#the bigotry runs too deep

[tiodolma]

Arthur: "What do you think Merlin, should magic have a place in Camelot?

Merlin, who has listened to Arthur make a valid case on how his life and kingdom are always threatened by magic; Merlin, who still keeps seeing sorcerers arrested and burned just for existing inside Camelot; Merlin, who's close friends who are all politically powerful regularly call sorcerers as "fanatics", "heretics", "deranged", "desperate" and "dangerous"; Merlin, who'd been told over and over again that his worries are "merely superstition" and "nonsense"; Merlin, who'd been mocked for having "funny feelings"; Merlin, who has seen Arthur steadfastly uphold his father's policies that All Magic is Evil; Merlin, who have been told repeatedly by major magic institutions that Mordred would murder the King; Merlin who has had first hand experience of prophetic visions always coming true; Merlin, who has chosen Arthur's safety over everything else, even over Merlin's freedom: "There can be no magic in Camelot."

[dcxdpdabbles]

Idea: same premise as Jazz being in Gotham with a deaged Danny and ending up dating Jason, but make it so Jazz is deaged and Danny ends up dating Cass

The first time Cass meets Danny is when he drops off his niece at the dance studio. She is filling in for a friend who typically volunteers as a ballerina instructor but has sprained her ankle in the last show together.

Since the program is meant to offer free classes for the children of low-income families, Cass feels it's important not to cancel classes as often as possible.

She doesn't even greet Danny as she's inside the studio with a group of five-year-olds, and he is out in the lobby.

He signs in Jazz at the front reception, talking to the employee there.

Danny hugs and kisses her cheek before the little girl runs inside to start her warm-up, leaving her father at the doorway of the dance room. Cass will admit she only notices him because he stares after the five-year-old with a smile and deep, wistful sadness in his body language.

Cass has seen enough in her night job to know that Jazz reminds Danny of someone he lost. He loves and adores the child but is constantly reminded of those long past. She has always been able to see someone in mourning, even when they hide it behind words.

The man stared for only a few seconds before he turned around and disappeared to the parking lot. Everyone else would have figured he was only making sure she had safely found a spot for her bag, but Cass could read him better than that.

The other had been traveling through memories as he watched the little girl laugh with her class friends.

Later, after the class is done and the children have all been picked up, she learns from the receptionist that Jazz is actually his sister's kid, who has died in childbirth. Danny had been appointed as her guardian, seeing as their parents had passed two years before, and no one knew who the father was. He had named the baby after the brave woman who had died only after making sure the baby had been born.

The man had moved to Gotham not too long ago, struggling to find work due to his meta-abilities. Lola, the gym receptionist, shook her head sadly. "Rumor has it the state is constantly trying to take Jazz from him. They claim it's to protect her, but we all know it's anti-meta bigotry."

Something about that struck a core with Cass. She, more than anyone, could tell when a father was a danger to his children. Danny's body language does not hint at anything but the love and protection of his niece. She had gone home to ask Babs and Tim to look into Danny's case.

It was worse than they thought, and Danny's continued guardship of Jazz was likely due to Gotham's corrupted system. Tim, head of the Gotham Knights Youth Program, was incredibly outraged that Danny and Jazz had likely not been separated because people in charge were purposely delaying the final outcome by trying to squeeze Danny for bribe money.

They could trace Danny forking over plenty of bribe money to have Jazz, along with several other families, for another month. This meant that he was always shot on his other bills, which did not do him any favors when trying to prove he could provide for Jazz, and the cycle started all over again.

Cass, Tim, and Babs all got to work on cracking down on this horrific shakedown. It would take them months to ensure everyone taking advantage of the system was taken out, and she had figured that other than running by their house as an Orphan, that was all the interaction she would have with the Fentons.

Tim had quickly offered Danny a position within Wayne Enterprises as a janitor and allowed Jazz to be placed in the company-provided childcare program. (Danny struggled to find work because he had no one to watch Jazz outside of school hours.). His new increase and guaranteed paycheck allowed Danny to keep making the br

Yet she found herself running into Danny when visiting Tim and Bruce at work and at Jazz dance practice. They would make the usual small talk—or the average amount for her, which was even less than other people politely—and often separate enough that she started associating Danny and little Jazz with her daily routine.

In the same way, she would consider seeing the same mailman making his rounds and the same beard buns being sold on the corner of Third Street every Tuesday. Nothing stuck with her besides Danny's deep loneliness and sadness hidden within his body language.

It wasn't an odd thing to see in a place like Gotham. Cass often could see more than anyone how everyone felt well walking about. She had learned long ago that while she felt sad, she could do nothing for everyone she encountered. Trying to save everyone from their own sadness wasn't possible, especially if it was due to grief.

But there was just something about Danny. She could not pinpoint what made Cass want to try, regardless of knowing it was helpless. So she found herself and started to reach out.

At first, she would pass along fun, free kid-friend event ideas, like asking him if he thought about bringing Jazz to the children's museum on their movie night? Or was he aware the library was hosting storytime by Jason Wayne? Has he tried the free chess and treat day provided by the frozen yogurt place on Mondays near the petting zoo?

Then she started messaging him. They traded numbers so she could tutor Jazz on some dance moves—free of charge—about anything and everything. Tim took notice and casually requested that she stick close by to see if anyone was off the books bothering Danny or any other meta like him.

Cass found that whatever free time she had, she was slowly filling it with Danny and little Jazz.

What a delight the girl was—smart, mature, and cheerful. Jazz has an obsession with teddy bears—especially her mother's old one that was a play on Albert Einstein—and the two would often find themselves having tea parties with her collection.

Danny would join as the royal king of the tea, and Cass would be the visiting princess. It was so fun that, for a moment, she forgot about the corruption plot she was trying to protect them from.

Danny and Jazz felt so part of her world that one day, while Bruce was trying to set up a Father-Daughter day, she opened her calendar app only to pause at the sight of it being practically filled up with plans.

There were plans involving Danny and Jazz. There were reminders to take Jazz to her appointments, school events for Jazz, Fenton Fudge night, and plans to take Danny out and have her siblings babysit Jazz.

She thinks back to all the times she's over at their house. The cooking, the movies on the couches, the texts between her and Danny. But what she thinks of the most is the warm butterfly feeling Danny causes in her, the genuine adoration for a man inside and out, and it hits her.

"I'm in love with him."

Bruce looks up from his calendar app with confusion. "You're in love with nail tech at Gotham Spa? Well, I can still book us the pedicures, but to request him might be hard-"

"No, Bruce, Danny Fenton."

"Oh"

[evilminji]

I got distracted, BUT I REMEMBERED!

The Dr.'s Fenton? Would ABSOLUTELY fight a child.

Specifically, Hatsume Mei. Future CEO of Hatsume Industries! And ENGINEERING RIVAL of their's! They may be new to this whole "support industy" business, but they are SEASONED weaponry makers! And that brilliant little upstart is good! Audacious! A THREAT!!!

COME GET SOME!!! D:<

See, they needed to Move. Things were getting a bit... spicy. They may have made so unfortunate choices, back before they knew the truth about their Son and Ghosts in general.

Ignorance, bigotry, and academic bias are curses in their house for a REASON, after all. They never thought... after all the DECADES of facing it themselves...

Well...

Needless to say, they were, are, and will always BE horrified by how they acted. There may have be a whole host of reasons behind WHY they acted that way. But those WHYs aren't good enough. They should have been better. Done better. They don't offer any excuses, but but they can give an explanation, if it's wanted.

And, together, as a family, they got through Maddie n Jack's horrifying mistakes.

God they don't deserve those kids. Love them to pieces. The things they don't warn ya about parenthood, you know? The mistakes you might make. You think you're ready. Think everything's alright. Then your life's work KILLS your son and brings him back.

And you don't notice.

......what sort of parents DONT NOTICE?

They still have nightmares. Feel sick. God, if they were working in ANY other field. With ANY other materials! If it wasn't SPECIFICALLY ectoplasm? He... he wouldn't have come back. Oh god.

........

So.... so, yeah.

They're working on some things! As a family! Seeing a therapist from the Zone. Lovely... Them? They're a tree person. Neither Jack or Maddie is quite certain what gender pronouns, if ANY, they are supposed to use. They've been defaulting to They/Them just to be safe. Still! Alien therapist! Neat!

But, of COURSE. The BABIES in White throw a FIT. "Wah, wah, wah you've been compromised blah blah blah" oh PLEASE! Just because they've had a little personal growth! And stopped shooting at Phantom in public! And in general! You shoot ONE little Goverment agent for trying to shoot your baby and suddenly YOUR the bad guy!

He didn't even die!

So, yeah, BIT spicy.

Honestly? Feels like a long time coming. They were never very popular. This ultimately just feels like the ends of a road that began in college. Them, the two "crazies" with their backs to the wall, as the government closes in, trying to tear them down for knowing the TRUTH and refusing to shut up about it. Their reputations so deep in the mud, they're tasting bedrock.

At least they are together.

And thank god they've had years to plan for the inevitable.

So? They have the kids grab their go bags and head off too stay with Danny's new celebrity friend from another dimension, Mr Wayne. Nice man, little dim, but since he's willing to open his home to the kids in case of emergency? Perfect. And frankly, as long as Mr. Pennyworth is there, everything will be fine.

Besides! Lil Damian is a very respectful and responsible young man. Tim and Danny may get up to mischief, but they can trust the youngest to put his foot down.

THEM on the other hand?

Not so lucky. THEY have to stay with the house. It's not exactky like they can move the portal after all, it's built in. And this is where the kids grew up! Where Jack and her scrimped and saved, lived out of cars and off nickle noodles, to afford! This is their HOME! And no jack booted THUG is going to take that.

So the kids go first. They go to the command center. Jack takes pot shots while she fires up... THAT machine. The one they wired into the house itself, right along with the Ectoplasmic Shielding. It was all theoretical, once. But not anymore.

Now they have The Zone.

It's been collecting energy runoff from the open gate ever since it opened. Siphoning them into the sub-basment mega batteries. Enough to run two-thirds the planet for the next half a millennia. If only the damn patent office would LET THEM PATENT THEIR WORK-!

But that doesn't matter anymore. No, what matters is checking how full the battery banks are. Decently. It HAS been a while since they've done a controlled drain. Good, that means they have more then enough.

So, with no kids to witness things getting nasty? She pulls out her keys and unlocks the parental commands, flips the the shields to "strobe-kill". Let's see you crowd us NOW fuckers. With Jack freed up to help aim the house? They set to work.

It's... not EXACTLY an exact science, as much as they'd prefer it to be. More of a controlled jump. Set preferences, power jump, hop sideways an unknown distance. Land. Look around.

Is it what you want?

Habitable?

A zombie apocalypse?

Jump again. And again. And again. Until the battery runs out. Then sit... or float...or drift, there, until the batteries refill. You have to be mindful, of course, that you don't lose Shield coverage. Because it keeps the House air tight and together. If you jump and immediately lose power to the shields because you misjudged the energy left in the batteries?

Better HOPE you land somewhere with a breathable atmosphere and no zombies!

And Fentons don't rely on HOPE! They rely on good ol firepower and hutzpa!

Also advanced ectoplasmic scientific engineering! But that was a given.

It... takes a while. They run out of canned peaches. Have to stop TWICE to help cure a zombie plague, since they are the only ones with a still working lab. They were actually sort of joking with the kids about the zombies. Oof. Good thing Ectoplasm eats EVERYTHING. One specialized ecto shot and that disease is TOAST.

Granted, the surviors are all limnal now. But they don't seem to care in the slightest.

Then there was the whole "oop! Planet's gone." Couple of worlds. The one with the crabs. The ocean one. The ice age. The robots. The cartoon horses. The inappropriately dressed high-schoolers with weapons fighting God. The boring one. The one with ninjas...

I mean, they are just NOT having any LUCK!

Okay, next moderately stable world, they are doing a groceries run! A Man can not live off freeze dried meals forever! Well, you CAN. But it's making Jack sad, and frankly that's a war crime. Plus she's run out of tea! AND coffee! A life of no caffeine? She can't endure that.

She's started to eye her son's God awful energy abominations in a can, for God sake! Desperate time's and all that...

Zyeyooom!

Thunk!

Which? Is how? The ENTIRE class of 1-H? Turns to stare in ABSOLUTE HORROR at the cackling, head thrown back, hands clawed, mad scientist "it's alive! It's aliiiiiiive" type insanity that is Hatsume Mei and her "this green goo I found from some guys Quirk" powered teleport anchor.

It MADE A HOUSE.

On SCHOOL FUCKING GROUNDS. An ENTIRE house! Is... is that a blimp? That's English right? What's it say?! What the FUCK is that sh- OH MY GOD ARE THOSE PEOPLE!? MEI!!!!!

So begins... the Fentons Beef With A Child™.

Because! Mei will forever more claim! That SHE brought them to this universe with HER magnificent machine! But Maddie and Jack? At first, trying to be nice about it, helpfully point out, actually? No. THEIR house can and does reality jump. THEY brought themselves.

Mei ignores them.

Crows about her magnificent machine. Scoffs about them thinks they haspd anything to do with it.

Oh... oh it is ON, you tiny pink haired little shit!

Does the Japanese Government want to take control of the situation? Of course they do. They want these scientists and they want that house. Local Nedzu's say? "It's nice to want things" :) *sips tea mockingly*

They landed on HIS school's grounds. Finders keepers!

You may say "threat to national security" but HE says "free support gear for the students and security for the school"! Not to MENTION all this delightful FREE clean energy! They are a delightful couple. With a portal to the fabric between realities in their basement!

Not found of the laboratory, but that's a personal issue. The ZONE however? Oooohohohohoho~☆

It? Would DRIVE THE HPSC and Japanese government BATSHIT INSANE that they can't get at the portal? That threats and stealth Heros and every other method? Just... hits a brick wall. A big ol "lol nope!" Meanwhile Nedzu and occasionally random teachers or students are popping in and out of this house they can get into?

Nedzu especially standing just on the other side of the shields going >:3 neener~ neener~ neener~ Ha ha! I could be mature about this but am CHOOSING NOT TO BE!

@legitimatesatanspawn @mutable-manifestation @hdgnj @hypewinter @babbling-babull

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 6)

🌊 THANK YOU to all my 150 followers! Sorry, I didn’t get to draw an illustration this week BUT the wonderful @oskidontle had blessed me with this lovely fanart of Mer!Pim (thank you again), Please follow them and check out their own awesome Smiling Mermaids AU!✨

Charlie and Mipnessa got along swimmingly enough for two people who just met each other that day…unless, Charlie pondered, if they just-so happen to have already met! Charlie took note of how Mipnessa vaguely resembled the mystery person of whom he recalled rescuing him that morning…and while he wasn’t quite sure at first, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and potentially refresh her memory; He also had a string gut feeling that it wouldn’t be wise to potentially out her as one of the elusive merfolk out of politeness….if not being proven wrong and labeled as a silly-hearted daydream-believer. Charlie ran back to his quarters to swipe the green cloak that was left behind to gently fold it up, then he started rummaging through his closet for a perfectly-sized decorative shoebox to place inside of as a grandiose gesture to Mipnessa before running back to bequeath the gift. “Y’know I have a funny hunch that this is something you’d totally look great in.” The flattered Mipnessa giggled in response: “Showering me with gifts already? You must take a fancy to me.” Feeling overwhelmed with butterflies in his stomach, Charlie blushed with a nervous grin. Mipnessa opened the box and held up the cloak, while she admired the deep emerald green shade, she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what fabric was used for it or could she figure out why it smelled like the brine of clam chowder. “It’s beautiful, and it matches my dress way better than the shawl I’m wearing too.” Charlie replied with a fairly obvious double-meaning: “A match made in heaven.” as he held her hand and proposed: “Perfect for an atmospheric afternoon-to-evening stroll, lemme show you to the outskirts of the palace, the sunset views are amazing out there!”

Meanwhile, Alan had just caught up with the rest of the party as an eagerly-lovestruck Pim alongside a curious Glep followed Graham Nelly to the crisp shore nearby Prince Charlie’s castle. “I can’t wait to see his cute face again!” Pim squealed in delight while fidgeting his hands, Alan sternly reminded him with a business-like tone to mask his anxiety: “We’re here to fetch back your cloak, so that nobody could recognize you and drag you back to that toxic, discourse-infested mess of a palace; We also really shouldn’t stay up here for too long lest we want to be some crazed stowaway’s four-course meal.” Pim’s glee briefly turned into annoyance as he was tempted to roll his eyes at his paranoid friend’s repetitive jargon had it not been for the fact that unlike his family, Alan’s “survival mode”-demeanor was out of genuine concern and love rather than blind bigotry over land folk. When the group made it to their destination, they would come to find that much to their surprise, Charlie was indeed out-and-about, bringing an unexpected guest with him for a neat little walk by the sparkling sapphire waves. While the party of sea critters hid behind the conveniently large rock while observing the scene from a far, they all quickly took notice that the lady accompanying Charlie was wearing an accessory all too familiar to Pim, who shook his head in disbelief before taking another look to find that Charlie was clearly flirting with with her as well. While Alan started discussing a plan to swipe the cloak with Graham, Glep took notice how his buddy Pim was doing. “My cloak…” Pim quietly uttered while overwhelmed with a flurry of mixed emotions, flashing between shock, confusion, hurt feelings and jealously all boiling down into unbridled fury. Glep never saw Pim this angry since that time he was just a teenager and his sister Amy tore the lock on his diary and blurted out all his secrets, including who he was crushing on at the time. Something REALLY must have struck a cord with the usually understanding and compassionate mercritter…

Graham proposed: “We could, like, wrangle a bunch of dolphins together to create a huuuuge wave and splash it right on her so that Prince guy can offer to hang it up for her and when they leave we can snag it from a clothes line, concrete plan!” Alan argued in a snippy-yet-monotone inflection: “Yeah but there’s no clothes line anywhere near water, besides, it would take us all night to achieve that plan anyways.” Graham then got another bright idea: “I know JUST the thing, dude. I have in my collection and it’s this neat tool called a grappling hook! It’s what land folks use to retrieve items from far-away.“ Alan rolled his eyes with an exasperated yawn. “Oh really? Go off I guess.” Graham happily explained: “It’s this long-ass stick with a string attached and at the end of the string it’s a hook! and you toss it far enough and the hook catches-“ he was cut off by a loud, panicked gasp from the horrified Alan, who furiously chided Graham while using his claws as gestures to express his disgust: “You keep a literal weapon used for catching and eating our kind?!! What in Davy Jones’ locker is the matter with you?!” Graham casually shrugged, replying: “I’ve only ever seen something like this being used to catch fish only to throw them back, like they kept catching fish but it’s obvious that she was trying to retrieve something she lost down there.” Alan stood there dumbfounded with his left eye twitching for a few seconds, until he broke silence with a sigh with one claw on his face, “Look, It would just be easier for one of us to sneak up to that lady and quietly snag the cloak away from her.” Graham cheered: “That’s it!” Alan realized exactly what he had in mind and groaned: “Alright, I understand now that I have to put my big-boy shell on.” Glep piped up: “Eskewazebewaboyo!”, Pim’s face perked up at the suggestion. Graham agreed: “Hell yeah! They’ll be too distracted to notice Alan, they’ll be all like: Oh, where is that heavenly sound coming from? Ha! It’ll be a synch!” Alan gulped, “Well, here goes nothing.”

During the conversions Charlie ignited while subtly prying for clues, he had realized that Mipnessa wasn’t the mystery critter. First off, she knew how to swim but preferred to go sailing over swimming. Second she does sing but her voice was rather different from what he had in mind BUT she did play the lute well. Lastly and most glaringly obvious of all was that she had just embarked on Eustace’s ship at the same time the rescue took place and was still miles away from Gremblonia. That being said, Charlie was perfectly content with having Mipnessa as a bride, she may have not been an exotic dream girl but she was a charmingly meek and proper lady whose lute could harmonize well with his ocarina! “You know Mipnessa, I could take you sailing on our ship and go on one of my wild adventures out at sea, maybe we’ll take on a kraken or get into a gang fight with pirates.” Charlie proposed in a suave tone, in response Mipnessa sheepishly loosened up the green cloak ‘round her shoulders, replying: “…y’know, maybe I would like that.” for a brief moment that felt like forever, the two locked eyes and gazed at each other’s presence for what felt like forever. As the sunset started melting into nighttime, the most angelic voice made it’s way to the couple’s eardrums, snapping them out of their trance. Charlie started running around frantically looking for the sound as Mipnessa’s curiosity peaked, joining him as she didn’t pay any mind to Alan’s pincer clinging onto the cloak slipping off of her shoulders. Once the cloak was freed from Mipnessa’s grasp, Alan scurried back fast he could before they’d notice. Meanwhile back behind “home base”, Pim peaking behind as he vocalized his feelings with a warm, sweet a capella with a noticeable tang of seductive amour and just a hint of bitter jealousy; This was Pim’s subtly, classy way of saying out-loud: “That boy is MINE, you got nothing on me you basic bitch!!”. Just as Alan made it to just inches away from water, the lobster tripped on a pebble and got tangled up in the shawl and tried to wriggle his way out. Pim took notice, stopped what he was doing and immediately swam to the scene to finish the job.

Just then Mipnessa realized something was missing. “Oh dear, my cloak!” Charlie blushed upon seeing Mipnessa’s curvy frame accentuated by her sleeveless dress, but quickly snapped out of it. “D-don’t worry, it’s probably back where we left off.” Charlie stumbled back to where he and Mipnessa where viewing the sunset, what he discovered was more than just the cloak itself: it was none other than the mystery critter who rescued him, half-submerged in water while clad in a seashell bra, freeing what looked like a lobster that somehow got trapped inside before taking back what was rightfully theirs. Charlie stood there and froze in shock, asking himself if he was just seeing things or he was trapped in some sort of dream, as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief, the mystery critter already vanished. A tinge of guilt filled Charlie’s heart, as he wished he could have apologized for giving her cloak away, but his thoughts broke as Mipnessa was calling for him to return. Charlie ran back and tried to explain what happened but all that came out was nervous gibberish that Mipnessa initially assumed was Spammish, until he blurted: “Damn lobster made off with the cloak!!” while shaking his fist. Mipnessa giggled: “Duke Eustace was right, you are a washed-up mess of a boy!” Charlie once again froze, embarrassed, until she nudged him a with a smile and reassurance: “At least you’re not some stuck-up old prune.”

~ Damien (and the rest of the search party) spent two days looking for Pim with a nagging conscience, he swore to Neptune if he found his littlest sibling, he’d work hard on being a better brother overall. Ironically, he found a patch of sea flowers to rest upon for the night, just as he was about to lie down he saw a short, cloaked figure picking the flowers, presumably for herbal use. “Pimberly, is that you?!” All he got in response was the laughter belonging to an elderly-sounding sea critter. “Oh deary, I’m afraid I’m not the lost Princess, I’m just an old botanist making medicine.” Damien’s heart sank, his pink skin turning grey at the reveal. “But, I have seen Princess Pimberly ‘round these corners.” Damien’s eyes widened with relief, begging: “Please, tell me where!” The old wisenheimer gave a concerning hint: “I’ve seen the Princess swimming in-and-out of this grotto hauling a satchel full of the most WORTHLESS crap!” Damien pressed for more answers: “So, where is this grotto?”

🐚

Chapter 7 Coming August 9th

[stoutguts]

headcanon rambling/my personal hc for Johnny's backstory bc I think it'd be interesting also I like the idea of Ghoap where the both of them had a shitty childhood bc of an abusive parent and the both of of them hv trauma/I love angst 💕

CW: drug add\ction, s*lf-h*rm/s*icide, parental/child abvse

Soap was born into a big family in the Scottish countryside, being the youngest with 6 older sisters. His father was a deadbeat, and walked out on him at a young age, being effectively raised by his mom and big sisters. Having strong female influences on his life benefited him greatly in the long run, he grew up to be a very well-adjusted, kind, and respectful man (particularly towards women, as he is a staunch feminist (you go Johnny).

However, on the other hand the only true parental figure in his life, his mother, was a horrible person. She was mentally and emotionally abusive, as well as unstable. She would even get physical with her children at times, including Soap. Johnny was also raised Roman Catholic, though today he considers himself agnostic or a flat out atheist. His mother was incredibly homophobic and transphobic and would use religion to justify her bigotry towards him, leading Soap to hating himself and struggling with self-harm and suicidal ideation for years. Particularly, by cutting himself (he has s/h scars all over his thighs, arms, and shoulders). Has attempted at least 10+ times in the past. Not to mention, he did a lot of hard drugs during his middle and high school years to cope with his mother's abuse. (Particularly coke and heroin). He's come incredibly close to ODing on a few occasions. An addict and a total mess, until his sisters intervened and forced him against his will into rehab.

After 2 or so years he was clean and eligible for the military.

He still relapses from time to time (whether it's self-harm or drugs), and when he does its bad. He even still regularly smokes weed to this day, though it's not nearly as bad as some other substances. It's a wonder he hasn't been discharged, probably because he's too much of an asset.

Ghost is the one to bring him out of his slumps now. Not minding one bit, as all Simon cares about is Johnny's safety and well-being.

Needless to say, he could never see religion in the same light after that. He’s even quite apprehensive and wary of people whom are religious and religion in general.

He and his mother were never close and soon would never get along with each other, as he’s proud and not the type to even tolerate shit from anyone. It was an almost daily occurrence that he and his mom would fight, particularly when he finally reached his pre-teen/teen years, sometimes evolving into full-blown screaming matches.

Being the protective type of person that he is, most of the time he’d get into fights because of his sisters coming to him about how mom had hit them or made them cry (despite the fact he feels nothing but pure hatred for his mum, he has a very deep bond/connection to each and everyone of his sisters and loves them all dearly).

That was what pissed him off more than anything.

His mom could do whatever she wanted with him, frankly he stopped caring and her cutting words no longer held any weight or meaning to him at some point, and being hit was soon the equivalent to getting bit by a mosquito, he became numb. He didn't know when he stopped feeling, but he did. (He of course wasn't entirely immune, she'd eventually break him). But he was determined to stay strong for his siblings.

Bringing harm upon his sisters? No way in hell that was ever gonna fly, and he didn't care if she was his mother or not.

Johnny naturally grew to resent his mother, and to this day he still calls her a “witch” or a "cunt" instead of his mum. Eventually he’d had enough and couldn’t take his mother’s abuse any longer, (she is half of the reason he went into the military as soon as he possibly could, besides it being a lifelong and childhood dream of his).

He kept in touch with his sisters (and still does), of course, calls them everyday or whenever he gets the chance to let them know he’s alive and well and to see how their doing. Visits when he can or when he’s off duty. Though he completely cut ties with his mother after joining the military,—a couple of his sisters would keep him posted on what was going on with her.

Later on, his mother went to go on to be diagnosed with terminal cancer, and passed shortly thereafter.

He attended the funeral up in Scotland, but mainly for his sisters’ sakes. He actually ended up staying in Scotland for a while after that to provide support for his sisters, (emotional or otherwise), and to try to ease the grieving process. Even though she wasn’t the greatest mom or person in general, it was still a tough loss. Though Soap still didn’t regret cutting her out of his life,—it was fucked up but he was glad that she died in a way, and even visited her grave just once after the funeral, by himself, just so he could spit on it. Maybe even say some things he never was able to say to her, half as retribution and half to just get it off his chest.

Ghost is the only one who knows of Johnny's past and his abusive mother, and is incredibly understanding and gentle about it (as naturally it's a particularly touchy subject). On all official stuff regarding his background, the most it ever details is where he was born or that he was raised Roman Catholic. Not to mention, although Soap is a yapper and almost never shuts up, he’s a very private person and just simply doesn’t like others knowing his business (with the exception of Ghost of course).

Even though Johnny didn’t let his mother’s death bother him regarding the funeral and his prolonged visit to Scotland, when he got back he broke down completely.

He stayed strong for his sisters as he felt like he had to and just as he's always done, but the facade came crashing down once he was in Simon's arms again.

He hated his mum, she didn't really deserve his tears, yet she was still his mum. That fact still reigned true even after everything.

And Ghost was there by his side the whole time. Hell, if anyone knows what it's like to lose a family member, it's Simon "Ghost" Riley. Whether they be toxic or not. Simon's heart positively ached for Soap, and they couldn't help but get all misty eyed at Johnny's pure, unbridled grief.

Ghost had never felt so sorry for anyone in his life, and Soap was eternally grateful for Simon's patience, empathy, and it consoling him to the best of their ability. 💖

DADDY ISSUES GHOST AND MOMMY ISSUES SOAP MY BELOVED(S)

[bamfaholic]

Pietro Maximoff Headcannons

Specifically the Fox movies, portrayed by Evan Peters

A/N: Just my personal head cannons! This is a little bulleted list, and dedicated to my husbutch @snikt-addict <3

He's absolutely a stoner, he has a really good dealer so he knows the source. It's hard to get super close to him to be able to smoke a bowl for (practically) free but he's probably the cheapest and best dealer you'll find.

The bong/blunt rotations in his little basement cave are to die for

He's not stupid, either. He did very well in school, but once his powers manifested he got serious imposter syndrome. Everyone believes he's cried wolf, what believe what you can't see? So he gave up on his future. The Institute helps him rekindle his desire to pursue education and a career. He wants to go into IT

He also had a similar experience to Charles, where he thought he was the only "gifted" person out there. His mom was tight lipped, knowing the chances, and was praying her son wouldn't be like his father. He is exactly like his father.

He has a heart condition, with a main symptom of tachycardia and arrhythmia due to the strain of his super speed running. It's worse the faster and longer he goes.

He's hesitant to take any medications for this, let alone see a doctor. He's terrified of medical gaslighting and abuse from being a mutant.

Despite this, he gets dizzy spells. He doesn't pass out often, but if he goes pretty fast or isn't taking care of himself he's much more likely to end up kissing the ground

He also has EDS! He's very hyper mobile (you can see it in the movies, look at the original slow motion at the Pentagon - watch his fingers!) And his joints are fucky. He should be wearing compression gear, but good luck getting him to cooperate.

He damages his body every time he uses his ability, due to the gforce from throwing his body that fast. He doesn't care. He's had internal bleeding scares, and has ended up in the ER after some of his heists

He also needs that high carb diet. He's BURNING through calories, and fat won't burn quick enough for his super speed. Which is why he is constantly craving sugary foods like Twinkies and Ding Dongs. It's also why he's pretty skinny despite his diet.

He's an insomniac. Partly because of his depression, he has racing thoughts and it's always too quiet when people settle down to rest.

He's a kleptomaniac, but he doesn't take joy in it much anymore. It was fun at first, especially realizing he couldn't be caught, but now his fingers are sticky because he's addicted to the adrenaline rush and dopamine hit

He's also extremely poor. His mother is still single, and so she's a single income woman in the 70s with a young daughter. He often steals for his family, especially Wanda. He'll sneak her a toy or a treat when his mom isn't looking

He's the best bigger brother you could ask for. Is he perfect? No. But he loves Wanda and would die for her. He's not the best babysitter sometimes, ADHD goes brr, but be damned he can make a mean pancake and play princess tea party

He has a thick wall up. It would take a long time to really see the raw Pietro. Deep down he's a scared kid. He knows who his dad is, a terrorist, but his dad is none the wiser. He can outrun anything, anyone, but death. He's going to try, though, or let it be by his own hand.

Pietro goes by Peter mostly because he's an angsty teen, but to also hide his Romani and Jewish heritage. It's hard enough being Romani and a Jew, but the bigotry of being a mutant on top was too much so he's trying to stealth the best he can.

His imposter syndrome also latches onto the fact that he passes as a white person, but Wanda does not. His silver hair is natural, part of his mutation. His mother does look Romani too.

He's not religiously Jewish, neither is his mother or sister. His mother was raised reformed religious Jewish however.

He loves to tinker with tech, take things apart, sodder things, whatnot. It's all things he's stolen or dumpster dove.

His Walkman is his comfort object. It's hard to find him without it.

Man is AuDHD, needs severe stimulation. His stimming/fidgeting has damaged things before as he mindlessly goes super speed.

He is VERY angry at Erik for leaving him behind. The movies make it seem impossible for Wanda and him to be anything but step siblings but I hate that. Erik has no idea he has a son though, as Erik is a MAJOR family man. Pietro still holds it against him that he went on with his life while his mom scrapes by, especially with the social stigmas of the time.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

i don't remember in which book, but there is an episode where Narcissa takes Draco away from a clothing store (Madame Malkin, I think) because they cater to muggleborns. i understand it was a political statement...

but with that in mind, question is: how far is pureblood bigotry actually goes?

are there shops exclusively for purebloods and we just don't know about them bc harry didn't go there, or were they decades ago... do purebloods buy products invented by blood traitors like the Potters and Weasleys? after all, they are good quality, but it is not good to give money to dirt yk. at the same time, most shops probably fall away from public bigotry bc even if they are run by purebloods who believe in pureblood supremacy, they will still serve everyone, because money in the first place.

this is an interesting topic for research, in my opinion, and very comparable to reality

Like, my immediate answer was: Very far.

I mean, once the most blood purists of their society gain control of the ministry they are literally rounding up muggleborns to be sent to Azkaban.

That being said, casual blood purity, like you mention, seems to not go as deep as Narcissa would like you to believe. Like, we see Draco using Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in book 6, which was invented and only sold by Fred and George. I think, like with a lot of irl bigotry, it's a lot of performance.

Like, blood purists would talk a lot about not buying from filth and mudbloods, but if a blood traitor has a good idea or a good product — they don't put their money where their mouth is. They'd buy from blood traitors and muggleborns if it's the better product. They do copy ideas from the muggles. Like, I'm sure blood purists who have access to the Floo ridicule the concept of the Hogwarts Express and the Knight Bus, thinking of them as filthy muggle inventions; but I'm certain they were all too glad to bring indoor plumbing into Hogwarts and their mansions because it's an invention they liked.

We also see a dark pureblood store like Borgins & Burkes hire filthy, poor, orphan Tom Riddle. He was good at his job, he probably wasn't paid a lot, and so it didn't matter his blood purist employers/customers thought he was a mudblood and filth if he was good at what he did. They'd hire, buy and sell to muggleborns and blood traitors if there is money on the line.

We see this attitude with Slughorn as well. He's surprised by Hermione and Lily being muggleborns and exceptional witches and potion makers because he doesn't expect it (the bigotry of low expectations, which we also see irl). But, he does invite them into the Slug Club and he expects them to then be able to get into positions they usually can't because he basically vetted them as 'talented filth'. They're okay and good to hire by purebloods because they're good at what they do. Now, I don't think Slughorn is a bad person, and he's actually doing a very useful service for talented muggleborns in the bigoted society they live in by opening doors for them, but I digress.

I think it's telling that an ancestral house of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, the "always pure", is a muggle house. Grimmauld Place is a house built by muggles, for muggles, that the Blacks decided to have as their own. They have muggle plumbing, muggle baths, muggle toilets, and muggle wallpaper, and they like it. but if you asked them, they'd call their house a "wizarding home", even if every brick was put in its place by muggles without a drop of magic.

We are told by Pottermore a good chunk of the Malfoys' inherited wealth is muggle. Their manor is also, most likely, muggle-built. They live their pureblood lifestyle, thinking themselves oh so much better than blood traitors when the food on their table was put there by muggle money. That the reason they can act the way they do, that they have more money than the Weasleys — is because their ancestors made business deals with muggles. And they know it but choose to pretend to have forgotten.

The point is, yes, blood purists would talk all day about how they want no filth in their house and how everything muggle is lesser, but when muggles/muggleborns/blood traitors have something good going, when they have a good product or are themselves talented, they'd be blind to their filthy blood for the sake of money/good idea. They'd tell themselves whatever lies they needed to tell themselves to believe they weren't blood traitors for installing a toilet. That they're not supporting muggle ideas by living off of muggle instructors.

They're bigoted hypocrites is what I'm saying.

[chapinii]

Many on Quesadilla island believe that Fitmc was very much closeted to himself and the world up until he arrived on the QSMP, but perhaps that closet wasn't quite as locked as some may presume.

With the environment of 2b2t being so rife with hatred and homophobia, a deep and meaningful relationship was always out of the question. But within its depths lay the rub, of Fit, going through the all too familiar queer experience of being very aware of his sexuality against this toxic landscape, and knowing the possibility of others out there being just like him. Others whom he could never risk reaching out to in public, but longed to all the same.

He'd heard and seen his fair share of casual to severe homophobia, as well as witnessing with some amusement how the homoerotic tension some players swear against can tear factions apart. He knows all too well the irony that comes with a land so dominated by toxic masculinity and bigotry. This is a place where a man will stare you in the eyes, caress your cheek so gently, then spit in your face in disgust before insta-killing you. Of course, the price for outing somebody in such a place is a pretty penny for sure. Being a blank slate in the land of anarchy is your strongest asset. The last thing you want to do is throw fuel onto the fire and give people even more of a reason to put your head on a spike.

And so, he kept his feelings repressed- for the most part. He'd hide a blush as he melted internally over a handshake with a particularly muscular allied base leader. He'd allow himself the luxury of a poster, of an old Hollywood western starring a (very) dashing cowboy, that he'd stick crudely on the bedroom wall of wherever he'd end up staying for a while. But perhaps, just a couple times, he'd had a few small but significant experiences: the touch of a hand on his for just a fraction too long, warm eyes from a face he can't quite remember looking him up and down, all but rendering him breathless. Split second opportunities that would make those feelings bubble up to the surface, too strong to ever truly ignore. Being a lone mercenary in a world of anarchy is all well and good, but God does it get lonely.

He and Pac like to take things slow. It's a mutual decision. Neither of them have ever truly felt the need to sit down and discuss why. Fit wouldn't like him to know what he thinks about whenever the subject drifts towards the two of them going any further with their relationship. Every time Pac makes any kind of suggestive advance, heck, even if he looks at the man for too long, his mind can't help but think back to one quiet night on 2b2t, so many years ago. Flashes of encountering a stranger, deep underground, of a clumsy, desperate kiss. Stubble on stubble, the raw smell of dirt and sweat and cigarette smoke. He remembers the thrill, the terrifying electricity of it all, until a clatter was heard in the cave behind them and the moment was gone forever. It meant everything and nothing at the same time, that chance encounter. It was the closest he'd ever came to a real connection with somebody. He didn't know what became of the other man who so urgently whispered 'run', into his ear. He could have killed Fit right there, made a point of it, and yet he didn't. The mere memory of it petrified him, but by God, did he feel alive.

All the same, he didn't dare risk anything like that again. That was until he came to the QSMP, a place where he didn't have to hide himself from others, but still he airs on the side of caution. He's afraid of getting things wrong, of throwing himself into something he can't run away from. This isn't just some random encounter with a player in 2b2t. Pac is different. Fit knows he's got a past of his own, he sees how it torments him sometimes. What if daring to make a move, even kissing him opens up old wounds for the both of them?

Fit's no longer hiding in the dark. Making things 'official' with Pac is not a once in a lifetime chance, but the longer Fit hangs around him he feels like it is. He wants to keep Pac safe just as he kept himself safe for all those years. When he finally lets himself get closer to his roommate, one wrong move and another hypothetical cave noise could sound, followed by the form of something even more terrible that could rip the two apart forever and send Fit straight back to square one.

Slow and steady wins the race. Slow and steady keeps them both safe.

But God, what he'd give to feel that thrill again.

[xxoxobree]

hiya!! i don’t know if your matchups are still open, but if not, ignore this!! id like to request a match up with miles 1610/42.

i’m quite shy and reserved but i could be considered an ambivert when i’m around ppl i trust. i’m a very sarcastic person and i think i have pretty good comedic timing. i put others before me and i really just want others to be safe and happy. i am jokingly flirty with my friends that i trust and i love being close to my friends (like sitting close and leaning on their shoulders, etc)

only a little bit abt my looks; i have curly hair with chunky highlights (blonde, brown and a purple maroon)

i like movies (horror), animals (bats), music, sleeping, baking, reading, podcasts, food, helping others, animated movies, lengthy deep discussions

i dislike small spaces, the dark, rude and obnoxious people, toxic people, bigotry

my main hobbies are dance and film analysing

my music taste is so random i love everything (metal to rock to foreign music to rap to anti-pop to hyperpop to pop) but i rly love 2000s pop and alternative music (like metal, goth, punk, etc). i esp love gorillaz

thank you and have a good day/evening!

Hey babe (I would love to hear your thoughts on films, that’s so cool that you analyze them.)

You’re A Miles G girl 😌for sure!

Is sarcastic too, he get on your nerves (taste of your own medicine)

He’s witty too and matches your energy when it tile to flirt, he probably leaves you speechless most of the time tho . The couple that flirts all the time and makes everyone gag.

He laughs hard at all your jokes but refuses to call you funny, is jealous when other guys find you funny

You two share the same “put others first” ideal so I can see a lot of check up text and conversations between you two and immediate response to something feeling/being wrong.

He will not watch the horror movies with you 😂😂 ask you how do you enjoy it. If he does watch with you be prepared for a lengthy text of the nightmare he had.

He is Puerto Rican and got moves, will dance with you and teach you dances.

Probably makes fun of you liking “old” music but you can make fun of him too because he listens to all of Aaron’s old vinyls

Will watch Animations with you, prefers them over live action.

Doesn’t mind you being touchy,sinks into your touch every time it calms him.

LATE NIGHT TALKS, will talk to you about anything, his brains runs a miles a minute and is happy he has someone that he can express himself with

Hope this was good 🥰🥰

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Watch and Learn, City Boy (Taylor's Version)

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sergeant Hound x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: fluff; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; playful partners; sex in a tent; dirty talk; Grizzer has seen some shit.

A/N: This was originally written for the Writer Wednesday week 1 challenge, and if you'd prefer to read a smut-free version, you can find it here. If you like spicy lemons, keep reading!

Want to read more Hound goodness? Check out this fic by @imarvelatthestars

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Remind me why we’re doing this, again?” Hound grumbles as the two of you wrangle a pile of tent poles and canvas.

“Because the hotel didn’t allow massiffs,” you say, grunting a bit as you struggle with the heavy tent.

Technically, the hotel doesn’t allow clones, either, but you leave that unsaid. You had booked the room, paid the pet deposit, and traveled from Coruscant to Alderaan, only to be abruptly turned away at check-in. Before you left, you told the hotel concierge your opinion of their corporate bigotry, and now you are also banned for life. And so here the three of you are, setting up an ancient, decrepit canvas tent that you dug out of your parents’ attic.

Well, technically the two of you are setting up the tent while Grizzer explores your campsite, sniffing the lush greenery of Alderaan with interest. The massiff is accustomed to the hard plastcrete and rancid smells of Coruscant, and you wonder if she’s ever been in nature before.

“Relax,” you say. “I did this all the time growing up. It’ll be fun!”

“Sleeping in the dirt and eating rations is your idea of fun?” Hound asks.

“The tent has a floor,” you point out, “and believe me, we can do better than rations.”

Eventually, you wrestle the tent into submission and get two bedrolls laid out inside. The scent of old canvas, saturated with woodsmoke and memories, pulls you right back to your childhood: camping under the stars, swimming in the lake, lying in the sand and exploring the world around you. You can almost hear the shrieks of laughter and your father’s deep baritone as he sings a lullaby to you and your siblings.

You hang up a few strings of twinkle lights, and then, satisfied with the cozy little retreat you’ve created, you go back outside to get a campfire started. Hound is standing with his arms crossed, looking decidedly unimpressed with the entire situation.

“Has it occurred to you that there are wild animals in these woods?” he asks. “Gree told me about the wolf-cats of Alderaan.”

“Grizzer will keep us safe,” you reassure him. “Won’t you, girl? Who’s my sweet baby?”

Grizzer wiggles happily over to you and nuzzles into your chest as you squat to scritch behind her ear holes.

“Grizzer, have some dignity, for kark’s sake,” Hound says. “You are a soldier of the Republic, not a pampered lap-tooka.”

Grizzer ignores him and flops onto her back to beg for belly rubs. Seeing the way you fawn over the massiff, Hound can’t help but smile, remembering the day he met you.

“Grizzer! NO!” Hound chased after the bolting massiff as she charged an unsuspecting civilian in the middle of Monument Plaza. Grizzer had yanked the leash out of his hands and was running full-tilt through the scattering crowds. Too late, he saw her target: you. You were standing in the sun, laughing with a street vendor, and Hound would have taken a moment to appreciate your beauty if you hadn’t been directly in the path of certain doom. “Grizzer!” he shouted again. “Heel!” You turned toward the commotion with only a few meters between you and the charging massiff. Hound fought the urge to close his eyes before Grizzer launched herself and savaged you, but then something completely unexpected happened. You called out a word in a strange language, and the massiff skidded to a halt in front of you. You allowed her to sniff your hand, and then you pulled something out of your pocket and offered it to her. She took the treat and licked your hand as Hound finally caught up, heaving with exertion. “Sorry, ma’am,” he panted. “She slipped her leash. I don’t know what got into her.” You smiled up at him, and his heart thudded with more than just adrenaline when he saw the way your eyes sparkled. “She just smelled the treats,” you said with a shrug. “We always had massiffs when I was growing up, and I never got out of the habit of carrying a few treats in my pockets. I hope it’s all right that I gave her one; I really didn’t want to lose a hand.” In that moment, Hound knew he was utterly lost.

“Awww, is Daddy grumpy?” you coo at Grizzer as you rub her belly. “Is he a Cranky McGrumperson? Is he spreading his grumpy energy all over our campsite because he’s afraid to get his hands dirty?”

You shoot Hound a teasing look, and he stalks over to you, pulling you away from Grizzer and into his arms for a kiss. You sigh happily. You’ve been seeing Hound for a few weeks now, and you were hoping that a romantic trip to your home planet of Alderaan during his shore leave would give you an opportunity to take things to the next level. You had booked a room at a posh boutique hotel with a luxurious soaking tub and an incredible view of the mountains. Who knew the hoteliers would turn out to be gigantic dicks?

So you made a quick change of plans. You had been worried about Hound’s reaction to the idea of camping, but your other option was to take him to your parents’ home and sleep in your childhood bedroom, which… No thanks. Not the ideal setup for the intimate weekend you are planning.

You break away from Hound’s kiss feeling lightheaded. He’s an excellent kisser, and as you’ve discovered over the past weeks, a man who can kiss like that will bring a similar level of skill and enthusiasm to the bedroom (or the bedroll, as the case may be). Now all you have to do is coax him out of his sullen mood.

“Did I mention I happen to be an amazing cook?” you ask, fluttering your eyelashes.

His interest is immediately piqued. “How are you planning to cook out here?”

“Watch and learn, city boy,” you say with a grin.

One hour, two shaak steaks, and four bottles of ale later, Hound’s temper is remarkably improved. 

“Where did you learn to cook over an open fire like that?” he asks.

“My dad taught me,” you say as you pull out a deck of sabacc cards. “I told you we used to do this all the time when I was a kid. You in?”

He nods, so you shuffle and deal. 

“Your dad sounds like an interesting man,” he says. “Too bad he wasn’t home when we stopped by to get the camping gear. I’d like to meet him.”

You laugh, “Trust me, it’s better this way. You might be ready to take down the entire Separatist army, but you are not prepared for my parents’ boyfriend interrogation.”

“Boyfriend, is it?” Hound asks, his brown eyes twinkling.

“If you play your cards right,” you say with a smirk.

You play a few hands of sabacc, betting with pebbles since Hound doesn’t have any credits, and when it gets too dark to see the cards, you decide to change into pajamas. Grizzer goes into the tent with you and immediately flops down on a bedroll. When you’d packed for your trip, you were planning to be spending your nights in a luxury suite, and your choice of sleepwear was not exactly suited to the great outdoors, so you regretfully tuck away the lacy little chemise. You strip out of your clothes and pull on a pair of short shorts and an old Alderaan University hoodie—the best option you could find in your old bedroom at your parents’ house. 

When you leave the tent, Grizzer stays behind. Hound watches you with an unreadable expression, and you worry that he’s still not having a good time. It’s time to break out the big guns.

“Are you ready to have your mind blown, trooper?” you ask with a flirty look.

He sits forward immediately. “What did you have in mind?”

You bend over and rummage through the bags of groceries you’d bought on your way out of Aldera. When you straighten up, you notice his gaze lingering on your exposed legs. You toss him a packet of marshmallows.

“What are these for?” he asks.

You hand him a stick that you scavenged earlier in the day and teach him how to toast the marshmallows over the coals of the campfire. Hound’s immediately catches on fire, which you assure him is part of the experience. 

“It’s not a real s’more if the marshmallow isn’t at least thirty percent carbon,” you say.

You show him how to sandwich the resulting crispy, molten marshmallow in between layers of chocolate and sweet biscuits, and the bliss on his face when he tastes it for the first time makes the entire trip worthwhile. You haven’t eaten s’mores in years, and you’ve forgotten how rich they are. 

“I think I can only eat one,” you say.

“Not me,” he says. “I’ll eat the whole bag.”

You give him a delighted smile, pleased that he’s finally come around. Hound has such a sweet tooth. All the clones do, he tells you. Something to do with their enhanced metabolisms, and the fact that they rarely get to eat anything other than ration bars and bland mess hall food.

“These are incredible,” he mumbles around a bite. “Messy, though.”

“I can help with that,” you offer. You raise his hand to your mouth, licking the melted chocolate and marshmallow goo off his fingers. “After all, we both know you don’t like to get your hands dirty.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. He swallows audibly. “You know, I take it back. Maybe camping isn’t so bad after all.”

You stand up and tug him to his feet, leading him to the tent. Inside, Grizzer has completely claimed one entire bedroll for herself.

“I guess we’ll have to share,” you say, already planning what kind of treat to give the massiff as a thank-you.

“Oh, no, anything but that,” Hound murmurs as he draws you close to him, running his hands down your back to squeeze your ass. “You know, with the lights on in the tent, I could see everything when you were changing.”

“Everything?” you ask, tipping your head back to gaze up into his beautiful amber eyes.

“Well, maybe not everything,” he admits. He slips a hand inside your hoodie to caress the bare skin of your back. 

“Maybe we should turn them off so we don’t scandalize all those wild animals you’re so worried about,” you tease.

“Let them watch,” he says, pulling you into a searing kiss.

Your tongue brushes against his softly. He tastes like sugar and chocolate, and you melt into him. Your hands roam over his body, sliding the jacket down his arms, tugging at his belt. You silently thank the Force that he’s wearing civvies instead of his armor. Once you’ve gotten his trousers off, you both sink to your knees onto the bedroll so you can take his shirt off without hitting the low ceiling of the tent. 

You press him backward until he’s lying down, and you move to straddle him. You’re still wearing your shorts and hoodie, and something about being fully clothed while sitting astride the very naked, very aroused man is intoxicating. You trail your hands over his smooth, brown skin, tracing his tattoos and massaging the hard muscles of his torso. He raises a hand to cup your face, and you kiss the gnarled, twisting scar on his forearm—a memento of a training accident with a young massiff. You roll your hips against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing against you through your shorts. He slides his hands up under your hoodie, cupping your breasts before lifting the garment off over your head. The air is chilly, and your nipples stiffen instantly.

“Oh, fuck, look at those perfect tits,” he groans. “Come here, babygirl. Let me taste you.”

You lean forward, and he captures one of your nipples in his mouth. Jolts of arousal flash through you. His large, rough hands are warm against your back, and you can’t hold back a moan of pleasure.

Grizzer huffs an annoyed snort, and without looking at the massiff, Hound commands, “Grizzer, stand guard.”

She stands with a grumble and pushes out of the tent. You hear the heavy thump as she sits down outside the opening.

“Are you telling me you could have gotten that bedroll back this whole time?” you demand with mock severity.

“Where would have been the fun in that?” Hound asks with a smug grin. “Darlin’, you look hot as kriff in those shorts, but I think it’s time to take them off.”

He holds you against his body and flips both of you over in one smooth motion so you’re lying on your back. You let out a whoop of laughter at the unexpected movement.

“Shh, you don’t want the wolf-cats to hear you and come eat us,” he teases, nipping playfully at your skin as he kisses his way down your torso.

“That’s true,” you say. “I’d rather get eaten by a Hound.”

You raise your hips, and he tugs down your shorts, then lifts your legs in the air to remove them. Before you can lie back down, he kneels and drapes your thighs over his shoulders.

“Nice trick,” you say. “Is that the kind of quick thinking that got you into ARF training?”

“They only accept the best,” he says as he lowers his face to your body.

He dips his tongue into you, sliding over your clit and into your entrance without hesitation. You arch off the bedroll with a cry, and he lays a reassuring hand on your abdomen, pressing you back down as he feasts on you. With his other hand, he strokes up and down your thigh, finally coming to rest against your ass as he grazes his thumb over your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck, Hound, don’t stop,” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he asks, pulling away. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t think the wolf-cats heard you.”

“Kriff you, Hound, shut up and eat my pussy,” you laugh, tangling your hands in his long black curls and shoving his head back down. 

He chuckles against your clit and gets back to work. Between his clever tongue and his skilled fingers, he soon has you writhing and begging beneath him, and then he does something impossibly wonderful inside you, and you shatter with a hoarse moan, squeezing your thighs around his head as you grind against his mouth.

And then he is on you, sliding into your tight heat. He fucks you without mercy, wringing a second orgasm out of you almost before you finish your first. You hold on for dear life as he pounds into you, growling words of praise and filth into your ear.

“Look at you, beautiful girl, taking my cock like a champ. Love the way you wrap those soft, perfect thighs around me, oh fuck, sweetheart. So warm, so fucking wet. Come on, baby, think you’ve got one more in you?”

You nod weakly and let out an incoherent sound, unable to form words. He reaches down to rub your clit, pressing against your lower belly. Faster than you think possible, you feel your body winding in on itself again.

“That’s my girl, my pretty girl. Fuck yeah, baby, come on—kark, you feel amazing, oh shit,” he pants. “Give me one more, honey, before I fill your sweet little pussy up with my cum. One more for your grumpy daddy, come on love.”

“YES!” you scream as the tension in your body snaps again and you convulse around his cock, bucking up against him over and over until your head is empty and your body is swamped with bliss.

He follows you into his own orgasm, thrusting hard as he empties deep inside you and collapses onto you, breathing hard. 

“Fuck, baby,” he says. “You’re incredible.”

You lie that way for a long time, tangled together, until he raises himself off of you to lie on his side as he plays with your hair. You turn to face him.

“Daddy?” you ask with a tiny smile.

He shrugs. “It felt right in the moment. Did it bother you?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Just filing it away for future reference.”

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead, and within moments, you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The soft light of an early summer morning filters through the canvas of the tent. You awaken slowly, feeling deliciously warm and safe. As you drift towards consciousness, you feel weight pressing against you from both sides, and you realize that at some point during the night, Grizzer has joined you and Hound on your bedroll, sandwiching you between her and the trooper. You are wrapped securely in Hound's strong arms, your legs tangled between his, and his fingers are interlaced with yours. You hear the melodic chirpings of avian-song outside the tent, and you snuggle closer to Hound, feeling his warm, even breaths against your shoulder, and lower, something suspiciously hard nudges against your thigh.

It may not be the romantic getaway you had planned, but this may be your favorite holiday ever.

---

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @imarvelatthestars

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word tag

I'm going through them I'm going through them

Anyway thanks @aziz-reads!

My words: start, taste, large, change

Your words: talk, current, stick, jealous

Tagging @thepeculiarbird @blind-the-winds @little-peril-stories @buffythevampirelover @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @ohnomybreadsticks @dyrewrites @writeouswriter @writeintrees @verba-writing

Keep reading for:

Gwen runs (admittedly justifiably) away from Jedi and Carmen

Raissa makes an announcement :)

A short little scene of Robbie being a little shit

Arm wrestling discussion

Start - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)

Thinking about them filled a deep, righteous fury as Dr. Asghar reached for the door. She let go of my left arm, so I jabbed my elbow into her gut. She yelped and I broke free. The time I spent running paid off when I shot down the hall, the balls of my feet carrying me across the gray tiled floor. I silently thanked the gym coaches forcing us to run thirteen laps. I heard Dr. Asghar and Dr. Moon run after me, but I didn’t stop. I had a good head start and was faster. I reached the vase I’d seen and gave a mental apology for knocking it over. Dr. Asghar swore loudly as I skidded around the corner and ran down that hall until I realized I reached a dead end. I whipped around but saw Dr. Asghar and Dr. Moon at the start of the hallway. I froze. “Where’d she go?” Dr. Asghar asked, panting. “I don’t know,” Dr. Moon said. He looked around. “She had to have turned here. Her powers must have activated.” I stood there in confusion. Looked behind me, looked back at them. What powers? How could they not see me? I decided not to think too much about it and be thankful that they couldn’t while trying to make my heavy breathing quiet down. “Let’s go back to the lab,” said Dr. Moon after a moment, turning around. “She could be demonstrating several abilities. I can name four off the top of my head.” He smiled. “Actually, seven! I’m curious to see which one it is.” Dr. Asghar huffed, but followed her colleague back around the corner. “Sorry about the vase,” I heard Dr. Moon say. “Who cares? It was my uncle’s. Good riddance!” I heard a sound that implied Dr. Asghar kicked a shard of the vase that bounced off the wall. “Eight!” I heard Dr. Moon exclaim. I could almost hear Dr. Asghar roll her eyes.

Taste - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Jedi POV)

“Hello, Alium,” the girl said. “What you are currently seeing is being broadcasted across every holoscreen in the world. No, there is no way to turn to another channel. My name is Raissa Kamanzi, and I am an Inutilia.” Murmurs began to ripple throughout the room. I found myself sitting up straighter, listening to every word this girl had to say. Rin and Jeong-Suk had turned in their seats to watch the broadcast. “I speak to you to bring a stop to how my people have been treated,” Raissa continued. “First, I want to tell you about myself. I was a certified genius at age three. I got a degree in dimension mechanics when I was twelve years old. I managed to hijack every holoscreen in the world for you to hear my message. There is nothing useless about me. There is nothing useless about any of us. My people are frankly sick of being treated as such. We are tired of the segregation, the attacks, and bigotry targetting us. You have no idea how much pain and suffering you have caused.” “Turn this damn thing off!” a Quinque man shouted as he stood from his seat. “Go back to Druz’ya Sem’i!” “So we have banded together,” Raissa continued. “We have decided to give you a taste of your own medicine.” “Did you hear me?!” “Sir!” an employee shouted. “We cannot change the channel!” “Turn off the holoscreen!” “I appear before you today to announce the existence of our new organization: The Refuga Alliance.” “No!” a Tribus woman shouted. “She has every right to speak!” “We renegades have risen up to take back what we have been denied our whole lives: power.” “I won’t stand here while some nullock spats propaganda!” “Together, we are working on ways to combat your powers, combat the prejudice, and evolve into better versions of yourselves.” “Do you hear her?” the man continued. “She’s threatening our very way of life!” “You will no longer be special. You will finally be able to feel what it’s like to be Inutil. Useless. You have relied on your natural powers for too long. Now you will finally be able to taste the consequences.”

I swear I've had to find "taste" a million times lol

Large - from The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

We turned a corner and went to a large door near the end of the hall. Dr. Asghar pressed her hand to the doorframe and the door slid open. We were now inside a room full of computers. Dr. Asghar walked behind one, leaving me in the center and Akash off to the side, and Dr. Moon stood in the corner watching her. “State your name,” Dr. Asghar said, putting what I assumed was hand sanitizer in her palm. “As in first name?” I asked. “Or first and last? Or full name? Or possible nicknames? Or—” “Enough!” Dr. Asghar said through gritted teeth. “Full name.” “Robert Benjamin Stafford.” “Age?” Dr. Asghar asked, not even touching the monitor. “I literally just said that I was thirteen.” “Date of birth?” “C’mon, man, that’s pers—” “Didn’t you literally just say that you just turned thirteen?” Dr. Asghar looked at me through her glasses. “Date. Of. Birth?” I sighed. I considered giving out a fake one, like yesterday, but decided against it. “May 2nd, 2010.”

Change - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

Sammy’s cheeks glowed, her smile bright. “I got in! I got in!” “The Elite Crew?” I asked, referring to her studio’s advanced dancing team. Sammy bounced on her toes. “Yes! Yes, I did!” “Holy shit, that’s awesome!” said Robbie. “Congrats, Sammy.” “Hell yeah, it’s awesome!” said Liam, appearing in the doorway beside her. “I won the arm wrestling match because her phone went off with the news.” “Doesn’t count,” said Sam. “You’re catching up on Diamond Mode, anyway.” “Yeah, but now I’m catching up by one point less.” “It’s only fair I get a point. Now you can beat me in Diamond Mode, I don’t stand a chance in any other mode, so I have to take any win I can get. Besides, we have the rest of our lives for you to obliterate me in Diamond Mode.” “But what if you get better at Diamond Mode?” “Squirt, diamond can’t get harder than it already is.” “What if you find something harder than diamond?” “That’s impossible.” “We’re in an alternate dimension, Liam.” “Touché. But Alium doesn’t have anything harder than diamond, either.” “There’s a whole multiverse out there, though,” said George, taking a bite out of whatever granola bar he was eating. “Besides, an extremely powerful shapeshifter could theoretically shift their skin into a substance harder than diamond. However, that is unheard of. Also, if Sam gets so good at Diamond Mode Arm Wrestling, I suggest you change to weight-lifting and see if she can throw you when you’re dense or otherwise heavy elements.” Liam and Sam looked at each other. “That could work, Squirt. Excellent idea, George.” George lit up, but he hadn’t swallowed the granola, so his cheeks were puffed out. Like a chipmunk or something

[autisticdonni]

Of the Ocean

⨀ platonic yandere rottmnt boys / mutant reader (SWF, nsfw please DNI)

Part 1 out of ???

Part 2

Requests are open

TW: nonconsensual body modification, self-hatred, bigotry towards mutants, stalking, mistaken identity, graphic desc of injury, minors can interact but please beware of potential adult themes!

Your body hurt.

Not just hurt. It was an all-encompassing agony that stretched from your head to your feet. A tingling sensation of your skin rippling and something scaly rising to the surface.

It was that bug. That stupid mosquito thingy that you'd swatted away a thousand times, just thinking that this year they were worse. You had no clue that they could do this!

You were thankful that your apartment building was mostly empty. Not like any of your neighbors would care about you screaming bloody murder so late at night.

You stumbled into the bathroom; hands slick with blood as your bones broke beneath your now green-tinged skin. Your hair fell off in huge clumps, landing in piles on the floor as you smacked the light switch.

The thing that met your gaze in the mirror was not you. It was different. With wide eyes that now held a weird, cyan-colored iris, and no human features to speak of. When you touched your face, you found that your hands had transformed. The bones meshing together and turning five fingers into three.

You touched your face, running your fingers over your new scaly skin, which though was green was mottled with white spots that spread across your nose bridge like freckling stars. Around your eyes, the spots became darker and more honeycomb shaped.

You shivered, seeing the hint of a shell on your back and the plating on your chest that replaced any sort of human anatomy. You recognized what you had turned into, which made your heart sink. Glancing back at your bed, you saw your plushie of a green sea turtle. It was a sickening mirror of your own physique.

By now, the pain had mostly faded. Now, all that was left was a bone deep exhaustion that spread through your limbs. Your legs shook as you sunk to the floor, shivering at the sudden cold that your crappy apartment brought.

You stayed on the bathroom floor for a bit, trying to catch your breath as you shivered from the cold. When feeling came back to your bones, you shuffled out of your bathroom and weakly pulled on the closest pile of clothes you could find.

They did little to soothe your freezing cold skin, but they were better than nothing. Your brain felt like mush as you looked around your apartment.

It looked like someone had been murdered here. Blood and bits of skin and fragments of bone were scattered around. The stench was thick in your nose, and in your exhausted but panicked state, you did what you thought was best.

Packed a backpack of whatever wasn't covered in blood and crept out your bedroom window out onto the fire escape. The freezing night air bit at your sensitive skin, and you shivered as you stumbled down the fire escape.

You knew you couldn't stay here. Mutant cases were on the rise, and with your apartment looking like a blood bath, it was easier to leave and let people assume you died in a freak accident. You could only think of what people would think when a turtle mutant was found in that place.

You'd take the blame. Yeah, no! You're not going to jail anytime soon, thank you!

Climbing down the fire escape, the cold air of New York seemed to seep directly into your bones. You scuttled down as fast as you could, and as soon as you were on the ground, you were running.

It was a little weird, running without shoes and with your three-toed feet, but you were able to sneak through the shadows without too much trouble. It probably helped that your clothes were dark, and that it was the middle of the night.

You were just about to round a corner, when an arm shot out from the shadows and grabbed you, yanking you back.

"Hey-!" You started to shout, but all words died in your mouth as you faced a behemoth of a mutant. He was tall, and broad like a brick house. A red bandana covered the top of his head, and in the faint light of the streetlamps you could see dark eyes glaring down at you.

For a moment, the two of you stood in a stand-off. The larger mutant's eyes softened when he took your form in, then seemed to twitch in surprise when he saw what you were.

"You," his voice was quieter than you thought it would be, "you're like me?" His touch grew soft as he reached up and gently touched the side of your face with a surprisingly warm hand. Just holding you and looking at you like you were the center of the universe to him.

A burst of panic went through you, and you yanked your arm close to you. Thankfully, he wasn't holding too tight, and you were able to easily dart away into the night. His shouting echoed after you, followed by thumping footsteps as the mutant gave chase.

You ran like you've never run before, ducking through broken windows and vaulting over trashcans.

Behind you, more people had given chase. The city seemed to blur as you struggled to remember where you started and where you were trying to go, rounding a corner a pang of Deja vu hit you when a smaller body bowled you over and sent the two of you sprawling into the empty street.

You screeched like a dying cat, wriggling and kicking as best you could as the figure on top of you yelled right back. Though he seemed more excited than scared.

In a burst of movement, half instinctual and half out of your own want to get away, your limbs contracted, and you found yourself...Inside of your shell?

You sat there, huddled in a ball in what must have been your only safe space as voices spoke above you. Too scared to listen, you stared out of the neck hole and saw a pair of three-toed feet step in front of it.

Then, the mutant crouched down, so you were face to face. This one was smaller and must have been the one to tackle you. His face was round, and partially covered in an orange bandana. He grinned at you, and you shrunk further into yourself.

Great. You were surrounded.

[mdhwrites]

how do you feel about the oppressed mage or super powered individual cliche? The cliche where mutants or wizards or vampires etc are discriminated against? I think there are some logical issues with the trope (how do you oppress magneto? Somebody please tell me- he could end the planet if he wanted to) but I want to see if people have issues with the social issues aspect- I have no idea if I'm phrasing this well. Do you think it's a potentially offensive cliche?

So I'm going to give a heads up that this is NOT a fun topic and it IS actually, genuinely problematic as allegory for racial discrimination which is what it is usually used for. Of governments oppressing people just for the status of their birth. Of the jealousy and fear that motivates so much of the irrational mindset of the bigot...

...Except that they're right from go.

Someone asked me at one point what flaw I would give a magical race so as to make bigotry justified towards them to make a work more nuanced and I bopped them on the head for missing the point. After all, bigotry is irrational. It's never right. It's always selfishly motivated and personally motivated, not logically motivated. Claims like "They're taking our jobs!" aren't because of the race of the person, it's because they have been made a scapegoat about economic anxieties the person has and they want someone to blame. This is in contrast to "Eat the rich because they're hoarding wealth and destroying everyone's lives," because that's factually accurate. You're not being bigoted when you are literally stating what is true.

So the big question for anything that tries to do this is the WHY of these characters being oppressed, not the how. You can come up with any how you want, it's the why that matters much more for your allegory. So... Why are these people prejudiced against in the first place?

"If they make one mistake with their abilities, an entire town is leveled and a monster runs free!"

This is literally the argument for mages in Dragon Age but it is the very common argument for this. That these people are essentially massive bombs. You yourself pointed this out in fact. Magneto can destroy the planet. Superman can destroy the planet. Ironman can ravage entire armies while staying untouched. They are blessed in ways that humanity has no way to match. People saying that they are inherently a threat to all of us, that even accidents by them are likely to cause devastating consequences (the collateral damage of any superhero fight for instance, or what happens if someone accidentally knocks Cyclop's glasses off) so they need to in some way be controlled and monitored like we would treat weapons.

The argument for why this is supposed to work is that anyone can go out and buy a gun. Anyone can build their muscles to a point where they can overpower just about anyone else so how do you regulate against something that is genuinely universal? Here's the thing though: That bodybuilder isn't bulletproof. That gunman still needed to go through the legislation and regulation we have to get a gun, which is why you don't see as many shootings in places with more restrictions. They are also just regular people who took drastic action in one direction, perverting an element of society and causing harm. They are not someone who can talk to a child who turns out to be a demon and then go on a rampage because now they too are a demon because Dragon Age is really fucking shitty about its allegory when it comes to mages. And honestly probably the elves too, I haven't dived that deep recently.

It's much closer to why we TECHNICALLY hold people like cops and soldiers to a higher standard than a regular person. We empower these people with the ability to do more harm than ANYONE in regular society on the preconception that they only use the privilege to them responsibly. Cops don't fucking do that almost at all, ACAB, and any privatized military out there is a fucking nightmare on top of the nightmare of being soldiers because now they serve capitalism and the dollar, not people. Fucking Christ, why is it like this!?

And if you want to know why heroes don't kill, that entire fucking paragraph is why they don't kill. The Punisher is not a good person.

Is there a way to do this right? I... Don't really know. I think the mutants, for the shit I've given them here, are actually a decent example since most actually have fairly benign powers. Ones that can be controlled and have to be abused so as to be able to hurt people. Angel isn't hurting anyone with his wings after all, they mostly serve as an inconvenience to him if they're out during civil life. There are real questions as to whether he should be regulated just because someone like Magneto exists. It also is complicated by the worlds they live in. Superheroes are just a fact to the Marvel Universe and yet the mutants get so much more scrutiny and hate despite not being really any different from Bruce Banner except that they were born this way, not made. That is genuinely an effective way to shift that dynamic.

Which is probably the core answer to doing this allegory correctly. Make sure that the world you make adds nuance to trying to oppress these super powered beings. That it is genuinely unfair compared to other people like them. Dragon Age's closest version to this is how the Chantry Templars are blessed with holy power and the like but stand unregulated, even to the point where that became a core conflict as the Templars chose to boost themselves with magic rocks to murder mages better. That still mostly fails, it's much closer to the cops deciding to buy rocket launchers which is not an even similar argument to what is going on with the mages but it's an attempt. Then again, much of Thedas is built on inequality so shrug.

But no matter what, even with these potential ways of making it work, there is a very easy way to figure out if it's not working: If the characters are making an argument that is simply factually correct for hate, you have fucked up and you need to stop. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[francis-writes]

Since there are more sub!Frollo, may I continue on the path and ask for more, but with a male dominant partner please? ❤️‍🔥

A/N: good news, everybody! My phone got ressurected!

"How are you feeling?" Claude looked away and blushed which was kind of an incredible sight, you couldn't remember last time you saw this man flustered - of course, outside the bedroom. "It is certainly... interesting feeling. Not bad, though" You smilled and pulled the leash to bring Claude closer. He gasped at this sudden action but before he said anything, you kissed him. His hands tried to roam your body but you grabbed his wrists and kept him in place. He didn't deserve that. Yet. Finally you broke the kiss. "And now, get on your knees" Claude bit his lip. However it excited him, he still didn't get used to people giving him commands. "What did I say?" You asked with a slight smirk "Do you need an extra encouragement?" Claude decided to not test your patience any longer and kneeled. "Good" you took off your pants "Now lets see what you can do" Frollo's cheeks got ever more red as he took your dick in his hands and started licking it. He told you earlier that it would be his first time so you needed to guide him. You brushed his hair away from his face and smiled as Claude looked up with uncertainity in his eyes. "You're doing good. Now kiss the tip and play with it, using your tongue" He followed your instructions and you gasped with pleasure. "That's it. Now... you can take it in your mouth but watch out to hide your teeth" Claude started sucking your dick, every once in awhile throwing a glance at your face and looking for approval. You were running your fingers through his hair. "You're a quick learner. I knew you have talent" *** You grasped his hair and started thrusting into his mouth. Claude struggled a bit but you established earlier that if he really wants to stop, he will pat your thigh three times. Safeword version for when his mouth are busy. You were fucking his throat for some time already when Claude gave you a signal to stop. You let him go. He coughed and took a deep breath. There were tears in his eyes and his chin was covered in saliva. Judge looked even more alluring in this state than usual. "Are you fine? Do you want to continue?" Claude didn't say a word, still catching breath, but he nodded. He took your dick in his hands and started sucking on it, more enthusiastic than before, his head going back and forth in fast pace. "Maybe... you can take care of the balls. Lick them, caress them with your hands... you can even suck them but not too hard" "Are you sure?" Claude asked. He looked as if he had an inner turmoil between his bigotry and his desires. You pulled the leash up, makind Claude stand up, and you gave him a quick kiss. He tried to continue it but you pulled away and bit his shoulder. Judge moaned and quickly covered his mouth, embarassed of the sound. You grinned and took his hand away from his mouth. "Be honest. Do you enjoy it?" He nodded. You grabbed his chin and moved his face so you could look him into his eyes. "No, I want you to use your words, other way, we finish it right now" Claude hesitated and took a deep breath before replying. "Yes. I find it pleasurable... and I indeed wish to continue" He kneeled and started caressing your balls, following your instructions. You had to admit that despite his cold and harsh appearance, Frollo was actually very delicate and gentle lover. At least when he wanted to. You closed your eyes and let out a quiet moan, stroking Claude's hair. Finally you reached orgasm and cummed. Frollo instinctively tried to pull away his head but you hold it in place to don't make mess. When the last drop left your body, you let him go. Claude looked you in the eyes and swallowed. You smiled and kissed him. "Good boy"

[weggggs]

This is probably going to be one of MANY posts that I make about Dot and Bubble, because holy shit I loved this episode and there are so many themes to unpack here. But I'm gonna start with probably the most important part:

One of the things that I've always appreciated about Russel T Davies is how unafraid he is to portray the harsh reality of bigotry; transphobia, racism, sexism, ableism, etc.

Any time that he does approach these subjects, I always feel like he does a very good job hammering home how disgusting these ideologies of hatred are. When there are characters like Ruby, Shirley, and even back in his original run, Martha, he's never ignored the reality of these prejudices.

Case in point: Dot and Bubble. The ending is INCREDIBLY disturbing, I genuinely felt my stomach forming a pit, and I feel like that's exactly what he was going for. The Doctor just spent the entire episode trying to help the people in Finetime, and then they're about to leave, but the Doctor knows they aren't actually safe. He is trying desperately to save these peoples lives, even after they say some of the most disgustingly racist things possible to his face, but they're too entrenched in their own racism to even consider it. Ncuti's portrayal of the Doctor's helplessness, frustration, anger, cuts so deep. There's no silver lining to the ending, it's just harrowing.

Full disclosure, I am white, so of course I don't really have any authority on whether or not these things are executed tastefully, but from my perspective, from the outside looking in, all of the elements here; writing, acting, directing; does well in making you sickened by what's on display.

[a-queer-seminarian]

cw religious transphobia, Catholic trauma, plus a weird dream involving violence and bombs lol

had another of my dreams about my childhood church last night — probably prompted by the latest shitty Vatican publication condemning "gender theory" :/

...the document doesn't have much new in it, just more of the Roman Catholic Church's usual bullshit with slightly different language. but God i'd take fundamentalism's look-even-slightly-closer-and-it-falls-apart cognitive dissonance any day to the very carefully ordered logic of Catholic bigotry. i always feel physically ill reading through these Vatican documents because the language is so "loving" and "reasonable" — at least for me as someone who was raised into the Catholic logic system; some deep core of me resonates to this specific pitch and aches.

It's like they know exactly what language to use to shatter me — this time it's language about the Infinite Dignity of human beings, which is something i deeply believe in! It's heart-language for me. Tell me queer folk are "intrinsically disordered" or "demonic" and i can mostly scoff it off as outdated unscientific bullshit. But tell me queerness is on par with fucking WAR and POVERTY and XENOPHOBIA in attacking human dignity and that hurts.

...but they also, of course :/, bring in abortion — but also, in a surprising twist, surrogacy??? — as attacking human dignity, and that thankfully snaps me out of my spiral a little bit. Like seriously?? you think all forms of surrogacy violate the *checks notes* child's "right to have a fully human (and not artificially induced) origin..." and the recognition of "every dimension of the dignity of the conjugal union and of human procreation."

It reminds me that the Catholic condemnation of queer sex is like, one level in a house of cards where you take out one piece and it all collapses: the logic they follow to condemn queer sex and extramarital sex requires that they also condemn contraceptives, and priests getting married, and yes, surrogacy and IVF too. To become lax about any one would send the whole logic tower tumbling --

Okay now i'm just ranting incoherently lol. the dream:

my dream was actually kind of interesting? it's the first one where instead of me being scared about my own safety when suddenly finding myself back in my childhood church, i was scared for everyone else —

i was running home trying to escape some kind of violent attack unfolding in a city center (idk the details don't worry about it lol), and realized i had to cut through saint raphael for the fastest route home. so i entered, only to realize the sanctuary was packed full with people in the middle of Mass. (it's the old sanctuary, the one i grew up with, rather than the new bigger one built back in like 2014)

so i'm trying to slink behind the pews so they won't notice me -- and then i suddenly realize someone is up in the choir loft with a bomb. everyone is clueless except for me. i don't want to alert the person with the bomb that i've seen them in case it prompts them to attack, so i start speaking urgently to people in the pews nearest me. some listen, some tell me to shut up, Mass is more important than whatever danger i think is there. very few get up to hurry out the nearest exit. but i keep trying, going pew to pew to warn people, getting closer to the front.

and there is father tim, about to begin eucharistic liturgy at the altar. i'm about to race up to him, to warn him, to beg him to tell everyone to flee, when the person in the choir loft finally speaks. i don't remember what he says, but he hurls the bomb. finally everyone is running for the exits, but it's too late to get everyone out. they'd ignored the violence in their midst far too long.

i don't remember what happens after that except that i get out, get across the street, and turn back to look upon the crumbled mess of my childhood church, one side entirely exploded outward, people soot-streaked and bleeding hobbling from a smoking doorway, shouting.

idk, it just feels symbolic somehow. Catholics who are either very happy with the queerphobic poison the Roman Catholic Church espouses, or who at least shrug and ignore it so as not to rock the boat and cause discomfort / risk their own standing in the church, seem to think they won't be harmed by that poison too. Very "i didn't think the tigers would eat my face" meme-esque. They are happy to let it seep into every crack and crevice in their churches, to swallow it with their Communion wine, to spread it among their children.

But it is poisoning them, all the same. We are just the canaries in the coal mine, dropping first. The queerphobia, the misogyny, the scandals buried under the rug — these warp their ability to experience the Divine, to recognize God's activity in their midst.

The bomb is already activated. Some of them applaud it, almost worship it. Others ignore its quiet, patient tick. And they push out all the queers, all the survivors of church abuse, all the people with pregnancies that will literally kill them, who are desperately trying to help them shut off the damn bomb before it's too late.