#as long as its legal and healthy

[clownin44]

Good news, rarepairers and multishippers

[slashingdisneypasta]

My mum on my sister asking to get more piercings: Look at me, I'm perfectly pure. No piercings, no nothing. Hannah's pure, too, Look at h-

Me: Nope. No. Do not lump me in with that, thats gross. Nope.

Her: But you are!-

Me: Noooooope. Nope. Nope.

*she drops it and we all continue talking*

*2 minutes layer*

Her: Can I mention my pure ears again?-

Me: I'm out. *leaves*

[reasonsforhope]

"In short: Thailand's Senate has approved a bill legalising same sex marriage in the South-East Asian country.

It will afford same-sex couples practical benefits such as being able to have children through IVF and make emergency medical decisions for their spouse.

What's next? The first weddings may take place later this year, 120 days after the law is announced in the Royal Gazette.

Thailand has become the first nation in South-East Asia to legalise same sex marriage, with the country's Senate approving the landmark bill this afternoon.

The legislation was expected to pass after it cleared the country's House of Representatives in a near-unanimous vote in March.

Despite Thailand's bustling gay bars and prominent transgender community making it a mecca for LGBTQ+ tourists, until now local same-sex couples there have been unable to marry.

The law will take effect 120 days after its announcement in the Royal Gazette, so the first same sex weddings may take place later this year.

Couples who have been waiting years have hailed the move as a historic moment that will afford them rights only reserved for spouses.

A Lifechanging Law

Photos of Anticha and Worawan [including the article picture], dressed in floor-length white gowns and trailed by rainbow flags, getting married at Bangkok's first Pride Festival two years ago went viral, but they are still not legally married.

Now they will be able to change that, and Anticha Sangchai is elated.

"This will change my life and change many Thai people's lives, especially in the LGBT community," she said.

"It is a historical moment and I really want to join with my community to celebrate this moment.

"I want to send a message to the world that Thailand has changed. Even though there are still many issues, this is a big step for us." ...

There were an estimated 3.7 million LGBT people in Thailand in 2022, according to LGBT Capital, a private company which models economic data pertaining to the community around the world.

For the young couple from Bangkok, being able to marry also has very real practical implications.

If they want to have children through IVF, Ms Sangchai says they will need a marriage certificate first.

"I am quite concerned about the time because we are getting older every day, and the older you get the more difficult it is to have a healthy pregnancy," she said.

"So we've been really wanting this law to pass as soon as possible."

Cabaret performer Jena is excited Thailand's laws are finally catching up with the nation's image...

She too had worried about the practical implications of being unable to marry.

"For example, if myself or my partner had to go to hospital or there was an accident that needs consent for an emergency operation, without a marriage certificate we couldn't sign it," she said.

She now wants the government to move forward with a law to allow transgender people to amend their gender on official documents." ...

An Economic Boost?

Thailand has long been famous for LGBTQ tourism and there are now hopes this new law could allow the country to cash in on the aging members of the community.

Chaiwat Songsiriphan, who runs a health clinic for people in the LGBTQ community, said laws preventing same sex marriage were the last barrier holding the country back from becoming a gay retirement hub.

[Note: They do not just mean for rich westerners; Thailand as a gay retirement hub would probably appeal most to and definitely benefit LGBTQ people from throughout Asia.]

"Thailand has an LGBTQ-friendly environment since Thai culture is quite flexible," he said.

"One of my foreigner friends, a gay friend, told me that when he's in his country he has to pretend to be straight … but when he comes to Bangkok he said you can be as gay as you want.

"When we talk about retirement or a long-term stay for the rest of their lives, what people need is … food, good healthcare services, transportation, homes.

"I think Thailand has it all at a very affordable price."

He said it could help give the country a desperately needed economic boost.

"This will have a lot of benefits for Thailand's economy because when we talk about retirement it's people literally bringing all the money they have earned for the rest of their working lives to spend and invest here," he said.

He said he, like the rest of the community, was thrilled by the news.

"It's not about a privilege, it's just equality," he said.

"We are we also humans, so we should be able to marry the one we love.""

-via ABC Australia, June 18, 2024

[natjennie]

okay, bear with me this requires a lot of context. imagine that you wake up on a space ship with an alien species capable of telepathic communication with you. they are also capable of instilling you with the knowledge that everything they say is completely true, there is not a hint of uncertainty in your mind. they have weapons capable of obliterating earth pointed at the planet, and are forcing you to do one of two things in order to not fire. within the fiction of the scenario you are not being given the choice, but you the real you is picking which one of these things you'd rather have happen.

you must eat an 8 ounce serving of human baby meat, by default prepared like a steak (different preparations can be requested). you do not have to keep the meat down once you're done, but you have to get all of it in your body at one point. they do not provide any information about where the baby came from or how it died. if you complete this, they will deposit you back on earth and you will be free from legal repercussions of cannibalism, and it is generally agreed that you are also free from moral blame as it was against your will.

you will be surgically impregnated with a human embryo and must carry it to term and give birth. the embryo does not contain your dna, but otherwise you don't know anything about its origins. the aliens have advanced medical technology that gives you sufficient anatomy to carry and birth the baby, and keeps you healthy throughout, with no risk of long term complications or death. you have the choice to keep or give away the baby once you have given birth, and will be deposited back on earth.

if you refuse to comply in either situation, they destroy the earth and you are forced to live the rest of your life aboard the space ship as a prisoner, until you die of natural causes.

so,

[decolonize-the-everything]

Article from July 27, 2022

Party representatives have claimed it’s because they want to highlight the extremism of today’s GOP, knowing that even candidates who are running as “moderates” will feel pressure to appeal to voters on their right flank. They have denied that it’s with the intent of making extremist candidates more appealing to a Republican primary base and because they think it will be easier to beat those kinds of opponents in November.

But that’s what it looks like to some Democratic operatives, who have mixed reviews of that strategy. Some think it’s too dangerous and that it could lead to some of those extremist candidates actually getting elected. Democratic strategist Howard Wolfson told Politico that the strategy of “putting people into positions where they may actually get elected and have control over the election system in this country — people who don’t believe in democracy — is a very, very risky strategy.”

Article from May 31, 2022

Diane Murray struggled with her decision all the way up to Election Day. But when the time came, the 54-year-old Georgia Democrat cast a ballot in last week’s Republican primary for Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger. While state law allowed her to participate in either party’s primary, she said it felt like a violation of her core values to vote for the Republican. But it had to be done, she decided, to prevent a Donald Trump -backed “election denier” from becoming the battleground state’s election chief. “I feel strongly that our democracy is at risk, and that people who are holding up the big lie, as we call it, and holding onto the former president are dangerous to democracy,” said Murray, who works at the University of Georgia. “I don’t know I’ll do it again because of how I felt afterward. I just felt icky.”

Raffensperger, a conservative who refused to support the former president’s direct calls to overturn the 2020 election, probably would not have won the May 24 Republican primary without people like Murray. An Associated Press analysis of early voting records from data firm L2 found that more than 37,000 people who voted in Georgia’s Democratic primary two years ago cast ballots in last week’s Republican primary, an unusually high number of so-called crossover voters

Article from August 28, 2024

The lawsuit, filed before a state judge in Atlanta, argues the rules violate a state law that makes certification a mandatory duty. The suit asks the judge to find the rules are invalid because the State Election Board, now dominated by allies of former President Donald Trump, is exceeding its legal authority.

The actions of the board alarm Democrats and voting rights activists, playing out against Georgia's background of partisan struggles over voting procedures that predates even the 2020 presidential election. It's a battle in yet another state over what had long been an administrative afterthought: state and local boards certifying results.

Just another day of totally healthy and fair elections and their outcomes thanks to Democrat's inability to stop literally sponsoring and platforming Trump supporters with their party's funds.

Yeah, that $81 million Kamala raised in a day?

This is most definitely what she's using it for.

And they think our rights are worth the win. The house fucking speaker said it herself in 2022

But hey at least democrats are doing this to us right

At least Trump didn't say he wanted us to have the most lethal military on earth, right? If HE said it'd be bad. But with Kamala it's fine.

Four years later, the DNC sounds a lot different, reflecting how public opinion toward immigration in general has soured as concerns over how secure the border is have risen. Gone are the heartfelt testimonies from undocumented immigrants, the repudiation of Trump-era policies, and the calls for better treatment of migrants and expansion of asylum protections. Instead, Wednesday evening’s speakers embraced tougher policies for asylum seekers, praised President Joe Biden’s attempts to negotiate a bipartisan border security bill, and conceded the changed reality of immigration politics since the pandemic’s dawn. In other words, Democrats’ speeches on immigration and the border were drastically different than the ones at the conventions of 2012, 2016, or 2020 — because reality and the public’s feelings have changed drastically too.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - June 26, 2023

1. California's Lake Oroville now at 100% capacity following megadrought; 1st time since 2019

Once a stark example of the drastic effects of California's yearslong megadrought, Lake Oroville has rebounded and is once again filled to capacity, data from the state's Department of Water Resources shows.

Lake Oroville, the state's most beleaguered and second-largest reservoir, is at 100% of its total capacity and 127% of where it should be around this time of year - a huge boost after the climate-change-fueled megadrought sucked away nearly all its water supply.

2. Blue whales are thriving in California waters – the story of their amazing comeback

If you’ve recently taken a Southern California whale-watching tour, you may have been lucky enough to come across earth’s largest animal. Pacific blue whales grow up to 110 feet long and can reach a weight of 200 tons. Decades ago, blue whales were nearly hunted to extinction, and although still listed as protected under the Endangered Species Act, marine biologists and researchers are heralding a “conservation success story,” unlike any other.

According to a study published in 2014 by researchers at the University of Washington, the West Coast blue whale population has bounced back at tremendous levels, recouping 97% of its pre-whaling population

3. Newborn left in Florida Safe Haven Baby Box adopted by the firefighter who found her

Zoey is now 5 months old. Courtesy Zoey's family

A firefighter in Ocala, Florida, was pulling an overnight shift at the station in January when he was awakened at 2 a.m. by an alarm. He recognized the sound immediately. A newborn had been placed in the building’s Safe Haven Baby Box, a device that allows someone to safely and anonymously surrender a child — no questions asked.

“To be honest, I thought it was a false alarm,” said the firefighter, who wished to remain anonymous to protect his family’s privacy. But when he opened the box, he discovered a healthy infant wrapped in a pink blanket.

That baby would become his daughter, Zoey.

4. Iceland suspends whale hunt on animal welfare concerns

Iceland's government said Tuesday it was suspending this year's whale hunt until the end of August due to animal welfare concerns, likely bringing the controversial practice to a historic end.

"I have taken the decision to suspend whaling" until August 31, Food Minister Svandis Svavarsdottir said in a statement. The country's last remaining whaling company, Hvalur, had previously said this would be its final season as the hunt has become less profitable.

5. He wanted to pet dogs for his 100th birthday. Hundreds lined up.

Alison Moore had a unique idea to celebrate her father's 100th birthday: a pet parade filled with as many dogs as possible. Her father, Robert Moore, has always adored dogs and wanted to pet every one he saw. So, Alison took to social media and invited the community to join in the festivities. Little did she know that over 200 dogs and their owners would gather for the heartwarming event.

The parade brought immense joy not only to Robert but also to attendees like Rodger, who has Alzheimer's disease, and his daughter Denise, who hadn't seen her father smile so much in a long time. It was a day filled with wagging tails, smiling faces, and love that made Robert's milestone birthday an unforgettable celebration.

6. Historic decision: Estonia legalizes same-sex marriage

Tuesday, the Estonian government has survived a vote of no confidence in the Riigikogu tied to amendments to the Family Law Act and related legislation, which is granting same-sex couples the legal right to wed. 55 members of the Riigikogu voted in favor of the measure, while 34 voted against.

It is proposed that the institution of marriage, as defined by family law, be modified so that  any two natural persons of legal age, regardless of gender, may marry. The words "man and woman" will be replaced with the words "two natural persons."

7. US approves chicken made from cultivated cells, the nation's first 'lab-grown' meat

For the first time, U.S. regulators on Wednesday approved the sale of chicken made from animal cells, allowing two California companies to offer “lab-grown” meat to the nation’s restaurant tables and eventually, supermarket shelves.

The Agriculture Department gave the green light to Upside Foods and Good Meat, firms that had been racing to be the first in the U.S. to sell meat that doesn’t come from slaughtered animals — what’s now being referred to as “cell-cultivated” or “cultured” meat as it emerges from the laboratory and arrives on dinner plates.

----

That's it for this week :)

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[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 7

Part 6

It took Damian the rest of the afternoon to prepare for his trip to Amity Park. Jon helpfully agreed to cover for him, on the promise of a copy of the upcoming Cheese Viking 2 and getting filled in on all the hot Bat gossip afterwards. Wasn’t friendship grand?

Pennyworth thankfully agreed that ‘bonding time’ between the Super Sons was a good use of fall break and even took the time to ‘Prepare some healthy snacks for the young Masters, lest you eat junk food the whole week’. The task also handily distracted the butler while Damian packed the Batwing with all the necessary surveillance equipment he would need and set up the program to spoof his flight data. Damian had no doubt that Father wouldn’t be fooled for long, but with the Bat it was always better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

The flight to Illinois was mercifully uneventful. Damian rappelled off in the middle of the eponymous city Park, then instructed the autopilot to take the plane to a wooded area outside city limits and park there in camouflage mode. Once he was sure his arrival had gone undetected, he changed into civvies and with his backpack full of gear set off in the direction of Fenton Works on foot. In jeans, sneakers, a dark hoodie and a baseball cap he looked like any other kid his age, even if he was out after curfew. Damian made sure to stick to the shadows and ducked behind cover whenever a car passed him.

All in all it took him until the early morning hours to arrive at the correct address. Intellectually, he had known the Fentons operated their workshop out of the family home, but he was in no way prepared for the monstrosity of a building that greeted him. Damian couldn’t help but stop and stare in disbelief.

What had once started out as an ordinary brownstone building had a glaring neon sign out front, proudly proclaiming the company name. Perched precariously on the roof was a gigantic metal structure that looked like a cross between a cartoon UFO and an observatory. There was no way this was legal or sane. If something like this had popped up in Gotham it would have been flagged as a Rogue hideout and bugged to hell and back. Hell, Damian was half tempted to break in immediately to start planting cameras but was held back by the likely presence of a custom security system. Mad scientists were rude like that and Damian didn’t want to tip his hand too early. He would have to at least wait until he was sure the Fentons weren’t at home.

Damian tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and strolled past the building at a fake casual pace. The windows were dark and the building was silent, except for the faint hum of the neon sign. This early on a Saturday morning, the residents were likely fast asleep. He spotted an electric scooter chained up next to the stairs leading up to the entrance and made the deduction that it likely belonged to Daniel. Under the guise of retying his shoelaces, he dropped to one knee and surreptitiously attached a bug to the vehicle. Ideally he would get the opportunity to bug Daniel himself, but for now this would have to do. Hoping that no one had noticed him, Damian continued down the street.

He had researched the area ahead of time and had found an apartment a few buildings down and across the street that was advertised as available for rent and was unoccupied. Breaking in and disabling the home alarm was child’s play, and after making sure he was alone in the apartment, Damian settled in to begin his surveillance.

He pulled the handheld radiation detector out of his backpack and after making sure it was operational he slipped it into his pocket. With no way to boost its range he would have to get pretty close to Daniel with no major obstructions in the way in order to verify if he had been in contact with the marked bills he had slipped Phantom. But Damian was confident in his ability to stay undetected. After all, Daniel had no reason to suspect he was being stalked by a curious Bat.

Damian kept himself occupied by listening to the local radio broadcast over his comm. The hosts sounded like chipper twenty-somethings, excitedly shilling for various local events happening over fall break, in-between shilling for local businesses. Why anyone would want to eat at an establishment called the Nasty Burger was beyond Damian. Whenever they stopped nattering to play actual music it was a blessing even if the appeal of the songs was entirely lost on the young vigilante. Finally, at 8am they had an actual news segment. Most of it was covering major US and global events, nothing Damian hadn’t already heard. Elections, natural disasters, rising tensions in Bialya…

“...and in local news, the City Library has announced that clean-up after last week’s ghost attack is finished, and they will be open at their normal hours on Monday!” the female host said cheerily, as if she was talking about the weather. “As usual, we would like to remind our listeners to keep their third eyes peeled for any ghost sightings! In case of a ghost attack, follow standard protocol and head to your nearest ghost shelter. Thank you! And here’s Mark with sports!”

Damian was flabbergasted. Ghost attack? This city experienced supernatural incursions and treated it like it was a normal occurrence? He’d read that the Fentons were ghost hunters, but he hadn’t thought anyone was taking them seriously! If Amity Park was under attack on a regular basis, how come the Justice League didn’t have a file on the city? Surely the news should have leaked to the outside world by now!

It was rare that Damian was caught so utterly wrong footed. His cursory research into Amity Park had turned up nothing like this! He was itching to get back to the Batcomputer to do a deep dive on the city and its history. Unfortunately, all he had on him was his phone which was ill suited for serious data compilation. At best he could scour local news sites and social media for any hint as to what was going on.

After half an hour of fruitless searching, he gave up in disgust. There was no mention of ghosts anywhere, save for the Fentons’ own website. Yet the news report had been almost blasé about the subject! Something was rotten in the State of Illinois.

All he could do for now was stare out the window at the Fenton’s front porch and hope his quarry made an appearance soon.

At 9.13 AM there was finally movement at the Fenton house. A dark-haired teenager in jeans, a light T-shirt, a backpack and a bicycle helmet bounded down the front steps and unlocked the electric scooter. It was unmistakably Daniel.

Damian hurriedly packed away his things, grabbed his backpack and left the apartment. He made sure to rearm the security system and lock the door, leaving no trace of ever having been there. Of course Damian wasn’t about to pursue his target across the rooftops of an unknown city in broad daylight. He would just have to wait for Daniel to arrive at his destination and follow him there. He retrieved his phone and pulled up the tracking data. It looked like the teen was headed towards the city center.

Damian tuned his comm to the listening device he had planted and set off towards downtown Amity at a light jog. For a while, all he heard was background noise. After about ten minutes, Daniel came to a stop.

“Hey Tucker, ready to go?” That had to be Daniel.

“Hey Danny!” a second male voice answered, “I was just waiting for you. Sam says she’ll meet us at the main entrance of the mall.”

“Sweet. Hopefully we can grab something cool from Game’O’Rama if we beat the rush.”

“You said it, my dude. Come on!”

The tracker resumed its movement. Now that he had a destination, Damian used his phone to call a cab. There couldn’t be that many malls in a city this size.

Daniel and his friend ‘Tucker’ kept up a steady stream of idle chatter on their journey. Damian learned more than he ever wanted to know about the attractive qualities of the female students at their high school, the tediousness of the homework assignments they had received for the week and the reviews of recent horror movie releases. Inconsequential chit chat as far as Damian was concerned. Once the pair arrived at their destination they parked their scooters and were soon out of range of the listening device. Damian cut the transmission and spent the rest of the short cab ride trying to find information on Daniel’s companion. Since they were apparently classmates and he had a first name to go on, it didn’t take long to narrow it down to Tucker Foley. Damian made a mental note to investigate him in depth later.

The mall was moderately busy when he arrived but nowhere near as bad as Gotham. Luckily there was a floorplan displayed at the entrance and it didn’t take Damian long to find the Game’O’Rama store. Predictably, it was dedicated to video games, gaming accessories and memorabilia. A sign in the window announced a major weekend sale, likely what had drawn Daniel and his companions. Damian slipped on a pair of mirrored sunglasses to conceal his eyes and meandered into the store. Wandering between the aisles, pretending to examine the games on offer, it didn’t take him long to find his quarry and Damian got his first good look at the trio.

Daniel was almost a head taller than Damian, slightly paler and with his dark hair mussed up from the scooter ride earlier. His clothes were slightly threadbare, and not the kind that was intentional. His white T-shirt bore a faded NASA logo and his jeans were frayed at the cuffs. He had dark circles under his eyes, though not nearly as bad as Drake got when he was on a case. Nonetheless, for the moment he seemed cheerful and at ease. He was examining the back of a disk case.

“I don’t know Tuck, I’m not much for medieval fantasy,” he said amusedly, “and a lot of these monsters look like ghosts we’ve seen. I get enough of them on a day to day basis, I don’t need them in my video games too.”

Again, this talk of ghosts.

The African American male next to Daniel had to be Tucker Foley. He was just a few inches shorter than Daniel, with his hair in shoulder length dreadlocks partially covered by a red beret. A matching red T-shirt with white Atari logo and baggy camo pants screamed nerd even before you got close enough to notice the black rimmed glasses and the clunky looking device he was tapping away on. Where did he get it from, the middle-ages?

“Look, the reviews are pretty great, and if we avoid everything ghost related what’s even left?” the boy argued, “You can’t let ghosts ruin your fun, man.”

“Tucker’s right, Danny.” the third member of their group chimed in. She was dressed head to toe in black, with a sheer, lacy top, a knee-length skirt, fishnet gloves and stockings and a pair of combat boots. With the thick soles giving her added height, she was almost as tall as Daniel. She wore eerily pale foundation making her dark purple lipstick and eyeshadow pop out even more. She had a small nose stud with a matching purple stone. Her earrings were shaped like spiders dangling from a web and she wore a pentagram necklace. Damian knew some of his schoolmates belonged to the goth subculture, but Gotham Academy’s dress code heavily limited such self-expression on campus. He guessed this girl was either really dedicated to the style or really dedicated to pissing off her parents. Maybe both.This had to be ‘Sam’.

“Besides, if Technus couldn’t ruin gaming for us no one else should either!” she continued.

“Fiiiiine,” Daniel sighed, clearly playing up his reluctance. “but if Amity gets attacked by an army of goblins next I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’!” He double checked the price tag. “Splitsies?”

The girl scoffed and plucked the case from his hand. “I’ll take this one, you can pay for lunch later. Why don’t you two go ahead to Pineapple Republic for those jeans you wanted? I’ll catch up to you.”

“If you’re sure. Thanks Sam!” Daniel leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I guess we’ll see you there.”

“Yeah, thanks Sam.”

“Go on, shoo!” she laughed and headed over to the cash register as the boys left the store. Making a split second decision, Damian grabbed a random game from the shelf and got in line behind Sam. He leaned slightly towards her, pretending to examine the figurines behind the counter and stealthily stuck a bug to her skirt. Now he could listen in on their conversation without having to risk being noticed.

After paying for his purchase he wandered off in the direction the other teens had taken. He would just have to leave the game somewhere ‘accidentally’ at the earliest opportunity. Pretending to check his phone he tuned his comm to the frequency of the new bug. 

“...I think those are still a little short on you.” Sam said amusedly.

“Man, I’m glad I finally got my growth spurt, but having to replace most of my wardrobe is gonna be a pain in the ass!” Daniel complained.

“Look at it this way Danny, this could be your chance to branch out. A whole new style, a whole new you!” Sam countered enthusiastically.

Damian walked towards the source of the signal. He didn’t follow the trio directly into Pineapple Republic, instead heading into the shoe store across from the clothing store. Browsing there would let him keep an eye on the entrance.

“Let me guess, would this style include black, black and more black?” came Foley’s snarky voice.

“Black is timeless, I’ll have you know,” Sam sniffed in mock offense, “and Danny does look good in it. Just try it?”

“I don’t know Sam, I don’t wanna blow my allowance on clothes that don’t feel like me.”

“Oh! We could always try the thrift store, they have plenty of cool stuff! And upcycling is great for the environment.”

“Uh, hard pass,” came the flat reply, “I would like to survive the year with some of my dignity intact, please.”

“Yeah dude, if Dash and his cronies caught wind of Danny going to Goodwill or something they’d never let him live it down.”

“There is nothing wrong with buying second-hand!”

“Says the girl in $500 guaranteed cruelty free designer boots.” Foley shot back.

“That’s different!” Sam sputtered, “And besides, I don’t see why you still chase the approval of those jerks.”

“Easy guys, settle down,” Daniel said placatingly, “Sam, you know it’s different for us. You might be able to brush off Paulina’s snarky comments, but I can’t just brush off Dash trying to rearrange my face. I’d rather not paint an even bigger target on my back.”

Sam gave a loud sigh. “Ugh, stupid high school politics. I can’t wait to graduate.”

“I dunno, if things go according to plan you’ll have to deal with real politics, Ms Future Administrator of the EPA Manson.” Daniel teased.

“You mean Senator Manson.” Foley chimed in.

“Madam President Manson!”

“Stop it guys!” the girl laughed, “I’ll leave the political ass kissing to someone else. I just want to save the planet! But I gotta get my doctorate first.”

“Well if you do end up having to take over the country to do it, there’s one thing to keep in mind,” Foley said sagely, “You can’t be much worse than President Luthor.”

The two replied with fake gagging noises while Foley just snickered.

“But seriously, since you brought up mixing up my style… I was thinking of getting my ears pierced.” Daniel said hesitantly.

“Really? Ooh, do you want studs? Danglers? An industrial?” Sam gushed excitedly.

“Well… aw nuts.” Daniel’s voice was suddenly tense.

“You know what?” Sam rushed out, equally tense, “I think you should go and try these pants on. In the changing room. Right now.”

Damian frowned. What the hell had happened? He glanced out the shop window but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly, he heard distant screams and the sound of glass breaking. It’s almost like being back in Gotham.

Part 8

[zorosbeau33]

Courting Gifts~ One Piece Omegaverse Headcanon Part 2!

Starring: Zoro and Law! x gender neutral reader Genre: Fluff, sfw AU: Omegaverse, Omega Reader Wc: 1480 TW: Mentions of battle All Characters here are legal age or older in my au~ Masterlist~ Part 1~

He gives laid-back alpha vibes. He kinda has to be in order to keep up with Luffy and stand up beside him as right hand.

He was super subtle, SUPER Subtle! He didn’t want anything to change, but at the same time he wanted you to know he’s there and he cares.

It's small things because he’s fine loving you without the return. Just stay healthy and safe for him thats all he wants…and to see your smile sometimes aimed his way

It started at first with small things, handing you a cold drink when it's a scorching day outside. 

Gently tying your hair up for you with a hair tye thats the color of his haramaki/or slipping a beanie over your head in that color if your hair is short to take care of you in cold weather

Offering you to try his precious Sake, yes you alone have that privilege 

You want sword fighting lessons? He offers them quietly one night while the others are busy. He is barely suppressing the purrs as he gets to hold you, adjust your grip and teach you the motions by holding you within his very muscled arms.

Quality time is huge for him, that's his way of spoiling you

He gets you a cute dangly earring in his shades of green, maybe a tassel, maybe a teardrop on a thin chain, maybe a carved jade flower whatever it is. He spent weeks searching for it as he wanted to ensure it’d be something you’d like

There are the other things though. A pair of his gloves on a winter island end up in your possession. 

You have so many of his shirts when did this start? You don’t know but he always has a tiny smirky smile when he sees you wear one.

If he happens upon a snack he think you’d like he buys it while lost. Gives it to you like its nothing but his ears are red. “Here for you.” And then tries to walk away. He doesn’t want or need you to say thank you, he actually gets a bit (very) flustered and tries to leave quickly if you do try to thank him and gets defensive and pouty if you try to tease him about it 

The bookmark you had looked at in the store when you were getting him unlost? Suddenly appears in your book on a bench in the Thousand Sunny with his scent lingering all around

Zoro isn’t into extravagant things, especially not presents. He just doesn’t see the point (unless you want a sword that he is gungho for). He does buy you any nesting things if you say you need them.

Personally however he would prefer to be your nest. He loves taking naps so to have you biscuit his chest and the blanket he’d scented for you, while you both take a well deserved rest? He is all for this, both before and after you get together. Warning though you will always have at least one of his arms wrapped around you. Even in his sleep he’s watchful when it comes to you, ready to draw a sword and protect you

He has a small book that he has sketched some drawings of your face with painstaking detail. 

Once he’s over you knowing about his top secret hobby, he would be honored and flustered to design you a tattoo if you wanted. It's in his traditional style very Japanese traditional painting style but he’d work so hard on it for you.

Is a sucker for anything with your scent. He doesn’t mind wether you smell of him too much. But he is always secretly longing to have your touch, your taste, your scent burned into his soul. It makes him miss you less, and it keeps him calm.

Would be the crew member to bring home a little kitten for you if you were ever down (he had to beg Nami for permission, and promised to clean up after it). Just one, only ever the one kitten. But he makes sure its taken care of best he can to his knowledge including getting Chopper to check its health over before he gifts the sweet and goofy thing to you.

The kitten like him has a scar and recalling how gentle you were with him he decides out of all the lucious cats, this scrappy little kitten would be the perfect first child for you both to raise.

Not super attached to it at first. Honestly he often gets frustrated while ship breaking the kitten but over time and with your help to learn how to understand its actions. He is almost as protective over that fluff ball as he is you.

Heres a secret follow the cat and you’ll find Zoro, any island any time follow the cat. It knows how to find him everytime

Zoro courting gifts may not be numerous but each of them had meaning and its clear to anyone just how much thought he puts into each one

THIS MAN RIGHT HERE-He’s an alpha, a broody secretly unsure alpha

Absolutely finds the concept of courting gifts to be blown out of proportion. Why are they spending thousands (or in Do Flamingos case Billions) of Berry’s on gifts that have little practical use.

He’s to methodical and detached sometimes for his own good. So his first few gifts to you may have actually been from Bepo/Schachi/Penguin…And boy was he mad.

After they explained they couldnt stand watching him pine without acting on it, and that he was disrespecting you as an alpha and as a Super Nova by not taking care of your courting needs at least. Law relents 

His gifts are never tacky, or wasteful though he is drawing a firm line from the start, the submarine is not a hoarding zone and he’s going to keep it that way and take care of you at the same time.

The first few gifts that are actually from him he hands to you himself “You need these for your nest ya?” 

Law put hours, upon hours of research into the best pillows to use for an omega nest. He wanted to ensure they’d support you properly and not cause any muscle or bone strain. Silly but endearing 

The blankets are thick fluffy and super soft, yes they have the Jolly Roger on it, or are the same pattern as his hat, but it is because he internally wants to lay a little bit of his claim on you even in a place he feels he can’t go (until you invite him, he respects your nest as sacred and has protected it from others even before this. No Penguin pranks allowed to your nest)

He is not hug on giving you his clothes, mainly because he feels he is working hard to supply you with nice clothes to wear and he can scent those (and you in the process) so why do you need his things?

This does not apply and goes right out the window when he’s feeling possessive.

He’s jealous by nature and hugely distrustful. Someone’s flirting with you? Suddenly his jacket is wrapped around your shoulder and he is GLARING. Or during soft cuddle times with him and Bepo he puts his jacket/blanket/hat on you and holds you close to his heart. Yes he likes to pretend you moved into him, but he does pull you in 

Other “practical gifts” are any book he thinks you’d enjoy. Literature (even to his own chagrin fantasy) is never a waste…not of Berries and not of space on the ship. 

He makes space on his bookshelf for you to have your own row, even if you are not a big reader it's just one of the ways he makes space for you in his life to show you he’s ready for you to be in it even more

If he wants to be a brat (of course it's to piss off Cap’n Kidd) he would then buy you flashy presents. Not too many just enough to tell the other Supernova to fuck off and that he knows you better because while they are baubles they still have practical use! And they are things you instantly love! He’s so smug about your happiness and just the biggest broody tsundere alpha mate. 

If you ever did want something not practical but didn’t ask him because you know his rule, he might relent on his decision if he is there at the time you see it. The look of longing on your face and how you are respecting his wishes and self-set guidelines…he might just buy it to surprise you. 

Leaving it on the pillow beside you when he gets up in the morning to go to work. He can't help it, he loves you 

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3720

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

4. Cake Doughnuts (shitty non-doughnuts)

This is not the way Mary expected her life to go. Divorced at 29, probably unemployed, and now declared mentally incompetent and legally attached to some stranger? Ew.

At least when the cops had dragged her into the ER, she’d been drunk still. But she’s sobered up a lot since then, and ever more so during the drive from the hospital to back to Brooklyn. It’s the most awkward car ride of her life. Steve’s the one who drives. Mary doesn’t know why that surprises her, but it does. And he’s the one who leads the way into their building and up the stairs. It’s an older building with character but no elevator, so they make the three story climb on foot. Another resounding Ew.

Mary walks silently around Bucky’s (and Steve’s—because of course he’s gay and married) apartment, feeling shy and hesitant and all the things she just really doesn’t want to be feeling right now. She stops when she gets to the second bedroom, stares at its pristinely tucked-in sheets and neutral tableau.

“You can bring over any stuff you need from your place,” Steve is saying gently from behind her, where he and Bucky are lingering in the hallway. “It’ll be your room. We won’t bother you in there.”

She whips around. “How long do I have to stay here?” Better to figure it out now. Make a plan. She glares at Bucky, since he’s the one in charge of this disaster. “I’m not staying here forever.” Steve looks even sadder at her words than Bucky does, kind of like a kicked puppy. It’s disconcerting, so Mary keeps her attention on Bucky instead, forcing herself to make eye contact. “Well?”

“Until I feel like it’s safe and healthy for you to be on your own,” he says, not a hint of sympathy in his tone. That’s disappointing, and it pisses Mary the hell off.

“Screw you,” she says, not particularly loudly, but definitely full of all the contempt she feels for this guy. “You think you can just—”

He’s got her pushed up against the wall faster than she can track with her eyes. One second she’s standing feet away from him, and the next she just … isn’t. He’s in her space and against her body, one hand at the base of her throat and a thigh pressing forward, holding her to the wall. It’s terrifying and shocking and …

“Oh I know ‘I can just’,” he says darkly.

… She’d rather eat glass than tell him what else it is. “Let go of me,” she grits out.

Disappointingly, he does. Steve is just standing there like a big idiot, blinking wide eyes at the scene. Bucky takes a full step back from her and says, “Don’t curse at me, Mary. It’s disrespectful.”

She wants to ask him exactly what he’s done to earn any respect from her. She grinds the words into her teeth instead while Bucky watches her knowingly. She hates that look almost as much as she hates the way he says her name, as if he’s known her for years rather than a millisecond.

“House rules,” he says calmly. “The practicalities of what’s going to happen. We should discuss that, don’t you think?”

Steve places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, comes up beside him and wraps an arm around his waist in a way that reminds Mary that the two are a couple. “Hey,” he says softly, speaking in Bucky’s ear. “Why don’t we let her get some rest before you go asserting your dominance, huh?” Mary wrinkles her nose at the word, and Steve regards her kindly. “You’ve gotta be tired,” he says. “You want to sleep?”

Bucky looks like he’ll protest, so Mary nods quickly. “Yeah. Yeah I’m tired.”

She watches as Steve squeezes his husband’s shoulder. “Come on, Babe. Let’s leave her to get some rest. She’s been up all night.”

Suddenly, Mary realizes that she has been up all night, and it’s almost comical, how fast the exhaustion hits her. Her throat starts to ache with a yawn that she fights not to let out in front of them. “Yeah,” she says again, this time thinking less about Bucky and what he wants or doesn’t want, and more about the bed that Steve said was reserved for her. She remembers that she feels like absolute shit, and probably looks it, too. “M’gonna sleep,” she says, turning away from both of them and heading for the bed.

The door ‘snicks’ shut softly behind her, and she assumes it was Steve who closed it. The two men's muffled voices fade off down the hallway, and even though it’s probably naïve to trust them so easily, Mary believes what Steve said about them not bothering her in this room.

She collapses on the bed that is exactly as soft as it looks. The sheets are tucked with military precision and smell like no one’s ever used them before. Mary grinds her face into the cool pillows and briefly wonders if Steve and Bucky have never had any company over to use this bed, before falling into one of the deadest sleeps of her life.

She wakes up feeling much, much better. Steve and Bucky’s guest bedroom has an en-suite, so she goes in and does her best to freshen up with the toiletries she finds stocked there.

There are three Advil Liqui-gel capsules sitting on the bedside table when she comes out. Mary regards them sharply and glances back to the door, but it’s still closed, no sign of life heard from outside in the hallway. Either the pills were there earlier and she just didn’t notice them, or else Steve is a lot stealthier than he looks. Twisting her lips, she scoops the pills up and tosses them back to fend off the headache she can already feel brewing behind her temples. 

A quick search of the room’s dresser drawers yields nothing, and she’s forced to face the fact that she’s going to have to do this confrontation dressed in only her huge tee shirt from the night before. No matter, she thinks, squaring her shoulders and reaching for the doorknob. She’s got a new strategy in mind.

“I’m sorry,” she says, when she ventures out to find Bucky and Steve sitting in the living room.

Steve reaches for the remote to mute the tv, and Bucky sits back with a doughnut that he’s just plucked from a box on the coffee table. He bites into it, looking only vaguely interested "Want one?"

She spares a glance at the box. "Are they yeasted?"

"What's that mean?" Steve asks.

Another glance reveals that they're not, and Mary turns her nose up at them. "It means you're eating shitty, overbaked cake, not a doughnut," she says snottily.

Steve just blinks and looks back at the box with a little frown. Bucky takes another huge bite of his doughnut and chews it, maintaining eye contact with her and speaking around his mouthful, "Weren't you sorry for something?"

Mary purses her lips and starts over with her contrition act. “Yes. Look, I know you guys are just trying to help me. And I know I probably seem like such a hot mess to you right now.”

“Cause you are,” Bucky drawls.

Mary quells the urge to go over there and slap the doughnut straight out of his hands. That won’t help her with this new strategy she’s decided on. ‘Honey versus vinegar’, and all that. “Yeah,” she says instead. “So I’ll admit, my life hasn’t been going very well lately. And I really did need some help.” She forces herself to give Bucky a friendly smile. “So I’m glad you were willing to step in and help me. Thank you.” Bucky is looking at her way, way too unimpressed, and Mary squirms in place, thinking that he should be looking happier at what she’s just said. “Well?” she says.

He chews another bite of doughnut for a solid five seconds, swallows, then says, “How much did it hurt you to spit that out?”

She scowls. “I was trying to be nice.”

“Mm hm.” He pats the couch beside himself in a clear invitation. “Come sit down. Have a doughnut.”

She’s obeying before she even thinks about it, though at least she has the sense to take a seat on Steve’s side of the L-shaped sectional, and not Bucky’s. “I’m not hungry,” she says, just as her stomach gives a small growl.

“Well clearly that’s a lie,” Steve chuckles. 

Mary glances over at him, peeved, but decidedly less so than she is at Bucky. Steve just seems less … threatening, maybe. Whatever it is, Mary pushes it from her mind.

“Look, I’ll stick around for a few hours or something if you really want to make sure I’m okay,” she says, attention back on Bucky, because she can already tell that he’s the one she’s got to convince. “But then I have to get back to my apartment.” She sees Bucky’s expression shutter at this and quickly adds, “I understand that you’re responsible for me, temporarily, technically. And I appreciate what you’ve done. I don’t want to cause you guys any more trouble than I already have. I’m going to take steps to take better care of myself now. And we can … we can keep in touch if you want. Just so you don’t ... you know … worry.” By the end of her speech she’s lost confidence, as she can see from Bucky’s expression that this is not being received well.

"Is that all?" he asks, eyebrow arched.

“Bucky,” she complains, floundering. “Come on. This isn’t … I mean you can’t just, adopt me, or whatever. I’m not some stray dog. You don’t even know me!"

He nods. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t.”

For one brief, overly-optimistic moment, she thinks that she’s actually going to get out of it that easy.

“But I’ll get to know you. Because you’re not leaving here anytime soon, Honey.”

All of that optimism tanks straight into a sour pit of disappointment. Mary shoots up to standing, startling Steve a bit where he's reaching for the doughnut box. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps.

Bucky takes another smug fucking bite out of his doughnut. “What?” he asks. “‘Honey’?”

“Yes! I’m not your ‘Honey’. I’m not your anything.”

He licks the sugar off his lips and stares her down. “You like it when I call you that.”

“No, I hate it,” she sneers. “Just like I hate your smug, self-satisfied face. I hate men like you.”

Bucky relaxes further back into the sofa, gesturing at her with the last of the doughnut before he stuffs it in his mouth and eats it. “Men like me, huh?” he asks once he’s swallowed, infuriating in his nonchalance. 

“Yes.”

He chuckles and starts sucking his fingers clean one by one. “And what would that be?” he drawls, letting his legs splay wide on the couch cushions, thigh muscles straining against the denim of his jeans. He sees her getting distracted and hums. “Hm? Pray tell, Little girl. Do enlighten me. What are 'men like me' like?” 

For one, airless second, all Mary wants in the world is to drop to her knees right between his legs, put her face at the seam of his jeans and rub her cheek against his thigh, against his … 

Her thoughts go unfocused, fuzzy at the edges, static in her brain. She licks her lips absentmindedly, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of how he’s positioned himself …

“Mary.”

The sound of her own name draws her out of it, like a slap. She meets his eyes and juts her chin out, half dizzy from the effort. “Men like you think they know everything,” she grits. “Think that they’re the end-all-be-all. Men like you don’t feel any compunction about stepping on everyone around them. Men like you think you’re so fucking smart, that you can’t even fathom the likely alternative.”

“And what would that be?”

“That you’re actually just a cocksure moron,” she hisses.

Bucky tips his head at Steve. “Stevie tells me I’m a moron every other Tuesday, don’t you Babe?”

Steve shrugs a little from where he's leaning forward, holding the lid of the doughnut box open while he tries to choose a flavor. “Well, yeah.”

Bucky smirks, so unaffected that Mary just wants to scream. “So," he says. "You ‘hate men like me’, huh?”

“Yes. I do."

“That’s why you’ve spent your whole life around them, then?”

“I …" She falters. "What?”

Bucky glances over to Steve, and the two of them have some sort of silent exchange overtop the lid of the doughnut box, wordlessly communicating in a way that evidences a years’ long relationship. When they both look back to her, it’s Steve who speaks first.

“We got to read up on you a little, while you were asleep,” he says. He nods to the laptop and packet of papers on the coffee table. “Did some research. Learned about what led up to this.”

“'This'? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been under the control of domineering men your entire life,” Bucky says, interjecting more forcefully over Steve’s gentler tone—Mary feels like she’s getting whiplash between the two of them. “First it was your father, out in Bumfuck, Nowhereville,”

“Indiana,” Steve mutters.

“Whatever,” Bucky snaps, zeroing back in on Mary with glinting eyes. “And he was ‘that sort of man’, wasn’t he?”

Mary feels a little like she’s been punched in the gut. “So what?” she says. “So you looked me up? Hospital gave you info on me and now you think you know me? You don’t know shit.”

“Your whole life, he said jump and you said how high, right?” Bucky asks, clearly not wanting or needing an answer to the question. Maybe Mary’s expression is answer enough. She’s not quite sure what she must look like right now. Horrified maybe. Or furious. “And then you latched onto the first jerk who’d give you a ride out of town.”

“Shut up.”

“Married him, too. And that worked for you alright ... Until it didn’t.”’

The backs of her eyes are starting to feel hot. “I said: shut up,” she whispers.

Bucky nods and leans forward on the couch, as if her anger and humiliation mean nothing to him. And damn him, maybe they don’t. Maybe he likes this, the sick bastard. “If he hadn’t hit you so bad, you would’ve stayed. Right? He met your needs in every other way.”

Mary shudders. “What are you talking about?”

"I'm talking about self-medicating, Honey. It's what you've been doing. Probably since you were a little girl."

She's disgusted with herself for the tears that break through, unmoored by how Bucky knows all of these things about her, and that he's able to fill in the gaps so easily. “What the hell is your problem, huh?” She swipes angrily at her eyes. “What does any of that have to do with anything? Except for that it’s none of your goddamn business?!”

Bucky softens a little. He glances at Steve, who gives him a warning look. “Sweetheart,” he says, looking back at Mary plaintively. “The drinking and the cutting, the feeling miserable and being sad all the time; that all started after your divorce, yeah?”

That … is not what Mary expected him to say. She’d been expecting more insults, more heartless jabs at her past. “I … What?”

“Answer the question,” Steve urges gently. He looks like he’s in on some secret with Bucky, something only Mary doesn’t know. 

“Yeah,” she admits warily. “I mean, divorce is … well it’s divorce. It sucks. Of course I wasn’t happy about it.” She scowls and crosses her arms. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that, dysfunctional as they were, you had very specific relationships with very specific types of men, until what, like a year ago?”

“... Year and a half,” she mutters, unease creeping up her spine at where she thinks this is going.

“Right. And that’s when all your troubles started. Because let's be real: you weren't hurting yourself before then." He tilts his head, feigning curiosity. "Why do you think that is, Mary? Why weren't you falling apart before? When you had a father touching you wrong, or a husband putting holes in your drywall?"

"Stop," she breathes.

He nods sadly. "It was was after, when you didn’t have those people in your life anymore, structuring it, telling you what to do. Once you were alone, that’s when you started to fall apart.” He levels her with a pitying gaze. "Now why do you think that is?"

Oh, hell no. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mary says. She actually takes a physical step back from where she’s standing. “You think what? I was using my douche ex-husband as some sort of a … a dom? My freaking father?!”

“Mary, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” She jabs her finger at Steve, who’s spoken. If she thought she’d been angry at these two before, well now she’s just … she’s just … “You’re fucked up,” she tells them, voice full of quiet fury. “And you,” she points at Bucky. “You might be diagnosed with some freaking mental disorder or whatever, but that doesn’t give you the right to put that fucked up psychology onto everyone else!” She jabs her thumb at her own chest. “I’m normal! I’m not like you. I don't–I don’t have …”

“Mary,”

“No! I don’t. I–I didn’t …” Vaguely, she starts to recognize that her pulse is pounding in her ears, that it’s getting harder to draw breaths. “My f-fa, my, my f-father…”

Bucky stands up and comes towards her. “Mary,”

“No!” She makes to push away, to leave the room, but he closes in too fast and before she knows it, he has one hand on her throat and one at the base of her skull, gripping her hair. And it’s not mean, the way he’s holding her, but when she jerks away it tugs her hair unpleasantly and she whines and stills. “Let go,” she gasps, terrified by the way his hands make her feel.

“Steve, a little help?”

Her heart lurches as she hears Steve move, sees him getting up off the couch and coming over. “Wait,” she whispers, afraid and not understanding why. Not understanding why she’s even whispering in the first place, instead of screaming like she should be. “No, wait, wait—”

Steve is behind her, and even though he’s hardly even doing anything, just has his hands resting on her lightly, Mary still feels a tremor run through her whole body. She feels so trapped. Fixed in place and terrified, but not because she thinks they’ll hurt her.

Because suddenly she can draw a deep breath again.

And she can see the look in Bucky’s eyes, can see how he knows that. “Please,” she whispers, closing her eyes when tears well to the surface. “Please, just, I just need to …”

“You’re okay,” Bucky soothes. “You’re okay, Mary. Just breathe against my hand. Breath against me, against Steve.”

She shakes her head, even though she knows what he means. With her eyes squeezed shut like this, she can feel both him and Steve so solidly, can feel the points where their bodies connect with hers. When she inhales, she feels them there. “What the hell?” she winds up whispering, more to herself than to them.

“You were starting to have a panic attack,” Steve murmurs. He hugs her from behind, and Mary shivers but doesn’t try to shrug him off.

“I don’t have those,” she says. Even to her own ears, it sounds weak. “I don’t,” she insists.

“First time for everything,” Bucky says.

They stand there for a long minute or two. Hell, maybe it’s more. As long as Mary keeps her eyes shut, she can at least pretend that it’s only a minute. It’s only once she opens her eyes that she has to face reality. When she does, she sees that Bucky’s watching her keenly. He looks … sad.

The thought that the man with one hand fisted in her hair and another wrapped around her throat is concerned for her strikes Mary as almost comical. She doesn’t laugh, but she also doesn’t feel close to crying anymore. “I’m okay,” she rasps, swallowing thickly. “I’m okay now.” Shaky maybe, but better. She can breathe again. “Really, I–I am.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, and the motion makes her all the more aware of his hand on her throat. She has to fight back a pleasured sigh at the feeling of it, fight to keep her eyes from fluttering closed. 

Bucky shifts in, sandwiching her even closer between their bodies. “So what?” he murmurs. “You want me to let go of you now?”

“Yeah,” she says, not feeling like she wants that at all. “Please.”

He hums. “You’re very good at saying ‘please’,” he observes. “And at telling me you’re not submissive.”

“M’not,” she insists, trying harder to make her voice firm, or at least more than a pathetic, breathy whimper. She looks him in the eyes again.

When had she stopped looking him in the eyes? She can’t remember. She feels like she’s watching this all happen through the lightest sort of fog, or maybe in slow motion, like a videotape playing at only 70% speed. Something like that, she thinks dazedly. She doesn’t feel like she has to worry about it, though. It's warm and heavy and nice here; like being under bathwater.

Bucky’s not looking at her in concern anymore. He looks more relaxed now, nicer, his eyes softer around the edges. And he hasn't let go of her, either. 

“She down?” 

That’s Steve’s voice, coming from right behind. Mary likes the way she can feel the quiet rumble of it where he’s pressed to her back.

“Mmhm. Waay down.” 

“Is it normally that easy?”

Bucky chuckles, it's a nice sound that Mary likes, the richness of it making her want more, like how chocolate makes you want more.

“No, it’s not. This is deprivation, right here. Poor thing.” 

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“Oh, sure. We’ll just stay like this for a minute. She needs the contact."

Something about the two of them talking about her like she’s not there is … well it multiplies the bathwater feeling. She hears Steve asking a question, and Bucky making an unhappy noise and answering,

“It should never be this easy. Right now she’d go down for anyone, for even the smallest thing.”

“And she was working in the service industry?” A huff of breath hits Mary’s ear. “Jesus.”

“... Hey,” Mary says, sure that she should protest somehow.

But Bucky’s hand tightens just the barest bit on her throat, and he shushes her sweetly, tells her she’s a “good girl,” and kisses the top of her head.

And Mary pretty much forgets what she was going to say, after that.

Series Masterlist

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Square N5: childhood trauma

[marvelmusing]

Blood Hunger

Part of the Tender Loving Care AU

Pairing: Vampire!Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Summary: Aleksander takes you on your first ever visit to a feeding den, remaining by your side to offer advice and support for this new and unfamiliar experience.

Warnings [18+]: blood, typical vampire themes, blood consumption, allusions to sexual content, usual soft dom vibes from Aleksander

My Masterlist

The feeding den Aleksander takes the two of you to is unlike anything depicted in the films and television shows that are so popular with humans, or from what you’ve seen in the wild selfies and videos posted on Instagram by much younger vampires. 

Most feeding dens are similar to nightclubs, allowing both human and vampire patrons inside as long as they are above the legal drinking age. The higher scale feeding dens are more selective, only allowing vampires who have a membership into the building, aside from the humans who work there. 

The humans working at all respectable feeding dens are regularly tested to ensure that their blood is clean and healthy to avoid any diseases from being passed onto the vampires feeding from them. High scale dens, like the one Aleksander has brought you to, also provide their human workers with plenty of benefits to ensure that they remain both physically and mentally healthy. After all, being fed on can be an intense experience. 

“How do you decide who to…” 

As your gaze lands on a human, tilting her head back for a vampire to sink his fangs into her neck on the other side of the room, your words trail off into nothing. Hunger stirs in your stomach at the sight, despite your nerves.  

“How do you decide who you would like to feed on?” Aleksander suggests knowingly. 

You nod. 

“Generally just whoever smells the most appealing.” 

Subconsciously, your eyes trace over the exposed skin of his throat, lingering on the thrum of his pulse as his heart beats its steady rhythm. When you realise you’ve been staring, your cheeks flush with a flustered warmth and the corner of Aleksander’s lips twitch with the hint of a smile as he observes where your gaze has focused. One of his dark brows lifts, his smile spreading into a smirk as you drag your eyes away from him to survey the floor once again. 

“Although for today I would suggest you take comfort into account, instead of taste,” he adds. 

His words make you frown, and you tilt your head as you turn back to face him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Since it’s your first time, you should pick someone who doesn’t intimidate you - someone who will make you feel at ease about biting them.” 

The only person you’ve ever fed from is Aleksander. Just the thought of feeding on someone else has apprehension prickling over your skin despite the fact that you haven’t fed since yesterday at noon. There’s a gnaw of hunger in your stomach and the urge to bounce your leg to dispel the nervous energy runs through the limb in question. He brushes his knuckles against yours in a reassuring motion. Staring down at his hand, nerves continue to roll over in your stomach and your thumb scratches lightly against the palm of your other hand. 

“How will I know when to stop?” 

Aleksander places his hand over both of yours, enveloping them entirely with his palm which halts your nervous fidgeting, knowing that if you scratched for long enough your skin would break under the scrape of your nails, causing your palm to bleed.  

“Only selfish vampires are the ones who succumb to their instincts. You aren’t a selfish person, milaya.” 

There’s hesitation in your eyes but as soon as they meet Aleksander’s, and find nothing but genuine belief there, some confidence fills your chest. Inhaling shakily, you nod, and he provides your hands with a gentle squeeze. When he loosens his hold, his hand drops down casually to settle on your thigh as a reassuring pressure that reminds you of his presence by your side. Despite his confidence, concerns and worries continue to tighten around your lungs.  

“You still look worried,” he observes. 

“Where am you supposed to bite?” 

He considers your question briefly before he shrugs casually. 

“It depends on your preference,” he explains, circling his thumb gently over your thigh. “Some people find the neck too intimate for a casual feeding, while some struggle to find the right angle for the wrist. Whatever is easiest for you both.” 

“Would you stay with me?” 

He nods. 

“If that’s what you want?” You nod quickly and a soft smile traces over his lips. “Has anyone caught your eye?” 

There had been a young man who gained your attention earlier, though his features bear an almost embarrassingly close resemblance to Aleksander, which makes you rather reluctant to admit how appealing he seemed. Rather pointedly, you keep your gaze fixed on the buttons of Aleksander’s shirt. 

“He’s too young,” you say quietly in a mumbled protest. 

Aleksander laughs, a sound that makes you blush, his teeth flashing as he tilts his head back slightly. With amusement sparkling in his eyes and a carefree grin on his face, he doesn’t look over four hundred years old. 

“I hate to tell you this, but with that mentality almost everyone here is too young for you.” 

The smile that tugs at your lips is sheepish as you look down at your feet, swinging them back and forth momentarily.  

“Except for you.” 

His expression softens as he nods with a smile. 

“Except for me.” There’s a small pause as he holds your gaze before he reminds you in an almost teasing voice, “But you can’t feed on me all the time.” 

Aleksander stands, pushing his chair back into place before he extends his hand out towards you. 

“Let’s go find him then,” he says, his eyes alight with laughter despite the low lighting around us. Taking his hand, you frown at him and stand up by his side. 

“Who?” 

“That young man you had your eye on when we arrived.” 

Your jaw drops and Aleksander laughs again quietly. Immediately, you clasp your hands over your face to hide the embarrassed blush spreading over your cheeks. Had you truly been that obvious? 

“Stop it,” you protest weakly, trying not to smile at the sound of his laughter. 

He chuckles, tugging you into his side as we move around the chairs. As always, your body slots easily beside Aleksander’s and he settles his arm around your shoulders, a reassuring pressure to keep your steps even with his. He lowers his head down to murmur against your ear, 

“If you do well, I’ll feed on you afterwards.” 

At that, your head perks up. 

“Really?” 

He almost looks surprised by your reaction, his head tilted aside whilst his lips flicker into a half-smile. 

“If you would like you to?” There’s some hesitation in his eyes, as he scours your face in an attempt at reading your thoughts. You nod instantly. 

The man you had noticed earlier is seated in a booth at the far end of the den. There’s a pitcher of ice-cold water and a handful of glasses perched in the centre of the table, alongside a small candle that flickers through a frosted glass jar. The dark emerald leather seat curls in a half-circle around the polished wooden table. 

Nervous energy thrums through your body. How do you politely ask someone if you can drink their blood? He offers you a friendly smile, raising a brow as he glances between your uncertain eyes and Aleksander hovering behind you as a safety net. 

“Hungry?” the man asks. 

The smile that tugs at your lips is sheepish as you nod, and he slides over in the booth to provide some open space beside him. Despite Aleksander’s teasing earlier, the man doesn’t look much younger than you, physically. Hesitantly, you move forwards as Aleksander stands beside the empty seat opposite you. 

“You don’t mind if you stay, do you?” Aleksander says casually.

His words are phrased like a polite question, but his tone makes it evident that the two of you would simply find someone else if Aleksander wasn’t allowed to remain with you. It doesn’t come to that though because the man shakes his head amicably. 

“Not at all.” He glances at you, raising a brow with an unfaltering smile. “First time?” You nod and he offers you his hand to help you sit down beside him. “I’ve done this plenty of times before.” 

Nerves continue to buzz uncomfortably beneath your skin. If your hands weren’t clasped so tightly together in your lap, they would be shaking for everyone to see. But Aleksander’s presence in the seat opposite you provides some reassurance, allowing you to focus on the man beside you and the task at hand. 

“I’m James.” 

Smiling nervously, you offer him your name in return.

“Have you fed on anyone before now?” he asks.

Immediately, your flickers over to Aleksander while you fidget with your fingers, smoothing the pad of your thumb over each of your nails. 

“Just one other person.” 

James nods in acknowledgement, his easy smile unfaltering as he tilts his head to look at you. 

“Where would you like to start?” 

There’s a moment of hesitation as you think through the different places you could bite before you offer him a suggestion. 

“Wrist?” 

He nods again, unbuttoning the cuff of his left sleeve. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

At the sight of his bare forearm being revealed, your mouth goes dry. His heartbeat is only slightly elevated in anticipation, though he appears to be quite calm about the situation. He said he’s done this on a number of occasions which comforts you a little. At least he knows what he’s doing - and Aleksander is here with you. 

Slowly, you take James’s hand in your own, bearing his wrist with veins openly on display. If the unnaturally chilled temperature of your hands unsettles him he doesn’t show it, which you appreciate. Inhaling a deep breath, the scent of his blood fills your senses and your mouth waters. You glance up at his face again, assessing his expression, and he gives you a small nod of consent. 

Closing your eyes, you extend your fangs and bite down into his skin. Hot, fresh blood pools into your mouth, a delightfully savoury taste that you swallow down eagerly with a small hum of pleasure. It’s different without Aleksander’s hand at the nape of your neck or cupping your jaw and you feel slightly unbalanced without his touch to ground you. 

You drink until you’re almost satisfied, allowing his blood to just take the edge off your hunger, since you don’t want to risk taking too much from him. Licking his wounds feels too intimate, but you don’t want to leave him openly bleeding after the bite, so you keep your mouth over the puncture marks until the blood has slowed considerably. Only then do you lean back, giving him some space after feeding on him. 

Sucking your tongue against the front of your teeth, you attempt to clear the rest of his blood from your mouth. James breathes out a soft laugh, his head slumped back against the seat behind you. Aleksander had mentioned that with more time your venom would be strong for him, and you can only imagine how it might affect a human like James. 

His smile lingers as he tilts his head lazily towards you, blinking through the haze in his eyes as he does so. When he manages to sit up, he straightens himself with a palpable energy alight in his eyes. He looks rejuvenated as he slides a hand into his hair, ruffling it slightly as he breathes out another quiet laugh of disbelief. Blood hunger sated, the tension has melted from your chest, allowing you to breathe easily and offer him a small smile. 

“Thank you.” 

He nods instantly, hands splayed on the seat beneath you on each side of his thighs. Despite the fact that he’s lost blood, there’s a flush to his cheeks and he seems ready for anything. Usually, you feel tired after Aleksander feeds on you, most likely from the combination of his venom and the loss of blood. Being fed on clearly has the opposite effect on a human. 

“If you ever need a feed, I’m here most evenings.” 

His offer stuns you momentarily but you nod in response. When he tilts his head pointedly towards the rest of the club, you slide out of his way to allow him out of the booth. The two of you part ways after an exchange of nods and smiles. 

There’s a slight wobble in his legs as he walks towards the bar, and you find yourself watching him as you sit back down onto the edge of the seat. Too surprised by James’s response to your bite, you don’t realise Aleksander has stood up as well. He nudges your knee gently with his, encouraging you to slide further into the booth, which you do. 

“That was easier than you thought it would be,” you admit. 

Aleksander smiles widely at you as he takes a seat in the open space beside you. 

“You did very well.” 

Warm blood rushes to the surface of your skin, as he presses his lips softly against your cheek. His nose nuzzles affectionately over your cheek, as he breathes in the scent of your blush, his chest expanding with the depth of his inhale. Your stomach flips at the sound of a small hum of pleasure catching in the back of his throat and he presses a gentle kiss to your jawline, tracing his way up to your ear. 

“You smell delightful.” 

The heat of your skin prickles down the length of your body. 

“I do?” 

He nods, humming quietly in confirmation, and his next words, a low admission, are murmured against the shell of your ear.

“My teeth are just aching for a bite of you.” 

Tilting your head backwards, you bear as much of your throat as possible for him to feed from, your eyes fluttering closed in anticipation of his bite. When nothing happens, when there’s no sting of pain from his fangs descending into your skin or flood of pleasure from his venom, you open your eyes and blink at him in confusion. 

Aleksander cradles the back of your head with one of his hands, the nape of your neck fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand. His fingertips graze over the hollow of your throat and there’s no doubt he can feel the bob of your throat as you swallow. His eyes scour over your expression intently. 

“May I?” he asks. 

You nod. He waits patiently for you to find your voice. 

“Yes, please.” 

He smiles though there’s some distance in his eyes as he appears to think something over in his mind. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“Would you… would you mind if you made this bite a little messy?” 

You blink at him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When I bite you, my venom encourages you to relax and stay still, meaning the puncture wound is always small. But if I were to tilt your head slightly during the feeding-” he demonstrates the motion, tilting your head back slightly with one of his fingers now tucked under your chin “-your skin would tear, meaning there would be more blood for me to feed on.” 

His hands drop down to settle casually on your thighs, a comforting weight as he remains close to your body without crowding you too much. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the cool air brushing over the skin that had previously been shielded by his hand. 

“You don’t have to agree. Some people find it enjoyable.” 

In your ears, your voice sounds as breathless as you feel, your lashes fluttering at the sight of his darkened eyes in the low light. 

“Enjoyable?” 

“Well,” he starts with a small smirk. “I would have to clean up the mess with my tongue.” 

There’s a beat of silence while Aleksander’s eyes twinkle with amusement at the sight of your widened eyes. 

“Oh.” 

The thought of Aleksander’s warm tongue moving over the length of your throat, lapping up the blood that spills from his bite, makes heat curl through your body. Once again, he traces his knuckle along your jawline to keep your eyes on his as if he can sense how flustered you are. He cocks his head, curiosity sparkling in the depths of his gaze as he examines you. 

“Are you aroused?” 

Instantly, your legs snap together, the bones of your kneecaps clashing as you press them closed. The heat spreading over your cheeks dives down your body. 

“No.” 

He purses his lips together momentarily, suppressing the laughter that shimmers in his eyes at your sudden reaction. 

“It’s alright if you are. Feeding in public is a rather intimate affair.” 

“It’s not the feeding.” 

He lifts a dark brow. 

“It’s not?” 

“This… this doesn’t happen to me very often.” 

His brows draw together for a brief moment, his forehead creasing slightly as he observes your widened eyes and heated cheeks. Then the corner of his mouth lifts and a softness creeps into his dark eyes. 

“Oh, sweet girl, is it me?” 

His doting tone has you teetering on a knife’s edge of a great big something. Something that you’re desperate for, your fingers prickling with the urge to sink your nails in and claw at this feeling to get what you want - and Aleksander is what you want. 

“Aleksander, please, bite me.” 

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, as if he’s considering teasing you even further. Though the temptation of biting you seems too much of an incentive for him to move closer. 

He takes your chin gently between his fingers, turning your head to one side to reveal a large portion of your neck for him. His nose traces over your pulse as he breathes in your scent. Your heart pounds expectantly, waiting for him to bite down on your throat, anticipation tingling over your skin. 

“Ready?” 

You nod. There’s a brief pause as he extends his fangs. 

“Breathe, little love.”

It’s only then that you realise you’ve been holding your breath and light-headedness has descended. He waits until you’ve taken a soothing inhale, your lungs filling with air which instantly alleviates most of your nervousness. He watches you breathe steadily for several moments. Then Aleksander sinks his teeth into your skin. 

Like always, there’s a small sting of pain that quickly diminishes as his venom begins threading through your veins. A muted whimper catches in the back of your throat and you breathe out a heavy sigh as bliss fills your body. 

Aleksander’s hands slide up your thighs, slipping beneath your skirt to squeeze at the crease where your thighs meet your hips. His sudden touch in such an intimate area has you gasping, your head falling backwards as you shift yourself closer to his body. The movement itself causes Aleksander’s fangs to drag through your skin, drawing more blood to the surface. 

He holds the back of your head, preventing you from moving any further to ensure that he doesn’t spill too much blood. He sucks diligently on the wound, swallowing down as much of your blood as possible. A rivulet of hot blood traces its way down your throat and you shudder at the sensation. Aleksander withdraws his fangs from your skin to lap up the line of blood running down over your collarbone. Sticky blood continues to bloom from the puncture wounds as his tongue licks over your thundering pulse, removing the blood that is already beginning to dry there.

He breathes heavily from the exertion of feeding, each breath brushing delicately over your skin in a gentle caress. His venom helps the skin close naturally, though it takes longer than usual since the wounds are larger this time. Aleksander keeps his face tucked into the crook of your neck, tongue tracing lazily over your skin whenever a droplet of blood rolls down from the wound. 

Aleksander’s venom threads its way through your veins, filling your limbs with a comfortable heaviness. Your entire body is enveloped in a sense of comfort and warmth, like being cocooned in a soft blanket, and your sense of hearing is limited to the pounding of your heart, beating a steady rhythm as you also attempt to catch your breath from such an intense feeding.

The sound of Aleksander pouring a glass of water is distant and muffled. Even with your eyes closed, focusing your attention on him as he drinks some water helps you to reorientate yourself. He encourages you to drink some water and you’re surprised by how dry your throat is. 

“Easy,” he murmurs. “Small sips.” 

It takes some difficulty to do as he says, but Aleksander’s hand at the nape of your neck helps to control the speed of your drinking. 

Slowly, the rest of the world comes back into focus. Aleksander’s body shields you from most of the sights and sounds of the club, which seem too bright and too loud compared to earlier. It’s then that you notice the concern in his eyes. 

“Can I come home with you tonight?” you ask him quietly, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve. He nods, expression softening further. 

“Of course. Now?” 

You nod. There’s a shakiness to your legs, they feel almost disconnected from the rest of your body as you look down at your heels. Despite being well practised in wearing heels, the thought of walking has apprehension clouding your mind. Aleksander notices your frown. 

“What’s wrong?” 

It’s difficult to string your thoughts together into something coherent to say to him as an explanation and your lips part for a moment. Nothing comes out as you attempt to gather your concerns. 

“I don’t think I can walk in heels, but the buckles look too complicated for me to unfasten in this state.” 

He breathes out a soft laugh. 

“Well, there’s an easy fix for that.” 

He descends onto one knee smoothly, crouching down to unbuckle your heels. His thumb circles soothingly over where the strap has been pressed against your ankle, offering a tender touch to a place you hadn’t even realised was hurting. He squeezes gently at your calves, fingertips casual in their motions, right where you can feel the muscles trembling slightly from the aftermath of his venom. 

He tilts his head aside, his eyes scouring over the length of the floor. It takes you a long moment to realise that he’s searching for any broken glass or spilt drinks that might hurt your bare feet or cause you to slip on your way to the exit. When his gaze returns to meet yours you smile softly in appreciation, and he offers his hand to help you stand. 

The smooth polished stone that makes up the flooring is surprisingly warm against your bare skin, and you frown down at your feet. 

“Underfloor heating,” Aleksander murmurs quietly in explanation. 

“Oh.” A pleased shudder runs from the soles of your feet up to your chest. “It’s really nice.” 

He breathes out a quiet laugh, keeping you tucked close into the side of his body. He’s warm too, and you find yourself gripping onto the front of his shirt - both to keep your balance and to make the most of his warmth. The straps of your heels hang delicately from his fingers, swinging lightly as you walk. 

As you near the exit, goosebumps prickle over your skin and Aleksander shrugs his jacket over your shoulders to protect you from the cool breeze. He presses you close against his side and when he notices your questioning look he murmurs against your temple. 

“Your body temperature is about to drop after being fed on.” 

Almost instantaneously, a shudder wracks through your body and you grip tighter onto the fabric of his shirt, trying to draw some heat from his body to yours. 

He stops at the top of the steps that make up the entrance of the building and you frown at him. The frown on your face deepens when his arm tightens around your shoulders, his other arm reaching for your legs. A small squeal of surprise escapes your lips as he sweeps you up against his chest and you wrap your arms hurriedly around his neck to steady yourself. Aleksander’s smile is wide as he carries you down the steps. 

The sudden shift from the heat of the club to the darkened streets make your shivers relentless, your body trembling in the desperate hope of creating some warmth of your own - despite how impossible that is. When he notices your teeth chattering, concern fills Aleksander’s features, and he begins to walk faster towards his car. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bury your face into his chest to ground yourself and cling to a little more warmth. When you reach his car, Aleksander places you into the passenger seat with ease, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead before he closes the door behind you. 

Once the keys have been turned in the ignition, Aleksander dials up the heating system and a delightfully warm rush of air floods over your face. Eager for more, you hover your hands in front of the vents to warm your ice-cold fingers. He takes your hands in his own, cupping them between both of his palms to shield them from the cold that lingers in the air of the car. Gently, he begins to rub against your fingers and the friction encourages some warmth to settle beneath your skin. 

The two of you stay like this for a long moment, Aleksander warming your hands as you continue to shiver occasionally due to the last slivers of cold leaving your body. The car hums quietly and combined with the rush of hot air they provide a soothing ambience that has your eyes growing heavy. Exhaustion is common after being fed on and all you want to do now is curl up beside Aleksander and go to sleep.  

With your fingers still feeling half-numb from the cold, you fumble with the clasp of the seatbelt, trying several times to buckle it with limited success. After your third or fourth attempt, Aleksander takes it from your hands, slotting it firmly into place for you. When your eyes lock, your cheeks warm and offer him a grateful smile. An unreadable emotion crosses over his eyes but he only nods in acknowledgement, shifting his attention towards the car as he puts it into gear. 

He turns to look out of the rearview window, placing his hand on the headrest behind you as he does so. When his eyes skim over you, concern touches his features and he says quietly, 

“Feel free to get some rest. Traffic should be light at this time, so we’ll be home soon.” 

Home. The thought of  Aleksander considering the two of you together at his house as a home has a cosy warmth spreading in your chest which encourages you to close your eyes. As always, the reassuring sound of his heartbeat and breathing has a sense of calm filling you as you anticipate each soft exhale. Before you know it, you’re falling into a comfortable slumber. 

-

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[dairy-farmer]

Holy shit the pecking order normalised incest au got my brain thinking in a frenzy!!

so. imagine. tim's pretty fucking tired being in the bottom rung for so long and when damian came he initally thought that maybe, just maybe, he won't be the bottom ranks. but!! jay and dick are helping damian!! so unfair!! he just wants to be the one setting the pace sometimes! and not get roughly fucked to oblivion every other days!!

and hey, would you look at that, his emantipation still applied, who wouldve thunk? so technically. the wayne family has NO jurisdiction over him. he's a free man! he doesnt have to put up with them!! but he likes having sex tho, so he's still conflicted over staying with the waynes or not...

in comes. conner. offering tim to just join the kent family! they've got a pretty healthy dynamic (compared to the bats), and conner's pretty sure clark has eyed tim behind bruce's back, and jon has definitely oogled tim once or twice when tim was visiting the farm. and conner has been itching to get it on with tim (and secretly having fantasies of tim seducing him like in those step sibling porns). with a couple paperworks he can be a kent in just a week! no more getting forcefully bent over during work, dinner, or patrol!!

and tim is !!!!! that sounds great!! he's never been fucked by kryptonians before but hey! it wont be as taxing as having been railed by bruce, jason, dick, and damian in a row for a days! right? right????

(wrong. he gets. fucked to oblivion with massive kryptonian cock and endurance. but hey, at least he gets to top sometimes)

bonus: not pictured the waynes utterly seething at this and the chaos that ensued when tim left the family

(i'm probably gonna send more asks around this au. its just. -chefs kiss- delicioso.)

😍😍😍😍 tim deciding to join the kents because his family is full of cheaters who don't even give him a chance to move up or when they do put up a fight it's mostly them mocking tim and showing him they can overpower him. tim is the brain of their operations, he knows that and has normally never let it get him down but its started really souring his relationship with them because he just. can't. get up.

and they never give him a break either, there is hardly a day that goes by where someone isn't fucking him, even if tim wants a break he doesn't get it. sometimes tim has been getting fucked all day and passes out with jason fucking him only to wake up with damian on top of him because he found tim unconcious and decided to use him when the oppertunity presented itself.

tim is stuck at the bottom in his family and when he finds out he IS emancipated he gets hit with a stroke of genius. pecking orders only apply within families. your boss can't just fuck you to show you your place and so since tim's not legally family with the waynes they can't actually do this anymore!!

so when kon offers him a nicer, healthier dynamic because the kents (unlike the waynes) take turns being on the bottom well then of course tim jumps at the opportunity. fucking kon, jon, and clark is exhausting but not anymore than tim having to be fucked by his whole family. and for the first time tim gets to top even though he wouldn't have won a fight against any of them unless he had kryptonite.

but at least with them he actually enjoys it! he likes being fucked because he knows he'll get his turn being on top eventually and that living and being with the kents isn't some constant power struggle where he needs to remain vigilant.

meanwhile the waynes are furious because tim leaving has completely destabilized their structure and they're all fighting to avoid being on the bottom and not only that, it was pretty much unanimously agreed that fucking tim was the most fun. he was small and easy to hold down and lithe and he made such a pretty face and sounds he always tried to muffle. even for bruce who mostly treated it as a chore, he always enjoyed his time fucking tim. but now tim has left and they're stuck constantly watching their back for each other. them getting a taste of what it was like for tim living in the manor with them

[reasonsforhope]

"France is to trial a ban on mobile phones at school for pupils up to the age of 15, seeking to give children a “digital pause” that, if judged successful, could be rolled out nationwide from January [2025].

Just under 200 secondary schools will take place in the experiment that will require youngsters to hand over phones on arrival at reception. It takes the prohibition on the devices further than a 2018 law that banned pupils at primary and secondary schools from using their phones on the premises but allowed them to keep possession of them.

Announcing the trial on Tuesday, the acting education minister, Nicole Belloubet, said the aim was to give youngsters a “digital pause”. If the trial proves successful, the ban would be introduced in all schools from January, Belloubet said.

A commission set up by the president, Emmanuel Macron, expressed concern that the overexposure of children to screens was having a detrimental effect on their health and development.

A 140-page report published in March concluded there was “a very clear consensus on the direct and indirect negative effects of digital devices on sleep, on being sedentary, a lack of physical activity and the risk of being overweight and even obese … as well as on sight”.

It said the “hyper” use of phones and other digital technology was not only bad for children but also for “society and civilisation”.

The report recommended children’s use of mobile phones be controlled in stages: no mobile phones before the age of at least 11, mobiles without internet access between 11 and 13, phones with internet but no access to social media before 15.

It also suggested children under three years old should not be exposed at all to digital devices, which it said were “not necessary for the healthy development of the child”.

“We must put the digital tool in its place. Up to at least six years old a child has no need for a digital device to develop,” Servane Mouton, a neurologist and neurophysiologist who was on the commission, said. “We have to teach parents once again how to play with their children.”

Banning phones in schools has long been debated across Europe. In countries where bans exist this is most often confined to their use and do not require children to hand them over.

In Germany there are no formal restrictions but most schools have prohibited the use of mobile phones and digital devices in classrooms except for education purposes. A quasi ban has been in place in Dutch secondary school classrooms since the beginning of this year, but as a recommendation and not a legal obligation. From this school year the directive will also apply to primary schools.

Italy was early to phone bans, introducing one in 2007 before easing it in 2017 and reimposing it in 2022. It applies to all age groups.

In February this year, the Westminster government issued non-statutory guidance that said schools in England should prohibit the use of mobile phones throughout the school day, but that it was for individual headteachers and leaders to decide on their phone use policy.

Portugal is experimenting with a compromise by introducing a number of phone-free days at schools each month, while in Spain schools in some autonomous regions have imposed a ban but there is no nationwide prohibition."

-via The Guardian, August 27, 2024

[ghost-bxrd]

Im thinking about mini bruce being the little gremlin he is.

At school

Teacher: Thomas Todd! If you dont stop this behaviour we will call your mother!

Mini Bruce : last i checked you cant call a dead person. I thought that was obvious.

Teacher:(embarrassed) well then we'll call your father to deal with you .

Mini Bruce : HAH!good luck with that.

At the store

Jason : kid ,no . That is Not healthy .

Mini bruce : (falls to his knees in dramatic fashion) THOU HAS FORSAKEN ME FATHER! NEVER AGAIN SHALL I BE ABLE TO LOOK YOU IN THE EYES, YOU HEATHEN!!!

Jason: (noticing the stares there getting) goddammit Thomas its not its not the end of the world.

Mini bruce: I SEE THE LIGHT , I FEAR I AM NOT LONG FOR THIS WORLD! IF ONLY I COULD I EAT THIS PACK SOUR SWEETS BEFOR I PASS!.... BLEH! (Flops down on the ground) father carry me i am too weak.

Jason: oh for - fine! Fine you can have them , you little shit, now get up.

Mini bruce : yes! Thank you!

Jason: (exasperated) the things i do for you , brat .

Pfpfpf glorious mental image for sure! Especially because Jason, the “legal dad”, would just go: “Did you he burn or stab something/someone?”

Teacher: “No!? But-“

Jason: “great, call me when that changes”

And just hangs up and goes back to his… very legal and totally not shady business deals *cough*

Oh and the sweets, the SWEETS. So many ways to get Jason to do his every bidding (if it’s normal kid stuff like wanting sweets) Only embarrassing Jason in front of the entire store? Nah-uh, he’d guilt trip him. “You know, mom always you used to buy me these” *big eyes, addressing the next best empathetic person* “she’s dead”

Jason: “for fuck’s sake-“

[ghelgheli]

Recognizing this central ambivalence in regard to so-called Western values—whereby they are cast out as “postmodern authoritarianism” only to be embraced as the “true spirit” of societies to come—is essential to understanding the strategic significance of the anti-gender misappropriation of postcolonial language. This ambivalence sheds light on the fact that the superficial takeover frames the “gender ideology” colonizer not simply as the “West as such but [rather as] the West whose healthy (Christian) core had already been destroyed by neo-Marxism and feminism in the 1960s” (Korolczuk and Graff 2018: 812). Very often, the anti-gender misappropriation takes on a decidedly Islamophobic hue; for all their catering to anticolonial sentiments, anti-gender thinkers often claim that “gender ideology,” with its historical roots in anti-European “neo-Marxism and feminism,” goes hand in hand with the threat of (Muslim) immigration. A blatant example of this can be found in former Cardinal Sarah’s proclamation against the two unexpected threats of our times:

On the one hand, the idolatry of Western freedom; on the other, Islamic fundamentalism: atheistic secularism versus religious fanaticism. To use a slogan, we find ourselves between “gender ideology and ISIS.” . . . From these two radicalizations arise the two major threats to the family: its subjectivist disintegration in the secularized West [and] the pseudo-family of ideologized Islam which legitimizes polygamy [and] female subservience. (Sarah 2015)

Sarah aggressively draws up a dual picture of the true enemy—the biopolitical survival of the family is threatened on the one hand by excessive secularization and sexual freedom, and on the other by “ideologized Islam’s pseudo-family,” which marks the degraded and uncivilized counterpart to Christianity’s proper tradition. This discursive construction of “terrorist look-alikes” as possessing an excessive, uncultivated, and dangerous sexuality yet again plays into the same fundamental racialized mapping of progress that colonial gender undergirded (Puar 2007). This rhetoric is mirrored by Norwegian right-wing politician Per-Willy Amundsen (2021) when he writes that:

I will never celebrate pride. First of all, there are only two sexes: man and woman, not three—that is in contradiction with all biological science. Even worse, they are allowed access to our kids to influence them with their radical ideology. This has to be stopped. If FRI [the national LGBT organization] really cared about gay rights, they would get involved in what is happening in Muslim countries, rather than construct fake problems here in Norway. But it is probably easier to speak about “diversity” as long as it doesn’t cost anything. (Amundsen 2021; translation by author) Here Amundsen draws on the well-known trope of trans* and queer people “preying on our kids” while at the same time reinforcing the homonationalist notion that Europe, and in particular Norway, is a safe h(e)aven for queer people—perhaps a bit too much so. In his response to Amundsen, Thee-Yezen Al-Obaide, the leader of SALAM, the organization for queer Muslims in Norway, aptly diagnoses Amundsen’s rhetoric as “transphobia wrapped in Islamophobia” (as quoted in Berg 2021). Amundsen mirrors a central tenet of TERF rhetoric by claiming to be the voice of science, biology, and reason in order to distinguish his own resistance to “gender ideology” from the repressive, regressive one of Muslims. In this way, his argumentation, which basically claims that trans* people don’t exist and certainly shouldn’t be recognized legally, attempts to come off as benign, while Muslim opposition to “gender ideology” is painted as destructive and anti-modern. This double gesture, which allows Amundsen to have his cake and eat it too, is a central trope in different European iterations of anti-gender rhetoric. In France, for example, such discourse claims that, “while ‘gender ideology’ goes too far on the one hand, the patriarchal control of Islam threatens to pull us back into an excessive past. Here of course, ‘Frenchness’ is always already neither Muslim, nor queer (and certainly not both)” (Hemmings 2020: 30). Therefore the French anti-gender movement sees itself as the defender of true Western civilization, both from Western “gender ideology” and from uncivilized “primitives” who are nevertheless themselves victims of “gender ideology.” A similar dynamic plays out in Britain: “Reading Muslims as dangerous heteroactivists and Christians as benign points to how racialization and religion create specific forms of heteroactivism. . . . Even where ‘Muslim parents’ are supported by Christian heteroactivists, they remain other to the nation, and not central to its defence” (Nash and Browne 2020: 145). In the British example, it is clear that white anti-gender actors represent themselves as moderate, reasonable, and caring—often claiming that their resistance to the “politicization” of the classroom has nothing to do with transphobia and homophobia.

Is “Gender Ideology” Western Colonialism? Jenny Andrine Madsen Evang

[snailss]

MARCHWERES PROMPT 19- SILVER

MAIN MASTERLIST

DARYL MASTERLIST (includes marchweres)

PROMPT LIST BY @marchweres

CW: Unrequited love, Age gap (reader is in their 20s, Daryl is in his late 30s), prison era, mentions of death, poor attempt at angst, reader is hinted at being female, written in Daryl’s POV, small allusions to sex, let me know if I missed anything.

PLEASE GIVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

Since long before time, the story of werewolves have been twisted and changed among cultures, but the one statement that always remained true was the fatality of silver. It's said that supernatural creatures like werewolves were often left vulnerable to the touch of the metal. It was their Achilles heel.

The feeling in Daryl's chest felt much like his lungs had been punctured by silver.

The breeze rustled through Daryl's hair while he hunted, crossbow in hand. The sun was shallow on the horizon, a soft glow looming over his face. It was well after he said he'd be back, and he had no doubt that the residents of the prison were worried, but he didn't care. The soft air of the evening gave him peace of mind, unlike the chaos of the bustling community the ex-Woodbury residents had just recently joined. Despite the abundance of people who had just allied with his group, his mind was stuck on one person in particular.

You.

You, the embodiment of Aphrodite herself, with your warm smiles and soft, lingering touches. You had come with the group when they rescued you from Woodbury, and the brunette took a particular liking towards you. Despite his normally touch repulsed self, he found himself craving your soft skin against his more frequently than not.

You were younger than him, in a happy and healthy relationship with a boy from Woodbury. He shouldn't be wanting you like this. It felt wrong. You were of legal age, of course, being in your late 20s, yet it still felt so, so dirty to be pining over you like this, especially when you didn't return his advances. With each interaction he had with you, his chest coiled tighter in an emotion he couldn't describe. Guilt? Jealousy? Envy? He wasn't quite sure anymore. All he knew was that the feeling was painful, harsh, and like a stab to the heart.

Daryl continued to trudge through the thick undergrowth. As he followed the tracks of his prey, thoughts of you continued to infiltrate his mind. The feeling of despair clawed at him relentlessly, cutting off his airways and twisting his chest into knots. You were not his to desire, not when your heart already beat in time with another's, not when you were tangled in someone else's sheets.

When he finally caught sight of his prey, Daryl paused, his crossbow at the ready. His mind drifted back to you, to the way your eyes sparkled in the sun and your laugh filled up a room. He knew he was being foolish, that he was setting himself up for defeat, but he couldn't help but imagine a world where maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to win your heart.

With a deep breath, Daryl pulled back on the trigger, letting the bolt reach its target. As he retrieved his kill, Daryl allowed reality to truly sink in.

You would forever be his silver bullet.

a/n- the ending feels rushed to me :(

[tomorrowusa]

Don't think that patiently explaining the legalities and details of the Trump indictment will change the minds of the MAGA crowd about it. Those folks, like Trump, simply don't believe in the rule of law.

There may be some Republicans who secretly believe the charges have merit but are scared shitless of what may happen if they say so in public.

A reasonably healthy party might give its indicted leader some benefit of the doubt, while calling for judgment to be withheld before he has his day in court. But Republicans correctly understand that their party will consider Trump an innocent martyr regardless. The sickness of the Republican Party as it is presently constituted is that there is no conceivable set of facts that would permit it to acknowledge Trump’s guilt. What has brought the party to this point is the convergence of its decades-long descent into paranoia with its idiosyncratic embrace of a career criminal.

Yep, the GOP has been drifting in this direction for a long time. Trump's emergence finally nudged them into being a full-blown paranoid cult.

The Republican Party’s internal culture has been shaped by what Richard Hofstadter famously described as “the paranoid style” in American politics. Hofstadter specifically attributed this description to the conservative movement, which, at the time, was a marginalized faction on the far right but has since completely taken control of the party and imposed its warped mentality on half of America. To its adherents, every incremental expansion of the welfare state is incipient communism, each new expansion of social liberalism the final death blow to family and church. Lurking behind these endless defeats, they discern a vast plot by shadowy elites. In recent years, the Republican Party’s long rightward march on policy has ground to a halt, and it has instead radicalized on a different dimension: ruthlessness. Attributing their political travails to weakness, Republicans converged on the belief that their only chance to pull back from the precipice of final defeat is to discard their scruples. A willingness to do or say anything to win was the essence of Trump’s appeal, an amorality some Republicans embraced gleefully and others reluctantly. Trump, by dint of his obsessive consumption of right-wing media, grasped where the party was going more quickly than its leaders did. This aspect of Trump’s rise was historically necessary. All Trump did was to hasten it along.

This is Trump's legal philosophy (if you want to call it that) in a nutshell...

Trump was not raised in a traditional conservative milieu. He came into a seedy, corrupt world in which politicians could be bought off and laws were suggestions. He worked with mobsters and absorbed their view of law enforcement: People who follow the law are suckers, and the worst thing in the world is a rat.

Trump is basically a petty mobster. That explains why he hates the FBI.

It is the interplay of the two forces, the paranoia of the right and the seamy criminality of the right’s current champion, that has brought the party to this point. Trump’s endlessly repeated “witch hunt” meme blends together the mobster’s hatred of the FBI with the conservative’s fear of the bureaucrat. His loyalists have been trained to either deny any evidence of misconduct by their side or rationalize it as a necessary countermeasure against their enemies. The concept of “crime” has been redefined in the conservative mind to mean activities by Democrats. They insist upon Trump’s innocence because they believe a Republican, axiomatically, cannot be a criminal.

That Manichean view fits in well with the radical Christian fundamentalist tendency in the GOP. Though instead of Jesus Christ, the credo of Republicans is to accept Donald Trump as their personal Lord and Savior. By that reasoning, Donald Trump is incapable of wrongdoing.