it, and now we know the truth and are doubly angry because not only are you evil, you lied about it. The only recourse is to shun you, and if that leads to your death, so be it. Anyone who's seen any micro celebrity get canceled saw this in action.

And the only way you can prove you're a member of the Elect is to operate as if you have nothing to hide. You have to loudly and proudly proclaim your righteousness. If you don't have anything to hide why would you be worried? Privacy is suspicious. You Must Speak on everything they deem important or else you obviously agree with the Bad People. There is no room for discussion or healthy debate. There are no loopholes or subclauses or other points of view to consider. You're with us or against us. If you don't constantly go around saying you're with us, you're probably secretly against us. The only way to convince your neighbors, whom you inherently distrust, that you're one of the Good Ones, is to perform righteousness, parrot righteous words. The only way to redeem yourself is by grandiose acts of self flagellation, perhaps being the right demographic, or by accusing others of Heresy.

The goal is not to bring good into the world, it's to recruit more people into the same thought patterns (that's kind of all Christian denominations though). Because if you can convince your community that you're one of the Elect, that means G-d preselected you for Heaven, and you're golden. No repercussions or consequences baby. The only material benefit for you is that you "get" to proclaim you're going to Heaven and everyone has to agree with you. If anyone doesn't they're probably going to Hell anyway. You're on the right side (of history), so why should you ever self reflect or grow? Why should you question anything? Why should nuance or empathy exist? This is about Right and Wrong. We know where we stand, where do you stand?

Every single aspect of American culture and politics, right and "left" alike, was planted by the pilgrims, and it is so fundamentally antithetical to true Leftist thought. Remember all the actually successful Western Leftist movements were started in Europe (and Israel cough cough)... because they kicked all their fucking psychotic Calvinists out. Those people went to America and that's a big big big reason why we don't have any near as much of a robust Leftist movement as even socially conservative European countries (and Israel cough cough). And what's funny is I still find myself slipping into these thought patterns, which is so not compatible with Jewish philosophy or theology. It's been years and I'm still not done.

It's a hell of a drug to kick, so I definitely don't trust white goysiche college kids who've been antitheists for about 6 months since they left their Republican parents' homes to have any great success in unlearning and unprogramming from this. Which is kind of obvious in that I see them acting just like their conservative Christian parents every day on every social media platform, swap out a gun toting white Jesus with some noble savage idea of Palestine, absolving the West of its sins against the Global South.

It is a cult structured around spiritual isolation, antisocial behavior, and it is inherently against any kind of political movement that centers and celebrates the Community. It is designed to tear communities apart and foster obedience to whatever authority can force itself on them. And this has been going on for almost 500 years, there is nothing we can do about it.

Thank you for the insightful look. Their "purity culture" approach definitely had to come from somewhere.

[canonizzyhours]

imagine it's 1982 and you really love star wars.

you go looking for other fans to talk about star wars with. you meet someone. "my favorite character is boba fett," they say. "cool! i love boba fett, he's such a great bad guy," you reply. the person you're talking to suddenly becomes deadly serious. "what? he's not a bad guy," they respond. "how could you even think that? what's wrong with you?"

you laugh nervously, thinking this is some kind of jokey deliberate-reading-against-the-text gag, but it becomes clear your new friend is absolutely deadly serious about this. unsure what to do, you try to redirect the conversation to subjects other than boba fett. you try talking about the first movie. but it turns out this person has an entire bonkers reinterpretation of the first movie where it's all about showing how luke and han and leia will be ultimately unable to succeed on their own, thus foreshadowing the eventual arrival of boba fett as fourth co-protagonist. you try pointing out that if there's a fourth protagonist surely it would be lando, and ignoring him seems kind of maybe a tiny bit racist? this goes over even worse.

you start to avoid this person. you seek out other fan spaces. but people who are like this about boba fett keep showing up. you feel increasingly insane every time you talk to them, hearing yourself saying obvious things like "well, uh, that's certainly one interpretation, but i feel like if darth vader has to caution you not to disintegrate people that might be a sign you're a villain?" and having them laugh in your face like this is absurd and offensive. you gradually realize that while most star wars fans aren't like this, everyone normal has learned to politely avoid talking about boba fett and other subjects that trigger the boba fett guys, because nobody wants to deal with them. you learn to only talk about star wars in closed communities that don't have any boba fett stans.

the saddest part of this is that over time it makes it very, very hard for you to enjoy boba fett, a character you used to really genuinely like.

the first trailer for return of the jedi drops. the boba fett guys go nuts, insisting that this proves their ultimate vindication is at hand, despite the fact that actually he's barely in the trailer. "uh, guys, i don't know about that," you say cautiously, kind of alarmed at how they're setting themselves up for disappointment. "i think boba fett might be a really cool character but not actually a super important one, and maybe he's just going to die in a sarlaac pit halfway through the movie and the rest will be about luke defeating darth vader." the boba fett guys respond by screenshotting your posts (social media exists in this version of 1982 for purposes of this analogy. work with me here) to publicly make fun of you. how could anyone possibly be dumb enough to think this, they say.

return of the jedi comes out. boba fett dies in the sarlaac pit. the boba fett stan community goes even more nuts than usual and schisms into a faction who are insisting that this is all part of a plan to resurrect boba fett like jesus in episode 7 and a faction who insist that george lucas has personally betrayed them. some of the latter faction manage to take control of the fan campaign to get more movies made despite the fact that they've explicitly said they don't actually want any more movies.

this is what my experience of ofmd fandom has been like.

#271.

[timemachineyeah]

I really, really need you to elaborate on this note you left on a post. I'm fascinated.

If you don't I'm sure I'll survive but this is an absolutely intriguing concept.

Whoooo, yeah, let's talk about Mormon theology and cosmology!!!

In response to me saying that this is basically Mormon theology, because it absolutely is

(I swear, being raised Mormon, and especially the studious and serious kind, and then leaving the church is like that bit in the first episode of The Office where they think they might be getting shut down and Jim says something like, "I know so much about paper. What I am supposed to do with all this knowledge if I don't work here any more." Like I never got very far in The Office, but I think about that feeling all the time.)

From the book of Mormon, 2nd Nephi Chapter 2:

22 And now, behold, if Adam had not transgressed he would not have fallen, but he would have remained in the garden of Eden. And all things which were created must have remained in the same state in which they were after they were created; and they must have remained forever, and had no end. 23 And they would have had no children; wherefore they would have remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for they knew no misery; doing no good, for they knew no sin. 24 But behold, all things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things. 25 Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.

Also worth noting that Mormons are so opposed to original sin that it's actually the second of the 13 Articles of Faith, which I had to memorize in grade school. The only article that comes before it is the one saying we believe in God, Jesus, and The Holy Ghost.

"2 We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression."

And stealing from the church's official current website on the topic

President Joseph Fielding Smith (1876–1972) said: “I never speak of the part Eve took in this fall as a sin, nor do I accuse Adam of a sin. … This was a transgression of the law, but not a sin … for it was something that Adam and Eve had to do!”

Adam's fall is considered an unequivocal good to Mormons. So this whole take on theology taps into two very import Mormon principles.

The first is "agency", "free agency", or "free will". This basically boils down to: you can't grow, your actions can't matter, if you don't have a choice. The ability to choose is power, and we are here specifically to experience that freedom and to learn how to use it.

This was actually the basis of a premortal war (don't ask how folks without bodies who can't die do a war, I've no idea) between Lucifer and Jesus, because Lucifer wanted to guarantee everyone's salvation by eliminating the ability to choose wrong. The losing side was cast out of heaven and that's where Satan and demons come from!

Here have a musical number about from a VHS I used to watch constantly (in case the link malfunctions, relevant song starts at 10:55)

The second is, "opposition". Basically, things can only exist in contrast. You can only truly recognize something in comparison to something else. Ergo, a world without suffering or sin is also a world without joy or virtue. It is a nothing world. Here, a worse song from the same musical! (starts at 8:57)

By this principle, the Garden of Eden, while wonderful from the outside in retrospect, was not wonderful from within, because Adam and Eve had no frame of reference for it. To them it was just Existence, and as an existence was fairly bland.

Another thing to understand here is that Mormons believe in a premortal existence. We are all, spiritually, as ancient as God is. We've all always existed. Another Mormon principle is one of "Eternal Progress" - the idea that we are always on a journey to improve, and are capable of improving to even the state of Heavenly Father.

I remember asking once if Heavenly Father was done progressing, and told we can't possibly know, but it's possible that even He has more progress to make. But if so, we can't possibly comprehend what he is progressing towards and it's not relevant to us now.

It's important to realize that "As man is, God once was. As God is, man might become" is, like, central to Mormon theology. We aren't lesser things than God, just not as far progressed. He's among the first caterpillars to figure out how to make a chrysalis and become a butterfly and he's trying to show us how to do the same.

Regardless, a necessary step to this progress, to growth, is to live a mortal physical life in a body. A body is so important that Mormons believe at the second coming everyone who ever lived will be resurrected into "perfect" eternal immortal bodies. (This ALL creates MANY logistical and theological problems but we don't have time for all that!)

Other necessary steps include compulsive heterosexuality, marriage, and having children. Because of course.

But if God's power is not innate, but rather something he has gained by being Perfectly Good And Noble - which is like the Force or something - then he isn't truly omnipotent. He is so powerful and omniscient that to us mere mortals the distinction is meaningless, but God cannot endorse harm or cruelty without potentially losing his Godhood. Godhood is conditional upon good behavior. Morality is a natural force in the universe that can be utilized, but! See above about opposition! And free will! To utilize it, you have to be capable of knowingly being bad and choose good anyway!

This puts God in kind of a bind when it comes to guiding humanity.

He needs people to have knowledge of good and evil, but if he gives it to them directly, he'd kinda be doing a bad thing? Like, he'd be causing suffering to just force knowledge of good and evil upon us. The suffering can't be something inflicted upon humanity, it has to be a product of human choice. And choice is essential, but to learn to make choices, first you must be presented with simple ones.

Like Adam and Eve are immortal, physical, useless baby adults who cannot progress. They need to progress, and they also need to get to boning or else all the other spirit children waiting in heaven to be born will not have bodies.

So God sets up a little trap. A little trick. Just a fun little -just a fun little game.

He puts a tree in the garden and he's like, "Just leaving this over here. Don't touch it. But it's right here. See it? Right here. Just making sure you saw it. Yeah, don't touch it. In fact, two commandments for you.

Go have kids

Don't eat that fruit"

And Adam and Eve are like, "cool, great, awesome."

And God is like, really loudly in front of Lucifer/The Snake like, "Oh noooooooo. I sure hope they don't eat from this treeeeee. That would be terrrrrrible! They'd learn about SIN and BECOME MORTAL." and Satan is like "tehehehe I have a great idea!"

Meanwhile Eve, who is currently a metaphysical biological immortal, does not know what sex is and has no sex drive. She's like, "Sooooo? The kids part? How that?"

And the snake is like "You can find out, but you gotta eat this fruit" (true! this is Eden, it is still free from sin. The snake cannot lie here, yet. Because folk Mormon theology - Satan can't lie! That's a fun fact about him. He twists and manipulates truths, but lying is a Mortal gift we got from the whole Fruit thing that Eve is about to do)

And Eve is like, "Yeah, sure, I want babies. God told me to have them so...." and eats the fruit exactly as God intended her to, tempted by the snake exactly as God planned. And she was like, "Oh! I WANNA BONE ADAM. ADAM EAT THIS SO YOU KNOW WHAT BONING IS SO I CAN BONE YOU."

But then they were materially and metaphysically changed, so they couldn't stay in the Garden anymore. Less about casting out, more about God having to follow the Moral Metaphysical Laws that give him his power.

I was even taught it's not even that childbirth/periods/menstrual pain were punishments from God. They are just natural results of sexual reproduction and the part where God says that's gonna happen now isn't him giving Eve a curse, just kinda God giving Eve some sex ed. Since she'll need it.

Basically, God couldn't tell Adam and Eve to eat the fruit, and in fact was morally obligated to tell them not to, because doing so would cause suffering and death. But the suffering and death aren't a punishment from God, they're just facts about the world that become real when you know about them, but you have to know about them and experience them in order to know and experience good things also, and become closer to being a god yourself, and God wanted us to have good things, so he wanted us to eat that fruit. Which is why he put it there.

So very much like leaving water out for a cat who thinks they're being naughty but actually you just want your cat to be hydrated.

Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles observed: “This suggested contrast between a sin and a transgression reminds us of the careful wording in the second article of faith: ‘We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression’ (emphasis added). It also echoes a familiar distinction in the law. Some acts, like murder, are crimes because they are inherently wrong. Other acts, like operating without a license, are crimes only because they are legally prohibited. Under these distinctions, the act that produced the Fall was not a sin—inherently wrong—but a transgression—wrong because it was formally prohibited. These words are not always used to denote something different, but this distinction seems meaningful in the circumstances of the Fall.”

And before any baby Mormons come in here like, "nuh uh!" about any part of this, your "eternal truths" have been so watered down in the past several decades by leadership trying to seem mainstream and cling to hemorrhaging membership. Y'all don't even know your theology anymore half the time, and what's worse is it's just as toxic as ever but like 200% less interesting. I like Mormonism better when they're proudly declaring Bigfoot is Cain and talking about how John the Beloved already has an immortal body and has been wandering the world for 2000 years and confidently claiming he was the stranger who helped them fix a tire that one time.

[thiswasneverthat]

friday

ㅡ seven masterlist

❅ chan x fem!reader

❅ smut, minor dni, masturbation, just overall chris being chris ig

❅ wc: 1.2K

When Chris said you were gonna pay for messing with him earlier in the morning, you thought it was an empty threat. He had this tendency to do that in the bedroom while you both were fucking each other's brains out.

However, it appeared that in this particular instance, you may have overlooked the significance of his wordsㅡ which you shouldn't have done. 

When you got home later at night, you were welcomed by the unforeseen sight of him in the living room. He was sitting down on the couch while watching a football match, wearing nothing but a running short. 

"Hey, is there something wrong with the aircon?" you squinted your eyes at him, head tilted slightly.

"No, it's working just fine," Chris answered casually without sparing you a glance.

"So?" you cleared your throat before walking toward the kitchen. "What has gotten to you, then? Don't you have any clean shirt to wear?"

You have seen Chris naked so many times, but it was rather out of the ordinary to witness him comfortably seated in the living room like that without any perceptible motive.

"Why? Does it bother you?"

From where you were standingㅡ in front of the fridge, you couldn't see his face but you could feel that he was smirking as he said that.

"No, it doesn't," you answered rigidly before downing a mouthful of cold water down your throat to soothe your jitters.

Out of nowhere, a staggering sensation then arose as you felt an inexplicable warmth slowly emanating from your cheeks, causing a slight flush to color your complexion.

"Do we still have some beers?" Chris asked casuallyㅡ and unbeknownst to you, he was already walking toward the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah, we do. I'll get you one."

While still oblivious to the fact that Chris was approaching closer, you hastily retrieved a can of beer from the fridge. However, when you turned around, your face nearly collided with his bare chest, causing you to let out a startled gasp.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

"You okay, babe?" he asked with a mischievous laugh as one of his hands automatically came up to hold your shoulder.

"Chris, my God! Don't sneak up on me like that!" you grumbled and closed your eyes.

With him standing in close proximity, the distinctive scent of his perfume enveloped your senses, causing a dizzying effect on your head.

"What?! I didn't mean to sneak up on you," Chris shook his head as his laughter subsided. "Why are you so antsy, though?"

"Never mind! I am going to take a bath," you quickly handed him the can of beer before you bolted out to the bathroom.

Something must have gone wrong with you, because why were you so agitated since the first second you saw him shirtless in the living room.. right?

It shouldn't be a problem if he doesn't want to wear a freaking shirt at home.. right? It wasn't like there were anybody else except the two of you.

And for fuck's sake, you have seen him naked more times than you cared to count.

"Shit, what the hell is wrong with me?!" you groaned to yourself before you stepped into the bathtub.

As you let out a long and heavy sigh, you slowly submerge yourself under the water, hoping that the comfort could wash away your intrusive thoughts. You needed to stop fantasizing about his abs in your head. You seriously needed to stop salivating over how insanely stunning he looked without a damn shirt.

But the most important thing was to detach yourself from the incessant flow of thoughts. Because you were so absorbed in your own mind that the presence of Chris joining you in the bathroom went completely unnoticed.

Without making a noise, he swiftly slid down his shorts and walked over to the shower which was next to the bathtub, separated merely by a glass wall.

Only when he turned on the water that you finally snapped out of it. "Oh myㅡ Chris! What are you doing?!"

"Taking a shower, what else?" Chris said casually as he threw his head back a little, relishing the warm water coursing down his naked body. "You okay, though? You are not yourself."

"What?! No, no, Iㅡ I am fine, no worries," you stuttered and then averted your eyes.

How is this possible? Your heart was pounding violently when you caught a glimpse of him standing naked under the shower as if it was your first time.

Did he do all of this on purpose? Or it was you who was overly sensitive?

"Fuck," you hissed and hurriedly reached for the shower gel. For your own sakeㅡ to avoid worsening your emotional turmoil, you need to speed up your bathing ritual.

However, as you were about to stand up and grab the towel that was placed near the sink, you stopped dead in your track when you heard a soft moan.

In the next second, your pupils dilated and you felt your stomach churned. And much to your dismay, your head turned on its ownㅡ facing the source of the noise.

There he was, standing under the running shower while massaging his cock. 

"Ah, fuck fuck," Chris grunted sharply before he bit his lower lip. His chest heaved up and down, his eyes sealed shut and his hand working with great vigor to satisfy himself. 

From where you were standing, your view began to be obstructed by the fog that enveloped the glass wall, which then prompted you to let out a loud groan. 

"Enjoying the view?" he asked through gritted teeth without glancing over at you.

"Huh? Whaㅡ what? I didn'tㅡ" your words came out in a jumble, stuttering and stumbling over each other after he caught you like a deer in the headlights. 

You then only stood in your spot, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You had no idea what to say or how to explain yourself. Your eyes darted around nervously, hoping for some kind of way out of the situation. 

And Chris was right. You were not yourself.

"Come closer then," his command came out in a low guttural grunt before he turned around to face you instead of the wall this time. "Look at what you'll be missing for the next couple of days."

Heeding his command, you took a few steps closer and held your breath. Your heart was racing as you struggled to comprehend the weight of his words and the mouthwatering sight he had just unveiled before you.

In fact, nothing else held your interest as much as he did at that moment. He occupied all of your thoughts and consumed your attention entirely. It was like he had a certain power over you that you couldn't resist.

Well.. definitely not, when the veins in his arms were popping out as he stroked his cock vigorously. You swore you could religiously watch him like that all day.

"Look at me, baby," Chris called out to you, instantly pulling you out of your trance. "Look at how hard I will cum."

Accompanied by throaty moans and gasping breaths, Chris came all over his hands and trickled down to his thighs. 

[cyberdragoninfinity]

I'm sorry but WHAT is happening in Duel Links??

*CRACKS KNUCKLES* ALRIGHT im certain other people could explain this better than I could (bark at me if any of this is wrong,) but, an attempt at a quick rough tl;dr of it:

so like. an important thing to note with DL is that like..... the in-universe explanation for Duel Links is that it's one of Seto Kaiba's new VR Next Evolution of Dueling Ego Projects, which like, ok sure, he Makes Those, but what's a little alarming with this one is that technically (almost) none of the characters In The Game are actually Those Characters Specifically, they're AI recreations of them with their original self's memories (that's already a lot, right out the gate.) (I say "almost" everyone because I think it's implied DSOD Kaiba and maybe Mokuba actually Are them because it's Their Game and they're always product testing it, there might be others though)

anyway another thing with this situation is that, uh, Most Characters in Duel Links Do Not Know They're AI. They just assume they're the original guy, that's just them! Hanging out in this cool new Duel VR! But then sometimes you DO get characters who actively are aware that they're just code in a video game (Yami Bakura and Bruno 5D's both comment on it), so you have this really interesting ecosystem of duelists who Are aware they don't really exist, and duelists who are None the Wiser. absolutely batshit.

and sure this is all well and fine with like, DM and maybe GX characters, ok sure it makes sense Kaiba would be recreating notable duelists of that era, but i cannot stress enough He Is Also Making AI Recreations of Dead People. DL very much takes place post-manga, post-DSOD. But Yami Yugi is There. Yami Bakura and Yami Marik are Very There. Manga Pegasus is there. Seto "I Will Never Learn to Come to Terms With Grief" Kaiba is actively raising the dead in his little VR card game simulator so they can live forever and there's a 50/50 chance they'll be FULLY AWARE that they died. JESUS.

There's also the hulking elephant in the room of Duel Links Has Been Including Characters From Series Kaiba Has Nothing to Do With For Quite Some Time Now--and a lot of those characters are like HEY. WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE. like I SWEAR someone from either Zexal or Arv-V was actively like "hi what the hell is KaibaCorp" so like...Kaiba's branding is ALL OVER THE VR WORLD EVEN IN THE WORLDS HE DIDNT EXIST IN. It's painting this absolute off the rails picture of Seto Kaiba trying to create this virtual multiverse of The Best Duelists From Every Timeline Living or Dead, and half the guys he's pulling in at this point are like *spawns into a perfect recreation of their hometown with no real idea of who did this* "what in the goddamn."

like guys from zexal/arc-v are actively IN GAME like trying to figure out why this VR world exists and who created it. It's absolutely wild and fascinating to watch. excited to see what happens when they add VRAINS world next month?!?!? idk anything about VRAINS really but it's probably going to make the DL lore even more bananas.

ANYWAY. ALL OF THAT SAID. NOW WE HAVE MAXIMILLION PEGASUS DROPPING IN-GAME OMINOUS SENTIMENTS it's kind of a culmination of all of the aforementioned shit. Duel Links Pegasus (an AI recreation of manga!Pegasus, who is fully aware A.) that's he's dead and B.) that there's multiple worlds and timelines crammed into this Virtual Reality) has a conversation with Paradox (an AI recreation of Paradox the Bonds Beyond Time Yugioh Movie Bad Guy, who, for all intents and purposes, fully believes he's the real dude and he wants to kill-die-explode-murder Pegasus SO BAD) breaking down that "hey, this place unites different histories, and if you kill me duel monsters won't cease to exist. Anyway, I'm not real! Ohoho! This world holds threads of tragedy, Paradox-boy!" <-- (not verbatim. but i wish it was.) Meanwhile Paradox is having a sputtering breakdown right next to him. This is a video game to play yugioh the trading card game.

like. it's just absolutely wild. konami could have just said "hey heres yugioh characters from every series. whatever" but no instead they threw in a bunch of mild psychological horror and inter-series friction and existentialism and it's a freemium video game that i have 600+ hours on on steam. yugioh duel links !

[berberriescorner]

"Are You Listening?"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader

Summary: After months of being neglected, your anger reaches its boiling point. Time is money, and you know that Rio is all about his bread. If you want to be the king, you gotta stay busy. What’s more important, love or money? Can you have both? Is it possible to be both a cold-hearted businessman and a loving partner? Showing emotion can be a sign of weakness in Rio’s world. How does that work in a marriage? At the same time, you chose to be with him. Shouldn’t you be used to it?

Warnings: Profanity (are you surprised😂). A smidge of daddy kink, with a tiny spot of degradation (again, no surprise there🤣). Angst (quite a bit). A little fluff…it’s there I promise. Sprinkled it with some smut, too (it’s giving a bit of praise kink and dom vibes😈).

Word Count: 3,800+.

A/N: Italicized sentences are the reader's thoughts (in case you were confused and/or curious). It’s kind of lengthy, but the reader had to pop her shit…and Rio popped right TF back👏🏾😆. Part two, yeah can’t tell you when it’s coming, but I’m working on it.

Inspired By:

From the moment Rio found you angrily wiping down the kitchen counters, there had been nothing but tension. For the first ten minutes, he was oblivious to the fact. He was too busy answering texts and was very clearly preoccupied with business. Taking a moment to notice your anger, he asked the one question that would set you off. “What’s wrong, mama?”

No, he wasn’t a mind reader, but how could he not know? You had only been asking him to try to make time for you for months. Three nights in a row, Rio had made empty promises. There were failed dinner reservations on night one. Surprisingly, he’d managed to make your movie date the second night. Only Rio had left you thirty minutes into the film to finish it alone. Supposedly some business needed handling, and it couldn't wait. He urged you to stay and enjoy it. Mick would get you home safely. Tonight consisted of a failed candle-lit dinner (also his idea). Rio had called minutes after you had taken the meal out of the oven. “Go ahead and eat without me. I’m not sure what time I’ll be there. Sorry, mama.” All these things led to the argument that was taking place in the middle of your spacious kitchen.

“There's always a business trip to take. Always an issue with something that only you can solve. You constantly have to run behind that thirsty ass bitch of a stalker you call a business associate. All because said associate is constantly fucking up the plan. You’re never here! I get more dick from my vibrator than I do my husband!”

“Is the problem I’m never home, or do you just need some dick? Are you touch starved mama? Feeling needy, a little neglected?”

Rio was starting to pluck at your nerves in the worst way. It was kind of backfiring, the conversation began to aggravate him. He hated when you complained about him working too much.

“It’s all of the above ni-you know what I’m tired of repeating myself. It’s clear you’re not listening and don't give a fuck, Christopher.”

“I’ve been listening.” 

“Listening to respond. Not to understand me, Rio!”

“You’re tired of saying it. I’m tired of hearing it, darlin’.”

Typical Rio fashion. Feelings closed off. Always the calm and collected sarcastic asshole. I’m trying not to swing on this man. Jesus, give me strength.

“That’s all you have to say? Of course, 'cause you’re incapable of showing emotion. Jesus, Rio. I’m trying to fix the disconnect between us.” 

“All we do is argue about the same shit. How many times I gotta explain it, mama? I’m running an empire, I can’t be out here just sitting around. What you want me to do? Leave it on Mick and the rest of my men? All it takes is for one thing to go wrong. If I ain’t there to fix it, you know what’s gonna happen? Everything goes to shit and I get knocked ten steps back. I’m not letting anything fuck up the business or my money.”

“I’m not letting anything fuck up the business or my money. Bullshit excuses. I know what I signed up for, Christopher,” you mocked him.

“Then act like it. There you go with that mouth. Watch your tone, ma.”

His voice had turned cold and there was fire burning in his eyes. Rio was giving you all the signs that you were skating on thin ice. Any other time it would be enough to get you to back down, but not this time. You were sick and tired of coming last to everything, especially that thirsty ass housewife.

It was one thing to take a backseat to the business. You loved his work ethic and understood that he was busy. However, it had been a month and a half long stretch. Rio, coming home at all hours of the night. Not even having time to eat a little breakfast and talk in the mornings. The fact that it had been so long caused doubt to creep into your mind. If he wasn't fucking me, then who in the hell was it? You had never known him to ever go without sex this long.

Popping up to visit him at work was out of the question. Months prior, one of his rivals had attempted to snatch you from the grocery store parking lot. The assailant had no clue that Mick had accompanied you. He was in the car waiting, as the idiot tried to approach you. Poor bastard never even saw Mick coming. Rio had lost his shit.  Doing his best to keep you protected, he wanted you as far away from the business as possible. There was also the fact that he switched warehouses so frequently. You couldn’t even attempt to ignore his rule about keeping a distance. The desperate housewife could come up there anytime she felt it necessary though. He doesn’t give a shit about her. It’s your safety he’s worried about. Your thoughts were battling with one another. The negative side winning. The thought of her being there pissed you off.

“Are we going to keep going back and forth over nothing? Are you ready to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

“For a successful businessman, you’re pretty damn stupid. I’ve just sat here and explained it for the hundredth time! Sometimes I honestly can’t fuckin’ stand you, Rio.”

By the time the last word fell from your lips, Rio had made his way across the room. Inches away from your face he rasped, “the fuck did you just say to me? Your brain short circuit, mama?” Giving you a chance to walk your previous statements back, he waited, hoping you had come to your senses. You were seething with anger at not getting through to him. There were also those thoughts of him and that woman spending time together. The time that he should have been spending with you. Let’s not forget the nonexistent sex life. You were feeling unheard, neglected, pissed off, horny, and…jealous? Were you jealous of Beth? That thought alone caused your anger to rise. You were in the mood to choose violence.

“Look, I know dotting little Elizabeth jumps every time you tell her to, but not me baby. Keep waiting for me to retract my previous statement all you want. I said what the fuck I said, Christopher.” 

The fire was still burning in Rio’s eyes, but his smoldering glower had morphed into a smile. Now smirking he closed what little space was left between the two of you. Hand circling your throat he pushed you up against the wall.

“And there it is. Finally, the truth comes out. You jealous, mama? Is that it?”

“Jealous of what? That basic bitch, get the fuck out my face, Rio.”

He’s not dickin’ you down sis! He gotta be slanging it somewhere. Two, almost three MONTHS! He brought it up. Actually, no, you did.

“Since we're on the topic. Are you sleeping with her?”

“Stop playing with me, Y/N,” he snapped. “What do you think I do at work, ma?”

“We don’t have sex, Rio. Your ass can hardly be satiated. I can barely recall the last time you knocked me down. So, tell me, who’s been satisfying your needs?” 

Gripping your throat a bit tighter, he chuckled. His lips grazing over the top of yours, he whispered, “do you honestly think I would risk losing you over a quick fuck, ma? I see lack of sex makes you delusional.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, keep digging yourself a deeper hole, ma. Keep running your mouth, and I’m gon’ fill it up.”

You so desperately wanted to moan at his words, but you were too stubborn to give in. If only he knew how badly you wanted to drop to your knees. Take him down your throat and let him have his way with you.

“I’m not interested in community dick.”

“The fuck did I just tell you?”

You rolled your eyes still not believing him.

“I’ve been snapping at people left and right. The smallest inconvenience has been getting everybody's head knocked off. That being said I think it’s safe to say that I’m just as irritable as you are. The difference is you wear your heart on your sleeve, ma.”

“No, the difference is you've been handing out my dick.”

“Now who’s being stupid and not listening? I like you being jealous though, it’s cute, baby.”

Placing his hands at the sides of your neck, his lips covered yours in a hungry kiss. Tongue swiping across your parted lips, he asked for entry. Being stubborn you did your best not to grant him access. Trying to push him away from you, he pulled back giving you a mischievous smile. 

“I don’t know why you fighting it, ma. Know you ain’t do all this fussin’ just to end the night without me filling you up,” he teased. Pressing his lower half against you, a gasp fell from your lips. The feel of his growing erection made you pant and rut against him. His name fell from your lips.

“R-Rio, we’re not done talk-”

He picked you up, wrapping your legs around his body. With your back pinned to the wall, he groaned as his dick rubbed against you once more. “No more talking, baby.” Pushing your nightshirt out of the way he slipped his hand past the lace of your panties and circled your clit. Whimpering, your head fell back against the wall. He removed his hand long enough to slip your shirt over your head and toss it to the floor.

“Rio, seriously. Let me-.”

Grabbing you by the throat, he pulled you into another searing kiss. It was lewd and erotic as he ground his hips against yours. He was so hard that you knew his jeans were becoming more uncomfortable by the second. His erection bumping against your soaked core caused you to gasp.

“Chrisstopherr. I-.”

His hands gripped your neck tighter as he growled through clenched teeth, “Shut. Up.” 

His hips rotated into you again as your eyes rolled back. “That turn you on, mama? Love it when I shut your ass up? Choking you got you so wet, darlin’. Look at the mess you’re making on daddy’s pants, fuck. Let’s get these off of you, yeah,” he groaned. Without putting you down his dominant hand ripped your panties off. Your lips fell open to complain, but before you could get a word out his fingers penetrated your mouth.

“Pretty sure I told you to shut up. Suck. Get them nice and wet for me.”

He had all but shoved his fingers down your throat. Loving every bit of it, you took his fingers' knuckles deep. Swirling and sucking like the good girl he wanted you to be. The more you sucked, the more aroused you both became.

“Good girl,” he praised as his free hand groped your breast.

The smug look on his face annoyed you and you started in again once he pulled his fingers from your mouth.

“No, you're not doing this right now. Put me down so we can finish this discussion.”

He shook his head no, “why can’t your bratty ass just sit back and shut up,” he rasped as his wet fingers trailed back down your naked body. “Gonna make you regret not listening to daddy.”

His fingers were back in you before you could give him a smart-ass rebuttal. Slipping two fingers inside your channel. Rio reached for that sweet spot that could instantly bring you to tears. He plunged his digits deep enough, tapping it repetitively forcing you to cry out.

“Fu-stop, I’m not done talk-shit! Don’t stop! Oh my god. Yes!”

He felt your walls tighten around his digits. Just as you were about to fall apart all over them, he removed his hand.

“Rio!”

“Did I say you could cum? I don’t remember you asking for permission, mama.”

Not giving you time to respond, he plucked you from the wall. Rio carried you over to the dining room table. Still gripping your waist, he used his free arm to swipe the dinnerware and place settings onto the floor. Your back slammed against the table just as the dishes collided with the floor. You wanted to bitch about the broken items but decided against it.

“Don’t say a fucking word, Y/N. This is what you wanted right? I’ll buy you a new set, just shut up and take this dick.”

His palm glided across your chest, stopping to press you flat against the surface. Standing between your soaked thighs, he used his free hand to unbuckle his jeans, pushing his clothing low enough to let his thick member spring free. His girth glistened with precum as he dug inside you. You were overwhelmed with sexual bliss and went slack-jawed at how full you felt. Not able to form any words, a whimper fell from your lips. 

“Ain’t been in you that long. I already got you speechless, darlin’.”

His hips circled in and out of you, the strokes becoming deeper. The feeling was overwhelming and he felt you trying to slide back for relief. Gripping your thighs, he shook his head as he pulled you in and thrust harder.

“Naw, where you going? Ain’t no running, mama. Thought you wanted this dick.”

“Rio, it’s too much. Please, baby.”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears, as he spread your thighs wider. His hands moved up to your waist and he started to fuck you harder and faster. You started to whine as his signature crooked grin formed on his face. He tossed his head back, biting his lip as he felt you grip him tighter.

“So fuckin’ tight, mama. This still mine, right? This my pussy?”

It was almost impossible to answer with him constantly tapping your g-spot. Your nails scraped against his T-shirt. You tapped his abdomen, taking a deep breath. The words tumbled out of your mouth.

“Yes! You know it is. Take this shit off,” you demanded clawing at his shirt. “Need to feel you.”

Rio sank the deepest he could.

“Feel that, mama.”

This bitch thinks he’s funny.

“Fuck, Rio,” you cried out. “You know what I mean,” you mewled.

His hips continue to pound into you, as he slid his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Rio bent down, letting his lips ghost yours, “that better, mama,” he whispered.

You pulled him closer shoving your tongue into his mouth, as he fucked you through the kiss. Rio’s hand slipped between the two of you, his index and middle finger drew slow circles into your clit. The tremors in your thighs signaled that you were close.

“Daddy,” you cried out, scratching his back.

“I know, baby. It’s been too long. Let go, mama. You gon’ be a good girl and squirt for me? Hmm?”

His hips were slamming into you with brute force. So much that you felt your body slide up the table. Rio took notice and laid a hand against your abdomen to keep you in place. The weight of his hand had you gasping. The crooked smile graced his face once more,  as he pressed harder. Leaning in, he growled, “you feel that shit? You like getting them guts rearranged, sweetheart?”

“Oh, shit! Yes, I love it so fucking mu-ah! Shit, I’m cu-ahh!”

Your body started shaking uncontrollably. Your release was so strong, that you did in fact squirt. Rio pulled out, letting his ringed fingers rub you through it. Your hand found its way around his wrist, as you tried to pull him away from you.

“Too sensitive, daddy.”

He pushed your hand away, grabbing you by the throat. His lips crashed into yours as he continued to rub into you. Another orgasm hit you instantly. It was so strong that tears were rolling down your cheeks. Pulling away from the kiss he groaned, “I don’t give a fuck about you being sensitive. I’ma make you come as many times as I want, baby.” Rio sat down in the dining chair and gave you an order, “come sit on this dick.”

Stroking himself he watched as you carefully made your way to him on wobbly legs. He snatched you by your waist pulling you down onto his long rod.

“Ohh, fuck,” you whimpered, as he slapped your ass.

Giving you just a moment to adjust, Rio gripped your behind.

“What you waiting on? Ride me, mama. You get one chance to do it right,” he instructed, smacking your bottom again.

You bounced on him vigorously at first, but the two previous orgasms had zapped all your energy. Taking him in fully you sat in his lap rocking back and forth. His hand grasped your chin as he spat, “I really be trying to give you a chance, ma.”

His hands grabbed hold of your soft globes as he lifted you. He held you at the tip for a moment.

“Gonna make you regret trying to take the easy route, darlin’.”

Sliding you back down, he started to jackhammer into you. Pressure started building in your core, as you threw your head back.

“No, please. Fuck, oh fu-Christopher. Can I come? Please, daddy.”

“I should make your little bratty ass hold it, but fuck I’m close. Go ahead, come for me, bitch,” he growled.

Rio knew a little degradation would be just the thing to push you over the edge.

“Christopher,” you shouted, as you fell apart for the third time that night.

You tucked your face into the crook of his neck, as he fucked his way to a release, “fuck,” he groaned, painting your walls. He massaged your back, helping you come back down. You pulled back and smiled at him lazily. He bit his lip as his hand reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. Rio kissed you until you both pulled apart breathless. He was about to offer to carry you upstairs for a relaxing shower, but a loud knock on the front door interrupted him.

“Who the fuck is beating on the door like a madman?”

Rio handed you his shirt as he pulled on the bottom half of his clothes. He swiped his gun from the countertop. Whoever it was, was now knocking and ringing the doorbell like a crazy person.

“Where’s your purse?”

“Kitchen counter.”

“Get your gun and go hide in the pantry. Do not come out. I will come to get you. I don’t know who the fuck this is, but better safe than sorry. Go!”

“No, I want to stay with you.”

“Not now, don’t do this now. Get your ass in the fucking pantry.”

“Okay, damn!”

You pecked his lips before doing what he said. Retrieving your gun from the luxury handbag, you slipped into the pantry. You were able to hear the conversation with the person who had interrupted aftercare. Making out the voice, you grew irritated. Exiting the pantry, you bounded over to the front door. Not giving a damn about the glare on Rio’s face, you snapped.

“Why the hell were you knocking on our door like the damn police? What the fuck, Mick?”

“Aye! Relax. Chill, mama. I wasn’t answering my phone and some business needs handling,” he replied as he backed you away from the door. You had been waving your gun around full of attitude. “Give me this fucking gun before you shoot somebody! I taught you how to handle this shit safely. Could’ve sworn I told your ass to stay put. I’ma deal with you later. Go upstairs and get cleaned up. Coming to the door half-naked. Why can’t you just listen? Anybody else would’ve gotten shot for disobeying an order. Yet here you are steadily trying my fucking patience.”

Aware that you had struck Rio’s last and final nerve. You decided to do as you were told. Rolling your eyes at a smirking Mick, you left to make your way upstairs.

Gathering items for you both to shower, Rio entered the room.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I got upset, we were having a sweet moment. Then your henchman showed up, killing the vibe.” 

“I know, but we’ll have to discuss your listening skills later, mama. I got to slide,” he replied.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed in a change of clothes. Rio was too distracted with lacing up his shoes to notice the disappointment on your face.

“Later? You’re leaving?”

“Didn’t I just tell you there are some things I gotta handle?”

“Just gonna fuck me and leave, huh? Should I even bother waiting up?”

“You just nagged me about our sex life. Did I not just blow your back out? You know what, I’m not having this argument with you again. I don’t need this shit on my mind for what I’m about to go and do. Can we not have static for once, mama?”

The fact that he still doesn’t get that it’s not just about the sex. Either he just doesn’t care, or there’s no getting through to him. I’m drained at this point. I just love him so much it hurts. He’s not wrong though.  I should let him leave with a clear head.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you walked over to him and gave him a tight hug and kiss. “Come back to me safe, papa.”

He wrapped his hand around your jaw, pulling you back to him, “Give me one more, mama.” Chuckling, you kissed him long and hard.

“If it’s not too late, call me on your way home. I’ll have your dinner warmed and ready when you get here. Love you, baby.”

Rio nodded his head, as he smacked your behind and pecked your forehead. He whispered in your ear, “I’m doing the best I can, mama.” With that, he made his departure.

 You showered and did your nightly routine. The next couple of hours were spent lying in bed thinking about your relationship. For months you had been trying to communicate that there were problems in and outside the bedroom. You were running out of ways to express that.

How many times can you beg someone to hear you? Why is it so hard to get him to show emotion? It’s not just a lack of intimacy. He’s not present. Even when he’s here, his mind is somewhere else. Yes, I know what I signed up for, but something’s got to give.

Letting out a sad sigh, you pushed the negative thoughts out of your mind. Just as you were about to close your eyes, a text came through. It was from an unknown number and the contents of the message made your heart shatter.

Part two in the works! Hope you enjoyed it lovelies🥰. Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated🥹💓.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Gif/Photo credit: @goldengunplay (gif in mood board).

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