#i crave for brett content

[maleposting]

(artist is @/idonotexist_222 on twitter)

[weeabooofficial]

Crave [18+]

Warnings: Blood, dark content, toxic relationship, smut, spit, dumbification, Geto really is his own warning here

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 2K

A/N: Y’all I’ve been holding onto this since like December, waiting for S2 of JJK to start, and here we are. I am not lying when I say I was possessed by something when I wrote this. Big thanks to @offendedfishnoises and in the words of @akazaapologist “Brett really said Suguru fucks nasty”

Leaning over the sink, you washed the blood off your hands watching as the red liquid swirled down the drain. Things didn’t go as you expected, but then again did they ever?

The dim lighting of the cheap, run down motel room didn’t do much in the way of visibility but you were used to it. Holing up here together for a few days, you slowly got used to it. The space was cramped but you were comfortable. 

What you weren’t used to, was the man standing only a few feet away from you with his gaze zeroed in on your back. Trying your hardest, you pushed the thoughts of him to the back of your mind; there were more important things to do, like finding a way to get away with murder.

Looking down, you saw the blood on your shirt and let out a sigh. That was another cute shirt ruined. Once your hands were clean, you reached to lift the bottom of your shirt before you felt a pair of hands take your waist.

Jumping in surprise, you turned to see Geto invading your space. His hair was down already, framing his face perfectly and his shirt halfway unbuttoned. 

“G–Geto, I need to–” 

“No need for the formalities sweetheart,” he grinned. 

“Suguru–” his name barely left your lips before he pulled you closer. Watching his name fall from your lips as they sounded each syllable had him ready to make you scream it for hours on end.

You watched as his massive frame caged you in against the wall, dark eyes tracing every movement you made. Before you could even think, you felt a pair of lips on your neck, pulling soft sounds from you. "You have any fucking idea how much I crave you?" His voice rumbled against your throat, making your knees weak.

Supporting your weight with his thigh between your legs, you couldn’t resist the urge to grind your hips against it as he made quick work of ridding you of your shirt. Tossing it behind him, Suguru grinned against the skin of your throat before pulling you along to the musty old bed, the mattress creaking as he almost threw you on it in desperation. 

Barely able to catch your breath, Suguru was on top pinning you down to the mattress as he claimed your lips with his, a low groan rumbling in his chest that had you shivering in place. 

Holding your hands beside your head, Suguru slotted himself between your legs with his hips rutting against yours at a slow rhythmic pace that had you moving in his hold trying to get more. 

Breaking the kiss, Suguru looked down at you and your flustered expression. Lips swollen and kiss-bitten, eyes glossy and the cutest pout he’s seen. With a wink, Suguru took off your pants before moving lower. 

“This pussy so good,” he hummed as he teasingly slid your panties down your thighs. “Can’t wait to eat every last bit of cum I can,” 

Suguru’s filthy words made you squeak in response. No matter how many times he said something like this, you weren’t used to it feeling your face heat up each time. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by Suguru throwing your thighs over his shoulders as he got right down to business and licked several long stripes through your folds effectively taking your breath away. 

Hands flying to his hair, you couldn’t help but pull him closer. Arching into his touch, you couldn’t fight the pleas begging him to keep going. 

“S–Sugu–!” You felt him moan, the sound rumbling against your aching core as he peaked up at you with a dangerous look in his eyes. If you didn’t know better, you’d say Suguru did this for your pleasure. 

But you did know better; Suguru ate pussy for his pleasure, not yours. There was nothing more he wanted than to have his face buried between your thighs at all times; in bed, in the car, hell even at the table. 

Suguru loved the taste of you on his tongue, especially after he’d spent hours fucking you sensless so your cum was streaked with his. The way your thighs would tense around his head, keeping him in place as you pulled his hair drove him further. 

There was nothing he loved more than having you unravel beneath him, reduced to nothing but a whimpering cum-covered mess. And that was exactly what he was going to do. 

Your moans turned into cries, as he brought you closer to your climax almost begging him to let you cum. The way his hands gripped your thighs were sure to leave prints, as he devoured your sweet cunt. 

Barely able to make out the mumbled words over your moans, you heard him say “Mine, all mine.” over and over as his tongue worked you into a state of pure bliss, cumming all over his face. 

The lewd sounds of him slurping up your juices, with the occasional creak of the bed filled the room before he sat up and brushed his hair back with one hand while the other spread your lips to give him a view of his good work. 

“Look at my baby, all worked up with that look on her face.” he hummed, “You’d think I just spent hours fucking you repeatedly.” 

You watched as he removed his fingers from your pussy, and started to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way with your desire leaving stains on the fabric. Suguru knew how to rile you up, and with the way he was looking at you while he undressed had you squirming. 

“Sugu–” you whined, eyes darting down to the v-shaped muscle of his hips where his pants were unbuttoned and his bulge pressing though. 

“Need you, need you in me–” 

There was a deep rumbling sound you knew to be his laughter, clearly amused at the sight of you eyeing him over begging to be filled with his cock. 

Shoving his pants down to his knees, you could see the outline of his cock through his boxers with a wet patch forming. The sight made your mouth water, you needed his cock and you didn’t care where he shoved it. All you knew was that you needed it in you, and you needed it now. 

Using his thighs to keep yours apart, Suguru leaned over you with his hair falling over his face. Having him this close, you could see streaks of your cum coating his mouth and chin, along with a streak of blood over his forehead. You knew he was a messy eater, but this was a different level of messy. 

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” he hummed, pressing his hips against yours making you gasp softly at the contact. 

Opening your mouth to speak, you didn’t get a word out before Suguru pressed his thumb to your tongue with a malicious grin on his face. “Of course you do, why else would you beg for me to fuck you?” 

Moving closer, he pressed his lips to the crook of your neck keeping your mouth open continuing to move his hips against yours. Suguru thrived off the pitiful moans you made, wriggling under his body as he pressed you deeper into the mattress. 

“Look at the way you’re drooling all over my thumb,” slapping your ass with his free hand before moving it up your body to your throat. Pressing your tongue harder, Suguru watched your eyes go wide as he tightened his grip around your throat cutting off your airflow just enough to make your mind go fuzzy. 

“So pretty like this, and all mine.” Removing his thumb from your mouth, Suguru pressed his lips to yours. 

His kiss was intoxicating, pulling every ounce of breath from your lungs as his hips continued to roll against yours, teasing you with the length of his clothed cock. Suguru was dangerous, you knew he was the second you met him. But it wasn’t the murder or the crimes he committed that made him dangerous; it was the way he had you drunk on nothing but his kiss making you pliable in any way he wanted.

The way he kissed you was messy. Messy, nasty and so fucking addicting with how his teeth clashed against yours, spitting in your mouth as he sucked on your tongue claiming you as his in every way he knew how. 

Suguru Geto was toxic, dangerous and it only made you want him more. 

With your fingers tangled in his hair, Suguru only grinned as he slowly removed his boxers, sighing in relief as his cock sprang free bouncing off your hips. 

“Feel what you do to me, huh sweetheart?” he groaned. “Feel how hard you make me with your sweet cunt and pretty little mouth?” 

Whines were the only thing to leave your lips, feeling the swollen tip of his cock stroke through your folds as he teased you mercilessly with the very thought of having inside you, splitting you in half with the sheer size of it. 

“Sugu–Sugu, please–” you nibbled on his lips, tugging on his hair with your thighs pushed up to give him better access. “–hurts how much I need you–” 

A high pitched squeal was pulled from you as Suguru pulled his hips back just enough to rub the head of his cock against your opening, coating it in your sweet nectar. The smell of sex was in the air, as you gasped for breath feeling him bully his fat cock in you slowly thrusting until he was buried to the hilt.

His moans mixed with yours, his breath fanning over your face as he continued his pace keeping his grip on your throat accompanied with the sound of the bed creaking and thudding into the wall with each thrust of his hips. 

“I wanna hear–fuck–wanna hear you say it.” he grunted. “Say you’re mine,” 

“Yours–all yours–” 

Granting you with another kiss, Suguru grinned as he picked up the pace moaning against your lips feeling your nails dig into his back. “That’s my girl, let me hear how good my cock feels stretching that tight little pussy of yours.” 

Your moans picked up, matching the pace of his hips as you clawed down his back crying his name; begging him to keep going. Nothing in your life had ever felt this good, not even when you were drunk trying to forget the horrors you’ve committed. Suguru knew how to make you forget, almost like he was trying to forget himself. 

Hearing his breaths speed up, you knew he was close and from the way you were clinging to him Suguru knew you were too. 

“Come on baby, cum on my cock and let me fill you; stuff you full with mine.” He panted, “Let me mark you as mine, all fucking mine.” 

Nodding your head, you arched into his chest drawing blood from his back as he brought you closer to your climax. 

“You’re mine,” he growled. “If anyone even thinks about touching you, I’ll rip them apart.” 

Listening to his words made you desperate, you’d be lying if you said Suguru’s possessiveness wasn’t hot, or the way he had to be the only one allowed to touch you made you feel things you never have before. 

“Sugu–fuck!” you felt your body shake from the force of your orgasm, panting heavily as he thrusted his hips a few more times before filling you with his hot seed, moaning against the skin of your throat. 

“So fucking good for me baby,” he hummed. “Pussy so fucking good, lips so good–fuck it’s like you were made to take my cock.” 

Your hands were in his hair now, threading it through your fingers as the two of you laid there letting the atmosphere settle around you. Suguru wasn’t a man to say what he was feeling, but the way he pressed soft kisses to the base of your throat as he held you close told you all you needed to know. 

He cared, in his own fucked up way, Suguru cared and that’s what mattered. 

“How about we shower?” you hummed, looking down at him. 

Glancing up at you with those beautifully haunting eyes of his, you could see the smile behind them. “Sounds like a plan sweetheart,”

Taglist: @offendedfishnoises @akazaapologist @pinksthetics @hex-the-rabbit @nanaoise08squad @loafingdragon @awalkingshame @strawberrystepmom (girl you get a tag because I know you’d love it) @meowzfordayz @shinox 

[sin-sidejob]

Insidious Inside Job: Halloween pt. 1

Note: Inspired by skoshibuns fanart on instagram + I have songs linked with each segment for the specific portion that goes with the monster, the plot, or both

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, AFAB + GN PRONOUNS, monster-fucking, blood, inhuman creatures, the undead, various Halloween-y phenomena + food mention + cockwarming + literal blatant sex with monsters and creatures of the night + probably more

Content: smut, spooky scary spectral holiday smuttening, monster and inhuman creature fucking, usual debauchery you can expect from me, dicks and puss, inhuman and monster genitalia, reader has AFAB nethers/genitalia and a cunt but I don’t describe about tits so folks are safe, I used gender neutral pronouns all throughout as well. Mentions of underwear and generalized clothing but no bras or gendered articles of clothing except just underwear and general clothing.

! ! ! This is part one, with Gigi + JR + Glenn + a bonus character. Part two, which will be posted and located here, includes Reagan + Brett + Andre + Robotus + Myc! ! !

Gigi Thompson: V A M P I R E

• song: Bloodletting (The Vampire Song) - Concrete Blonde

- She’s quite literally the hottest woman you’ve ever met, even though her body is stone cold forevermore — you and her met by chance, her needing to feed and finding you irresistibly alluring and you thinking you’ve struck the lottery and are about to have the best fuck since — well, ever.

- Gigi kept getting confused, torn with the need to sink her teeth into your neck and taste that metallic sweetness, like copper pennies bathed in honey, but pulled back during every opportunity and opening she had in the cover of darkness to do it. She had watched you from afar for a while, far longer than you had even known her or had her on your radar. You were so naively oblivious, just a darling little thing in the line of sight from Gigi’s reddened irises.

- but the one night she forced herself to just get it over with, make a meal out of you, she kept acquiescing, changing her plan from luring you out and killing you outright to lingering a little longer, playing with her food. Then it shifted to going out, toying longer, and sharing food in some dark corner of a restaurant, to following you home and getting invited in.

- and here you are, bright-eyed and eager, so dazedly star-eyed that you’ve got no clue what her intentions truly are with you. That she could shred you into ribbons and suck you dry if every precious drop of blood within your thumping, steady veins. But she doesn’t. Oh no, Gigi’s body craves more than just the ambrosial vice seeping through your heart, she wants your touch, to taste the other parts you have to offer. She makes a full meal out of you, long manicured fingernails traipsing across your skin as she sheds you of your clothing, letting it slide off your skin to puddle on the floor in a wrinkly, hazardous mess.

- Gigi leaves little marks of deep burgundy lip prints across your collar, marking you a necklace in her kisses around your oh-so-tempting throat, shedding the last of your clothing sans some drenched underwear she peels off. She urges you into your bed, making an idle comment about the poster bed canopy that shrouds the two of you even more from sight. Gigi pries your thighs apart and settles into her hors d’oeuvre, teeth sunken in and hidden away in order to lap at your pulsing clit, sending her nerves alight. She wants to cut you open and leave you raw, eat everything from you until there’s nothing left. She wants to utterly consume you. To know everything about all of your parts, the intricacies of your thoughts, crack you open like a geode that only her undead eyes get to see. Get to feel the crystalline facets within that no one else could have ever uncovered.

- instead of carving you open, she lets you bestow your own offerings, having her touch shatter you anew and burst you open as you cum on her tongue endlessly. she treats your cunt like a blessed goblet, letting her lips and tongue worship the pooling slick that drips forth onto her awaiting mouth to savor all the facets of your taste. It’s so much better than she could have ever fathomed.

- in her latest sprawl of meals they’ve been mediocre, the equivalent of a microwave dinner in the range of quality of bloodletting. But you, the way your slick feels against her tongue and glosses her already dark, puffy lips, enveloping her heightened senses like a murky fog, you’re nothing short of bewitching. and she doesn’t plan to let you go.

- She eats you out with fervor, the pads of her fingers prying your legs apart and being careful with the digits, knowing the glossy nails are pointed and sharp, making sure her thumb against your clit rolls in circles and shapes in a pressure that drives stars behind your eyes. Humming against your weeping slit, she comes up for the air she doesn't need, lungs as still as fake flowers laid upon a grave. "Don't you taste divine," Gigi purrs in the dark of your room, eyes alight in a manner that had your pried open legs wanting to shut an rub together as you squirmed, more than just hot and bothered. No, you were practically steaming and Gigi felt it, her cold skin soaking up your warmth like the last look at a lover.

- She wishes she could just bite her nails down shorter to play with you even more, slide her hand into the warmth of your cunt and play around, finding your most tender spots and drinking whatever you have to offer her. She could live a hundred undead lifetimes in just what you have offered already in this night alone. Gigi doesn't know how or why, but she gives you her attention and care and hopes that all the words she hasn't said come forth in her lips against your heated, still full-of-life skin.

- She cages you in and has you beneath, bare and only wearing the remnants of a button-down top she tore off of you in order to bite and mark up your chest. "Can I fuck you?" emerges from you, and it's not rushed or hurried as it flies from your puffy, swollen, and kiss-abused lips. It's calculated, and your eyes are lidded low and glimmer in the light and Gigi wants to remember the sight until her final days. It has traces of what home used to feel like to her and stutters a feeling in her heart that lay dormant for decades, centuries even. God, you're so darling, so she will continue to call you as such.

_ "You dont have to ask me twice," Gigi utters with a grin so sweet, you taste the sugar in your mouth just from the sight of it, "Be a doll and help me out of this dress?" Your hands hurry to remove her clothing, practically falling asunder when you go to remove her tights and find stockings in their stead, thick bands for her garter belt, and the thin straps holding them together. She could kill you between her legs and crush your skull like a rotten melon and you'd still be beaming from ear to ear.

- Once she's stripped, clad in a lingerie set that clings to her like it was painted on, thin slivers of silk and velvet cup her breasts and have transparent panels that shimmer, making her body lie behind what looks like erotic slivers of stained glass windows. The panties match, thin bows on the sides tying them together. The garter belt emphasizes the sway of her waist and the curve of her hips and is taut lower at the ties to the stockings that make your mouth both dry and flood with too many yet not enough words. Yeah, you would willingly die at the mercy of her hands without concern.

- You get her settled among the pillows beneath the canopy of your bed, feeling as if she was meant to be there, always with her languid form curled and splayed across your sheets and rubbing her thighs together and reaching a manicured hand out to pull you closer, into a holy hell you'd enjoy ever step into the descent of.

- Paused for a moment, you shake back to reality with a sway of your head and reluctantly move away, looking back as you step away at her and cheekily utter "just stay right there, I'll be just a moment," and smile at her gentle laugh. You sort through a drawer, pulling forth a special little toy you never thought you'd get to use, a little double-ended number you'd love to christen with her cunt. Turning back, you nearly drop the toy and the bottle of lube at the sight of her, hair across her shoulders and bra straps lowering dangerously down her shoulders as she shallowly bucks into her hand that's in her panties, moving lazily. Her eyes open and peer up at you, and she grins something wicked when she reaches her free hand across her thigh and pats her flesh, beckoning you forth.

- You practically hurdled into bed.

- Eager hands pry her thighs apart while you busy yourself in darting kisses across her collar, teeth moving to bite at her bra straps and drag them both down before leaning back, settling between her spread thighs to reach back and flick the clasp off of her bra. Gigi shucks off the garment, tossing it aside in the room and enjoying the way you fall slack and in awe of her partially nude, finding her chest nothing short of exemplary.

- "are you even real?" you marvel aloud, feeling as if you're in the presence of a statue come to life as if some renaissance statue woke and wandered into your life, your heart, and your bed. Lucky you.

- "I could say the same for you. Such a sweet thing you are." Gigi murmurs in response, eyes doting in equal to her caress of your side, feeling the warmth of your ribcage and beating heart beneath, seeing the chills sprawl across your body at her ice touch. Her legs spread and she pulls the ties of her panties, silky bows undone as she removes and tosses her underwear, bare beside her garter and stockings. You wish she could kill you, it would be kinder than this.

- She smirks, leaning back and nestling against the pillows, hair sprawled around her head and shoulders as she grins up at you, "Oh but I think living suits you much more." Gigi shucks off your tattered blouse and you toss it out of the way, lowering down upon her and kissing her body, marveling at her breasts and the peak of her perked nipples with your tongue, practically at home and near creaming when she snakes a hand across your hair.

- You make your way down to her cunt and find her clit, sucking and licking with greedy eagerness, hands sliding beneath her thighs to lift them over your shoulders. She takes it from there, locking them at the ankles while she takes your hands in hers, sliding them up her body until she plants them over her tits, and you oblige, palms cupping handfuls and rolling thumbs across her nipples in flicks while you busy yourself with lowering to her lips and licking through them.

- "oh fuck, a little harder," she asks, pleading in a pitch that lifts, voice airier and lighter now that you've got her at your generous, plentiful mercy. You'd give her the world, everything you could reach and beyond. "You need not ask again." you tease, echoing her words from earlier when you nose her clit briefly through a patch of curls and return back to breach your tongue in her cunt, moaning at the taste and squeezing her chest while you did so, smiling against her cunt as you feel her shudder and draw you in.

- "you taste fucking immaculate," you murmur while breaching for air,, looking up at her from between her thighs, taking a moment to tease. One hand stays on her breast while the other lowers to help you part her lips and then slides into her cunt, two fingers entering without issue and scisssoring in her cunt, spreading and then curling upwards. Gigi jolts and arches, lip tugged between teeth you envy. You almost halt when you spot fangs, pronounced and pointed against her lower lip. A normal reaction would be fear, disgust, maybe even some anxiety or paranoia. Not you - you just fuck her faster, better, and want those teeth buried in your neck.

- "holdin' out on me, huh?" you breath against her clit, grazing teeth against it and soothing with your tongue, suckling between sentences to see her shake and tremble, "should've known you were something unearthly, too pretty to be normal." You fuck your fingers into her, sighing in gratification at the sound her soaked cunt makes when you play with it, pinching her nipple and sending her crying out as you feel her hips lift off the bed occasionally,. grinding into your face and you are savoring every single second.

- You've peaked the moment she became interested in you, but you've surpassed everything and everyone when you managed to get her attracted to you and now, rendered into a bundle of high-strung and coiled nerves, ready to snap.

- She comes with a cry of your name on her lips, mouth gaped and enticing with those sharp canines you wanna' toy with. But that's for later. Now, you clean her up and bide your time with the touch of tongue and fingertips, soothing her and ushering her down from the high of orgasm, murmuring her name like a holy prayer and beaming from between her legs, calling out once her red eyes lock upon your grinning form betwixt her stocking-clad thighs.

- "wheres that toy you had? I'll fuck us with it then suck your veins dry and keep you around, you're never leaving if you can fuck me like that and look at me with all that love in your eyes." Gigi promises, like a god laying across an offering bed, handing you the world in a gesture so soft that it wins over the pillows.

- Lucky you indeed.

JR Scheimpough: G H O S T

• song: Ghost Of A Texas Ladies Man - Concrete Blonde

- you weren’t going to let a gossipy rumor of ghosts hold you back from owning a fucking perfect Victorian mansion — listed reasonably and in your price range — in the country, just thirty minutes or so commute from your work.

- it had a goddamn greenhouse, fuck them ghosts.

- you adjusted well, reapplied polish after re-gritting the checkerboard tiles in the main walkway, weeding the garden and scattering oyster shell fragments and slate for the landscape, running gas and electrical through the house to turn on the sconces with those scalloped, filigree light fixtures now aglow. You made that house your home and even that kitchen was amazing. You loved every minute of it.

- until the house began to turn on you. Lights flickering at odd hours, almost seeming to be talking, flickering in response to words or actions. The trees whistling during overcast days in a manner that seemed too ominous for outdoors. Movements in the corner of your eye. Fuck all that.

- you were this close until the breaking point, the crux within the ordeal, to calling in someone to cleanse the house or bless it.

- the master bathroom was nothing short of lavish, marble tiles in ornate patterns littering the floor with cornflower blue ceilings and ornate wallpaper, littered with filigree and ornamental flowers and imagery, pastel greens and blues only further enamoring you with the room. It had a walk in shower, updated with an overhead shower head with a rainfall spout and jets, a bench, and one of those glass window panes. The double sink with the decorative brass faucets, resting below a giant mirror. And the pièce de résistance was the tub.

- a gorgeous oversized claw foot bathtub lay apart, seated in the center of a tri-paned window overlooking the backyard landscape and garden, drenched in sunlight. It was only furthered by the crystals you hung in the windows, fragments of prismal glow dotted around the room, twinkling like a rainbow broke and scattered it’s pieces in your home.

- you’d been taking a break from working on the house this weekend, wanting to just relish in it and let your aching bones recuperate. Bath soak makes the water almost thick, a thin gloss of it sticking to your limbs that peak out from the water. Bubbles are spread throughout the water surface, glimmering with minuscule reflections of the noon-day light from the windows that send them towards your shiny skin.

- your neck is perched on the raised lip of the tub, arched perfectly for your posture and just so that it allows you to rest your eyes. Until the crystals on the window begin to sway and spin, and the large vanity mirror above the sink fogs over with a chill that you don’t feel near you just yet. It fogs over partially, a murky space where one would sit on the sink counter makes you realize those rumors were real.

- stark naked, tub-bound is an unfortunate state to realize you did have spectral housemates.

- “if you’re going to stare, at least let me see what you look like. Even the playing field here fucko.” You’ve got no clue where you found your voice, nor why it spoke of its own accord, but you know you should not have said that but it’s too late now.

- in a shimmer, the form appears, perched in a manner that drips with cheeky and smarmy bravado, displaying an older man who seems all too glad to see a human in the flesh - yet you kinda like his spirit.

- he’s donned in glasses, framing colorless eyes drenched in a void sans the ice-blue irises gazing at you. He’s got on a pinstripe suit, a few decades too old to mean he’s died recently, looking like a Halloween advert for a Mad Men episode.

- “well, isn’t that a warm welcome.” His voice chitters, almost otherworldly with how it seems to phase in and out of your ears, hovering like even sound is trying to decide whether to believe in him. “Hello babydoll, pleasure to finally speak with you. I’d shake your hand but, Y’know.” He feigns nonchalance, gesturing vaguely and you’re not sure if he’s alluding to the fact you’re buckass nude or that he’s unable to touch things – only phasing through them in that spectral nature.

- “didn’t stop’ya from waltzing into my bathroom and watching me.” You pause for a moment, eyeing him warily and sinking lower in the tub before the curiosity creeps inwards, twisting and invading like ivy crawling up brick, “what’s your name?”

- the ghoul’s head tilts, smiling in an amused way that’s both endearing and mocking, eyes shining like ice cubes twinkling in a water glass, “JR –“ he cuts you off as your mouth opens, “No not junior, just J-R.” He trails, eyes locking on you briefly from where they would pretend to find the wallpaper interesting, “yours?”

- and so you utter your name aloud, watching him almost relish in it as if your name was a secret that he’d been searching for. He repeats it, pronouncing it correctly and seems almost casual before he grins, “pretty name for such a cute little thing such as yourself.”

- you’d strangle him is he wasn’t already dead.

- he laughs, and you realize with horror you said that aloud. “Didn’t think you were that kinky, aren’t you full of suprises!” You toss a soap bar in his direction, not expecting the thud nor the sound of it hitting the floor after it landed off his - apparently solid - chest.

- You catch a glimmer in the dead eyes of JR, they flash red — for a millisecond only, just enough to show he’s not just the pretty charmer sitting on your sink. And unfortunately for you, that unnerving danger is just your thing. He notices.

- dark eyes glint and that Cheshire grin returns, JR busying himself with rolling up his sleeves as he notes the dilation in your pupils and the way your legs rub together, water rippling and sending barely-there glimpses of what lies beneath the soapy water of your body.

- “Oh, a mighty kinky thing you are. All hot and bothered for a ghost — pity. But why leave you all to your lonesome here?” He drawls, winking as he steps off the counter and his shoes click at the tile floor, black loafers so shiny they look freshly polished in the midday light. “Why not, keep your lively, darling self company? Hmm?” JR hums a note, nearing the tub and sitting on his haunches, forearms resting on the lip of the tub and teasingly pretending to peek downwards but keeping his attention on you.

- “that —“ you pause, caught up in ice cube eyes that you cannot seem to pry away from, struggling to find the weight of your tongue and get it to work, “that may work.” And he smiles, always smiling, this specter, “what a wonderful answer. Now — how about we get you out of that tub.”

- Y’know what, you would go along with your previous advice. Fuck them ghosts.

- Sitting up, slow enough to let the water adjust and not slosh over the side of the tub and ruin the fluffy bathmat nearby, you maintain eye contact while the suds drip down your chest and expose your torso. You lean up to hover near him, not feeling any chill but just a presence, a wave, that emanates. The closer you are, the stronger it feels, and when you run a sudsy hand over his temple, brushing a stray hair back, you feel him. he’s real. and he’s determined to show you just how much.

- JR’s about to move, most likely kiss you, but you lean back. Completely pull away. And he looks dejected and it’s a dreadful sight on an already dead man. You stand, stepping out the tub and move to grab your towel. It’s gone.

- “missing something?”

- you turn, an eyebrow raised in what is currently the longest moment of you having a complete absence of self consciousness or shame, and fix him with a look and glance around for your bathrobe and towel that you knew you had in there.

- “this is a bit ridiculous,” you roll your eyes at his expectant look, muttering to yourself that this is the most ob-fucking-scene moment of your life, “towel please.”

- “nope. quite like how it’s going without one personally.” JR muses, pursing his lips to avoid smiling while standing and rocking back and forth on his heels.

- “oh sweet fucking christ—“ “I thought I told you my name” you’re this close to abandoning the plan of fucking the ghost but you turn and see he’s got your robe, which was on the other side of the room, in his hands outstretched and ready for you to step into.

- you do, bare feet against tile now sending a shudder than sprawls through you, settling goosebumps across your skin and for you to visibly squirm, only to get enveloped in your plush bathrobe and have him usher you into the sleeves. It’s quite domestic as he loosely ties the robe, large bow barely closing the fabric, still revealing the entirety of your legs and barely covering your pelvis.

- His head hovers around your shoulder, him standing behind you still with hands perched at the tie-belt of your robe, “still want company?” and with his voice, the eerily charming timbre of it, how could you deny yourself the opportunity?

- you murmur your answer before you yourself even process it, nodding and saying a soft absolutely just before you turn around, stepping backwards and grabbing onto cold hands and leading him into your bedroom. You thumb the knuckles and realize they’re very soft and that the chill isn’t so terrible, not overly cold. Warming him up wouldn’t take much if anything at all.

- “darling place you’ve got here,” he jokes, brows raising as he watches you walk then seat yourself on the edge of your bed, “just love what you’ve done with it.” JR continues to stand, fiddling with his tie and buttons before he halts his movements, hiding the hesitation by feigning the intention to move them to his pants pockets. you’re about to ask why, but then you see the glimmer of indentions near his Adam’s apple, pearlescent skin dusky mauve and periwinkle, understanding sinking into your features that he cannot miss. He chuckles, the dark and bitter kind and that red glint almost appears but instead that ice blue turns white then back to the clearish hue.

- “Guess I stuck my neck out for the wrong guy.” And you swallow, knowing that’s certainly a story for another time but you move on seeing that he wants to as well, rising to smooth your palms across his shirt vest and to begin undoing his tie. In a normal circumstance, it’s quite sweet, the image of you wrapped up in a bathrobe and undressing him from the remnants of a suit as if getting ready for bed. But this is no normal circumstance, and you two are far from a normal pair.

- And as you feel at the skin of his neck, bared of his starched shirt collar and tie, you look beyond and thumb at his jaw and lean to kiss at the juncture near his ear. “Well, I’m here now,” you trail off, feeling barely-there hands hover at your waist, “if that helps?” He barely moves and already has you splayed on the bed, peering up at him and seeing him slowly shift from being semi-transparent to completely opaque. Solid. Still ghostly but physically there and it’s a relief, not wanting to voice your concerns of spectral sex and how that really would work.

- “It does.” JR grins, chilled hands shucking off the bathrobe and leaving it beneath your frame until your bare hips lift up and he tugs it out from under, tosses it, then pauses. He leans back, hands flexing and his teeth biting into his bottom lip as he gazes up and down at all of you, admiring blatantly. “Oh honey, it really does.”

- you’re already soaked, which is a relief to you because you didn’t want to navigate foreplay or delve overly so into exploring each other’s bodies. You wanted him, wanted to know how he felt, how he’d feel filling you. JR delivers.

- cold, dead, dextrous hands lift your thighs up and rest the underside notch of your knees on his forearms. His appears shifts, like a ripple rolling over a still waters surface, appearing and disappearing all at once. His shirts unbuttoned and partially tucked into the back of his slacks, belt gone and pants undone. JR almost looks like he’s wearing a thick choker or a necklace and you pointedly avoid looking at it, knowing it’s not the place or time to call attention to a death mark.

- instead you grab onto clothing that feels like it’ll flutter away in your hold, unreal, not there, and tug him closer so he’s looming overhead — and if it wasn’t for the spectral visage, he’d look completely normal. As completely normal as a businessman from the 60’s could look. “Eager little thing, all neglected and alone in this big ol’ house.” JR croons, cheeky and feather light, feeling like a stuffed down pillow yet like a switchblade all the same, “not anymore, you’ve got me, dont’cha honey?”

- that’s the moment he removes his cock, blue tinged and with a weepy, bulbous tip, and slides it through your folds with emphasis. Snake oil salesman. Con man. You never want him to leave. You let out a thick “ungh-huh,” grunting response, squirming at the feel and wanting him in already, petty and petulant and wound up like a turn-dial toy, ceased in your puttering about.

- “Aw kitten, I’ve got you,” he murmurs once more, unnervingly genuine smile on his face. It’s crooked, imperfect. Good. “Easy for me, breathe — I’d demonstrate, but that’s just one thing I can’t do.” And just as your lips part to comment, he slides in, fat cockhead breaching your walls and nestling deep inside. It’s cold, foreign feeling, practically glasslike within you but it sends you clenching and grinding weakly back onto it, feeling your bare hips brush against wool-blend slacks and the weight of his gaze on you.

- “what a perfect, snug little fit this cunt has,” he muses, almost more intrigued than turned on. But he falters as the shift of your hips, eyes flickering like they’re phasing in and out, there one second the next they’re gone. “Fuck, do that again,” he orders after an angled grind while you clench your walls around him, sending his ragged and eyes aglow.

- you do, you clench and he bends you like a pretzel in response. Thighs to your chest, dick now kissing at your cervix which’ll end up bruised by the end of the day, and him even closer now. He’s not as cold, almost as if he’s warmed up. Did you do that?—

- “oohh yes, yes — you feel fantastic, so good to me,” JR babbles, hands splaying across your belly flat while the other is near your head, “so, so good to me.” He whines a bit in his thrusts, overwhelmed with pleasure as you feel the same. The foreign sensation fades as your hot cunt warms him, welcomes him, and stretches to accommodate. His pelvis and slacks brush against your clit, sending nerves alight and twinkling behind your eyes like the fractals from the prisms in the bathroom, rainbow shards scatter behind your eyes as JR steadily fucks into you. it takes you turning your head in an attempt to bury it in the sheets and comforter for you to realize you’re not actually on your bed. Oh, no. In fact, you’re several feet in the air above it.

- That’s hot.

- weeding a hand through his hair, you tug and bring him closer to your frame to press against you, thighs sandwiched between your body and his as his face looms above, eyes now half lidded and sapphire blue. his kiss is so cold it’s warm, tingly up to your toes, almost like spearmint threaded through your bones and body like a puppeteer’s strings. it doesn’t take many more thrusts, many more shifts of his incorporeal form to send you shuddering and gasping, clawing at him and crying out silently in an open mouthed cry as you cum.

- JR follows, unable to not fall under the same petite mort as you do, finding it much sweeter than the actual thing with the view he finds himself surrounded by. Pretty little breather, so eager to take him. He supposes having a housemate won’t be so bad.

Glenn Dolphman: SWAMP CREATURE

• song: It Will Come Back - Hozier

- you shouldn’t have gone this far out onto the boardwalks alone. Should’ve packed extra AA batteries for your flashlight, grabbed the stun gun from the glovebox of your car, sitting stagnant and useless in the National Park’s car lot.

- but now, now you’re alone and the suns starting the creep and inch downwards in the horizon, setting brackish and green water inky blue and drenched in oranges and yellows. It would be gorgeous and ethereal is you weren’t alone, and surrounded by open water and more threats than friends. You’d been there all day testing water and recording data for water pollution, making sure the water clarity was still as high as it was last month. The internship in the park’s department was new, testing your limnology skills and knowledge of freshwater ecosystems. But this place blended just likes it’s water, fresh and salt, murky and clear. And with the sun setting, that line got crossed. You’re in no man’s land, where the gators swim free.

- you won’t see morning.

- shutting off the flashlight allows you to conserve what you can for the night, same with your phone as you pace and try to figure out how far from the entrance you are and how much daylight you have left, gauging about 45 minutes to maybe 2 hours of light. Then, darkness. You feel like crying.

- there’s a tree, thick and stable with roots deep within the mud settled next to the wooden walk you’re on, and you settle against it, back rested on the wood and your legs sprawled on the walks planks, fiddling through your bag and wishing you’d brought more than your your water testing kit and supplies. Like a fucking knife, flare gun, something actually useful. What’s the goddamned chapstick gonna help with, making you look good for the gators?

- moving water unnerves you, the sound heavy and laden with weight, something slow moving underneath you and the thin, wooden slats. It has you getting on your feet in milliseconds and rushing in the opposite direction, knowing it’s at least closer to the beginning of the park. You run until you can’t and it’s already too late, suns gone down and abandoned you in the horizon, the light begins to fade with it. There’s the lurking after light, still hazy and silky in the clouds and it’s clouded the air. And you sit back down, curled in on yourself and trembling, eyes darting around yourself for any flicker of movement in the water.

- you hadn’t heard the water move beneath you as you ran earlier, hadn’t counted the shadows in the depths. Fatal mistakes.

- shadows lengthen then dissipate as they blend with the darkness that surrounds you, and you lean back and groan, practically whimpering as you hold in a cry. The water ripples around you, your form a little dot within a giant circle of ripples resting on the thin plank board walkway of the park.

- chest rattles are all that you feel, shaking like a leaf on a tree is all you can do as you worry about what we’re the last things you said to your loved ones, the last texts you sent, fuck you weren’t going to catch the show premiere for next month. Then the water ripples still, completely unnoticed by you. Again.

- you’ve turned away, looking at the horizon when it emerges, watching wistfully as the light fades and the darkness creeps in around you finally. Webbed digits spread against the wood supporting beams from underneath, it’s head precariously perched beneath the surface and slowly edging forwards and upwards until the eyes are the only lifted feature above the Spanish moss and algae-coated water surface. Golden brown eyes stare ahead, almost hazel if not for the unnaturally shaped pupils and too-glittery irises, reflective and almost iridescent as they flicker light in shades of gold leaf, chestnut, moss, and phthalo. You turn back and lock with them immediately in your line of vision, and your body seizes. You want to cry, want to scream and run, fucking beg. What the fuck is that thing. You want your friends and a blanket and to be woken up from this nightmare.

- but you’re frozen, and this is real.

- the form inches forward, so slowly you almost didn’t notice in your panicked state, creeping in the water in a way that couldn’t remind you of anything human. No alligator moves that way, no snapping turtle shifts like that. It’s too far up for a shark to make it in this brackish water, too fresh for that. Hell, catfish don’t get that big. This ain’t River Monsters. This is your reality. Hell.

- and the hell before you gets bigger until the arms splay across the wooden slats, water dripping down to soak the beams and lifting the body up and out, knees from bulky legs notched at one edge. It looms above you, dark eyes staring down into the very depth and well of your soul, practically toying with the dregs of whatever’s down in the bottom. Your eyes are wide, scream silent and stagnant in the bottom of your throat, tears welling in the corner of your saucer plate eyes while you lean down against the surface of the boardwalk and think of your loved ones and shut your eyes tight.

- It grunts then lumbers forth, head peering down at you with eyes unyielding and unrelenting, as harsh as staring directly into sunlight. It does not move after a few moments, just staying put. When your eyes open and warily look upwards, staring at what you expected to be death in the face, your mind goes blank.

- it still is a beast, a creature of proportions unknown to mankind or otherwise, something for the pages of nautical maps in the old ages to have painted alongside sea serpents and sirens. This, this is unfathomable.

- Whatever it is, looming overhead like death's scythe mid-swing sits still. Bulky arms and legs support the weight, and arms on both sides of your torso with legs kneeling outside of your own. The face is narrow, blunt nuzzle protruding with a murky green appearance all over. There are scars and gashes, all paler pinks and greys with the gouges healed and appearing old. Faded and worn, leathery.

- your attention is drawn back to reality once you hear a deep-pitched chitter, sounding more like a rattle, emanate from its chest and throat. It's almost playful, and then you catch the eyes and they've changed. They look human.

- Before you can say anything or voice a concern, the blunt nose of the beast leans down near your neck, and you freeze, wondering what it's doing. Instead of its mouth opening and teeth sinking into your flesh, tearing your throat and life out, it bumps at your pulse. The softened feel of its nose nudges at your neck, once, twice, and huffs a breath of warm air.

- It leans down on what would be the equivalent of shins and forearms, water dripping from its form and soaking your khaki shorts and your work shirt, underwear growing damp with how drenched the articles of clothing become. Your hands are at your sides, cheek pressed to the wooden board beneath you as you feel its breath and puffs of hot air at your neck. There's barely anything you can see around his form, its size so massive it blocks your peripheral.

- you hear it growl out near your ear, limbs brushing yours, and it repeats the noise then you realize with a shock that it’s speaking, the garbled, drowned tone emerging through its throat like reaching through muck and mud.

- “pretty.”

- your freezing and cold, firghtened and expecting death to soon take you, and yet the sound of the backroad gravel and unearthly, rough voice pulled you forth. Almost like a sirens song, luring the sailors directing the course of your consciousness into the sea to sink to the bottom in ribbons of flesh and tissue.

- you think, until you don’t, when a leg notches between yours and this thing, this behemoth above you, grinds against you. There’s a small, still present logical part of yourself but even that braincell jumped ship the second the thick, pulsing muscle of its thigh hit between your clothed, soaked legs.

- growls and animal-like chitters and coos go unheard as your mind blanks over and you’re lifting hands to feel across its arms, his arms from what you could understand, and dart across jagged tissue scars and roughened, thick skin as you lift your hips up and grind you hips into its groin, rewarded with a hot huff against your sticky collarbone and a thickening fleshy weight growing against you.

- “smell r’good.” Comes out slow and jumbled, but sweet for a horny swamp monster that’s about to fuck you stupid. You almost laugh, smoothing a hand up a shoulder in disbelief and wondering just how truly main character you were until you get your clothes quite literally torn off of you into ribbons upon the boardwalk planks and slats, clad barely in underwear and your shoes that stayed on your feet, your ankles hitched over his thighs. Your legs couldn’t even touch his back let alone lock over them.

- “thank you,” you murmur, grinding against him again and keening when his teeth graze, the creature pressing more weight against you once his dick unsheathes. You don’t see it, can’t with the closeness but you feel it. It’s hot, and a spare hand wanders to toy and find with wonder that it dwarfs your hand. Good for you. “Gonna’ take care of me?”

- where did the real you go and what monsterfucker took your place, fucking a swamp monster in a National Park — and no dinner? Damn.

- it huffs an approving groan, nodding a blunt nose against the slope of your neck and at your mercy as your hand plays with his dick, feeling it move and twitch wildly in your lax grip. You carry on, grazing fingertips over a blooming cockhead and weeping slit, running over ridges and veins until he grows tired and tears your underwear in half down the central seam, prying your legs open and grinding his dick through your slick, the sound echoing almost.

- with a lip tugged between your teeth, hands scramble for purchase as enormous arms and sides, digging in your nails a tad once that blunt, flared cockhead drags across your clit then slinks in, breaching your cunt slowly and stretching it. You take inch after inch in an achingly slow pace, whining and twisting in this things hold and wanting to get fucked already, but it knows better. Cant break a new fuck toy on the first go.

- it’s tedious but rewarding in the end once you get nearly three quarters of its dick in you, pulsing hot and twitching against taut walls, feeling full and warm in contrast to your icy skin from the cold, warming up slowly but surely.

- the creature edges forth in a small thrust, testing the shift then picks the pace up rapidly, hips snapping as a hand lifts your ass up from beneath in order to sink in more of his dick and see it disappear into the warmth of your cunt.

- pressure builds, making your toes curl first and your nails dig a bit into the bicep muscles of the arm your holding onto, another flattened across the back of a shoulder blade and rocking softly back in forth to meet thrusts, voice too broken to scream out, whimpering and moaning out for this monster above thats both the softest and most impressive sex partner you’ve had in a while.

- God Bless National Parks.

- after a while the pace steadies and the continuous brush of his giant dick, making a mess of your pretty cunt and sending slick dripping down your thighs, gets you close to cumming, feeling that warmth spread up the back of your legs and in your belly, blossoming forth in your rib cage and chest, curling around your heart like silken ribbon.

- the steady pat patt patting of his balls against your ass also sends you into a hormonal frenzy, loving how warm and treasured you were in the moment. The pressure builds and you start muttering and crying out, legs shaking around his thighs once it builds closer, a litany of “gonna’ cum gonna’ cum, gonna’ cum please lemme’ cum f’you.” That sends the pace to perk up as well as the behemoth, a shift lifting your ass in the palms of his webbed hands and thrusting you back and forth on its cock, using you with as much ease as one would fuck a sex toy.

- a few bruising knocks of that mushroomy, blunt tip against your cervix sends you creaming around his cock, just in time for him to cum and fill your greedy cunt while you’re agape and shut-eyed as the tremors wrack your body, falling victim to the power of orgasm, wracking your brain like a fog that slowly fades into a haze.

-The once rapid thrusts stutter and fade, continuing until you’re both fully spent and dated and you’re weighted down with a heavy beast that’s the warmest weighted blanket you’ve ever tried, feeling content all plugged up and held. Felt great, fan-fucking-tastic.

- the giant hands holding you tight splay over your heated, damp and sweat-slicked skin and shift, you press a kiss to its cheek and dart more down his neck, nosing it so sweetly he draws you even impossibly closer.

- later on, when you’ll go to work and be unafraid in the dark and cheery and bright in the day, it’ll be due to the rippling force hiding in your shadow as you make your rounds and tend to your tasks, biding the time until nightfall.

- and you feel it’s eyes on you always, but instead of a weight clutching at your throat or coiled between your ankles, it rather lies across your shoulders like a well-beloved overcoat. Warm and powerful and strong. Roughened. Uniquely yours in the best of ways. Especially when swamp creatures are concerned.

— Bonus —

Delaney Whitmore: T H E D E V I L

• song: Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode

- Waking up in the same day, over and over, endlessly for what has been a week now is already getting old. You’ve been shot, run over, electrocuted, and even gutted. Dumped into a ravine. Drowned in the lake with weights and chains, got hit by a train, even got your throat slit. You want it to be over and you’ve got no clue what’s going on. There’s only so much one can learn from Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, and it seems that even he ain’t doing you no favors. You're tired, traumatized, reeling day in and out, and facing death with a chagrin belonging to even the most exhausted reluctant heroes. But you are no hero, no, you are a stranger, a normal person, trapped in an endless loop and feel as if the eyes of ouroboros are gazing down in mocking, chiding laughter. You feel doomed.

- You find answers, or more accurately, a cause to your cruelly violent cycle. She’s been present the most out of all the passersby, with different clothes and different styles of hair, always a bystander and stranger, nearby to watch the fallout behind tinted brown sunglass lenses and a burgundy-lipped grin. God, what a bitch.

- You finally see her up close, spotting and cornering her in the back booth of a dark bistro in town, a flute of something dark and bubbly tucked between her hand and her manicured nails. They match her lipstick. “Having fun? How’s the loop treating you, I’ve tried to make at least the dying random,” she coos, stirring around the decorative garnish that rims her cocktail before turning her body to face yours, “wouldn’t want it to be overly repetitive. That just becomes so redundant, but enough about my little spoils. Introduce yourself, go on, I’ve just been dying to meet you.”

- faltering, you eye her outstretched hand warily, noting the several rings on her fingers and the watch, the gloss of her nail polish in the low light of the room. You shake her hand, noting the firm grip and authenticity behind it, and sit down across from her, shifting against the worn faux leather booth seats and hating the sound.

- “sorry about the surroundings, can’t really alter this stuff unless I wanted to immediately call attention and ruin the game. No fun in that.” She noted the visible discomfort on your face, showing interest and care that seems ingenuine with how real it felt, “now go on, introduce yourself. Treat a lady.” She all but purrs, sipping at her drink and smiling with something wicked and dark in her teeth. Her pointed, sharp teeth. Just the canines.

- and so you do, blurting out your name and watching her process it, and you take her in. Deep brown waves settle down and rest in curls upon her shoulders. She’s got big, Jackie O-style glasses on again, paired with the deep red lip. There’s twinkling gold jewelry dotted around her body, across the collar, several across the ears, her rings, and the watch.

- “what a darling name,” is what pulls you forth from the stupor you found yourself in while staring, seeing her settle her chin in her palm and her elbow upon the table, “usually it takes months or even years for someone to find me, let alone single me out. Clever.” She chimes, sipping once more at something you can’t decipher, maybe champagne with a mixer. “Would you like something to eat, or drink perhaps? They’ve got great appetizers.” Before you can answer she snaps her fingers, the thwick of the sound much louder than you’d expect it, like when hearing someone whistle for a taxi.

- a waiter appears, scattering two menus and place settings quickly before the two of you and topping off her flute with something from a corked bottle, scrawled in looping cursive and definitely champagne, then adds a bit of a syrup that smells like pomegranates. The drops sink like dye does, blooming forth in swirls that resemble the Rorschach inkblots. She catches your inquiring gaze. “I love the taste on its own, but there’s just something about the little dash of syrup I’ve come to love.” She drawls, and you finally catch the locale of it, southern. Not too deep, not too slow to be truly at the southernmost part of the United States, but lulling along enough to be southern. Drips forth like the syrup does.

- “reminds me of those myths and tales of Persephone, those pomegranates that locked her to the underworld for part of the year and to Hades’ realm. Those Grecian tales, so full of woe and death.” She rolls her eyes behind the glasses, unable to see but still noted in the movement of her brows in addition to the gesture of her hand. She asks about what you plan on eating and you’re unsure, not just about the food but about the overall situation. Trapped in a hellish loop, sitting down with the one who’s caused it all, with no clear motive, and yet you can’t feel mad. It’s like sedation, sitting with her, numbing the raw and angry parts of yourself.

- you force yourself to come up with what you’ll eat, getting urged by her for an appetizer too, saying you deserve it. Who is this woman? After giving your answer she calls back over the waiter and prattles off your meal choices and her own, kindly and hands back one of the menus but keeps the other and sidles it against the wall of the table, “in case there’s dessert,” she winks.

- you stare, questions rattling about in your head and overloading you, making you just blurt out what was pressing you the most of all the queries you had. And she laughs. It’s a twinkling, delightful sound. It’s laced with something that warns you to not trust completely. “Who am I? Oh darlin’ I was wondering when you’d get around to askin’ that,” she sips her drink then sets it aside, drumming her nails against the hardwood of the table before grinning with pointed teeth that indent at her lip. She takes off the glasses, thick lashes dusting her cheeks before opening to reveal her irises. Gold, just like her rings. Then she speaks.

- “Babydoll, I’m the devil.”

- there’s the one half of you that’s been expecting that sort of answer, relishing in a way that’s akin to an “I’m right! Suck it!” internal celebration. The other half is in a myriad of what the fucks, wondering what is going on and why you’re talking to the devil and why is she hot?? Confused, bewildered, and utterly at a loss. “Why are you doing this to me?” Is what flies from your lips next, still confused as to why you’re even here and why you’re talking with devil as you discuss your looped-in-hell situation.

- “it’s actually quite interesting, y’see, you’re the offspring of someone that owes me. Big time. The resolution was made, through crossroads bargains — Y’know the black magic, Anne Rice novel typa’ shit — and I’m sorry to break the news Sugar, but you’re the price that got paid. The loop was something I’m fiddling with to perfect it, just unfortunate luck that you were the next contestant. In summary short, your heart, soul, and ass are mine.” The devil answers, in sprawling words that sound like signatures spoken aloud as if the personality of someone’s handwriting was flung into the air to be heard.

- you stammer, words failing again, and then the food gets plated before you along with a glass poured with one of your favorite drinks. “Dig in, food won’t bite. I do on the other hand,” she teases, chiding and amused, “ask any questions you’ve got and I’m happy to answer them. I’m rarely in the company of such gorgeous creatures anyhow.”

- Blinking, you’re reeling from everything, and take a fork full of whatever food is in front of you and chew before you say another stupid thing. You watch her, and she goes about her actions as if this is any other day — and you suppose it is, her being Satan and all. She’s tall, taller than yourself you suppose, with a body that’s curved in ways that must’ve written the rules of temptation and sin, especially lust you think as you glance at cleavage that’s just too alluring. All of her is, it’s unfair. Cruel. It’s fitting. She’s the devil, Satan, the big bad, queen of darkness, etcetera.

- “is it the appearance? Sometimes people expect me to have the whole monstrous look, wings and the tail and hooves,” she prompts, eying you with a curious gaze as she sticks a fork into a piece of fried calamari, “I can slip into something hornier if you’d like.” And you almost choke on what you’re chewing before you realize it was a joke, and you see her laugh. She snorts. Imperfect. “Sorry, sorry — i just love that joke so much, it’s funnier when I make the horns show up. At least sometimes it is.”

- “do you not naturally look like that?” Is how you respond, eating another forkful afterward to stop you from rambling or commenting on her appearance, and how yes, you would like to see her step into something hornier. “I do, there’s just degrees and a range in which I look, this being the original form I was made in. The extra stuff is flair from being the devil I’d assume, and the embodiment of all that is evil,” she trails off, chewing then moving on, “it’s not like I was born and immediately formed into lady of all unholiness, what, do you think my name is just The Devil?”

- “is it?” You expect her to laugh, but she just smiles and sips her drink, eying you while she does before setting the glass back down. “It’s not. My name’s Delaney, but I haven’t heard anyone call me that in a long, long time.” And you think about that last segment, wondering how far back it was since she was seen as a person or a thing rather than just the devil.

- “it’s a lovely name,” you comment, turning back to your food only to glance up and see a subtle flush on her olive-skinned features. “Thank you.”

- you note the reaction for later, but soon enough you feel the time of your meal blurring by you, the time more fleeting than wisps of snow in winter's blanketing season. It’s the end of the meal, and conversation flows while the devil escorts you home, elbow crooked in hers as she walks nearest the road and you’re nestled between her and the buildings as the sidewalk takes you home.

- “soul for your thoughts?” She chimes, sunglasses back on her head but she glances over at you from the lens's rim, smiling impishly and turning once you arrive at the steps to your house. “No, no, just wondering about something.”

“Oh? Do tell, love t’hear what’s rattling around in that skull of yours.”

“Feels like a first date.”

- she blinks, and you watch the processing moment before she grins wicked and lazy-like, eyes half-lidded as she extends a hand in proposition. “Would you like to skip to after the third?”

- you say yes, you’re not a fool, and it’s not as if she walks you inside and fucks you silly. No, within a whirlwind you see hours go by and get your consciousness inserted back until when the third date would be. And you’re in the middle of getting eaten out when this gift of consciousness is bestowed. The timing is nothing short of absolutely glorious.

- she’s got you perched on a marble top vanity in a lavish bedroom, a blend of Victorian or Rococo with the scrollwork and filigree in the wood craftsmanship you garner while trying to prevent your orgasm so you can make it last, staring at the ceiling and an ornate tulip-shaped glass light fixture and thinking of other things to not literally black out just yet.

- “There’s my little one, back to me now, okay?” She breaks up from her assault on your pussy, thumb idly rolling circles and smoothing shapes into your puffy clit, “Let go for me so mommy can make a meal out of you.” She smooths your thighs back open and coos when she blows air upon your cunt, laughing when you shudder. She laps at your cunt and peers up at you from beneath dark bangs and even darker lashes, a knife's point of winged eyeliner making the golden hazel eyes shine. You’ve got the devil on her knees eating you out. Casually. Life unwarrantedly signed away sucks but hey, there’s at least cumming on the tongue of the most powerful demon since ever?

- soon you’re crying out and tugging at her hair and coming against her mouth, gushing around her cheeks and chin. She works you through your orgasm and the over sensitivity. And another venture through orgasm. And two additional upon that, her claiming that oral is just foreplay while she sucks your skin clean as she licks up all the aftermath of you squirting from between your thighs, nipping occasionally with tender teeth.

- she hushes your whines with hands that smooth over your belly and heated skin, calming you down until she rises and her tall form cages you in where you sit perched on the vanity.

- “calm down, angel,” she starts, tucking stray hair back into place and cupping your warm cheeks in her palms, smoothing thumbs across your cheekbones with care. She shifts, reaching to grasp your chin between your fingers as her hand wraps at an angle around your neck, “now, can I play with you for a little longer?”

- Regret was not something you had a lot of, but there was not any present in your response. Especially since you had never said yes so fast in your life. The demon laughs before pressing her lips to yours, murmuring beneath her breath in airy huffs of air that grace your teeth and tongue as hers meet yours in the middle, "welcome then, my little Persephone."

— Happy Halloween —

Tags: @mrsbretthand @mollicutes @radioactivebowtie @cognitosclowns @bluebaronness @carnalcringe

[angelichd]

😚

[cognitos-handbook]

Hear me out, how about the gang comforting their s/o who are on their period? I really really adore your writing and hope you’ll have a good day honey 🥺

I WAS HOPING I'D GET THIS ASK!! LMAO

And tysm??? I adore the asks you've been sending in omg

They're all so fun and sweet I'm living for it <33

Period shenanigans below!!

(Also there is a nsft mention w/ Myc, just a heads up <3)

Reagan

Oh god, does she sympathize with you on this; her periods are absolutely fucking AWFUL

Really painful and she ends up being incredibly irritable the entire time

And it's funny bc yknow what? Yall sync up, a million fucking percent certain on that LOL

So rather than her comforting you entirely? It ends up being more of a suffering together and trying not to die type of thing <3

Fuck working; its not like either of you could really focus on anything anyways, and Reagan can get you out without causing problems pretty easily anyways

Yall just hang out together at home, sweatpants and hoodies, binging Great British Bake-Off lmao

Just cuddle up on the sofa together and complain as much as you want and need about your menstrual cycle and how it is literal hell on earth <33

And you damn well better bet she's stocked up on what the both of you need for fuckin sure

Pads, tampons, a large variety of sweets and weird ass snacks, and probably a few inventions of her own to help a bit with the pain/bloating/etc

(Like better/portable heating pads, massage pads, etc.)

She's a literal godsend with that sort of thing

And if you need pain meds she def had those too, and downs them herself like it's nobody's business LMAO

Brett

Mans is hopeless, but he really really does try his best

He wants to help more than anything, don't get me wrong, but he doesn't really know much on how to really go about it??

And he knows he shouldn't be like squicked out by it or anything and he really isn't typically, but he does have his moments lmao

He'll do anything you ask of him no hesitation and no questions asked tho <3

Need pads/tampons? Sure! Might be a lil embarrassed and need to ask a million questions because what the fuck why are there so many types, but he'll do it!!

Snacks? Heating pad? Medication? He's on it

Is definitely concerned about just how much you bleed and how much pain ur in, and how it's just considered normal?? How you tell him it's fine, it's just how it is? Dear lord

He hates seeing you so uncomfortable and in pain </3

He'll get a buncha blankets and pillows and stuffed animals if you want them, and buy a ton of movies for yall to binge together

And he could order yall takeout! Whatever ur craving, yall will spend the night cuddling, binging and eating to your hearts content

Also will happily message ur abdomen if you'd like him to!!

Anything he can do to help <3

Gigi

Now Gigi? This woman is on top of that shit.

She has everything you need, and both her office and home are set up to help and accommodate you

She has your cycle calendar and is always sure to keep track of it for you; half the time she knows it's about to/had started before you even do LOL

She has a stockpile of all the pads/tampons you need, the pain medication that works for you, the snacks that you always prefer, drinks - literally anything you can think of, she has you covered

And if there's anything she missed or anything more you need? She has it for you asap, no problem what-so-ever

Periods suck and she totally gets that, so she's gonna take as much weight off of ur shoulders as she possibly can until it passes for you <3

(She also secretly makes sure you have a lighter workload for the time being, if she's afraid you'll focus on it too much and work urself too hard)

It helps that she's just so incredibly efficient with that sort of thing lmfao

And any sort of comfort and affection you want she's more than happy to provide! Definitely a little more doting than normal (tho she's still pretty doting in gen), and drops anyone else at just the mention of you wanting/needing her

Gigi's got you covered baby, no need to fret <33

Glenn

As someone who’s had a wife and who has a daughter, he knows how it all goes and he’s fairly prepared for it

If you need anything, he’ll get it, sure!

Now the problem arises when it comes to the emotional and hormonal aspect of things lmfao

His avoidance is unmatched, no joke - he doesn’t know how to handle such things and never has really found himself wantig to try

The type to make up exuses to get the hell out and grab you something or for something “work related” should you try and bug him about anything related to all that

Please do it a ton, if only to get him all flustered and nervous like he does LOL

It’s super fun and a surefire way to get him to go out and grab things for you if you need it ;p

He’d never leave you hanging if you like.. actually need or want him though, so don’t worry about that

He’ll stay with you and do his best to comfort you and help; he just may not be the greatest at it, and may be the slightest bit flighty lmfao

But it’s for you! So he’ll stick through it! (And admittedly it helps him feel more comfortable with helping his daughter down the line, so it ends up a win for everyone <3)

So tease and mess with him! It’s funny and cute and works to your advantage haha

Andre

Andre is on some king shit honestly LOL

He’s completely unbothered and 110% willing to get you whatever you need, be it snacks, pads/tampons, movies, etc

Discussed it and yes, Andre would 100% be the “what size pussy you wear” guy, there’s not a single fucking doubt in my mind lmao

He may have a few things whipped up to help with any pain, bloating and such too! That shit’s rough, and it was a fun project to do anyways <3

Definitely all over wanting to just chill and cuddle and just overall vibe, whether it's at home or in his office :)

He’ll give you massages! Rub your abdomen while the two of you lay together, sometimes during meetings when yall are sitting together, almost absentmindedly

It’s very soothing <33

Fr one of the best people to help you through it though, from his tactics in comforting you mentally and physically, and his general goofiness to make sure to keep ur mood up

Even if he’s constantly teasing and making period jokes, because we all know he totally would

( Which is partially just to mess with you, partially to try and get smiles and laughs out of you :) )

Myc

He gives… zero fucks

Well maybe not zero, bc as much of an ass as he is, he doesn’t really enjoy seeing you in pain, y’know?

He acts all nonchalant and uncaring about shit, and like he’s beyond reluctant to actually do anything to help, complaining any time you send him to get shit and ask him for favors

He is actually pretty doting in his own way though, and helps to take care of you and make sure things for you are the least amount of painful and inconvenient as possible

I.e. Making sure you have what’s needed in the way of pads/tampons, medication, etc (He didn’t need to ask - he already knew, which was surprisingly sweet to find out)

He’d also be sure to make people lay off and give you a bit of a break, with plenty of jesting and insults directed their way LOL

He’s honestly pretty soft and actually does pretty well at caring for you, he just has to act like a dick about it bc it’s Myc

He also definitely has his fair share of jokes, much like Andre

(Probably at some point jokes about how one of the solutions for period cramps is sex, knowing him (how that goes I leave up to you LMAO))

He’s a little sweeter in private, too, and pretty touchy partially for comfort and partially to continue to make sure you’re doing alright <33

[voidstilesplease]

3, 19, 20, 25, and 49 for the ask ahah:'D

3. What is the best fandom you’ve ever been involved in?

- I will say Teen Wolf because this one is where I actually interacted with fandom people, made friends, and created the most content. I was only a floater in the past, lmao.

19. Is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

- Thiam, maybe? I wish I liked it because I love Theo, I think Liam is cute, and their canon friendship is adorable. As brotp, definitely. But not so much as a ship 😶.

20. Any ships which you surprised yourself by liking?

- Quite a few! There's a couple I've mentioned here and in addition, are Cora/Lydia and the OT3 Brett/Danny/Isaac! 🖤 Outside of Teen Wolf, there's Simon/Jace/Kyle in TSC, Jason/Percy and Percy/Rachel in Riordanverse, and Thomas/Minho in TMR! 💯

25. What’s your most popular fanfic?

- Overall, my most popular fanfic is this multi-chapter Dramione fic I wrote back in 2013 (which I'm not going to link because I need to stay away from it, hahaha). Recently, it's my Sterek entry for Kinkmas 2020! 😁

49. Do you care if people comment/reblog your writing? Why/why not?

- I do care because I appreciate every support I get and I crave them all the time, but it's also all right that people don't if it's not something they enjoyed! I'll just try again.🖤

Thank you, Sonya 🖤

[kendelias]

All evens for Maya?

ugh braya!! thank you for the content maddie, my children desperately appreciate it. i put the nsfw questions under the cut (just because it’s long, not because they have any shame.)

SFW

2. Who’s the messiest? The cleanest?

i think they are both an equal level of messy/clean. they’ll both give in and clean if they get bothered by it but i think it’s fairly... comfy messy. like there are blankets strewn over chairs but not like. trash on the floor SKFFNFKNKLFNM

4. Living space has a leak! Who fixes it?

let it be known maya can’t do shit as far as fixing things. brett would definitely try and fix it himself let’s be real, and worse comes to worst maya would wrap it up with duct tape and call it a day.

6. Going out to eat: Who pays? Who orders the most food? And who has dessert?

brett insists on paying. all the time. they probably order an equal amount of food but maya definitely gets desert whether brett does or not LMAO.

8. Who knows how to swim? Who doesn’t?

i mean... mermaid queen. for sure knows how to swim. brett does too tbh

10.  Any pets? Or plants?

when they like... actually move out and get their own place they get a dog!! idk his name but he’s the flower boy at their wedding <3 plants... maya would probably forget to water LMAO

12. Can they stand silence? Who talks the most? Who talks the least?

maya does not STOP talking ever. not because she’s uncomfortable but tbh she always has something to say. HOWEVER she always wants to hear brett speak and will absolutely stop for him. he’s mostly quiet though because he just likes listening her go tf off.

14. Who is the highest maintenance? Does the other mind?

maya is definitely more high maintenance than brett but i wouldn’t call her like... High maintenance. she’s a regular gal but she does constantly crave attention and definitely has... ptsd that can be triggered so he has to be careful.

send me otp questions

NSFW

2. Who brings ideas? Who initiates?

maya is a fiend who wants to bring all the ideas she possibly can into the bedroom. an unfortunately kinky bitch. brett’s pretty much down to try anything though so yeah. they both initiate because they’re both horny but maya is somehow hornier.

4. Oddest place they’d have sex?

okay so... bc plot maya is kicked out of her house post-season four. (she does end up living with her a close friend, but, like, for all intents and purposes she does not have her Own Home.) meanwhile, brett lives with satomi. so they have a lot of car sex. like, mostly car sex. SO keeping that in mind, they fuck in his car in the parking lot of the school all the time, but that’s become the standard for them so it’s not necessarily Odd. they once fucked in the school after hours, and reportedly in the woods.

6. Dom/top? Sub/bottom? Any switches?

brett is pretty much always the Dominant because... look at him. but physically maya is On Top (you get it like. actually in the literal sense.) most of the time.

8. Favorite erogenous zones?

maya’s are her breasts, stomach, and inner thighs; brett’s are his abs, inner arms, and his back

10.  First to orgasm? Last to orgasm? Who comes the most? Does someone ever end up unfinished?

MAYA ALWAYS COMES FIRST BECAUSE BRETT IS A KING WHO DRINKS RESPECT WOMEN JUICE. she also comes most. but she will also take care of him at any moment and he usually always comes as well.

12. How are their afterglows?

they’re literally SO fucking cute like… she’s so smiley and sweet and he’s DEFINITELY a caretaker.

14. Lights on or off? Do they look at each other? Or is someone embarrassed?

if it were up to them they would be looking at each other all the time but they mostly fuck in a car so it’s dark.

[thespookyswan]

You’re writing again ❤️❤️ I’m really craving for some jealous!James, maybe over Aleks and Khail friendship? But to be fair just jealous!james novahd is the only thing needed xx

ahaha YEAH I’ll do some jealous James. I haven’t written these two in a long time so I hope it’s good. No Khail bc I don’t really know him, but I used some more recent events :)

The familiar sound of a car door closing in his drivewaystirred James awake. He blinked away the sleep in his eyes and sat up, pullinghis blanket with him and groaning in pain as the change in position made boththe pain in his wrist and his ankle sharpen. In a weak attempt to ignore it hepulled away the curtain by his window and glanced out at the driveway to see whowas there.

Aleks was juggling a bag of fast food, a bag that surelycontained alcohol, and his backpack as he made his way to the front door. Jamespulled the curtain shut and pressed himself into the couch with a huff- so now,what, a week into his injury, Aleks was going to finally come see him? It hadfelt like months since he’d last seen his boyfriend, since he’d pretty muchbeen confided to his couch or his bed, depending on the time of day.

In his time alone, he’d run out of interesting content towatch, and had turned to Cow Chop’s most recent videos- and had found himselfgetting slowly more and more agitated with the amount of touching his boyfriendwas sharing with Alec. Alec was younger, he was attractive no doubt, and justthe way that Alek was all over him in the videos made James about seven hundreddifferent kinds of mad.

‘Jealous.’ Hecould hear Brett saying to him, the last time he’d said something about Aleksharing camera time with someone, ‘I canliterally smell it on you.’

He wasn’t jealous thatAleks’ was spending time with Alec. He had to, if they wanted to push out thecontent that they wanted to. It was more that he was… unhappy with the way that Aleks seemed to enjoy his time with Alec…More than he felt Aleks had enjoyed his times with James in the last fewmonths.

“James?” Aleks kicked the door with one foot then, and witha sigh James pulled himself onto his crutches and made his way to the frontdoor, unlocking it with his good hand and stepping back so Aleks could come in.

Aleks looked very happy to see him for about three seconds,before his face fell into a frown when he felt the energy that James was givingoff. He shimmied out of his backpack and placed the bags in his arms down beforereaching to touch James’s arm.

“What’s with that look? Aren’t you happy to see me? I gotyou food and shit too, and you look like you’d rather eat shit.” Aleks huffed, gesturingto the bags on the ground.

“I’m happy to see you. Would have been happier if you’d beenhere, I don’t know, four days ago.” James said coldly, narrowing his eyes atAleks, who simply returned the look.

“Hey dude, if I went and broke my ankle being a dumbass, you’dhave to work extra-time too!” Aleks replied, turning away from him to grab thestuff and make his way to the kitchen. He was, in no way, going to be taking shitfrom James for picking up his missed time.

James stood in the doorway for a moment and then let out asigh before hobbling after Aleks to the kitchen, quietly pushing out a “Sorry.I didn’t mean it like that.”

Aleks scoffed as he pulled out plates and started to set uptheir dinner, but he waved his hand to brush it off.

“Whatever, dude, it’s probably just your medication talkinganyway. Can I at least get a kiss?” He put on a sly smile, one that James couldn’tdare say no to, and James made his way over to lean down and let Aleks kisshim. It was slow and sweet, and for a moment, he forgot all about how upset hewas. Something about the way that Aleks kissed him always seemed to just make thingsgo away, like the rest of the world didn’t exist and the two of them were it.He hung on it, and Aleks licked his nose obnoxiously.

“Dude, you’re so gay for me,” Aleks laughed as James wipedaway the tongue residue, “You miss me that much? It looked like you hadn’tkissed me in months. I was here on, like, Friday.”

“Friday of last week.” James sighed, shaking his arm where he’dwiped at Aleks’s spit. Aleks shrugged his shoulders and placed down the bottleof booze he got, going back to the cabinets to get them glasses.

“Like I said, I’ve been busy. Alec stayed later today tohelp me…” He kept on talking, but James totally stopped caring at the verymention of Alec. He clenched his fist in a tight ball and watched Aleks’s lipsmove as he told some ridiculous story about the day.

It wasn’t fair that Alec was getting all this time withAleks, while James was kept locked away in his house. It wasn’t fair that Alekdidn’t even think about coming to see James- his boyfriend- in all this time.It wasn’t fair that he was still talkingabout Alec, now, when he was with James. James had reached his limit.

He dropped his crutches and pulled himself over to Aleks,pushing him back into the island and pinning him there roughly with his hips,his good hand grabbing at Aleks’ own to pin the one down to the counter belowand allow no escape. Aleks seemed quite taken back by this move, and he broughthis hand up to rest against James’s chest.

“James?” Aleks said after a second, looking at him with anervous expression “What’s going on?”

“Stop talking about Alec. Do you like him, or something?”James pressed, squeezing Aleks hand very tightly. Aleks let out a grunt andgave him a hard glare.

“Are you kidding? I don’t like Alec! He’s practically a baby!Are you- holy shit dude- are you jealous of Alec?” Aleks raised his eyebrowsand James let an annoyed sound escape his lips as he heard that god damn word- jealous- again.

“I’m not fucking jealous! I just don’t get why you have tobe all over him in the videos, and why the hell you’d rather be with him thenhere with me.” He snapped, deciding this was going nowhere, and turning to walkaway. Aleks wasn’t having that though, and he grasped at James’s shirt to keephim close.

“James. Look at me.”

Even though he didn’t want to, James slowly turned his headback to Aleks, who used his grasp on his shirt to pull James down into anotherkiss. Aleks knew very well exactly what James’s weaknesses were, and their softkisses were number one on the list. They stayed there like that for a longmoment, Aleks being the one to hold them together this time. James slowlydeflated from his angry stance into a more relaxed one, half way leaning onAleks for support.

“James, I think you’re a bit jealous… That’s okay, though. Idon’t mind it.” Aleks let James lean on him, and he brought one hand up intoJames’s hair to play with the curls. James let out a small huff.

“I’m not- I just don’t like you spending so much time withfuckin’ Alec.”

“Yeah, James, that’s called being jealous.” Aleks snorted,bumping their heads together, “How about I call in sick tomorrow, and you canhave me all day tonight, and all day tomorrow, for whatever you want. Wouldthat make you less jealous?”

There was a long drawl of silence as James debated exactlywhat he wanted. Of course he wanted Aleks to stay with him, there was zeroquestion there. He was tired of the silence of his house and his cold bed. Hewanted that obnoxious laughter and Aleks beside him. He was only worried aboutwhat production might be like the next day… but in the end, he chose to be selfish.After all, he was the one with a broken ankle.

“Yeah. Stay with me. I’m not jealous, but, it will make mefeel better.” James said, and Aleks rolled his eyes before kissing at James’scheek and helping him get back onto his crutches. Once he was standing on hisown again and not totally being a baby, Aleks went back to the food… and Jameskept his eyes on his ass pretty much the whole time.

He figured he might as well give him a valid reason not togo into work the next day.

[glittergummicandypeach]

Is QAnon the newest American religion?

QAnon adherents, insofar as I've seen photos of them at President Trump's campaign rallies or attached to reports on the conspiracy theory they profess, are remarkable mainly for how normal they appear. They look like Midwestern moms or the guy in your neighborhood who lets everyone borrow his pickup.

Still, QAnon isn't mainstream, at least not yet. A CNN poll published last month found 76 percent of Americans have never heard of it. But QAnon's affection for Trump and visibility at his events are raising the theory's profile — and the QAnon movement is evolving in a curious way: It's spawning a new religion, maybe even the first of new breed of religious organization in America.

The QAnon movement started on 4chan, an anonymous message board influential in online culture but generally considered outside the bounds of the respectable internet, not least because it has repeatedly made the news in connection to child pornography. That makes the site an odd first home for QAnon, whose narrative centers on a cabal of powerful figures in government, business, academia, and media who make time for child sex trafficking and satanic sacrifice in their busy schedule of world domination. Q is the movement's anonymous digital prophet whose forum posts ("Q drops," now migrated from 4chan to a similar site called 8kun) reveal both the nature of the cabal and Trump's heroic plan to defeat it. QAnon's most fervent followers reach a point of obsession, clinging to it even at cost of total estrangement from their bewildered families.

An in-depth report on QAnon in The Atlantic's June issue closes with the suggestion that QAnon could become the latest in a series of "thriving religious movements indigenous to America." But research from a Concordia University doctoral student, Marc-André Argentino, shows the church of QAnon already exists and seems poised to spread. Argentino attended an online QAnon church where, he reports, two-hour Sunday services with several hundred attendees consist of prayer, communion, and interpretation of the Bible in light of Q drops and vice versa. The leaders' goal, Argentino says, "is to train congregants to form their own home congregations in the future and grow the movement."

It's not inconceivable that they'll succeed, especially after pandemic restrictions ease and in-person gatherings resume. (The pandemic, of course, fits neatly into the QAnon narrative as a plot to oust Trump before the mass arrests and executions of cabal members can begin.) Many QAnon members express a desire for community, describing how they try to convert loved ones to their cause and browse QAnon hashtags to make like-minded friends. QAnon church would fill that need, as religious gatherings long have done.

That's what makes me think the church of QAnon may be a portent of things to come: Traditional religiosity is declining in America, but humanity will not cease to be religious. It will merely diversify its sources of increasingly customized religiosity. From lapsed evangelicals, as many QAnon adherents seem to be, to religiously unaffiliated "nones," people crave the community, meaning, and purpose church provides, even if they abandon or reject its teachings.

Satisfying that craving with politics and conspiracy theories isn't new, but the QAnon church's self-description as a church stands out. It's one thing for outside observers to characterize a political movement as religious in its enthusiasm or expectations of loyalty; it's another for participants to explicitly brand their own community as religious and start holding services.

Whether other groups, especially of dramatically different political persuasions, will make the same leap is difficult to say. Could we see something comparable on the left?

On the one hand, there is some unique resonance with this style of religiosity and the political right. QAnon builds on apocalyptic thinking common in parts of evangelical and fundamentalist Christianity in America. Q drops frequently include Bible passages, and the style of study of scripture and Q texts employed — the careful search for hidden prophetic meaning and correspondence to history and current events — is very much a creature of the religious right, an heir aberrant of Left Behind and The Late, Great Planet Earth.

On the other hand, one of the strangest things about QAnon is it's a conspiracy theory born of victory, not defeat. Trump is president, after all. But typically, "conspiracy theories are for losers," University of Miami political scientist Joseph Uscinski told The Daily Beast. "Normally you don't expect the winning party to use them." And perhaps this is why QAnon is taking a religious form: Having Trump in power allows for hope where most conspiracy theories offer only an account of evil. QAnon adherents believe their work decoding Q drops contributes to an achievable final triumph. Forming communities, then, has a purpose beyond commiseration.

If the victory-born nature of QAnon is thus significant, we might look for similar "churches" to pop up elsewhere as the national balance of power shifts. A Democratic president in the Trumpian mold — a populist demagogue prone to attributing every failure to sabotage — could inspire something similar. I wouldn't expect the same Christian syncretism, but neopaganism (remember the story of the Brooklyn witches hexing Brett Kavanaugh?) or broadly new-age spiritualism might do the trick, producing a service with, say, meditation and a spell instead of prayer and communion.

Q, for one, would no doubt take this development in stride, adding it to the QAnon mythology for his followers — er, parishioners? — to parse next Sunday.

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This content was originally published here.

[maleposting]

I would treat him so good. I would make him the happiest man in the whole world. I would give him so many praises, I would praise every single part of his body and soul. I would bury him in kisses and bites and all forms of physical contact. not all, but all that he is comfortable with. because I would never make him uncomfortable, I would comfort and hold him whenever he needs me to. I would hold him in my arms and tell him that he doesn't need to do anything for me to know that he loves me, and that just being by my side was enough. he is enough. and I would love him. so, so, so much.

[sepickard]

Isn’t It Ironic?

Isn’t It Ironic...

That one year ago I wrote my last post about choosing happiness and here I am wondering if I’m truly happy on my own. This time last year I thought I had met the man of my dreams and boy was I so wrong. 

Christopher Henry Boboc or that asshole as I like to remember him by made me experience the worst heartbreak I had ever felt before from someone I truly believed was my soulmate. He had what I thought was everything I possibly needed or wanted in a man, I thanked god that someone like him loved me and I truly felt like he was my person. I filled my dreams with thoughts of us together, he told me he loved me and wanted to have my children. Unfortunately I believed him, but what hurt me most was my own failure to see who he was and that I had been tricked into there so called signs from God that we were soulmates. He ghosted me in the worst possible way and I was left clutching the broken pieces of my heart. It took me far longer to move on than I care to admit and I went through several hook-ups and relationships trying to numbing the pain all while telling myself I was okay. 

Now here I am asking myself a year later if I have remembered to choose happiness. In all honesty I’m not sure I have and apparently giving myself grace is not something I’m very good at apparently. I am with a new man who is wildly different but also similar and so much better. Yet I’m questioning things, is it because I’m in a funk today, or that I’m comparing him to Christopher, or he isn’t the one, or perhaps I haven't quite learned true self love like I thought I had?

This morning I had therapy and mostly just cried for reasons I’m not entirely sure of, I mentioned problems with Zach but even in talking to her about them they all seemed insignificant as soon as the words escaped my mouth. I’m having problems trusting him even though he’s given me no reason not to yet my insecurities come crawling in that all men are liars and damn good ones at that. I went through his phone the other night and it cause an anxiety attack perhaps? If so mine aren’t the normal can’t catch your breath but instead the intense shaking as if I was sitting in an igloo in Alaska without a coat. There was really nothing there other than a girl who messaged him on instagram and he clearly wasn’t interested for he said he was too busy with work to be with her yet she kept coming back. Was it the girl or the fact that he had never mentioned her before? Perhaps it’s because he had told me he hadn't dated anyone in over a year and hadn’t even slept with anyone which only confuses me more and I pray that he told the truth because why lie? He knows everything I’ve done and even while we had started seeing each other. 

I think the biggest problem maybe stems from a fear I had that came from Christopher and that Zach is terrible at texting at work and gets busy and we don’t talk. Do I really need him to keep me entertained? I freak when he’s on social media before messaging me, am I trying to control his time? Or is it really truly just rude? He tends to blow me up no problem but whenever I need to talk he’s busy or I don’t quite get the response that I would have given him. It’s something we’ve talked about constantly and I know he feels like I can be nagging, I hate that about myself too. My biggest fear is that I will constantly have to remind him to make me a priority and I will never feel the relief I need in talking to him about mundane everyday things the way he feels that relief. Unfortunately I haven’t even had that much going on and maybe that’s part of the problem. I am working on real estate classes and working for Brett which is honestly most of the time boring, not something I’m usually excited about. My biggest concern is that Zach will never put me before him that he will always be selfish, but aren’t I selfish for always wanting to be put first? It’s not even first it’s just being shown the same amount of interest.

Is it that I have other fears crowding my ability to look at Zach with fresh eyes or is it that we’re trying to hard for something that’s not right? I looked at Christopher and fell deeper in love with him with everything he did even when he was so weird. I felt it in every bone in my body and swore I knew he was the one. Was it all really just lust? Am I afraid to look at Zach the same way? Is he afraid to let himself fall? I know he cares so very much but I know even he holds back and is slower moving. Are relationships truly more mundane and I’ve been relying on guys to bring me joy instead of finding that joy myself?

So this is where is goes back to me choosing happiness except this time I’m learning to choose happiness for myself. I will do anything for someone else in a relationship and I love to learn and grow and feel adored and loved but maybe I’m putting more of me to the side than I realized. Hell even Zach notices that about me and he does know how to calm me and care for me more than I realize I needed. Is this a journey that has an end or will I always be fighting for it? I want that happiness and contentment and to be okay when I’m alone. Today could just be one of those emotional days but maybe it’s so much more.

I haven't been happy with my body weight even though I work out and try and eat healthy, I can certainly can continue to try harder to eat more protein and veggies as well as changing up my workout. It just seems to be getting to me, the same as it is that I seem to nitpick everything Zach does and get upset over no sex. When did I let it control my life so much? I want to enjoy every minute with Zach and let myself fall because I do have such strong feelings for him. We have the same faith, political views, creative minds, goofy personality, he pushes and challenges me, there are so many good things so why do I always focus on the negative? Why do I try and make him perfect as if that will fix everything, what about myself? What am I doing wrong that’s making me question something so good and so real? I get bored or I don’t hear from him and it’s like I’m ready to throw hands. What’s happened to me? Can I rewrite my definition of true love? I still want those butterflies and laughter and to erase all doubt. Am I protecting myself too much or just forcing him to be something he’s not when he’s shown me so much good in him? I don’t feel like I deserve it sometimes and hell I know he doesn’t deserve half the shit I put him through. I crave the drama and the emotions of life but I want to choose something new. Help me to choose happiness and joy and good stressors in life, not just the ones that are overly emotional. I want to be attached to Zach in a healthy way and if he’s not meant for me then Lord please show him the door. I have so much uncertainty and I wish I felt like I did with Christopher, what I thought true love was meant to be so help me to let that go and learn again.

If Zach isn’t able to give me what I need I need to be happy no matter what and I should figure out a way to get there all on my own. I don’t want that to be the case, I know I’m his best friend I just want him to truly be mine. Lord help me to understand my heart and if I’m pushing him too much or if this is right. I know I ask for so much help and answers and maybe that’s wrong but we’re all just trying to figure it out. How funny that a boy who left me made me think I was the happiest and now a boy who has proven he’s here to stay makes me question it all. It’s time to say goodbye to the drama and figure out how to choose me and my own happiness, I pray Zach stays along for the ride.

[gabriellakirtonblog]

[The Best] Shattering Your Own Limitations, and More

Want to put great fitness content on our radar? Post on Facebook and include #PTDCBestSubmission. 

Best Content of the Week

[Article] Act Three of Your Own Success Story — Dean Somerset, deansomerset.com

Do you now the history of the four-minute mile?

For a century, some of the world’s most celebrated athletes had steadily lowered the record for the mile run. They inched closer and closer to the four-minute mile, but they always stopped just short. Many believed it was physically impossible to run a mile in less than four minutes.

That changed on May 6, 1954, when Roger Bannister ran it in three minutes and 59.4 seconds, breaking the world record by two seconds.

What’s even more remarkable is what happened next. On June 21, 1954, just six weeks after Bannister’s seemingly superhuman achievement, John Landy became the second person to run a sub-four-minute mile. A year later, three more joined the club.

The lesson here goes far beyond running.

Sometimes, in our lowest moments, we just need to know that success is possible, that someone out there has experienced a similar challenge and made it through to the other side. Knowing it’s been done seems to expand our sense of our own potential.

That’s the gift Dean Somerset offers this week when he recounts the monumental challenges he faced during the 2008 economic crisis. If you’re struggling right now, and wondering how you’ll ever put the pieces back together, you really need to read his story.

— Dani Singer

Best Article

How to Retain Gains and Lose Fat in Crazy Times — Sohee Lee, T Nation

There’s been a lot of talk about how to pursue your pre-pandemic goals while you’re locked out of your gym, or whether you should even try. Sohee Lee tackles those questions with actionable, research-backed advice, offering reassurance for those worried about losing the strength and muscle they’ve worked so hard to build.

— Shane McLean

Best Video

Have You Been Lunging Correctly? — Kelly Starrett, The Ready State

With body-weight workouts being all the rage right now (by default, if you weren’t quick enough to get your share of the strategic dumbbell reserve before it disappeared), this is the perfect time for a refresher course on the lunge. In this week’s top video, Kelly Starrett explains why so many of us prefer reverse lunges to other variations, what it says about our mobility, and what to do about it.

— Esther Avant

Best Social Media Post

View this post on Instagram

I know this may seem like heresy but one thing that does not move the needle much for me anymore are the endless debates about exercises & training modalities I see online. My CPA laughed when I asked him if accountants get online to endlessly debate software, best practices etc. I then asked a buddy who spent 20+ years in the military if he made it a point to regularly seek out arguments about the "best" way to load their weapon. You know what he told me? That while, of course, they always sought ways to improve tactical strategy the real foundation of anything they did was improved communication. There comes a time in any field where you have to expand & evolve your skillset. There’s so much more to the performance field than sets, reps, exercises & sport science. You manage PEOPLE at the end of the day. Steve Jobs didn't just make computers his entire life. He played a wide variety of roles. Yet as coaches, it’s as if many just want to die broken on the training floor so they can prove they are the “real deal.” Who are you really trying to prove things to? How can a field so obsessed w/ adaptation become so stagnant in how they adapt professionally? Here's the truth. With training, things change to a degree, but sound principles remain the same. The real reason many coaches continue to debate this stuff to no end is that it's a form of value signaling in a field where our inputs don't always equal clear outputs. Scarcity-based mindsets, insecurity & superiority complexes lead to people often trying to win arguments as opposed to simply trying to win at life. I'll take it a step further. If you're using this time simply to talk about exercises, training tactics & the like- instead of diversifying your learning by looking into other topics such as financial management, communication & how to better address leadership as a whole you're missing the boat. Learn to periodize your career, your learning & your life- NOT just your training. Don't let your self-image dictate who & what you become. Refuse to be defined by ONE thing. I consider myself a coach, business owner & father. I’m whatever I need to be to help the most people. How about you?

A post shared by Brett Bartholomew (@coach_brettb) on Apr 28, 2020 at 11:27am PDT

Posted by Brett Bartholomew on Tuesday, April 28, 2020

When we talk about personal training, we think of the “personal” part in terms of our clients. But as Brett Bartholomew reminds us, it’s also about us, and how we evolve as people in our many roles. “Learn to periodize your career, your learning, and your life,” he advises. That growth is the key to a long, successful career in the fitness industry.

— Christina Abbey

Best Podcast

Lean and Strong — Josh Hillis and Jason Leenaarts, Revolutionary YOU!

“Let the monsters ride the bus,” says Josh Hillis, author of the recently published Lean and Strong. It’s his way of saying we need to accept our feelings and cravings for what they are while holding tight to our personal values during the struggle to lose weight.

— Mike Howard

More Great Fitness Content 

[Article] New Week, New Environment, New Strategies for a New World — Bryan Krahn, bryankrahn.com

[Video] 13-Minute Routine to Undo a Day of Desk Work — Eric Wong, Precision Movement

[Video] How to Tell if Your Feet Are Pronated or Supinated — Mike Wasilisin, MoveU

[Article] Promoting Physical Activity for Mental Well-Being — Stephanie Cooper, ACSM

[Article] How to Get Out of a Rut in About 20 Minutes — David Cain, Raptitude

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[randallvangundy]

Solid Gold Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food Review

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Things to Consider Before Buying Cat Food

Buying cat food is no cakewalk. Some people find it helpful when they see a handful of options in one store alone, but others might quickly get overwhelmed by the choices. If you’re unsure which one to take to the counter, the best thing you can do is to consider these factors:

Ingredients

Don’t forget that cats are carnivores, but a lot of cat owners don’t realize it. What it means is that your feline’s diet must have a diet consisting of meat for the most part. Avoid cat food filled with grains and grain by-products. There’s a ton of meat options, including beef, chicken, pork, lamb, duck, and turkey. Fish is a viable option, too.

Nutritional Value

Everyone is guilty of being lazy when it comes to reading product labels. I’m not ashamed to admit it, but I learned my lesson a long time ago. Some of my cats are overly sensitive to particular stuff, and not reading the specific ingredients in a canned product almost killed one of them. Put in the time to read the label. Embrace the responsibility – after all, it wouldn’t take a minute. The information from the label is enough to make you curious about what your cat is getting out of that can.

Smell and Texture

If your cat isn’t a picky eater, you’re lucky! Some cats dig salmon but will ditch a beef cat food in a heartbeat. While you’re focused on avoiding one type of meat or ingredient, the truth is that cats are selective on the smell and texture of the product. Sadly, the only way to determine if one product will suit your feline’s standards is through trial and error.

You can at least go on and read the things about the Solid Gold Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food that may convince you to give it a try for your always hungry furry bud.

Solid Gold Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food Review

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Choosing the Solid Gold Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food gives you a product that addresses your cat’s carnivorous diet needs. It promises to be devoid of grain and gluten and instead comes with a high-protein formula. The product comes with chicken as the primary protein source, along with about twenty “superfoods.”

The product is potentially the perfect meal for your feline if she’s grown accustomed to dry food. If you’re looking at something to prevent weight gain and the possible onset of diabetes, this one is a sensible choice since it is a high-protein and low-carb canned food.

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Quick Glance

What’s Good

High-quality US-sourced chicken

Does not cause allergies

Low in carbohydrates, perfect for weight management

Gluten-free

What’s Bad

Not ideal for cats that don’t drink a lot of water

The odor may not sit well with some cats

Solid Gold Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food Features and Benefits

Check Amazon’s Price

Gluten and Grain-Free Food

The product is free from common allergens in cats like soy, wheat, and corn. The lack of grains does not mean it isn’t complete. It is a high protein dry food packed with vitamins and minerals. The presence of “superfood” ingredients contributes to the nutritional balance of the product. It does not have meat by-products, either.

USA-Raised Chicken

Not all chicken meat is the same. If you’re up for a safe protein source for your cat, Solid Gold Indigo guarantees USA-raised chicken that will make you feel confident about the source. The addition of the whole egg means your feline is getting the amino acids to aid in metabolism, while fiber-rich peas reinforce the protein source.

Low Carbohydrates Formula

Crude protein makes up over 40% of Indigo Moon, making it one of the most compact protein cat food products out there. If you have a diabetic, overweight, or active cat, then this product can help you deal with the challenge of finding a healthy and ideal diet. The minimal carbohydrate content prevents the spike in blood glucose levels, plus it won’t cause digestive issues.

Fiber-Rich Prebiotics

The manufacturer boasts its patented, protected living probiotic component. This dry cat food offers an entirely healthy meal, thanks to the mixture of carefully selected superfoods, fatty acids, and protected probiotics. The superfoods serve as the balancing component of the otherwise protein-rich food; the omega fatty acids help in maintaining a soft and shiny coat; the living probiotics boost the cat’s immune system.

Nutrient-Rich Superfoods

The Solid Gold Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food represents what holistic pet food should be. The manufacturer offers a 100% guarantee, giving you the chance to return the product should you feel that it isn’t at par with the highest standards of cat food. The most distinctive component of this product is its nutrient-rich superfoods which include cranberries, blueberries, almond oil, pumpkin, carrots, lentils, and broccoli. Customer Feedback

Nothing is more reliable than a first-hand account from a person who had the opportunity to use the product, which is why I took the honor of finding them on your behalf. Here’s a bunch of reviews about the Solid Gold Indigo Moon:

Alternatives To Solid Gold’s Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food:

The Solid Gold Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food isn’t the only option out there. These products offer similar perks:

Dr. Elsey’s Cleanprotein Formula Dry Cat Food

Like the Solid Gold Indigo Moon, this product is available in chicken, although you can buy one with salmon as the primary source of protein. It is also grain and gluten-free and contains Omega 3 fatty acids. It is available in a 2-lb pack, while the smallest package for Solid Gold Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food is at 3lbs.

CRAVE Grain Free High Protein Dry Cat Food

This product is like the Indigo Moon in a way that it contains at least 40% protein with small traces of carbohydrates. Chicken is the primary protein source, while other notable ingredients include tapioca, split peas, and chicken fat. This dry cat food is also available in salmon, duck, and turkey.

Veterinary Diets Purina Pro Plan DM Dietetic Management Dry Food

Marketed as a special formula for cats with unique dietary needs, which makes the Purina Veterinary Diets dry cat food distinctive is its high levels of Omega-6 fatty acids. Both the Solid Gold Indigo Moon and CRAVE Dry Cat Food contain Omega-3 fatty acids, but this one takes the cake when it comes to additional antioxidants. But you’ll have to pay more for a 10lb bag.

Our Final Thoughts

Giving the wrong food to your car can cause harm. As the owner, you carry the responsibility of finding the best food options available out there. You want to give your feline the food that best resembles her natural diet. In other words, it must be protein-filled and should have as little carbohydrate content as possible. You can’t come up with your formula unless you’re a vet yourself. If you want to play it safe, you may want to check out the Solid Gold Indigo Moon Dry Cat Food here.

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[theconservativebrief]

DETROIT, Michigan — After Hillary Clinton lost the Rust Belt to Donald Trump, some Democrats argued that it would take machismo to win back white, blue-collar men. But this year’s midterm election looks set to prove them wrong. In 2018, it’s women who are poised to deliver the region for Democrats.

Women candidates like Gretchen Whitmer, the Democrat expected to make it to the governor’s mansion; Mari Manoogian, a Democrat running for state representative; and Mallory McMorrow, also a Democrat, running for the state Senate are all on the ballot in Michigan, the heart of the Rust Belt. And all have a strong shot at winning.

Whitmer is up by 12 points in the polls against Republican Bill Schuette. She’s running on competence and follow-through in a state where Republicans have neglected key infrastructure — one of her campaign messages is “Fix the Damn Roads.”

“What people in Michigan want is someone who does what they say they’re going to do, who is real and stays focused on the issues that matter to families,” Whitmer told me at a Dearborn campaign event earlier this month. “It’s not about macho, it’s about getting things done.”

Whitmer and other women running are showing that bringing their experiences as women to the campaign trail doesn’t have to be “identity politics,” at least not the way critics use the term. They’re pitching themselves as different from what’s gone before, in ways that include, but aren’t limited to, their gender.

“For me, it’s about more than just being a woman,” the 26-year-old Manoogian told me about her run for the statehouse. “It’s about being a young woman and a product of the community.”

Voters — especially women clamoring for a change from Trump — are listening.

“I’m tired of the masculine leadership,” said Kim Boudreau Smith, a Birmingham, Michigan business coach who didn’t vote for Clinton in 2016, when Manoogian and McMorrow visited her home on an October canvassing outing. “We really need a lot, a lot of changes.”

In the wake of the 2016 election, many pundits coalesced around one explanation for Trump’s win: He’d been unexpectedly successful at pulling white working-class voters away from the Democratic Party, especially in areas of Michigan, Ohio, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania that had gone for Obama in 2008 and 2012.

“In the end, the bastions of industrial-era Democratic strength among white working-class voters fell to Mr. Trump,” wrote Nate Cohn in the New York Times, under the headline, “Why Trump Won: Working-Class Whites.”

As those surprised by Trump’s victory continued to dissect the election, many focused on a particular slice of white, working-class voters: men in the Rust Belt who worked in (or who had recently lost) manufacturing jobs.

President Trump introduces Ken Wilson, an employee of H&K Equipment, to supporters at a rally in Coraopolis, Pennsylvania, on January 18, 2018. Jeff Swensen/Getty Images

“If there’s such a thing as a Trump Democrat,” Edward McClelland wrote in an op-ed at the Washington Post, “he’s exemplified by Bill Peek, a UAW member who worked 41 years for General Motors at the Saginaw Central Foundry.” He quoted Peek praising Trump’s toughness — “All of our businesses should be penalized if they move their plants overseas. He’s gonna put his foot down.”

“He’s ahead of Clinton in my book,” Peek told McClelland. “He’s a businessman. If anybody’s gonna get us out of here and get us back on our feet like it should be, he’s the one.”

McClelland wasn’t the only one to focus on post-industrial Michigan to explain Trump’s win. For a 2017 Atlantic story calling on the Democratic Party to recommit to the white working class, Franklin Foer spent time in Macomb County, outside Detroit.

“Once upon a time, Macomb was a testament to the force of the New Deal, a vision of middle-class life made possible by the fruits of American industry,” Foer wrote. “But over the years, Macomb grew distant from the party, and then furious with it.”

Trump beat Clinton by 12 percentage points in Macomb, and Foer uses the county as a springboard for the argument that Clinton lost the election in part because she paid too much attention to the ideals of the “cultural left” — which seeks “the validation of minorities and women in the eyes of the national culture” — at the expense of the “economic left” whose populism was more appealing to working-class white voters.

Foer doesn’t believe Democrats necessarily need male candidates to appeal to the disaffected of Macomb — his example of the party’s potential populist future is Elizabeth Warren. But he does argue that Democrats may have been focusing too much (or at least in the wrong way) on gender and racial justice, thus alienating voters who don’t like hearing about such things.

And he quotes Bernie Sanders’s now-famous post-election criticism of identity politics (and, by extension, of the Clinton campaign): “It is not good enough for someone to say, ‘I’m a woman! Vote for me!’”

The message of much analysis of the 2016 election, then, is as follows: Hillary Clinton, the first woman presidential nominee from a major party, focused too much on her own gender and on “cultural” issues generally, at the expense of the issues that really matter to white working-class voters in places like Michigan, and especially white, working-class men.

Donald Trump, meanwhile, was the macho man the Rust Belt craved. To beat him and his ilk, Democrats should feed that craving — either with white, male candidates (Joe Biden comes up a lot) or, at the very least, by not talking so much about gender and race.

But a look at Michigan reveals the shortcomings of this narrative. It’s possible to talk both about so-called cultural issues and about economics — and it’s possible to talk about the importance of women in politics without saying it’s the only thing that matters. (Something that, it’s worth noting, Clinton never did.)

The women running in Michigan aren’t saying, “I’m a woman! Vote for me!” But they are campaigning on their unique experience, which includes their gender. And rather than recoil in horror from “identity politics,” voters are seeing something appealingly different.

In 2013, when Whitmer was the minority leader of the Michigan State Senate, Republicans backed a bill that required women to purchase an additional insurance rider if they wanted coverage for abortion. The bill contained no exception for pregnancy resulting from rape.

In explaining her “no” vote, Whitmer told a personal story she had never shared publicly before.

Gretchen Whitmer speaks with community members and organizers in Detroit, Michigan on December 19, 2017. Ali Lapetina for The Washington Post via Getty Images

“Over 20 years ago I was a victim of rape,” she said in a speech to the state Senate. “If this were law then, and I had become pregnant, I would not be able to have coverage because of this.”

“I am not the only woman in our state that has faced that horrible circumstance,” Whitmer went on. “I am not enjoying talking about it. It’s something I’ve hidden for a long time, but I think you need to see the face of the women that you are impacting by this vote today.”

[embedded content]

Despite Whitmer’s emotional speech, the measure passed. “I bared my soul to the world and it didn’t make a single difference in the vote,” Whitmer told me on the way to a rally with Bernie Sanders in Ann Arbor this month. “I went to bed incredibly depressed that night.”

But soon, she said, women and men around the state began calling and emailing her office, and posting on Facebook, to tell their own stories.

“We were just overwhelmed by the enormous supportive reaction,” she said. “I didn’t change that vote that day, but I added my voice to a conversation that was long overdue.”

The moment in some ways anticipated the spread of the #MeToo movement, to which Whitmer contributed last year with a video she posted on Facebook.

“I shared my story of sexual assault during a tough debate at the Capitol,” she says in the video. “But I did it because women’s voices weren’t being heard.”

Whitmer has also been outspoken about the sexual misconduct allegations against Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh. On the day Christine Blasey Ford testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee that Kavanaugh had assaulted her when both were in high school, Whitmer tweeted simply, “I believe Dr. Ford.”

“Anyone who’s a survivor knows it’s a lifelong scar you carry,” Whitmer told me. “It’s painful to see another woman discounted,” she added, “but it’s also something that added more energy to the work that I’m doing as a candidate.”

There was a time when talking about something like sexual assault was considered dangerous for female candidates.

“For women historically, the challenge has been that the expectations of candidates and officeholders have aligned more often with masculine traits and masculine areas of expertise,” said Kelly Dittmar, an assistant professor of political science at Rutgers University and co-author of the book A Seat at the Table: Congresswomen’s Perspectives on Why Their Representation Matters.

“I think that’s changing this year,” she said. “Women are really pushing the boundaries.”

Women candidates in this election cycle are pioneering a new way of running for office, Maeve Coyle, deputy director of campaign communications for Emily’s List, which supports pro-choice Democratic women and has endorsed Whitmer, told me.

“They’re not shying away from their personal stories, and they’re not following any specific formula to what a candidate should or shouldn’t look like,” Coyle said. “We have candidates all across the country who are kind of just throwing the playbook out of the window.”

That doesn’t mean they’re saying voters should cast their ballots based on gender alone. Rather, Dittmar explained, women candidates like Whitmer are saying, “gender is among the value-added pieces of me that I bring. It’s not just being a woman, it’s living my life as a woman and all of the experiences that brings.”

Whitmer isn’t the only Michigan candidate taking this approach. For Mari Manoogian, a former State Department employee and Birmingham native running for the state House of Representatives there, gender is just one factor she believes gives her a unique perspective on her state’s problems.

Michigan State House of Representatives candidate Mari Manoogian in Birmingham, Michigan, on October 19, 2018. Anna North/Vox

The issues facing Michigan, from education to health care to the environment, would benefit from fresh ideas, and one way to introduce those, Manoogian says, “would be having a different kind of representation, whether that’s young people, or women, or homegrown people.”

“That’s, to me, why I think it’s really important to me to have diverse leadership,” she said.

For McMorrow, a 32-year-old industrial designer who’s worked for Mazda and Mattel, 2016 was a wake-up call that more women needed to get involved in politics. “It wasn’t just that Trump got elected, it’s that we had somebody who was openly bragging about sexual assault get elected.”

“That was really a push that got a lot of people in,” she said, speaking of the unprecedented numbers of women running for office in the wake of the 2016 election. “But now I think the reasons we’ve all stayed in and found success have been very different.”

She believes she brings something new to the table in Michigan, but it’s as much about her background as her gender. “My skill set as an industrial designer and the way that I think about solving problems is gravely missing from our political process,” she said.

Manoogian, McMorrow, and Whitmer are spending plenty of time talking with voters about issues that cut across gender. All have promised to work to fix the state’s pothole-ridden roads. All have pledged to help clean up the water — the state, still reeling from the Flint water crisis, now faces another potential threat to citizens’ health as toxic chemicals called PFAS have been found in water consumed by more than 1.5 million residents.

“Who the governor is impacts our lives every single day, from when we turn on the tap water and brush our teeth, to when we drive our roads to take our kids to school, to the schools that they attend,” Whitmer said in a speech at the Arab American Chamber of Commerce in Dearborn on October 19.

Polls suggest that, at least in Michigan, women candidates’ pitches are working on voters. Though her margin has shrunk in some polls, Whitmer is favored to beat her Republican opponent, Bill Schuette, who has the endorsement of President Trump.

Michigan, where Republican Gov. Rick Snyder is departing due to term limits, was one of the top states targeted for pickup this year by the Democratic Governors’ Association. Snyder is unpopular because of his handling of the crisis in Flint, and voters may be soured on Republicans as a result. But the Democrats also like their chances due to Whitmer’s strengths as a candidate.

“You’ve got to run the campaign that is authentic to you,” said David Turner, deputy communications director for the Democratic Governors Association. “She is clearly comfortable in her own skin, she knows exactly why she’s running, who she’s running for, and what she’s going to do to help them.”

Meanwhile, Democrats hope to gain control of the Michigan House of Representatives, and believe they may have a shot at the state Senate as well — and women candidates are a big reason why. Democrats are running a woman candidate in 10 of the top 13 target races in the House, according to the Detroit News, and in seven of the nine top races in the Senate. Among these key races are Manoogian’s, against Republican David Wolkinson for an open Republican seat, and McMorrow’s, against Republican incumbent Marty Knollenberg.

Michigan State House of Representatives candidate Mari Manoogian, left, and Michigan State Senate candidate Mallory McMorrow, right, canvassing in Birmingham, Michigan, on October 19, 2018. Anna North/Vox

In some cases, Democratic women have been able to appeal to groups and voters across the aisle. Republican Women for Progress, a PAC started by Republican women who supported Clinton in the 2016 election, has endorsed two Democratic women from Michigan, Haley Stevens and Elissa Slotkin, for Congress. The endorsement “was inspired by us talking to Republican women in these districts where they said there was just no way that they could vote for the Republican,” Meghan Milloy, co-founder of Republican Women for Progress, told the Detroit Metro Times.

“We think the best thing that we can do for the party and for the country right now is to make sure there are good women — Democrat or Republican — that are elected to office and who can serve as a check on this administration and on the president,” she added.

It’s not just Michigan; around the Rust Belt and the Midwest, Democrats are betting on women to win. In Minnesota, Ilhan Omar is favored to become one of the first Muslim women elected to Congress. In Pennsylvania, a record eight women, seven of them Democrats, are running for congressional seats. In Ohio, women make up 44 of 99 Democratic candidates for the state House of Representatives, and seven of 17 candidates for state Senate. Six of them recently got together to form Ohio Women Lead, a group that has produced a video ad and is working on get out the vote efforts.

“In prior elections, women may have been less likely to talk on the campaign trail about what it’s like to be a mom and balance family and work,” Rep. Kristin Boggs, who is leading the group, told the Columbus Dispatch. “With these candidates, our families have been such a motivating factor about why they’ve gotten into the election. They are actively talking about it, using it to connect with other women who are just as frustrated with the state of affairs.”

Meanwhile, across the country, women likely voters are favoring Democrats at even higher rates than usual. In a September survey, women in Michigan supported Democrats by more than 20 percentage points.

Historically, women tend to vote their party, not their gender, Dittmar said. However, there is evidence that having a woman on the ballot can increase women’s enthusiasm and engagement in the election, if they share her party, she added. “I do think that we are seeing that this year.”

One woman who’s planning on voting for a Democratic woman is Smith, the Michigan business coach, who said, “Gretchen has my vote big-time.”

“I’m not going to just go vote because all women are running,” she explained. “It takes the right women.”

Other Michigan voters echoed her views.

“I think whatever gender that supports the community, that is the gender we should go with, whether woman or man,” Vann Glover told me as she shopped at Detroit’s outdoor Eastern Market on October 20.

“But it’s always good to see a woman take the job,” she added. “I think we’re a little more sensitive to people and their needs.”

A loyal Democrat, Glover said she planned to support Whitmer in November.

Jeanne Royal, meanwhile, was still doing her research for the midterm election, she told me at Eastern Market. But she was planning to vote this year for the first time ever.

“I used to have a view that my vote doesn’t matter. But I see how a couple little votes didn’t matter and we got stuck with — you know,” she said, laughing.

Royal was excited to see a potential “year of the woman” this year.

“I like that, that’s awesome,” she told me, pumping her fist in approval. “Women have been oppressed throughout civilization,” she said. “It’s good to see that my species is rising.”

In the wake of the 2016 election, some analysts assumed that beating Republicans would require copying Trump’s appeal to white working-class masculinity. But Trump didn’t just run as a macho man. He also ran as a change candidate — a business executive and TV star who pledged to “drain the swamp” in Washington. Two years later, the candidates best placed to run on change may be not men, but women.

It’s not just women who think so. McMorrow said one male voter recently told her, “I voted for Trump because he’s different, and I’m going to vote for you because you’re different.”

Hillary Clinton failed to carry Michigan for a number of reasons, some of them unknowable. There was a decades-long history of sexist news coverage that helped convince American voters she was “unlikeable.” There were her own admitted shortcomings as a politician. There was her failure to spend much time in the state in the general election campaign.

But Clinton, despite her historic status as the first woman major-party nominee, also looked to many voters like business as usual — the wife of a former president, she struggled to win over those who opposed his policies. And when Trump was caught on tape bragging about his ability to grab women “by the pussy,” he was able to bring up Bill Clinton’s allegations of sexual assault, even bringing some of Clinton’s accusers to a debate.

Whitmer has made her career in state government and is familiar to many voters. Still, she, McMorrow, and Manoogian likely represent more of a departure than Clinton ever could — especially now, when women are watching the fallout from Trump’s election.

This year, Dittmar said, “You’re seeing women say, I can’t afford to sit on the sidelines because of what is happening in politics.” That’s a different environment than the one that prevailed in 2016 — and it might produce a different result.

Whitmer, McMorrow, Manoogian and others aren’t campaigning solely on their gender, or on opposition to Trump, or on #MeToo. But they are campaigning on offering voters something different than what’s gone before.

Mari Manoogian at her campaign headquarters on October 19, 2018. Anna North/Vox

“When I think about Mallory or I think about this phenomenal ticket that’s come together,” Whitmer told me, “we all got here not because we had this master plan, but because we were tired of the status quo.”

“We all came from different directions,” she said, “but I think the similarities are, we grit our teeth and do the work.”

Original Source -> Trump won the Rust Belt with macho. These women hope to win with change.

via The Conservative Brief

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A Facebook executive’s Kavanaugh support is a slap in the face to wives | Arwa Mahdawi

Joel Kaplans existence at Senate listening is another be pointed out that the stronger people and institutions in the two countries dont are of interest to women and survivors

The Week in Patriarchy is a weekly roundup of what’s happening in countries around the world of feminism and sexism. If you’re not already received so far by email, make sure to subscribe .

Facebook and Kavanaugh: a accord acquired in hell

Poor age-old Mark Zuckerberg, all he ever wanted to time was connect parties. He never wanted to get involved in politics or force polls, he’s told us so a million times. Regrettably this memo doesn’t seem to have gotten through to Joel Kaplan, Facebook’s vice-president of global our policies, who has inserted himself into the centre of the Brett Kavanaugh controversy.

Kaplan, a close, personal acquaintance of Kavanaugh’s, set behind the evaluate during his recent hearings before the Senate judiciary committee. The Facebook executive’s spirit reportedly came as a surprise to employees, and some took it as an unofficial companionship endorsement of Kavanaugh. The incident has caused enough disagreement that a company town hall was called on Friday to address internal concerns.

A friend substantiating a sidekick wouldn’t commonly be a big deal. However, one might imagine that if you were Facebook’s vice-president of global public policy and your friend’s supreme court of the united states nomination and sexual abuse accusations are subdividing the country, you are able to think twice about publicly flaunting your aid. You might think about what sort of content that would send to your colleagues and employees- not to mention the 2 billion people who use your social network.

The last-place few weeks have been a slap in the face for sexual assault survivors and women. While Dr Christine Blasey Ford has been lampooned including the president, Kavanaugh has enjoyed the enthusiastic aid of organisation organizations like the Wall Street Journal, which recently established the adjudicator an op-ed so could he reiterate what a great” son, spouse and papa” he is. Kaplan’s public support for Kavanaugh is yet another signal to sexual assault survivors and women that the stronger people and institutions in the two countries don’t care about them. While Kaplan may not have attended the hearing as an official Facebook representative he is, let’s reiterate this again, their vice-president of world our policies. Something to think about, perhaps, if you’re still weighing up whether you ought to delete your account.

Kavanaugh’s yearbook offers insight into the system that generated him

While the events of the last few weeks have not established with certainty that Kavanaugh is responsible for the sex offense he is accused of, they have left little doubt he is an entitled, odious human being. To be fair, this isn’t wholly his faulting; he’s the product of a organisation in which privilege buys you the right to act precisely as you like, without horror of repercussions. His Georgetown Prep yearbook, for example, which has been uploaded to the internet, hints the elite prep school sanctioned unspeakable behaviour. Boys were allowed to include quotes such as :~ ATAGEND” I don’t want her you are able to have her, she’s too flab for me” or” Having a beer belly in your elderly time is a status badge “. They were allowed to boast about their membership of something “ve called the” Ridge Klux Klan. They seem to have been allowed, in short, to do whatever they liked.

Nobel peace prize gifted to activists against sexual violence

The 2018 Nobel quietnes trophy has been collectively awarded to Denis Mukwege, a Congolese gynecologist who has treated millions of rape victims, and Nadia Murad, an Iraqi Yazidi sold into fornication slavery by the Islamic State. The duet won the prestigious gift for their” efforts to end the use of forms of sexual violence as a weapon of battle “.

Smart enough to triumph a Nobel prize winner but not important enough for Wikipedia

This week, Canadian physicist Donna Strickland grew the first maiden to prevail a Nobel prize winner in physics in 55 times. Despite years of pioneering work with lasers, the( mainly male) guardians of Wikipedia didn’t deem Strickland important enough for a home in the user-generated encyclopedia until after her winning. The omission threw some light on Wikipedia’s somewhat dim view of women: merely 17% of entryways dedicated to conspicuous parties are for women.

Good news from down under

Australia has scrapped its tampon taxation. Feminine hygiene makes will no longer command a 10% intake charge. In other news, Australia is likely to become the first country in the world to wipe out cervical cancer, thanks to national vaccination programs.

Feminist podcast of the week

In January, Montana prosecutor Jay Harris threatened to prosecute pregnant women for mistreating pharmaceuticals or alcohol. As was pointed out by the likes of the American Civil Liberties Union( ACLU ), plowing pregnant women differently from other addicts is discriminatory and criminalizing craving is counterproductive. ReWire.News, which focuses on reproduction privileges, looked into the story and found that Native American ladies are already being criminally charged for using drugs while pregnant. It explores this issue in a brand-new podcast, The Breach, which is out now.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/a-facebook-executives-kavanaugh-support-is-a-slap-in-the-face-to-women-arwa-mahdawi/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/179134223902

[funnythingshere0-blog]

Adam Driver 'SNL' Sketches Ranked Worst to First: Matt Damon's Brett Kavanaugh, Pete Davidson's Summer

New Post has been published on https://funnythingshere.xyz/adam-driver-snl-sketches-ranked-worst-to-first-matt-damons-brett-kavanaugh-pete-davidsons-summer/

Adam Driver 'SNL' Sketches Ranked Worst to First: Matt Damon's Brett Kavanaugh, Pete Davidson's Summer

Adam Driver may have been the host of this premiere, but it kind of felt like musical guest Kanye West got way more attention. Not only did he get his usual two musical spots during the show, he even took over the stage for a third performance at the end.

Meanwhile, Driver really only got a few chances to shine throughout the night. He was in a lot of the sketches, but he was subdued in most of them. His “Career Day” appearance was easily his most over-the-top and it showed how much he’s willing to throw himself into these characters. It was both ridiculous and hilarious.

Kanye was joined by Lil Pump for “I Love It,” but they skipped the boxy suits for bottled water costumes instead. If you thought this song barely worked as a music video, Kanye was basically saying, ‘Here hold my water’ with this performance. It worked much better when he premiered new song “We Got Love” with Teyana Taylor jumping all around the stage. They sounded stronger and the song held together much better.

For a season premiere, many of the sketches felt half-baked, as if they hadn’t quite come together fully, which is crazy. Last season, weeks that allowed this group more than one week to come up with the show were some of their strongest outings, but that just wasn’t the case here. We did enjoy Pete Davidson talking about what he did over the summer.

And we got some sneak peeks into the camaraderie of the cast behind the scenes, which is always fun. They also introduced new featured player Ego Nwodim, but she did virtually nothing this week. We’ll keep an eye on her to see how she grows throughout the season and hopefully finds her voice.

As usual, we’re ranking all the sketches from worst to first, including the Cold Open and the regular “Weekend Update” segments. We’ll skip the musical guests, because they’re not usually funny – unless Ashlee Simpson shows up. We wrap up with a look at the cast-member who had the strongest week.

MONOLOGUE – Adam Driver

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“One huge spoiler about ‘Star Wars’–” Adam Driver said, before getting interrupted by Beck Bennett, who wanted to talk about his summer. That was essentially the thrust of his monologue, the entire cast wanting to gab about their summer and Adam really hating small talk.He suffered through Kenan Thompson and Aidy Bryant, but when Pete Davidson came out, Pete wasn’t interested in sharing. “No, you’re the one person who’s summer I really want to hear about,” Adam said. But that was the end. It wasn’t hugely hilarious, but it was kind of fun watching Adam sear burning hatred into Kenan, who did his classic “Kenan face” in response.

Vermont

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Beck Bennett proposes white people leave and form their own nation, but Adam Driver says there already is a place like that: Vermont. And then the whole sketch just described “white paradise” and how much it looked like Vermont. It never got to be too much or too funny or too silly or even a little over-the-top. It was just white supremacists thinking Vermont sounds really nice. We can’t imagine Vermont loving the sketch, but otherwise it was disappointingly bland.

Fortnite

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We suppose it was inevitable considering how insanely popular it is, but “SNL” went all in on this “Fortnite” sketch. They had Kyle Mooney, Pete Davidson and Adam Driver as players, but we didn’t expect them to bring the characters to life, too, with Mikey Day as Driver’s character, and Chris Redd and Heidi Gardner rounding out the digital cast. Adam played a middle-aged father who’d never played the game before, so that was it. Mikey mimicked the ridiculous things Adam was making him do, while the other guys got irritated until they all died. But at that point, it was a mercy killing. The sketch could have been funny or had a fun twist, but it had that one visual joke and nothing else.

Rad Times at Frat U

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So that was a weird one. A pre-taped sketch of an 80s frat party with constant freezes to drop notes on the screen about what happened to the people after; none of it good. From the innocent, like a guy who was excited to see girls now being married to a man, to the more serious — though never going so far as assault beyond a forced kiss. We thought the sketch was going somewhere with all of this, but it never really did. Clearly a reference to Kavanaugh’s partying days, but it didn’t skate the edge to drive home any sort of point.

Pete Davidson’s Shadow

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If it wasn’t intentional that announcer Darrell Hammond didn’t even say Kyle Mooney’s name during the opening credits, it fed perfectly into this early-show sketch about his insecurities. After Pete Davidson got engaged to Ariana Grande, Kyle Mooney realized he might never get the recognition he so desperately craves on the show in one of his pre-taped introspective videos. These are always weird and funny and awkward, but it’s where we got the sordid saga of his long romance with Leslie Jones, too, so we’re here for it. This time, he decided to solve his invisibility problem by becoming Pete, complete with blonde hair and slacker attitude. But rather than get a pop star to date, he brought out the real Wendy Williams as his girlfriend, complete with a pig. We also got an inside look at how “SNL” handles internal problems, and it is medieval and not pretty.

Weekend Update

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“If you’re drinking a bunch and you keep a calendar, it’s probably to help piece together what’s happening in your life,” Colin Jost said, as he and Michael Che went in on Kavanaugh’s blustery and angry hearing responses, though we don’t think Michael’s “might be” argument quite holds water.

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They saved a few moments to get into some of the other terrifying news of the summer, like that new and absolutely horrifying mascot for the Philadelphia Flyers. Who approved this monstrosity?

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Kate McKinnon then dropped by as Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg to comment and fire off some Gins-burns at everyone from Kavanaugh to Republican Senator Jeff Flake, who pushed for an FBI investigation to, as she sees it, protect his ass before he votes yes anyway.

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Out of nowhere, Leslie Jones interrupted as Serena Williams, despite the bit being cut. This kind of banter always helps to bring us deeper into the world of “SNL,” helping us connect to the cast-members behind the characters, and we are here for them. Plus, she did look great.

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Finally, and we all knew it was coming, Pete Davidson dropped by to finally answer the question Adam Driver wanted in the “Cold Open.” How did he spend his summer vacation? Well, we all know the details, but he said he hates all the attention. “It’s Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr. and Pete Davidson. All people who’ve gotten death threats,” he said. When asked about the prenup situation, Pete said he wanted one. “God forbid we break up and she takes half my sneakers.” He then joked he swapped her birth control for Tic-Tacs. “I believe in us and all,” he said. “I just want to make sure she cant go anywhere.”

COLD OPEN – Kavanaugh Hearing

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With no sign of Alec Baldwin’s Trump, we instead got a fresh and energetic exploration of the Kavanaugh hearing, with Matt Damon absolutely killing it as the Supreme Court nominee. “”I’m gonna start at an 11 and I’m gonna take it to a 15 real quick!” he shouted, setting the stage for alternating anger and tears as he cited Kathy Griffin and Ronan “Sinatra” as part of the left-wing conspiracy against him. The Senators were played by a who’s who of the cast (including Rachel Dratch), with Kate McKinnon coming unhinged as Sen. Lindsey Graham, though we’re not sure she has a completely successful take on him yet. It went a little long, but every time Damon was glowering on-screen, we realized we could take just a little bit more. If Kavanaugh is going to stay in the news cycle, here’s hoping Matt is game to keep playing him.

Career Day

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Pete Davidson’s 82-year-old father, played by Adam Driver, brings the fire as an oil baron who crushes his enemy and grinds their bones into the dirt. Turns out the other kids think he’s a lot cooler than either Pete or the teacher (Aidy Bryant). This was absolutely bizarre, but Adam was so committed to his ridiculous, screaming character that we found ourselves as unable to hold it together as Pete and some of the other students. This recurring sketch has always been hit or miss, but when your “parent” character is this ridiculous and played this well, it’s always going to work.

Coffee Taste Test

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We’ve seen this before, where Mikey Day surprises taste-test participants with a product that isn’t nearly as fancy as they think. This time, it was Burger King coffee, and this time it was Adam Driver and Cecily Strong who got to lose their s–t over it. “You fed my wife this garbage, this burger juice?” Adam shouted incensed, while Cecily kept insisting hers must be the fancy coffee. We’re not sure why these are always funny, but it’s how worked up one couple always gets over being fooled, and Cecily was hilariously clueless throughout.

PLAYER OF THE WEEK

Pete Davidson may have been the most anticipated cast-member in this premiere, if just to hear him make jokes about Ariana Grande, and he did not disappoint, but he didn’t really shine beyond his “Weeked Update” appearance. Remarkably, no single cast-member stepped up in a huge way in this very balanced episode.

So we’re going to give it to the cast-member who sold their spotlight sketch the strongest, which narrows it down to Kyle Mooney and Cecily Strong, with the edge going to Cecily for her ridiculously clueless coffee taster. Yes, we know Kate McKinnon gave us Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Lindsey Graham, but we didn’t love her Graham as much as other characters she’s done.

“Saturday Night Live” continues next week with host Awkwafina and musical guest Travis Scott, Saturday at 11:35 p.m. et on NBC.

Got a story or a tip for us? Email TooFab editors at tips@toofab.com.

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