#like as if it's the worst thing ever to be a woman at the same time a manwoman is

[spacerockfloater]

Cassian had been eating an early breakfast with them this morning when Rhys had gotten the bill for Nesta’s night out. When Rhys had read each item aloud. Bottles of rare wine, exotic foods, gambling debts …

Oh, do shut the fuck up people. You’re acting as if Nesta requested three muscled, naked, oiled up, male sex workers come to her table and feed her whipped cream with their dicks. She ordered fucking food and drinks for fuck’s sake. The horror! You’re building a fifth mansion, you can afford to pick up the tab you cunts, especially after she fought your fucking war for you. Boo fucking hoo.

Feyre had stared at her plate until silent tears dripped into her scrambled eggs.

Now, what the actual fuck is this grown ass woman crying about? Bitch, pull your melodramatic self together. You’re acting as if Nesta made the front page of the local newspaper for being a serial killer. Calm the fuck down. Your husband is reading you a fucking bar’s bill, for crying out loud. A private bill, that was available only for you to see, until your toddler of a partner decided to let everyone know about it. Like, the only acceptable reason for you to shed a tear is realising you’re shackled to this piece of shit for eternity.

Cassian knew there’d been previous conversations—fights—about Nesta. About whether to give her time to heal herself, as they’d all believed would happen at first, or to step in. But as Feyre wept at the table, he knew it was a breaking of some sort. An acceptance of a hope failed.

Yes, because we all know that the only two ways of helping a traumatised person are either leaving them completely alone with their self destructive tendencies and excluding them from our lives (not a single painting of Nesta in Feyre’s home, pity job offers from Rhys, just superficial attempts of Feyre inviting Nesta to witness her perfect new life and house but no true attempts at connecting with her) or stripping them off of every bit freedom and forcing them to do unpaid physical labour. Now every hope is obviously lost!

It had required all of Cassian’s training, every horror he’d endured on and off the battlefield, to keep that same crushing sorrow from his own face.

Cassian, for the millionth time, I hope someone throws your hypocritical ass in a deep fryer as soon as possible. Looking forward to Elain’s prophecy coming true.

Rhys had laid a comforting hand on Feyre’s, squeezing gently before he looked at Azriel, and then Cassian, and laid out his plan. As if he’d had it waiting a long, long while.

Rhysand, you sly, manipulative snake, you. You never fail to disgust me. Aiming to break your own fucking wife apart so that she, in her vulnerability, goes along with your pre-prepared schemes, while simultaneously acting as if you’re her shoulder to cry on when you’re in fact the reason she’s crying, is actually nauseating. And I thought Tamlin was the beast! Rhysand is the worst thing that ever happened to Feyre. At the very best, they deserve each other. And that’s me being generous.

[flight0fthenavigat0r]

A Goodbye to The Bad Batch

I don’t even know what to say first. Because this is goodbye, but it is also everything but. But I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Just a couple of years ago I found my love for Star Wars. My entire life, as far back as I can remember, my dad has tried to get me into the fandom. Now, he’s not a fan the exact same way some of us are, he’d only watched the saga and the Mandalorian, funnily enough I was the one to introduce him to The Clone Wars and beyond, but it’s been a joy in his life for a very long time. I was never interested in it when I was little, but then I got a little older and Star Wars started to capture my interest.

One random weekend, I believe in 2021 or 2022, I decided that I was going to watch all nine saga movies in those forty-eight hours, and then start on my goal to watch every show and the additional movies.

This is, without a shred of doubt, one of the greatest decisions I have ever made, and one that I will never regret. I would not be the person I am had I not given Star Wars a chance.

It would sound ridiculous to anyone anywhere else, but this has become such a safe place for me that I know I can be honest.

Everyone finds that one thing that makes them happy like nothing else. A person, a hobby, a place, a fandom. Mine is the galaxy far, far away that lets me escape from my life whenever I need to.

The Star Wars fandom has its faults, and there is so much hatred.

But more than anything, there is love like no love I have ever experienced before. The love between fans and our love for these movies and shows is something I never expected to have in my life. But somehow, for some reason, it has all found a permanent place in my heart, and I couldn’t be happier.

At this time, the first season of The Bad Batch had just been released. I was branching out, watching The Clone Wars and then jumping to The Book of Boba Fett, though I’m not sure why I chose to watch everything in such a completely random order.

But then I started The Bad Batch.

I had no idea what Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, and Omega would come to mean to me.

I have dealt with a lot in the last few years. Nothing compared to others, but depression finds a way to wedge into your life. I love to be alone, but I don’t like to be lonely, and I have managed to isolate myself to a point of misery.

I found more comfort in The Bad Batch than anything else in my life, and I will never forget the joy The Bad Batch brought me in these last few years.

I began to write when I found Star Wars, and I was inspired to do so by The Bad Batch. Before, I had never felt so compelled by any one piece of media to add my own part of it to the world, until this. Writing has become another escape, one that gives me an outlet to continue the stories of characters left behind.

What I already knew has been reaffirmed, the lessons I have learned remain with me, and will even after this is over.

That it’s okay to feel afraid, because everyone does, and to make mistakes, provided you learn from them.

That feeling out of place for one reason or another does not make you unworthy of love, and having limitations with affection isn’t something you need to apologize for.

That being goofy, having fun, finding joy in the dark places, is just as vital a part of life as anything else, if not what we need more than anything.

That taking time for yourself, to make sure you don’t fall apart, even while taking care of others, is important.

That our worst moments can be one of two things, what consumes us, or what we grow from.

That being a young woman is not a detriment to your worth, intelligence, talent, or any other aspect of life, but is in fact what makes you strongest.

That what makes us unique and our faults are a part of who we are, but they do not define us, and we are so much more than the ideas people have of us.

My only regret is not making friends when I had the chance. I’m bad at that, opening up and putting myself out there, and I shy away from talking to new people because it makes me uncomfortable. But I wish I had been able to put that aside before it was too late and found people who love The Bad Batch the way I do to continue talking to, even after the show ends.

But to all the people who have supported me and who I have supported, thank you for being part of my Bad Batch experience.

It's very difficult to believe that this is it.

Though The Bad Batch has not been around long, it feels like it has, because as long as I have been watching Star Wars, The Bad Batch has been in its active run, and I’m so grateful I got to be here when it was.

I know that even when the credits roll for the final time, when the greater fandom forgets the show that they never really understood the way we have, I’ll be here, and hopefully, so will all of you. I think that the family brought together by The Bad Batch will endure, even if we go quiet for a while.

We’ll stick around, for the day the Batch comes back. Because I know they will.

Thank you Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch fandom, Dee Bradley Baker, Michelle Ang, the Kiners, and everybody who played a part in telling this story.

The impact The Bad Batch has had on my life has been profound, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s been a wild ride, and I have enjoyed every second of it. It has been a privilege to be a part of this piece in the ever growing history that makes up Star Wars.

Goodbye, Bad Batch. Until next time.

“Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.”

[stinkykitty8]

My beatiful boy Hanz

(Hanz belongs to me!!! Everything else credits to Gatobob!!!)

WARNING

This post contains very heavy topics, nsfw, r@pe, 18+ stuff, and overall just not very good things. Do not read if you are sensitive to these things.

Read warnings before pressing more please!!!

Hanz was conceived through rape. After Ren ran off Strade tried to find a replacement for him. The replacement being a very beatiful woman and yet another victim to Strade's doings. Unlike Ren, Strade never let her roam free to make sure she doesn't escape the same way Ren did. Instead she was locked in the basement 24/7 shackled and collared and checked daily to make sure nothing was lose or she tried breaking off. Thats where she stayed the entire time being with Strade as he abused, tortured, and r@ped her. And through all of this she had fallen pregnant which wasnt surprising. Strade was actually expecting it to happen. Strade decided to go along with it and make her have the baby. Almost like he wanted a kid. Shortly after Hanz was born Strade really didnt see any other use for Hanz's mom so he ended up killing her and burning her body to ash. The ash is currently burried in his back yard. Hanz will never find out what happened to his mom and if ever asked Strade would never say, change the subject, or just shrug it off and laugh. Hanz was a little spoiled rich kid growing up. He was sent with 20 bucks ince for snacks at school and hes seen as a rich boy. Strade never hit him once (even though he needs it) and the worst he probably did was just yell but that was it. Strade didnt really care when he got phone calls from school because of Hanz's behavior. If anything he found it funny and encouraged it as long as he didnt go to far to be kicked out. He especially found it funny when it came to messing with Yoki. After the first day of school strades interest was peaked after Hanz mentioned a certain orange tail and ear having freak from school. And after finding out that little beast belonged to Ren he just encouraged Hanz to fuck with her more. Basically using him to get to Ren. Although Strade never physically abused Hanz he mentally abused him without Hanz really even realizing or noticing. He raised Hanz "like a man" so most times it was just him telling hanz to suck it up or trying to make him have the mindset to act like a man and not give a fuck about much else. It made Hanz really treat women horribly at that time and even the smallest things like a dude having something pink he would call them gay. Even refused to hold a purse because 'it was to gay'.

Hanz was always seen as the tough kid in school, always threatening to beat kids asses or threatening them that his dad would take legal action if they hurt him. He was all bark no bite though. When put in an actual situation like fighting he would fold and pussy out. He got into a fight once with Yoki and she left without a scratch and he left with cuts and bites that later got infected. Strade was pissed, not because Yoki hurt hanz, but because she hurt his blood. And it was almost seen as a disgrace to him and would tell Hanz how disappointed he was. Hanz always tries to be perfect and make his father proud so of course he apologizes because he thinks he didnt do enough especially for that. Hanz would do anything to make his father proud even doing things out of his comfort zone.

Strade always kept a thick padlock on the basement door and because of the sound proofing nothing was ever heard down bellow. Hanz always thought he just wasnt allowed down because thats where Strade worked and it probably had a lot of tools or objects Hanz woukd hurt himself with. One day Hanz got a little to nosey and decided to explore the basement after Strade left to the store but strade forgot his keys and came back to see the basement door open and Hanz nowhere to be found. What Hanz saw down into the basement changed his entire view of life and his entire perspective of his father. He probably saw some very badly tortured woman tied to a pole bleeding and begging Hanz for help. Of course any young child would be horrified of this even though Hanz says he could take things like that. And so when trying to leave the basement strade was standing there up top glaring at him. Strade locked the basement door with Hanz in it and left Hanz in the basement overnight. Even though Hanz was kicking, hitting, and screaming at the door repeatedly apologizing, Strade did not allow him out until the morning. Even mocking hanz saying things like "I thought you were a man why are you crying?" Even though he was about only 12. Hanz learned very quickly not to snoop around again. After that he was very quiet at school and stayed to himself. Messing with people seemed to stop and he even went so far as to give shitty apologies to the kids he fucked with. He couldn't tell anyone what he saw or and learned so he kept it a secret and "maned up" like his father said. The strong live and the weak die. He pushed that mindset on Hanz so much he believed it and began thinking Strade was doing good by just getting rid of the weak and cleaning the world. Over time Hanz was forced to help with streaming until it was basically his new job. But over time it got a little easier for him since it became a normal thing, even though he still had an ick for it. But he had to do it to make his dad proud.

Over time he ended up starting to form a semi relationship with Yoki. Nothing serious. He never really knew much about Ren either at thay time until snooping on the web and checking out some of Strades older streams and seeing Ren in them. Of course recognizing it was Yoki's father he told Yoki about it and she just couldn't believe it until she saw it and then it brought out into a small fight that was settled. Hanz had always tried to be seen as some big hotshot badass but deep down hes really just a big softie. Especially when hes older. Hes still a prick sometimes but not to Yoki or Basil anymore. Hanz is absolutely majestic. Overall just being a better version of Strade looks and health wise (Strade doesn't understand why hes so good). Unlike Yoki he actually has his own credit card and him and Strade split the cash they make on streams.

IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS ASK!!! :3

(Hopefully this all makes sense XP)

[anthurak]

Okay so, I feel like some people need to think about WHY Summer would be working for Salem, because a lot of them tend to forget that whatever sacrifice Summer made that kept her from coming home was one she INSTANTLY regretted, was NOT planning to make when she left, and one that had consequences for Ruby she did NOT foresee.

Given that this song is the source of Summer's leitmotif, it SURE would be weird if they made Summer Rose a mustache-twirling supervillain who hates her daughters and wants to be rid of them, wouldn't it?

So while I would not be surprised if Summer's been enslaved by Salem and is being forced to do her bidding, I highly doubt she willingly or knowingly threw her own children under the bus to do so, as some people are suggesting she did (typically to try and make Raven look better).

The annoying bit is that I feel like any 'backlash' against Summer is a pretty typical case of a fandom spending years propping up a character as the greatest, most perfectist, unproblematic cinnamon roll possible, and then the moment that character is given any sort of serious flaw, suddenly they're the most terrible-terrible bad-bad person ever.

Sorry, did I say 'character'? I meant to say girl/woman. If it's a dude, they just ignore/deny said flaws til the heat-death of the universe. Just keep an eye on the reaction to when the story gives us the same rug-pull for Tai it did for Ozpin, Qrow and Ironwood...

Anyway, yeah I'm in full agreement with you on this one. Assuming that Summer isn't full-on brainwashed and/or puppeted by Salem, then we're definitely looking at a Darth Vader-esque situation wherein Summer has been utterly broken by Salem. Via a combination of her mysterious plan to stop Salem utterly failing, years of torture and hybrid experiments, plus a healthy dose of 'would you like to hear all the things Oz was lying to you about? Somehow it's MORE than 'everything'.'

More specifically, broken in a way that emphasizes Summer being a foil to Ruby. As in, showing the worst possible end that Ruby's self-destructive hero-complex could ultimately take her. Followed by Ruby not only finding a 'better way', but then along with Yang, saving their mother from this fate as well.

[dark-elf-writes]

Master of death Harry at UA who accidentally summons Oboro’s ghost and doesn’t get why Shota and Hizashi are crying but doesn’t say anything as they cry

I read this as MoD Harry as a student doing this which makes this funnier and also more heartbreaking.

Like Harry leaving after the battle and needing to do something different, something that doesn’t involve a castle of ghosts and the memory of blood on his hands and screams in his ears, he ends up, through a letter sent to him at exactly the right moment courtesy of Nezu (and how he managed to get a letter delivered to an unplayable address Harry isn’t sure he wants to know), as the oldest member of 1-A.

He doesn’t really know what to claim as a quirk because his magic is fucked and telling people is illegal but then he summons a ghost (the previous tenant of his apartment who had a heart attack and Merlin he is going to have words with his realtor) literally the night before and decides “Necromancer” is close enough. Besides the dead flock to him now (had they always?) whether he wants them to or not, it’s only fair that he gets something out of it other than a terrible sleep schedule and the world’s first anti-ghost ward outside his bathroom.

And UA has no shortage of ghosts. Students, alumni, and former teachers alike follow Harry’s every step from the moment he enters the gates a day before everyone else (for a meeting with his new teachers to “see where he places due to his unique circumstances” which sounded like kind way to say “we know you have a year four education in non magical subjects”) but one in particular shoos the others away with a smile and whisper of… something herding them off. He doesn’t fully manifest, invisible to everyone but Harry, as he follows his steps.

“Hey, kid, you’re the transfer right?”

If Harry was less used to ghosts he would be a little offended about being called “kid” by someone who looked the same age as him, but Ghosts were frozen as how they were when they died. For better or worse.

At least when around Harry they didn’t show their death wounds. Instead appearing whole and unblemished.

The meeting room was full when Harry entered, the ghost at his shoulder, and he fought the urge to check for exits. He didn’t need a window to get away with his magic, didn’t think any of the people here were strong enough to stop him if he wanted to leave, quirks or no, not since he had collected the hallows and everything changed.

“Er, hello.”

Well, maybe not everything changed.

Several of the teachers smile, one with the most ridiculous hairstyle he has ever seen beaming particularly brightly, but it was Nezu that drew his eye.

Nezu who smiled at him and gestured to where a steaming cup of tea waited at the empty space on the table. “Potter-kun. How lovely it is to meet you in person.”

Harry had barely made it to table when he felt the familiar yank of his power slipping the leash — less common now but always at the worst moments — and a moment later the ghost still following him gasped as color flooded him.

Huh. His hair was blue. Teddy would like that.

The blond teacher stood so quickly their chair flipped behind them followed by two others wide eyed and disbelieving as they stared at the ghost. The ghost who watched them with eyes just as wide, wiggling his fingers and gasping when their eyes followed the movement.

“You can see me?!”

Harry froze, not daring to breathe. Fuck this was bad, but the question was how bad.

Then one of the teachers, the woman who Harry was very careful to not look below her shoulders, sobbed.

Right… this was… not a great way to start a new school. “Traumatize your professors” was usually a term four activity for him not before school had officially started. Still it couldn’t hurt to let them talk for a while. He could always send the ghost away if things went south… probably… maybe… eventually.

Harry sank into his seat and drained his tea in one long swallow. This was going to be along day.

[damned-punk]

What You Won’t Ever Find (Kidd x Reader)

Part Eight

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Content Warning: nsfw, modern!AU, suggestive language, unhealthy attachment, angst

Content Description: gn!reader meets Kidd in a bar and their relationship develops from there ♡

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Killer had to work the next day which was why he hadn’t attended the party and while you hated to bother him so late in the evening, you needed to know that Kidd was safe. He answered after a few rings but to your dismay, Kidd hadn’t come home and Killer hadn’t heard from him since he left hours earlier. None of it made any sense, he’d never done something quite like this before and it seemed so strange. Killer reassured you that while he was likely fine, he’d do what he could to locate him and that you should try calling him in the morning. He knew Kidd better than anyone and the fact that he’d told you to trying talking to him later didn’t sit right with you.

Did Killer know something you didn’t? You ran through every scenario of the evening but not even the slightest thing gave way as to why Kidd had disappeared. You’d already been waiting for him to return for just over an hour and since Killer didn’t seem too worried about it, you decided to just go home for the evening. You’d be lying to yourself if you said his actions weren’t hurtful, perhaps there was an unforeseen reason? Nevertheless, you tossed and turned until finally succumbing to sleep sometime in the early morning hours. The first thing you did when you woke up was dial his number. It rang for a little longer than you’d hoped and just as disappointment flared, your call was answered.

“Hello? Who the fuck is it?”, a voice you did not recognize asked, high pitched but groggy from being woken up.

“Who is this?”, you asked, doing what you could to maintain your composure, “Where is Kidd?”

“Still asleep, care to leave a message?”, the unknown person prompted with attitude.

“Are you at his house?”, you asked, ignoring the snarky tone the person had assumed.

“Yeah, I think so.”, they replied as your anger boiled over.

You immediately hung up and pulled yourself together as quickly as possible. Whatever was going on, you needed to see it for yourself. You fought against what would be the worst case scenario, attempting to rationalize that the person could be a friend of his that you just hadn’t met yet. Alternatively, you couldn’t shake the reality that the person could’ve been at the party last night and caught him alone after your heated exchange. You wanted to think that he wouldn’t go as far as to sleep with someone behind your back, but you weren’t sure of anything anymore. The fact that he’d left at all was enough of a problem in itself, made worse by the addition of his unknown accomplice.

And if he had slept with someone else, was it really feasible to be upset? No matter how often you saw each other or how much your time together meant, neither of you had given your situation a title. You didn’t want to overwhelm or press him to move too fast after he’d opened up about his continuous struggle with emotions, but you also couldn’t ignore the intense nausea that came from imagining him with someone else the same way he was with you. As you started pulling into his driveway, relief washed over you when you noticed his car was parked in its usual spot.

That relief was quickly eradicated because just as you stepped out to knock on the door, it swung open to reveal a shirtless Kidd and woman you’d never seen before. She wore a shirt that was very oversized, one that was eerily similar to those you’d borrowed from him. Several deep purple hickeys littered her neck, obviously created within the very recent past. They were talking and laughing far too merrily for your taste, all of it coming to a halt when their eyes fell upon you. Kidd froze in his tracks and felt like he’d been punched in the gut, he could do nothing but watch your eyes begin to water. The woman made her way to his car, slipping directly past you and into his passenger seat where you’d once sat not so long ago as the two of you got to know each other.

Your heart was pounding alarmingly hard and a deafening ringing sounded in your ears, the accumulation of stress and hurt was working against your ability to remain calm. You didn’t want to seem weak and you certainly didn’t want them to see you break down, but something had finally snapped. He’d made a couple mistakes during the several months that you’d been seeing each other, but this was something of an entirely different magnitude. Your face was so hot that you could barely feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, the only indication of your emotions was the shaking of your chest between deeply strained breaths. Kidd didn’t know what to do, he felt like the idea of even trying to begin to explaining himself was off the table which in turn caused his own rage to manifest. It wasn’t what it had looked like, at least not as far as he was concerned, he’d hoped to be able to send the girl on her way and blame his absence on the innumerable drinks he took in stride with his friends.

“What the fuck?”, you asked in defeat, the crackling of your voice serving to substantiate his surmounting guilt, “What the hell have we even been doing all this time?”

You weren’t sure if you were asking him or yourself, all you could really be certain of was the overwhelming feeling of humiliation. So much time and commitment felt like it’d been wasted but even more so than the loss, you felt stupid for thinking someone like him would ever take someone like you seriously. Even as he stood before you, clenching his fists and becoming consumed by wrath with each surmounting second, you mourned the person that you’d hoped he was. Kidd could be good, it was something that you’d experienced many times before and it was great, but it seemed that something like this was an inevitable part of being involved with him. Every incline was met with the eventual plummet, no matter how sublime things had been previously.

“(Y/N), I fucked up and we both know that.”, he said through gritted teeth, his breaths impossibly heavy, “I need some time to think… I don’t even know how to begin to explain this shit.”

“Did any of this mean anything to you?”, your voice raised involuntarily, “We talked about some really serious and personal things, Kidd. You know things about me that no one else has ever cared to know… This is making me fucking sick, I don’t understand why you’re like this.”

You knew you were spilling your innermost thoughts, but the situation was so turbulent that there was no chance in hell you could stop yourself. Grief and its many forms were sinking their teeth into the tattered remains of your pride, working to irritate what was already an open wound. You brought your hands to your face to cover your mouth as tears turned to full-on sobs. Kidd couldn’t take the intense feelings pilling on top of him so he relieved his stress the only way he knew how, carrying himself to the nearest tree and laying a heavy fist on its trunk. The sudden display of violence caused you to flinch, you’d never once feared him but the situation was taking a detrimental turn. He felt like a monster as he watched you tremble, this wasn’t what he wanted and was certainly never something he’d intended to happen. He’d told you time and time again that he wasn’t good with these things, this was the reason no one was ever glad to have met him.

“Of course you mean something to me!”, he shouted far too loudly, “If you didn’t, you’d fuckin’ know it! I wouldn’t waste my goddamn time!”

“Kidd, that’s enough! Get your ass inside and calm down!”, Killer scolded as he stepped out of the house to try and act as damage control, “(Y/N) please, I really don’t think it’s what it looks like. He’s got a bad temper, just give him a second.”

You appreciated Killer’s willingness to jump in the flames for his friend, you were happy to know that Kidd had someone like that on his side. If this behavior was usual for him, he’d need someone like Killer when everything inevitably falls apart time and time again. By this point you were becoming numb, your senses were heightened and you’d been feeling everything so intensely that nothing could register as it had before. It felt like you were watching things happen through a screen, unable to feel your lips moving and only hearing what you were saying.

“I think I should just go.”, you took several strides back to your car, “I’m not welcome here anymore.”

Despite walking through your own front door and seeking the comfort of your bed, you couldn’t recall the drive home. You couldn’t remember a time that you’d driven in silence, let alone a time that you couldn’t remember the task of traveling. To say that you were devastated was an understatement. If the woman was just a friend, why hadn’t either of them just come out and said that from the start? In the most rational division of your thoughts, you knew what the likely outcome was, you just couldn’t face it. Those few fatal minutes you’d spent helping Hip were so much more detrimental than either of you could’ve ever imagined. It wasn’t her fault by any stretch of the imagination, all the same her warning seared through the few lingering parts of your self worth.

Whether you’d listened to her then or now, the damage was done. Your feelings for Kidd had bloomed in spite of her warnings and you were finally paying the price. You wished you could say that you hated him but those feelings hadn’t changed in the slightest. He needed to take accountability for his actions and while you weren’t sure if your relationship was even a relationship to begin with anymore, you admittedly yearned for his comfort. He was somehow the disease and the cure, a twisted dichotomy that had been in motion since the first night you’d met. He hurt you then only to talk his way of it, you couldn’t let that happen again.

You could hear your phone’s incessant buzzing from its place on your nightstand, you certainly didn’t have the energy to answer it. You could see Kidd’s name brandished on the screen, not at all prompting you to answer and instead bringing you to tears once more. What was the point if something like this was going to restart your relationship every few weeks? You had a lot of love for him, but it clearly had nowhere to go.

Part Nine

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A/N: Thank you for reading! All characters presented in the story have been caricatured to fit the desired plot devices. Some interactions and situations may read out of character, this is only to progress the story and does not reflect my view of their canon personalities.

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[genderkoolaid]

people will literally be like "why do multigender people need to call themselves mlm/wlw when nblm/nblw are right there 🙄 stop invading our community" literally it's so insanely exorsexist to literally say that only monogender people are allowed to be mlm/wlw, because what? multigender people aren't "really" our genders? we aren't capable of being "real" men and "real" women? because monogender people are so pure and untainted, unlike us, who can't make up our minds? explode.

[kiwikiwiandkiwi]

.

[musical-chick-13]

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[sludgeguzzler]

look i really dont mind having a pre t body with its little biological quirks but i have a limit and the limit is waking up at 4am with immense pain and a puddle of blood on my bed

[yuribalisms]

I hate my gender I hate it I hate my gender this is fucking stupid I hate it I hate it I hate it could I be literally anything fucking else I’m so goddamn sick of this

[urostakako]

my mom is the best person in this household and she is the best person in this whole fucking family and im sick of people acting like its otherwise

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀“WHAT?! SEX BAN?!”

﹅ contains ;; gojo satoru , kento nanami , choso kamo , toji fushiguro , ryomen sukuna , geto suguru

﹅ alt title ;; how long the jjk men can withstand the sex ban

﹅ warnings ;; sorta sub!choso , whiny!choso , toji's part is more explicit than the others , this is my first time writing for some of the character so i'm sorry if i didn't describe them well

GOJO SATORU (3 days)

“are you serious?” gojo groans, slumping forwards. gojo watched in disappointment as you crossed your arms, looking away from him. "you did it so you have to pay." for weeks, you've been trying to tell gojo to separate the colors from the whites while doing laundry. him just wanting to get it over with, he dumped them all in the same load, ruining some of your favorite pieces of clothing.

"baby, please. i won't do it again," he begs, kneeling in front of you. but to no avail, you stood your ground.

it only took him 3 days to convince you to wave your white flag, surrendering to his seduction. "you look good in my shirts." gojo's hands caress your hips as he presses his chest to your back. "i would be in my clothes if you would just listen to me." you huff, "i never said i was disappointed." gojo whispered, his hard-on pressing on your ass.

“please. just drop the ‘sex ban’. i said i was sorry.” his lips make a trail of kisses on your neck. you needed him too. whenever he wasn’t around, you would use your toys, trying to not let gojo know you were sexually needy. but they didn’t work.

RYOMEN SUKUNA (not happening!)

no. just no. it’s funny that you even thought about putting that in motion. sukuna was too desperate for sex but never wanted to admit it.

“no,” he stood above, crossing his arms, making himself seem bigger than you (as if he even needed to do that). “you can’t deprive me of sex, woman.” he grunts. “but i can, kuna. that’s what you fail to realize.” you tut, standing up to walk away.

one of his four arms wraps around your waist, throwing you back on the soft surface. "you're not going through with this." he growls in your ear, crawling go top of you.

how dare you even think such a thing? you were his woman, his twin flame. you were the only person he showed the littlest respect to and you decide to do some foolery like this.

he tugs your shirt over your head, your bra coming next. his rough hands slide over your chest. "such beauty..." he whispers. "i'll make sure you never think of this again.

KENTO NANAMI (it was on accident)

his job was taking him away from you. between being a jujutsu sorcerer and a businessman, he couldn't find time to be a partner for you.

due to the lack of attention you were receiving, you became sexually pent up, having the urge to pleasure yourself at the worst times. the feeling of neglect was creeping up on you. some days, you forgot nanami even lived with you.

"love, i'm home." nanami tugs off his tie, tossing it to the side. "i don't know how long i can take of this." he rubs his temples, deeply sighing as he led himself to your shared bedroom. before his hand touched the cold metal knob, he heard your muffled moans and the squelching of your cunt.

he slowly opens the door, peeking in the room before fully entering. "it seems i've neglected you." he watches as you quickly cover yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked many times. he unbuttons the top of his shirt as he saunters to the edge of the bed, removing the covers off you.

"seems like i have some things to make up for."

CHOSO KAMO (not even a day)

"please." he whines, his head resting on your lap as he looks up at you. ever since you shared your first time with choso, he's been going at it with you like rabid dogs. if he wasn't inside you, his head was squished in between his thighs.

"choso, i need a break." you sigh, trying to remove him from off you. his grip on your legs was tight as he put his face in between your thighs, shaking his head. he was acting like he couldn't survive without your cunt somehow being involved.

"i swear, i'll leave you alone after. just please," he whined. you couldn't resist him for much longer. you hated when he got all whiny like a baby. he was spoiled because of you.

"fine." you undo the tie of your sweatpants before his hands swatted yours away, tugging your pants and panties off. "i promised you." he kisses your inner thigh before his tongue began flicking away.

TOJI FUSHIGURO (mans was balls deep in you the second you said it)

"you really think so?" he darkly chuckles, rubbing himself on you. "toji, i'm sorry. please." you whine, wiggling your ass on his cock. "i don't think you are." he teases, stepping away from you.

you whine, following him. "it was a joke." you press your hand on his chest. "did i laugh?" he tilts his head, smirking at you. you sigh, "toji, i'm sorry." you press yourself against him, your chest touching his.

"fuck." you knew he couldn't resist the feeling of your chest on him. it was like heaven to him. "turn around." he grunts, gripping your hips to turn you around, bending you over.

he easily slid inside of you due to how wet you got over time. "don't say stuff you don't mean, baby." he laughs, thrusting into your backside. it was worth it.

GETO SUGURU (you gave in after implementing it)

you wanted to test geto's limits, giving him an extra nnn moment which made you realize something. it was always you initiating sex. "geto, please. i give up." you whine, following him around the house.

he chuckles, "everyone must deal with their consequences, my love." he turns to you. he plastered a sinister smile, taunting you. he saw how much you needed him but he wasn't caving in until he heard you say it.

"i'll do anything. my hand isn't even working anymore." you simper. it was starting to become frustrating seeing how calm he was about all of this as you were suffering.

"i need you! is that what you wanted to hear?" you shout, earning a grin from him. he walks closer to you, his finger tracing your jawline, "why didn't you say that sooner, love?" he chuckles.

[lauriemarch]

and at the end of the day, people will still hate women.

because beyonce is a terrible songwriter who has a good body and nothing more and she's really nothing compared to olivia rodrigo, that stuck-up bitch who steals other people's music, but taylor swift is an old, bitter nothing who clearly hates other girls. and sabrina carpenter deserves to die because she followed her heart, not her brain, and that's exactly why zendaya will never be good enough for tom holland. don't forget about kylie jenner, who's stealing precious timothee's innocence away and dating her is like committing arthouse cinema suicide, or how we said the same thing about miley cyrus and her disgusting profanity, think of the children, poor liam hemsworth, trapped in a marriage with such a horrible woman. lana del rey was hot until she was big and she made trailerpark sexy until her ass got a little too fat. and ariana grande, talentless homewrecker, and selena gomez, jealous and unreasonable, and hailey bieber, even more boring than the blood drying on the knives you are so quick to pull. sophie turner is a bad mom and megan thee stallion deserved whatever was coming to her.

and amidst all of this, we still don't know these women. we cannot fathom the pain of having a public divorce, one where people choose sides and hurl insults at you until the battery on their phone dies. we don't watch them chase after sweet-cheeked children in tucked-away backyards or play board games with their best friends while their chests heave in laughter. we don't know their marriages and we don't know their solitudes. we don't watch them unravel themselves, time and time again, preparing for the battle that we have made of their lives. they can never make a mistake. they can never cry. they can never be who they believe themselves to be.

and we take all of this and we go to work, we ride the bus, we go grocery shopping, we walk in dappled sunlight, and we let ourselves shrivel. i compare myself to every body i see and i comfort in the fact that i can still encircle my wrists with my fingers. food turns to dust in my mouth when i think about the fact that taylor swift thinks she's fat and people still hate sabrina carpenter for sticking by joshua bassett's side when he almost died, for God's sake, and now the people on my twitter feed are saying GUTS is the worst album they've ever heard. i liked it, the tiny voice in my head cries out. she wrote songs that made me feel noticed. they're calling the song i relate to the most a total skip.

so i close the app. i try not to think about the endless profiles screaming about how much they hate a nineteen/thirty-two/thirty-eight/twenty-three/twenty-six/forty-two year old. i try not to think about how much they would hate me, if they knew anything at all.

[atyourmerci]

♡ Hook, line, and sinker (sub!abby // follower req)

Basketball!abby X nerdy reader

Next chapter

♡ ♡

Summary: Abby is the head captain of your college basketball team, a known player in more ways than one…but you knew her dirty little secret

Warnings: smut, MDNI, porn smidge of plot, sub!abby, top!reader, cunnilingus, fingering if you squint, abby is sub inexperienced, abby is a whiny little sub, author enjoyed thoroughly, no y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: first req!! So thank you for sending it in. Hopefully this will hold y’all off till I can get out a full fic :// (this was supposed to be a drabble and I got carried away oopsies). Psa wrote this at 2am so it’s probably a MESSSS

♡ ♡

She was dangerous force, intimidating just by the sheer sight of her. She was the kind of girl that people walked on the other side of the road when she was coming, afraid of what would happen if she snapped. Hell even the girls on the court would run from her, and not in the way the game was supposed to happen, they just knew she broke bones.

Abby was brutal, she was a hard hit, she was uneasy to break… she was a fucking whiny sub.

No one knew that of course, none of the girls she tossed around like dolls as she rammed into them emotionlessly, it would ruin the reputation she had built, right?

But you knew.

She was embarrassed you ever saw that side of her, but fuck did she need you. Only you could let her beg and plead to let her cum after denying her over and over again. Only you were allowed to see that pretty pink pussy drenched in slick that ran down her muscled thighs. Only you ever made her cum.

The situation she had you in was less than practical. Abby begrudgingly asked for your help in physics since you were undeniably the smartest in the class…oh if she would’ve know the things you’d teach her. 

You weren’t her type, she liked easy girls, the ones that threw themselves at her so she never had to even try, open up to anyone. Some girls had pressed for more, to which she’d move on to the next.

You…you were difficult, hard to read. She was surprised you didn’t use the chance of meeting with her to study to get a good fuck out of her. You were strictly business, even when you couldn’t stop thinking about what she would look like with her legs wrapped around your head.

♡ ♡

That day had started just like the others, abby sprawled out on your tiny dorm bed while you sat neatly across from her, textbooks giving needed separation between the two of you. She always felt the need to dominate every space she took up. If only you could just break her…

“I- I don’t fucking get this. I’m not going to.” Abby says dragging her large hand cross her face. She was usually frustrated when she came to you, but today was the worst you’ve ever seen. She’d leave in a much better place than you had started, but after 3 hours there had been an unusual lack of progress.

“You’re not using your head,” you say growing impatient. You let out a sigh of equal frustration, knowing you’d have to break down the first wall of unspoken territory with her, “what’s wrong with you, you seem off today.”

She returns a scoff back at you, head tilting up to meet your eyes, “I’m fine.”

You shake your head knowingly back at her, “Abby you-“ you begin to protest as she cuts you off defensively, “I said I’m fine. Now are you actually going to teach me? Or would you like to keep interrogating me?”

Your mouth opens in anger. She wants to play this game, let’s play. “Don’t come at me because you were too busy fucking the entire woman’s soccer team last night to be prepared for this midterm.”

“Why the fuck do you care what I do,” she barks back with just the same vengeance.

You laugh at her blatant assumption, “I didn’t say I did.”

“Then why are you breathing down my neck,” she says narrowing her eyes on you, in an almost curious gaze, still laced with anger.

“I just think you should worry about yourself more than making half of Yale’s female population come.”

She returns a breathy laugh, shaking her head turning away from you, “and you don’t think I get off?”

You cross your arms with a testing gaze on the profile of her face, she couldn’t even look at you talking about herself that way. “I know you don’t.”

“And how the hell would you know that.”

“You’re so fucking tense I’m sure you haven’t gotten off in years, can’t even let yourself do it.” You watch as she twists her fingers around themselves nervously, still unable to meet your eyes.

“Y- you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says unsure, barely above a whisper.

Any assumption you had made had been completely checked off now, and you were ready to completely destroy her. Before you could make out a rational thought your hands were at the textbooks in front of you, the separation between you and your weary opponent. You moved everything off onto the desk next to your bed, closing the once necessary gap.

“Come here,” you say as she finally meets your gaze again. “W-what?”

“You heard me, lie down completely,” you demand, and she reluctantly agrees, unsure of her fate.

You make your way to the side of her, brushing your bare knees against her side which causes her to flinch as her fists are closed tightly next to her.

You place a hand on her abdomen first, trying to ignore the chiseled muscle beneath her black tank, “have you been touched here?”

“Yes.”

You then move your hand to the bicep caged around the outline of your legs, she was sure not to make direct contact, “have you been touched here?”

“Yes.”

You move the same hand to her cheek, cupping the sharp line of her jaw, her eyes now drowning in yours, the anger that had held her down now disappearing. “Have you been touched here?”

“Sometimes. N- not often.” Her gaze falters, fluttered down out of your reach at the vulnerability.

Your hand drags down to her neck, this time you let it roam, dragging your fingers across her pulse, “and here?”

“No.”

You click your tongue at her, “shame,” bending down on your knees to scatter slow kisses up the throb in her neck. You feel as she squirms slightly beneath you, “such a sensitive area, really,” you say returning upright, dragging your fingers down to her raised nipple, hardened by your kisses.

“Here?” You lay light circles around the heightened bud as her mouth falls open, quickly closing it with her top teeth on her lip to make sure she doesn’t crack.

She shakes her head rapidly in response, eliciting a giggle from your throat as you move to her other nipple, sure to give it just as much attention.

You let your hand drag down to the seam of her sweats, toying with the exposed skin between her shirt and pants with your fingertips. You watch as her teeth let the grip of her lip go and her head fall back to the ceiling.

The tips of your fingers ease under the sweats over her boxers, inching your way in till your hand cups her mound to which she lets out her first groan of satisfaction “Have you been touched here, Abby?”

“Fuck- no. never.” Her chest rising and falling heavily now, unable to catch her breath.

“You want me to touch you there abby?”

“Please- please touch me there,” her fist that was caged around your bent legs now gripped into your thigh, large hand almost completely engulfing your leg.

“Well since you asked so nicely, take off your pants. Only your pants.” Within seconds she had them down to her ankles, ripping them off and discarding them to the floor. Her hand returned to your thigh, eyes now trained on you.

You moved your hand back to her mound, covered by her black boxers. You began rubbing down to feel how soaked she was, pooling already. You wouldn’t give her much, not yet, only rubbing slow and soft stripes up and down to hear her breathy moans from the stoic woman.

“Does that feel good?” You ask her doe-eyed as she stare’s pathetically up at you, so needy for anything you’d let her have. “Y- yes.”

“Take off your boxers.” With the same enthusiasm she rips them down at your command, returning her gaze back to the ceiling, still embarrassed at her vulnerability but unable to stop herself.

“Open up those legs for me pretty girl,” you say rubbing your palm up her thigh.

“You can’t talk to me like that… I- I’ll come” she breathes out, bucking her hips slightly into the air to no sense of relief.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” you let out a small giggle at her admission, continuing to rub in her inner thigh.

“Y-ou don’t h-ave to- I’m close enough.”

“Awh pretty baby, all from some talking?”

She continues to buck her hips in hopes that your hand will meet her in the middle. “Please touch me before I finish.”

She had been so good, so pliable, so you honored her wish by placing your fingertips to her raised clit, soaked by her arousal. “Oh fuck!” She yelps, raising her hips into your touch, the hand on your thigh digging crescents into your soft flesh.

“So swollen, just for me?”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck- don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” she begins to plead. You know she won’t last much longer. And you had to taste her.

You whip your legs around her backwards to straddle her, getting a perfect view of her sopping wet cunt, pretty pink lips coated in white slick. You lick a fat stripe down her slit, tongue pointing into her leaking entrance to get a taste of her.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck” she begins to babble as you lap at her hole. She moves her wide hands to grasp at your covered ass in search of stabilizing herself.

You return to her swollen bud, immediately sucking it into your mouth, pulsing it systematically as you hold her wavering thighs open.

“I- im- FUCK-“ she begins to shake under you, whimpers flying out of her as she bucks into your mouth, riding out her early orgasm.

She continues to shake as you try to suck every last bit of her climax out of her, letting her revel in her pleasure. You wish you could talk her through it now, but you’re sure she’ll let you do it over and over again.

As cries of overstimulation flood her voice you let off her clit with a pop, eliciting one last whine from her throat. You return next to the half naked brute, right back to where it started.

She hops of the bed and lazily returns her clothing back to her body.

“No one hears of this. No one.” She says with a pointed look, deep into your eyes.

Ah, the reputation must be upheld. Whiny fucking sub.

Follower req by: @ghgygd

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow

[orteil42]

some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god