#fucking just let the citizens of this country live

[saintravioli]

It literally took all day to collect a single prescription for my mum;

Went down to boots pharmacy this morning, no pharmacist so nobody can get their prescriptions or any over the counter medicine.

Went down in the afternoon, queued for half an hour, turns out the pharmacy at the gp surgery had locked it so I couldn’t collect it from boots.

The pharmacy at the gp has no products on the shelves so I can’t get the prescription from there. It turns out I can’t phone them to ask them to unlock the prescription because their phone lines have been cut off because they didn’t pay the bill.

I have to drive up there, queue for another 20 minutes to ask them to unlock the prescription, then drive back down to boots to then ask them to prepare it.

Another 30 minutes later I finally have the prescription. There are several other people who I’ve seen travelling between both pharmacies (which are a 15 minute drive and 1 hour walk apart) to get their medicine. What the fuck are you supposed to do if you don’t have literal hours to spare.

People are being told they can’t have vital medicines because they’re not in stock or because the computer system has fucked up, after they’ve already been waiting days.

This country is a fucking shambles.

[faggotician]

its just....the way my brain is, if i dont see a point in something i do Not want 2 bother with it. but the issue is that working constantly has no ultimate point. im not working for a goal, im working to get food to allow this body's survival . whats the point in that. i want 2 create i want 2 have time 2 sit and draw stupid mspaint furries. i want 2 get home st 1am and not have 2 lament abt going 2 bed early cuz i need 2 get up early for the job i JUST finished . we all know how fucked up this is, and anyone who doesnt admit it is always clearly in denial . The empire is going to fall, & america has a reckoning, but its so depersonalizing 2 be a US citizin right now....

[devertigozation]

Got 2nd booster shot yesterday (4th overall), and damn, not since the first shot did i feel those side effects that intense.

Literally like making a choice between laying in bed all day (which makes all my blood turn to jelly and causes headache) or walking around at least even though my bones and muscles ache so...

[boybitcx]

I wish we lived in a society where there is no law protecting women. They are just public good. Everytime I go out, someone can use me. My landlord lets me live in his house but he comes everynight to rape me instead of taking rent. If i go outside at night i can be sure that some drunk boys will pin me to the ground and take turns using my holes. Even at school everybody can pull me to the bathroom and make me suck them off.

Oh, and when you think you are a boy? Delusional ftm girls are taken to special therapy where they are just fucked by men or machines and overstimulated until they admit that they are just a woman.

Of course, women can go to university and get a job but they have a worse pay and it's harder for them to get hired. So most of them work in public glory holes. Country funds them so every male citizen can empty his balls (or bladder)

[satoruhour]

a/n: not sure if other countries have rubbish chutes but my country does! i have to get out of my house to go to the common floor chute to throw my rubbish so this is just a little drabble based on that + spider-man!gojo :) / tagging @osaemu @jabamin @shotorus @hyomagiri @mysugu ✶

“yes, yes! i’ll take out the trash—” you’re shouting to your mom when you’re called upon again, the third time within ten minutes to take the trash out. through your one-sided airpods (your left one always dies first), you can hear your mom tying the plastic bag and cleaning up at the sink.

it’s always been her bringing it to the chute outside your house; occasionally, you’d help but routine has never really let you do it, so later when you’re awkwardly tucking your phone into your pocket and listening to charlie burg’s voice through the right airpod, you can’t help the grimace that takes over your features at the wetness all over the trash bag.

“oh, it’s just water; stop being dramatic!” your mom chastises whilst on her nightly cup of water, gulping down the beverage before nodding towards the master bedroom, “i’m gonna go to sleep first.”

you hum in a half-hearted response, a little annoyed that you were interrupted from your lazing around but you still manage a soft goodnight when she disappears into the room and the house falls quiet. apart from the background classical music that plays from the stereo in the room and the laughter of the older kids downstairs outside, you’re living in a world of both music and silence, feeling a little disoriented by the one-sided song.

the walk to the outdoor chute is short in your oversized puffer jacket, flip-flops seemingly slapping against the floor in attempts of waking up all your neighbours beside you but thankfully they don’t seem to mind when you walk past their homes. it’s cold, feeling the snow that beats into the open corridors that lead to the rubbish chute. beside it, there’s a ledge that overlooks the other buildings, too.

with one swift step to the foot lever, the chute opens and you’re dumping the trash bag into the dirty, stained metal device and with a listening ear, you grin when you hear the bag travel through the tunnel and reach the bottom with a big plunk!, not really realising the ledge now held something.

or someone.

“h—”

if your slippers didn’t wake the neighbours up, your scream definitely did when spiderman himself hops off the ledge and leaps forward to place his palm over your mouth. it only fuels your desire to scream even more before you remember that your damn boyfriend is the vigilante that the police are looking for and citizens are rooting for more and more and that calms your racing heart just a bit.

but you still give him his due treatment . .

“what!” smack. “the!” smack. “fuck!” smack. “were!” smack. “you!” smack. “thinking?!” smack.

. . even if the widening of his spider-man mask eyes were adorable.

“sorry! sorry, sorry—” spider-man!gojo only continues to apologise but you can tell he’s enjoying it at least a little, hands gripping your biceps to help you to centre yourself. and as you predicted, once your boyfriend pulls off his mask, there’s a shit-eating grin and a cheeky glint in his eyes.

you muster the most unimpressed face you can — “really? i’m starting to think you’re not really sorry,” your mouth twists when you roll your eyes, getting ready to make a show of heading back into your house before he brings you into his arms. even with a hint of faux protest from you, you’re melting into his embrace, grumbling into his chest.

there’s a hint of wetness along his suit that you feel against your body, probably from the snow outside, but mostly you can feel the cold air against your hair and laboured breaths in your ear.

“i am! i missed you . .” he mumbles, suited fingers gripping your body tight against him like you were an apparition, “i just wanted to, uhm—”

it’s rare that you see your boyfriend having such a hard time with words, but it’s a cute sight when he pulls away and stumbles in his sentences and quickly removes the backpack that he’s webbed to the wall outside. there’s a noise of surprise from you as you watch him crawl outside on all fours and rip the backpack, scrambling to remove something from it.

and you’re so caught off-guard — in his hands are a ruined bouquet of flowers and a mixtape he’s put together for you — that you giggle at the state of it and coo at his downcast expression. he’s looking in the bag, outside, anywhere for what might’ve been the culprit to make the flowers turn out that way until he realises he had bought them a tad bit early and had been swinging around with it the whole day.

“aw . . satoru, they’re still pretty!” you take the gift with grateful hands, something you cherish despite his busy schedule of school and fighting villains. “but maybe don’t go on missions when you’ve got fresh flowers in your bag?”

satoru whines at that as he instinctively webs his backpack again, sulking until you’re leaping forward to give him another tight hug. alas, you would’ve preferred the comfort of his familiar hoodie but you can settle for the spandex of his suit as you squeeze him tight, ignoring the cold air that seeps into your bones.

“thank you, thank you ’toru . .” you smile, pulling away slightly before you take in the state of him. you didn’t have much time before, but now you can fully appreciate his white stark hair that matches the snow outside and the blue of his eyes that mirror his suit.

“it’s the thought that counts right?” he asks awkwardly, scratching his head with the hand that clutches his mask.

you burst out laughing, “yes. yes it indeed is,” you smoothen out his hair, but not before you’re forming an idea, “i’ll— i’ll go put these in water and see if i can salvage them. you, stay here.”

with one peck to his cheek, you’re off back to your house but the bouquet of flowers is only left on your bedside table. in your hands are something else, a scarf and beanie that you take back to the area of the rubbish chute.

it’s not a place you deem romantic, but you’d never pass up a surprise visit from your superhero boyfriend. when you get back he’s removing the fallen petals from his bag, interrupting his activity when you place the scarf around his neck.

“here,” you smile, wrapping it around once and tucking in the ends, “it’s cold.”

satoru looks at you like everything good in the world, a bright grin breaking through when your eyes meet his in the midst of your adjusting.

“just so you know, you might not see this scarf ever again, sweetness.”

you laugh, “why? cause it’s got my scent all over it?”

gojo shrugs and gestures, “partially, but also it might fall off while i’m doing big boy things and swingin’ around in the neighbourhood.”

you push his shoulder lightly and joke, “if my scarf touches the city ground, you’re never hearing from me again.”

and all he does is cross his heart and hold out his hand, “i humbly hold your promise to my heart, your royal highness.”

gently you pull him towards you with the scarf ends, careful not to choke him. there, your lips collide with his glossed ones that manage to stay like that despite the cold weather, while your chapped ones only surprise him. but he swallows the shock soon enough, humming into the kiss softly as he wraps his suited arms around you. you’re so warm, puffer jacket and all and his neck is already heating up from the scarf and his flustered state, enough heat to fuel him through the night.

when oxygen becomes scarce you find that you need to pull away, met again with his pretty eyes that soften just by looking at you, but you both know that he needs to go when the notifications on his phone don’t stop. it’s probably his trackers notifying him about the villain, so you help him put on his mask, making sure the eye holes fit exactly where it needs to go and the sewing lines up with the rest of his suit. the beanie goes on last.

“baby— i . . i just needed to come see you before i fight green goblin,” he mumbles, brushing hair from your face and even with the barrier between the both of you, you know he’s smiling under, “some good luck would suffice, don’t ya think?”

“it would. now, go.” you pat his cheek, pulling away reluctantly as he slings his backpack and you suddenly feel cold again. “stay safe, spider-man.”

satoru cannot wait until he’s in your arms again, so he lunges forward and pulls his mask up just to his nose to give you one last kiss and you indulge him; when your eyes open, he’s already on the ledge.

“merry christmas, baby.” you can see the familiar stunning smile and a soft confession before he’s hopping off and you’re running to it to watch him swing away with a loud, lovesick laugh that sounds a little too much like the star student, gojo satoru, but it doesn’t matter when you know you’re the only one who knows his secret.

part two

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!

He’s fucking tired.

In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.

In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.

This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.

He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.

Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.

Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.

“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.

“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”

Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”

“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”

“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”

“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”

Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”

Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”

“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”

Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”

“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”

“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.

Uhg.

It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Lego still not sponsoring me (dark!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is a nerd who needs to get sprayed with water for being a fucking creep. You're an adorable cashier at the Lego Store in Berlin who doesn't know any better and is too nice to lose. He will have you. Mostly because he wants someone to do his Lego sets with.

Details count: 2922 AO3 TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig.

You didn’t want to build Millenium Falcon with him. 

You didn’t want to shower or eat, you didn’t want to do anything besides crying, and even though your tears, as he expected, were beautiful and adorable, it was kinda hard for König to take care of your mental and physical needs while he was rock hard from watching you cry so sweetly. 

König is patient, kind, and a model citizen through and through. Why are you upset? He is doing everything he can, just to make you smile! Seriously, Schatzi, the desire to make him as miserable as you possibly can doesn’t make you pretty or cute or even the least bit adorable. Good thing that he is used to feeling sad and kinda of bullied – you’re lucky he doesn’t even try to feel good anymore. Not in his destiny book to live a good life. — I brought food. 

You groan lightly, whimpering somewhere in the corner of his basement. To your justification, his basement is a bit dirty. He forgot to visit the house for months after deployment, which was never enough to fill out the blanks of loneliness in the empty rooms. His dogshits methods of choosing decorations also made the mere existence in the house a hard mission even in itself. He looked at the anime posters in the guest rooms, which made him want to sell the property to anyone willing to pay 50 Euros for the processing fees. The posters(Sword Art Online because why the hell not, he likes cool swords and a power fantasy about a loser getting the chick) and artwork of his queen and savior, The Busty Blond Lady From Fate because, unlike those waifu-obsessed freaks, he did have a life and not enough time to actually remember her name. Something about light sabers. Or cats. — Are you going to kill me? 

He sighs because you sound like a broken record. All the time – the questions about his intentions, like you can’t see the tent in his pants every time you open your eyes, about letting you go, about at least allowing you to text your family that you decided to change your country of residence and would need to revoke your German visa. You’re way more soft than he thought you’d initially be – no fighting, no arguing, just pure terror and desire to die every time his hands brush over you. König is a sweet guy, as sweet as someone like him can be – but he only has a few weeks until his next mission, and even a few days of your moping around is bound to make him not just blue-balled, but also very, extremely, offensively hot-headed. 

He spent two days with you chained up in his basement and, he thinks, that should be enough for foreplay. He is extremely generous and kind – usually, at this point, he’d already start breaking the fingers of whoever poor fuck is his torture victim for the mission. 

— I don’t want to kill you. 

You whimper – somehow, his answer didn’t calm you down. Fucking women and their inability to talk to their kidnappers – he considers spiking your food just this once, so he could have a nice session with your little drunk self and some roofies but, of course, he is a nice guy who brought you takeout in a reheatable container, with a cute plastic fork and some sparkling water in a glass, just so you won’t feel like he is making you eat some garbage. It’s good food, too – he’d love to cook like this, but the heights of his skills are runny eggs and burnt coffee. He hopes you like the Italian because it’s the most inoffensive stuff he could have brought you without resorting to pizza and cup noodles. He will never let you eat cup noodles on his watch. 

— Are you going to rape me? 

He can’t exactly say no because, as a matter of fact, pulling your cute body under his is one of his intentions. He wanted to do it since he was you in this fucking store, but, of course. saying this to a pretty girl is lame. And completely counter-productive. And would make him a villain in your eyes, even though he tries so fucking hard to be a hero. He can make you feel good if you were to just open your pretty legs for him and moan under his tongue – god knows, he wants to make you feel good. He wonders what would it take for him to please you. If he could have a full-time job at this. 

— Nein. Thought I told you already. 

— I don’t…I shouldn’t believe you. 

He shook his head, pushing the plate(he had to go out of his way to actually put the pasta from the tray to a proper plate, enjoy this, woman) towards you. You’re adorable like this – naked, trembling, a bit too weak to actually fight him over not eating anything for the past two days – you’re repeating the same conversation over and over again and König wouldn’t mind living in a groundhog day if the loop would end with his fucking you on that thin mattress each time. 

Speaking of mattresses – he needs to get you a thicker one. 

Speaking of thicker mattresses – he needs to relocate you into his bedroom as soon as possible. 

Speaking of his bedroom – he is fucking bricked. 

— If you don’t trust me, why do you ask? 

You bite your lips. He can see you’re hungry and thirsty – he doesn’t want to forcefully feed you, so, yeah, you better be very hungry very soon. He pushes the plate towards you, hoping you won’t launch it on his head. He survived worse, a 6’4 British dude in a ski mask falling on him with the speed of Brexit, but getting hit by a plate when your angry girlfriend is being an angry girlfriend is…the best thing that could ever happen to him, actually. Gott, he is miserable. 

— I…I don’t know. Don’t want to get killed. 

— I won’t kill you. 

— But you will hurt me. 

— I don’t have to do that, Liebling. 

No, he doesn’t. 

But he sees the way your plushy thighs are squeezing into that tiny corner where your mat is, your squishy body getting all shaky and trembly, your lips in a tight line with tiny blood droplets from biting on them too much – and, by his fucking god, you’re beautiful. He wants to make you wet, to make you squirm, to make you beg and cry for mercy as he pounds into the sweetness of your cunt. He wants to try you on the inside and out, lick you all over from the inside, and then make you lick your love juices from his lips. 

König knows he is hard and can’t really hide it – it’s useless now, really, he is being very nice and considerate to you. Changing your life is hard, especially with how quickly you moved to his place – like a good boyfriend, he should help you adjust. And aid you in recognizing that he is, in fact, your boyfriend and future husband. The perfect partner to ever exist. — What is it? 

— Pasta. It’s…it’s good. Should be good. He is nervous, anxious. Seeing a pretty girl in her natural habitat – a Lego store – is one thing. He was barely able to talk to you properly, especially right after his deployment, where the only female attention he ever got was Roze asking to cover her or additional female soldiers groaning in pain as he stomped them. But you…he shouldn’t be colonel around you – absolutely not. You’re soft and civilian, you’re as polite as a girl in a basement could be, and you deserve to have something nice for once in your life. Licking his lips, König gently picks up a fork and presses a small amount of pasta – rich, creamy, with some nice cheese that smells divine - -against your lips. 

You refuse.

A smart move, he could have poisoned it – so he thinks for a few seconds, staring at you like a smart girlie you are, and then – lifts his hood. If only barely, revealing his scarred chin and bruised lips. The initial swelling after getting his head bumped by a guy who was speaking like an edgy teenager in the Counter-Strike lobby was already gone by the time he managed to get you into his basement – but no amount of rest could hide all other marks from his job. 

Despite being a seasoned mercenary with hundreds of killed targets and completed objectives, he feels…insecure. You’re a nice girl, a good girl, the type that used to look at him with hatred while he was bullied at school. Hatred or pity – but you only look at him with fear, and it cements his understanding that you’re not going to give in to loving him so easily.

König sighs deeply, his lips, curved into that awkward, boyish smile that creeps on his face every time he as much as thinks about you, now transforming into a scowl as you proceed to whimper and try to get lost in the wall behind you. Like he wouldn’t be able to track your scent if you would disappear. He slowly presses his fork towards his mouth, chewing on the food – showing you that it’s not poisoned. 

He smiles again when he sees you slowly parting your lips, expecting him to feed you with less of a fuss. He’d propose something else – maybe even untying your hands and allowing you to actually for yourself, but something in your helpless state made his cock throb in his pants. God, König knows he isn’t his strongest soldier, but could he please make you less adorable? He doesn’t want to push you on your knees and make you suck on him until he whimpers, but the way you lick all of the cheese from your lips and try your best to look presentable in front of him… The process of feeding someone shouldn’t really be sexual, but König gently pushes the hair away from your face and lifts up the fork over and over, sometimes only changing to bring a glass of water to your lips. He can do this all day. Every day. Pleasing you already becomes second nature – and he spends most of his life thinking that the only thing he can take care of is his rifle and a few tortured enemies that need their teeth extracted. You require gentle handling – and he wants nothing more but to give you that. Just…a bit later. Preferably after the already came in your pussy at least two or three times and made you choke on his dick as a little thank-you gift. 

You finish eating after a short while, thanking him for bringing you a napkin to clean your lips. König gently caresses your head, enjoying the sensation of your hair under his palm – it’s like petting a cat. A soft little pet just for him and no one else – if only he could actually bring you to like him. He has a few bond activities in mind, though. — You liked it, ja? 

You lick your lips again, and his breath hitches. This is going to be hard, this is going to be impossible, it’s worse than having to work with high Krueger on a ship that made everyone feel like they were the ones doing crack in the backroom of their makeshift base. 

— I…I did. 

He pets your head again like you’re his pet – and you gently move your head to lean into his touch. Perhaps you’re dumber than he thinks. Or way smarter – a clever strategy to make him relax and nice to you without making him too suspicious. You slowly get back into your corner, but König wouldn’t have any of it – he drags you back by your arm, making you whimper and sob in his hold. It’s bad, he doesn’t want you to squirm from under him as much as you do, but…if you don’t want to be a good girl, he might as well force you to. 

You cry as he pushes you deep into the corner, his hands roaming over your body. Thank god he ripped your clothes before you woke up – now there isn’t anything protecting you from his hands, not even that adorable bra he ripped in pieces because, as much as he loved wearing a uniform with straps and buttons everywhere, he could not figure out how to take this thing off you without breaking it. The last time he was sleeping with a woman, she wore a sports bra that could be taken off easily. It’s your fault that you decided to be more girly, really. Not his. 

His hands cup your breasts roughly. Tugs and twists your nipples, a few shaky moans telling him exactly how sensitive you are – he might not have a girl in a hot minute, too busy with being the best freaking mercenary in the world, but even he knows how to take care of a pretty thing like you. Your tits fit in his hands perfectly, even more, reasons to believe you were just made for him. Not for some lame job at a Lego store counter – you should be waiting on your knees in his bedroom, with your mouth open wide and neat to fit his cock right in. With some sweet things lingering on your tongue as he bullies himself right in, getting what he deserves for protecting peace – and installing violence – while doing his job. He might not be the best freaking guy around, but he deserves something nice. 

He pinches your nipples until they’re firm and swollen, every little cry escaping from your lips is only encouraging him to proceed. Licks on the open skin of your neck until his eneve stubble makes you whimper from how sensitive you are – it should be painful, he thinks, with how bloody the little bite marks from his teeth have become. 

König marks you as thoroughly as possible, smiling each time you cry and beg for him to stop. You’re changing between bad German and good English, between loud cries and small whimpers, which he can’t determine from pleasure to pain. Not like he cares, too determined to make you cry his name – even though you probably don’t know it. All of his desires to claim you taking full power now, not listening to the way you plead with him. Whimper for him. Your skin is a clear canvas, allowing him to paint you with hickeys and marks, enjoying the little blood droplets covering your collarbones. 

— Quiet, please. Don’t…don’t move, Schatzi. I don’t want to hurt you. 

— Please, please, just…anything but… — Won’t take long. Promise. 

— I don’t want to- — Quiet. I know you don’t, Liebling. Just…Scheisse, you…fuck. 

— Stop! — Can’t. I apologize, Schatzen. Relax for me, ja?

He whispers, he whimpers, he is almost out of his mind when he can finally put his tongue on your swollen nipples. For some weird, depraved reason, he almost expects the milk to start flowing from your chest, allowing him to drink up as much as he wants. If he could get you pregnant, he might enjoy it for a few months – although having a kid on his hip isn’t as fun as it could have. He tried to babysit Hutch kids once when he brought them to base – and it was the worst fucking day of his life. Besides, little children can’t be around Legos – it's already a deal breaker for someone like him. 

Speaking of legos…

You wiggle in his grasp, as good as you can with your hands still in the handcuffs – he should give you that one, at least you aren’t just laying lifelessly in front of him. At least you’re putting up a fight. At least he doesn’t feel too bad about restraining you without proper reasoning. You lick your lips again, that cute tongue of yours going over all the bite marks. You take a deep breath, shaking in his hold. God, he can just look in your face the whole day – barely knows how to handle himself around you. — I…I thought you wanted to…build this set with me? Smart girl. Way smarter than he gave you credit for – you know how to make him stop in his tracks and finally look at you differently. Maybe, you’re too good for him. Maybe, he doesn’t really care about that. Millennium Falcon, still sitting in the box – König hoped you’d start slowly putting it together but, seemingly, you need a bit of encouragement. The only thing that could tug him away from your breasts is the expensive set sitting just next to him. 

Might start bonding with you as well. He tugs away from your nipples with a loud pop, an obnoxiously wet sound emerging as a thin line of saliva connects your breasts and his tongue. You whimper when he smiles, that scarred face of his twisting in a huge grin. Knows he’s not the most charming person around, but it’s not like you have any choice now – not with the limited options he gave you. Like a good girl, you’d probably pick doing Lego Sets with him than taking his cock in that tight pussy of yours. He’d be satisfied with any outcome. — J…ja. I’d like that.  He has to give this one to you – you really know how to get a man going.

Bu building this insane set with him, that is.

[thecursedjazz]

Postal 1 dude isn't evil (and is genuinely the most morally grounded and decent person we've actually met in the Postal Universe)

From what we gather he was living a very normal life prior to going crazy, not like the other dudes who go on senseless rampages when tasked with mundane everyday things. As Promo material does state he's a well educated and mannered person so it's only realistic that this man did have a genuine job and was generating a level of income prior to his decline in mental health and moving to Paradise.

And as stated before he is well mannered in the sense of being stated a "quiet nice boy" and "voted the most likely to succeed". From what we gather this guy was the text book example of a model citizen. The only "flaw" is that he kept referring to a girl he only dated once as his girlfriend but even then that could come down his delusions along with his lack of grip on reality causing him to genuinely think she's his girlfriend or  the fact he's canonically quiet (as shown from the Promo material and also the fact that he doesn't actually physically speak AT ALL during the game) and most likely doesn't understand social ques as of it.

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

But the most important thing is that he doesn't even have malicious intentions.

The very first thing he proposes after being "attacked" by "groups of lunatics trying to invade his home" is.....go the sherrif for help. The Dude didn't have any Intention to go on a murder spree, he'd rather of just went to the authorities like any other average Joe. The whole thing really tells us that he's not usually a violent person.

Even rewinding back to level one: the war journals (and Vince) did state that the Dude was entirely convinced that he was being attacked by group of lunatics, one of which even firing rockets at him, goes without saying that self defence is really the only option here.

Course it remains solely as self defence until the Dude reaches the train station, the significance being his war journal where he writes "if I can get out i can warn everybody...YES, I CAN WARN EVERYBODY!". The dudes goal has shifted into saving the country as a whole rather than himself which ultimately steers him into going to the air force to find out what has happened to cause the supposed hate plague. The dudes actions represent him more as selfless now with him now doing this in the bigger scheme of things rather than his own self preservation. If its not clear already: maniacs wouldn't care about warning/ saving people from a hate plague, Dude 2 most likely wouldn't give a shit and let it spread since he was totally cool with nuking the entirety of paradise and its innocent civilians.

Furthermore he openly states that he doesn't want to kill people. At the trailer park he writes that "There must be others like me, immune to this...germ warfare or whatever it is". Practically he's saying that he'd much rather run into some normal people instead of having to kill them, it's a stark contrast to the other dudes with the Postal 1 dude appearing as genuinely empathetic whereas the others will literally kill people for something as simple as waiting in line and afterwards not think anything of it.

Also very worth noting that when he enters the ghetto he mentions he's genuinely worried he'll get mugged, we're really getting the picture that he's literally just some normal ass guy with the idea of going to the rough side of town shakes him up.

(Even worth pointing out that only for the ghetto does he go back to calling it a diary like he's momentarily lost his soldier/war mentality at the thought of going into the rough side of town).

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

So simple and short:

Postal 1 dudes literally just some average everyday guy (who's been through some really fucked up shit that's forever gonna remain unexplained beyond the veteran theory) who's trying to do the right thing but he's woefully misguided due to his deteriorating mental state as well as being possessed by an entity beyond his broken minds comprehension.

He's literally the complete opposite to every other postal dude (and if anything he's one of the most morally grounded people in the franchise as crazy as it is)

Oh and if this wasn't enough: rws did say on a twitter post that he's literally Just some average guy who's had some shitty days.

(I wrote this at 4am so soz if it's all over the place)

[bejeweledblondie]

König Headcannons

A/N: just like Ghost’s headcannon’s I’m taking inspiration from my experiences living on a military base

Warnings: NSFW

König x F! Reader

• König initially first met you while you were volunteering with the United Nations & Doctors Without Borders

• you were administering vaccines to children in the Middle East, & providing medical services to the underprivileged communities

• he was awe of your empathy & kindness towards these children, you treated them like they were your own & took your job super seriously

• KorTac was providing security for the community from potential terrorist attacks, as taking any western countries citizen for ransom seemed enticing

• After a surprise attack on the camp that was set up, he immediately brought you to safety & held you as you sobbed into chest out of fear for your life & all those innocent civilians that caught in the gunfire

• “shhh, schatz it’ll be okay” he whispered to you

• he finally asked you out after months of waiting for the right time

• you were giving him his flu shot when he asked you out

• your first date was in his off post apartment, he had cooked you homemade Austrian food

• his cooking is divine, he always chef’s it up in the kitchen

• you guys moved in only a few months into dating (which seems early but in the military world you’re slacking)

• he proposed with his Oma’s ring

• he also asked your parents over FaceTime for your hand in marriage, they were reluctant but he was very persuasive

• you’d probably wind up working at the hospital on post, & the soldiers that come in 100% know you’ll take care of them

• during Christmas leave both of your families meet in Vienna for Christmas time, I mean cmon Vienna is gorgeous at Christmas

• you two announce your pregnancy at Christmas dinner

• his Oma jumped up & ran over to hug you

• this man’s genes are freakin strong

• you definitely get pregnant with twins

• König is deployed when you find out & you tell him over FaceTime

• he cried pure tears of joy & his whole team celebrated

• due to the fact he’s like a giant he produces large babies

• you’d have to get a c-section for the birth because of it, & König makes it in the last second.

• he still had his hood on & was in his tactical gear scaring the entire nursing staff

• imagine their surprise when he just asks where his wife is

• you have a girl & a boy

• they’d definitely be named after his grandparents

• he sings lullaby’s in Austrian to them to introduce them to his home country’s culture

• he hates leaving for deployments now that they’re born & he definitely became more ruthless on the battlefield due to it

• he 100% would bring the babies to work whenever it was a mandatory fun day or a super relaxed day at work

• these hardened military men would be all over your babies & arguing as to who gets to hold them next

• they’re very well protected & König made sure of that

• he’s a family man at heart & he will do anything to protect them

✨NSFW ✨

• you weren’t very experienced when you met König & when you first saw his cock you were in absolute disbelief a man could be that hung

• you let your intrusive thoughts win & asked if he’d fit inside of you

•it took a lot of foreplay for him to fully fit snug in you

• he definitely would say the most absolutely filthy things in Austrian to you even if you understood them or not

• massive size & breeding kink

• he just loves how small your hands are compared to his cock you need both of them to jerk him off

• when he found out you were pregnant he was elated that his efforts worked out

• loved to see your body change & baby bump grow

• also loved how horny you were as a pregnancy symptom ( it killed him that you’d have to deal with that alone while he was deployed)

• like most military men he too has a collection of your nudes & plenty of videos of him fucking you

• he loves your hips & how wide they are to him it digs deep into the primal instinct of carrying his babies

• König is just as stealthy in bed as he is in on the battlefield

[qqueenofhades]

The thing that confuses me about the "don't vote" left (not the "I don't want to vote", I'm talking explicitly the "don't vote" left. I don't agree with the "I don't want to vote" left either but I can understand their logic) is they lose me at the final step of the logic. I've tried to connect the logic here, even if I don't agree with a political position I do try to understand where people are coming from (empathy for someones situation is not the same as cosigning it), but I just can't connect the dots here in a way that isn't deeply cruel. Does United States politics prioritize the lives of those in the US (and often white) over those in the Global South? Yes, it's a fucking atrocity. We should continue to make noise about it, cus Biden has used less drones and that shows progress, even if it's not enough. The part where I lose the plot is where the conclusion to this injustice is to let even more people die? Cus that's kinda how I see the idea of not voting: I can pick between shit and more shit, and at the end of the day, I'm picking whoever allows the most people to make it to the next day. Given Trumps stance on everything but specifically climate change, I feel like Biden is pretty significant harm reduction.

I don't think both things can't be true: that every life lost is a travesty we should not forget AND the more people we can save is worth fighting for.

The thing is, I have seen nothing among the "don't vote" far left (and I am talking here specifically about the people who both loudly announce their intention not to vote and try to convince others to do the same) to convince me that they actually care about harm reduction or stopping genocide. They only care about what makes them look the most Correct and/or superior to the Democrats. They yelled bloody murder about Obama using drones, they went dead quiet about Trump using them even more (even when he nearly started WWIII by assassinating the Iranian general Soleimani with one), and then said nothing at all when Biden reduced the drone program to almost nothing and withdrew the US from a failed war in Afghanistan it had long ago lost. Now they will yell all day about Israel/Hamas (something that Biden did not start and has had no direct military role in responding to) but they don't care about Russian genocide of Ukraine and Syria, Chinese threats to invade Taiwan, etc, because those governments are "anti-western/anti-American" and therefore should be defended. Their opposition to human suffering is extremely conditional and rests on whether they can look good out of it, and they never interrogate the hypocrisies of their own ideology.

Likewise: every country in the world prizes its own citizens above those of other countries. It's just a basic fact. Yes, the US has a grim history of intervening in other countries and causing untold civilian damage (especially during the Cold War and then in post-9/11 War on Terrorism). Yes, that legacy is complex and needs to be acknowledged. But literally none of that will be fixed, not to mention all the vulnerable people in America itself who will be punished, by Trump getting into power again. Biden is not just a grudging "lesser evil," but has done a lot of truly good and helpful things, regardless of the Online Leftists' constant lies, misinformation, and misrepresentation. If you spend all your time announcing what a champion you are for non-American marginalised people and/or those undergoing terrible suffering, and then deliberately and knowingly adhere to a course of action that will increase that suffering tenfold not only for those people but your own neighbors, friends, and family, then no, I don't believe you are a brave champion of social justice. You just want to know what categories of people you can gleefully and righteously punish and make to suffer for not believing the same things as you, that makes you just as dangerous as the right-wing fascists, and I can and will call out your ass accordingly.

[animentality]

can I just talk about Godzilla Minus One and how it was absolutely fucking brilliant for a minute?

It centered around a disgraced kamikaze pilot who hesitated, who was scared to die, so sabotaged his own plane before he could fly out. and because he sabotaged his plane, a crew of engineers had to hang back at the base, to try and fix it.

and then of course, this being a Godzilla movie, Godzilla attacks. kills most of them, excluding him and an engineer, who immediately blames him. says that if he had just died, then the rest of them would still be alive too.

his "cowardice" saved his life, and he was haunted by it, ashamed of "betraying" his country simply by wanting to live.

he spent the whole movie struggling with survivors guilt and feeling like he let his country down just by continuing to breathe.

and he couldn't forget the men he saw die, and he can't escape memories of the war, because he's living in the shattered remains of Tokyo after it was bombed, the place he used to call home, where his community is gone and his family is dead, and there is no escaping the death and devastation.

and the people who are still living? they hate him. they blame him for the loss of the war. they blame him for not dying for them.

and because he's haunted by his past, he cannot live in the present.

the guilt of being alive is too tightly wound around his heart. it can't beat even once without him being reminded of all the people whose hearts were nothing but dust now, and the outcome of the war feels like it's solely laid upon his chest.

and that's all very heavy. and I cried.

but that wasn't what I cried at. Because it wasn't the hopelessness that had the most impact on me. it was the end of the movie, where he was given the choice to redeem himself. to die for his country this time, and save them from Godzilla.

and he said he was ready, he can do it this time, he will be the hero. he will lay down his life this time.

only...

...this time, the engineer, who called him a coward... designed his new plane for this mission. and he gave him an ejector seat.

and the movie says this:

"This country has treated life far too cheaply. Poorly armored tanks. Poor supply chains resulting in half of all deaths from starvation and disease. Fighter planes built without ejection seats and finally, kamikaze and suicide attacks. That's why this time I'd take pride in a citizen led effort that sacrifices no lives at all! This next battle is not one waged to the death, but a battle to live for the future."

And it's like...

Oh it's so corny, it's always corny, when the message of a story is simply, life is precious.

But I don't fucking care.

It was still brilliant. It still hits every time. That's what made me cry. Not the hopelessness or the sad things, but the way the movie could be so heavy... while also being hopeful. optimistic.

Everything about that movie was just so perfect. A Godzilla movie actually set immediately after WW2 is a genius idea. The post war devastation. The criticism of Japanese imperialism, the war, and the way it treated its own people, both at home and abroad. The condemnation of kamikaze attacks and the callous disregard for human life.

And the deeply human story, of a man who was afraid to live, after seeing so much death.

Choosing to die wasn't easy. But choosing to live was even harder.

[raylasgf]

i use this blog for fandom purposes only, but i can’t not post about this today.

you probably haven’t heard, but one year ago (28/2/2023), in Tempi (Greece), happened the worst train collision in the country’s history. one of the two trains was full of university students returning to their homes to celebrate a national holiday with their families.

57 of these people never got to their destination. 57 innocent people lost their lives because two trains were in the same train track, and nobody noticed. in greece, in 2023.

some of the people who were presumed dead were never even found. some people were identified through body parts. and guess what? no one has paid yet. not even the minister of transport, who signed a resignation after the crash, but still got added into the parliament during the may 2023 elections.

the same person who, one month before the crash, was biting people’s heads off because they ‘dared to question the safety of the train tracks’ after some workers filed a complaint about the unsafe conditions of the train controls.

everyone who travelled by train in greece before the accident is alive BY LUCK. because the fucking comms were not working. it wasn’t just a temporary issue, they had not been working for YEARS. and let me remind you, the government did nothing to prevent this from happening . how are we, greek citizens, supposed to feel safe in this country when we’re alive by luck??

and no one is talking about this. please raise awareness. the people who lost their lives need JUSTICE.

this is murder and not an ‘accident’

rest in peace to the 57 souls who went so unfairly. we will never forget.

[purrrrplecats]

oh no i found it

the in correct quote generato-

(there a lot so if you don't want to read lots don't click keep reading)(theres loads i think 50-)

Scar: Grian and I are so close we even share a toothbrush. Grian: We what?

(he appoligised abt the joke later on.)

Mumbo: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Grian: Hey, are you alright with swearing? Asking for a friend. Scar: Yeah? Grian: Bitch.

Mumbo: Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Grian: No… not really. Mumbo: Are you going to do something about it? Grian: Hm… nah.

Grian: Your future self is talking shit about you right now. Scar: Jokes on them. I'll ruin their fucking life.

Pearl: If looking good was a crime, you’d be a law abiding citizen.

Pearl: I’m proud to say I’ve come over my fear of ghosts! Grian: Eyy, that’s the spirit! Pearl: gasps whErE???!!!??

Impulse: So I have made the decision to trust you. Grian: A horrible decision, really.

Grian: Gem, is that my mug you’re drinking out of? Gem: No, it’s mine. Grian: It… looks just like the one I have… Gem: You don’t have one like this anymore.

(its and mug with pink and blue snails on it.)

Gem: This should be illegal! Pearl: It is.

Pearl: Okay, let's split 'em up and make 'em sing. Impulse: Two of you take Gem, the other two take Grian. Scar: Right. Bad cop, good cop. Mumbo: You know, it's interesting that they say "bad cop, good cop," because policing in this country is so broken it's really just "bad cop, bad cop". Impulse: Scar, you're with them. Scar: Got it.

Grian: Norwegia. Is. Not. A. COUNTRY! Scar: Then where are Norwegian people from!? Impulse: NORWAY!!

Impulse: Would you slap Pearl- Grian: Yes. Impulse: I didn't even finish! Grian: Sorry, continue. Impulse: Would you slap Pearl for 10 dollars? Grian: I would do it for free. Pearl: Rude…

(you could also swap Grian and Pearl around because I mean, SKYLINGS)

Grian: If you want my advice- Pearl: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your significant other. Multiple times. Grian: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, they’ve also tried to kill me. Scar: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

Scar, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go. Impulse: But how- Scar, ignoring them: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

Gem: I am strong! I beat Grian at arm wrestling! Impulse: Anyone can beat Grian at arm wrestling! Grian: Hey-

(sure Impulse sure-)

Gem: Grian, I am nothing if not a Woman of principle. Gem: Now let’s break into this apartment.

Pearl: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Gem: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

(again you could swap them around)

Pearl: Hey, you want a tarot reading? Mumbo: Those are Pokemon cards. Pearl: You got a magikarp. Mumbo: … Pearl: It means 'fuck you'.

Grian: Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere Gem: Where did you get that? Grian: My pocket. Gem: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Grian: Skills.

Scar: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Scar: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

Impulse: COMPANY IS COMING! I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE DISNEY ON ICE IN ONE MINUTE! Impulse: SCAR IF YOU HAVEN'T MADE YOUR BED THROW IT AWAY IT'S TOO LATE TO MAKE IT NOW! Impulse: GET RID OF THE COUCHES, WE CAN'T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE S I T !

Gem: Hey Pearl, check out this funny .GIF I found! Pearl: It’s pronounced “jif”. Gem: Huh? Pearl: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Gem: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Pearl: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Gem: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Pearl: It’s exactly the same! Gem: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Pearl: Gentrification. Gem: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Pearl: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser)! Gem: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Gem: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Pearl: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Gem: Huh. Didn’t know that. Gem: You’re still wrong, though. Pearl: You just hate me because I’m right. Gem: I just hate you in general. Pearl: You mean in “geh-neral”? Gem: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

Scar: What's worse than a heartbreak? Grian: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging. Mumbo: Waking up in the morning. Gem: Waking up.

Scar: I love you. Grian: Me too.

Grian: Fight me! Scar: gets on one knee and pulls out a ring Scar: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

Pearl: What’s your favorite color? Gem: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature. Pearl: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP? Gem: My favorite color is pink.

Grian: Do you love me? Mumbo: We’re literally married. Grian: Yeah, but as friends or—

(logic is that Waffle duo got married as a bit like Clingy duo (Tubbo and Tommy) but G is like Tommy and doesn't want to get a divorce because he wants to commit it the bit.)

Grian: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Pearl: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Grian: They're not. Pearl: Haha, very funny. Grian: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Pearl: No… what happened? Grian: …Why would you fall for this again-

Scar: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Gem: Bees? Scar: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Gem: Wait- Impulse approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly

Scar: Mx. Grian, I accidentally dropped my seed into my mouth and then I accidentally ate it. Am I going to have a lemon tree grow inside my belly? Grian: Well, let's think about it. Did you also swallow a wet paper towel? Scar: Yes. Grian: Grian: Alright, let's go to the nurse.

Grian: Some people are like slinkies. Pearl: What? Grian: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Pearl: Pearl: Please don't push Scar down the stairs. Grian, pushing Scar down the stairs: Too late.

Pearl: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Scar: When have I been paranoid? Pearl: Um, when you first met Gem you thought they were an undercover cop…? Scar: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Pearl: And last year you were sure Impulse was a mermaid! Scar: They hate wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! Later, when Scar’s theory is proven wrong Pearl: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Scar: I still think Impulse is a mermaid.

Grian: Scar, Pearl keeps bullying me at school. Scar: Ask your teacher for help. The next day… Grian, to their teacher: Will you help me beat up Pearl?

Pearl: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

Scar: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

(same quote 2 times in a row!?!?!)

Impulse, near tears: Please, Grian, I don’t speak meme! I don't know what a 'yeet' is!

Gem: I need to dye my hair. Impulse: … Gem: Or get another tattoo. Impulse: … Gem: Or a new piercing. Impulse: Why? Gem: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

Grian: aggressively throws pencil at Scar Grian, deadpan: Oh no. I’ve been stabbed. I’ve been impaled.

(Double Life = soulmates)

Scar : So you like cats? Grian: Yeah. Scar : tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table

Impulse: What have you done with Scar ?

Grian: Nothing. Why, do you think I should?

Pearl: Scar , let’s go! Grian : Oh, yeah, about telling Mom and Dad, I was thinking about writing maybe a letter. Pearl: Okay, you know what? That’s it, you had your chance. Grian : What-? Pearl: Mom, Dad, Scar smoked pot in college. Grian : You are such a tattletale! Grian : Mom, Dad, you remember that time you walked into my room and smelled marijuana? Well, I told you it was Jimmy who was smoking the pot but… It was me. I’m sorry. Pearl: And Dad, you know that mailman that you got fired? He didn’t steal your Playboy’s, Grian did. Grian : Yeah, well, hurricane Gloria didn’t break the porch swing Pearl did. Pearl: Grian hasn’t worked for a year! Grian : Pearl and Gem are living together! Pearl: Grian married Scar in Vegas and got divorced AGAIN! Jimmy: I love Jacques Cousteau! Etho: I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle! Doc: I wanna gooo!!

(I changed some names, aka added Doc, Etho and Jimmy, also Etho is the mum Docs the dad, and Tim is ofc the younger brother.) (the family situation is defo not from TTSBC)

Mumbo: I will send my army to attack! Mumbo: releases a dumpster of raccoons

Gem, throwing their head into Pearl's lap: Tell me I'm pretty! Pearl, lovingly stroking their hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

(awwwwww)

Squad is playing Among Us Grian: I believe Pearl is innocent, I was with them the whole time. Mumbo, what were you doing? Mumbo: Oh, I was just murdering… I mean, nothing!

(I was gonna change Pearl to Scar and change Mumbo to Impulse because Impulsetor)

Pearl, in the hospital: Will you visit me when I get out? Grian: Lol nah, I hate graveyards.

[ofmermaidstories]

So on Good Friday I had drafted up a little post just—I dunno. It started off with me talking about my lunch (broiche toast with peanut butter, some slices of overpriced smoked cheddar and a pottle of cherry tomatoes that i’d halved and dressed with wholegrain mustard, salt and pepper and sesame oil), because i enjoyed it, and then because i had been thinking about it, i had mentioned how Australian grocery prices have climbed well above the global average.

I mentioned some of my favourite people to follow, on tiktok! Food accounts—the woman who does the Dollar Store budget videos, where she plans out meals around limited money, or accessibility. The young mum who’s videos are just her making lunch/dinner for her four little kids. The Palestinian man who used to review resturants and dishes before the war on Gaza—and who, before Tiktok took down the videos, had started posting himself making dishes from aid rations. In the end I just saved the post to my drafts because—there was no real point to the post, not really, beyond how unfair it is that food is swiftly becoming a luxury and how it shouldn’t be, for any of us, anywhere. Not us here in Australia with our 54% on average price increases, nor for American families that have to shop at Dollar Tree with their last $30 for the next two weeks.

And definitely not for the citizens of Gaza.

Israel is manufacturing a famine within Gaza’s borders. And just today, they murdered via airstrike a carload of World Central Kitchen aid workers. Seven in total, six foreign nationals and one Palestinian local. No aid organisation can operate within Gaza’s boarders without reporting their travel plans to the Israeli Invading Force. Their car was branded with the organisations logo. Israel has some of the best surveillance technology in the world—it is often the testing ground for the hot new stuff that then gets sold to the rest of our governments. Israeli knew who was in that car. And they targeted them anyway. And now because of their actions, the WCK is now “pausing (their) operations”. And who can blame them? Knowing that if you stay, you’re just putting more lives at risk—but it means how many less meals, now, less food for the Palestinians still there? All of our countries are cowards. The Australian government won’t even name Israel in its condemnation today, of the attack. The Australian government has let our only two real supermarket chains—Coles and Woolworths—create a duopoly where they can charge the public however much they want. We can’t help ourselves and we refuse to help other people—so what good are we, as a country? The boomers and the ignorant on facebook are too busy frothing at the mouth over the imaginary millionaire immigrants who come to Australia in boats and buy houses by the dozens, per family. So many of our problems—here in Australia, globally—would be solved if the majority of us realised the real enemy isn’t a people bomb-locked on their own land, or the refugees that make it here, or even each other but instead our own fucking governments, and the bastard corporations that are gripping them by the balls. I’m grateful for every meal I get to sit down to. But I would enjoy it a lot more if it were easier for all of us to eat—or if it were a CEO or politician or two on the plate itself.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

The Art of Healing: Chapter 8

pairing: wanda maximoff x agatha harkness

summary: intense smut and job applications... Wanda discovers that she has to live a life of her own choosing.

content warnings: smut, cunnilingus, enchanted strap-on, deethroating said enchanted strap, overstimulation

word count: 3.8k+

Series Masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The Start of New Beginnings

Scarlet wisps flowed smoothly around the room, Wanda’s fingers barely moving as she silently controlled her magic. Seated on the couch, she commanded her magic to paint the walls a dark red color, the order seeming almost thoughtless as her magic leaped at the instruction. 

Smiling, Wanda let her features morph into a pleased expression, the ease of controlling her magic both exciting and calming her. She can hear Agatha padding around in her study upstairs, the footsteps slow and heavy. Tilting her head, Wanda reluctantly looks back at the laptop in front of her. 

A clean logo sits innocently on the screen, the neutral colors unwavering even as Wanda’s concentration fails, scarlet wisps dissipating as she sighs. 

Who knew that applying for a job would be so fucking difficult.

Honestly, Wanda hadn’t given much thought to her future. She’d fully expected to work for HYDRA with Peitro by her side until they were no longer of use. Besides, it’s hard to plan your future when you’ve been orphaned in the streets of an impoverished country. 

Agatha was the one who introduced the idea of a job, blue eyes kind as she urged Wanda to think about her future. How to make a living, and be an actual citizen. Of course, Wanda had protested, pointing out that Agatha lived by herself in a remote cabin, but the brunette had just cackled and told her that she deserved it after hundreds of years of working her ass off. 

Returning her attention to the screen in front of her, Wanda exports her resume after giving it one final cursory glance. It was good, really good. Agatha had helped her, making it look professional and subtly lying to make Wanda appear more experienced than she was. 

‘Confidence is key, sweet cheeks,’ Was all she’d said, ignoring Wanda’s questions about how she’d somehow acquired all the forged skills written on the resume. 

After a few more grueling minutes, Wanda has her cover letter and resume attached to an email, her cursor hovering over the send button. She hesitates, sitting back slightly as she stares at the screen. 

Waves of self-doubt flood her, the company’s logo mocking her from the site she had pulled up. She felt inadequately prepared, having only attended one event at the company, Agatha’s smooth voice charming anyone within five feet of them. That’s how she’d met the current owner of the business, a formidable-looking woman whose sharp eyes had assessed her quickly. 

The company was well known within the BDSM community, offering a multitude of classes and events for members of the exclusive kink community. Wanda had been impressed at the professionalism of the whole event and somehow had managed to not make a fool of herself in front of the CEO. 

The rest of the night had seemed slightly absurd, time moving quickly as Agatha and she had been given a tour of the building. The woman, Elenor, had turned around abruptly at one point, gray eyes boring into Wanda’s, and uttering a single sentence before turning around and continuing the tour. 

“I want to see your application for my position in my inbox before the end of the week.”

Agatha had thrown her an approving look, and Wanda had simply nodded once, a soft ‘Yes, ma’am,’ leaving her lips. 

That had been two days ago, and now Wanda was stuck in a state of semi-panic and hopefulness as she stared blankly at the screen. Absent-mindedly realizing that Agatha’s pacing had stopped, Wanda blinked as she reached out with her magic. 

The lavender-tinged magic she’d grown used to lingered near the kitchen, and Wanda smiled as she tried something new. Reaching out, she sent a single wisp towards Agatha, commanding her magic to curl around the woman’s wrist and gently lead her towards the couch. 

“Ah, a new trick. Very clever, dear.” Agatha remarked, sipping on her water as she allowed herself to be led towards Wanda. Her blue eyes glanced towards the computer, taking in the unsent email before understanding dawned in them. She moved behind the couch, fingers grazing Wanda’s cheek briefly as she scanned the brief message. 

Hovering over her shoulder, Agatha placed a single hand on Wanda’s sternum, her thumb resting lightly against her throat. Plump lips grazed her ear, Wanda’s breath hitching as Agatha murmured, “If you hit send, I’ll reward you.”

That was all the encouragement Wanda needed, her finger only shaking slightly before clicking the blue send button. She took a deep breath, feeling a wave of nervousness and… relief. 

Chuckling slightly, Wanda marveled at how nervous she’d been. Really, it was a single email. One fucking email, and she’d stressed about it for two days. 

“Good girl,” Agatha murmured, and Wanda felt her panties dampen, blood rushing to her cheeks. “Come with me.”

Wanda didn’t need any additional encouragement, her fingers closing the laptop and reaching for Agatha’s hand within seconds. Strong fingers tangled with her own, pulling her closer until her body hit Agatha’s with a soft thump, lips colliding desperately as Wanda let out a soft groan. 

Making their way towards the bedroom, Señor Scratchy’s eyes following them from the kitchen, Wanda couldn’t help but grind against Agatha. She desperately needed friction, the arousal soaking her panties almost unbearable. 

Then, she felt it. The bulge in Agatha’s slacks, a telltale sign that she was packing. 

Pulling back briefly, Wanda let her hand wander down, fingers squeezing the strap through the silk fabric as Agatha groaned. Her eyes widened, shooting towards Agatha’s. 

The woman’s blue eyes were dark, her pupils dilated as she pulled Wanda’s towards the bed with a sense of urgency. “Yes, I can feel it.” She muttered in between nips and kisses on Wanda’s smooth neck. “It’s a new enchantment I’m trying out.”

Wanda felt a wave of arousal shoot through her. Something about intelligence really got her going, and Agatha was constantly showing her new spells or rune combinations she’d created. Of course, most of their lessons ended with Wanda on her knees, not that she minded. 

Strong hands grabbed the collar of her sweater, pushing backward until Wanda felt the back of her knees hit the mattress. An errant wave of Agatha’s hand slammed the door closed, the woman’s attention focused purely on the redhead seated before her. 

Green eyes locked onto the slight tent in Agatha’s pants, a tongue peeking out and swiping lazily across Wanda’s lips as she felt her thoughts run wild. God, she wanted to pin Agatha down and take the strap so far down her throat. She wanted to hear the brunette moan unabashedly as Wanda forced orgasm after orgasm out of her until the last drops of pleasure were wrangled from her enchanted strap. 

Then, she wanted to tear the toy off of those perfect hips, and absolutely devour the juices that would leak messily from Agatha’s needy pussy. She wanted to…

“Fuck.”

Agatha’s raspy voice tore Wanda from her thoughts. Looking up, she smiled slightly at the sight in front of her. Pupils dilated so severely that only a sliver of dark blue was left, sharp teeth biting desperately into a plump lip, strong thighs clenching together. She looked absolutely perfect. 

“On the bed,” Wanda commanded, keeping her voice soft. 

She’d learned that less is more when being dominant. Some people might like the yelling and sharp words and angry tone, but most submissives yearned for the quiet, strong dominance Wanda offered. 

Almost robotically, Agatha obeyed. The slight tilt of Wanda’s head only encouraged her to move faster, and she discarded her sweater before sitting against the headrest. 

“Did you wear this just for me?” Wanda asked, slowly pulling Agatha’s slacks off. She took the brunette’s slight head nod as an answer, humming briefly in response as her eyes locked on the dark purple strap. 

Agatha wasn’t wearing a harness, but the toy was snug against her, and Wanda practically salivated at the thought of the other end that must’ve been buried inside the woman’s pussy. Her fingers reached out, one hand caressing and pinching Agatha’s nipples, which were rock hard through her bra. The other hand reached down, until Wanda’s fingers were in her underwear, collecting some of the juices that had escaped. 

Blue eyes watched hungrily as Wanda pulled her fingers free, wet strands of arousal threatening to drip from them. They were glistening, and Agatha’s breath caught when that same hand wrapped loosely around the tip of her strap. 

It took everything she had not to thrust her hips feebly into Wanda’s relaxed grip. The scent of Wanda’s juices made Agatha’s head swim, driving her mad. The frictionless movement of those long fingers against her strap, smearing Wanda’s arousal over the silicone made Agatha desperate for more. 

Agatha never begged, but she was about two seconds away from whining. And she couldn’t lose her composure that soon. 

“I want to use your throat until I cum, and then I want to keep fucking you until I’m satisfied,” Agatha practically growled, growing tired of Wanda’s teasing. She took one look at the slow smile spreading across the redhead’s lips before she moved. 

Her hands were tangled with Wanda’s silky strands before she could even think, pulling the woman closer to her strap. Those sparkling green eyes locked with hers, and Agatha felt her arousal grow impossibly stronger. Then, those soft, perfect lips were wrapped around her and moving down and taking her deeper and…

A sultry moan erupted from Agatha, the satisfied sound encouraging Wanda to take her fully. With the strap nestled deep in her throat, Wanda held her head against the woman, breathing in her arousal, before coming up for air. 

Moving her head down again, Wanda sucked the strap sloppily, her tongue wrapping around the tip and swirling teasingly before she bobbed her head down again. The weight of the strap against her tongue sent arousal coursing through her, jolts of electricity making their way straight to her clit with each small rut of Agatha’s hips and every little moan and gasp that escaped from her lips. 

Breathing deeply, Wanda let herself enjoy the slight pain of Agatha’s hand gripping her hair. Every time she moved her head up, the woman would tighten her grip, not wanting to lose a single moment of pleasure. Taking a quick break, Wanda locked eyes with Agatha’s half-lidded ones, resting her chin on the woman’s hip and letting the strap slap lightly against her cheek. 

Agatha let out a low groan at the sight. She was so horny she could barely even think. She needed stimulation, and she needed it now. She could feel her breaths coming out in short bursts, and briefly thought that she should care about how desperate she probably looked, but pushed it aside in favor of flipping Wanda onto her back. 

Wide green eyes peered up at her, Wanda’s surprise at the change in position evident. Her hands wrapped around Agatha’s legs, her hands squeezing her ass as the woman rutted the tip of her strap against Wanda’s lips. 

“Take it,” Agatha muttered, her hand pressing on the back of Wanda’s head as she eased the strap into the redhead’s mouth. “Take it all like a good little slut.”

Wanda moaned around the strap, enthusiastically bobbing her head as Agatha fucked her mouth. She felt her own arousal increasing as the strap moved between her lips quickly. She didn’t care about the spit dripping down her chin and smearing over the strap, all she wanted was to make Agatha cum. 

Fuck, she wanted to be used for Agatha’s pleasure. 

As soon as the thought passed through Wanda’s mind, Agatha felt her orgasm overtake her quickly. She came with practically no warning, the only indicator of her orgasm was the painful tightening of her hand in Wanda’s hair. 

Agatha continued to fuck Wanda’s throat, giving the woman no reprieve as she prolonged the pleasure. She felt another orgasm building, increasing exponentially when she looked down and saw Wanda’s hungry eyes roaming her form. 

The hands on Agatha’s ass squeezed again before a resounding slap sounded throughout the room. Wanda internally smirked at the gasp Agatha let out, moaning when the woman retaliated by shoving the strap as far down her throat as she could manage, holding her there for a few seconds. 

“Don’t be a fucking brat,” Agatha hissed, eyes boring into Wanda’s as her orgasm crept up. She dragged the strap almost fully from the woman’s mouth, allowing her a few seconds to breathe before she slammed it to the back of her throat with no mercy. 

Fucking Wanda’s mouth like it was the last thing she’d ever do, Agatha arched her back, eyes raising to the ceiling. The sound of her strap as Wanda’s tongue slurped around it sent her over the edge once more, her thighs trembling as she rode out her orgasm. 

Reaching out her other hand, Agatha felt her strap pulsate as it was buried in Wanda’s mouth, her breath ragged and muscles seizing. She gripped the headboard, knuckles whitening as she slowly fucked in and out of the wet heat wrapped around her strap. 

Nails dug into Agatha’s ass, and she groaned as the pain caused her arousal to feebly jump. She pushed it down, nerves overstimulated as she moved to pull her strap from Wanda’s mouth. 

Wanda’s eyes flashed scarlet, and before Agatha could properly think, she was flipped over and pushed flush against the mattress. Scarlet wisps held her wrists tightly above her head, another thick tendril of magic pinning her hips down as Wanda eagerly took her whole length in her mouth. 

There was something intoxicating about the way Agatha moaned, the sound high-pitched and bordering on a whimper. Wanda let her hands rest on the woman’s thighs, fingers curling tightly as her short nails dug into the soft skin. 

Taking a moment to breathe, Wanda swirled her tongue around the tip of the strap before dragging her tongue down the length of it, enjoying the raspy groans erupting from those pretty lips. 

Agatha’s hips jolted violently, causing Wanda to choke slightly as she wrapped her lips around the strap. With a firm glance, she commanded Agatha to remain still, before using both her hand and mouth to bring the women to yet another orgasm. 

“Oh… fuck. Wanda stop, I can’t… it’s too much. Wait. Please, I’m gonna, fuck, please. I’m coming… I’m fucking coming. Don’t you dare stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

Endless words streamed from Agatha’s lips, her brain having finally dipped into a comfortable vanilla haze. She knew that Wanda held more magical power than she did, and even the hundreds of years of experience she held had nothing over the raw power the redhead controlled. Given this fact, she knew escape was fruitless. 

All she could do was lay there and take it. 

“That’s right. I’m glad you finally understand your place,” Wanda practically purred, and Agatha was too overstimulated to berate her for reading her mind. She felt her muscles twitch, her pussy leaking around the strap, threatening to let the toy slip out from inside her. 

“Ah ah,” Wanda’s voice was low, her hand firm on the base of the toy, holding it steady. “None of that now. You’re going to take everything I give you, understand?” 

“I-,” Agatha couldn’t do much else but nod, green eyes watching her as she felt her cheeks flush. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

Agatha drew a shaky breath, Wanda’s hand slowly pumping up and down her strap. It was sending her into a delirious haze of pleasure, and she just barely managed to squeak out a ‘Yes, ma’am,’ before Wanda was moving. 

With a flick of her fingers, Wanda’s scarlet magic whisked away their clothes, leaving Agatha’s chest exposed to her nimble fingers. The dripping heat of Wanda’s pussy hovered over her strap, anticipation and want filling Agatha as she watched the redhead straddle her hips. 

“Beg.”

It wasn’t a question. Wanda’s eyebrow rose expectantly, her head tilting slightly as her fingers roughly pinched Agatha’s nipples. 

“Fuck, please.” 

“Please, what? Be more specific, dear.”

Groaning, Agatha threw her head back against the pillows. She sucked in a few deep breaths as Wanda’s fingers pulled and twisted her sensitive nipples before she let her remaining dignity go. 

“I need to feel your pussy around my strap, please. You can use me however you want, make yourself cum all over my cock. Please, Wanda. Just fuck me.”

The words had barely left Agatha’s lips before Wanda was sinking fully down on her strap, their moans sounding out at the same time. The fingers abusing her nipples briefly stopped, Wanda grabbing her breasts and squeezing as she steadied herself. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Wanda’s words were slightly breathless, her eyes shining as she began to fuck herself on Agatha’s strap. 

Grinding down, Wanda felt her own orgasm slowly building. The strap slid easily in and out of her pussy, her juices leaking down around the toy and smearing on her inner thighs as she worked herself up. 

Agatha had begun to let out a series of moans, the sounds reverberating around the room and sounding suspiciously like whimpers. Her fingers wrapped around the scarlet tendril restraining her wrists, the power from it sending her head reeling. 

Wanda continued speaking, her accent wrapping around each syllable and pushing Agatha’s orgasm closer to the surface.

“You’re going to make me cum, fuck. You look so good, all tied up beneath me. God, I could do whatever I wanted right now, and you’d just have to lay there and fucking take it.”

With a sudden thrust of her hips, Agatha threw Wanda off balance, the redhead’s upper body colliding on top of hers with a soft thump. The sensation of her breasts against her own sent firefly bolts shooting through her, and Agatha valiantly fought her impending orgasm. 

“Go on,” Wanda challenged, “Get me off like the good little whore you are.”

With a guttural moan, Agatha canted her hips up roughly, Wanda’s soft moans against her ear sending her over the edge. She felt the redhead’s pussy walls clamping down on her strap as they orgasmed together. The sensation of Wanda squeezing around her sent her headfirst into another, smaller orgasm. 

Eventually, Wanda slowed down, lazily grinding against the strap still buried deep inside her. She milked the last remnants of her orgasm, feeling Agatha’s chest heaving against her own. Her fingers slowly massaged the brunette’s chest, nipple taut and hard under her ministrations. 

Agatha whimpered, a whispered ‘yellow’ falling from her lips. 

Pulling back, Wanda moved her hands up to cradle the woman’s face, thumbs gently stroking over her flushed cheeks.

“Too much?” She asked, and hummed softly at Agatha’s weak nod in response. 

“Alright,” Wanda’s voice had a note of finality in it. “I’m going to ride your face then, you still owe me another orgasm.”

Well, Agatha certainly wasn’t going to complain about that.

—

Both Agatha and Wanda were slightly slumped over their morning coffee, exhausted. Wanda was slowly eating a piece of avocado toast, her eyes half closed as Agatha fed Señor Scratchy bits of carrots and cucumbers. 

Wanda’s open laptop sat near them, the screen shining innocently as Agatha pulled her rune book closer to her. She’d instructed Wanda to research a few sites, but judging from the sluggish movements of the redhead across from her, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. 

Besides, Wanda was far too anxious about the job she’d applied for the day before to get any real work done. 

An email pinged through, and Wanda’s green eyes eagerly scanned it, her form no longer bent over the table sleepily. 

There! An interview time and location, the words swimming before her eyes before Agatha’s touch grounded her. 

“Good job, hon.” Agatha’s voice was proud, her blue eyes warm. Wanda practically beamed at her, jumping up from her seat and rounding the table before wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist. She could hardly believe it, and her chest twisted as she thought about starting a new chapter in her life. 

Wanda didn’t really want to leave Agatha but knew that she had to get back into the world. Training had been a nice break, and so had learning to trust her dominant slash mentor slash… friend?

Almost as if reading Wanda’s mind (oh, wait), Agatha chuckled, turning her around to face the mirror. She played with Wanda’s red strands briefly, before sizing her up and murmuring in her ear, words dripping like honey as blue eyes blazed warmly.

“Time to go shopping for a professional outfit, and maybe a whole new wardrobe.”

—

Wanda walked through a set of glass doors, trying not to stare too hard at her surroundings. She resisted the urge to tug on her new blazer, the beginnings of her new wardrobe still feeling slightly foreign to her. Luckily, Agatha had good taste. 

Her new apartment was a mess, her limited bags strewn all over the place. Even with all the chaos surrounding the rounds of interviews she’d gone through, before finally getting the position under the CEO, Wanda only felt a vague sense of pride. 

Her anxieties had faded the second she’d received the phone call confirming her new position from Elenor herself, lessening even further at the amount of money she’d receive while training to take over the company. Agatha had been proud, a smug smirk on her face as she’d helped Wanda move in, purple and scarlet wisps dancing around each other to efficiently unpack. 

And now here she was, her first day. 

Wanda resisted the urge to smile, instead nodding once at the receptionist before smoothly brushing past her toward the elevator. 

Upon reaching the top floor, Wanda felt a thrill go up her spine at the sound of her heels clacking slightly on the floor. Who knew such a simple sound could instill great levels of confidence?

The morning was long, information being thrown at her by her new boss. Luckily, Agatha had taught her how to take effective notes, and CEO training had nothing on experimental rune combinations. 

The afternoon stretched on, filled with meetings and countless handshakes, and Wanda remained steadfast through it all. She was relieved when they finally returned to the top floor, settling gratefully into a chair as her new boss started talking, pulling something up on her computer.

“Of course, you'll have to choose a stage name of sorts. It sells the mysterious illusion that surrounds your position.” The woman said, brown eyes peering at Wanda over the top of her computer. 

A small smirk formed on Wanda’s lips, her mind thrown back to the small cabin in the woods. Visions of purple wisps, lavender perfume, and bright eyes danced through her thoughts, a name popping into her head almost immediately. Blinking away the memory of strong arms wrapped around her waist as a white rabbit watched from the countertop, Wanda looked up, eyes sparkling.

“The Scarlet Witch.”

[soup-mother]

yanks moving to mexico "because they can't afford to (comfortably) live in the US anymore" while still getting paid in US dollars and fucking up the economy really gets to the heart of the Expat vs immigrant thing.

I'm not the most knowledgeable on it (I'm not in north america) but like from where I'm standing the incredibly tight control on the US-Mexico border really does seem to have that double use of making immigration to the US so difficult while letting yanks travel down to mexico for cheap drugs or medication or holidays or even housing while still having all the benefits of being a US Citizen with a US job paying in US dollars.

which i guess is pretty similar to how Australians treat south east asia as cheap tourist or medical destinations ("just go to thailand" for like beauty surgeries and stuff) meanwhile it's very difficult to get into Australia coming from those countries.