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johannestevans · 4 months

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Where do I find the queer people?

Making friends and finding social & community spaces as an LGBTQ+ adult.

Originally published with Prism & Pen. Also on my Patreon.

Photo by Brett Sayles via Pexels.

A friend and I recently went to a Queer Open Mic night after I saw it advertised on the same afternoon. While we were on the way back, she asked about how I’d found it.

“I just feel like you always know loads of queer events that are on,” she said, “and I don’t know how to begin to find them.”

I sat down with her a few weeks later and showed her some of the ways I find events, regular or otherwise, and where I look for others — especially given that on social media in the past few days I’ve seen a few people talking about the difficulty of finding and meeting with new queer people when not online.

I thought it might be useful to put it together here.

It’s quite hard with the pressure on and elimination of many third spaces to go out and easily meet people, and given that most of us use a lot of online socials and dating apps, it can feel difficult to seek out and engage with in-person spaces without knowing exactly what the protocol or format of the event is going to be.

Especially given that many people are still more isolated than they were before the start of the Covid pandemic, and/or struggle with seeking out events for themselves having finished school or university or other more structured environments, there can be a lot of anxiety about attending events or meeting new people. But it’s worth it to remember that pretty much everyone else is in a similar spot, and there’s nothing weird or unusual about wanting to make friends or have social time with others.

I am based in the North of England and generally go between the UK and Ireland. So this guide might be less useful depending on where you are. Obviously, in countries with more repressive legislation on queer identity, community groups will by definition be far more underground. Even in areas where this isn’t the case, some of these suggestions might be more viable than others depending on how densely populated your area is, how accessible different venues and events are, and how active your local queer communities are. So, just take what’s good for you and leave the rest.

Finding Local Queer Community Groups

In your search engine, put in simple search terms — [queer] [group] in [my area].

If you can, narrow your search to websites updated in the last 6 months to 2 or 3 years — you’ll sometimes find a website from six or seven years ago where the events haven’t been running for half that when you were already excited about it.

Search your town, city, or county first, and then widen your search — I normally initially look for Bradford and Leeds respectively, but then might broaden my search to West Yorkshire or even North England depending on the time of year and if I’m more willing to travel for certain events, e.g. looking up summer events around Pride, or specific holiday events if you’re looking at Halloween, Christmas, New Year’s, etc.

Combine:

“Queer”, “LGBT” or “LGBTQ”, “Trans”, “Gay Men’s”, “Lesbian”, “Transgender”, “Transsexual”, “Gay Rights” or similar terms

With:

“Charity”, “Support Group”, “Social Space”, “Community Space”, “Meetup”, “Society”, and similar terms

Swap around the terms and find what language seems to be used in your area — remember that depending on the age group and demographic you’re looking at or for, there might be terms you prefer.

I personally search for a lot of gay men’s groups because the average age tends to be a lot older and focused more on the experiences and social spaces of men who love men rather than general queer spaces, which I find can be a bit too young and fast-paced for my speed.

In general, I find that there’s a loose separation between younger trans and queer social groups, which tend to be a mix of differing identities and ages but with a big emphasis on young adults in the 18–25 area, and then specific gay men’s or lesbians’ groups, which will have a wider swathe of ages and might be a little bit less online.

I understand the fear some people have of these spaces being more transphobic than younger spaces — that’s not personally been my experience, as transphobia and lateral bigotry might happen in any social space, but unfortunately, you just don’t know the specifics of an event or a group until you get there and actually meet and talk to the people.

Some charities or community groups that run a variety of spaces might have specific age or identity guidance on group titles — some might be particularly for younger or older people, be for trans people more than cis people, and some might focus on particular sub-communities, such as BIPOC queer groups or specific religious or ethnic meetups, disabled queer groups, etc.

You also might find meetups that are centred around certain hobbies, professions, or interests — boardgames or Magic the Gathering, Doctor Who or fantasy novels, medical professionals or blacksmiths, etc, depending on how big the area you’re in is and how populous it is.

If you are already a member of an institution or society, whether that’s your school or university, your union, some workplaces, your temple or other religious institution, etc, you might find that there are already events running for you!

Finding Queer Events Online

There are almost certainly queer events on, and they’re probably advertised, but where do you find them?

What’s annoying about the Internet as it exists, corporate online spaces and otherwise, is that most events will be posted in one or two spaces out of hundreds. The good ones will sometimes be hard to find because there’s a bunch of shitty advertising in the way, and because individuals and small charity or community advertisers don’t necessarily know about things like search engine optimisation or how to make a good, searchable post. There will be really cool events that are advertised online, but just aren’t tagged or easy to find.

This means that it’s worth looking often but keeping it casual — glancing through the top page for events that might be coming up or meet some keywords, but if most of what you see is ads, just leave it and move on. Digging through for the good events in busy areas that are also ad-heavy can take ages and might not even turn up much.

If you find socials for local community groups or charities, even if they don’t run events themselves, they might regularly share other local events or cool ones, so it can be worth following them!

Ditto for other queer people in your community — follow local artists, performers, academics, creators, public speakers, craftspeople, or any local community leaders or public figures, and see if they share and boost local events.

They might boost special interest events that are of interest to you if you follow people who share certain communities or interests. If, for example, you have an interest in lolita fashion and follow queer lolita dressers in your area or in areas you can travel to, they might post events that are of interest to them and maybe to you — whether that means specific lolita events, other clothing and fashion events like gothic or steampunk markets and shows, or even anime cons or renaissance faires or whatever.

Obviously searching on social media can help — looking for keywords like “queer event” or “LGBT social” on one site or other can be especially good if it’s a site where you can localise your search results, such as Facebook or Instagram.

With that said, Facebook and Instagram are increasingly difficult sites to use given how much they’re overwhelmed by sponsored and corporate posts as well as spam and bot posts. So, it’s generally worth it more when you focus on either events in smaller and limited areas, such as small towns, or when you’re looking for crossing over of different areas of interest, such as particular queer hobbyist or interest groups. When you start looking for broader spectrum events in a busier or more populous area, you can get inundated by spam and copy-and-paste duplicate ads that have all been promoted. But it’s still worth it to have a glance and see if anything is up at the top!

Sites and apps like Eventbrite or TicketSource, or equivalents in your area, will often let you search for specific events . As with social media, these sites can have the same problem of sponsored events coming up first, and annoyingly you can’t block particular event providers or organisers to make sure they don’t show in your search results if they’re not your thing.

Use every option that comes up and see if you can cross search where you can — pick a particular location or area, click on free or paid events, pick events at certain times, pick a certain kind of event, add in tags like LGBTQ or similar if it’s a site that allows it, etc.

If an event comes up that you like the idea of, note it down, then look the organizer up on social media and see if they run or share other events.

Looking for local tourism sites will let you search for other local events as well — especially if you live in a city or regularly visit one, they’ll often have a What’s On page or a Visit [Blank] website or equivalent, and you can search through that — most of them will have cultural events or a specific LGBTQ section you can glance through.

Here’s the Visit Bristol site, for example:

What’s On in Bristol — VisitBristol.co.uk Click here to find out What’s On in Bristol!…Get the latest information on the latest Events, Festivals, Carnivals…visitbristol.co.uk

For obvious reasons, sites like most of the above will focus on paid events, especially evening and party events. Pub quizzes, drag events, bingo nights, balls, drinks offers, parties, etc.

These events aren’t for everybody — and if they’re not for you, focus on events that take place, if not in cafés and restaurants, then in libraries, universities, museums, and other public buildings.

Queer Events Locally Advertised In-Person

Wait, do people still do that?

Look for poster and notice boards in:

Libraries, museums, community centres, university lobbies

Vintage and alternative clothes stores, music venues, etc

Your temple, church, or other religious institutions

Gay bars, queer cafés, LGBTQ centres, queer bookshops

Doctor’s offices, GUM clinics, and sexual health clinics

Anywhere else you see a noticeboard with events showing!

Also look on flag poles or in windows around your local gay bars or businesses if you have any, generally around the gay village if there’s one to go through.

How do you know the events are good? How do you know they’re legit?

How old does the poster look? Do you see many copies of it around?

Look for dates for the event(s) they’re advertising on the poster, and then look up the venue the events are meant to happen at. Do the dates match? Is it a regular event? Is the event showing on the venue’s website or social media?

Is the event run by a local group, collective, or charity? When you search them, do they have socials or a site of their own? Do they seem active?

If a local queer poster gives you socials, check those socials out — do they have any followers you’re familiar with? Do they post their venues publicly and have defined and public meeting times? Do they seem to have active and engaged commenters? Is there a face or faces behind the social media, or are they anonymous?

If an event is run by anonymous people, or if it seems like they don’t have many followers on social media or very active ones, that might be a bit more suspicious — ditto if an event just gives you a phone number but not any further identifying info.

It’s not inherently suspicious for a queer event to be at an undisclosed location, because of course people do want to ensure some safeguarding and vet people before they come, but if it’s an undisclosed location in combination with anonymous organising, that might be a bit suspicious, and should probably be avoided.

Finding Queer People in Specific Hobby or Other Community Spaces

You don’t have to go to queer-specific events to meet other queer people — any hobby or community you can think of, there’s probably queer people in attendance.

If you’re in a busier or more populous area, say there are 5 events that centre around the same hobby — of those 5, some of them will have more queer people than others, and it might be worth checking them out just to see if you click with anyone there.

My partner and I attend queer-specific board-game evenings that are run out of gay bars or by queer clubs, but pretty much any board-game night is likely to have one or two queer people knocking about, whether they know or would identify themselves as LGBTQ+ off the bat or not.

While there are obviously more open queer people at the queer events, I would say that when we went to a local board-game night run by older straight guys, about a quarter of the attendees were older queer people.

Of my queer friends, pretty much all of them have varied interests and attend different groups or clubs with a lot of other queers knocking about without them being labelled or explicitly queer events — knitting and crocheting, computer coding, electronic music and DJing, fandom, blacksmithing, glassblowing, stand-up comedy, improv, cooking, gardening, board games, cosplay and historical costuming, LEGO, live-action roleplay, tabletop roleplaying games, Magic the Gathering, Yu-Gi-Oh, and other trading card games, poker, burlesque, sports games and clubs, swimming, cycling, fishing, photography, book clubs, bug collecting, birdwatching, weaving, painting, sculpture, pottery, video games, singing, songwriting, poetry…

The list goes on.

Hell, half the people I know seem to go and meet new dates at the local climbing wall, where it seems like all the lesbians and gay guys are crawling all over one another. Another friend of mine attends their local WI, and have met other queer people there.

Other Tips

Remember you can meet people on dating and hook-up apps and that doesn’t necessarily have to be for sex and relationships, whether that’s Grindr, Her, Lex, etc — or you can ask hook-ups and casual dates where they go or if there are local events they think are good or fun. Poly people are particularly useful for this, because they’ll often have a whole network of regular events crossing over and diverging.

If you’re nervous about going to an event alone and you don’t have anybody to go with you, it can be worth checking it out on socials first and see if you have any mutual friends with people that are going — if not, it’s worth heading along anyway, because people might well speak to you before you have to open the conversation with them.

Community groups will often have icebreakers or sessions where people swap names, pronouns, and basic introductions, and that can ease the way into getting used to the space.

If you see somebody else on their own who seems nervous to talk to people, they can be good to approach and say, hey, I also don’t know anyone here, what brings you here? And so on. Remember, other people are pretty much always in the same boat as you.

For me, one of the biggest anxieties about going to new events alone is the fact that I’m disabled and dependent on public transport, and that combo can make it tough on me if I get to a place and it’s inaccessible or just not my speed, and then I have to sort of immediately turn heel and leave, but wait ages for a bus in the meantime. I’ve missed more than one event I was really excited about just because transport didn’t line up for me.

Some considerations to keep in mind when you look for events:

Is the event free or paid? Is this clearly marked? Do you need to buy tickets in advance?

How recent is the posting about the event? Is it posted on a web page or a social media page? Are there recent comments or engagement on the entry? If there is a contact for the event, is it active and responsive?

Is this event regular or recurrent? Is it for a special occasion, and does it have sister events or concurrent events?

Is the event exclusively online, exclusively in-person, or do they change between the two formats? Would you prefer to attend online before you attend in-person?

Do you want to go to a closed and more private group — for example, one that has you message them for the time and location, seems to have capped attendee limits, seems to have a regular community. Or do you want to attend a more casual event in a larger, open space where people might not notice as much as you come and go? Is it going to be very crowded or more spaced out?

Where is the event located, and will you be comfortable in that venue? Is it in a community building such as a charity space, community group, religious institute, school, or university? Is it in a café, restaurant, pub, bar, club, or late-night venue? Is it an explicitly or dedicated queer space? If you are not out to other members of your community, will going into this space reveal that you might be a member of a queer group?

Is the venue age-restricted, and will it require ID? If you must provide ID, will providing your ID in a dead name or in a different gender presentation to your current one be anxiety-inducing or a potential problem for you?

How accessible is the venue to you? Is it walkable, on a regular bus route, or does it have appropriate parking for you? Does it have ramps or elevators? Is it well-ventilated, and does it have a HVAC or other air filtration and purification protocol? Is masking enforced, and/or are masks provided? If you might be watching something together, is there a hearing loop, will there be subtitles on a screening? Is there a first aider at the event? Does the venue serve food or drink, or provide refreshments?

If you are attending alone and have specific needs or requirements, or might need to leave abruptly, is there someone you can let know at the event, such as a first aider or community leader? Are there regular buses, a taxi rank, or online taxi access if you need to quickly head home? Have you let someone else know where you are going, just as a safety concern?

Is the event activity-based, or is it a space where people just sit and talk? Would one or the other of these feel more natural or comfortable to you? Do you have to bring your own activity, such as with a craft or knitting circle, or are supplies provided, such as boardgames or a screening?

Does the group or host for the event(s) have social media? Do they advertise the regular events on socials, or have a newsletter, or some other helpful reminder system?

Most community events will be free, but if it’s an activity group or society, or if it’s a private event, especially one where they buy equipment or supplies, there might be an up-front ticket or access fee, a membership fee or a collection jar or similar — most events will tell you in advance if there is a fee or if they might request a donation.

Most importantly, like… Have fun.

If it sucks, hit the bricks — there’s no obligation to stay anywhere if it’s not fun or doesn’t satisfy you in the way you were hoping.

There’s always other events out there, and you’re very unlikely to truly be the only gay in the village, even if it sometimes feels that way. Good luck!

#musings #queer pride #lgbt #gay community

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dreamerdeity · 7 months

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𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔

*ೃ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Choso Kamo x Fem. reader

*ೃ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 4.1k

*ೃ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : A hectic schedule and impending deadlines require you to be at your sharpest, yet you can't seem to get a second of sleep thanks to your heedless dorm-mate's nightly jam sessions. To scold him at first, you make your way over to his room, but suddenly he's teaching you how to strum a guitar, and suddenly again, you're somehow in his lap .

*ೃ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Hand job, Praise kink (f. giving), unestablished relationship, cursing, slightly perverted behavior (?), 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, the rest, please proceed at your own risk.

*ೃ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : YAYYY first Kinktober piece in my series!! This one's quite long only because it's Choso and I've recently (2 years and counting) been on my Kamo boys d riding shi so they get special treatment. Also, please do not report my work! I'm tired of getting flagged, so if you are uncomfortable, do not read.

⇄ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Football season approached its grand commencement, dawning an atmosphere of vibrance and vitality upon a typically spiritless college campus (mid terms tend to have that sort of effect on people, you supposed). Every kid around the buzzy premises had begun to eagerly place their bets, ready to squander their humble savings on predictions pertaining to games they weren't exactly a part of.

But as elating as it all sounded to the average student with heaps of coursework and limited entertainment, opening week was an incredibly hectic time for you, and if you were normally indifferent about being on the cheer squad, you sure as hell hated it during this time of year. Because let’s just say, sore muscles and ill-functioning ankles weren’t exactly your idea of fun—Neither were tight ponytails that threatened to rapture a vein in your temple, however—oh however, setting all of that aside, there was one thing you always, always looked forward to: Catching a glimpse of Choso Kamo languidly slumped against the least congested corner of the bleachers--if he were lucky enough to score a corner seat, that is—his bored eyes barely following the figures of beefy men running around the field at breakneck speed.

His entire existence within the stadium was an anomaly of sorts as raging crowds jumped and screamed around him, and it baffled you to say the least; How he never failed to show up—all dressed up and equipped, mind you—but barely reacted. Why the hell was he here when he clearly looked like he'd rather be doing anything but this? Like, maybe, spending the evening in his lair (his room) all alone, drowning in stifling darkness (he refused to raise his blinds. ever). Though the more you saw him around the stadium, the more you looked forward to being there.

pretty weird, pretty sappy.

You often found yourself discretely glancing over at the crowds in search of him when a game was on, smiling to yourself with a giddy skip to your step every time you did. The circumstances were ordinary, unfavorable even—and you racked your brain left and right—for any logical justification to the sizzling concoction of emotions that bore itself into your psyche every time he so much as uttered a single unenthusiastic “Hi” your way.

Sure, he was aloof and mostly kept to himself, emanating a brooding air that bordered on intimidation as his sharp features wordlessly screamed “don’t talk to me” while you greatly contrasted him in demeanor, carrying yourself ever so vivaciously, always high-spirited and bubbling with energy, but something about him made your head spin. Perhaps it was the way he towered over you as he passed by in the hallways, his guitar case handle firmly secured under the grip of his ring-stacked fingers. Or maybe it was those tired half-lidded eyes that met your own for a speck of a second every time you encountered one another on the way to your neighboring dorm rooms. Granted, you’ve barely exchanged a full sentence over the past two years you'd "known" him, apart from the occasional “good morning”, and “the weather sucks today, doesn’t it?”, but damn.

Choso on the other hand simply didn't have a single fucking clue how to approach you. Despite his good looks, he was too awkward to pull the girls he wanted, and he didn't have much game anyway, he knew that much, though that never stopped him from stealing glances at your pretty round ass every time your skirt rode up your thighs a little too high while you passionately cheered for your team down by the field, or how his vivid imagination raced at a million miles per second every time he caught a whiff of your vanilla bean mist as you skipped past him with your friends. It seemed like you weren't the only one having a hard time, and yet the both of you were acting like cowardly hormonal teenagers, too afraid of laying your feelings out in the open for each other to see.

You fancied the man, that was the conclusion you'd reached, but boy did he love to get on your nerves sometimes. Matter of fact, you'd pray to whatever deity if it meant getting him out of the damn dorms and off somewhere with whatever friends he had for once, because at this rate you won't be getting any shut-eye for the rest of your days. You always heard him toying with that blaring guitar of his late into Friday nights, missing a single note and deciding to play the same riff again over and over until your eardrums threatened to pop. You swore it made you want to rip your hair out every time, and tonight was no different. You dramatically pull the covers over your head in an attempt to block away the ruckus, making a point of huffing and puffing dramatically, hoping he'd magically hear your distress and quit his shit.

To absolutely no avail. He did not quit his shit.

After what felt like an eternity of agitated tossing and turning, you get up with an exasperated sigh and stomp out of your dorm room, making your way over to Choso's to give him a piece of your mind.

"Open up, will you? I've been hearing you fiddle on that thing for an hour, ya know. Some of us need to sleep!" You knock a little too aggressively for his liking and shift your weight between your feet in awaiting. A few beats later, muffled shuffling echoes from within his room, and you can hear him groan in annoyance as he trudges toward the door.

It cracks open at first, timidly almost, like he was debating whether to step out there and confront you, or shut the door right back at your face. Under any other circumstances, you think you might've found that cute, how a grown man double your size was so unnerved by your presence, but right now, you needed sleep, and you needed to scold him. So you lightly block the door with your hand and he finally yields, stepping out in all of his glory.

Fuck.

Whatever bitter words you had planned to hurl at him stick in your throat. He looms over you in nothing but a black shirt that hugs his pecs a little too tightly, sweatpants hanging loosely around his hips, the hem of his boxers peeking just above the waistband. It just dawned on you that you'd never been in this close a proximity to him before, and you involuntarily trail your eyes downward, gulping at what you thought you saw under the thin fabric of his sweats. Probably packing a horse or two down there if you dare say. Stop being weird, damn it.

"Sorry. I'll play unplugged then." He tells you blandly, his guitar still hanging around his waist and his digits hover over what looked like the B string, giving you a view of the bulging veins and stacked up rings hugging his thick index and middle fingers. Pretty hands. Really pretty fucking hands. You wonder how it might feel to intertwine your fingers with his own, or trace the callouses on his palm, or maybe even have those fingers in your—

"You uhh...you good?" He clears his throat to grab your visibly wandering thoughts and you shoot upright like a child caught sneaking a bite of candy right before supper.

Great. You were staring. He caught you staring.

"Oh, uh. Yeah, you do that." You just smile like an idiot, having forgotten why you knocked in the first place at this point and quickly avert your eyes, haphazardly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear in a failed attempt to busy yourself with any kind of movement, anything to dissipate the cloud of tension (or awkwardness, you tended to get delusional sometimes so you weren't so sure) that had loomed over the two of you.

"That song you were playing. It's really nostalgic. I didn't know you had a thing for the oldies." You beam at him with a tilt of your head, expertly deflecting from whatever he might have said after following your eyes that cast down. And maybe even an implicit apology for your irritated banging earlier

"Yeah? You know it?" His stoic eyes light up ever so slightly with a glint of enthusiasm, and you wouldn't have noticed it at all had you not been standing mere inches from his form.

"Yeah, my dad used to blast it in the car all the time I almost got sick of it."

"Well, he's got taste." His lips curl up in a faint smile, and he pauses for a moment, internally battling with himself at the inevitable prospect of having to cut this conversation short, so he does what any normal person would do, perking up slightly and gesturing behind him, "Hey, you uh, wanna come in? You could watch me play or something, I dunno."

This was the closest Choso was ever going to get to making a move. Quite frankly, he expected a rejection right then and there, and he would have preferred if you just got it over with as soon as possible instead of staring at him with wide eyes and an indecipherable expression, but you would have been a fool to decline his invitation. After all, this was your chance to get…closer to him. Whatever that may mean, and so you too did what any normal person would do...

"Yeah, sure!"

Accept his invitation.

It takes him a moment to realize you've said yes, going into a momentary stupor, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was...shocked. Though he doesn't hesitate in retreating to the side, holding the door open for you with his free hand. There was plenty of room to smoothly make your way inside, and yet you deliberately brush your hip against his arm as you wiggle in, fleetingly glancing up at him with a knowing smile, because, my god, there was no denying the fact that he caught onto your subtle gesture, pulse quickening and faint flush steadily creeping up his cheekbones as he averts his eyes some place else to avoid your own. He's so cute.

"Neat room." You trail off as you make your way around, unceremoniously plopping down on his gaming chair.

"Thanks. Your posture is terrible, by the way." He quips with a quirk of his eyebrow, making his way over to sit across you on the carpeted floor.

"Oh well, aren't you a peach, insulting me in my own home!" You glare at him, voice laced with feigned offense that hardly masks your amusement.

"Your own home? You're in my room."

"This entire building is the home in question."

"That makes no sense becau—"

"Shut up!"

“Ok sorry.”

My god, he really is so cute, and you wonder when was the last time your heart fluttered at a man as he pliantly drops the subject and crosses his legs, adjusting the guitar in his arms. He’s wearing Christmas socks in March, you note. Gotta marry him. When hes happy with his posture, he glances back up at you as you swivel and spin in his chair like a child.

“Got anything in mind?” He tilts his head to the side, calloused fingers absently strumming on amp-less strings.

"Something easy to play. I know a thing or two about guitar you know. You're not the only cool one here." You quip with crossed arms.

"That so?" Choso chuckles at your words, grabbing his pick and steadying his posture. " 'Kay, how about this?"

He starts off softly, a recognizable riff reverberating within the walls of his dark-lit room, and the notes are barely audible over the buzzing of the air conditioner. His eyes cast down to watch the movement of his fingers, head bobbing slightly to tone-less notes and foot tapping leisurely to the rhythm. You watch. Your eyes focus on his face, then fall to his dexterous hands, then back up to his face. Was he always this sexy? It takes you a moment to realize he had stopped playing, wrist relaxing and eyes following your own.

"'Smoke on the Water?' Really?" You snort at him with an incredulous look on your face and he frowns in return, his lower lip jutting out in an offended pout.

"What? You said easy to play. Besides, it'd sound better if I play it plugged, but somebody would have a problem with that."

He blinks at you. You blink at him. Then you burst into a fit of laughter, causing him to subconsciously replace his own pout with a smile that mirrors your own. He's so lost in every wave of your hand and shake of your shoulders that it takes him a second to register what you say a few seconds later as your giggles die down.

"You're cute. Like, really cute."

You're going to kill him.

"Ah, y-you too.." Great. How fucking lame, pathetic even. Did he really just say that?

"Teach me guitar... Mr. You Too." You say a little too breathlessly, a sweet lilt to your pretty voice that has blood rushing to places he'd rather it didn't. But god, was he supposed to just ignore the way you were looking at him right now? The way your arms squeezed those perfect tits of yours together over the thin silk of your sleepwear? The soft flesh of your thighs spilling past your tiny shorts? How was he supposed to foc—

"Sure." Swirling thoughts and rushing blood are set aside. He rises to his feet, taking a step toward your sitting figure and meekly handing you his guitar, something incredibly surprising in and of itself, because typically hell would break loose if a soul dared touch his guitar, but it was you. And he liked you. So damn much it almost hurt.

You take it from his hands, fingers brushing against his own. Awkwardly, you try to adjust the startlingly heavy instrument within your arms, struggling to set it at the right angle, huffing and puffing to yourself as Choso does nothing but watch you with a lazy snicker in your state of distress, and when you finally manage on your own, the notes come out far from what you had expected, deepening the frown on your face. Choso thinks you look adorable when you're mad, but he's not so cruel, so he senses your distaste at the muffled notes and plugs the guitar into the amp for you. His lips curl into a little smile as he watches your face light up.

"Woah! How does it literally sound so different?" You gawk in excitement at the rich timbre of crunchy notes.

"Trippy as fuck, isn't it?"

You hum in acknowledgement and rack your brain for the right notes to play. Which string was D again? More frowning. More pouting, and Choso remains unmoving, too fixated on your cute expressions to do anything.

He feels bad. Eventually.

"Here, let me help you." Gruff voice reassures you softly as he makes his way behind your chair, hunching forward, breath fanning against your cheek, and fingers planted over your own, so very gently guiding you to the needed fret. The distinct scent of cedar wood and whisky floods your senses and fuck, you don't even want to play anymore. You want him. All of him. Maybe if you just—

"Choso..."

"Hmm?"

You're not even sure what came over you, but your head is suddenly void of reason when you turn your face to his and crash your lips on his own. So soft. This is what you were missing? Fuck it, there's no time to be embarrassed of your boldness-out of the blue, not when he returns your kiss with as much fervor, lips melding with your own and tongue eagerly swiping over yours, and definitely not when he’s picking you up and throwing you on his bed, climbing right after you and situating you on his lap. Guitar lays forgotten as it haphazardly rests on the chair across the room. His thoughts are all of you, and you of him.

"This okay?" He mutters quietly, like he was embarrassed, cheeks flushed as he seeks permission to place his hands on your hips. You smile down at him, wordlessly placing your hands over his rough ones and guiding them to your curves. How could a man looking so strong be this gentle?

Before he could say anything more, your lips are on his again, tongue sucking on his own and fingers entangled in tousled strands of jet black hair, hips grinding frantically against his lap, feeling him harden under you with every delicate roll of your hips.

"Mmph.." He groans softly into the kiss, grip tightening impossibly on your hips as he guides your movements. Up, down. Left, right. Fuck, he's wanted this for so long he might cum in his pants from this alone. That won't do. What would you think then? He's got to hold out, he's got to—

"sh-shit." Pulling away from those glossy lips of yours, he buries his face in your neck, breath ragged and hands halting your grinding hips. You were so lost in your feels that it took you a second to put two and two together, glancing down and seeing the object of his distress; A dark patch of precum staining his sweats. What a development.

"So worked up just from this? You're so cute." You coo at him so sweetly, so softly he thinks he might just lose his mind, and your hands find his pretty, blushing face, gingerly cupping his cheeks to place a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and trailing down to his jaw. You nip and suck on his skin, sloppy kisses peppered along his jaw and down the junction of his neck and shoulder, a hand reaching under his shirt to brush against his abdomen, and just as he thought his heart couldn't race any faster, he could feel it vigorously thump against his ribs with the tickle of your breath against his earlobe.

"Just... let me. Wanna make you cum all pretty for me." You whisper so tenderly against his skin when your hand reached for the waistband of his sweats only for him to block it with a grip to your wrist, too flustered to have you see him that way. But, god, with the way your voice drips with honey, your soft fingers dance along the skin of his stomach, your warm breath teases his cheek, he's got no choice but to hand himself over to you. Let you have him whichever way you pleased. Make him feel good.

His grip around your wrist loosens and his hand rises back up to your waist. He's biting his lip, eyes so dazed already and you haven't even done anything yet. You search his features for any signs of discomfort, finding none and taking it as invitation to go further. You slowly reach into his sweats, palming him through his boxers and grazing your nails over his thighs. So agonizing.

"Please..." Choso whimpers, desperate, soft, and fucking hell, it's your turn to cover your face, a surge of electricity traveling up your spine from his voice alone. You don't respond, your actions speaking for themselves as you pull his twitching cock from within its confines and give it a few experimental pumps, slowly circling your thumb over his slit and smearing precum along the rest of his length. His breath hitches at the contact, tip so wet and sensitive as arousal dribbles down his cock in a shiny stream.

"You're so perfect like this. Doing so good for me, Cho..."

Stop it.

"You're gonna kill me if you keep saying shit like that..." He hisses so faintly you barely catch it, and brings his forehead to rest on your shoulder as your hand sets a rhythmic pace around his cock, twisting around the base when you glide down and the tip when you glide back up. At least if you couldn't see his face and him yours, he'll last longer. Maybe.

"Do you like it though?"

Of course he likes it. What kind of question even was that? Could you not see the way he involuntarily bucked into your hand with every word of praise you gave him? How a brilliant blush crept up his cheeks as you called him cute that first time around? How he could barely keep himself upright just now? But he tells you none of those things, instead, he nods against your shoulder, eyes closed and hands brushing up your waist so gently you almost melt into his arms.

"Yeah, keep talking—fuck, j-just keep talking."

And you do just that, dipping to suck on the exposed side of his thick neck as you murmur every honeyed word you could muster. "You like it, huh? Look at you bucking into my hand all pretty. Makin' me wet with all those sounds you're making." And fuck, he groans so loudly in acknowledgement, hips jerking upward to meet your strokes like a bitch in heat. You pump him as expertly as you've been doing this entire time, deft hand relentlessly gliding up and down, determined to make him cum all over you, to give you what you've been craving for as long as you could remember, because fuck was he so pretty like this, black strands damp with sweat as they stuck to his face, body shuddering with each and every touch of your hands, lips parted and his breath fanning against your shoulder, flush reaching all the way down to his neck. Hell. You might be the one to cum untouched after all.

"I-if you keep this up m'gonna—fuck..m'gonna cum."

You don't stop.

"Then cum. Wanna see your face when you do though. Wanna see how good it feels, Cho." You murmur desperately against the side of his neck, his face still nuzzled in your shoulder, but your tender coaxing drives him to meet your gaze, lips parted and breath picking up as his chest rises and falls in tandem with his jerking hips. His eyebrows furrow, his head falls back, he bucks violently into your hand, a throaty groan tumbles past his lips and he grips your hips so hard you're positive it'll leave a bruise.

"Oh fuckfuckfuck c-cumming..." He babbles frantically, so lost in the feeling and you stroke him vigorously through his high, watching as his cock twitches and a string of thick white shoots past your hand, painting your fingers and the hem of his black shirt porcelain. Delicately, your movements slow down, eyes not leaving his face for a single second, though he's too busy attempting to recompose himself to notice your relentless gaze.

"You did so good." You finally coo at him softly.

"Whatever." He murmurs, averting his eyes as fast as they met your own and covering his face with the back of his hand, post-nut clarity finally hitting him like a truck.

"Don't be like that!" You stifle a giggle and swat his arm, watching as he refuses to look at you like some teenager touching a girl for the first time, and you lean over him, gingerly bringing his face in your hands.

"Hi." You grin down at him, your hair tickling his face and giving him a good reason to close his eyes, avoiding your gaze even further.

"Hey."

"By the way, I have a question that's been eating me up for ages."

"What is it?" His curiosity piques, eyes finally meeting your own.

"Why do you always show up to games when you look half-asleep and bored out of your mind every single time?"

He eyes you incredulously. Out of all the things you could've asked at a time like this...

"Ah, my little brother is on the team. I've gotta be there for him somehow."

You're squeaking and giddily bouncing in his lap and he thinks you've gone crazy, staring blankly at you as you bring your hands to squish at his cheeks yet again. "That's so adorable! You're so adorable! Who is it? It's Yuji isn't it? I knew it! I somehow did. I'm so sure it is!"

"Whatefuh you shay, and yeah. Can you let go of m'face now."

"Right! Sorry--" You let his cheeks fall back into place and begin to rise from his lap, but he holds you back down with a firm grip to your waist.

"Where're you goin'? You didn't get to cum." He drawls, raspy voice hitting you right in your core as he leans closer, lips brushing against your own as he speaks again. "I'll make it up to you... 'Just let me.' "

Fine, you'll just let him then...

@kimhargreeves

#choso x reader #jjk x reader #choso kamo #kinktober 2023 #choso jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #choso x female reader #choso smut #I'm crazy why is this 4k something words

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probablyasocialecologist · 3 months

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Google search really has been taken over by low-quality SEO spam, according to a new, year-long study by German researchers. The researchers, from Leipzig University, Bauhaus-University Weimar, and the Center for Scalable Data Analytics and Artificial Intelligence, set out to answer the question "Is Google Getting Worse?" by studying search results for 7,392 product-review terms across Google, Bing, and DuckDuckGo over the course of a year. They found that, overall, "higher-ranked pages are on average more optimized, more monetized with affiliate marketing, and they show signs of lower text quality ... we find that only a small portion of product reviews on the web uses affiliate marketing, but the majority of all search results do." They also found that spam sites are in a constant war with Google over the rankings, and that spam sites will regularly find ways to game the system, rise to the top of Google's rankings, and then will be knocked down. "SEO is a constant battle and we see repeated patterns of review spam entering and leaving the results as search engines and SEO engineers take turns adjusting their parameters," they wrote.

[...]

The researchers warn that this rankings war is likely to get much worse with the advent of AI-generated spam, and that it genuinely threatens the future utility of search engines: "the line between benign content and spam in the form of content and link farms becomes increasingly blurry—a situation that will surely worsen in the wake of generative AI. We conclude that dynamic adversarial spam in the form of low-quality, mass-produced commercial content deserves more attention."

#google #internet #information #search engine #spam

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linkspooky · 2 months

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Kusakabe the Last Man Standing

Is Kusakabe going to defeat Sukuna all by himself?

Probably not. I fully expect Maki and Yuji to get back up and join the fight. However, Kusakabe is a character that has been slept on for awhile and with him being reluctantly shoved into the spotlight I think it's time to write a meta analyzing him. Especially since the revelation that Kusakabe is the strongest first grade fighter didn't come out of nowhere, in fact Gege has been building up Kusakabe in the background for quite some time which I'll explore under the cut.

So Okay, He's Average

I want to begin this analysis by saying that Kusakabe represents a type of character that Jujutsu Kaisen is desperately in need of. He's just a normal guy. He's our only example of an everyman character. Usually in manga the protagonist serves as the everyman character, especially ones like Yuji who come from a normal life and are being introduced to a fantastical world for the first time, but Yuji ain't normal. Someone who willingly eats a finger that may kill him just so he can be useful and save a stranger isn't normal. Gojo has Yuji pegged as one of the crazy ones within the first few chapters.

Gojo says that sorcerers have to be crazy, that the best Jujutsu Sorcerers need to be broken in the head otherwise they can't get over their fear of curses and risk their lives fighting them on a daily basis. The cast is full of eccentrics, Gojo the strongest of all isn't even able to relate to other human beings, Sukuna is termed a calamity, Yuta kisses cockroaches without hesitation there's not a normal one in the whole bunch.

The ones that are normal, like Miwa who acts like an average high school girl, has no technique, and Mai who desperately craves to be a normal girl and doesn't want to be a jujutsu sorcerer, either are minor characters or they die.

You could say Ijichi provides the point of view as a normal character, but he's a minor character at best and uninvolved in the plot. Then there's Nanami, who represents the typical japanese salaryman. However, Nanami is extraordinary in that he is far more moral than all of his coworkers, such as returning to be a sorcerer because the work helps people instead of keeping his cushy job, and prioritizing the lives of children over himself.

Us mediocre and average people are in desperate need for representation. Cue, Kusakabe.

His introduction clearly demonstrates his attitude is different from most sorcerers, rather than running straight into danger, Kusakabe is trying to search for an excuse to stay out of danger where it's safe. While it's cowardly, it's also what a normal person would do in this situation. We are so used to sorcerers who either risk life and limb without a thought for the sake of other people like Nanami or Yuji, or sorcerers who enjoy the fight like Gojo that Kusakabe stands out.

Miwa who is basically the example of the normal girl among the teenagers shares several parallels with Kusakabe, they're both simple domain masters without cursed techniques, they're both self serving, and also Kusakabe is her teacher and probably the one who recruited her considering he shows up to save her at the end of Shibuya.

Kusakabe is meant to represent what a normal person with common sense would do in the world of Jujutsu, but that doesn't mean he's weak. As I stated above Gege has actually been building up Kusakabe's strength in the background for quite awhile.

When training with Yuji, Gojo first brings up that some sorcerers rely on their techniques too much and that Yuji doesn't necessarily need a fancy technique to win, he can overcome them by learning to control his cursed energy and then using it to strengthen his already amazing martial arts skills and physical prowess.

The Big Three clans like tend to overvalue inherited techniques too, the downfall of the Zen'in is that they didn't recognize the strength of people like Maki and Toji with no cursed energy because they believed their cursed techniques to be inherently superior.

In Mechamaru's fight against Mahito, Gege makes a big deal spending an entire page explaining the history and mechanics of simple domains. There's obviously no need to put this much attention into detail to explain simple domains unless they're going to come into play later, and while Miwa uses them as stated above she's a minor character.

A technique called the "Domain for the Weak" what better technique for a normal guy like Kusabe, who is stuck in a cast of super-human characters. When fighting with Yuji, Mei Mei compares Yuji to Kuskabe.

"You're on par with a grade-1 sorcerer at this point. To be this good without a cursed technique... I think you're the only one since Kusakabe."

To further compare him to Mei Mei, Mei Mei monologues about how because her cursed technique of controlling birds is weak she tried to strengthen her body. However, eventually she hit a brick wall and couldn't get any stronger and reach Grade-1 on her efforts alone. Which is when she decided to start using Ui Ui as a tool to make herself stronger by making binding vows between him and herself to strengthen her, in addition to inventing her suicide crow technique.

However, Kusakabe is even stronger than Mei Mei and he managed to reach that level by himself without needing to groom and manipulate a child.

Kusakabe also spends all of Shibuya avoiding getting in a fight with a special grade cursed spirit, and yet at the end of Shibuya he ends up tanking an Uzumaki Maximum from Kenjaku at point blank. Kenjaku even praises him.

This is the same Kenjaku who can use Suguru Geto's cursed technique even better than Geto can, and who wiped the floor with Choso while bragging that a cursed spirit that's ranked Grade-1 like Choso could never go one on one with a special grade. We never saw Kusakabe directly fight Kenjaku (he would probably run in the opposite direction if given the chance) but the fact that he can use a simple domain to cancel out one of Geto's strongest techniques point blank is really telling.

All the while having relatable thoughts like this one. In a lot of ways, Kusakabe reminds me of Todo, someone who Gojo mentioned as being one of the next up and coming star students alongside Hakari, and Yuta. Todo has a cursed technique that's simple but effective, but he also fights similiar to Yuji by his expert control of cursed energy. Todo fights mainly with his fists and martial arts and his impressive knowledge of how cursed energy moves though the body, his cursed technique gives him an added bonus.

Up until this point in the manga though Todo is the most knowledgable about cursed energy, he teaches it Yuji very easily and explains it in ways Yuji can understand. Fighting alongside Todo also brings out Yuji's full potential as a sorcerer. Todo is all muscle, but he fights with his head and is the smartest student in Kyoto.

All of this to say, Kusakabe's strength without a cursed technique can be explained by relating him to Todo. In the Gojo vs. Sukuna fights who is the main voice explaining to both the other students at Jujutsu High and the audience just how the battle is going down.

Kusakabe is not in there in the field, he's watching it on TV, and yet somehow he can disect and explain to the others how both Sukuna and Gojo are using high level Jujutsu Techniques. This is Sukuna and Gojo we're talking about, two geniuses who are the height of jujutsu and can often improvise and make up new techniques on the fly and yet Kusakabe is able to keep up with what's going on.

Kusakabe gives the play by play, he somehow knows what falling blossom emotion is even though he's not from one of the three big families. He explains to Hakari and Higuruma who are natural geniuses who don't quite understand how their powers work, how Gojo can change the conditions of his barrier and how exactly he made the barrier smaller.

Remember Kusakabe is also a teacher at Jujutsu High. Unlike Gojo who doesn't try to explain basic concepts to Yuji because he's such a genius, Kusakabe is also educating all of the students here and phrasing these high level techniques in ways they can understand. You can't really do that unless you yourself have an intimate understanding of the subject matter.

What I mean to say is by putting Kusakabe in charge of the discussion, Gege is demonstrating that Kusakabe is a character who understands the mechanics of cursed energy and domains on practically the same level as Todo who as we said is considered a prodigy. This is also some clever foreshadowing, because Kusakabe here seems like he's still a background character because all he's doing is essentially expositing to the audience and yet... how impressive must he be if he understands all of these advanced domain techniques when he's just a guy with a sword and no cursed techniques that uses simple domains.

Kusakabe also understands Higuruma's legal talk in about ten seconds, and can explain the mechanics of Higuruma's domain and why their plan to put Sukuna on trial might not work. He is much smarter than he seems at first glance, Miwa even makes a joke about it. He even analyzes Sukuna's techniques after facing them head on once - and he's the only one who notices how odd it is that Sukuna's not using his fire technique like in Shibuya.

Sukuna mentions that Kusakabe along with everyone else's cursed energy reinforcement techniques must be on another level if they're able to stand up to his slashes (even if they're in a weakened state right now). After all, Ishigori who was not only one of the strongest fighters of his era but was also hyped up for his massive pool of cursed energy that rivaled Yuta's was torn to pieces by Sukuna's slashes.

Kusakabe also seems to be the one in charge of the strategy for the fight (though it was Angel's idea to let Takaba handle Kenjaku, maybe they're both coordinating but Kusakabe is definitely leading them in the field).

My point being, as much as he's accused of handling his large cast Gege is often able to give a lot of characterization in a limited screentime. Kusakabe is more than he appears to be, and it's clever how Gege built up his importance without anybody noticing, because Higuruma himself likes to avoid conflict, hide in the background and is constantly downplaying his own talents. Ino even made another joke about it last chapter.

The commonly held view is that the sorcerers who reject their humanity and only care about refining their technique are the ones who become the strongest sorcerers. However, Kusakabe was able to climb to the top of the Grade One sorcerers despite lacking that attitude.

In my opinion, Jujutsu Kaisen is fundamentally about balance, so while there's a definite trend of Sorcerers who resemble Sukuna are the ones who become stronger - it's not presented as the only way to be strong. Yuji only defeated Mahito by cooperating with Todo. On top of that, Sukuna while finding Yuji boring admits that Yuji a mostly selfless person still demonstrates an indomitable will that Sukuna can't break no matter how hard he tries.

If Sukuna represents the thesis that the only way to become strong is to throw away all your humanity and become wildly selfish, then Kusakabe represents the antithesis as a mostly normal person (if a bit cowardly and self interest) who somehow climbed the ranks over people like Mei Mei who represent the kind of selfish monster Sukuna is.

This is actually the pattern for most of the Sukuna fights this arc too. Gojo and Hajime both represent the desire to be understood, and Sukuna rejects both love and says he doesn't need people to understand him because he understands himself.

Yuji is a human who is mostly selfless, and has inherited the curse of his fellow comrades as sorcerers, specifically carrying on the torch for Nanami who is also content to be a cog in the machine if it means he can help his fellow sorcerers out. Sukuna is a selfish monster, who is an individualist and sees other people as toys to amuse himself with.

Higuruma is a genius on the level of Gojo Satoru, but when challenged by Sukuna he ends up sacrificing himself instead in a direct parallel to Nanami in order to pass the torch onto Yuji.

Yuta's domain is literally called "authentic and mutual love" and Sukuna said to Hajime that he understands exactly what love is and he still rejects it. Sukuna's entire philosophy revolves around rejecting the love and friendship, while Yuta only fights for the sake of his friends, and can't believe that his life is worth living without people in his life who love him.

Sukuna gives a whole speech on how by rejecting cursed energy, and using a heavenly restriction to push her body to the peak of physical strength a human can achieve, she's forcing a role on Sukuna to compete with her as the peak of sorcery to determine which one is better.

Now it's Kusakabe turn to have a role in this fight too. While Maki has no cursed energy, she doesn't really represent humans because she's you know, a she-hulk. Kusakabe might be the most human character present that's willing to face down Sukuna. Kusakabe is the most human character someone who climbed this high without being born with any technique, Sukuna is the most inhuman monster in the series, a calamity that Yuji refers to as a true curse.

Gege even threw in these callbacks to Gojo panels.

That in itself might be foreshadowing that maybe Kusakabe stands a better chance against Sukuna then anyone in the audience thinks. As the number #1 Kusakabe stan, I'm definitely willing to bet on those odds!

#jjk meta #jjk 253 #jjk 253 spoilers #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen 253 #jujutsu kaisen 253 spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #atsuya kusakabe #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #gojo satoru #maki zenin #kasumi miwa

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astroboots · 6 months

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Heatwave

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Santiago and you try to occupy yourselves during another heatwave in Florida.

Rating: Explicit, edging, bratty-ass behavior from one Santiago.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you)

Word Count: 4,000

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' masterlist

At what point does a spiking high temperature no longer count as a heatwave and just becomes the new average temperature for the local area. Is it after the third or sixth heatwave in a month? And for that matter, how many record breaking high temperatures can one summer have in store for a state that is already known for its hot climate?

Fuck! Why did he move back here again?

Santiago is melting. Lying slumped against the cool flooring of the bedroom where the breeze reaches. He's stripped off his clothes, wearing nothing but his boxers and staying far away from any walls because they are fucking radiating heat. At one point he's pretty sure he saw the edges of the walls wobble from the inferno temperature raging outside... either that or his vision is blurring out on him.

It must be what? 150 degrees, 200?? He doesn't care what the weatherman is reporting, there's no fucking way it's only 110 out there.

Leaning his head back down on the cold wooden flooring for reprieve, he can't remember the last time Florida got so hot. (If it has, he hasn't been here to see it).

Shit, it must be even hotter than that time you drove him down to the airport, what was it now, ten or twelve years ago? It got so fucking hot that the radio was warning about staying away from the highway because the tarmac was at risk of melting.

No one in their right mind would've gone out on the road that day. Except you of course. In your shitty little Volvo, with a broken A/C and a clutch that creaked with every change of gear. It's lucky the old piece of junk made it to the airport at all, and nothing short of a miracle that you made it there in time.

He can still see it in his mind's eye. The way your hair was matted with sweat as you pulled up to the drop off point. Still remembers how his old t-shirt was glued to every inch of his sweaty back as he peeled himself off the passenger seat. How, even as disgusting as the two of you felt, drenched in sweat and smelling like two dumpster diving raccoons, having been trapped on the highway for over an hour in that heat, you had held onto his torso as if you were never going to let him go. Your pinkie wrapped around his, so tightly, he was sure the blood circulation was entirely cut off as you told him in no uncertain terms: "You better fucking come back home in one piece, Santiago."

A smile breaks out across his face at the memory. From a distance he can hear the familiar sound of your footfall from the hallway, followed by your voice echoing all the way upstairs as you call out for him.

"Santiagoooo!"

If it wasn't for the heat, he'd call back in response to you. But all the strength is zapped out of him. Plus, he suspects that the reason you're calling for him is to rope him into helping Frankie with the latest crazy home project the man's set on finishing this weekend (and in this heat Santiago's not going anywhere near that).

"Honey." The endearing nickname has him smiling even wider. His mouth parts, just about to respond to you when he hears the rest of your sentence.

"Frankie needs help sanding down the fence."

Bingo.

No way in hell he's responding now.

He can hear you opening and closing doors all over the house in search of him. You'll find him eventually, but it doesn't mean he's not going to take his time enjoying the last few moments of being in the safe shelter out of the sun.

There's a soft click as the door to the bedroom opens. From his limited view on the floor, he sees glimpses of your feet from the corner of his eyes as you march in front of him until you're standing above, looming over his form.

"Santiago. I was looking for you everywhere."

He lets the hand resting on his thigh slide down to the front of his boxers without thought and that catches your immediate attention.

There's a sharp and sudden inhale from you, as if the air is spiked. You look like you've forgotten how to breathe properly.

You liked that huh? The corner of his lips curl into a smile as he holds eye contact with you.

"Sorry, must've dozed off."

"Har, har. Stop lounging around half naked and acting like a thirst trap. Frankie needs help with the fence."

"It's 200 fucking degrees. I'm not going to do that. Frankie can finish his home improvement project when Armageddon isn't happening outside."

You shoot him a small frown. Arms crossing in front of your chest.

He pats the space on the floor right next to himself, as he continues. “Come lay down with me for a second to cool down. You look like you might be overheating. Don’t wanna get heatstroke or anything. Frankie can wait a few minutes.”

You don't move from the spot, making no move to join him. "Poor Frankie is doing all the work."

Santiago's itching to retort that there's nothing "poor" about Frankie's situation. Man is having the time of his life out there. He loves doing these projects.

But Santiago keeps his mouth shut. Because he knows if he doesn't, he'll inevitable set you two up for a back and forth of who's right and wrong, who wins and who's losing the argument, trying to one-up each other the rest of the afternoon. And it's not that Santiago doesn't absolutely love doing that with you but...

Peering up at you, the way your lips are swollen with heat and parted as you look at him, Santiago has a much better idea of how he wants to spend the rest of the afternoon with you.

"Just a little bit, sweetheart," he says, doing his best to sweet talk you as he pats his free hand over the same spot on the floor in invitation. "Come sit with me for one minute, and I promise I'll go help Frankie okay?"

Glancing over your shoulder, you throw a quick glance over the window, probably to check in on Frankie.

"Just a minute, okay?"

"Mhmm. Just one."

It doesn't take more persuasion from him than that. Next thing he knows, you're walking over to him. Soft steps and an even softer gaze in your eyes. Then you sink down on the floor and sit down on the spot right where he patted.

That was... surprisingly easy.

He'd expected more resistance from you. Was fully prepared to do a filibuster marathon to try to convince you to join him. Hadn't quite expected you to just... give into him the way you just did. He blinks up in surprise, at your face mere inches away from him. He's not fully sure what just happened. You've never turned down an opportunity to put up a fight with him before.

You stare down at his chest and bare stomach, lingering there. You swallow down reflexively as you take him in with heated eyes.

Huh...

Santiago knows the effect he has on women. He just never knew he had that effect on you.

As arrogant as it sounds, he knows he's a good looking man. Knows that he's charming to boot. But the relationship between the two of you, for all the love that you had held for each other, had always remained platonic back in the day. You don't look at him the way other women do. And Santiago doesn't flirt with you the way he does with other women. Those were the unspoken rules you two had set for each other from the start and it's all you two have ever known.

And while things have changed now. While Santiago's seen the heated looks you give him when he's in bed with you, your relationship has remained largely unchanged outside of it.

You still pull him up on his bullshit when he's earned it. Never hesitate to square up with him in a competition for anything.

This... This is new.

He taps his bare thigh, almost experimentally to test his theory. He doesn't miss the way your pupils dilate with interest, and as always he can't resist the urge to goad you.

Not when you're eyeing him so appreciatively, in a way that you've never done in the past in all your years of friendships until recently. He figures he's earned the right after all this time to be a little bit obnoxious and revel and preen in the attention from you.

"Cariño," he calls out, until your eyes pulls back up to his face. "Eyes up here," he teases.

You roll your eyes, smacking him in the chest. It's supposedly a playful gesture, but you do it with enough strength that it knocks the breath out of him.

"I know," you retort, but your eyes drift back to his chest and then continue downwards and the attention has heat spearing through his limbs.

"You're still looking," he teases, and his hand snakes down over the plane of his thighs, reveling in your attentive gaze. "Didn't know you were such a perv."

By now you'd usually retaliate or cuss him out, but you don't.

Instead, you continue to stare, eyes blown wide as if you've been cast under a spell, mesmerized.

He palms himself through the front of his boxers, and he can feel the rush of blood rushing down and away from his head as his cock stirs to hardness. If Santiago was considered full of himself before this, it's nothing compared to how he feels in this moment with the way you're looking at him. Your expression blank, like the sight of him has made you lose your ability to speak. Mouth parted, the glistening pink of your tongue peeking out, as if you would devour him if he'd let you.

"Should I give you a show then?" he asks.

After all, if you want to look, he's more than happy to give you something proper to look at.

You nod with an eagerness that has your head bouncing up and down like the bopping bobble head toy Frankie keeps on the dashboard. Santiago lets out a laugh that's more breathless than he had expected from himself. He blames it on the heat.

Dragging down the edge of his boxers, he keeps his eyes on yours as his fingers wrap around the base of himself and his cock jumps in response to the touch.

Shit, that's good. A sweet spike of pleasure runs through him at the languid touch, and he feels breathless with it. His cock is slick with precome that drips down the length with each slide of his hand.

Running his hand up the rigid length, the calloused skin graze against the sensitive skin. Pleasure ooze and drips inside his chest and down his limbs, until his legs tremble with it. Santiago's touched himself countless times before but it's never felt like this before.

Maybe it's the heat that's getting to him. Or maybe it's the way you're inching closer with each passing second until you're practically straddling him on his lap. You and your soft and perfect thighs pressing down on his own, keeping him pinned onto the floor as he tries to keep going. The heat he can feel from between your legs, through the thin layer of cotton that's pressed onto his bare skin. Yeah... maybe it's that.

Santiago goes slow and languid as he touches himself for your benefit. And as ridiculous as it sounds it is for you. Because if it wasn't for you, there's no chance in hell he'd be going this slowly. He'd be fast and almost sloppy, squeezing down on his cock until the desperate need that's riding his spine lets go with his climax. If you weren't here, gorgeous eyes all focused on him, with a look that he wouldn't even let himself dream of in the past, he wouldn't want to prolong it the way he is.

Even now, with the strained effort of taking it as slow as he can possibly stand, he's not entirely sure how long he'll last. He feels like he's on a precarious edge, his climax taunting him, swelling up and simmering with a slow burn in his stomach.

Your torso tilts forward, squirming in his lap, with the tiniest movement every time his hand moves upwards, in time with his strokes.

You're practically riding his thigh, and Jesus fucking christ, that isn't helping Santiago's situation right now. At this point you're both going to come dry humping each other like horny clueless Mormons on their wedding night.

"Sweetheart, wait--" he tries, but you press yourself down on his thigh all the same, and he can feel your sweet slick drip down on his thigh and coat him with it. All he's capable of is a deep and shameless moan.

His cock twitches in his hand, and for several alarming seconds, Santiago thinks that's it. That it's already too late and he's going to come right then and there, spilling himself all over his hand and stomach.

Santiago squeezes down hard around the base of his cock to stave off the needy sensation.

"Shit," he hisses. "Fuck. fuck. Sweetheart, gonna need you to--" he doesn't finish his sentence. Can't spare the seconds it would take to properly think. One hand is already reaching out under your dress (thank god you're wearing a dress) wedging your panties to the side, his other pulling you closer by your waist until your pussy is lined up with the swollen head of his cock.

He doesn't even have time to move his hand in place to grip at his cock before you push down on him. Heat streaks through his insides until his lungs feels like they're burning. Your perfect pussy envelops all of him, every single throbbing aching inch with slick warmth and perfect pressure until his vision whites out.

Fuck, why is he so fucking sensitive.

He can't... fuck, he can't hold on. A desperate groan tears out of his throat and he buries his face into your neck to hide from the sensation that has him surrounded.

He thrusts upwards, canting his hips until you're taking all of him.

Pleasure singes his entire spine, and it burns him alive with it. The heat is unbearable, sweat is plastered to his back, but it doesn't matter. Santiago's skin is damp and sticky, but he's still pressing you closer. Wants every inch of you, warm and gorgeous and so fucking soft, pressed against him in every way he can have you, and he's still not sure if that'd be enough.

Wants to make up for every year, hour, minute and second that he'd wasted of his life, being away from you. Wants all of that even if it kills him.

Planting his feet on the wooden floor for leverage, he grabs your hips to force you down as far as you can take him. Until your head throws back with a high-pitched whine, palms pushing down on his chest as if it's too much for you to handle, and he lets go, sinking down his hips back towards the floor, until only the tip of him rests inside you.

He gives you a handful of seconds to catch your breath. Then he grabs your waist and push you down on his cock. Again, and again. To the gorgeous sounds of your keen moans and whines all blended into one, as you're sobbing out his name.

Forceful, deep thrusts that has tears pushing in the corner of your eyes. He keeps going as the sweet aching heat has him drunk and euphoric on you, with each and every rise and cant of his hips.

He's not going to last. Shit, shit, he's not going to last like this.

But that's okay. Because judging from the way you're grinding against him. Needy and desperate. Your cunt squeezing so tight around his cock it makes it hard to breathe, you're not going to last either.

His hand strays down below your stomach, sliding between your legs until his thumb catches at your clit, slippery and wet, and absolutely dripping for him. You sob at the contact, wracked in shivers as he continues to rub smooth little circles over it, and he can feel just how close you are.

You're perfect. Eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back in surrender, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat and oh fuck Santiago was not prepared for this.

His brain stalls out, hand stopping as his movements comes to a still to take in the sight before him because...You are so fucking beautiful like this.

"Santiago, what the fuck, make me—" you're slapping his shoulder, voice high pitched and desperate that makes his spine tingle as you grind on him. "Fuck make me cum, don't be an ass."

Fuck what is he doing?

Santiago's not sure. Not sure why he's stopped, even as every nerve and muscle in him is screaming for him to chase after the pleasure until both of you are coming.

Not sure why he's just sitting there dumbfounded. Except, this is everything he's wanted for so long that he's denied himself and he realizes that right now— it's here, landed in his very lap. You're the woman he's loved for so long, no matter how much he's denied it to himself, and he just wants to make this moment last.

All he knows is that he doesn't want this to end.

"Wait, sweetheart," he murmurs, even as you squirm from his grip pinning you in place. "Just give me a second. Want to remember this," and he means it with more sincerity than he ever thought he had left in him as he stares up at you in complete awe.

He wants it to last.

Not just out of a ill-placed sense of pride. Not just because he knows you're going to give him shit for coming too fast.

He just wants this to last. Wants you in his arms like this. Wants you to look at him, just like this, like you need him to survive, more than your next breath. This. This. This. He wants it to last forever.

You don't listen to him though. Of course you don't, because you never make it that easy for him. Your hips roll against him, grinding with desperation until his cock nudges something devastatingly perfect that has him convinced his brain is melting.

Shit, he has to stop. Oh fuck oh fuck, he's too close—

"Stop stop," he warns, hand gripping down on your hips to stop you "Boa, Stop— fuck you're gonna make me—"

But it's too late. It's already happening. He can feel his cock pulse and throb as he spills himself inside of you, shuddering through his orgasm— and fuck this was not how it was supposed to go down.

Everything slows. It's everywhere, rushing through him with a chaotic frenzy as it wrings him dry. The euphoric sensation overcrowding everything else, and his head feels like he is going to split with it. He can't think. Can't breathe.

But even in his post-cum haze he knows you still haven't come and he can't have that.

Santiago grits through it. Biting down and clenching on his jaw to ride through the over-brimming sensation that threatens to burst out of his skin as he continues to thrust into you.

Oversensitive and overstimulated. Every slick slide of your perfect pussy has him gasping for air. It's too much. Like live wires are running through his skin and every cant of your hips against him sets every receptor in his brain on overdrive. His cock is so sensitive, he can feel every fraction of you wrapped around him.

And it's perfect and it's good. And it's just so fucking much.

You're burning hot. He feels feverish and on the brink of delirium from the heat. Like he's inside a live furnace, but he doesn't want to stop. Can't stop. Not until he's seen your eyes roll into the back of your head. Not until you've come apart for him.

Locking his arm over the small of your back, he flips you over, onto your back. Pushing his free hand between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing rough little circles on your clit again.

He keeps going, pushing inside even as every nerve at him is screaming for respite. Santiago doesn't stop though. You're so close, and he just has to hold on even as each flutter and squeeze of your cunt is pushing him over the edge of too much.

Doesn't stop even as your gorgeous eyelashes flutter dramatically, your eyes rolling back as you kick your leg out and finally, finally comes on his cock.

The sensation of your climax punches the last breath out of him. He can hear himself whine pathetically into your neck.

The overwhelming tightness of you, your pussy squeezing and clenching down over and over, as if you're trying to wring and empty him out of anything he has left him. It brings him to his knees and collapses into you.

Everything feels sticky and clammy. Both of you drenched, as he's pinning you down with his weight. He feels weightless and heavy all at the same time. It doesn't make sense and shouldn't even be possible. But it certainly didn't help him in his efforts to move

To the protest of his exhausted limbs, Santiago rolls over to lay on his back next to you there on the floor. Both of you sweaty and panting.

God this might have been a bad idea.

It was too fucking hot even before all the physical exertion, now it's like an inferno. He's seconds from passing out. But at least the floor is marginally cooler against his back than the surrounding air, while you're laying there catching their breath.

Every inch of him thrums with pleasure, and his body practically tingles with the afterglow of his climax. But he can't help the scowl on his face. He's mentally cringing.

He came too fast.

Shot his load like some overeager virgin.

And there's no fucking way you wouldn't have noticed that he came before you. It's only a matter of you catching your breath, before you start giving him shit about it.

He lies there, staring up at the ceiling, preemptively trying to come up with some kind of defense or comeback but nothing comes to him. The only thing that fills his head is the image of your eyes from seconds ago, gazing down on him, looking at him the way that deep down, through all those years of platonic friendship, for all the way he's tried to repressed it, he's always wanted you to look at him.

It's so fucking stupid, but his stomach flutters pleasantly at the memory.

"Hey, Santiago...?"

He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face trying desperately to pull himself together. Because even though he knows it's coming. Right now he feels too naked and raw, without protection to brace himself at whatever joke you're sure to make next at his expense.

Feels a little bit too exposed after that perfect moment of having everything he never let himself acknowledge that he wanted right there in his arms.

He swallows, bracing himself for the witty remark, as he responds to you with a weak, "Yeah?"

You don't say anything.

Instead, he feels just the barest touch against his hand, and he looks down. Your fingers slides against the heel of his hand, searching for his hand before you find his pinkie and curl around it. He drags his eyes back towards your face and you have the softest smile on your sweaty, gorgeous face.

"I'm glad you're here," you say, there's no sarcasm there. Your voice is soft and quiet, and so sincere.

He doesn't know what is happening to him but his chest constricts and is drawn so tight it's painful. And suddenly he's blinking back tears. Call him dramatic, but for a brief moment Santiago swears the chest pains are a sign of cardiac arrest, until you grip his pinkie tighter and the pain eases.

"Yeah...." Santiago nods. Has to clear his throat before he can get the rest of the words out from the lump that is lodged in his throat. "Yeah, me too. Sweetheart. Me too."

Sweat sticks to his back, and the heat is unbearable. But he doesn't want to move. Doesn't ever want to leave this spot with you lying next to him.

He'll never admit it out loud. But he knows why even though he hates Florida with every inch of his soul, he'll always find his way back here. Why no matter how far away he goes, a part of him will always be left behind here. A long long time ago in the drop off zone of Miami International, on a disgusting hot and sweaty day just like today, he made a promise. He promised that he'll always came back home to you.

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproiblemss who came up with that DEVASTATING concept of the pinkie holding post-sex.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oscar isaac #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader x frankie morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal

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2000ghosts · 3 months

Text

may 5, 2007

#flickr #2007 #cat #pets #animal #cat show #competition #cute #washington #usa #flash photography #found photography #old web #webcore #search term: average

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upthebluess · 4 months

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Up to Standards (Arsenal Women Academy Story) Part 3

In which you get your Arsenal Academy debut and get a visit from a guest.

You were training with Arsenal 3 times a week, played a match every Saturday and went to a recovery session straight after. It was intense.

Luckily, the girls were as nice as Peter had reassured, and you’d fit in better than you originally expected.

Your mum had been working extremely hard to get you an agent, and was currently working on terms to get you signed with volante sports.

Everything seemed perfect, until Saturday came round.

Nerves. An overwhelming amount.

It was your first game day with the gunners, and you felt drastically more apprehensive on the day than you had throughout the week.

“No Mum, I’m serious. I can’t play” you uttered to her in the car, clad out in your full arsenal kit.

“Of course you can” she responded without taking her eyes off the road.

“No, I can’t.” You hadn’t experienced anxiety like this in years.

You always knew at Fulham that you were one of the best players, but at arsenal, you were average. If you made a mistake here, you feared that your coaches would regret all the money they spent on your transfer.

“Do you have two feet?” Your mother asked.

“Yes”

“Then you can play” she explained, and you let out a defeated sigh. It was clear she wasn’t gonna turn the car around.

Eventually, you pulled into London Colony and parked the car. “Look, Y/N. Arsenal brought you here because they saw how well you could play, all you need to do now is show them again. Even if you don’t today, your contract gives you six months before it’s reviewed again. That’s a lot of games to show what you’re made of.”

You finally managed a small but genuine smile and you felt a few of the butterflies disappear.

“Thanks, Mum.”

“Now off you go, I’ll come out to watch later when you kick off because there’s no way I’m standing outside in the cold for an extra 30 minutes.”

You picked up your backpack from the floor and hopped out of the car, having to dodge the puddles as you were still in your sliders (muddy boots were completely banned from the car at this point).

You pulled your phone out your bag and checked the pitch info which read:

PITCH 2, KO 14:00, MEET AT 1:30

Pitch 2, where the hell was that?

“Y/N, you’re going the wrong way!”

Your head was turned to see one of your teammates calling your name. You ran to catch up with her, stepping in multiple puddles as you did so.

“You really should watch where you walk” Eliza stated, letting out a chuckle at your soaked socks and you inability to remember directions.

“Yeah, I know.”

The two of you hadn’t really spoke before. Eliza was a centre back, you a midfielder. Although maybe it was better to interact with people of different positions, they were less of a threat to your place on the team.

“You nervous? Big first game.” Eliza asked. Your first game with the team was against Manchester City. They were a big club with high standards but were mostly known for their work off the ball. They would be constantly pressing to try and win the possession back.

“I’m terrified to be honest, once it starts I think I’ll be ok though” you admitted to her, as you passed a gate labelled pitch 2.

You were right on time, but most of the girls had already arrived. Coach Louise sent you straight into an extensive warm up, which had the whole team more out of breath than an actual game would.

At 13:55, you were huddled for a team talk. The captain, Freya, spoke about how we needed to manage their press effectively and remain composed on the ball. If we made the pitch bigger, the ball would do the work.

“1,2,3 Arsenal!” You all chanted and dispersed from the circle.

You were playing centre-mid and starting the game. But as you made your way into position, the nerves returned. Frantically, you scanned the parents section searching for your mum.

There she was, with her bobble hat and scarf. She gave you a cheesy smile and a thumbs up, phone in her other hand, presumably to send pictures to the family group-chat.

The game started off rocky. City had majority of possession and were showing no signs of losing that, as they continually worked the ball out from the back.

Eventually, they made a loose pass into the centre circle and you picked it up immediately. With a quick scan, you immediately knew you needed to drive forwards. Since they’d been playing from their keeper, their centre backs were split and a huge gap was left down the middle.

Within seconds, you were aware the defenders would be on you. Multiple teammates were shouting for the ball, but you took a shot. The first shot of the game.

Your boot dug under the ball, lifting it up in attempt to chip the keeper, who remained off her line. You watched it fly into the air but it it seemed too high at first to go in. A few of your fellow arsenal teammates turned around to go back into position, assuming a goal kick would be given. But it was dipping, and dipping quickly. Right as it reached the goal, it fell to the grass and rolled into the net.

1-0.

You ran in the direction of your mum and punched the air in celebration. Sure enough, she was recording. That’d definitely be on Facebook later.

All your teammates jumped on your back and your coaches high fived each other. Just like that, the nerves were gone.

The rest of the game flew by. The team scored a second from a corner before city put one tap in past your keeper. Then, for an awful tackle in the box, you were awarded a penalty in the dying minutes. It wasn’t going to be a winning pen if it was scored, but it would prevent another city goal (if they got one) from equalising the game.

You didn’t yet know who was a penalty taker for this team. It was usually you when you played for Fulham, but you watched Eliza pick up the ball and place it on the spot. She took it immediately after the whistle was blown and blasted it bottom left.

3-1. Full time.

What a pen, you muttered under your breath.

You shook hands with everyone, listened to the team talk once again and accepted the congratulations from your coaches.

“Right everyone, in a moment you’ll be free to go but there was someone else watching you play who wanted to say a few words.”

Vivianne Miedema emerged from the crowd of parents looming at the gate. She had her hands in her pockets but removed them to take down her hood.

“I’m not very good with speeches or anything but I felt I couldn’t not say something after that performance. You all dominated the game in every aspect and your determination to higher the score line really stood out to me. You should all be really proud of yourselves.” Viv spoke.

She hesitantly looked at your coach. Bless her, she’s as awkward as she seems, you thought.

“Do you have a player of the match for us?” Louise questioned.

“Uh, number 8. That goal was great and the composure it must’ve taken was even better.”

“Ah, a player of the match and a goal for our debutant. Thank you for coming, Viv. Right everyone off you go. Well done today.” Louise dismissed you all.

Everyone cleared off the field pretty quick, apart from you. Due to your Mums ‘no boot in the car’ rule, you were sat on the wet grass taking your boots off and replacing them with sliders.

Louise had picked up the corner flags and was walking towards you with Viv, they were good friends as Louise also worked as a physiotherapist when needed.

“Louise tells me your feeling a bit of pressure. You sure didn’t show it.” Viv said casually once they reached you again.

“Yeah, I just moved here from Fulham, they expect a lot from me here.” you slung your backpack onto your shoulder and stood. “Any advice?”

“Use the pressure to drive you further, all nerves do are make you work harder and perform with more precision. Carry on like you did today and you’ll have no problems.” She gave you a sincere smile and stuffed her hands back into her pockets.

“Thanks” you looked over to your mum and then back to Viv and Louise.

“Well off you go then, don’t keep her waiting.” Louise chuckled at the silence that somehow had formed and sent you on your way.

Back at home, you were writing away silently in your room trying to figure out how photosynthesis worked for a biology test, when your Mum barged into your room.

“You’re signed! Volante signed you. We are meeting with them on Tuesday. I get to bring out the fancy plates!” She exclaimed, the biggest grin on her face.

“They’re coming here?”

“Yes! Would you rather sign with Nike or Adidas? What will you spend your first pay check on? Where will you-” your mum sat down on your bed as she got carried away with excitement

“Calm down, it’s just an agency. Most girls probably already have one.” you tried to dull down her joy, but secretly you were as ecstatic as her.

“Yes but they didn’t score a banger on their arsenal debut.”

That was true.

As you looked over the framed photographs that plastered your walls later that night, you started to wonder which Fulham ones would soon be replaced with Arsenal ones. You actually found yourself wanting to go to training, and wanting to see your teammates.

Could arsenal really take you all the way to the WSL?

Everybody else but you seems to think so, even Vivianne Miedema.

A/N

Sorry this was a little rushed but at leat it’s something. More parts soon😊. Hope everyone had a Happy New year!!

L🫶

#arsenal wfc #woso x reader #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc x reader #vivianne miedema

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kp777 · 6 months

Text

By Thom Hartmann

Common Dreams

Nov. 16, 2023

What baffles me is why a TV news personality who earns $2.9 million a year would go to such lengths to avoid even mentioning a solution that’s been signed onto repeatedly by virtually every Democrat in Congress for over a decade.

Why did NBC’s Kristen Welker use an incomplete frame for her question about Social Security at last week’s GOP debate, and why didn’t Lester Holt or anybody else correct her?

Here’s her question:

KRISTEN WELKER: “Americans could see their Social Security benefits drastically cut in the next decade because the program is running out of money. Former President Trump has said quote, ‘Under no circumstances should Republicans cut entitlements.’ Governor Christie, first to you, you have proposed raising the retirement age for younger Americans. What would that age be specifically, and would you consider making any other reforms to Social Security?”

The simple reality is that if a person earns $160,200 a year or less, they pay a 6.2% tax on all of their income. In other words, a person making exactly $160,200 pays $9,932.40 (6.2%) in Social Security taxes.

If you earn $12,000 a year, $56,000 a year, $98,000 a year, or anything under $160,200 a year, you also pay 6.2 cents of tax toward Social Security on every single dollar you earn. If you made $10,000 last year, you pay $620 in Social Security taxes: 6.2 percent. Like the old saying about death and taxes, you can’t avoid it.

BUT those people who make over $160,200 a year pay absolutely nothing — no tax whatsoever — to fund Social Security on every dollar they earn over that amount. After Warren Buffett or Mark Zuckerberg or Jeff Bezos pay their $9,932.40 in Social Security taxes on that first $160,200 they took home on the first day of January, every other dollar they take home for the rest of the year is completely Social Security tax-free.

If somebody makes $1,602,000, for example, it would seem fair that, like every other American, they’d pay the same 6.2% ($99,324) in Social Security taxes. But, no: they only pay the $9,932.40 and after that they get to ride tax-free.

If somebody earned $16,020,000 it would seem fair that they’d pay the same 6.2% to support Social Security as 96 percent of Americans do, but no. Instead of paying $1,004,400 in taxes, they only pay $9,932.40.

Hedge fund guys who make a billion a year — yes, there are several of them — can certainly afford to pay 6.2% to keep Social Security solvent. At that rate, they’d be paying $62 million on a billion-dollar income in Social Security taxes as their fair share of maintaining America’s social contract.

But, because the tax rate is capped to “protect” the morbidly rich while sticking the rest of us with the full bill for Social Security, those titans of Wall Street pay the same $9,932.40 as the doctor who lives down the street from you and earns $160,200 a year.

This is, to use the economic technical term, nuts.

And, while every wealthy person in America knows all about this because it’s such a huge benefit to them, I’ll bet fewer than five percent of Americans know how this scam for the rich works. (I searched diligently, but couldn’t find a single survey that asked average folks if they knew about the cap.)

There is no other tax in America that works like this. Most have loopholes designed to promote specific socially desirable goals, like the deductibility of home mortgage interest or children, but no other tax is designed so that anybody earning over $160,200 is completely exempt and no longer has to pay a penny after their first nine thousand or so dollars.

And here’s where it gets really bizarre: if millionaires and billionaires paid the exact same 6.2% into Social Security that most of the rest of us do (and paid it on their investment income, which is also 100% exempt today), the program would not only be solvent for the next 75 years, but it would have so much extra cash that everybody on Social Security could get a significant raise in their monthly benefit payments.

But because America’s morbidly rich don’t want to pay their share for keeping Social Security solvent, Republicans are having a debate about how badly they can screw working class retirees.

They ask:

“Shall we cut the Social Security payments?”

“How about raising the retirement age from 67 (Reagan raised it from 65 to 67) to 70 or even 72?”

“Or maybe we should just hand the entire thing off to JPMorgan or Wells Fargo and let them run it, like we’re doing with Medicare? We could call it Social Security Advantage!”

“Or how about turning Social Security into a welfare program by ‘means testing’ it, so rich people can’t draw from it and every budget year it can become a political football for the GOP like food stamps or WIC?”

Responding to Welker’s severely incomplete question, Chris Christie hit all four:

GOVERNOR CHRISTIE: “Sure, and we have to deal with this problem. Now look, if we raise the retirement age a few years for folks that are in their thirties and forties, I have a son who’s in the audience tonight who’s 30 years old. If he can’t adjust to a few year increase in Social Security retirement age over the next 40 years, I got bigger problems with him than his Social Security payments. “And the fact is we need to be realistic about this. There are only three things that go into determining whether Social Security can be solvent or not. Retirement age, eligibility for the program in general, and taxes. That’s it. We are already overtaxed in this country and we should not raise those taxes. But on eligibility also, I don’t know if out there tonight and if you’re watching Warren, I don’t know if Warren Buffett is collecting Social Security, but if he is, shame on you. You shouldn’t be taking the money.”

Christie was the only one of the five Republicans on the stage who even dared mention taxes.

Nikki Haley said:

“So first of all, any candidate that tells you that they’re not going to take on entitlements, is not being serious. Social Security will go bankrupt in 10 years, Medicare will go bankrupt in eight.”

Neither of those assertions are even remotely true, but, of course, this was a GOP debate. She continued:

“But for like my kids in their twenties, you go and you say we’re going to change the rules, you change the retirement age for them. Instead of cost of living increases, we should go to increases based on inflation. We should limit benefits on the wealthy.”

Her other solution, apropos of nothing, was to end government responsibility for Medicare and privatize the entire program by shutting down real Medicare and throwing us all to the tender mercies of the health insurance billionaires:

“And then expand Medicare Advantage plans. Seniors love that and let’s make sure we do that so that they can have more competition. That’s how we’ll deal with entitlement reform and that’s how we’ll start to pay down this debt.”

Ramaswamy’s answer was so incoherent and off-topic I won’t repeat it here. Suffice it to say he rambled on about the cost of foreign wars (Ukraine, Israel) “that many blood-thirsty members of both parties have a hunger for.” Apparently, Vivek doesn’t realize that Social Security isn’t part of our government’s overall budget but has its own segregated funds and trust fund.

Since it’s creation in 1935, Social Security never has and never will contribute to the budget deficit or influence any other kind of government spending.

Tim Scott said we should take a cue from Reagan, Bush, and Trump and just cut billionaires’ income taxes again because that does such a great job of stimulating the economy (not) and then claw back the inflation-based raises people on Social Security have received the past three years.

“Number two, you have to cut taxes. … So what we know is that the Laffer Curve still works, for the lower the tax, the higher the revenue. And finally, if we’re going to deal with it, we have to take our annual appropriations back to pre-2020, pre-COVID levels of spending, which would save us about a half a trillion dollars in the next budget window. By doing that, we deal with Social Security and our mandatory spending.”

DeSantis was equally incoherent, also refusing to answer the question about raising the retirement age and completely avoiding any mention of the sweetheart deal his billionaire donors get on their Social Security taxes. Instead, he said we needed to get inflation under control and stop Congress from “taking money from Social Security,” something Congress has never done and legally never will be able to do.

All this incoherence aside, Republicans appear to have a plan to deal with Social Security.

House Speaker MAGA Mike Johnson has been pushing a “Catfood Commission” just like Reagan’s 1983 commission that raised the retirement age to 67, reaffirmed the cap on taxes, and made Social Security checks taxable as income. He no doubt expects his commissioners will provide “recommendations” Republicans can run with to cut benefits without raising taxes on their billionaire donors, all while blaming it on the commissioners just like Reagan did in 1983.

When Johnson said that his “top priority” was creating such a commission “immediately” and that his Republican colleagues had responded to the idea “with great enthusiasm,” Democrats on the House Ways and Means Committee responded on Xitter:

“A week into his tenure, MAGA Mike Johnson is ALREADY calling for closed-door cuts to the Social Security and Medicare benefits American workers have earned through decades of hard work.”

But back to the original question. I understand why Republicans refuse to even consider lifting the cap on Social Security taxes so their morbidly rich donors won’t have to start paying their fair share of Social Security to keep the program solvent.

I’ve been watching Kristen Welker on television for years, and she’s generally been a pretty straight shooter as a reporter. Ditto for Lester Holt, who sat right beside her. This, frankly, astonished me.

Were they afraid Republicans would exact revenge on them if they raised the question of the tax cap?

Or was it precisely because they’re making millions, just like most of the executives they answer to?

More broadly, is this why we almost never hear any discussion whatsoever in the media — populated with other news stars who also make millions a year, managed by millionaire network executives — about lifting the cap?

One hopes the answer isn’t that crass...

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#social security #social security tax #social safety net #republicans #republican party #corporate media #journalism #2024 presidential election

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night-rook · 2 years

Text

Word Count: 1,309

Reader Type: Gender Neutral

Story Type: Twisted Wonderland

Beware: Angst, Mentions of Death

Summary: Everyone misses you. but Grim misses you the most.

Key terms: n/a

Rook’s Notes: I've felt pretty down lately, and this happened.

Grim looked around the spacious bedroom. He jumped onto the queen size bed and claimed his usual spot on the right side. Softly he pawed the empty pillow by him. A downhearted purr echoed through the room as his small paw patted the dusty cushion. The burning sensation itching his cyan eyes only worsen.

"I am just a kitten. Hardly fit my mittens." Grim hoarsely purred while curling up on the pillow. Laying his head on the cushion rather than his paw, "Much too small, I figure. One day I'll be bigger…"

The nonsense residents of Heartslabyul didn't have their unbirthdays as cheerful. Their desserts weren't as sweet anymore as Trey had slowly lost his sense to bake. He would often make a few treats to distract himself, but those baked goods didn't hold the same flavor as they once did. Cater continued his social appearance, but the ginger would find himself in the rose garden when left alone. He would pick roses and paint them (color), not paying mind if he got in trouble as (color) seemed so beautiful than the dreadful red or empty white. Riddle would be held up in his room most of the time. Reading to himself before speaking out loud, he stopped himself multiple times when not receiving an answer from his commentary. "One day I'll be a great big kitty cat. Uses open windows to go from flat to flat."

Savanaclaw reverted to their old ways. No more socializing with weaklings or non-beastmen. Leona rather spent time in his dorm than in the garden, claiming the grass was too itchy. The plants were damaging his senses as his eyes would water. Jack's workout routine kept him active as he continued to train. However, he would stop every once in a while to catch his breath before snapping out of his daze with a light scowl. The mischievous Ruggie didn't pull pranks as the childish acts didn't cheer his sour mood without someone to help. Even the taste of donuts was bitter when he ate alone in the cafeteria.

Azul looked at the quiet lounge and signed at the empty seat by him. The paperwork is seemingly endless without an extra hand, especially when the help would distract him when he got frustrated. Tucked away in the forest, Jade quietly hiked through nature as his eyes scanned the ground. he tilted his head slightly to look behind him but shifted his eyes back to the ground in search of mushroom, not enjoying the lone hike as he used to. Floyd stared at the ceiling of his room while the a deep frown on his face. Bringing the shrimp plush towards him, the usually mischievous boy feels more tired than normal.

As lively as the halls of Scarabia, Kalim felt void of light. He could seem to hold his smile for longer than a minute, his dormmates noticing the lack of energy when he walked the halls. Jamil lost his sense of excessing and revolted back to his tucked-away nature of being average. His dancing becomes more intense as he ignores their memories and cheers.

"I am just a kitten. Hardly fit my mittens. Much too small, I figure. One day I'll be bigger. One day I'll be all grown up and strong."

The three beauties of Pomefiore grew bored without their admiring fan. Vil didn't have the usual urge to shop and dare he say- he lost the appeal to maintain his beauty routine when he passed a mirror. Rook grew bored as the students all looked dull to him, none appealing to his standards anymore. Epel slowly lost his nerve to bother working out and bite his tongue on makeup, covering up the bags under his eyes from sleepless nights.

Keyboard keys echoed the poorly lit room while the screen flashed with bright colors. Idia emptily stared at the computer while he built his character, focusing his entire mind on making the little icon identical. Ortho sat in the corner of the room as he built a hologram. Using every part of his memory software to mimic their voice so the brothers could have comfort during their hard days.

Diasomia shut itself away once more after the dreadful day. Lilia turned from being teasing and playful to forever strict. He stop being friendly when his closest friend left him alone. The usual loud mouth Sebek turned rather quiet as days went by, being rather more reserved. The quiet Silver revolted back to his old self of being distant and focused on his Knight training, however, the dull ache in his chest would hurt when he looked towards the clock. Reminding himself that he would need to take a break after hearing the small voice that haunts him. Malleus sighed during his nightly walk. He lost interest in interacting with the student body, the need to silence the thoughts growing with each passing day after losing his companion.

"But until then, I'll just purr and sing along."

Deuce and Ace both looked at one another as they heard the feline's broken purrs. The redhead pressed his back against the doorframe while humming to the purrs. He closed his eyes while faintly hearing the words to the small lullaby in his head. The ravenette listened to his friend hum as he sat down on the floor. Every night. They would hear you sing that lullaby without fail, as silly as it was that was the only way for Grim to fall asleep. The pair knew this and it hurt. Your absence had created a great void in their hearts. In everyone's hearts.

Ramshackle hasn't felt like home. Its clean halls had collect dust over time as the common room had a cloth over the furniture for no one dared clean. The once rowdy dorm had turned muted that even the ghosts found it too eerie. All the other dorms felt the effect of the absence as time went by.

Your absence bought great grief to everyone, but Grim had to worse impact. He had all his memories with you from the best funniest ones to the scary frightening ones. The warmth that once radiated from your desk chair grew cold after a week and caused him to move to the bed. He would avoid your side as much as possible, remember how you would hold him close at night. However, he misses your arms around him. He misses listening to your heartbeat after a hard day of class.

He remembers seeing you study on your desk every day while he slacked off. The first time you sang that stupid lullaby. You were humming while writing down notes, while he ate away at his tuna. The feline ears twitched when he heard your light meowing. Tilting his head he popped up beside you, catching your attention.

"Huh? What's wrong?"

He said nothing but stare at you. A blud went off in your eyes before you picked him up and set him down on your lap, running a hand through his fur as you went back to humming. The silly song was his comfort every day and night because you would always smile while humming it.

It was your humming that bought him back when he overblobbed. It was the lullaby that woke him up when you called out to him. It was your smile that forever haunts him when remembers his jaw opening.

Grim let out a weak cry as he buried himself into your old pillow. Wishing wholeheartedly that you come back to him. Promising to the night sky that he would be better if it meant seeing you next to him. He would swear on his favorite cans of tuna that he was the good feline you proudly proclaimed.

"My little kitten.." He just wants to hear you call him one more time..

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst reader insert #twst grim #twst angst

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